I called Hondo again. He said, “Did you lose it?”
“Yes, and I have breakfast. But I also have another tail and this one I’m bringing to the office, so show ‘em what you’ve got when I get there.”
I accelerated for a bit, and the Firebird stayed with me. I then slowed down and it backed away, but never left, staying twenty to thirty yards behind me. “All right,” I said, “My friend’s going to be so happy to see you. Stay with me, now.”
I stayed twenty miles an hour above the speed limit and tried to get them caught at red lights, but the Firebird wheelman drove like a pro and made every one. I called Hondo one last time, “We’re coming to you in one minute.”
“I’m ready.”
I parked the Mercedes to the side of the office door and hopped out as soon as I stopped. I didn’t see Hondo, but that didn’t worry me. Pulling my pistol, I moved to the front of the car for protection.
The Firebird slowed and stopped twenty yards from the Mercedes. It idled there a few moments, then the passenger door opened and a man in a trench coat and fedora stepped out of the car. He looked like a character from a nineteen-fifty detective movie. The fedora’s brim shaded his face from the parking lot security lights. He said, “We want the spic.”
Hondo stepped around the corner and leveled a twelve gauge Remington pump at the man, racking a round into it for effect. He said, “You can leave or I can pull the trigger. Your choice.”
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with. You two don’t want to cross us.”
Hondo pulled the trigger.
Buckshot blew the rear fender and all the rubber on the rear tire completely off the car. The debris skittered and flopped across the parking lot pavement for twenty feet before slowing to a stop.
Hondo racked another round into the shotgun. The man held up his hands toward us, “You will regret this.”
I snapped photos of the Firebird’s license plate, then said to the man, “Smile.” And took a flash photo of him, but he ducked his head.
He slipped into the passenger’s side as the driver limped the Firebird out of the parking area. The bare rim made a grinding sound as they left.
I turned to Hondo and held up a sack, “I brought donuts.”
Hondo sighed.
Chapter 4
The next morning, Archie asked if we heard anything last night. I said, “Somebody was horsing around in the parking lot and blew out a tire.”
Hondo said, “I cleaned up the mess, some rubber and things.”
Archie said, “Thanks. I hate when kids do that.” I nodded and handed him a donut. He took it and left. When he was out of sight, Juan came out of the storeroom and I gave him a donut.
He took a small bite, chewed, and said, “You have Tabasco, or salsa?”
“What for?”
He made a motion over the pastry like pouring ketchup, “Needs a leetle sometheen.”
I said, “Sorry.” He shrugged, then sat in a chair and ate the rest.
Hondo said, “Those plates came back to two cars in Reseda, a Volvo and a Nissan Leaf.”
“So, stolen plates and no leads.”
“Every bad guy out there seems to know who we are, but we can’t find a single clue as to who is behind Bodhi’s kidnapping.”
I said to Hondo, “We’ll just keep nosing around. Something will turn up.”
“Probably will.”
I said, “You want to take me to Amber’s apartment so I can get my pickup? She’s not answering her phone.”