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ROB TRILLING AND I sat at Nantes’s usual table in Island Delight, the little restaurant connected to the bodega. We ordered a couple of Cuban sandwiches. Trilling went with a regular Coke while I tried something new: an orange soda made with real cane sugar. Holy cow was it sweet.

This place was only a few blocks from where the Salazars’ bodega was located. I was sure they knew the owners here too. There was just enough distance from the clubhouse that the Salazars’ bodega wasn’t one of the gang’s hangouts. I was happy the Salazars didn’t have to deal with this group directly.

I knew Jaime Nantes would recognize Trilling sitting at his usual table as soon as he walked in. I intended to use that short period of disorientation to pounce on the scumbag and get him to help us.

Nantes walked in the door and greeted the woman behind the counter. He turned toward the restaurant and the four tables set up in the cramped space. As soon as he noticed Trilling, he froze. Then he glanced around to make sure no one else he knew was inside the bodega.

I slid out the chair next to me.

Nantes took the hint and cautiously sat down. The first words out of his mouth were “Where’s Hernandez? That’s who I deal with.”

Trilling said, “She’s busy.”

“Then come back when she’s not busy.”

That’s when I decided to step in. I didn’t want this guy trying to tie Trilling up in verbal knots. Besides, it’s tough for any father to sit across from a creep like this and not do something. I don’t know if it was anger or disgust, but I had to speak up.

I said, “Settle down. We just want to talk to you for a minute. Detective Hernandez has more important things to deal with.”

Nantes said in a low voice, “I don’t know what you guys want. I already wore a wire for her and this redneck. I’m doing everything I’m supposed to do.” Nantes looked at me and said, “Who the hell are you anyway?”

“Michael Bennett, homicide.”

“So this is still about them murders, huh?”

I just said, “Yep.”

Nantes looked at the floor and shook his head. Then he said, “I done all I’m gonna do.”

I didn’t wait to drop our ace in the hole. “We found some old paper on you.”

“I ain’t got no warrants. They’d have come up while I was working with Hernandez and this guy.” He cut his eyes to Trilling like he had been cheated. Then he looked back at me and said, “What old paper?”

“A child pornography charge.”

Nantes flinched. “I worked that off with the FBI a couple of years ago. Just a bunch of bullshit.”

“It may be bullshit. But you still don’t want people talking about you molesting children. It’s bad for business.”

“That’s not cool, man. I wasn’t convicted of nothing.”

“But you had to work it off. That tells me you did something. Doesn’t matter if you were convicted or not. Your guys might consider the fact that you worked off a charge as bad as the child porn itself.” I just sat there and stared in silence. That had to be tough for Nantes to deny.

Finally, he said, “You want something from me or you wouldn’t have come here. What do I need to do to get out of this?”

I said, “We need you to get enough info on someone for us to charge him. We want to hear and see everything he does.”

Nantes looked between Trilling and me. Then he said, “Who are you talking about?”

“Antonio Deason.”