Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the apartment door. Kasden hadn’t wasted any time coming over. Dad let him in and introduced us. The guy was short and stocky but muscled, with a bit of a ponytail that looked like it was maybe meant to distract you from noticing that he was balding on top. He didn’t look anything like my idea of a Sam Spade or Anthony Pellicano, though I’d find out later that he was one of those avid Harley owners who talked about their bikes with great affection. And he was always on the hunt for chicks, focused on his next conquest.