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"Whyn't you sit, drink some wine, have a little fun."
"I wish I could," I said.
"But you're uptight." she said.
"That's it," I said. "Thanks for the wine."
She was looking into her near-empty wine glass now, with her feet flat on the floor and her shoulders hunched as if she were cold, which was not possible in the stifling room.
"Get lost," she said.
Which I did.
Chapter 30
VINCENT DEL Rio had an estate in Bel Air where he was master of all he surveyed, and a good deal more than that. The place was about the size of Worcester, Massachusetts, and a lot better looking in its flowery green Southern-California way.
Even though I had called first, I had to do a lot of explaining to a sequence of scary-looking men of Mexican lineage as I worked my way past the gate, and past the front door, and into the courtyard of his vast white-stucco-and-red-tile home, into the presence of Vincent del Rio.
"Senor Spenser," he said.
Del Rio was wearing a white suit today with a crimson silk shirt open at the neck.
I said, "Jefe."
Del Rio smiled and sipped from a glass of iced tea. Bobby Horse was leaning against the courtyard wall with his thick arms folded. He nodded at me. I nodded back. Chollo was there, seated with del Rio under an olive tree, at a round, red wood table with a brick-colored tile top. They were playing chess. Chollo was as he had been, still medium height and slender, with his long hair in a ponytail. Even seated, he managed to look languid, which he wasn't. On the table were a pitcher of iced tea and a dish of sliced lemons, several glasses, and the chessboard.
"Sit down," del Rio said.
I sat between him and Chollo.
Chollo said, "Amigo."
I said, "Chollo."
"You want some iced tea?" del Rio said.
"Gracias."
"Cut the crap," del Rio said. "What do you want?"
He had no trace of an accent.
"Two sugars, some lemon."
Chollo pushed the pitcher over toward me.
"Help yourself," del Rio said.
I fixed myself up some iced tea and took a sip.
"Mango," I said. "Very good."
Nobody said anything. Del Rio folded his hands across his stomach and leaned back in his chair. He looked sort of stagy, like an Anglo playing a Mexican, with a Pancho Villa moustache and his dark hair slicked back.
"Family okay?" I said.
"Yes, my daughter is married now and lives in La Jolla."
"You approve?" I said.
"If I did not, it would not have happened."
"Husband in your business?" I said.
"No. He is a marine biologist."
"Does he know your line of work?" I said.
"He did not marry me," del Rio said. "You have business with me?"
A small fountain made a soft falling-water sound in one corner.
"I need two favors."
"Perhaps you're confused," del Rio said. "This is not Travelers Aid."
"One, I'm interested in a guy named Ta
Del Rio looked up from his chessboard.
"Really?" he said. "Why?"
"A guy who works for him threatened to beat me up the other night on Olympic Boulevard."
"And?"
"And he didn't," I said. "But I'd sort of like to know why."
"I can see why you would," del Rio said. "But why do I care what you'd like?"
"Because I'm a fine person?"
"Do you know the name of the man who threatened to beat you up?"
"Jerome Jefferson," I said. "Guy with him called Tino."
Del Rio shook his head. He looked at Chollo. Chollo shrugged.
We don't know them," del Rio said.
"Small-time guys," I said. "Don't waste the name players on a stiff from Boston."
Del Rio nodded.
"It is good that you understand your position here," he said.
"How about Ta
"Yes."
"Tell me about him."
"First," del Rio said, "you tell me what you might be doing that would come to Morris Ta
"I'm working on a murder case," I said.
"Here?"
"Some people involved used to live here," I said. "But the murder was out in the desert, place called Potshot."
Del Rio moved one of the chess pieces.
"Is there a co
"I don't know."
"Of course you don't," del Rio said.
Chollo moved a chess piece. Del Rio studied the move. I don't play chess. I had no idea what they were doing.
"Morris is an important figure in this part of the country."
"As important as you?" I said.
Del Rio consulted the chess book and studied the board and moved another piece.
"Not to me," he said.
"Me either," I said. "What's Ta
Del Rio smiled. "He's a venture capitalist," del Rio said. "Like me."
"What's he invest in?"
"Drugs, whores, numbers… usual thing."
"Competition?" I said.
"Not really," del Rio said. "He operates east of Chino."
"The inland empire?"
Del Rio nodded, studying the chessboard. "Fresno," he said. "Bakersfield, San Berdoo, Riverside."
"Where would I find him?"
Del Rio moved a chess piece, kept his hand on it for a moment, and moved it back. He continued to stare at the board. Chollo was motionless.
"Palm Springs," del Rio said.
"Maybe I should go out and talk with him."
Del Rio smiled and moved a chess piece, sat back, and looked at the move with satisfaction.
"It would save you the drive if you were to shoot yourself here."
"Morris is not friendly."
"No."
"Is he persistent?"
"Very."
"So he'll admonish me again," I said.
Del Rio looked at Chollo.
"Admonish," he said.
"Even for a gringo he talks fu
"Yes," del Rio said. "He will admonish you again."
"So maybe I'll need backup," I said.
Del Rio looked again at Chollo. Chollo was studying the board.
Without looking away he said, "Backup."
"That would be the second favor," del Rio said.
"Si."
"You wish to borrow Chollo?"
"Like last time," I said. "And Bobby Horse, too. If you would."
Del Rio leaned back in his chair and stared at me.
"They are not mine to lend," he said.
"Then, I'd like your permission to make them a proposal."
Again the silence and the stare. Chollo looked amused. Against the wall Bobby Horse showed nothing. His strong-featured Indian face was entirely blank.
Finally del Rio said, "That is respectful."
"I'm a respectful guy," I said.
"In this instance," del Rio said.
A small bird with a black back made small syncopated noise in the olive tree.
Del Rio looked at Chollo and then at Bobby Horse.
"Do you wish to listen to his proposal?" he said.
"Si," Chollo said.
Bobby Horse shrugged and nodded.
"I need some help with this guy Ta