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Brooks came up: “The same Lucas Davenport? The one struggling against declining sexual prowess and the curse of cataclysmic dandruff?”
“Must be a different one,” Lucas said. “I’m the tall, dark-haired chick magnet, former hockey star, sidekick of the novelist Virgil Flowers.”
“Ooo. Could I get an introduction?”
Lucas: “Say hello, Virgil.”
Virgil: “Hello, Talullah.”
“Really? Are you as big a bullshitter as Davenport?”
“We run pretty close,” Virgil admitted.
“Unless you’re looking for a double date... what do you want?” Brooks asked.
Lucas said, “We’re working a murder case and we’re looking for a little information. There’s a ten-acre lot that a charity called the Home Streets is trying to buy over on the east side, some railroad land, as we understand it.”
“Yes. I know the property,” Brooks said.
“I thought you would,” Lucas said. “Who would like to sink the project?”
“That’s an interesting question,” Brooks said. “The parcel has poor access, which means the value is low and it’s not exactly a great neighborhood to begin with. That’s why Home Streets is interested. They could afford it. They’re also wired into downtown influencers who’d like to see the street people sleep-overs moved out of downtown. But: if Home Streets can’t buy it, and you had a big gob of front money, and very tight political connections to help you build access on the taxpayer’s dime... you could pick it up cheap, throw up some condos and make a killing. There are rumors that a couple of different developers have been looking at it.”
“Got names?” Lucas asked.
“I’d rather this didn’t come back to me,” she said.
“My lips are sealed. So are Virgil’s.”
“Tony Byrne, Arnold Drukker.” She spelled the names. “Rival developers. Don’t know how interested they really are, but they’ve collected maps and tax stuff, so I know they’re looking at it.”
“Are they crooks?” Virgil asked.
“They’re developers,” Brooks said. “Of course, they’re crooks. Mostly in a white-collar way. I don’t think they have leg-breakers—not actually on staff, anyway.”
“Who could tell us how much potential profit would be in that?” Lucas asked.
“Donald Brooks could help out. He’s a loan officer with U.S. Bank, and he can keep his mouth shut.”
“Any relation?” Lucas asked.
“Yeah. My brother. I’ll call him, ask him to give you a ring,” Brooks said. “A murder case, you say?”
“Yes. And thanks. Please do that, and one more thing,” Virgil said. “You’ve got that map database... could you look at theproperties for a couple blocks around, see if any of it is owned by a Thomas Burston?”
“I can. I’ll call you back. Shouldn’t take long.”
“Talullah, you’re a princess among women,” Lucas said.
“Then why am I working for the tax assessor?”
“Another of life’s mysteries,” Lucas said. “Call your brother.”
—
When they endedthe call, Lucas asked, “Is Sandy still at the BCA?”
“Yeah, she pretty much runs the place now,” Virgil said. “Nobody knows that but me.”
