“More receipts; one from a limo service; here’s o
ne from the Four Seasons – Jesus, nearly three hundred bucks for dinner!”
“He’s living well, isn’t he? And he doesn’t seem to use credit cards or write checks for things that most people would. I wonder where he’s getting all this cash?”
“I don’t see any old bank statements in all this stuff,” Cantor said, dropping another double handful onto the desktop. “Look at this, another limo receipt, more clothes – Alan Flusser, this time, who’s that?”
“High-end tailor and ready-made clothes.”
“Here’s one from Ferragamo for six hundred and change.”
“That’s two pair of shoes.”
“Every one of them is marked cash. Oh, he told the landlord he was a filmmaker. Where does a filmmaker get this much cash? A bookie doesn’t have this much cash!”
Stone had a thought; he called Dino.
“Yeah, Bacchetti,” Dino said.
“It’s Stone.”
“Hey, you must be making Bob Cantor rich. I got a call from somebody who wanted a reference for renting an apartment up here somewhere.”
“Yeah, he’s moving up in the world. Listen, Dino, have you had any burglaries reported recently where just about the only thing taken was cash?”
“Burglaries? How the fuck would I know; I don’t mess with that kind of shit.”
“Yeah, but your guys do. Would you talk to somebody on the burglary detail and ask about it”
“I’ll have to get back to you.”
“Thanks, friend.” He hung up.
“What makes you think he’s doing burglaries?” Cantor asked.
“Just a hunch. Whoever burgled Arrington’s place took only cash; the guy who hit me over the head took cash – and my Rolex. Whoever capped Arnie Millman in the alley outside Dryer’s – pardon me, your apartment – took cash.”
“You think all of those are the same guy, then?”
“Maybe. Maybe two guys.”
“Two? One of ’em’s Power, then?”
“One of my clients was being followed by a guy who looked like Dryer, but she said wasn’t Dryer, judging from the photograph, and yet they fit the same description. I got a tip that a guy from L.A. who might be behind the DIRT thing fits the description. Now we’ve got Dryer repeatedly calling a guy in L.A. who fits the description, and who left L.A. recently. Maybe he’s in New York now.”
“Brothers?”
“Could be.”
The phone rang.
“It’s Dino. What do you know about these burglaries?”
“What burglaries, Dino?”
“The burglaries you called me about.”
“I called to ask you about burglaries. You find some?”