Los Angeles Noir - Denise Hamilton [116]
“I don’t shine no shoes,” said the wino, a french fry dangling from his mouth. “I got my pride.”
“They’re for you. Keep them.”
The wino didn’t react at first, then warily took the boots. He grinned, started to put them on. Stopped. Shook one of them. It made a sound. He turned the boot upside down and blood splashed onto the sand. The wino jumped back, stared at Yancy, backing off now.
Yancy peeled off his socks. One white. One red. Tossed them into the trash can and walked toward the water. The sand warm between his toes. Unsteady now. The sight of blood. It never bothered him … unless it was his own.
The house on Pomona was supposed to be fat with coke and cash, but Yancy knew as soon as they got inside that it was a mistake. Three guys sitting on the couch drinking cans of Diet Pepsi and watching tennis on TV. Never met a dope dealer that didn’t crave sugar … and tennis? Give me a fucking break.
Where is it, motherfucker? PJ had shouted, waving his gun. Turn it over, motherfucker, or I’ll blow your fucking brains out!
Which was way too Tarantino, even if it was the right house. Yancy had gone over everything with the kid before-hand. Gone over it ten or twenty times. Yancy did the talking. We bust down the door, flash the fake badges, and always speak in a soft, polite manner. Violence, then calm. Violence to get their attention, calm so they did what you wanted them to. After they gave up the dope and money, then it was back to the violence. A fast finish and out the door. Last thing Yancy wanted was some doper with a grudge looking for him. Unacceptable. No witnesses was the order of business, except when you broke into the wrong house. Times like today, when it happened, and it did happen, you just apologized, put away the badges, said send a bill to the city, and hauled ass. No muss, no fuss, no bother. Not today though.
Yancy lurched across the sand, the beach dotted with clumps of brown oil from the offshore rigs. He splashed into the ocean, walked in until it reached mid-calf, then headed north, paralleling the shore, straight for the Queen Mary. Cool water, real tingly, a nice little wake-up. He bent down to roll his pants up, lost his footing, and flopped down. Sat there soaking his ass in the ocean. Yancy saw a family of Mexicans eating dinner on a blanket, radio blasting, niños playing in the sand. Mamacita pointed at Yancy—look at that silly gringo!—laughing, and Yancy waved back. He stood up, put his hands on his knees until his head cleared. Walked on. Soldiered on down the beach. A small plane cruised overhead, trailing a SECOND ST. SPORTS BAR $2 TEQUILA SHOTS banner. Yancy kept his eyes on the big boat. Man needed a focus. Something to aim for. Queen Mary was the biggest thing in the area.
Getting hard to breathe. Little gurgly sounds every time he took a breath. Tempted to take off his bullet-proof vest, but no telling what that would do. The cinched vest probably the only thing holding him together. Shallow breaths helped. First time in his life he had ever been winded. Yancy lettered in football, baseball, and track in high school. Couple of his records still unbroken at Long Beach Poly. Go Rabbits! Yancy laughed and it hurt worse than ever. He got a scholarship to Cal State, Long Beach, but only lasted a semester. Long enough for Mason to call him college boy. Like Yancy was supposed to be ashamed for not moving his lips when he read a newspaper.
Splash splash splash in the shallows. He left a light chum of blood trail in the water. A geezer in plaid Bermuda shorts approached, a sunburned beachcomber working his way along the tideline with a metal detector, moving it back and forth, back and forth. Yancy’s uncle did the same thing every weekend after the crowds were gone. All along the beach, head down, earphones cupped in place, oblivious to everything but the beep-beep that signaled the mother lode. Or a buried beer can. Uncle Dave … the treasure hunter. Man had gone to every one of Yancy’s football games, cheered himself hoarse, then told him afterwards every mistake he made,