“I don’t know. I thought maybe I recognized him, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Let me tell you what this guy’s been up to,” Lewis said, hopeful that once she knew what a bad person he was she’d be more inclined to help. He hadn’t actually told her he was a cop, but had flashed an open wallet at her, just long enough for her to get the idea. “He rips off real credit card numbers from real people, then makes new cards with all that personal data transferred onto it, goes on a wild buying spree for a couple of days, then ditches the card. Usually, by that time, the credit company has caught on to the fact that the usual spending for this card has changed, has alerted the owner, and shut the card down.”
She shook her head in wonder. “Fuckin’ amazing.” There was a hint of admiration there, like maybe she was wishing she could figure out how to do this herself. “I thought, ever since everyone started using those chip cards, this stuff didn’t happen anymore.”
“If only,” Lewis said. “New technology just slows the bad guys a while until they figure out a new way around it.”
He told her when he believed the man had been in the store. A couple of mornings ago.
“I was on, but I don’t remember this guy,” she said. She looked across the store, saw a tall, dark man restocking brushes. “Tarek, you got a second?”
Tarek came over and stood across the counter from the woman, next to Lewis.
“This cop here’s trying to find this dude,” she said. “I don’t recognize him, but he says he was in and bought some shit couple mornings ago.”
“What’s he done?” Tarek asked, examining the printout.
Lewis went through it again.
“We still get paid, though,” Tarek said. “If it’s credit card fraud, the credit card company pays back the cardholder.”
“I know,” Lewis said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not in your interest to try to help get this guy.”
“Yeah, well, it won’t make any difference with him,” Tarek said.
“What do you mean?”
“I remember him. He paid cash.”
“Cash?” Lewis said. Who the hell paid cash anymore?
“He bought some airbrush supplies, I think, and some markers.”
“Do you know who he is? Has he shopped here before?”
“I don’t know who he is, but yeah, he’s been here before. At least that’s what he said. Said every time he’s in the city, he pops in.”
“He’s from out of town?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he say where?”
Tarek shook his head. “I don’t think. I asked him if he was on our e-mail list, and he said he was.”
“Can I have a look at that?”
“I don’t think the manager’d want to just turn it over. Besides, there’s hundreds and hundreds of people on it.”
“What was he buying the airbrush equipment for? Specifically. What kind of work does he do?”
Tarek thought a moment, the studded woman looking at him expectantly. “He said he was an illustrator. But you know, there’s only a few million of those. Oh, yeah, and he said he was going to be doing some stuff for a news Web site.”
“What Web site?”
“Some new one. I don’t know. Something political, like the HuffPo.”
“The what?” Lewis asked. He knew his way around the Internet, but he still preferred a real newspaper to reading one online.
Tarek shrugged. “You know, the one with the lady with the accent. She’s on Bill Maher’s show once in a while.”
Lewis hated that guy’s program. Left-wing dickhead.
“But not that site? A different one?”
Tarek shrugged. “That’s all I know. Good luck.”
LEWIS got a booth at a café around the corner, ordered a corned beef on rye with a dill pickle and coffee, and called Howard Talliman.
“You know that HuffPo site?” he asked.
“Of course,” Howard said. “Why?”
“You know about some new site that’s coming out that’s similar to it?”
“I could ask around,” Howard said. “Why?”
“Just ask and get back to me quick as you can.”
LEWIS was finishing his coffee when his cell rang. “Kathleen Ford’s starting one up,” Howard said.
“Should I know who the hell she is?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so I think it’s possible she may have hired our man to work for her.”
“You got a name?”
“Not yet, but I will. You got some contacts for this Ford chick?” Lewis had out his pen and notepad, scribbled down a couple of numbers Howard gave him. “You know her?”
“We are familiar with each other,” Howard said. “But I wouldn’t drop my name. She thinks I’m a reptile.”
Lewis ended the call, thinking maybe this Kathleen Ford was a pretty good judge of character, although he had no illusions that, if she were to meet him, she’d view him any differently.
FORTY-THREE