“I haven’t seen them in years, but sure, if you want to come inside for a drink, then by all means.” He stepped aside and swept his hand through the air as if she were royalty, giving her room to enter.
The unmistakable scent of mold, along with cigarettes and stale beer, hit her all at once. She tried not to gag as he pulled out a plastic lawn chair for her to take a seat.
“Want a beer?”
“No, thanks.”
He shrugged a bony shoulder, grabbed a beer for himself, and popped the tab. The amber liquid bubbled over the top of the can despite his best effort to quickly suck it up. The kitchen was small. Dirty dishes were piled high in the sink, threatening to topple.
Before taking a seat, he locked the door, sealing the place off from what meager bit of light and fresh air the opening had provided. When he saw her watching him, he said, “People come and go around here, in and out, as if they lived here. Better to keep this private.”
She didn’t trust him, kept her eyes on him as he pulled out another plastic chair and sat across from her.
“So what do you want to know?” he asked.
“Are you aware that Nick Calderon and Bruce Ward were murdered?”
“Heard about Nick,” he said without emotion. “What happened to Bruce?”
“He’s dead, and it appears the killer went out of their way to make it look like a suicide. It should be a day or two before investigators have autopsy and toxicology reports.”
“They think he was poisoned?”
“It’s a possibility.” She decided to keep what she knew about the fentanyl found in Nick Calderon’s system to herself.
“I was told that security cameras showed someone leaving his house.”
“That’s true,” she said.
“So why are you here? It wasn’t me.”
His mannerism and defensive attitude bothered her, like a finger poking her in the ribs, telling her to say what she had to say and get out. “Nick Calderon engages a lot on social media, and there are quite a few pictures of you, Nick, and Bruce posted on Nick’s Facebook page—”
“Okay, so we’ve hung out a few times. What about it?”
“Is there any reason you can think of that someone might want to kill two of your closest friends?”
He chuckled, then chugged his beer, finishing it off in a couple of long gulps. “I have no friends.”
The thought that Felix might have killed Nick and Bruce floated through her head. But why? What would be his motivation? “Doesn’t it worry you that whoever went after Nick and Bruce might come after you?”
This time he guffawed as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard in his life. He even slapped his bare knee that stuck out of a giant gaping hole in his jeans. Then he stood, and she watched him closely as he walked through the narrow kitchen and disappeared into a back room. When he returned, he was holding a machete with a sweeping curved steel blade that glinted in the semidarkness.
Sawyer’s pulse quickened. She jumped to her feet and whipped out her pepper spray. Held it straight in front of her, thumb on the button.
That same throaty chuckle erupted. “Put that skunk spray away, darling. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You first,” she said.
He held the machete in front of him. “It’s a beauty, isn’t it? It’s a kukri. Almost fourteen inches of razor-sharp slicing power. If anyone comes to see me, I’ll show them this.” After admiring his weapon a moment longer, he finally set it on the one clean space left on the counter opposite the sink area.
Sawyer glanced at the door and wondered how fast she could unlock the bolt. How far she would get before he caught up to her with that blade of his.
He opened the refrigerator and popped open another beer.
A rodent, smaller than the rat outside, skittered across the floor and quickly squeezed its way under the stove, sending a shiver up her spine. She put the pepper spray away.
Felix returned to the plastic chair and took a seat.
“You want to know what I find amusing?”
“What?”
“The fact that you have gone out of your way to come see me.” He raised his beer. “Look at you, sitting there all soft and sweet, warning me that my life might be in danger.” He feigned a shiver and laughed some more. “That’s funny shit.”
“It’s not a joke.”
“Nobody ever gave one fuck about me or the boys. But here you are, telling me to be careful, and what? Stay alert to any unusual noises?”
Before she could ask him who “the boys” included, he started talking again.
“Nobody,” he said flatly, his fist hitting the table hard, making her jump, all the laughter gone from his voice. “Nobody checked to see if they were feeding us properly at that facility. Did anybody care that we were malnourished and sleeping in rat-infested beds?” This time when he stood, he placed both hands flat on the table so that he could keep his balance. He then leaned so far over the table that he was right up in her face.
Sawyer sucked in a breath and held it. The man was crazy.
“Did anyone give a rat’s ass about any of us?” He shook his head, then pushed away from the table and plopped back down into his chair.
Sawyer inhaled.
He took another long swig of beer before he said, “Now that I think about it, there were a few kids who might have wanted to see Nick and Bruce dead. But why wait all these years?”
Sawyer perked up a little. “Do you remember their names?”
“Nah. We gave them all special nicknames.”
“Boys or girls?”
“Both.”
“Would any of them have reason to come after you?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Let them come.”
“What about Emily Stiller, Jimmy Crocket, or Stanley Higgins?”
“Ahh, is that her name? Emily. She was a bitch, but I liked her spirit.” He nodded as if agreeing with his own statement. “I could see her making the rounds. Yeah. I can see that.” He looked over his shoulder at his machete. “If she comes here, though, I’ll be ready.”
“What about Jimmy Crocket or Stanley Higgins? Could they be a threat?”
He chuckled. “Jiminy Cricket was a beanpole, and Stupid Stanley peed in his pants if you looked at him cross-eyed.” Felix looked blankly at the wall as if he might be reliving a few moments from his past. “Stupid Stanley thought if he stayed quiet enough, people would leave him alone. But that’s not how it worked at the home.”
“Do you have any regrets about that time in your life?”
“No way. We were kids. Kids do crazy shit.”
Sawyer saw it differently. Adults did crazy shit to kids, but she wasn’t here to have a debate. “Do you remember the names of any of the adults who were in charge at the time?”
Instead of looking at the wall, he looked upward this time and then shook his head.
“What about the others in your club? Could you give me their names?”
“Don’t waste your time, sweetie.”
“It’s my job. It’s what I do.”
“Well, I can’t help you there.”
“Because you don’t recall their names?”