to start taking a few precautions.”
“From what I hear, the cops think it was one of those gang things,” Charlie told her. “Those aren’t usually dangerous for innocent bystanders—particularly when the guy who’s doing the killing uses a knife. It’s when they start shooting at each other that you have to take cover. City kids are rotten shots. What’s for dinner tonight, babe? I skipped lunch today, and I’m starving.”
The ladies fixed pork chops that evening, and they were way out in front of anything you’d get in any local restaurant. James arrived a little late for supper, and the girls scolded him at some length. I mentally confirmed “don’t be late for supper” under my list of house rules.
“Are you guys up for a jaunt over to the Green Lantern Tavern this evening?” Charlie asked James and me.
“Here we go again.” Erika sighed, rolling her eyes upward.
“We’re not going to get all bent out of shape, toots,” Charlie promised. “I want to have a talk with my older brother about that guy who got killed on campus last night. My brother’s a cop, and he’ll know a lot more details than we got from the news reports. He hits the Green Lantern just about every night on his way home from work. I can probably wheedle the story out of him. Then we’ll know whether it’s something we need to worry about.”
James shrugged. “I don’t really have anything better to do,” he replied. “I’ll come along. I can count the number of beers you drink and rat you off to Trish when we get home.”
“You wouldn’t!” Charlie said.
“Only kidding, Charlie. Relax. I never fink on a buddy.”
“Male bonding in action,” Sylvia said sardonically.
“And Budweiser’s the glue in most cases,” Erika added. “Take ten guys and a keg of beer, mix well, and they’re stuck together for life.”
“It’s one of those guy things, Erika,” I told her. “It crops up during hunting season—or just before the Super Bowl. I don’t watch football on TV, so I’m sort of an outcast. Well, gentlemen, shall we tiptoe off to the Green Lantern and abuse our livers?”
Sgt. Robert West was a plainclothes detective with the Seattle Police Department, and he and his younger brother seemed to be fairly close, despite a pretty good number of differences between them. Charlie had bounced from job to job for a number of years, but Bob had taken aim at the Seattle Police Department when he’d been about fourteen, and he’d never even considered an alternate profession. He was a solid citizen with a wife, two kids, and a mortgage. He lived in the Wallingford district, and he customarily stopped by the Green Lantern after work for two beers—three on Friday, I learned later—then went on home. Charlie’d told James and me that you could set your watch by his brother. They looked quite a bit alike, but I doubt that Charlie even knew how to tie a necktie, while Bob wore one to work every day.
After Charlie had introduced James and me to his brother, he got down to cases. “I don’t want you to bend any rules, big brother,” he said, “but we’d like to know if we ought to start wearing bulletproof vests to class. If the gangs are moving onto the campus, it could turn into a war zone. What’s the scoop on the guy who got knifed last night?”
Bob looked at James and me. “This won’t go any further, right?” he asked us in a low voice.
“It stops right here,” James assured him.
“All right, then. The victim was a fairly high-ranking member of a Chicano gang, and somebody obviously wanted to pass a message on to his pals. What happened down by the lakeshore last night wasn’t your average, run-of-the-mill stab in the back. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to make it
very
messy.”
“Who was the dead guy?” Charlie asked.
“His name was Julio Muñoz, and his gang’s recently moved out this way to try to attract customers from the student body for various feel-good products. U.W.
“From what I hear, the cops think it was one of those gang things,” Charlie told her. “Those aren’t usually dangerous for innocent bystanders—particularly when the guy who’s doing the killing uses a knife. It’s when they start shooting at each other that you have to take cover. City kids are rotten shots. What’s for dinner tonight, babe? I skipped lunch today, and I’m starving.”
The ladies fixed pork chops that evening, and they were way out in front of anything you’d get in any local restaurant. James arrived a little late for supper, and the girls scolded him at some length. I mentally confirmed “don’t be late for supper” under my list of house rules.
“Are you guys up for a jaunt over to the Green Lantern Tavern this evening?” Charlie asked James and me.
“Here we go again.” Erika sighed, rolling her eyes upward.
“We’re not going to get all bent out of shape, toots,” Charlie promised. “I want to have a talk with my older brother about that guy who got killed on campus last night. My brother’s a cop, and he’ll know a lot more details than we got from the news reports. He hits the Green Lantern just about every night on his way home from work. I can probably wheedle the story out of him. Then we’ll know whether it’s something we need to worry about.”
James shrugged. “I don’t really have anything better to do,” he replied. “I’ll come along. I can count the number of beers you drink and rat you off to Trish when we get home.”
“You wouldn’t!” Charlie said.
“Only kidding, Charlie. Relax. I never fink on a buddy.”
“Male bonding in action,” Sylvia said sardonically.
“And Budweiser’s the glue in most cases,” Erika added. “Take ten guys and a keg of beer, mix well, and they’re stuck together for life.”
“It’s one of those guy things, Erika,” I told her. “It crops up during hunting season—or just before the Super Bowl. I don’t watch football on TV, so I’m sort of an outcast. Well, gentlemen, shall we tiptoe off to the Green Lantern and abuse our livers?”
Sgt. Robert West was a plainclothes detective with the Seattle Police Department, and he and his younger brother seemed to be fairly close, despite a pretty good number of differences between them. Charlie had bounced from job to job for a number of years, but Bob had taken aim at the Seattle Police Department when he’d been about fourteen, and he’d never even considered an alternate profession. He was a solid citizen with a wife, two kids, and a mortgage. He lived in the Wallingford district, and he customarily stopped by the Green Lantern after work for two beers—three on Friday, I learned later—then went on home. Charlie’d told James and me that you could set your watch by his brother. They looked quite a bit alike, but I doubt that Charlie even knew how to tie a necktie, while Bob wore one to work every day.
After Charlie had introduced James and me to his brother, he got down to cases. “I don’t want you to bend any rules, big brother,” he said, “but we’d like to know if we ought to start wearing bulletproof vests to class. If the gangs are moving onto the campus, it could turn into a war zone. What’s the scoop on the guy who got knifed last night?”
Bob looked at James and me. “This won’t go any further, right?” he asked us in a low voice.
“It stops right here,” James assured him.
“All right, then. The victim was a fairly high-ranking member of a Chicano gang, and somebody obviously wanted to pass a message on to his pals. What happened down by the lakeshore last night wasn’t your average, run-of-the-mill stab in the back. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to make it
very
messy.”
“Who was the dead guy?” Charlie asked.
“His name was Julio Muñoz, and his gang’s recently moved out this way to try to attract customers from the student body for various feel-good products. U.W.
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