The Demon Hunters by Linda Welch Page A

on
the coffee table. “A young man has gone missing and his . . .
friends . . . are concerned. I’m trying to find him.”
    “ Ah. You speak of Rio
Borrego.”
    No hedging, no puzzlement, no
questions. They already knew why I went to them, and they
approved.
    I nodded and leaned over my knees,
caught the edge of Gerarco’s frown and straightened up again. Thou
shalt not slouch in front of formidable old men who could off you
with a gesture. “My partner and I have little to go on. We’re
looking at every angle. A year or so ago, Rio was engaged in a
fracas with some local boys.”
    A fracas. Not a turf war,
not a gang fight, not a vendetta. A noisy but fairly harmless
set-to. Just local lads having a disagreement. Right.
    Gerarco’s right eyebrow rose and his
chin nodded almost imperceptibly in agreement with my choice of
words. Yeah, I can be diplomatic when I have to.
    “ My partner and I wondered
if Rio and these young boys met again.”
    I didn’t have to add anything. They
knew what I did not say. I waited, bolt upright, starting to sweat
in an unfeminine way, as some kind of unspoken communication passed
between Margot and Gerarco.
    Margot got to her feet and I rose to
mine. “We know these boys. We will talk to them,” she
said.
    I turned to Gerarco. “Thank you,
Senor.”
    He nodded.
    I turned back to Margot.
“The coffee and biscochitos were delicious.”
    Margo’s hand went to the crucifix
which now hung around her neck and she smiled slightly. She walked
behind me as I went through the house and out the front door. I
didn’t look back as I went along the path.

Chapter Eight
     
     
    I munched on a donut, but that
reminded me of Royal. He has this cop ability to eat a powdered
donut and not get a speck of sugar on himself. I get it
everywhere.
    I sighed as I looked at the monitor. I
had hacked into the Utah DMV, but couldn’t track down a black
Mercedes-Benz. I’d browsed some more, and didn’t find anything I
didn’t already know about Gia Sabato or Daven Clare. Just to be
thorough, I took a look at the Bugle’s archives. Our local
newspaper is just that, local, so I didn’t expect to find
anything.
    And there it was in black and white.
Daven Clare’s house on Bella Vista burned to the ground three weeks
ago.
    Staring at the monitor, I leaned back
in the chair. If Gia and Daven wanted my help, why withhold
possibly significant information? Rio attacked by a rival gang a
year ago was trivial? The fire department said the fire at Daven’s
house was deliberately set - arson wasn’t worth mentioning? What
else weren’t they telling me?
    “ What is going on?”
    “ Maybe they know it had
nothing to do with this Rio’s disappearance, so why say anything?”
Jack said.
    I started, and I don’t usually when
voices came at me out of thin air. Not in my house, anyway, because
I know who they belong to.
    “ God, you’re jumpy,” Mel
said.
    I rattled my fingernails on
the edge of the keyboard. “Yeah. This case is getting to me.” I
swung my chair. “ They’re getting to me.”
    “ I don’t blame you,” Mel
said. “The woman is unnatural.”
    “ Tell me about
it.”
    I held up a warning hand as
Mel opened her mouth. “I did not mean it literally.”
    “ What about my idea?” Jack
asked.
    I rubbed my hand over my mouth,
squeezed my chin with my fingers. “Perhaps they don’t see any
relevance. Perhaps they do, but it’d take me places they don’t want
me to go. But, hey, they hired me. I’m an investigator, I’m gonna
investigate. I’m gonna take a look at Clare’s house.”
    I closed down the PC and went to my
closet to get a pair of heavy shoes. Although the fire happened
three weeks ago, the site could still be messy. I hoped Daven
hadn’t started cleaning up the property.
    I trotted downstairs and through the
hall, pausing to turn on the AC so the house would be cool when I
got back. Mel and Jack watched me go through the door like a mom
and dad seeing their kid off to