Sparrow walking up and down the sidewalk hawking maps to stars’ homes, you know you’ve pretty much reached the abyss.
No wonder people were looking for a new way of life. No wonder Sonny Moon over there could get people to take his stuff and give him money in return.
151
AFTER AN HOUR more of hanging out with Sonny Moon, Knuckles finally headed back toward Las Palmas. I went for my car and got across the boulevard in time to see him pulling away from the community center. His Lincoln wouldn’t be hard to follow, as long as I didn’t get caught at a light.
I didn’t get caught.
And didn’t have far to follow.
It was a duplex on Beachwood, with a straight-on view of the Hollywood sign. A sago palm in front, twin cypresses on the sides. Well kept.
Friendly. Like I wasn’t.
Knuckles turned into the driveway and went all the way back. I parked on the side street, got the tire iron from my trunk, and walked up the same drive.
I knocked on the oak door in the back unit. I held the tire iron behind my right leg.
Knuckles opened up.
“Where’s the rifle?” I said.
He just looked at me.
“You have any felonies you want to tell me about?”
He started to slam the door, but I was ready. I kicked it flush with my right foot. It flew open and Knuckles stumbled back a few steps.
He recovered and the look in his eye told me he wanted to pounce. I held up the tire iron and said, “Hold it, Sparky.”
He held, then asked me, in very uncivil language, what I was doing.
“Get on your knees,” I said.
Knuckles didn’t move.
“This thing makes dents,” I said. “I will dent you. Get on your knees.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“Now!” I brought the iron down on a little table by the door. It smashed in half.
Knuckles, gape mouthed, just looked at me. I gave him a Jack Black stare-down. Crazy eyes.
He lowered himself to his knees. The place had a hardwood floor. Good.
“Now lace your hands behind your head,” I said.
“You can’t just come in here. This is my house.”
“You own it?”
“Come on, man. What do you want?”
“A confession.”
He said nothing, but didn’t look confused.
“I’m going to search the place,” I said. “And to do that, I have to incapacitate you. Or you can just tell me where it is now, and we’ll be done.”
“You’re whacked out, dude. The cops are gonna love this.”
“What, you’re going to turn me in? There is no criminal conduct here. You opened the door, I came in, we talked.”
“You have a tire iron!”
“Do I? And you can prove this how?”
“You can’t just come into a guy’s house. You can’t do this.”
“And for what I’m about to do, my role as an officer of the court and champion of justice is to inform you that after I’m through searching your house and your car, and you, if need be, you have the right to sue me. You can take me to court. Maybe a judge or jury will look at you favorably and say, this man deserves some compensation. Of course, you may have to do it from a jail cell, but people are very flexible and open these days.”
“Am I supposed to just sit here while you go through my house?”
“I’m going to need you to lie flat on the floor while I tie you up. Got any duct tape around?”
“What is it you’re after?”
“You know what it is, Sparky. You think you can shoot a nun and walk away. But you tell me who put you up to it, maybe I can help you stay out of the joint. You don’t want to go back to the joint, do you?”
“What are you talking about nuns?”
“How much hard time you do?”
“Come on.”
“The kid can ID you, the one you beat up. He can ID the stink in your hair. What is that junk anyway?”
“What ID?”
“You’re making this hard on yourself.”
He told me to perform an anatomically impossible act.
I gave him a love tap on the back of his thigh.
He shrieked. For a tough guy he sure made noise. Then he puffed a few times and said, “Someday I’m gonna find you.”
“After your kneecaps are replaced?”
He said nothing. I was tempted to do it. But I could almost see Father Bob shaking his head at me. And Sister Mary, waving her Thomas Merton book. I wanted to argue with them, but I heard a scuffing sound behind me.