She exhaled and pulled at an eyelash. “Why are you asking me all this now?”

Milo said, “Do you have any idea where Nestor was living right before he died, and who he was hanging around with?”

“Not a clue,” said Moss. “Soon after he got out, he bought some nice clothes. I figured he’d sold some dope. A few weeks later he was back living with Mom and the fancy clothes were gone.”

“We’re looking into something Nestor might have done when he was locked up. Maybe he talked about it.”

Silence.

“Ma’am?”

“Oh,” said Anita Moss. “That.”

* * *

She sat back against the seat cushion. Ran her hand over her eyes. “I tried to do something about it.”

“About what, ma’am?”

“You’re talking about the little white kid, right? The kid who killed that baby girl.”

“Troy Turner,” said Milo.

Anita Moss’s shoulders tightened. A fisted right hand drummed the seat. “Now you’re here?”

“What do you mean, ma’am?”

“Right after Nestor told me about it I tried to tell the authorities. But no one listened.”

“Which authorities?”

“First, at Chaderjian. I phoned them and asked to speak to whoever was in charge of solving crimes that take place in the prison. I spoke to some therapist, counselor, I don’t know. He listened to me and said he’d get back but he never did. So I called the cops— Ramparts station because Nestor lived here. They said it was Chaderjian’s jurisdiction.”

Her eyes blazed.

Milo said, “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“I called because Nestor was scary. He was living with Mom, I didn’t want him doing anything crazy.”

Her eyes were wet. “It was hard to tell on him. He was my brother. But I had to think of Mom. No one cared then, and now Nestor’s dead and you’re here. Seems like a waste of time.”

“What exactly did Nestor tell you?”

“That he was a hit man at Chaderjian. That he got paid to hurt or kill people and that he’d killed a bunch of kids in the prison.”

“When did he tell you this?”

“Not long after he got out— a couple of days after. It was my brother Antonio’s birthday and we were at my mom’s, trying to have a family dinner, my brothers and their families, Jim and me. Mom wasn’t feeling well, she really didn’t look good, but she made a beautiful dinner. Nestor showed up late, with expensive tequila and a dozen Cuban cigars. He insisted all the guys go outside and smoke. Jim doesn’t touch tobacco so he refused but my brothers went out on the balcony. Soon after my oldest brother Willy came in and said Nestor was running his mouth about all kinds of crazy things, violent things, and he didn’t want Mom to hear, I should quiet Nestor down.”

She frowned.