I called Cassandra from the office. "I will call you in three minutes. Be ready to roll." I clicked off, grabbed my coat and headed downstairs. Mystery Date was in his usual spot. I was assuming a bit, but nobody reads the Wall Street Journal outside, in the wind.
As I cruised by Mystery Date, I activated the crackberry and called Cassandra, again. "Meet me at the corner of 10th and Charleston in a half-hour," I said loudly as I passed by Mystery Date, intentionally holding the phone to my left ear, cutting off my field of vision. I didn't really need to see his reaction. Too bad.
Cassandra showed up right on time. Punctuality is a lost virtue. "Cassandra!" I shouted. "Come on over here and let me have the news.
She bounded up to me exuberantly. "Nebraska is 11th, and at Minnesota. Arkansas is 10th and at Mississippi and Clemson is 9th, hosting North Carolina."
"Good to hear that the Huskers are still making the cut," I said. "Walk with me."
We started heading toward Preacherman's store-front church. He was already out, trying to save what few souls were venturing near.
As we walked Cassandra leaned into me, "Oklahoma State is 8th and at Missouri, could be interesting. Oregon is at Colorado, won't be interesting, and Wisconsin is at Michigan State, in the most interesting game of the week. Mystery Date is on our trail."
"I know," I said, suppressing a smile. "He's performing exactly according to plan. I don't know if I want Sparty to give Wisky a good game, or get their asses handed to them like we got ours."
We passed by Preach, who was in full-on lather. The Spirit was definitely moving him, today.
As we turned the corner Cassandra said, "My Cardinal is number 5 and at Washington, which should be good for a half. Until my boyfriend gets tired of toying with the Huskies. Oklahoma is 4th, and hosting Texas Tech. That should give a good picture of relative strengths in the Big 12."
Mystery Date got stopped by Preacherman as we turned the corner.
"Brother! I can see that you are perturbed by a malevolent spirit," Preacherman shouted as he placed one hand on Mystery Date's chest and the other on his back. "I can feel the demonic influence of Satan's pit troubling your heart. Give yourself to me and the spirit of JE-sus, will set you free."
He started moving Mystery Date around in a slow spin, disorienting him and adding another layer of confusion. As he spun Mystery Date, he deftly lifted the wallet.
Mystery Date looked nervous and irritated, but Preach continued with his act. He clapped his hands over Mystery Date's eyes and shouted into his face. "Unclean spirit, be GONE! By the power of JE-sus Christ I command you to be GONE! Foul fiend let this poor man's soul FREE!" He slipped the wallet to the delivery boy.
Cassandra and I were in the back room of the church. One of Preach's delivery boys came in, handed me the wallet. I pulled out a driver's license and a credit card. Cassandra took a couple of quick snaps with her Nikon. I slipped two twenties and an "Our Lady" business card in and handed the wallet back to the kid. Elapsed time, 25 seconds.
We sat down to wait for the second act to play out and checked out or info.
"Alabama is 3rd, and hosts Tennessee. LSU is hosting Auburn, who is starting a new quarterback, might be worth checking out," Cassandra said, ever the multi-tasker.
Out on the street, Mystery Date had finally broken free from Preacherman, his soul no longer weighed down by a demon. He made it to the corner, looked all over for Cassandra and I. He couldn't see us. He spun around, trying to pick up our trail, gave up in frustration and started trudging back to his car when he noticed his wallet was missing. Our delivery boy had been watching for the visual cue and started calling out to him, "Mister! Hey mister! Sir, I think you dropped this" holding out the wallet as he approached.
"Um, thanks," Mystery Date said, as he stuffed the wallet back into his pocket.
"I don't mean to be rude, sir. But in this neighborhood, if someone does something nice for you, you do something nice, back." The kid was awesome, staring right at Mystery Date, almost daring him to stiff him.
Mystery Date assessed the situation and came to the right decision. He pulled the wallet out, opened it, and pulled one of the twenties out. He had a look on his face like he had forgotten his own phone number. His hand shook as he handed the Jackson to the kid.
"Thanks, mister," he said as he bolted down the street.
Mystery Date pulled the "Our Lady" card out. He wasn't a complete moron, he started to put the pieces together. He'd been had, but it was already too late.
"Boise State is still number one, and has an easy home game with Air Force," Cassandra said as we looked at the digital camera.
"Mmm-hmm," I said, slightly disrtracted by our Mystery Dates's name. "Alan Davison. North Carolina driver's license and look at this. Employee id card and access pass for a major air-line. "That explains the bus-driver gear."
"We should set up a meeting," Cassandra said.
"He will. The number on the card is a phone at 'Our Lady' that rings through to my crackberry. Give him about two hours and let's take Preacherman to lunch."
Things were beginning to get interesting.
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