The Diabolist (Dominic Grey 3) by Layton Green

identification.
    “I don’t care who you’re with, you let go of my goddamn dog.”
    Grey had been soothing the dog with soft words. The dog kept growling, but Grey felt the tension leave its body, and the growls lost their edge. Some dogs would never have stopped fighting, but dogs tended to mirror the personality of their owners, and this dog, like the bully who owned him, had no interest in facing off against someone who could fight back.
    Grey rose, keeping one hand wrapped around the dog’s collar. “Maybe you should think twice before loosing your animal on strangers. The gate was unlocked and we didn’t see a buzzer.”
    “Christ,” the man muttered, pulling at his beard. He had mean eyes and a gimpy left leg. “What the hell do you want? I already talked to the cops about Matty, and I don’t see a warrant in your hands. And what the hell does Interpol have to do with any of this?”
    “Douglas Oakenfeld?” Viktor said.
    The man hesitated as if he didn’t want to give his name, then realized he just had. “Just Oak.”
    “Local police answers to Interpol under international law,” Viktor said, which Grey knew was stretching the truth. Local police were obligated to heed an Interpol request for information, but Interpol itself had no jurisdiction on the ground. “I can contact SFPD and we can discuss matters in the police station, or you can answer a few questions for me right now.”
    The man’s small eyes flittered from Viktor to Grey, with the wariness of someone used to dealing with liars and criminals. “Why don’t you ask your questions, and I’ll let you know if I feel like answering them. And if you don’t let go of my dog I’ll—”
    He cut off as Grey let go of the dog. The dog scampered behind his owner and growled from behind his leg, but Grey knew the dog no longer sensed fear and wouldn’t attack again. Grey moved to stand a few feet in front of Oak. He didn’t like people who used their animals as weapons, and he didn’t like this man, period. “It’s better to answer the questions.”
    Oak tried to stare Grey down, but after a few seconds he looked away and cursed. Viktor pulled a sheet of paper from his suit pocket. “The membership records state that you’ve been a member of the House of Lucifer since 1966. After the death of Matthias, you’re the longest-standing member.”
    “So?”
    “Why don’t you tell us what happened the night Matthias died?” Viktor said.
    Oak sniffed. “Like I told the cop on the phone, we all saw the same thing. Right at midnight Matty was in the middle of a sermon, and next thing we knew he was a living inferno. It was crazy shit. I wish I could say I’d dropped a hit that night, but I hadn’t. Some people are saying they saw a figure in blackrobes right before Matthias lit up, but I didn’t see a thing.
They
probably dropped a hit. Lots of us do before we meet.”
    Grey said, “You’re saying you didn’t see anyone else besides Matthias?”
    “What do you think, the Devil came and got him? Matty was a charismatic man, had a lot of devoted followers. I suppose some people need to think he didn’t kill himself.”
    Viktor stepped forward, his looming height causing Oak to crane his neck upward to meet his gaze. “Do you have any idea why Matthias might have had cause to commit suicide?”
    “Nope.”
    “Any other recent death threats, enemies you didn’t disclose to the police?”
    “If I didn’t tell the cops, why would I tell you?”
    It was Viktor’s turn to lock stares, again causing Oak to look away.
    “Look man,” Oak said, “there’s nothing to tell. Just the usual crap from the Tammy Fayes.”
    “Anyone in particular?” Viktor said.
    “They’re always anonymous.” He tapped the bat against his right palm, causing Grey’s hands to tense. The moment Oak reared back to swing, Grey would strike him in the throat and strip the bat, using it to fend off the dog as necessary. “Not many people are stupid enough to