“We don’t know enough to say anything, yet. Was Ricky discriminating in his choices?”
“Was he a racist?” said Briggs. “No way, equal opportunity, he liked ’em all.”
I said, “Not picky.”
“About what? Looks? That depended on his HL.” Small smile. “Horniness level. Murdered? Jesus. Where did it happen?”
“Up near Benedict Canyon. You guys ever go up there?”
“We?” said Briggs. “We didn’t go places together anymore, we just roomed.”
“Anymore?”
“We knew each other in high school. I b-balled and ran the mile and Ricky covered sports for the paper.”
“Which high school?”
“Fontana High. We weren’t like tight bros but then we met up a couple years ago, bar at the beach—The Hungry Croc, now it’s called something else—had a few beers and started to conversate. I had just moved back from Tucson, had been looking for a place. Ricky said he had a two-bedroom near the beach, would never let go of it ’cause of the rent control but he didn’t need the second bedroom, I could have it cheap.”
Briggs sighed. “It’s been working out fine, he works days, I work nights. That’s what I mean by not talking much.”
He flexed big hands. “Oh, shit. I can’t handle the rent myself.”
“What do you do nights, Jay?”
“Take care of an old guy. Professor Van Ness, he’s like a hundred, can’t move but his brain’s still okay. I take care of him at night, mostly he sleeps so I can, too. Sometimes I have to change a diaper but it’s cool. I like helping people, used to assistant-coach middle school b-ball in Tucson, then the school, it was a private school, Christian school, had money problems so I decided to come back.”
“Ricky was a lawyer at Sony.”
“Um, not exactly,” said Briggs. “He went to some law school but didn’t pass the bar. To be honest, he was more of a paralegal.”
“Ah,” said Milo.
“He was pretty smart,” said Briggs, sounding uncertain. “Said he didn’t want the hassle of being a lawyer, the main thing was to make enough bank and have free time to party.”
Our eyes swept over the mess on the coffee table.
Briggs said, “That’s on me, Ricky was kind of a neat freak.”
I said, “When were you expecting him back?”
“When he didn’t come up Friday, I figured Saturday. When he didn’t come up Saturday, I figured maybe tonight. But there was no way to tell.”
Milo said, “Did Ricky know a guy named Benson Alvarez?”
“Uh-uh, who’s he? Some Mexican gangster?”
“Did Ricky do any charity work?”
“Like what?” said Briggs, as if the concept was absurd.
“Volunteering his time, helping the homeless, people with disabilities, stuff like that?”
Slow head shake. “Only thing I know is he gave twenty bucks to United Way at the office. Asked me if I wanted to also. I said when I have more, I will, dude. Ricky was cool with that. Ricky was always cool.”
“So not much into volunteering.”
“Not that he told me,” said Briggs. “To be honest, Ricky had time, he’d spend it on one thing.” Shaping an hourglass in the air.
