I found what I came for. Not a lot of answers, but a whole lot of clues, and one or two flimsy concepts. I threw the books back into the boxes, keeping all the scraps of paper for myself. Before I left, I rummaged through the boxes one more time.

Good thing too, because I came across something interesting. It was a pair of brown corduroy bell-bottom pants. The fact that somebody actually wore them was amazing enough, but in the back pocket I found Cain’s wallet, complete and untouched. The pocket had been snapped shut with those little pocket snaps that they only use on kids’ slacks. Thank God for small miracles and inept police work. I did wonder how the cops could have possibly missed the wallet, but the reason became immediately clear. There was a skid mark the size of New Jersey that started on the inside of the pants and seeped all the way through to the outside. I dropped that foul shit and prayed my hand hadn’t gone near the stain.

Inside the wallet there was, briefly, seventeen bucks. I found Cain’s driver’s license, but the photo didn’t ring any bells. The only time I’d seen him, his head was huge, features stretched and distorted. When I felt along the inside seam of the wallet, I felt a small hard object sewn inside. The seam tore easily and a tiny manila envelope fell out. It hit the cement floor with a muffled clink.

The envelope had the Riggs National Bank logo stamped on it. Inside was a key on a tiny cardboard tag, “G454” written on it. I couldn’t help but grin.

13

It was Sunday, so going to the bank was out of the question. Instead, I had another plan. I called my apartment, and after a few rings, Mo’Lock picked up. In the background the TV was blaring so loudly that I could hardly hear the ghoul say hello.

“For Christ sake, Mo’!” I yelled. “Turn down the TV!”

I heard him drop the receiver. Fuckin’ ghoul.

The noise cut off abruptly and a second later he was back on the line. “Yes, Cal. What is it?”

“How’re you doing?” I asked, “Gun wounds all right?”

“All healed up, but I need a new shirt.”

I grinned. “I got a plan. It looks like we’ve got a little down time on the brainless case, so I thought we could go after the gun-happy punks who shot you.”

“They’re outside again. A little farther down the block, but I can see them.”

“Persistent little bastards, aren’t they?”

“And not too bright, I’d say. Tell me the plan.” He sounded more like a cop than I ever did.

“Simple, get a couple of your friends together. Not a crowd, just one or two—”

The ghoul cut me off. “Since the disappearance of the last two volunteers in the tunnel, I don’t think anybody will be up for another mission.”

“They’re goddamn dead already! What the hell have they got to be scared of?!” I was pissed, and a little embarrassed. I couldn’t even get dead guys to help me.