Thread of Truth, стр. 19

SIXTEEN

I found Sal Boston in his garage in Carmel Valley, working on a motorcycle, covered in grease, and playing every bit the part Bill Cousins warned me about.

I'd made the drive from the Cousins home after Bill had gotten me Sal’s address and phone number. I parked at the curb and made my way up the driveway. The garage was open and Sal was hunched over the bike in a pair of shorts and an AC/DC t-shirt that was missing its sleeves, studying something beneath the seat. He glanced up at me, not bothering to hide his annoyance as I approached.

“Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying,” he said, turning his attention back to the bike.

“You Sal?” I asked.

He looked up again. “Who are you?”

“My name's Joe Tyler,” I said. “Hoping I could talk to you for a minute.”

“About what?”

“Olivia Cousins?”

He straightened up and laid his rag on the bike seat. Bill's description of him puffing his chest out artificially was dead on. He was nearly leaning back in his attempt to appear physically intimidating. He was about six feet tall and his bulging biceps seemed to indicate that he lifted weights, at least enough to look impressive in a sleeveless shirt. His blond hair was overgrown, like he'd needed a haircut a month earlier, hanging too far down his forehead and over his ears.

“The fuck you want to talk to me about that dumb bitch for?” he asked.

“You know about her boyfriend?”

He cracked a smile. “Des-moron? What about that little dipshit?”

“He's dead.”

The smile faded. “No shit?”

“No shit.”

He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Oh, well. Kid was a dick.” The smile returned. “Maybe now I oughta pay a visit to Olivia, remind her what she's missing.” He made a face. “Except she's probably carrying all of that baby fat.”

I stared at him. “Bill Cousins was right.”

“Her dad?” A look of confusion crossed his face. “About what?”

“About you being a first-class prick.”

He glowered at me and made a big show of coming around the bike. He walked slowly toward me. I wasn't sure if he thought I was going to turn and run or what, but I stood there and waited on him.

“You wanna say that again?” he said. He looked like a peacock strutting toward me.

“He said you were a first-class prick and I agree,” I told him. “Are you also hard of hearing?”

His cheeks flushed pink. “Look, pal—”

“Just stop,” I interrupted him. “Stop. Take a second and think.”

His brow furrowed.

“I just showed up here, unannounced,” I said. “I told you why I'm here. And I didn't go running down your driveway when you came toward me. That should tell you two things. One, I'm not afraid of you. Two, you should probably be afraid of me.” I shook my head. “Don't embarrass yourself.”

He looked less sure of himself, but still pissed off. “Look, man, I don't care what—”

“You got a record?” I asked, interrupting him again.

His mouth was still open in mid-sentence.

“You do, right?” I said. “It just seems to fit you. So before you attempt to do anything stupid with me, think about that. If you're on probation or you need to stay clean, just think about that.”

He closed his mouth and swallowed. He looked away for a moment. “What do you want?”

“Well, now I want to know what's on your record.”

“You a cop?”

“Used to be. Still have friends that are cops. Can call them if you want.”

He sighed. “I got in a fight.”

“Shocking.”

“Assault and battery,” he said. “Just finished probation. I'm good now.”

“So keep it that way then and let's not get stupid here.”

“What the fuck do you want?”

“You were still pursuing Olivia after she dumped you,” I told him. “Why?”

“Because Des-moron was a waste of space,” he answered. “Because she needed to come to her senses. He had her fooled like crazy and I wanted her to see that.”

“How did he have her fooled?”

His chest puffed out again, as if he was regaining some of the confidence I'd aired out of him. “Did you know him?”

I shook my head.

“That dude was a fraud,” he said. “Total fraud. And she was too dumb to see it.”

“Were you friends with him?”

He frowned at me, insulted by the possibility. “Fuck no. But I knew him from school.”

“So why all the animosity toward him?”

“Because he was all wrong for her and I wanted her to see that.”

“And maybe you were mad that she dumped you for him,” I said.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, nodding. “I was. I'm not gonna lie. I thought about kicking his ass, but I knew that would just make Olivia mad at me. So I didn't say shit to him. Not once. I haven't seen the kid in months.” He paused. “And I'm not sorry I won't see him again.” He shrugged. “Not my friend.”

“Clearly.”

“How'd he die?”

“You don't know?”

“Why would I know?”

“Hit and run,” I said. “Up on Torrey Pines Road. Someone drove up over the back of him.”

He smirked. “Dipshit was probably riding the wrong way in traffic.”

“Just for that I'm going to pass your name on to the detectives working his case,” I told him. “They can come talk to you about where you were when it happened. How about that?”

The confidence drained away again. “You think I did something to that kid? You're crazy.”

“I don't know what you did or didn't do,” I said. “But I don't care. A kid died and you're happy about it. I'm happy to make your life a little miserable.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. Maybe do yourself a favor. Maybe take a better look at your buddy Des-moron's life. Maybe ask around a bit more than just his girlfriend. Because that dude was no angel.” He made a dismissive wave. “Fuck off outta here,