“Cash Jones said you were the man.” I spoke to the crusted digits and mentally crossed my own.
“Cash Jones told you wrong.”
Bingo. Mr. Death knew him. “Then he"s not the big shot he claims.” I slapped the counter. “I knew it.”
“He never mentioned any girl droppin" by.”
“And he never mentioned you were an ass.” I swung around and strolled to the door.
“What"s your name?”
I stopped and turned. “Sangita.” Why I used Carmie"s middle name I couldn"t say; it simply popped out.
Crossing twig-like arms sporting warrior tattoos, he propped himself against a messy rear shelf. “What"re you lookin" for, Sangita?”
“Information.”
For the first time, the gaunt face displayed emotion—that of surprise.
I pulled a C-note from my cut-offs. “It"s yours if you tell me where Cash lives or hangs out. H
