Compulsion

“Lots of coyotes, that’s why I got scared, sir. I seen what they done to the chickens.”

“Tony was complaining about…”

“What I said, sir. Le monee. He used to live in a nice place then his back discus made him all messed up and his mama wasn’t helping him no more, called him a bum.”

“He said all that to the other wannaboo?”

“I heard the word ‘money’ before I sat down. That word always gets my ears unfolded. When we were walking he got into his mama mistreating him. Said she pulled the rug out, he was the only child, why would she do that.”

“Angry?”

“More like sad. Depressed, even. I said you should try the Prozac or something. He didn’t answer.”

“When he complained to the wannaboo, did the wannaboo seem to be listening?”

“I guess… yeah, he was looking straight at Tony, nodding like I hear you, bro. Then all of a sudden he gets up, like he heard enough.”

“Bored?”

“No, no, more like… like it was too sad.”

“Describe the wannaboo?”

“Bigger than Tony. Not as big as you, sir.”

“Heavyset?”

“Hard to tell with those clothes. I’m talking tweed and it was warm. Like… like… one a those movie gramma things, Gramma’s a cold Waspy bitch? Stockings with seams up the middle.”

“How old?”

“He was trying for biddy, all that makeup, the gray wig. Coulda been thirty, coulda been fifty. Lots of them do that, make like Come to Gramma. Like comfort food, you know? If having a gramma who don’t shave her legs and got a face like a toilet lid gives you comfort – where are we, never been this far.”

We’d traveled two miles east of her stroll.

As we approached Rodney, Milo said, “Pard, why don’t you turn?”

I drove by Tony Mancusi’s building. Milo watched Tasha’s face. Tasha appeared to be sleeping.

Hooking a left on Sunset, I said, “It’s kind of interesting, Tasha. Tony complains about his mother to a guy trying to look like a mother.”

“Hey,” said Tasha. “I didn’t think a that.”

Milo said, “What’s this guy’s name?”

“If I knew I’d tell you, sir, I truly would.”

“Big, thirty to fifty. Give me more details.”

“Ugly, sir. Puffy face, the red shiny nose like he’s been drinking all day and all night… um um um… glasses. Pink plastic glasses. With the rhinestones. Biddy glasses – oh, yeah, natural nail polish.”

“Eye color?”

“Don’t know, sir. That long ago, all I really can remember is the ugly. Working at it, you know? Gray wig like a dishcloth, tweed two-piece, all baggy and heavy – green velvet trim.” Retching sound. “Shoes you could step in mud no one’s gonna notice. Like a scarf’s gonna fix all that?”

“He wore a scarf,” said Milo.

“Only pretty part of the whole on-sombel,” said Tasha. “Purpley, gor-juss. Louie Vee-town. What a waste.”

As I continued through East Hollywood, into Silver Lake and Echo Park, Milo pressed for more details on Tony Mancusi’s confidant, got nothing. The lights of downtown came into view.

Tasha yawned.

Milo said, “Here’s a picture of a guy we know.”

“Hairy bear,” said Tasha.

“Could he be the wannaboo?”

“Take a clippers to him, maybe I could tell you.”

“Try to look past the hair.”

“Sorry, sir, I want to be honest. Too much coiffure.”

“Did you get a sense Tony and Tweed knew each other before the party?”

“Tweed, heh, yeah that should be his name. Never saw him or Tony before, never saw him after. Never went to another party up there. Because my sweet old lawyer told me not to. Wanted me all to himself when he’s in town. Backed it up with le money. Still does.”

“But you still have time for Tony.”

“Too much free time’s a bad thing, sir. Nothing’s for free.”

“What gets Tony off?”

“Being sorry.”

“For himself?”

“That, too, sir, but I was talking apologies.”

“For what?”

“Everything,” said Tasha. “Taking up my time. Comes in wanting what he wants and then after he gets it, he’s all Prozacky frowny-frown, says he shouldn’t be doing it, he’s really not like that.”

“Denying he’s gay.”

“Tony’s mind, he’s never gay. You call him that, he gets cranky. He figures he likes me ’cause I’m a girl, he only likes girls. A lot of them are like that. Want to have it and eat it, too.” Laughter.

“How often does he see you?”

“Most often was once a month, sir. Then it stopped. Tonight was the first time in like… three months? Could I go back? Please? I don’t know this part of town, don’t like being where I don’t know.”

Milo said, “Sure.”

I found a driveway, did a turnaround.

“Thank you, sir. Can I have my little helper back?”

“Don’t push it,” said Milo. “So Tony’s conflicted.”

“Call it what you want, sir. Before they get what they want, they’re all hungry. Then it’s over slam bam wham and it’s like a light’s shining deep inside them and they’re seeing something they don’t like. A first-timer, you never know how they’re gonna deal with that light. That’s why I need my helper.”

“Pretending only goes so far,” said Milo.

“There’s your Fantasyland. Tony really a badman?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“The wannaboo is a badman? You asking all those questions about him.”

“Just collecting information, Tasha.”

“Someone got killed? I’m on the street, I need to know, sir.”

“Tony’s mom.”

“No! I noticed Tony was a little edged off tonight. But he didn’t say nothing.”

“Edged off how?”

“Looking around like enemies everywhere. Parking in a place no problem before then getting all paranoid it’s too easy to see and moving to another place and he’s still edged off. He coulda done that? To his mama?”

“What do you think?”

“I mean… I’m speechless, sir.”

“His mother gets murdered, he never mentions it,” said Milo.

“Nothing,” said Tasha. “Edged off like I said, but then just the usual.”

“Meaning?”

“Boom boom boom. Then getting all quiet. Then the apologies.”