Angie Carusso.
Gavin Rose.
None of the names is familiar, which is good, I decide. I think it would be even harder if I knew the people I'm sent to.
I take a last look and walk away, chanting the names so I don't forget.
It takes me nearly forty-five minutes to make it back to the cab.
When I get there, the doors are shut but unlocked, and the keys are no longer in the ignition. I sit behind the wheel, and when I pull down the sun visor, they fall into my lap.
"O'Reilly, O'Reilly..."
I'm going through the local phone book. It's midday. I've slept.
There are two T. O'Reillys. One in the better part of town. One in the slummy area.
That's the one, I think. The slummy one.
I know it.
To make sure, I go to the uptown address first. It's a nice cement-rendered house with a big driveway. I knock at the door.
"Yeah?"
A tall man opens up and stares at me through the flyscreen. He wears shorts, a shirt, and slippers.
"Sorry to bother you," I say, "but--"
"You selling something?"
"No."
"You a Jehovah?"
"No."
He's shocked. "Well, in that case, you can come in." His tone has changed immediately and his eyes are friendly for the first time. It makes me consider accepting his offer, but I decide against.
We remain on either side of the flyscreen door. I wonder how to do this properly and decide that straight out is probably best. "Sir, are you Thomas O'Reilly?"
He comes forward and waits a moment before answering. "No, mate, I'm Tony. Thomas is my brother. He lives down in some Henry Street shithole."
"Okay, sorry to keep you," and I start to leave. "Thanks."
"Hey." He opens the door and walks after me. "What is it you want with my brother?"
I pause. "I don't know yet."
"As long as you're going down there," he says, "could you do me a favor when you see him?"
I shrug. "No worries."
"Could you tell him greed hasn't swallowed me up yet?" The sentence lands between us like a ball with no air in it.
"Sure. No problem."
I'm nearly out the gate when Tony O'Reilly calls out one last time. I turn back to face him.