As I stood on my tiptoes to get a better look, a deep, gravelly voice that sounded vaguely familiar drew my attention.
“How long you gonna keep me here? You know, I got work to do, just like you guys.”
On the far side of the taped-off circle, I saw a big guy wearing a black bandanna around his head Hulk Hogan-style. Even from twenty feet away, I recognized Dominic Rostoni, highly successful custom motorcycle dealer and white supremacist gang leader. Bailey and I had run into him on our last case, and I knew he lived just off Mulholland in Calabasas-not all that far from this place. This mountain was probably a great ride for bikers.
Bailey was conferring with the officer who made the first response. I tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to Dominic.
“What’re the odds?” she asked.
“Pretty good, when you think about it.”
Bailey did, for about a second, then nodded. We made our way over to his side of the crime scene.
“Hey, Dominic,” I said. “Long time no see.” I didn’t offer to shake hands.
He looked up with a frown, then his expression cleared. “Yeah, I remember you. Hey, can you tell these guys to let me go? You know where to find me.”
“You found the body?” I replied.
“Yeah. Came up for a smoke.”
I further assumed he didn’t mean cigarettes. Just the thought of navigating these roads on a motorcycle while high on…anything, gave me vertigo.
“You touch anything?” I asked.
He looked offended. “What you take me for? An idiot?”
The true answer was “Yes, you neo-Nazi asshole.” But sometimes the truth does not set you free. I did believe he was smart enough not to mess with a dead body unless he was the reason it was in that condition. And, obviously, he must’ve called the cops as soon as he found it, because I doubted they’d be doing routine patrol here in this weather.
“What were you really doing out here, Dominic?”
“Really, I was just out for a ride.”
“Right after a storm like this.” I raised an eyebrow.
Dominic sighed and looked away for a moment. “Wife and I had a fight. I needed some cooling-off time. Soon as the rain stopped, I went out for a ride. Didn’t expect to wind up here, tell you the truth…”
“And you called the cops?”
He nodded and glanced toward the mound of dirt. “Poor kid. Got one of my own, you know.”
I didn’t know. And I wasn’t thrilled to hear that these cretins procreated. I restrained the impulse to ask what his kid was doing with his life. I didn’t want to hear he’d joined the “club.”
