AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Greta wasn’t sure whether the cigarette or Toompas’s death had elicited the remark.
“No shit?” said Mendoza.
“How well did you know Toompas?” Harpal asked.
“Oh . . . I knew him well enough not to need to know him. Wasn’t too bad when sober but get a few shots into him or a few drags and his mouth took off.”
“We see you were involved in an altercation with him two years ago,” prompted Greta.
“An altercation?” Mendoza laughed. “I kicked the little shit’s ass. Me and Rhonda were minding our own business at the Railroad Roadhouse here in Garibaldi, and Howie starts ragging on us. When I asked him to stop, he took a swing, and I defended myself.”
Greta made a show of opening her tablet and consulting it. “Well, I see here that witnesses claim the two of you exchanged words for some time before the fight. Among the exchanges was something about you questioning his masculinity.” She looked up and casually commented, “Seems like there was a little more to it than Toompas picking on you for no reason.”
Mendoza shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “Maybe I did say a few things, but what the hell? It’s a bar, and you go there to have some drinks. It was Howie that started the serious jawin’ and threw the first punch. They didn’t charge me with anything, so why the hassle?”
“I’m sure you can understand that when there’s a murder, we have to look into everyone who might not have gotten along with the victim.”
Mendoza looked incredulous. “You think I might have killed Howie! That’s bullshit! That fight was a couple of years ago, and the few times I’ve seen him since, there’s been no problem. I gotta hand it to Howie . . . he didn’t carry no grudges. Next time we met after the fight, he acted like it never happened.”
“And those other times you were with him, what were those occasions?”
Mendoza didn’t quip back quickly this time, groping for an answer.
“Hey, Rhonda, maybe our guests would like some coffee?” he said.
Rhonda looked stunned by the question and offer, and Greta surmised that genial hospitality was not one of Mendoza’s normal characteristics.
Harpal shook his head.
“No, thanks,” said Greta, “but I appreciate the offer. Now, you were about to say how you happened to work with Toompas before and after the fight.” He hadn’t said work, but she wanted to see if that led him anywhere.
“Well . . . we didn’t usually work together, except for a couple times with some odd jobs. You know, house painting, down at the harbor cleaning up fishing boats, things like that.”
Greta held out a pen, and her tablet opened to a blank page. “I’m sure you won’t mind giving us the names of places where you worked with Toompas, along with whoever hired you. And anything you know of other altercations anyone had with Toompas as well.”
Mendoza stared at the notepad for a few moments, then reluctantly took it. Idly curious, Greta wondered when he had last cleaned his fingernails. She reflexively snuck a peek at Rhonda, musing on what kind of woman would allow those hands on her. The image and the creepy feeling made her force the thought away.
“You don’t really think Nat killed Howie, do you?” Rhonda whined.
“We don’t think anything as yet. We’re just looking into facts and trying to sort things out. Naturally, we appreciate the help any honest citizen can give. The more help you can give us, the less likely it is that we’ll have to come back again.”
“Well, shit, Nat. You’re not the only one Howie pissed off over the years. Tell ’em about the others.”
Mendoza gave Rhonda a dirty look, then glanced down at the notepad. “Like she says, Howie had a knack for acting like a dumb ass. Not all the time, mind you, but regular ’nough a lot of people didn’t want to work too much with him.”
Mendoza spoke the last words firmly and looked Greta straight in the face.
Greta mentally translated this as, I think he’s telling me that Howie didn’t make anyone’s top ten list of favored accomplices for activities of questionable legality.
Greta smiled back. “I don’t think we’re interested right now in details of that other work, but as I said, if you could suggest people and jobs where Toompas might have irritated others, we would appreciate it. Then we might not have to come back and bother you again.”
Her reasonable tone didn’t assuage Mendoza’s dubious expression.
“I wouldn’t want people to think I accused them of anything. You know . . . it’s not good to get someone else in trouble.”
“Oh, I understand, and I appreciate your concern. This is only for us to compile a list of people to talk to. There’ll be no spreading about how we got the names on the list.”
Mendoza frowned, turned to the notepad, and started writing. He filled up most of a page with names, maybe ten to twelve from her upside-down view. A few had towns after the names.
