A bead of blood popped out on Markey’s finger. He licked it off and raised his gaze to meet Rivero’s. All expression had leached out of his eyes. “You don’t know anything about me.”
Rivero started to laugh, then abruptly backed off. He snorted and shook his head. “Whatever.”
“What about the two of you?” I asked. “You feminists?”
“I love my mama and sister,” Rivero said. “That count?”
I looked at the other man. “Markey?”
His lips curled up in a parody of a smile. “I believe in equality of the sexes.”
Uh-huh.
A moment’s silence, then Rivero said, “Noah was into anyone who needs a white savior.”
I watched his face. “You didn’t approve of his causes?”
“I like what Noah stood for. I hate that sometimes it’s necessary.”
I took out the photo of the Superior Gentlemen and placed it on the table next to the drawing. “You ever meet any of these men?”
“Just Noah,” Rivero said.
Markey said, “Right.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t recognize any of the others?”
“Looks like a party, maybe,” Markey said.
I turned the photo over and showed them the back. “Noah ever mention the Superior Gentlemen?”
The two men exchanged a quick glance, then they both said no.
I leaned in. “You two know it’s a crime to impede an investigation by lying or providing false information, right?”
“It’s probably a crime to make shit up, too,” Rivero said. “I don’t know those guys.”
Markey nodded. “Me neither.”
I wondered if it was time to separate them, interview them one on one. But there was no guarantee that whoever I left alone would still be waiting when I got back.
“You ever know Noah to be into anything questionable? Drugs? Prostitution?”
Rivero snorted. “Are you kidding me?”
Markey looked bruised. “No way.”
“What about gutter punks?” I said. “Noah ever mention them?”
“Those kids who ride the trains?” Rivero said. “He was doing something with them. Some SJW idea he had for a graphic novel.”
Markey shrugged.
“He mention any names?”
Another simultaneous headshake.
“Did Noah seem different lately? Upset about anything?”
“I didn’t notice anything,” Markey said.
The dark gleam left Rivero’s eyes. “He was happy.”
That threw me. “What?”
“He was happy about something.”
“He tell you that?”
“Nah. He was just smiling all the time. Like a guy with a big check in his back pocket.”
“He’d come into money?”
“Nah,” Rivero said. “I don’t mean like that. I’m speaking in metaphors. A metaphor is when—”
“He was happy, not scared?”
Rivero’s expression softened, his gaze turned inward. “Maybe he was scared, in some weird way. Maybe some people are happiest when they’re fighting the good fight.”
“You think that’s what he was doing? Fighting the good fight?”
Rivero laid his gaze on me. His eyes were sharp again. “I’d really like to think that. That Noah went down for something he believed in.”
There was one thing Rivero and I had in common.
“Or maybe,” Rivero said, “he was scared ’cause he had something to lose.”
I leaned over to pick up the photo and the drawing. Before Markey could protest, I whipped off the concealing paper to see what he’d been working on when Clyde and I entered the room.
Cherubic Markey had sketched a naked woman kneeling in front of an equally naked man. The man looked victorious. The woman—at least from what I could see of her face—looked terrified.
In the background stood another woman. Watching.
“Nice, Markey,” I said. “You always draw shit like this?”
Markey’s face was so red I could have warmed my hands on it.
“It pays, you know?” he said. “It pays. That’s the only reason I’m doing it. Until I get a regular job.”
“Noah teach you how to draw like that?”
“He did it, too. What’s the big deal? It’s just sex. If things were fair, then sex would be something you could, I don’t know, get in bulk at Costco.”
Rivero threw back his head and roared. “Oh, Markey boy, that’s priceless.” His stomach shook. “Give me two bags of Doritos, pack of Marlboros, and a six-pack of missionary. Oh, and I’ll take some anal, too. Wait, you say there’s a special on your ball-buster? Perfect! Gimme that.”
Markey sat back in his chair, looking more stunned than angry. A sheen of tears made his eyes large.
Rivero took pity on him. “It’s just geek porn,” he said to me. “Self-indulgent shit for shih tzus.”
But Markey lost whatever control he’d been clinging to. “I don’t know—I don’t know how I’m gonna be okay without Noah.” A gulping suck of air. “Noah had contacts. He promised he’d help me. My career . . .”
Rivero rolled his eyes. “Suck it up, pasty boy. Start tutoring a few more coeds.”
“Fuck you,” Markey said without energy.
I gave them my business card, told them I’d be in touch again, and left. I eased the door shut, then waited outside for a few minutes, listening.
“You are such a dweeb,” Rivero said. “Noah’s dead, and all you can think about is your fucking career.”
“What career?” Markey muttered.
“The last of the SJWs.” Melancholy shifted Rivero’s voice into softness.
“He maybe died for what he believed,” Markey said. “That’s something, isn’t it?”
“That’s just shit, man.” The hardness was back. “Noah’s dead. Deceased, cold on a slab, cadaverous. The animator is rendered inanimate.”
A long pause.
“His last fucking panel, man,” Rivero said. “Nothing’s worth that.”
CHAPTER 13
Hey, Golden Girl. Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.
—Len Bandoni. Private conversation.
My phone buzzed just as Clyde and I reached the Tahoe. A text from Candy at the cleaning company, telling me the manager could see me any time this afternoon.
I responded that I’d be there in an hour. Candy sent a thumbs-up emoji.
I considered offering my own thumbs-up in response, just to be annoying. Then I reminded myself that I was a public servant with the reputation of the Denver PD riding on my shoulders. I sent a smiley-face instead.
When Candy shot me a pink heart, I bailed.
One hour. The investigation was the priority. But my partner needed to stretch his legs. And I had to hit a drive-through before my stomach crawled into my throat and begged for a handout.
The day
