Part 3 (1/2)
”The cops came to question him this morning. They said they were following an anonymous tip. Walked straight to his backyard and found a b.l.o.o.d.y baseball bat under the bushes. Before they hauled Ed away, he told me to talk to you. Said you'd know why he's being set up.”
”Oh, my G.o.d. I do know why he's being set up. Just this morning he told me he uncovered some irregularities between the Beaumont School and several government agencies. They know he's digging for information. We can be pretty sure he's made some very powerful enemies. Ed needs a good lawyer. Does he have one?”
Crusher nodded. ”One of the guys. He's with Ed now.”
”What exactly does Ed want me to do?”
He paused for a second, seeming to size me up. ”You're hooked up with a cop. You could get information for us.”
I crackled at his suggestion. How dare he ask me to manipulate Beavers! ”That's ridiculous. I don't take advantage of my friends.” Golem or not, I glowered at the giant and put my fists on my hips.
To my surprise, he smiled a little. Then he threw back his head and laughed from a place deep inside.
”What?”
”You're small but fearless. I like that.”
Small? Did he just say small? I must admit, standing next to Crusher, I didn't feel the least bit overweight. I stepped aside to let him in the house.
”Would you like some water?”
”No, but I'd sure like to sit down. I've been standing a long time.”
My heart sank as he walked inside and headed toward my cream-colored sofa with my favorite blue-and-white quilt draped over the back. I waited tensely for it to collapse under his weight, but I relaxed when only air strangled out of the cus.h.i.+ons.
I closed the door and sat in a comfortable overstuffed chair. My living room, painted the color of driftwood, featured neutral-colored upholstery and accents of blues and oranges in the rug and accessories. White linen drapes softly framed the windows. ”It's true I want to help Ed, but I'm not willing to take advantage of my friend. Let's just get that off the table right now.”
Crusher s.h.i.+fted his weight and the sofa frame groaned. ”Okay. I get it, but I know the cops are going to take the easy way out and settle on Ed as the doer. Isn't there anyone else around here who might have had the stones to go after the b.a.s.t.a.r.d?”
”I can't think of anyone else. Although, I did notice a couple of sleeping bags and other items under the tall bushes on the other side of the river, right across from the crime scene. I'm thinking there might have been witnesses camping there.”
”Or maybe a homeless guy killed the dude. The cops are probably already tearing up their place right now trying to ID him.”
I nodded. ”Yeah, but I think I have a better chance of identifying them than the police do.”
Crusher's eyebrows pushed together. ”How?”
”I've got a friend.” I told him about Hilda and my plans to find the guy who lived under the bushes. ”She's arranging a meeting with a guy named Switch, a sort of king of the LA River homeless.”
”Don't be an idiot! I know this guy. He's a whack job. Gets his name from carrying a six-inch blade. You can't go in there!”
”Watch me.”
”Okay now, babe, that's just wrong. Even the cops don't go in there alone.”
”I'm not going in there to arrest anyone. I'm going in to buy information. It's just a business deal.”
”You can't deal with those lowlifes. They're thieves, pimps, and dealers. Without protection, you could get hurt real bad. Me and the others will have to go with you.”
There it is again! Another man telling me what to do. Is bossiness programmed into their DNA?
”Seriously? You guys look a lot scarier than the police. I, on the other hand, am not a threat. I think I'll have better luck alone.”
He shook his head. ”You're being stubborn, not smart.”
Crusher was right. I'd be taking a big chance going unprotected into a den of known criminals. ”Fine. I'll ask Hilda what she thinks. She may be homeless, but she's sharp, and I trust her. If she says it's safe, I'm going in, and I'll try to get her to come with me.” I paused for a beat. ”How'd you get the name 'Crusher,' anyway?”
”I used to be in that line of work.”
”What line would that be?”
”Crus.h.i.+ng.”
I hope he isn't referring to skulls or kneecaps.
He jerked his head slightly toward the street. ”You ever ride a bike?”
”What?”
He smiled and ducked his chin a little. ”You want to go for a ride sometime?”
”Are you insane? I'm fifty-five years old, for G.o.d's sake!”
”So?”
”What's your real name, anyway?”
”I told you. Crusher.”
”No, I mean the one you were born with.”
His eyes twinkled. ”Yossi. Yossi Levy.”
Impossible! My brain stopped for a second and I blinked rapidly. Did I hear him right? ”You're Jewish? There's no such thing as a Jewish biker.”
Crusher laughed. He was having way too much fun at my expense.
The knocking on my door pulled me out of my shock. Before I could get up, a key sc.r.a.ped in the lock and Beavers walked into the room. He stood unmoving when he caught sight of Crusher sitting on my sofa. I thought Crusher smiled slightly.
Never taking his eyes off the biker, Beavers said, ”Martha?”
I got up and walked over to him. ”Hi, Arlo.”
He put his arm protectively around my shoulders, still staring at Crusher. ”You okay?”
”Why wouldn't I be? This is a friend of my neighbor Ed's.” I hesitated, trying to decide whether to introduce him as Crusher or Yossi.