George (One)

Dara was playing music from her computer, some of the new stuff. I think she said it was the Rolling Stones. I asked what records she had on the jukebox in there. Didn't look that big, so I guessed maybe she had 4 or 5 in the box. Dara laughed and gave me one of her crazy dame stories I stopped paying attention to soon as she got that look in her eye, something about MP5s and mega bites. Then, she clicked a few buttons, started playing Car Men Purina [Trace means Carmina Burina. At least he's reached a point in his life where he knows enough to get the name wrong. -Dara]. It was a dame move, sure, but I had to smile.

It was a case we just finished. George limped in the office, leaning to the right on his old cane. Taller than me, kinda quiet, but he caught Dara's pen before it hit the ground. He had one of them lined, leathery faces, and his lips twitched just enough made it seem like he wanted to go outside and grab a cig. Real thin eyebrows, almost like 2 pencil lines.

He ran the Vanguard Theater. I'd been there a few times, one of them old-timey theaters rebuilt to show movies. Kinda busy the last few years, with all the crime and genderfication [Gentrification. Then again, Trace has probably assigned the city a gender, female, and has probably already created a private naming system for the entire grid. -Dara].

There's been a lot of graffiti down his way. He wanted me to catch whatever punks were painting up the Vanguard. I asked him what made him think there was a single group, and he pulled out some pics. Lots of graffiti, red and orange flames, and the word “Diablos.”

I asked George why he didn't go to the cops. They told him to get a bucket to cry into, and when he was done, he could use that to wash off his building. They had bigger fish to fry.

Dara asked if it was everywhere, and he said it was mostly just his building. Lot of the places around him were going upscale, they could afford private security. Not him, he was barely staying above water.

I asked if anything changed recently. The big difference, everyone was selling out. Property down there was real expensive, and people were cashing in. Vanguard was kinda like an ugly wife, real nice inside, but not much to look at outside. Didn't really fit in anymore, especially among all them new and shiny buildings. Thing was, George couldn't sell. That theater was his baby.

I asked why he didn't just wait up for the Diablos, call the cops himself. He told the cops wouldn't show up till morning, plenty of time for the punks to spray and run, and he wasn't gonna try to stop them himself.

Told him I could start tonight. After he passed me the retainer, I had Dara brew another pot. Dumped out my cup, had to switch to the nonbourbonated stuff. It was gonna be a long night.