Stuff Dreams Are Made Of Read Online Free Page B

was leaning in, eagerly hoping for some business advice he could use.
    “People want to blame somebody else for all the problems of the world, and the rev honed in on that. First of all, he got into the ‘God’s gonna make you rich’ thing. He got people dreaming. That’s doing really well for him. Collections doubled, tripled. But he really saw his fortunes start to climb about three years ago when he nailed that senator from Nebraska, Long I think his name was.”
    I drew a blank.
    “Guy was antigay, anticivil rights, and he made a couple of statements that struck the rev the wrong way. Very right wing. May have even used the N word. Rev went after him and Cashdollar was getting national press — cover of
Time
magazine — and the money was rolling in.”
    “And what?” I asked. “They ran this Long out of office?”
    “Not exactly. The rev got the national media behind it, got the newspapers and television networks to go after this guy. Rev was on Larry King and a lot of left-wing talk shows. He started a letter-writing campaign, phone banks, blogs on the Internet, and stuff you couldn’t imagine.”
    “He’s that powerful?”
    “More powerful than even that.”
    “How much more powerful can you be?” Now I was intrigued.
    Crayer folded his hands over his ample stomach and in the dim light gave us a hard look. “I was there when Fred Long got killed.”
    All of a sudden he’d remembered the senator’s name.
    “Somebody shot him in cold blood on the streets of Washington D.C. And boys,” he stopped for a moment, looking off into space, “boys, you don’t get any more powerful than that.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    James drove, and when he’d occasionally hit the brakes we could hear the kitchen equipment rattle in the back.
    “What do you think he meant?” James hadn’t said much since we left the fairgrounds.
    “Well, I don’t think he meant that Cashdollar actually shot the man.” I was thinking how Crayer had not been sure of the deceased’s last name, then all of a sudden had come up with the full name. No question, he knew the story.
    “I don’t know the story, pally, but Jesus! That’s some serious charge.” James took a long drag on his cigarette and blew a stream of smoke out the driver’s window. “Think about it, Skip. Enough clout to have somebody whacked? What would that feel like?”
    “Feel like? It would scare the hell out of me. I don’t want that kind of power. I mean, I really don’t want someone killing a senator or anybody, because of something I said.”
    “And Crayer says when Cashdollar attacked, the money came pouring in.” James was all about finding new ways to make money.
    I thought about Crayer’s accusation. It would be easy enough to find out if Fred Long had died. And, it should be easy to find out how he died. Maybe Cashdollar’s constant hounding did bring about his death. Or maybe the shooting was totally unrelated. Or maybe, just maybe somebody in Reverend Cashdollar’s congregation actually killed Long. “And the other thing he said —”
    “What was that?”
    “I was there when he was shot.”
    “He must have been living in Washington at the time. They eat donuts in D.C. too.”
    “And then, what about Barry Romans? I mean, is his life in danger?” James turned to me. “Imagine, Skip. What kind of business is that? One where you actually try to bring somebody down?”
    “James, you’re actually showing some compassion?”
    My roommate rolled his eyes. “Hell, no. I was thinking about what Bruce said. Something about absolute power. Getting someone killed? I’m with you. I don’t want to kill somebody, but I just wonder what it would be like to have that absolute power.”
    “Let’s hope you never find out.” Sometimes, James scared me.
    “Absolute power, bro. Like God.”
    I thought about the senator. And about the food vendor who may or may not have been killed, right there on the park grounds. And I thought about Cabrina Washington,