I get the Boy Donut special, 3 glazed and a cup of coffee for 5 bones. Kinda hurts to sit there, after the beating I took, but it ain't as bad as it would've hurt if I didn't have the donuts. Dara just sat there, watched me eat [It was after nine at night, and everything they sold would have wrecked my diet. Trace couldn't name a single reason for me to have a donut that late. -Dara]. We had a bunch of cops swarming the joint on moss, getting their donuts and leaving [En masse. Trace's response once I explained the term: “So, it's got nothing to do with rolling stones?” -Dara]. Meanwhile, Casper Wong's running around behind the counter like someone electrified the floor. It can't be him, he's got too good a deal here, and he's way too busy. I try to talk to him, and I get nothing. I talk to the kid at the register, and it turns out CW lives and breathes this place. He even has a cot upstairs. Can't be him.
I sneak some bourbon into the coffee, and it tastes about 1000 times better. All the Caspers accounted for except the kid, and seeing how I dealt with his dad, I didn't think it would work out any better. Better not to push that one. Couldn't figure out what was going on. I told Dara the slob told me the name Cass, and it sounded legit. Figured we might have to go see Wilder again, see if he had anything else.
Dara gets one of em funny looks on her face. Asks me what if it was Cassandra or Cassidy. I pound my last donut into crumbs. I'm such a dumb slob. Shoulda known better. Not everyone makes it obvious when they pick a nickname. Especially if it's a dame might wanna keep people from knowing she's a woman.
We get back a lot more Cassidys and Cassandras from the internets, plus a whole buncha other names started with Cass. We gotta toss a lot of em. Ain't no 6 year old running everything behind the scenes. When all that's done, we got a list of 5 more possible Ghosts.
Before I take the Cassandras, I go by the Vanguard. George takes me upstairs to his office, limping all the way. I give him a rundown, tell him about the Diablos and Ramon and Wilder and how we were trying to catch Ghost, cut the whole thing off at the head.
George twirls a mostly browned basketball on his index finger. Keeps spinning for over a minute, and he just sits there and stares. Goes and shows me more polaroids of the graffiti, and him scrubbing the walls. Says he's got a couple offers on the table, above market value. Says he'd been dreaming of this place since high school, when his knee wasn't shredded and he was going to do everything he didn't want to regret not doing now. He sighs, and the basketball drops off his fingers, dribbles to a sad stop. Says the Diablos are scaring business away.
I ask what if 1 of them construction companies is behind it. He says they been in a bidding war, and he ain't got them to stop. If it was just one of em, they'da lowballed him or just stopped bidding it so high. Told George we'd keep searching. Asked him if there might be anyone targeting him, but he just shrugged his shoulders. Guy'd never done no one wrong in his life, near as he could remember.
From the Vanguard, I took the metro out to Woodside. First on my list, Cassandra Wilkens. Housewife out in the burbs. Figured I'd cross her off the list right quick and move on to Cassandra Cabot, CEO of Pontoon Privatized. Sounded like she had the flush behind all this.
Walk up to a simple 2 story, nothing flashy, just brick and aluminum siding. Buncha kid's toys in the yard, little scooter missing a back wheel, couple of dolls, dump truck. Bush out front is all drooped over, no one's pruned it in a while.
I knock on the door. Woman's voice screams out that she'll be right there. After a bit, this woman with short blonde hair, a mean frown, 5 foot nothing opens the door. She's holding a cell phone in 1 hand, nursing a baby with the other, yelling at me to tell her right now what it is I want. I'm trying to ask her for directions, the only thing Dara figured I could ask without giving myself away, but Cass's hissing into the phone, telling that poor slob it's a waste of everyone's time, maybe he should do the talking himself if he wants something done. Kid's still feeding. I take a look at her phone. Don't know much about them phones, but it's real shiny and new. She finally clamps it shut, tosses it over her shoulder. Apologizes for snapping at me, and I tell her her towel moved to the left. She covers her breast like nothing while I'm just staring up at the sky.
There's another ring from her pocket. She pulls out another phone, looks just the same as the first, says she's real busy, asks if it can wait. I just nod like an idiot as she slams the door shut, starts going full-on dame on the second phone. Most people don't carry 2 of the same cell phone like that. Least, not people working on the up-and-up.
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