Ted and the Preacher stepped out into the checkered sunlight filtering down through the subway tracks above.

“Tell me about Manny,” Ted said.

“A good man.”

A train passed overhead, killing any chance of continuing the conversation.

To call Manny Singh’s emporium a “fruit market” was akin to calling Trump Tower a multiuse high-rise. It was accurate without being descriptive. The store was Costco-sized, and though fruit bins were the prominent feature outside the entrance, inside one could purchase comestibles from dozens of cultures. There was a team of sushi chefs preparing plastic trays of fish, seaweed, and rice; across the aisle was a halal butcher. The aromas of spices, teas, coffee, and flowers melded into an exotic cloud that spilled out onto the sidewalk, luring in shoppers. Manny, in crisp white shirt and tie and a deep maroon turban, kept watch over his domain from the front door, greeting everyone who passed inside.

A huge grin broke out on Manny’s face as the Preacher raised a hand in greeting. “Welcome, friend,” Manny cried.

“Sat Sri Akaal,” the Preacher replied, his arm also raised, as in tribute.

“Sat Sri Akaal,” Manny echoed. “You bring the sun.”

“I bring a stranger.”

Manny examined Ted sternly for a moment. “Strangers are welcome here. This is the seeker you mentioned?”

“I am,” Ted answered. “I’m looking for a Barbara Miller.”

Manny’s face betrayed nothing, but Ted felt a slight chill of suspicion. “Follow me.” Manny took them into a tiny office, where the Preacher and Ted sat on pallets of canned soda. Manny faced them across an ancient green industrial metal desk.

“Barbara Miller?” he said. “A very nice woman. Gentle. Polite. I have known her many years.”

“I’m trying to find her,” Ted said. “Has she been around lately?” He knew he was pushing it, moving too fast, but Manny’s suspicions irked him. He tried to swallow his impatience.

“She is also very wealthy. What do you want with her?” Manny did not squint skeptically or allow an incredulous inflection to come into his speech, but he managed to convey the fact that he was not going to be satisfied with a bullshit answer.

Ted’s only option was to trust the man. It was the first step in getting the guy to trust him. Ted told him about the surplus money.

“This does not make sense. The Barbara Miller I know owns many properties in Corona. She hires a good management company to run them. Why would she let any of them be taken this way?”

“I don’t know. She’s old? Old people do these kinds of things. I see it all the time. Can you give me some of the other addresses? I’ll check them out.”

Manny rattled off the locations of three other buildings. None of them were anywhere near the site of the proposed development project.

“Have you seen her lately?”