screen door
banged and the dog growled some more.
“If you’re
selling something, go away. If you’re pushing God, piss off!”
Erin cocked an
eyebrow. “Um, I’m not selling or pushing anything. I’m looking for
Carl Leuwenoski.”
“What
for?”
Peering
through the slats of the fence revealed an untamed garden, a pair
of hairy legs halfway down a set of stairs and a slobbering German
Shepherd poised just opposite her. The dog’s lips peeled back from
yellow teeth and it rumbled threateningly.
“I’m with a
private investigation company. I need to talk to you about an
incident in your club. Can we talk?”
Grumbling all
the way, Carl trundled down the stairs. “Back off, ya mongrel.” He
opened the gate enough to put his gut through and glare at her.
“What incident?”
“It was about
six years ago. A man, with a limp and cane, attacked a young woman,
seemingly without provocation. Do you remember it?”
Carl scratched
his three day growth and frowned in thought. He was somewhere
between fifty and eighty, with a face red from a lack of
blood-pressure medication. Steel-wool hair covered his head and
sprouted from his nose and ears. There was a faint scent of wood
smoke about him. By his knee, Godzilla stuck his nose out of the
gate and sniffed in Erin’s direction. After a moment, the dog’s
mouth opened and his tongue lolled out in a happy grin.
“Yeah, I
remember. Not an easy thing to forget.”
“Can you
describe what happened?”
“Not much more
to it than what you said. Fella gets up and starts pummelling the
girl. Really messed her up before the bouncers stopped him. I hear
the girl pressed charges and he was put away for a while. Not long
though. There were circumstances, ’parently.”
“Circumstances? What could warrant that sort of assault?”
Massive
shoulders rolling in a shrug, Carl nudged Godzilla back behind the
fence. “Dunno. I didn’t really follow it. The incident didn’t do
much good for the popularity of the pub. Business went real bad and
I had to do some fix up work pretty fast.” He scratched his gut.
“Didn’t work. Went under about eighteen months later. Had to shut
up shop. Can’t even get anyone to buy the place off me.” Eyeing her
up and down, he asked, “Wanna buy a pub?”
“Thank you,
but no. You don’t remember the man’s name? Or the girl’s?”
“Nah. The
fella was a regular for a bit before though. Had issues, I guess.
Used to come in every afternoon round five and stayed until it got
too crowded.”
Erin frowned.
“He was a regular and you didn’t know his name?”
“Paid in cash,
kept to himself. Drank scotch straight up, didn’t chat.”
“I thought
bartenders were the poor man’s therapists. If he had issues,
wouldn’t he have talked about them?”
“I didn’t run
Cheers, darl. If someone wanted to talk, fine. If they didn’t, even
better. I only say he had issues cause few people could do that
sort of drinking day after day if they weren’t trying to fill some
sort of hole.”
He made sense.
“Remember anything that might help me ID him?”
“Not really.
Good lookin’ fella, I suppose. Nothing special about him, ’cept
that limp. And his temper.”
Erin thanked
him and said goodbye to Carl and Godzilla, who insisted on shoving
his nose in her skirt before she got out of range.
Ivan was on
the phone when she walked into the office and he waved her toward
the fax. There were several pages on the machine which she snatched
up and took into her office, leaving the door open so Ivan knew to
come in when he was done with the call.
The top page
was a hand-written note from Gavin. He apologised again for
upsetting her, apologised for the lack of information he’d found
and asked her and William around for dinner again. She set it aside
and settled down to read.
Gavin had
found the arresting officer’s report. It listed the loner as
Matthew Hawkins, aged twenty-six at the time of the incident. He
was arrested for
banged and the dog growled some more.
“If you’re
selling something, go away. If you’re pushing God, piss off!”
Erin cocked an
eyebrow. “Um, I’m not selling or pushing anything. I’m looking for
Carl Leuwenoski.”
“What
for?”
Peering
through the slats of the fence revealed an untamed garden, a pair
of hairy legs halfway down a set of stairs and a slobbering German
Shepherd poised just opposite her. The dog’s lips peeled back from
yellow teeth and it rumbled threateningly.
“I’m with a
private investigation company. I need to talk to you about an
incident in your club. Can we talk?”
Grumbling all
the way, Carl trundled down the stairs. “Back off, ya mongrel.” He
opened the gate enough to put his gut through and glare at her.
“What incident?”
“It was about
six years ago. A man, with a limp and cane, attacked a young woman,
seemingly without provocation. Do you remember it?”
Carl scratched
his three day growth and frowned in thought. He was somewhere
between fifty and eighty, with a face red from a lack of
blood-pressure medication. Steel-wool hair covered his head and
sprouted from his nose and ears. There was a faint scent of wood
smoke about him. By his knee, Godzilla stuck his nose out of the
gate and sniffed in Erin’s direction. After a moment, the dog’s
mouth opened and his tongue lolled out in a happy grin.
“Yeah, I
remember. Not an easy thing to forget.”
“Can you
describe what happened?”
“Not much more
to it than what you said. Fella gets up and starts pummelling the
girl. Really messed her up before the bouncers stopped him. I hear
the girl pressed charges and he was put away for a while. Not long
though. There were circumstances, ’parently.”
“Circumstances? What could warrant that sort of assault?”
Massive
shoulders rolling in a shrug, Carl nudged Godzilla back behind the
fence. “Dunno. I didn’t really follow it. The incident didn’t do
much good for the popularity of the pub. Business went real bad and
I had to do some fix up work pretty fast.” He scratched his gut.
“Didn’t work. Went under about eighteen months later. Had to shut
up shop. Can’t even get anyone to buy the place off me.” Eyeing her
up and down, he asked, “Wanna buy a pub?”
“Thank you,
but no. You don’t remember the man’s name? Or the girl’s?”
“Nah. The
fella was a regular for a bit before though. Had issues, I guess.
Used to come in every afternoon round five and stayed until it got
too crowded.”
Erin frowned.
“He was a regular and you didn’t know his name?”
“Paid in cash,
kept to himself. Drank scotch straight up, didn’t chat.”
“I thought
bartenders were the poor man’s therapists. If he had issues,
wouldn’t he have talked about them?”
“I didn’t run
Cheers, darl. If someone wanted to talk, fine. If they didn’t, even
better. I only say he had issues cause few people could do that
sort of drinking day after day if they weren’t trying to fill some
sort of hole.”
He made sense.
“Remember anything that might help me ID him?”
“Not really.
Good lookin’ fella, I suppose. Nothing special about him, ’cept
that limp. And his temper.”
Erin thanked
him and said goodbye to Carl and Godzilla, who insisted on shoving
his nose in her skirt before she got out of range.
Ivan was on
the phone when she walked into the office and he waved her toward
the fax. There were several pages on the machine which she snatched
up and took into her office, leaving the door open so Ivan knew to
come in when he was done with the call.
The top page
was a hand-written note from Gavin. He apologised again for
upsetting her, apologised for the lack of information he’d found
and asked her and William around for dinner again. She set it aside
and settled down to read.
Gavin had
found the arresting officer’s report. It listed the loner as
Matthew Hawkins, aged twenty-six at the time of the incident. He
was arrested for
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