Ding Dong Dead

30

Nacho has heard the man’s sob story and isn’t at all moved by it. They’d spent the night inside a shed, down a dead-end alley. He isn’t about to show a stranger into the home he’s created under the viaduct. He built it himself out of plastic and duct tape. Gray to match the girders. Only his real friends know about his place, and he’s keeping it that way.

He’s not dumb.

This Andy has money in his pocket but doesn’t have a bit of street smarts, waving the roll of bills around like he wants somebody to take it away from him. If Nacho hangs with this guy too long, he’ll worry about his own future health.

What he’ll do for his friends. And Caroline is one of the best.

Andy bought him a nice bottle, a token of his gratitude, and that counts for a lot. You don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Nacho’s getting married to the love of his life and has promised Daisy that he will dry out. Soon. He’ll do it soon. She’s promised to help him beat his demons, and he’ll do anything for her. Right now though, he’s drunk on gold-label whiskey. Johnnie Walker. Eighteen-year-old blended to be exact. He knows his liquor.

Andy’s a talker, which suits Nacho. He’s observing instead of participating, which is his style. Sit back, stay alert, absorb. All night, he tipped back, wetting his lips, savoring the amber liquid, watching it swirl like the gold it’s named after.

Otherwise he would have been bored out of his skull, having to listen to how this guy’s wife had left him and he’d been trying to get her back. How they came to Phoenix thinking the trip away from LA would be good for them, and how it wasn’t.

How she had told him right before she was killed that it wasn’t going to work after all.

Andy was just as drunk as Nacho, even more, slurring his words, nodding off, waking up, and continuing his boohoo story.

They all had it rough. Why should this guy’s problems be any worse? All kinds of people have wandered through Nacho’s life. Every one of them thinks they are worse off than the next guy. Like it’s a big competition and being the biggest loser is some kind of win.

This blurry Saturday morning, his guest is sleeping off one big-mama hangover, while Nacho is out and about, still drunk but searching for someone.

The word’s out to the other street people, along with a description of the person he wants to find: a skinny doper who works for anybody who’ll hire him, no name, as in NoName. That’s what they call him. Has a red pentagram tattoo on his neck, the five-pointed star inverted to point down, surrounded by a black circle.

This particular person doesn’t mean anything to Nacho, but Daisy has put in a request. Gretchen and Caroline are in need of assistance. Anything he can do, he will.

Time to find the guy who shouldn’t have been in the cemetery the night of the murder.