The Filthy Few: A Steve Nastos Mystery by Richard Cain

numbers attached. Nastos could almost smell the mould. A group of Sri Lankan men were watching them from the balcony, leaning over the railing smoking. A Native woman walked by them, two kids in tow.
    Carscadden shook his head. “Nice place to raise your kids.”
    â€œMakes me want to take Josie out of school just to give her a hug.”
    â€œYeah, give her one for me too.”
    Carscadden had brought his brown leather lawyer’s bag with him. The kind of questions they were going to be asking, they’d rather come across as lawyers than cops. Inside the office the atmosphere and smells changed. If it had been muggy outside, it was nothing compared to this. The air was thick from the smell of burnt marijuana and curried foods. A leather strip of bear bells jangled as the door banged into its crooked frame. A tall Sikh man appeared from the back room. He had red heavy eyes and offered a sedated smile; though half-baked, it took him less than a second to figure out that they weren’t there to rent a room. Nastos read the name tag: Sandhu.
    The man chuckled to himself. “We don’t offer hourly rates.”
    Carscadden opened his bag and slid fifty dollars to the man. “Mr. Sandhu, we’re just looking for information.”
    In one smooth motion Sandhu curled the fifty and put it in his shirt pocket then braced both of his hands on the counter that separated him from them. Like he had done it a hundred times before. He was a professional blabbermouth. “How can I help you fine gentlemen?”
    Nastos asked, “You used to rent a room to a guy named Rob Walker.”
    Sandhu blinked slowly. “I remember him well.”
    Nastos wasn’t convinced Sandhu remembered him at all but he definitely remembered what a fifty-dollar bill looked like. “Did he leave any personal effects here?”
    Sandhu turned to face the key board that was mounted on the wall. There were copies of all of the room keys, each key in its place, a Post-It note wrapped around the white string that was tied to it. “He may have. I haven’t cleaned his room since he left.”
    Carscadden’s face twisted up slightly, and Nastos noticed it. “Mr. Sandhu, that was over a week ago.”
    He shrugged. “When we get busier it might be worth it to hire a maid.” Sandhu turned to the key rack and dropped one on the counter. “There, room 103 .”
    Carscadden took the key and turned to go but Nastos stopped him when he asked, “Has anyone else been here asking about Walker?”
    Sandhu didn’t hesitate. “That depends.” He glanced to Carscadden’s bag.
    Carscadden sighed and took out two twenties. “There.”
    Sandhu swept the bills up in his hand like he was raking in a poker win. “Four men have come. Two groups of two. You two make it three groups of two. Mr. Walker’s past apparently caught up to him.”
    Nastos asked, “What do you know about his past?”
    â€œJust that he had one. With men like those looking for him, he didn’t seem to have much of a future.”
    Nastos considered the irony of Sandhu remarking that Walker didn’t have much of a future living here. Like Sandhu had the world by the balls as he managed this place for minimum wage and sold drugs to get by. “The other guys looking for him, were they cops?”
    Sandhu shook his head. “I don’t think so. And not you two either.”
    Carscadden said, “Just to be clear, they came around after he died?”
    Sandhu’s eyes flashed for a moment. “Dead? I thought maybe he just ran away.” He paused for a moment. “Yes, they came after he died.”
    Nastos was beginning to get the feeling that anything said or done in front of Sandhu may as well be broadcast to the entire planet. He had to tread carefully.
    â€œDid Walker have any friends here, anyone he talked to?”
    Sandhu enthusiastically slapped the counter,