"Who's this guy, Lenny Asher?" asks Deb. "Lenny?" says Angel. "He's a nut-job." "But it says he lived next door to Rodrigo, and filed all kinds of complaints," Deb notes. Angel says that the guy files a complaint a day, essentially, and that it's hard to consider him a credible witness: "He'd just sit at his window all day, and call us every time somebody moved. He called us once to say there was something weird about the clouds." Heh. "Still, no harm talking to him, right?" says Deb, her hand reaching for the phone.
A door opens a crack to reveal Deb and Angel, and I'm assuming we're at Lenny's house now. "Who the hell are you?" asks Lenny. Angel introduces himself, and Deb, holding up her badge, and asks if they can come in for a couple of questions. Lenny opens up, revealing a kitchen filled with cardboard boxes. Nice packrat. God, I hope I never end up like this guy. "Who's dead?" Lenny asks, and Angel tells him that they're there about Rodrigo. "I know," says Lenny. "They found him in the ocean. I hope a whale ate him and shat him out and then ate him again." You know, that's how I feel about Lila. Thanks for articulating that so well, Mr. Asher. "You weren't too close to him, were you?" asks Deb. "He was scum," says Lenny as he walks over to his window. Angel reminds him about his numerous calls to police when Rodrigo still lived next door. "He was a drug dealer!" says Lenny. "He played loud music, urinated on my lilies." Angel: "You actually saw that?" "They were dead, that's all I needed to know," sniffs Lenny. Deb asks whether Lenny has any thoughts on who killed him, and he replies, "How the hell should I know?" He goes back to the window and bitches about the car parked right in front of the fire hydrant. Deb tells him it's their cruiser, and Lenny puts away the notepad he procured from his pants to write down the license number. "You take a lot of notes?" asks Angel. "Anything hinky happens outside this window, I make a note of it," says Lenny. "How long you been doin' that?" asks Deb. "Since someone stuck a nail in my tire, March, 1998," Lenny replies. Deb says that Rodrigo was last seen after his trial in April 2002, and wonders whether Lenny took any notes that day. "If something happened, I did," says Lenny. Angel asks whether he keeps his notes, and Lenny proudly motions to the boxes populating the kitchen: "Here, 2002." "What kind of order did you keep them in?" asks Angel. "I told you, 2002," says Lenny. Heh, have fun sorting that shit out, Detective. Sucker!