“There’s Jake Hatch.”
A short, stocky man in an expensive gray suit had come into the cafe. He wore a watch chain and vest over his ample belly. He had the kind of pale, heavy face that always looks like it needs a shave.
Hatch scowled at the gyrating band, and at the room that was still more than half empty.
“Will he recognize you?” Jupiter asked.
“Definitely,” Bob said. “He won’t know what we want with Tiburon, but Gracie’ll have told him about my visit.”
Hatch stood just inside the door. He looked sourly at the pounding band and watched a few more people trickle in as the set came to a crashing end. The Piranhas immediately abandoned their instruments and joined the girls at the front table. Tiburon circulated through the small crowd, talking and grinning. Jake Hatch lit a cigar. Then he saw Bob, and his heavy eyebrows went up. He came over to the table.
“So?” Hatch said as he sat down. “Sendler needs Tiburon and the Piranhas, eh? Get it straight: I don’t split commissions.”
“We might be interested in a La Bamba band,” Bob said. “Sax sent us to look at Tiburon. He’s looking in L.A.”
Hatch laughed nastily. “That ain’t what Gracie tells me. You got a guy that spotted Tiburon and the boys up in Oxnard a couple of nights ago. He’s hot for them.”
“But we don’t have to find Tiburon do we?” Bob grinned. “If we do, it’s a fifty-fifty split.”
Hatch’s face darkened with anger. “Someday I’m gonna run that Sendler out of town. Everyone knows he lies and cheats to get clients and gigs. You’ll go with him, kid, if you don’t wise up and get your act straight.”
“Glad to see you’re so interested in my career,” Bob said smoothly.
“Take my advice and dump Sendler,” Jake Hatch said. He puffed on his cigar. “How’d you like to make some good money right now?”
“I always like to make money.” Bob smiled.
“Tell me everything Sendler does. Who his clients are, how he lines up his bands, the works.”
“Gosh, that’d be spying, wouldn’t it, Mr. Hatch?” Bob said in mock horror.
“Everyone spies, kid.”
“Sorry, Mr. Hatch. That’s not my style.”
Hatch glared at him.
“Don’t play so honest with me. What do you call what you’re doing in here? You think I don’t know Sendler sent you here to make a deal with Tiburon behind my back.”
“Says who?” Bob smiled. “Sax doesn’t — ”
Jupiter kicked Bob under the table. They couldn’t tell Jake Hatch that Saxon Sendler didn’t know they were there. Hatch would realize that the whole story about someone wanting El Tiburon and the Piranhas was a hoax. The agent looked at them suspiciously. Just then El Tiburon appeared at the table.
“Hey, you’re talking about El Tiburon, eh?” the tall, flashy bandleader announced. “My fans, right? You love our music. You gotta have El Tiburon and the Piranhas.”
“Well — ” Bob began.
“You’re all great,” Jupiter said hastily. “Especially you. Are you El Tiburon himself?”
“You’re looking at him.” The guitarist-singer drew himself up to his full height. Close up, he had a long, proud face as smooth as pale-brown glove leather. “You want a autographed picture? Jake, give these guys a pub shot.”
Hatch looked dubiously at Jupiter, not sure what his connection to Bob was. The uncertainty was clear on his face. If Jupiter was a real fan, Hatch didn’t want to offend him. But if Jupe was only there with Bob, Hatch wouldn’t do him any favors. He played it safe by trying to pass it over and tell Tiburon about Bob at the same time.
“They’re out in the car. I’ll get one later.” He nodded at Bob. “This guy here ain’t a fan. He works — ”
“Hey, I know my fans.” Tiburon scowled. His teeth showed, making his sharp face look a lot like his namesake. “Go get a picture for my friend, okay?”
Both Bob and Jupiter thought Hatch would explode. But the talent agent only swallowed hard. He managed a smile, got up, and went out the front door.
“Could I get a picture for my cousin Ty too?” Jupiter asked after Hatch had gone.
“Sure, Jake’ll bring a couple. Your cousin’s another fan of mine?”
“Not exactly,” Jupiter said. “Ty says he knows you. He wanted me to talk to you.”
“He someone in another band? I know a lot of guys in bands.”
“No,” Jupiter said. “He’s the guy who drove your brother’s car to Rocky Beach for you. He tried to, anyway, but he couldn’t find your brother.”
El Tiburon’s smile slowly faded. Then the smile came back, but it was a different smile now. The smile of a real shark.
“Yeah, I heard about this loco Anglo, steals some hot wheels and comes around with a crazy story about I asks him to drive it to my brother. Hey, even the cops don’t buy a story like that.” He shook his head as if sad for poor, crazy Ty. “Your cousin, hey? Too bad.”
“So you don’t know about the car or Ty?” Bob said.
Tiburon laughed. “Hey, man, this cousin you got should’ve stayed up in Oxnard. I mean, I ain’t even got no brother!” And the tall bandleader walked off, laughing all the way to the bandstand.
Bob looked at Jupiter in dismay. “Jupe? If he doesn’t have a brother, Ty has to be lying!”
Up on the bandstand the four Piranhas stared at Jupiter and Bob. Jake Hatch returned with a stack of photographs in his hand. He looked at the guys and then at El Tiburon and the Piranhas tuning up for their next set. The talent agent walked over to the band.
“Come on,” Jupiter said quickly, “let’s get out of here.”
“Don’t you want the photo?” Bob said.
“Watch me.”
They pushed through more arriving people and went out into the night. As they passed the display board outside on their way to Bob’s VW, Jupiter grabbed the photo of Tiburon and pulled it off.
Bob was still dejected when they got into the car. “He wouldn’t lie about a brother, Jupe. It’s got to be your cousin who’s lying.”
“Not if Tiburon was making Ty deliver a stolen car and lied about a brother then,” Jupiter said as Bob started the car and drove off. “And,” he added grimly, “someone is sure lying now.”
“Who, Jupe? What lie?”
“Tiburon could only have heard Ty’s story from us, the police, or Joe Torres and his friends. We didn’t tell. The police wouldn’t have. So Tiburon had to have been told what happened at the bodega by Torres or one of the other two. Which means one or all of them do know Tiburon and were lying to us and to the police!”