As the men crowded around Mendoza, Pike studied their faces. Most sported elaborate gang tats and shaved heads, which had replaced slicked-back hair as the homeboy style of choice. Pike knew that not all of these men would be in the gang. Most were, but a couple would likely be wannabes, and a couple more were probably just friends. Three of the men showed the grease and soil of work, but most of them had just been hanging around. Pike saw the man who had aimed his gun hand from the Monte Carlo’s back seat, but Gomer wasn’t among them. The man hugged Mendoza and lifted him from the ground. When other men made a joke of grabbing Mendoza’s cast, the back-seat man playfully pushed them away. Protecting his friend. Any of these people could have vandalized Wilson’s takeout shop, but Pike had no way to know, though he thought he knew someone who could help deal with the problem.

Pike scrolled the directory in his cell phone until he found the number, then dialed. A cheery young woman answered.

“Angel Eyes. May I help you?”

“Artie there?”

“Yes, he is. May I ask who’s calling?”

“Tell him Joe Pike is coming by.”

Pike drove to a small stucco house in a residential neighborhood east of Abbot Kinney Boulevard. Known by the people who lived there as Ghost Town, the streets were lined by modest homes originally built for African-American laborers during the thirties. Ghost Town had seen a slow gentrification in some of its neighborhoods, but not all, leaving a sad reminder of days gone past and dreams unrealized. But men like Father Arturo Alvarez were trying to change that.

Father Art was not a priest, though the women and kids in his care called him Father and blessed him with the love and respect of a man of God. Artie Alvarez was a murderer. He murdered his first and only victim when he was eleven years old—a thirteen-year-old Shoreline Crip named Lucious T. Jefferson, whose only mistake was pedaling a blue Schwinn bike past Artie’s house. Artie was brutally honest when he told the story of how and why he killed the boy, which he told often to elementary-school children, civic leaders, and business groups throughout the Southland. He spoke to kids because he hoped to change their lives for the better. He spoke to civic leaders and business groups to raise money to fund his programs.