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Right after I got home, my cell phone rang. I tensed for a moment, but then was very relieved – and happy – to see that it was Daniel. "Laila, I’m just wondering if you've had any more prank calls," he said.
"Yeah. There were a few more the night that we ate lunch in the park. I told Chief Hayes about them, but he told me it would be virtually impossible to trace who it was."
"That's true," he agreed. "Hey, how about if we hang out at my place tonight and I'll make something for dinner?"
"Works for me. That'd be great." Cooking wasn’t my forte like Daniel’s. He could always put together a meal in amazing ways when we ate at his place.
# # #
Thor and I arrived at Daniel’s place and were greeted by the aroma of Mexican food. "I threw a salad together to go with them," he said. "I made homemade tacos. I think you’ll like them."
"Sounds great and smells fantastic."
Daniel handed two salads to me and I put them on the table with the platter of tacos he made. He set down two dog food bowls in the corner of the kitchen, and Benji Junior and Thor ran right over to them. All four of us settled in quite happily to enjoy our food.
Daniel turned to me. "Have you found out anything new about what happened to Homeless John?"
I looked at him, and felt gratified. He was trying to accommodate me by showing an interest. "No. Nothing new about John. But did you know that another homeless man was found dead?"
Daniel nodded. "I heard. The call came in last night right as I ended my shift. I didn’t get any details, but it sounded like it happened in the bad part of downtown."
Was now the right time to be honest with Daniel? I took a deep breath and jumped in.
"His name was Ricky Thomas," I said. "Somebody down there identified the body when the cops found him."
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I waited. Daniel didn’t ask how I knew this, but I felt compelled to explain. "I read it in the paper this morning."
When our eyes met, I knew he had questions he didn’t want to ask."
"Daniel, these tacos are so good. I wish I could learn to cook like you." I tried to change the subject back to food.
"Glad you like them. You could do these, Laila. There's not much to them, but they're really good. I’ll put some coffee on," he said. "When we're done, we can take the dogs out for a short walk and then spend some time together."
We walked the dogs a couple of blocks and then went back to Daniel’s to enjoy our after-dinner coffee. I started to clean up the table while he served the coffee. "Just rinse everything off and put it in the sink," he said. "I can wash dishes later."
We sat down on the couch in the living room. I wanted to discuss Ricky Thomas with Daniel, but still hesitated.
"I have some information you might be interested in," said Daniel. "I found out the name of the DEA agent that you’ve been wondering about."
That got my attention. "Who is he?"
"His name is John Collins. He's obsessed with cleaning up the downtown area and getting rid of the drug trade there. It's as though he's made that his mission in life."
"Wow. That explains a few things." I thought about this. It certainly explained why Licorice Billy and Ricky Thomas had laughed so scornfully at me when I thought my homeless friend’s last name was Collins. He thought I meant John Collins the DEA man, when I was really talking about Homeless John.
"I see the wheels turning in your head, Laila. What is it?"
I realized that I was in too deep at this point. There was no alternative except to explain why the man I'd thought was "John Collins" was in reality John Wilkins – better known to us as Homeless John.
Daniel listened intently as I talked. I saw flashes of both anger and real concern as I told him the story. I decided it was all or nothing as I plunged ahead and told him about my experiences, though I did avoid telling Daniel exactly how many times I'd been to Skid Row.
"So – you actually met Ricky Thomas?" he asked. I nodded. To my surprise, he smiled, though it was a little wryly. "I don’t know why I try to tell you to be careful about all this, Laila. But please don’t tell me you're going to get mixed up in Ricky's death now, too. He was a drug dealer. That explains why he died of an overdose. What more do you need to know?"
"Well – " I took a deep breath and braced myself. "Do you think you could get the autopsy report on Ricky Thomas for me?"
He just stared at me in disbelief. I was afraid he was going to kick me out of his apartment, but he just shook his head instead. "I don't know why I'm doing this," he said. "Maybe your curiosity's getting to me, too." He sighed with a wry smile. "I'll get the reports for you."
