Page 77 of Being Lost

She’d make a fucking amazing one, I’m sure of that. And just why is what I tell them. “If that happens, she’d do great. She’s already brought up two moody teenagers, I’m sure she’ll be able to handle you assholes.” Now Salem’s given voice to it, I decide I like the sound of the handle ‘ol’ lady’ being applied to Patsy. But to make that happen… This time I do bang the gavel. “Token, what you got?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Lost

“Got locations from the coordinates,” Token begins. “One’s in Tijuana, and the other is this side of the border.”

“Where?” Salem butts in.

“A fuckin’ Mexican restaurant.”

“I could eat Mexican,” Bones suggests. “Should we go check it out?”

“Whoa.” I hold up my hands. “No one’s just running off. We need to discuss this. First, that info is twenty-plus years old, and second, if the drugs are delivered to those premises, it’s unlikely they’ll be in plain sight. Can’t search while they’re open for business, and they’re unlikely to offer to show us around.”

“Still, it might be worth checking out,” Dart suggests. “If it’s a front, we might be able to gain some info without giving away our suspicions.”

“According to Trip Advisor, it’s good, but not fantastic. Top marks for service and value for money, as for the food itself the reviews are a bit mixed, but nothing more or less than most other restaurants,” Token enlightens us. “Some folks love it, some hate it.”

“So they’re doing what they can to appear legit,” I surmise. “How long has it been in business?”

“Twenty years.”

“Exactly? Or thereabouts?”

“Exactly,” Token confirms.

Hmm. Two years later than our information was dated. Still, it had been just plans. Maybe Alder took time to get his shit together.

“Has it always been in the same hands?” Dart poses his reasonable question. I tilt my head.

“Family business,” Token replies. “Looks like a son runs it now. Maybe the father retired.”

“Any police interest?” Scribe comes up with a good question. We all look to Token expecting him to already have the answer. While I was enjoying myself with Patsy, he’ll have been up all night digging deeper and deeper. I notice his eyes look red and tired.

“No. The only unusual thing is zero reports. Even the best run restaurants have problems in that length of time. Someone leaving without paying, or a brawl in the parking lot. There’s zilch from this place though.”

“They’d handle that shit themselves if they were into something shady,” Snips observes, scratching an itch on his nose.

Brakes looks at him sideways. “Or they’re lucky and haven’t had trouble.”

“In twenty years it would seem unlikely,” I suggest. “What’s the locale like?” I raise my eyebrow at Token.

“Not the best area, a Hispanic enclave for the most part. The businesses around are nine-to-five, nowhere else that would be open into the night. There is an auto-shop just behind it. Let’s just say, from the reviews, it wouldn’t give our shop a run for its money.”

Interesting. A place with an excuse to have activity after hours, and no one around to question it.

“I still say we need to go check it out,” Bones insists, sniffing loudly.

I don’t disagree, but I’m doubtful whether we’d find anything useful. If they’ve been running a drug trade through the restaurant for two decades, they’ll be polished as fuck. I wait for the treasurer to blow his nose, then address him. “And I still ask what would that give us? Okay, so you’d get fed, maybe visit the heads. But they’re not going to have shit out in the open, and I doubt there’d be a trapdoor in plain sight.”

Bones bristles a little at my dismissal.

“You just want a free meal,” Pennywise observes.

“Bones would do anything for a good chili.” Brakes and Pennywise exchange fist bumps.

Snips snorts.

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