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of needle-nose pliers and an unopened pack of spearmint gum. “That’s it.”
    â€œTurn your pockets inside out, bro,” Charlie ordered.
    â€œYeah, okay.” Eddie complied. “What’s next, a strip search?” he added sarcastically.
    â€œAnd have to look at your skinny ass? Hell no,” Gordon said. “Where’s your cell phone?”
    â€œLeft it in my car. I didn’t want it to fall out of my pocket while I was climbing through the roof.”
    â€œMakes sense. Okay,” Charlie announced. “You can keep everything except for the pliers. But if we see your face around here again, you’d better have enough money to reclaim that ring and watch—that is, if Baza didn’t take them when he left. Otherwise, after Saturday, we’re done,” Charlie said.
    â€œHow about my wallet?” Eddie asked.
    Charlie tossed it over. “I already took out two hundred for the damage.”
    â€œDamn,” Eddie said, checking inside the billfold before gingerly sticking it in his pocket. He walked stiffly to the front entrance, then paused while Charlie unlocked it. Five seconds later, he was out on the sidewalk, walking away almost at a jog.
    Charlie watched Eddie go down the block, then stepped back inside. “Think we should have turned him in?”
    â€œProbably. He’s dangerous. You know he might have stabbed you with that screwdriver,” Gordon asked.
    â€œYeah, I’m out of practice—or slowing down.”
    â€œIt’s always more dangerous taking them prisoner. You have to get up close and personal.”
    â€œBut we’re not in a war zone. Here, you’ve got to prove they’re the enemy first,” Charlie said. “Even then, you’ll likely end up in court.”
    â€œI’d rather err on the side of, say, staying alive.”
    Charlie looked around the big room. “Speaking of staying alive, where did we put those sopapillas?”

 
    Chapter Four
    Ten minutes later they sat in the business office of the pawnshop, polishing off the last of their fast food with day-old coffee, reheated in the microwave.
    Charlie’s cell phone began to vibrate. He picked it up and looked at the display. It was Nancy. He put the phone on speaker so Gordon could hear.
    â€œI’ve got the background you wanted on Edward J. Henderson,” she said. “Tell me again why you wanted this?”
    Charlie was looking for discrepancies in Eddie’s story but didn’t want the cops to intervene until they’d learned all they could from him.
    â€œWe talked to him in the store recently, and then his name came up here at the pawnshop regarding some possible missing items. I wanted to see if he had a record,” Charlie said, leaving out the details.
    â€œI couldn’t find a thing in the files except what’s on his valid New Mexico driver’s license, which lists an address corresponding to the Premier Apartments, west of the river. There’s no NM vehicle registered to him, no military or criminal record, and no busts or warrants. I couldn’t find him in other state databases, so he can’t have lived in the state for very long, unless he’s been ducking his taxes. He’s never been fingerprinted either, if we’re talking about the same Eddie Henderson,” Nancy said.
    She continued. “His social matches up with a Pennsylvania Edward Jerome Henderson of the right age, and he still has an unexpired driver’s license from that state. What set you off about this guy, anyway? You think he might have had a beef with Baza?”
    â€œMaybe, which is why we wanted anything you had. We have an address and a work location, so we’re gonna keep an eye on him.”
    He looked over at Gordon, who nodded.
    â€œIf you learn anything else that might link Henderson with Baza in a way that suggests they had a problem, let me know and I’ll pass it along to