of this guy. With Vargas gone, Stick knew he was out in the cold. The medical examiner found no evidence of foul play, and neither have I. This is getting closed as a suicide, and I’m going the fuck home.”
Wilson stepped off the curb and walked to the car where Chuck was still waiting. He waved at me over his shoulder without looking back. Wilson and Chuck slid into the unmarked and drove off.
Two uniformed cops came out of the building toward the one police car that was left and got in it. They shut the flashing lights off and the whole block went dark. I watched the cops sit inside the car with the dome light on. They were comparing notes and laughing with each other. Just another stiff and another night on the job. Funny stuff, apparently. Then, after another minute, they drove off and the street was empty and quiet.
I could see the lights of Sunset Boulevard crossing Gower three blocks up. The cops drove up to it, turned right, and disappeared into the neon glow. It was a little after two in the morning and the drunks and crazies would be out in force. I needed to either become one of them, or get home quick. I started walking back to my car, when I heard a voice call out to me.
“Hey, man.”
It was coming from across the street. I turned back to look, suddenly afraid of getting robbed, and saw the guy with the patchy red beard who worked for Stick. He stood in the doorway watching me. I hesitated before crossing the street toward him. I walked up to him without saying anything and he stepped back to let me into the ratty reception area. It was only when I was inside that I realized how cool it was outside.
“So you’re Vargas’s lawyer?” the kid asked from behind me.
I leaned my back against the counter and faced him. He was leaning against the wall near the door. “Yeah,” I said. “You the one that found Stick? Called the cops?”
“Yeah.” The kid puffed out his cheeks and shook his head in disbelief. “That was some crazy shit.” I watched the way he slouched, studied the wispiness of his beard, and concluded he was only in his early twenties at the latest.
“What were you doing here?” I asked.
“Just came back to drop some gear off. Found him in the warehouse.” His eyes bulged with the memory and he shook his head again. “Man, I never seen nothing like that.”
“You think he hung himself?”
“Shit, I don’t know what I think.”
“How long have you known Stick?”
“Worked for him since he opened this place. I used to work at another prop place before. Heard about this one opening. Money was better.” The kid shrugged and looked concerned that he might have to look for another job.
I said, “And after all that time, did you get the impression Stick was the kind of guy who would kill himself?”
The kid looked at me and stroked the thin hairs on his chin. He seemed to be studying me, deciding what he should say next. Then he said, “No way, man. Pete was a tough motherfucker. He wouldn’t hang himself. At least, I don’t think he would.” Then he added, “Normally.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well,” the kid shrugged his shoulders, hesitating, watching me. He was giving me the creeps. Finally, he said, “I don’t know, man. I think he was in trouble. He was usually a really cool guy. You know, really easy going. But lately, he was tense. He seemed stressed.”
“You tell the cops this?”
“Sure.”
Then I pressed my luck, pushing the kid a little. “So what didn’t you tell the cops?”
He suppressed a startled look and I knew there was something he wanted to tell me but was afraid to. It was why he’d called me over in the first place. He must have assumed that because I was Vargas’s lawyer I was okay. Now he didn’t seem so sure. But I waited him out, letting the silence get to him. After a long thirty seconds, the kid cracked.
“Look man,” he started in a rush. “I don’t know anything. Alright? I mean, I don’t have any idea what was going on.”
“How do you know anything was going on at all?”
He realized his protest had showed more of his hand than he’d intended and he let out a sigh. I watched his shoulders sag and his head drop, like he was deflating right before