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Two rival gangs occupying the same space? Never a good thing. Tensions climbed and I could almost smell the testosterone. Miguel's back was up and he wasn't standing down for any of them.
    I stood my ground too, and didn't leave the boardwalk until the old lady rolled her cart down toward the parking lot, and I was sure the bangers weren't going to follow her. Then I strode over to where an impatient Miguel waited.
    I ignored his rage and kept my attention on the retreating bangers doing their cock-of-the-walk strut, bouncing fists off each other, mock wrestling. They stood beside the Escalade, flipped us the bird and watched us. I tried not to think how many of them were probably carrying.
    "You see the ink?" I asked quietly so none of them would overhear us.
    He was still angry. He glared at them, then swung around to turn his hostility on me. "Yes. Does it mean something?"
    "Eastside, Westside they don't co-habit peacefully. I think we interrupted something."
    "What? You think there's going to be more trouble than this?"
    I thought of the death of Isaac Simpson and the way it hadn't made any sense. "I think maybe it already did." If I was right it might be only the beginning of a whole mess of trouble.
    49

    A Forest of Corpses
    by P. A. Brown
    I turned to watch the gang bangers move as a group down the boardwalk, noticing how everyone got out of their way.
    They swaggered, sure of the fear they generated, not the least concerned a pair of Santa Barbara's finest were watching.
    "Think you can ID those tats?" I asked.
    "I got a good look at a few of them."
    "Let's hit the station. I think I recognized a couple of those mutts. If I can verify my ID we might find known associates."
    On our way back to our unmarked, Miguel glanced over at me. "What about the woman?"
    "Momo?"
    "We still going to look for her?"
    "More than ever."
    "You think she saw something?"
    "I think she knows exactly what went on, and if I'm right, she may be next."
    "You think they'll go after her as a witness?"
    "I think it's more than that." I glanced over my shoulder to where the old woman had vanished. "Did you see her fear?"
    "Of us?"
    "Not us. We didn't mean anything to her. It was the bangers."
    He shrugged. "So she's afraid of some rough looking guys.
    Who wouldn't be?"
    "It's more than that," I said. "I think those 'guys' are taxing the indigents down here."
    "Taxing them?"
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    A Forest of Corpses
    by P. A. Brown
    "Extorting them. Probably for protection. And Isaac Simpson refused to pay, or couldn't pay."
    Just before I keyed the car open, I spun away from it and nearly ran down Miguel. "Pit stop. I need to check something out with the manager."
    Milpas market was busier than it had been the first time we stopped in. I didn't have time to wait for the till to clear so I pulled my badge out and pushed through to the counter.
    When Hardy saw us his mouth turned down. This time there was no amiable down-home-New Englander-just-jawing. I had spotted a teenage girl stocking cans down one aisle. I nodded toward her after catching Hardy's eyes.
    "Get her behind the counter. We need to talk."
    He called to the girl, who approached looking nearly as sullen as Hardy. When she said, "What is it, Dad," I knew why. Family dynamics didn't concern me right now.
    "Take over here...?" I looked at her until she muttered,
    "Brittany."
    "Brittany. Your dad will be busy for a few minutes." I turned to Hardy. "Got an office?"
    He snorted. "No. We can go outside, in back where the ice machine is."
    Out where the buzz of hungry flies and the cries of gulls competed with the sound of nearby traffic. The ice machine was in front of a narrow alley where a blue dumpster overflowed with a week's worth of garbage, explaining the flies.
    Hardy planted himself in front of the ice machine, arms folded over his barrel chest.
    51

    A Forest of Corpses
    by P. A. Brown
    "We need to ask you some questions," I said before his belligerence could ratchet up into outright hostility. "I