those people who got killed on the other side of town?”
Del said, “Maybe.”
Castells said, “I gotta change my name. People keep thinking I’m a Mexicano.”
Lucas asked, “What kind of name is Castells?”
“Catalan,” Castells said. The three cops looked at one another, and Andrews shrugged, and Castells said, “Catalonia is a country currently occupied by Spain.”
“You some kind of radical?” Del asked.
Castells laughed and said, “No. I’m an antiquities dealer. You know—statues and stuff.”
“Who talks to dope dealers,” Andrews said.
“I talk to everybody,” Castells said. “I’m a friendly guy.”
“You never know who might need a statue,” Del offered.
“That’s right,” Castells said, smiling at Del. “You just put your finger on the core of the business, Officer Capslock.”
Del leaned back: “Where do you know me from?”
“You were pointed out to me once,” Castells said. “I was told that I shouldn’t be misled by the fact that you were wearing a trucker’s hat backwards.”
“Mmm,” Del said. Castells had pushed him off-balance. He asked, pushing back, “You haven’t seen a big bronze statue, have you? Some women dancing on some fish?”
“The
Naiads
,” Castells said. “No, I haven’t, and neither has anybody else in the statue business. There wouldn’t be any way to sell it. Your statue is now a bunch of little bronze pieces, if it’s not already been turned into ingots.”
“I hate it when people say things like that,” Del said.
Lucas jumped in: “So what about these bad Mexicans?”
“The thing about cops is, cops blab,” Castells said to Lucas. “They bullshit with everybody. If somebody’s talking about a particular group of bad Mexicans, well … you could get your head cut off on television.”
“Not us,” Lucas said. “We’ve all worked in intelligence. We keep our mouths shut.”
Castells made an open-hand gesture, as if to say, “Whatever,” and asked, “Which one of you is the boss?”
“We don’t actually have bosses,” Lucas said, but Andrews pointed a finger at Lucas and said, “He is.”
C ASTELLS LOOKED at Lucas and said, “I don’t know very much, but I was talking to a couple of Mexicanos over in West St. Pauland one of them said to the other that it’d be best to stay away from the Wee Blue Inn, because there were some heavy hitters going through, supposedly from Dallas, but actually, he said, from Mexico. That is the sum total of what I know. I passed it on to another guy I know, because he is also a Mexicano. I didn’t know he was a drug dealer.”
“Why’d you think about the killings on the other side of town?” Andrews asked.
“’Cause I watched the TV news last night. Sounded like Mexican dopers to me.”
They talked for a couple more minutes, and when asked where he’d come from, Castells said, “Washington, D.C.”
“You were a congressman, or something?” Del asked.
Castells said, “Something like that.”
“You speak Spanish?” Del asked.
“Yes.”
Lucas asked, “French?”
“Mm-hmm. You looking for a language teacher?”
“No. German?” Lucas asked.
“Maybe a little. I travel on business.”
“Antiquities.”
“Yes. And high-end furniture.”
He did not, he said, have any more relevant information, but he’d keep his ear to the ground, his nose to the grindstone, and his feet on the fence. If he heard anything more, he’d call Lucas. Lucas gave him a card and stood up. “Stay in touch. We could be a valuable contact for a hardworking antique dealer.”
“Antiquities, not antiques. Antiques were made in Queen Victoria’s time. Antiquities were made by the Greeks and Romansand Egyptians. Entirely different market,” Castells said, as he put the card in his pocket. He was, Lucas thought, exactly the kind of guy who would keep it.
Outside, Lucas said to Andrews, “Interesting guy.”
Del said, “Yeah. So are we going down to the Wee Blue
Del said, “Maybe.”
Castells said, “I gotta change my name. People keep thinking I’m a Mexicano.”
Lucas asked, “What kind of name is Castells?”
“Catalan,” Castells said. The three cops looked at one another, and Andrews shrugged, and Castells said, “Catalonia is a country currently occupied by Spain.”
“You some kind of radical?” Del asked.
Castells laughed and said, “No. I’m an antiquities dealer. You know—statues and stuff.”
“Who talks to dope dealers,” Andrews said.
“I talk to everybody,” Castells said. “I’m a friendly guy.”
“You never know who might need a statue,” Del offered.
“That’s right,” Castells said, smiling at Del. “You just put your finger on the core of the business, Officer Capslock.”
Del leaned back: “Where do you know me from?”
“You were pointed out to me once,” Castells said. “I was told that I shouldn’t be misled by the fact that you were wearing a trucker’s hat backwards.”
“Mmm,” Del said. Castells had pushed him off-balance. He asked, pushing back, “You haven’t seen a big bronze statue, have you? Some women dancing on some fish?”
“The
Naiads
,” Castells said. “No, I haven’t, and neither has anybody else in the statue business. There wouldn’t be any way to sell it. Your statue is now a bunch of little bronze pieces, if it’s not already been turned into ingots.”
“I hate it when people say things like that,” Del said.
Lucas jumped in: “So what about these bad Mexicans?”
“The thing about cops is, cops blab,” Castells said to Lucas. “They bullshit with everybody. If somebody’s talking about a particular group of bad Mexicans, well … you could get your head cut off on television.”
“Not us,” Lucas said. “We’ve all worked in intelligence. We keep our mouths shut.”
Castells made an open-hand gesture, as if to say, “Whatever,” and asked, “Which one of you is the boss?”
“We don’t actually have bosses,” Lucas said, but Andrews pointed a finger at Lucas and said, “He is.”
C ASTELLS LOOKED at Lucas and said, “I don’t know very much, but I was talking to a couple of Mexicanos over in West St. Pauland one of them said to the other that it’d be best to stay away from the Wee Blue Inn, because there were some heavy hitters going through, supposedly from Dallas, but actually, he said, from Mexico. That is the sum total of what I know. I passed it on to another guy I know, because he is also a Mexicano. I didn’t know he was a drug dealer.”
“Why’d you think about the killings on the other side of town?” Andrews asked.
“’Cause I watched the TV news last night. Sounded like Mexican dopers to me.”
They talked for a couple more minutes, and when asked where he’d come from, Castells said, “Washington, D.C.”
“You were a congressman, or something?” Del asked.
Castells said, “Something like that.”
“You speak Spanish?” Del asked.
“Yes.”
Lucas asked, “French?”
“Mm-hmm. You looking for a language teacher?”
“No. German?” Lucas asked.
“Maybe a little. I travel on business.”
“Antiquities.”
“Yes. And high-end furniture.”
He did not, he said, have any more relevant information, but he’d keep his ear to the ground, his nose to the grindstone, and his feet on the fence. If he heard anything more, he’d call Lucas. Lucas gave him a card and stood up. “Stay in touch. We could be a valuable contact for a hardworking antique dealer.”
“Antiquities, not antiques. Antiques were made in Queen Victoria’s time. Antiquities were made by the Greeks and Romansand Egyptians. Entirely different market,” Castells said, as he put the card in his pocket. He was, Lucas thought, exactly the kind of guy who would keep it.
Outside, Lucas said to Andrews, “Interesting guy.”
Del said, “Yeah. So are we going down to the Wee Blue
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