George (Thirteen)

Kinda made sense, Cass the Ghost, like Casper the Friendly Ghost. Thank God almighty it ain't a common name. Called Dara, told her to search the internets for Caspers, while I thumbed through the phone books. Before I made it past Alexander Aarvo, Dara found 4 Caspers in 50 miles. One of em was a 2 year old, Casper the 3^rd. His dad was still in play, Casper Johns 2, an investment banker. One Casper Wong owned a donut shop, might be a perfect cover. Caspar Rondell taught at Dara's old college. I went after the banker. Dara went back to her old stomping grounds. Once we got done, we'd meet up for a donut. Told her if she finished first, to get me a glazed and a coffee.

[No doubt, the donut, coffee and a shot of bourbon would constitute the entirety of Trace's dinner. His food pyramid consists of sweets, breads, red meat and cheese, along with liberal doses of vitamin B: bourbon.

I'd never taken a course with the professor. Basic internet research revealed nothing of relevance. Tenured astronomy professor, making ninety four thousand dollars last year. More than enough to fund side ventures.

Professor Rondell occupied a perch within the astronomy department observatory. What struck me about him were his sky blue eyes, clear and lucid, not something you would expect from a seventy-year-old man, much less one that spent the majority of his time stargazing.

Before visiting during office hours, I braided my hair into pigtails, on the off chance it might make me appear younger, or at least more vulnerable. Not that I couldn't pass for a twenty-two-year-old, but it never hurts to be safe.

I kept him there, babbling on and on about Star Trek and the stars and anything I could think of. After a while, the professor excused himself to go to the bathroom. While he was gone, I checked every pocket on his great coat, flipped through each desk drawer. Nothing hinted at any sort of criminal mastermind, which made sense. No self-respecting criminal mastermind would leave any evidence to corroborate that status.

When he returned, I asked if we could continue our conversation over dinner. He seemed perplexed, but accepted. We ate across from the Vanguard, then watched a movie. His hands wandered around my shoulder, but I let them stay.

At the end of the night, he tried to kiss me, but I told him that he'd gotten the wrong idea. Besides, I needed someone going somewhere, someone with power. Professor Rondell told me he'd head the astronomy department within five years, but I laughed, waved his idea off, and told him I needed someone that lived dangerously. He looked somewhat saddened, but nodded his head, asked that I not mention any of this to his colleagues.

I called Trace, let him know that Rondell wasn't our Ghost. Somehow, he was on his way to the donut shop, and I agreed to meet him there. -Dara]