His smile dimmed. “You’re talking about Felix. How’s he doing?”

“Not that well. He died a little while ago.”

He held up a hand. “Hold it. Before you get into your spiel, I know what you want and I can’t help. Those goons kicked the shit out of him and I’m sorry he died, but I’m not going to go down to the station to look at mug shots. I know who they are. I see ’em down here all the time. What’s it to you?”

“I didn’t know Felix well, but I feel bad.”

“Me, too. Who wouldn’t? He was a good kid, but that doesn’t change the facts. I’m sick to death of the homeless population. If they’re not hitting up the tourists for change, they’re passed out between buildings or parked on public benches, talking to themselves. I don’t begrudge a guy a place to sleep. What gets my goat is every night I got someone peeing on my front step. It smells like a urinal out there. I got some gal takes a dump out by my fence every single night. What kind of person does that?”

“Maybe she’s mentally ill.”

“Then maybe she should be put away somewhere. Worst thing ever happened was Reagan closing down all the loony bins back in the seventies—”

I cut him off. “Let’s not get into the politics, okay? I understand your complaints, but I’m not here to debate. I’d like to talk about Felix, not the rest of this stuff.”

“Point taken. The kid was never disrespectful, so I don’t mean to tar him with the same brush. Homeless in general, I got no beef with as long as they lay off what’s mine. Town’s filled with weepy-minded liberals—”

“Hey!”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to go off again,” he said. “Comes down to identifying the assholes who throttled him, I got nothing to say. That big goon gets picked up, what’s the system gonna do with him? Run him through the courts and spit him out the other end.”

“But why should those guys get away with murder?” I asked. “Homeless or not, those are bad men.”