Risky Business

window, her bike, the lock for the chain, the cash box, the front and back doors of her house, her storage room. Eight keys for eight locks. But there was one more on her ring, a small silver key that meant nothing to her at all.
    Puzzled, she counted off the keys again, and again found one extra. Why should there be a key on her ring that didn’t belong to her? Closing her fingers over it, she tried to think if anyone had given her the key to hold. No, it didn’t make sense. Brows drawn together, she studied the key again. Too small for a car or door key, she decided. It looked like the key to a locker, or a box or… Ridiculous, she decided on a long breath. It wasn’t her key but it was on her ring. Why?
    Because someone put it there, she realized, and opened her hand again. Her keys were often tossed in the drawer at the shop for easy access for Luis or one of the other men. They needed to open the cash box. And Jerry had often worked in the shop alone.
    With a feeling of dread, Liz slipped the keys into her pocket. Jonas’s words echoed in her head. “You’re involved, whether you want to be or not.”
    Liz closed the shop early.
     
    Jonas stepped into the dim bar to the scent of garlic and the wail of a squeaky jukebox. In Spanish, someone sang of endless love. He stood for a moment, letting his eyes adjust, then skimmed his gaze over the narrow booths. As agreed, Erika sat all the way in the back, in the corner.
    “You’re late.” She waved an unlit cigarette idly as he joined her.
    “I passed it the first time. This place isn’t exactly on the tourist route.”
    She closed her lips over the filter as Jonas lit her cigarette. “I wanted privacy.”
    Jonas glanced around. There were two men at the bar, each deep in separate bottles. Another couple squeezed themselves together on one side of a booth. The rest of the bar was deserted. “You’ve got it.”
    “But I don’t have a drink.”
    Jonas slid out from the booth and bought two drinks at the bar. He set tequila and lime in front of Erika and settled for club soda. “You said you had something for me.”
    Erica twined a string of colored beads around her finger. “You said you would pay fifty for a name.”
    In silence, Jonas took out his wallet. He set fifty on the table, but laid his hand over it. “You have the name.”
    Erika smiled and sipped at her drink. “Maybe. Maybe you want it bad enough to pay another fifty.”
    Jonas studied her coolly. This was the type his brother had always been attracted to. The kind of woman whose hard edge was just a bit obvious. He could give her another fifty, Jonas mused, but he didn’t care to be taken for a sucker. Without a word, he picked up the bill and tucked it into his pocket. He was halfway out of the booth when Erika grabbed his arm.
    “Okay, don’t get mad. Fifty.” She sent him an easy smile ashe settled back again. Erika had been around too long to let an opportunity slip away. “A girl has to make a living, sí? The name is Pablo Manchez—he’s the one with the face.”
    “Where can I find him?”
    “I don’t know. You got the name.”
    With a nod, Jonas took the bill out and passed it to her. Erika folded it neatly into her purse. “I’ll tell you something else, because Jerry was a sweet guy.” Her gaze skimmed the bar again as she leaned closer to Jonas. “This Manchez, he’s bad. People got nervous when I asked about him. I heard he was mixed up in a couple of murders in Acapulco last year. He’s paid, you know, to…” She made a gun out of her hand and pushed down her thumb. “When I hear that, I stop asking questions.”
    “What about the other one, the American?”
    “Nothing. Nobody knows him. But if he hangs out with Manchez, he’s not a Boy Scout.” Erika tipped back her drink. “Jerry got himself in some bad business.”
    “Yeah.”
    “I’m sorry.” She touched the bracelet on her wrist. “He gave me this. We had some good times.”
    The air in the bar was stifling him. Jonas rose and hesitated only a moment before he took out another bill and set it next to her drink. “Thanks.”
    Erika folded the bill as carefully as the first. “De nada.”
     
    She’d wanted him to be home. When Liz found the house empty, she made a fist over the keys in her hand and swore in frustration. She couldn’t sit still; her nerves had been building all during the drive home. Outside, Moralas’s evening shift was taking over.
    For how long? she wondered. How