Free Dead Ringer by Ken Douglas Page A

and how the men under the pier had frightened them away.
    “ Big black man, the other crazy looking, dirty beard out to here?” Jonas held his open hands about half a foot from each side of his face. “Looks like Rasputin, starved and wild-eyed?”
    “ That’s them.”
    “ Darley and Theo.”
    “ Yeah, that’s their names.”
    “ You’re lucky you got away from that pair in one piece.”
    “ They were plenty scary, but they didn’t threaten me in the least, in fact they escorted me back to where I’d left my shoes.”
    “ Well, it sounds like an out of the frying pan and into the fire kind of story to me,” Gordon said.
    “ I don’t think they’re dangerous.”
    “ That’s why you came straight here instead of going home,” Jonas said. “Because you feel safe and secure?”
    “ I’ll bet there’s a story behind those guys, something Nick could use.”
    “ Don’t even think about it,” Gordon said.
    “ Why not? They could be a great story. Two men who roam the back alleys of Belmont Shore by day, living on what John Q. Public tosses in the trash, sleeping under the pier in the cold and damp by night. If he did it right, it’d be a great human interest piece. He could trace their lives, show how they got to be where they are. It could really tug at the heart strings.”
    “ It is the kind of stuff he likes to do,” Gordon admitted.
    “ What if one of them had been successful, then gone bankrupt?” Maggie sighed. “What if one of them was a vet? What if one was laid off after twenty years on the job? The homeless are everywhere now. Nobody notices them anymore. They’ve become part of the background, the same as a lamp post or a tree. If Nick did a story on them, it could help change all that. Really wake Southern California up.”
    “ I don’t think they want to wake up,” Jonas said.
    “ I think he’s right,” Gordon said. “Nobody wants to know about the homeless.”
    “ Your friends are calling,” Jonas said.
    Gordon turned. One of the young men in front of the chess set was waving. “Gotta make my move.” Gordon started for the back of the bar and the chess game.
    “ That’ll take him about a second,” Jonas said.
    “ He’s really good,” Maggie said. “I won’t play him anymore.”
    “ The best this bar’s ever seen. It’s good to have him back at the game again. In the old days, before Ricky passed away, people came from all over to play him. He was great for business.” Jonas picked up a wet rag and wiped the counter.
    “ So, you think I should be afraid of those characters under the pier?” Maggie picked up her drink, finished it.
    “ Absolutely. I’m a big man. I used to box in Sweden, trained for the Olympics. Not much scares me, but I’m afraid of them.” Maggie took in his broad shoulders, the rippling biceps the long sleeved shirt couldn’t conceal. He was in great shape, despite his age.
    “ Maybe you’re right.” She watched as Gordon picked up a piece, moved it, then started back for the bar. He didn’t even sit, spent less than a minute looking at the board.
    “ What’d I miss?”
    “ I convinced your girlfriend to stay away from Darley and Theo,” Jonas said.
    “ That calls for another drink.” Gordon smiled at Maggie, but he had a warning look in his eyes as he reached for his wallet. She knew the look, he was telling her to be careful.
    “ No, sir. Your money’s no good tonight,” Jonas said and he set them up with another round. “I’m gonna have one, too.” He poured a draft Coors for himself. “Here’s to ya, Harvey.” He raised his class to one of the giant photos on the wall, then took a long pull.
    “ Harvey who?” Maggie stared at the picture.
    “ Harvey Milk,” Gordon said. “He was assassinated.”
    “ What’d he do?”
    “ I can’t believe it,” Jonas said. “All the times you’ve been in here and we never talked about Harvey Milk. I toast him every time I take a drink.”
    “ I’ve never seen you