Since Cason had a date with the Kincaid secretary, Lateesha, we thought staying at Constance’s place might be bad form, so we rented a room in the Holiday Inn Express near the airport. It had two beds and a rollaway; we left that death trap for Cason.
Cason didn’t come back that night, so we sat around and watched television and went to bed late, like parents worried about their boy who had passed his curfew. In the morning, we went downstairs and looked at the free breakfast and understood why it was free, so we walked to a restaurant next door.
As we walked, Leonard said, “If Cason doesn’t show soon, he’s going to have to find a ride home. I’m not taking that motherfucker in to raise.”
“I thought you said he was loyal, and-”
“Oh, shut up.”
We were going inside the restaurant when Cason came up. Out in the lot, we saw Lateesha driving away in a red sports car.
“Good to see you,” I said. “But we didn’t come here to serve as a dating service.”
“Oh, I got that date all on my own.”
Cason held up a disc.
“What’s that?” Leonard said.
“A list of all of Kincaid’s clients,” he said. “Lateesha got it for me off her computer. It occurred to me that-and I know this will be hard to believe-Kincaid might be lying.”
“What has the world come to?” I said.
“I’m going to send it to Mercury, have him cross-check it and see if there’s anyone on it that might be someone who would do Kincaid a favor. So to speak.”
“The old organized crime figure on the accountant sheet trick,” I said.
“That’s it,” Cason said.
The greeter came over and guided us to a booth in the back, which is what we asked for. Soon as we were seated a thin waitress who looked as if it would be all right with her if everyone who ever wanted to eat in a restaurant was dead, arrived and took our coffee orders and went away.
“Mercury can do that?” I said. “He has that kind of list available to him?”
“He has a list of lists,” Cason said. “If there are people on this disc that cross-check as criminals, or are associated with criminals… We can check. It might lead to something, and it might lead to nothing. But it seems like this baby”-he held up the disc-“has made the trip worthwhile. It’s more than Kincaid would ever tell us just by asking.”
“Lateesha get anything out of this?” I asked.
“About six inches of dick and a marvelous breakfast,” Cason said.
“Six inches and about ten feet of bullshit is what I figure,” Leonard said.
“I’m not the world’s best person to be around women,” Cason said. “And the worse thing is, if I really get interested in them and they lose interest in me, which seems to happen as I tend to get preoccupied with things-”
“Like more women,” I said.
“That would be one of the preoccupations, yes,” Cason said. “But if they lose interest in me, I become a half-ass stalker if I don’t watch it. It’s hard for me to let go.”
“So you have an inferiority complex,” Leonard said.
“Could be,” Cason said.
“What about Constance?” Leonard said.
“I’m seeing her next weekend,” Cason said.
“What about Lateesha?” I said.
“Constance Saturday, Lateesha Sunday.”
“Do you take vitamins?” I asked.
“Push-ups and clean living,” Cason said.
Driving home, Cason and Leonard talked about this and that. I tuned out and thought about Kincaid. If he had done anything to get rid of those associated with Godzilla, and her crime, I had a hard time figuring out what made him bad and us good. I had his money and resources I might have done the same thing. Hell, without his money I had done that kind of thing in the past, and Leonard was with me and he was proud of it.
So why did his shit stink and ours smelled like perfume?
And Bert had an idea, maybe a guess similar to ours, that Kincaid might have done the daughter in, and since he had lost all that money to the kitties, maybe he thought he could get some out of Kincaid. Only thing was, Kincaid hadn’t bit, and he may not have bit because he may not have been guilty. Or the only card Bert was holding was a guess, and Kincaid knew it. He struck me as a shrewd and intuitive man. And Miss Clinton, she didn’t seem like a slacker either. But the bottom line was, Bert was dead. Why would Kincaid bother to have him killed? Or had he. And if not, who did?
No answers presented themselves.