Free L. A. Heat by P. A. Brown

the hell spends eight hundred bucks on a
pair of fuckin’ jeans?”
    “Was he driving or did you see them on the
street?”
    “They was walking, like us.”
    “When did this happen, Leroy? How long ago?”
    “Last summer, I think. It was after we graduated.
I think maybe my girl was back in school—she’s in grade eleven this year, only repeated
one grade. Like Jay ’n’ me.”
    “So she was back in school.” David steered him
back to the topic at hand. “So it had to be after September, that right?”
    “September? Sure. Musta been. Before Halloween,
though. That was the last time Jay ’n’ me did anything together.” Leroy
fidgeted and grimaced. “He wanted us to go to West Hollywood for the Halloween
parade, but why would I wanna see a bunch of flaming queens goin’ down the
street dressed as girls? Buncha sickos. I told him I ain’t doin’ that.”
    “Did Jay go anyway?”
    “He stayed here, but I could tell he wasn’t happy.
After that we stopped hangin’ out so much.”
    “This guy you saw in Hollywood. Would you
recognize him again?”
    “I dunno. It’s been awhile. You think he might’ve
had something to do with Jay?” Leroy straightened. “Think he’s the one did Jay?
No way, man, he was too fuckin’ soft. A real queer boy.”
    “At this point I’m just trying to find anyone who
might have known Jay. That’s all. What about specific bars Jay hung out in. He
ever give you any names?”
    David watched as the younger man dug into his
memory. His eyes squinted as he stared over David’s left shoulder.
    “There was one place...Nosh something. Dumb name.
Pit, the Nosh Pit, that was it.” Leroy plucked at the loose folds of his jeans.
“You really think you gonna find out who killed Jay? You do, I want five
minutes with him.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Gillie. I appreciate you giving me
this time.”
    He seemed reluctant to let David go.
    “Think you’ll find him?”
    David tucked his notebook back into his pocket. “We’ll
find him.”
    “What’s gonna happen to him when you do?”
    “He’ll get due process.”
    “Sure,” Leroy said. “You gotta say that, don’t
you? After what he done, he don’t deserve—what’d you call it?—due process.”
    David handed over one of his cards, and watched as
Leroy labored over the printed words. His lips moved over David’s full name and
rank.
    “If you think of anything else,” David said,
“you’ll let me know?”
    “Sure.”
    “If I come by with some pictures, would you look
them over and see if there’s anyone you recognize?”
    “Like a lineup? Could you get me into a real
lineup? You tell me who to finger and I’ll make sure the asshole don’t walk.”
    “It doesn’t quite work that way,” David said
gently.
    “I won’t tell.” Leroy stared down at the painted
cement floor. He sighed. “You’re not gonna get him, are you?”
    The kid seemed so downhearted, David had to
reassure him. “Sure we will. We’ve already got some leads—”
    “No!” Leroy sprang to his feet. David tensed.
“Even if you do, my dad says the bleeding-heart liberals will make everyone
feel sorry for the ass-wipe and let him off. He ought to die for what he done
to Jay, but you watch, they won’t do nothing to him. You watch.” Leroy sniffed
and wiped his face with the sleeve of his T-shirt. “They’ll let him off. Like
they always do.”
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CHAPTER
10
    Monday,
6:35 pm, The Nosh Pit, Hyperion Avenue,
    Silver
Lake, Los Angeles
    THE NOSH PIT was jammed. The air
was thick with testosterone, poppers, and a dozen conflicting colognes. The bar
was packed two deep, the mood still jovial, without the taint of desperation
that crept in as last call approached. Ramsey was wiping down the spotless
mahogany and leather bar with a rag. He waved at Chris and pointed off to his
right.
    Des had grabbed a table along the far wall and
successfully defended a second seat, which Chris now slid into. Under a giant
poster of a