“Why you gotta waste my time posturing? I were you, I’d drop the act and get down to answering my questions before you find yourself the recipient of O olho de Deus, my friend.”
O olho de Deus meant “eye of God.” It was one of the Brazilian coven’s calling cards to stab their enemies in the eye socket with a knife called a facón. Puck had clearly heard about it, because he didn’t ask me to explain. He just swallowed hard and slid a little further into his seat.
“I didn’t kill him,” he repeated lamely.
“We know.”
His head jerked up. “You know who did?”
I shrugged.
“Oh, I see. You know, Prospero, I thought you left the game behind a long time ago. Turns out the cop game’s just as dirty, right?”
“Spare us the street morality routine,” Morales said. “We’re here because your ex-girlfriend is tied up in the case we’re working. We want you to tell us everything you know about it.”
“Krystal.” He said the name with about as much warmth as one might say Nazis.
Morales shook his head. “Must have been tough. Your own girl.” He clucked his tongue. “Had to sting, man.”
Puck perked up and his cheeks got some color. “She’s a suspect?”
“Her new boyfriend got murdered.”
“Her new boyfriend?” His voice rose. “Who?”
“Basil Valentine.”
His eyes widened and his hand clenched into a fist. “That pussy-ass pimp? Goddamn!”
“It’s only been what, Prospero?” Morales said.
“Six weeks,” I said in a dismayed tone. “That’s awfully quick to find herself a new man.”
Puck drew in a deep breath, like he was trying to get his temper under control.
“You know what I heard?” Morales said to him. “Krystal sold you out because she wanted to take over the Votaries. Did you know she had ambitions to take over the coven?”
Puck sucked on his teeth. “She said she wanted to open a nail salon. Was taking business classes.”
“Oh, she opened a business, all right.” I smiled. “A massage parlor that specializes in happy endings.”
“That scheming bitch,” he growled. “Watch and see—she’ll be dead before the month is out.”
“Why?”
“She ain’t street. Not as smart as she thinks, either. They’ll eat her alive.”
“Who will?” Morales said. “The Chinese?”
Puck rubbed his bottom lip, smearing the blood from his wound. He looked down at the smear of red on his left hand and huffed out a humorless laugh. He lifted it up to show us. “I got this tattoo the day I turned sixteen.”
He nodded at the snake-eating-its-own-tail tattoo on his left wrist. I had a similar one on my left wrist. It marked us as made members of the Votary coven. I remembered the day I got mine, too. How proud I’d been.
“The thing they told us over and over was never to snitch on your family. Right?” He looked right at me as he said it. I nodded because there was no use pretending I didn’t get that same lecture. “Where’s the family now? Who’s got my back? Fuck ’em. I’ll tell you what I know.”
I was surprised to feel a twinge in my gut. Maybe it was just that I knew what snitching cost a company man. You don’t rat out your coven—or anyone, for that matter. It’s the first and last commandment of the streets. But since I’d been a cop, I’d seen the screws get turned on enough street toughs to know that it took a pair of steel balls to sacrifice your own life for the good of the coven. However, I also knew that the first people to snitch to save their own asses when they got nabbed were the bosses themselves, the very ones who’d beaten the “no snitch” law into their troops.
“The Chinese,” Morales prompted softly.
“Right. So, before the shit went down with the Brazilians, there was some new marching orders came down from the top.”
“From Abe?” Morales asked.
“Yeah. Through Charm.”
“How did Abe communicate with Charm?” I asked.
“Couple of ways,” he said. “Abe’s got a private phone in his cell at Crowley so he can call whenever he wanted. But he knew that was monitored, so he also has a guard on payroll who acts as a mule.”
The fact Abe had his own phone or a guard under his thumb wasn’t exactly a surprise. If power brokers like Abe were denied anything, the warden might find his favorite son floating in the family pool when he got home.
“So, what were the orders?” I asked.
“We were supposed to start moving a new package on our corners. Something we ain’t seen before.
“What kind of potion?”
“Charm didn’t say. Just that it was some new formula and we were supposed to hand out samples to get the hexheads hooked.”
“It was a Votary potion?” Morales asked.
“Nah. It was from outside the state. The vials I saw had some weird markings I ain’t seen before.”
“Could you recognize it if you saw it again?” I asked. “Or draw it?”
“I think so.”
I slid a piece of paper and a pen across the table. After a moment, he handed over the rough drawing.
Morales studied it for a moment before handing it to me for a look. It was the same symbol that had been on the vials from Basil’s house—the Chinese symbol for cinnabar.
“Why would Abe make a deal with the Chinese?”
Puck shook his head. “Don’t know. Charm wasn’t so open to answering questions, you feel me? But knowing Abe, he wouldn’t do it unless there was some big win in it for him.”
“When did all of this happen in relation to you helping Pantera Souza kill Charm?” Morales asked.
Puck paused, staring hard at Morales.
“You already pled guilty to that crime,” Morales pointed out.
“A couple of weeks before. See, Charm said we had to keep the new package on the down low.”
“From who?” I asked.
He leaned back, his demeanor changed from that of a man offering confession to one about to launch a grenade.
“Aphrodite. Charm said if the Hierophant found out, it could cause problems.”
Instead of pursuing that path like he wanted me to, I detoured back. “Why did you kill Charm?”
He sneered. “Because I saw where it was all headed. It was only a matter of time until Aphrodite found out what we were doing. Figured I’d get poisoned or we’d find ourselves in the middle of a turf war.”
“So, you figured you off Charm and take over the coven?”
“Something like.”
“Guess that didn’t work out so well, did it?”
“We ain’t at war, are we?”
I tilted my head. “Why all the love for Aphrodite?”
“I don’t give a shit about the hermaphrodite. I just don’t want to see the Votaries get destroyed because Abe’s gone crazy in the clink, you know?”
“What makes you think he’s crazy?” I asked.
He looked down at his prison-issued canvas shoes. “The Chinese aren’t the only alliance he’s made.”
“Well?” Morales prompted.
“Look, you want to know about the Chinese, I told you. But there’s some shit I won’t talk about.”
“Why?” Morales asked.
He laughed. “There’s people running trade in this town that I don’t want gunning for me, is all. Getting stabbed in the eye by the Brazilians or poisoned by Aphrodite would be a relief compared to what they’d do to me.”
“Who the hell is left?” I counted people off on my fingers. “Abe’s in prison, Harry Bane’s mean but dumb—every other major player is dead or in jail.”
Puck looked at me with an expression bordering on pity. “Ain’t my job to cure your blindness.”
I let that bait float by, since he obviously had no intention of doing more than taunting us. Better to focus on the case at hand. “If Krystal is the leader of the Votaries now, do you know why she’d choose to carry out the original plan to work with the Chinese?”
He shrugged. “She probably thinks carrying out Abe’s marching orders will protect her.”
“Do you know who Charm’s connect was in the Fangshi?” Morales asked.
“Never met anyone specific, but I saw him talking to this Chinese-looking dude one time.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Didn’t see him too good. He was driving a black Mercedes.”
“When was that?”
“The day before we killed him.” There was no emotion in his tone. Simply stating a basic fact. Murder was a means to an end. Not anything worth being emotional about.
“You ever see that man again?” I asked.