Thread of Truth, стр. 29
Zavalla licked his lips and watched his guys work for a moment before turning back to me. “That what this is? You’re shaking me down?”
“Not me.”
“Because if that’s what you’re doing, motherfucker, you better be sure you want this,” he growled. “I fight back and I fight dirty.”
“That what you told Desmond?”
His entire face wrinkled. “What the fuck does Desmond have to do with this?”
For the first time since I’d gotten there, doubt set up camp in my head. “Was he blackmailing you?”
“Desmond?” he asked, his face still pinched together. “What are you talking about? Look, you wanna pull some shit with me, go ahead and try. You wanna make your phone calls or whatever, do it. But I’m not gonna stand here and bullshit with you.”
It had made sense to me. His last name. The leverage Desmond could’ve had on him. The anger Desmond would’ve felt toward him because Zavalla wouldn’t give him more hours. I thought I had it figured out where he’d gotten the money from.
But it looked like I hadn’t figured out anything.
“Hear me out,” I said, then told him exactly why I’d come.
Zavalla listened with his arms across his chest, the irritation never leaving his face as I explained the emails.
“I never got a single email from the kid,” he said when I was done. “And I can’t think of anyone that calls me Z. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”
He was either a great actor or he was telling the truth.
I was certain he was telling the truth.
“Okay,” I said, admitting defeat. “I think I just wasted your time. I’m sorry.”
“So you aren’t looking to bust me up here?” he asked.
I shook my head.
He shook his head, slid his sunglasses back on, and headed toward the grass.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Stan Zavalla kept walking, his middle finger extended high over his head.
TWENTY FIVE
I sat in my car in the parking lot for a few minutes, trying to figure out my next move. I felt like I'd struck on something with Zavalla, but that had been a dead end and I was doubting myself. I knew that Tom Locker was sincere in his desire for answers, even if he didn't like what I’d brought to him. I wasn't sure Alice felt the same way, but she didn't tell me not to. So I had an obligation to find what I could.
I called Ed Carr to ask if he had any updates, but just got his voicemail. I left him a message, but I had a feeling I wasn't going to be high up on his list of priorities. He wasn't thrilled to have me involved even on the periphery and I doubted he was probing too deeply into what happened. He was focused on what car took Desmond down and rightfully so. I didn't begrudge him doing his job.
I thought about calling Swanson, but I was going to see her later for dinner and I didn't want to make it any more awkward than it already was.
So I decided to go back to the skate park because the guys there were the ones that had pointed me in the direction of something else going on with Desmond.
The ramps were empty, save for Donnie and his lieutenant. The rest of the crew were missing in action and the two of them were sitting in the middle of the skate area, passing a joint back and forth. They glanced in my direction when I pulled up to the curb, but neither made any move to take off or to hide the weed.
Donnie took a long hit from the joint, then passed it to his pal as I approached. He exhaled, blowing a massive cloud of smoke up and over his head. “It's Joe the investigator. Whattup, Joe the investigator?”
His partner perched the joint between his lips and chuckled.
“Just in the neighborhood,” I said. “Thought I'd come by and say hi.”
They both laughed in that way that only super stoned teens can, almost like cartoon characters.
I sat down next to them. The short guy held the joint out in my direction.
I held up a hand. “I'll pass, but thanks.”
He shrugged and passed it back to Donnie.
“Went over to Seaside,” I said. “Asked around a bit. Didn't get very far.”
Donnie blew another cloud of smoke. “Too bad.”
“I'm hoping you can help me.”
“Doubt it, Joe the investigator.”
“I'm gonna try anyway,” I said. “Who, specifically, should I be talking to over there?”
Donnie carefully set the joint on the ground between him and his buddy. He leaned back on his hands. “No clue, dude.”
“Yeah,” his buddy said. “No clue.”
They both cracked up.
Donnie pointed a finger at me. “Hey. I heard you really did fuck up Sal. That is fucking awesome, man.”
I shrugged.
“He's in a sling,” Donnie said.
They both burst into laugher again.
“Well, I'm sorry if he was really hurt,” I said. “But he took a swing at me and he shouldn't have.”
“That's so cool,” the sidekick said.
“What is your name? I got Donnie's but not yours.”
“I'm Burt,” he said.
“That's actually his last name,” Donnie said. “His first name is Greg.” Donnie started laughing. “Fucking Greg.”
“Shut up,” Burt/Greg said.
I let the laughing die down. “Look, I need your help. I'm not asking you guys to rat anyone out or anything like that. I just need a little help.”
Donnie frowned. “Like, with what, man?”
“I know that Desmond was getting money from someone,” I explained. “I don't know from who. I know it wasn't from work. You guys told me to go ask around school, which was a really specific thing to say, so I'm thinking there might be an answer for me there. I just need some direction.”
“How's that gonna help find who ran over him?” Burt asked.
“I don't know that it will,” I said, for what seemed like the twentieth time. “But there was