I took a long drag on my cigarette, then tossed it into the puddle at my feet. I watched it hiss and go out.
Teddy tossed Edgar into a stack of boxes against the wall of the alley. Edgar made a low sort of sound, but he didn't have much else to add to the conversation. I looked up at Shorty. He was pale, trembling, and trying to claw his way backwards up the other wall.
"Teddy, meet Shorty. He works for Mr. Solomon." I turned to Shorty. "Shorty, meet Teddy. He works for Tracy. Tracy's got a few questions for you, and Teddy...well, Teddy's going to help you answer them."
Teddy stepped up to Shorty, towering over him, and grabbed his arm. Shorty yelped, a pathetic cry of terror that came from a deep pit of fear. "I suggest playing straight with these guys, Shorty. Do that, and you might even see the sun tomorrow."
I wouldn't take those odds. Maybe Teddy wouldn't have to break all of his bones, but Tracy wasn't in a lenient mood.
Teddy pulled the little man back into the shadows of the alley, back to whatever door he had come out of. Shorty wasn't giving him any trouble.
I figured that I had a few hours before Tracy was satisfied that Shorty had told him everything that he knew, so I decided to make use of the time.
I got in my car and headed towards my office. The wet streets reflected and splintered the harsh, primary colors of traffic lights. Good people were in bed by now. Bad people were beating and being beaten. I'm not sure what that makes me.
With my office in a building like this, it's no wonder that I attract the sort of clients that I do. A squat, brick building in a neighborhood that had seen better days, it didn't shout high class. No, this place mumbled under its breath, and then took another swig from a greasy bottle.
Which sounded pretty good right about now.
I climbed the stairs to my office, every step squeaking. At least no one could sneak up on me. I unlocked the door, turned on the light, and slumped into my chair. More creaking, but nothing some alcohol couldn't fix. And I had just the thing in the lower drawer.
Time to make a list. Terry's enemies? Might as well use the Greater L.A. telephone book. Jake Solomon seems to be involved, somehow, at least with the Mr. Smith angle. Too bad Teddy had a hard time controlling his fists. Solomon might not be the smartest criminal in L.A., but he wasn't stupid enough to take on Terry.
But Terry was eager to get his hands on Smith. Too eager, as it turned out. But Terry thought that Smith was involved, somehow. And if Smith was involved, and if Solomon was trying to hide him from Terry, that meant...well, it meant something.
I poured myself some more Scotch. If Solomon was going up against Terry, then Jake must have one hell of a reason. Jake wouldn't grab Terry's kid; that's not Jake's area of expertise, and he's smart enough to know that Terry would send Teddy after him. And Jake's goons were no match for Teddy.
So if Jake wanted Smith out of the way for a while, then Jake must have been doing it as a favor. Jake Solomon was a criminal, but a criminal with ambition. So Jake was a small fish doing a favor for a bigger fish. Now, which of the bigger fish would have a beef with Terry...
The phone rang, harsh and loud in the quiet building.