by Marta Acosta
Bertie took an alert stance seconds before I heard footsteps crushing leaves and twigs. “It’s about goddamn time, Olly.”
“You want to tell me what you’re doing here?”
Although the voice was pissed off, it wasn’t Oliver’s. I twisted around and stood, losing my balance momentarily.
A dark haired, dark skinned man in a navy blue shirt and twill pants pointed an old revolver at me. He had a Towering Pines Casino & Hotel Security patch on his sleeve.
“I’m practicing canine search and rescue. You can put the gun down. I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“You’re trespassing on tribal land.”
“So you’re going to shoot me for that?”
“You should know since you’re the psychic.”
We heard a bark and saw Oliver and Zeus coming.
Oliver called, “Be my guest and shoot her, Edwin. I’ll owe you one.”
“If it ain’t, Olly Des,” the security guard said, holstering his revolver. “What’s shaking?”
“Looking for all the bodies you’ve buried.”
“Amateurs bury,” Edwin said. “We drive up the coast and dump them in the ocean. Fish gotta swim, sharks gotta eat. Because I’m into the whole reuse-renew-recycle concept.”
Oliver tossed the shoe to me. “We’ll walk back with you to the road.”
The guard shrugged. “Sorry, man, but you know the rules. I’ll escort you to the capo de tutti capo and you have to make your mea culpas, beg for mercy, kiss the ring, and pray to your god or gods the baseball bat won’t come out.”
“Always happy to visit the boss,” Oliver said.
Edwin led us up a path I hadn’t seen to an open clearing by the casino’s farthest parking lot.
“I didn’t know we were so close to Towering Pines,” I said, and the guard pointed up at a camera mounted on a skinny tree trunk, and said, “We did.”
We tramped across the lot, heat radiating up from the asphalt. I dropped behind, hoping they’d forget about me.
Edwin said, “Nice dog you’ve got there, Olly. What do you want for him?”
“He’s worth more than you can afford.”
“LOL, motherfucker.” Edwin turned his attention to me and didn’t seem to like me any better in full sunlight. “You ever come here to try to win big with your psychedelic mind power, girlie?”
“You may refer to me as Dr. Whitney,” I said, and didn’t appreciate Oliver’s smirk. “And, no, because the visual and aural cacophony of a casino make me want to run screaming.”
“Running and screaming is her M.O.,” Oliver said.
“Also,” I continued, “anyone with a rudimentary knowledge of game theory knows the house always wins, and if it doesn’t win, the house can ban someone for calculating probability.”
“Dr. Whitney is as annoying as shit,” Edwin said to Oliver, who practically fell over laughing, before saying, “Don’t complain when you threw away your chance to shoot her.”
I didn’t have any control over what was happening. Out of their line of vision, I opened and closed my hands with their paste of dirt and sweat.
The dogs were panting so I took them to a monumental fountain and let them drink, and before reluctantly following the men.
We reached the glittering brass main entrance of the casino. The automatic doors slid open, releasing a crowd of chattering tourists and a horror show of noises and flashing lights. The doors slid shut.
“It’s against the law for dogs to go inside an establishment that serves food and drink,” I said. “I’ll wait here with the dogs, Oliver.”
“We make an exception for spirit guides,” the guard said and caught my eye, and I got a shiver. Was he joking or did he understand?
“This way.” We followed him around the enormous building with wings jutting out like a death star and cameras mounted all along the roof, and finally stopped at a steel door marked Administration. A latch clicked open before Edwin even reached for the handle.
He entered first and then Oliver stepped in, holding the door for Zeus. He turned to look at me, but I couldn’t move forward. My skin prickled and my breath went shallow and fast.
Oliver said, “Blieb,” and Zeus sat. Oliver came and wrapped his arms tightly around me. In a low voice, he said, “Stop looking like you’re about to fall into convulsions. We’re going to say hello to the CEO. Everything will be fine. We’re going into an ordinary office and all you need to do is stay by me and keep your mouth shut.”
He wasn’t Claire’s brother then. He was the sheriff protecting me. I nodded, my head bumping his shoulder, now able to see the plain, quiet hallway. “I’m okay.”
He hugged me even snugger for a moment and then he stepped away.
Edwin was ahead, watching until we caught up with him. He led us to a reception area with modern furniture, displays of pottery and small sculptures, a flat carpet in earth tones, and a receptionist speaking in hushed tones on the phone. Edwin waved hello, and she smiled and pointed toward another hall that led to an expansive glassed-in office.
I was fixated by a multitude of large screens with video feeds from the casino, the crowds, the colors and patterns. Suddenly the screens went black and I noticed an attractive woman in a white button-down shirt, pinstripe skirt, and cowboy boots standing by the desk. Her glossy black hair was cut close to her head.
“Here they are, ma’am,” Edwin said and left us.
Oliver went to the woman. “Hi, Jeanne,” he said and kissed her cheek.
“Hey, hot stuff. Who’s your friend?”
“Zeus is my new search and rescue dog, and this handsome old fellow is Bertie.”
The woman and Oliver grinned at one another, and then she said, “Dr. Whitney, a pleasure meeting you. I’m Jeanne Gallego.”
When we were seated, Oliver said, “I’ve been instructed to beg for your mercy. I apologize. We didn’t see the boundary.”
I found my voice and said, “I was trying to make the trail difficult for them to track and I kept going farther. I didn’t realize we’d crossed the boundary.”
“Don’t do it again. Ever,” she said. “On that subject, Oliver, I wanted to ask if you’ve learned anything more about Sherry Rae Castleman’s death.”
“Nothing other than what I’ve already told you. Thanks for sending the videos.”
She nodded and looked at me. “You’re the one who found her when you were trespassing, correct?”
“Yes, unfortunately. For me. Her, too. I mean...” I shook my head. “Did you know her?”
“We met when Sherry Rae was still in law school, interning in DC. We met again when she accompanied Congressman Steffinson’s staff to the grand opening of the hotel. Sherry Rae said it was like she’d died and gone to heaven—gambling, wineries, and hiking all in one place.”
“Are you sure she wasn’t consulting on another expansion of the casino on her last visit?” Oliver said.
“You can ask me the same question as many times as you like and I’m going to give you the same answer: she wasn’t here on casino business. People take vacations, Oliver, even if you’re not one of them. When Sherry Rae checked out, she told the concierge she was going shopping in St. Helena.”
“Jeanne, if you do plan to expand, wait until I retire. I can do without Phineas Carozzo screaming in my face about how I’m aiding and abetting in the rape of the planet.”
She smiled. “If you want to hear what he said to me, I can send you that tape, too.”
“It’s possible that Sherry Rae met the Carozzos over the course of her business here,” Oliver said.
“It’s possible,” Jeanne said. “People mingle in the casino, and she visited several times over the years.”
I gave him a look. “Phineas Carozzo wouldn’t hurt a bug. He tried to convince me to switch the dogs to a vegetarian diet.”
“The morality police are casino regulars,” Jeanne said. “But the staff complains because they’re such terrible tippers,”
“Jeanne, I know Sherry Rae didn’t make any calls from her room phone and we couldn’t find anything on her personal phone, but could you check for calls made from public lines while she was here? Any footage of her previous visits would be helpful.”
“No. Unlike other nations, we don’t make a practice of violating everyone’s privacy on fishing expeditions.”
“Are you kidding?” I said. “Casinos have more sophisticated ID and data collection than the NSA. You have cameras everywhere, were the first adopters of facial recognition, gather information from credit cards and internet connections. If you want to know about the killer, you have to know about the victim and you know the victim. Why would he pick Sherry Rae?”
“Enough, Maddie.” Oliver smiled apologetically to Jeanne. “Sorry. Maddie has her opinions.”
“I’m familiar with Dr. Whitney’s reputation.” The woman’s gaze made me slide down a little in my seat.
Oliver stood. “Jeanne, I’ll see you at the Bonanza Days planning meeting.”
“Only two months to go,” she said. “If you’d like to stay for lunch, please be my guest at the restaurant, or enjoy one of our luxury rooms and room service...”
“And you said you didn’t go on fishing expeditions,” Oliver said.
“Had to try,” she said. “Dr. Whitney, if you come back here, please enter through the front entrance to enjoy our world-class entertainment and fine dining.”
Not a chance, I thought, and Oliver and I went to the office lobby, where Edwin was sitting in an armchair as if he’d listened to the conversation. He arranged for a casino van to drive us to Oliver’s Jeep, and we loaded up the dogs.
When we were heading back to Coyote Run, I said, “I’m worried about Zeus’s performance. He should have located me well before that security guard came.”
“Zeus was on the trail, but Edwin intercepted us and made us wait.”
“And you let him scare me with that old gun?”
“That Colt’s a beauty. Edwin likes the opportunity to remind me that he outbid me for it at auction,” he said. “Don’t mess with Jeanne Gallego because she will fuck you up.”
“So she’s married to the security guard?”
“Edwin’s a professor at Napa State. He went out just to say hi to me.”
“She knows something about Sherry Rae. More than she’s told you.”
“No doubt, but she has no legal obligation to share more than she has. I saw timestamped footage of Sherry Rae leaving the casino with her luggage and her car turning south on the highway.”
“What was she wearing when she was found? Had she been sexually assaulted? She liked hiking, gambling, and she worked for a lobbying firm. She was a risk-taker. Was she risky with men and other activities, too?”
“I can’t discuss this with you.”
“Why not? Because you think I’ll tip off the killer?”
“Because ‘shut up’ and, oh, yeah, ‘shut up.’”
I put the window up and down, trying to get the right amount of breeze, until Oliver said, “Stop that.”
I adjusted the window one more time. “Oliver, I need to inspect your place to approve it for Zeus. How tall is the fence in your yard?”
“I don’t have a fence.”
“Build one, although he can scale six feet easily.”
“I’ll show you my house, but you can only stay for five minutes.”
“Oh, you think you can last that long?” The muscles on his jaw tightened and I said, “You’re out of your mind if you think I want you out of your pants. Drop me off here, and I’ll write a letter to the City Council declaring you unfit as a dog handler.”
“Five minutes. That’s all.”
His house was a gray bungalow on a dead-end street. Oliver opened the front door to a simple modern living room with a black leather sofa and matching recliner, gray rugs, white walls, and chrome finishes.
Claire’s paintings were on the walls, along with family photos. I picked up a small framed picture of the twins when they were teens, long-legs in beat-up jeans, eyes squinting in the light. I was sliding it into my pocket when Oliver said, “Put that back.”
“It’s dusty. I was going to clean the glass. Geez.” I used the edge of my t-shirt to wipe down the frame and returned it to its place. I went through a small, neat kitchen and opened a back door to a wide deck with a built in gas grill and teak furniture. The yard backed up onto a wooded hillside.
I kept the dogs on their leads and let them sniff and mark the yard. When Zeus squatted, Oliver said, “Shit,” and I said, “It’s something you’ll have to deal with. You don’t have to fence all the way to the property line, but Zeus will be happier if he can range in a bigger area.”
“I’m not fencing anything. You keep him for me.”
“How are you going to bond with him if you don’t spend more time with him?”
“We’ll talk about it later. I’ll take you home.”
I slumped in the passenger seat as he drove on back routes through small clusters of homes and fields. “I can’t keep Zeus forever if he’s not my dog. Beyond the costs of food, there’s the upkeep, the space, daily exercise, the time and energy. I’m running a business.”
“Your method of running your business seems to be running your mouth.”
“Stop being such a jerk. If we have to turn you into a SAR handler, we have to talk to each other.”
“We’re talking, aren’t we?”
“I have never understood why you hate me so much.”
He blinked those pale lashes, but didn’t answer so I began adjusting the window again. We arrived at my house and he parked, finally turning to look at me. “I don’t hate you even though you act as if the law doesn’t apply to you. But I’m never going ever forget the way you hurt my sister.”
“She broke up with me!”
“Always the victim. It’s the world against Maddie Whitney, who is always blameless and oppressed.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” I said, crossing my arms tightly as I tried to control my body’s movements. “I tried so hard with her. I cared so much for her.”
“But there are limits to how much you can care for anybody, right, Maddie? I saw you fight more for a drug dealer’s dog than you ever did for Claire. Look at what you’re doing now to keep Bertie.”
“I love Claire because she led me to Bertie,” I said much too loudly in a car that felt much too small for my emotions which flew against the windows, trying to escape. “I wouldn’t have him if she hadn’t taken me to meet her friend at the VA.”
“Look at how well that turned out for her. You let her take the consequences of your actions.” His voice stayed the same level, but he hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “You should have loved Claire for being Claire, not because she’d helped you hoard another dog. You should have loved her as an artist, instead of constantly making her doubt what she was seeing and what she was doing.”
“I only wanted explanations!”
“No, you wanted to impose your limitations on her.” He got out of the Jeep and slammed the door.
We were silent as we let the dogs out of their crates. I bent down to rub my hands in Bertie’s thick fur. His dark liquid eyes looked up into mine and I ached at the gray on his muzzle and the scars on his back. “I don’t need to justify myself to you, Oliver. Build a fence and take your dog, and then my part of this bargain is over,” I said, my voice shaky as I tried to reconcile my unhappiness with the memory of running in the night, the cold air clean in my lungs, the sound of us crashing through branches, the smell of leaves underfoot.
I threw Kenzie’s red suede shoes in the back of his Jeep. “Bring those to our next class, which will be at nine-thirty on Saturday, because I’ve scheduled a special coach.”
Oliver drove away without saying goodbye. I crouched down and put my head next to my dog’s large one. Zeus nuzzled me and I stretched my arms around the dogs.
Chapter 14
“You’re in charge of helping this one get over her fears,” I said. “I miss Heidi, too. If you really want to be officially on the SAR team, you need your own dog and you need to practice with us.”
“You’re taking this seriously now? I thought the whole point was to get Desjardins to back off.”
“That was the whole point for me because I was trying to protect Bertie. But he has a hero’s heart and soul. Heroes need challenges. I’ll have to figure out some way to work with Oliver when situations arise.”
“Bertie has a great life. But, hell, if you like SAR, I’ll be your huckleberry and get a dog for the team.”
“Jai, you’ve always been my huckleberry,” I said, stopping mid-laugh when I saw a crappy, beat-up old Toyota coming along the road beyond the fields, and I knew it would turn into our drive, and I knew who had come to test my sister’s patience and my own tenuous grasp on sanity. I wanted to curl like an armadillo, hiding all my tender parts within an impenetrable scaled shell. I wanted not to be here and now.
I asked Jaison to take the ridgeback on a run with the pack, and I went to meet my brother.
JUST AS MY PRETTY LITTLE sister trod heavily, my oversized brother stepped gracefully. The tall gently waving grasses hid his feet, giving the illusion that he was gliding toward me. It was disarming. He was disarming, those delicate movements incongruous with his big hairy bearish, booze-gutted body, and wide-open toothy smile.
“Sis!” he said, sounding like ssssss. He lifted his arms, they were so light, they seemed to float upward, the big hands and thick fingers wafting above like seaweed in the waves.