I can tell right away I’m going to hate Red. He’s of the seat belt wearing, minivan to church, middle class, always play it safe crowd. No way did this guy get close enough to see anything useful. I gave up gambling, the vices got stacked a little too high, but if I was in a betting mood, I’d say this guy saw nothing. It’s hard to see when you’re cowering behind drapes.
I have more tolerance for the company of lowlifes than I do for the gutless asswipes like Red. He’s all yes sir, no sir with his answers, giving me his best by-the-book citizen demeanor. You can see his sense of worth inflate with every response. I can’t stand it. There’s not an ounce of man in this potato.
My hunch is right. His story is equal parts pathetic and unhelpful. He heard a loud noise, maybe some arguing, he couldn’t make it out clearly, and wasn’t about to venture outside. He’s got a family to look out for ya know? Better the nuclear dream than a spine, I guess. He did see something though, a big shadow. Extra emphasis on the big. Gives me pause. The traumatized kid was telling the truth. Well, a traumatized version of it anyway.
I ask him if he’s got anything else for me. Anything at all. He tells me he heard a kid crying. I fight the urge to sock him in the jaw. The coward probably could have stopped the whole thing. Could have saved little Peewee a life of flashbacks. But he did nothing. Protecting his family. I spit out a quick thanks and walk away, leaving the jackass to preen in his hallucinatory helpfulness. He’ll never understand how truly worthless he is.
I ask a uniform who the last witness is. Fuck. The honorable Yukon Gold awaits my questioning. And here I thought I’d already dealt with the biggest asshole of the day…