“A saint,” Oscar confirmed.
“Well,” I said. “I was just wondering about Ashton, that’s all.”
“Whatchoo care about some rich girl, anyway?” he asked.
“I don’t know. She seems like a good person. It’s weird a girl like that would just disappear into thin air.”
“That is weird,” Beto agreed. “But not as weird as what happened to Hector, and it don’t seem like anyone’s interested in finding out about that too much. I went down to the police station myself and talked to this fool detective who had so much gel in his hair he looked like he mopped up an oil leak with it, and he started acting like I had something to do with selling them drugs to Hector. They don’t care what really happened to him.”
I could definitely sympathize with him about that. “I wish I could’ve done more about Hector,” I said. “But I told that same stupid detective everything I know, which isn’t anything, really.”
“Cops,” Oscar said, practically spitting the word. “They don’t care about nobody around here.”
“That’s okay, Dylan,” Beto told me. “You did your best.”
I wanted to ask him how he knew about the North Side Monarchs, but I didn’t know how to bring it up without breaking my promise to Nash to keep mum on the Gangland deal. Besides, I was ready to get out of there before I said something that might spark another punch in the head from Oscar.
“Yeah, I did my best,” I agreed, feeling a twinge of guilt. “Well, I guess I’d better take off. I have more food to deliver.”
“Good to see you, man.” Beto shook my hand again, but I couldn’t walk away without at least some hope of getting more info from him later.
“Um, you know what?” I said, standing at a safe distance from Oscar. “Why don’t I give you my phone number just in case you happen to see any rich blond girls hanging around the neighborhood?”
He grinned. “Sure, that’s a good idea. Just tell it to me. I’ll remember it.”
I rattled off the number, and he nodded. “See you later, amigo.”
Back in the car, I told Audrey and Trix what’d happened.
From where they were parked, they couldn’t see how I almost got massacred.
“Wow,” Trix said. “What are you, like a bizarre trouble magnet or something? You’re always running into dead guys or missing girls’ running shoes or dead guys’ cousins.”
“It is an odd coincidence,” Audrey added.
“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe it’s not such a coincidence.”
“What do you mean?” Audrey asked.
I looked out the window at the run-down houses as we drove past. “I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure Ashton and Hector are tied together. I’m thinking he might’ve even been the mysterious boyfriend.”
“And someone didn’t like it,” Trix added, a gleam in her eye.
“Oh God,” Audrey said. “Now he has you playing Andromeda Man too.”
CHAPTER 24
I felt creepy calling Linda at FOKC to tell her we had to quit, but what could I do? We couldn’t keep delivering meals three times a week just so they wouldn’t suspect we were investigating the Ashton Browning deal. Linda sounded bummed but guaranteed we could always come back if we could find the time. That’d be great, I told her, but I doubted it would happen. Here I was—a big fat quitter all over again.
For my next newspaper article, I wrote about Ashton’s FOKC connection and what the clientele had to say about her. So, yes, I’ll admit it was a bit of a love letter again. How could it not be? The more I learned about her, the greater she sounded. Smart, funny, independent, socially conscious. The perfect match for an investigative reporter.
However, the part about Beto and Oscar didn’t end up in the article. For one thing, admitting I got punched in the back of the head wasn’t likely to charge up my mojo level, but more than that, I didn’t want to go into the Hector Maldonado connection until I knew if there really was one.
I had a couple of theories. First, if Hector actually was Ashton Browning’s boyfriend, that would fit with what the Ockles said. Plus, Hector was a pretty good-looking guy, and rich girls have been known to fool around with poor bad boys for the thrill of it. If her dad found out, it’d probably be just like Trix suggested—he wouldn’t like it one bit. Or maybe Rowan Adams was the one who didn’t like it. That angle felt better. As certain as I’d once been that Mr. Browning was guilty, I now preferred seeing Rowan go down. Besides, he was the godfather of the North Side Monarchs, and undoubtedly there was some connection there.
One problem with that theory—Hector wasn’t really poor and he definitely wasn’t a bad boy. So in my second theory, I imagined Ashton falling for Beto. Sure, he was friendly to me, but he had a dangerous air about him. Definite bad-boy material. Was he the type to get violent with the girls? I didn’t want to think so, but if he was, then maybe he went too far one night, and she ended up dead. How Hector and the Monarchs figured into that scenario, I didn’t know, but I decided digging into Hector’s life a little deeper might bring some answers.
I turned in my article to Ms. Jansen and sent a copy to Nash like I promised. Then, during lunch, I looked up Diron Moore, one of Hector’s small circle of buddies. Diron was a lot like Hector actually—a quiet guy who sat in the back of class and turned in his homework on time. His clothes always looked brand new.