“Jesus, Mort. I leave you for just one day—what the hell’s goin’ on?”
“You know. The usual, finding stuff. It’s what I do.”
“Oh, for Chrissake. I saw it on television. And who was that with you? I mean, why was she with you? Sarah somebody.”
“Dellario.” Holiday-Sarah looked at me, tilted her head. “In fact,” I said, “I’m in the Green Room right now and she’s right here. We’re watching the news. You two should talk.” I handed the phone to Holiday. Or Sarah. “It’s Jeri,” I said. One way or another this was going to get worked out—in the open. No secrets.
Later I would remind myself that I was the one who said they should talk. Me. I did that.
“Uh, hi,” Sarah said. “I’m, uh, Sarah.”
At that point I had to piece the conversation together. There was a one-sided discussion about her hiring me, private detective that I am, Allie’s phone call, the trip to Gerlach, the gas problem, the room problem, the hundred-dollar bribe, more back and forth during which my future was a ping pong ball, so I left. Went out into the casino and up to the mezzanine, got a hot dog with mustard and onions, no relish. I’ve never gotten sick from a hot dog so I don’t worry about what’s in them, especially since they’re loaded with enough preservatives to kill a rat, and poison has no effect on IRS agents. Got done with that, so I went back to the main floor and found a roulette wheel, put five dollars on red. I won, so I let it ride. Won again, let it ride. Thirteen, black. Let it ride long enough and you’ll lose, every time.
Speaking of losing, I went back to the Green Room. Holiday was at a table, comfortably slumped in a chair with one bare foot up on another chair. She and Jeri had been talking for over half an hour. She gave me a smile and a little finger wave when I came in.
“He’s back now,” she said into the phone, which she kept. “No, he had on pants and a shirt the entire time.” Pause. “Well, yeah, he took off his shoes.” Pause. “Uh-huh. I think so. I heard him reciting the Boy Scout oath under his breath, sort of like a mantra. Does that count?”
“Gimme that,” I snarled. I took control of the phone again. “I didn’t recite the fuckin’ Boy Scout oath.”
“I’m shocked, given what Sarah told me.”
“Great. So given whatever the hell she told you, how’re you and I doin’?”
“We’re doing fine, Mort. She sounds nice. I like her. And, look, we made over ten thousand dollars right before I left, so we can afford to do a little pro bono work.”
“Pro bono work?”
“Sarah’s sister. Which means you should go back to Gerlach and dig deeper since Allie phoned from there.”
“You serious?”
A moment of silence. “Do you remember what you and I do for a living?”
“Sort of,” I admitted. I sat at the table. Sarah got up and sat at the bar, ordered a Tequila Sunrise.
“You and Sarah left Gerlach too soon,” Jeri said.
“Actually, we were escorted out of town and back to Reno by the FBI and others, including Russell Fairchild. They didn’t give us a say in the matter. In fact, they acted kind of stressed.”
“Fairchild, huh? How is good ol’ Russ, anyway?”
“Still chubby. Still jealous. Still doesn’t like me.”
“Great. So about Gerlach—there’s a lot you didn’t ask up there, or get a chance to ask, if Sarah got the story straight, which it sounds like she did. That guy Hank at the Texaco station might’ve had more information, but probably the sheriff and maybe that bartender, too.”
“Deputy sheriff. And the bartender was Dave.”
“Yeah, whatever. So you should go back and ask around. Be creative. Try to think like a private investigator.”
“Okay. First thing in the morning I’ll shoot on up there. Place is a garden spot. I might even buy us some property.”
“This evening, Mort. Go now. The trail gets colder the longer you wait. It’s eight fifty over here, five fifty over there. You could be in Gerlach by eight o’clock if you hustle, hopefully a little before, since Sarah said Hank buttons up the gas station at eight.”
“What else did she tell you? Did she tell you I got three hours’ sleep last night and I’m dog-tired right now?”
“She told me a bunch of stuff. And she said your house is under siege by the media. Of course you could stay at my place, which is going to be our place, but Sarah’s sister has never been to either your place or mine so there won’t be much to investigate. You might as well go back to Gerlach since that’s where things are happening.”
“Sarah told you a bunch of stuff, huh?”
“She did, yes.”
“Was it interesting?”
“It had something to do with how she’s been dressed. And what she wore to bed last night. It was in the way of full disclosure. She’s not hiding anything.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Don’t worry, Mort. It’s okay.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“It sure feels like we’re threading a needle here, Jeri.”
“I can see how you’d feel that way. But she’s a nice girl, I can tell. I think she and I will end up being pretty good friends. We’ve got more in common than you’d think. She’s kinda wow, what I saw of her on TV, but nice.”
“Wow, huh? And you aren’t worried?”
“Not at all. Should I be?”
“Like you said, not at all. Might not be any rooms available at the motel up there if I go up tonight. It’s hunting season.”
“Go anyway. Bribe that guy again.”
“Dave.”
“Whatever. Allie’s trail is getting colder by the hour. And take your wig and moustache with you, just in case.”
“I hate wearing that stuff, Jeri.”
“Take it with you anyway. You’re famous again. You never know if you’ll need it. Now let me talk to Sarah.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. Put her on.”
I waved Sarah over and handed her phone. She said, “It’s me.” Then: “You sure?” Then: “Yeah, I could do that.” Then: “Yes,” and, “Yes,” then a little laugh, and, “Okay, bye. Here he is.”
She gave me the phone.
“What was that all about?” I asked Sarah.
“Nothing. Just girl stuff.” She wagged a finger at the phone. “She’s still there. Talk.”
“I’m back,” I said to Jeri, staring at Sarah. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing. I was going to tell her something when you took the phone away from her. Anyway, I’m gonna go take a hot soak and do some stretching, then get in bed and read awhile. I’ve got to be up at seven tomorrow. Let me know if you find out anything in Gerlach, okay?”
“Sure thing, sugar plum.”
“Sugar plum?” Her voice had a smile in it. “I’ll get you for that when I get back.”
“Uh-huh. Looking forward to it.”
“Yeah, me, too. Bye, Mort.”
“Bye.” I ended the call.
Sarah came over, drink in hand, little umbrella stuck in a good-sized orange slice riding sidecar—O’Roarke was giving her the full treatment, no doubt due to her shirt.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Just great. Except for that underhanded girl talk and that Boy Scout thing.”
“You earned it, big-time. Would’ve got another merit badge if you hadn’t taken your shoes off.”
I got up, stashed the phone in a pocket. “See you around, kiddo. Got things to do.”
“Where’re you going?”
“Home. Hope all the cops and trolls are gone.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.”
My going home wasn’t a lie, just misdirection. I went over the back fence, then through my side yard, got into the Toyota before ABC, NBC, CNN, in fact any of ’em, saw me. Their vans were all aimed south so I backed out fast and headed north, which caused some predictable confusion and awkward three-point turns.
>
I made a few slippery lefts and rights that took me north and west, went through quiet neighborhoods at a fairly high speed, then stopped at Jeri’s, got the wig, moustache, my toothbrush, toothpaste, forgot to gather up a change of clothes in my haste, then hit I-80 at Keystone, headed east through Reno and Sparks.
The side mirror howls at sixty, but it’s quiet at seventy, and you can’t hear it at eighty over the distressed whine of the engine, so the run up to Gerlach had a bunch of different vocals.
Got there at five after eight. Lights were out at the Texaco station, so all that hustle was for naught, except sometimes it’s good to blow the carbon out of the engine. A purple glow was above the hills to the west as I nosed the Toyota into a slot at the casino, crammed it in between an oil delivery truck on one side and a power company rig on the other.
Dave started a dark draft as soon as I came in the door. He wasn’t there that morning when Reinhart made an appearance and put Gerlach on the map so he’d missed all the excitement, had to watch it on TV and get it secondhand from Deputy Roup.
“On the house,” he said, pushing the brewski toward me.
“Don’t know how you keep this place going, but thanks.”
He cast a hopeful look at the door. “She comin’ in?”
“Nope.”
“Well, hell. Beer’s three bucks then.” I reached for my wallet, but he waved it off. “Kiddin’, dude.”
I downed a third of the beer, then said, “Got a room? I’m dead tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Who would? Anyway, this’s your lucky day. I got one room left.”
“So I don’t have to bribe you?”
“Can if you want, but room six is open. Guy got a call from his wife half an hour ago, had to split.”
“Good deal. I’ll take it.”
I signed the register, got the key, took the beer over to the room, and settled in, which amounted to looking the place over to be sure the key worked and the room had a bed, then I took my beer back to the casino.
“That was quick,” Dave said. “Didn’t find any body parts while you were over there, did you?”
“Not a one. How ’bout a dinner menu?”
I ordered a steak, baked potato, corn on the cob, apple pie. He wrote it up, put the order through a slot in the wall to the kitchen, dinged a bell.
“Got a few questions for you, if you have a moment,” I said.
“Gotta keep the booze flowing, but go ahead.”
“Last night I asked about a girl, a little older than high school age, and Roup mentioned a green Mercedes SUV.”
“Uh-huh. I remember.”
“Have you seen an SUV like that around here lately?”
“No. But I’m mostly either in here or at home, which is a shack two blocks off the highway, back of the casino. Fact is, I don’t see much of the highway. Not like Mike or Hank.”
“I know about them. Know anyone else who might’ve seen that Mercedes?”
Dave gave that some thought. Still thinking, he went ten feet down the bar and drew a Guinness draft, went another ten feet and whipped up a daiquiri for a rough-looking fifty-something lady in jeans and a camo shirt. “Depends,” he said when he got back. “If the lady driving it stopped at Empire, at the minimart over there, someone there might’ve seen it. Over here, Mike and Hank are the most likely ones to have spotted it, but really, anyone could’ve. I can’t think of anyone else in particular.”
Well, the place only had about two hundred people. I could go door to door, blanket the town in a day or two. Which felt like a big waste of time, although I knew what Jeri would say about that. A while back she told me gumshoeing was 99 percent boring and if I wanted excitement then alligator wrestling might suit me. I thought maybe it wouldn’t since I don’t much cotton to alligators, but I didn’t argue the point with her.
“How about the girl?” I asked. “Have you seen her around?”
“Still got her picture?”
I got it out and set it on the bar. Dave gave it a long look in a light under the bar, longer than he had before. He handed it back. “No, but leave your number. I’ll call if I see her.”
I did that.
“How about the lady she was with?” I asked. “Tall, shoulder-length dark hair? Hank said she was prissy looking.”
Dave smiled. “Hell of a description. Don’t think you’re gonna get anywhere with that, man.”
“Yeah. Me either.”
My dinner arrived. I took it to an empty table and ate it. Two guys in their thirties were playing pool. Same guys as last night. When I finished eating I got up and showed Allie’s picture around the room. The hunters were a bust since they were from out of town. A few locals gave it a look, but shook their heads. I didn’t bother with the pool sharks since they’d already seen it.
Outside, the land was dark under a bright canopy of stars. Ten-pound barbells attached themselves to my eyelids. I was about to go crash in my room when Deputy Roup went into the casino, so I went back inside. He was already at the bar. I took a stool next to him.
“Aw, jeez,” he said. “If it ain’t my favorite private eye.”
“Nice to know I’m appreciated.”
“You didn’t find the rest of our good senator, did you?”
Probably a rhetorical question since I didn’t have a “cat that ate the canary” grin. In fact, a fair amount of the news was speculation, official and otherwise, about whether or not Reinhart was still alive. The smart money was on not, but a few pundits had pointed out that a person can lose a hand and keep on lying. Those would be pundits on the political right, with whom, this time, I happened to agree.
“Nope,” I said. “Just his head.”
Roup’s head jerked around. “What?”
“Kidding.” Thing is, people tend to believe me when I say I found a head. Probably shouldn’t joke about that.
He shook his head. “Jesus H. Christ, Angel.”
“That woman you saw putting gas in that Mercedes SUV over at the Texaco. Would you recognize her if you saw her again?”
“Maybe. Probably would if I saw her in that car.”
“Give me a call if you do, huh?” I gave him my cell number.
“Will do,” he said. “Goddamn, but you sure do stir things up.”
“Not intentionally, Sheriff. I’ll be in room six at the motel if you happen to see her.” I got off the barstool and headed for the door.
“Angel.”
I turned. “Yeah?”
“If you find any more pieces of Reinhart, haul ’em to Reno and find ’em down there, okay?”
“I’ll do that. I’ll tell Sheriff Burnley you said it was okay.”
The door shut off Dave’s laughter as I went outside.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MAN, I WAS tired. I’m at least an eight-hour-a-night person. Three hours the previous night didn’t hack it. I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth, and fell into bed, out cold in less than a minute.
The knock on the door came at 1:55 in the morning, right in the middle of the best sleep I’d had in a month.
“Wrong room,” I yelled.
The knocking continued. Loud, too.
“Sonofabitch,” I growled. My eyelids felt grainy. “Go away and die,” I shouted. I’m not at my best with grainy eyelids, which is a character fault that doesn’t respond to therapy.
The knocking continued.
“Aw, hell.” I turned on all twenty watts of a bedside lamp. The towel I’d used to dry off earlier was on a chair, damp, but faster and easier to put on than fumbling into a pair of jockeys, which I couldn’t locate, right offhand.
I wrapped the towel around my waist and whipped the door open. “What the fu—?”
It was one of the pool sharks, slim and scruffy, in boots, jeans, a denim vest. Could’ve used a comb, too, but it wasn’t my place to tell him that. “Is this yours, man?” he asked. “Says she is.” He had one hand on Holiday’s arm, just above the elbow. His buddy was
behind them, also scruffy and lean.
Well, hell.
“Yes, she is. Thanks for returning her.” I didn’t even blink as I said it, I’m that good.
“She’s a goddamn hustler, man.”
“Well, yeah, sure, I didn’t know that,” I said, striving for as much ambiguity as I could muster that early in the morning.
“You oughta keep her under better control, Jack.”
“Control!” Holiday yanked her arm out of his grasp. “You still owe me a hundred bucks, Dell.”
First-name basis with the sharks. Great. I looked beyond her, at her Audi nosed into a slot fifteen feet away. “Got the keys to your car, honey bun?” I asked her.
“Sure do,” she said sweetly, tossing them to me.
I went out in bare feet and a towel—first time for everything—opened the passenger door and got my gun out from under the seat. The things you forget when you’re operating on too little sleep.
“Whoa, dude,” Dell said when he saw it. He backed up two feet, into his buddy.
“Notice that I’m not aiming this at anyone,” I said. “And I’m licensed to carry concealed. Although,” I added, trying to be helpful, “I don’t have my license on me right now.”
“Yeah, I kin see that.”
Holiday held out a hand to him, palm up. “Hundred bucks, pay up.” She had on another one of those tops that would get her a week in jail in Iowa—faux leather, nice shade of burgundy. I went back to the room and turned, stood in the doorway.
Dell dug in a pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. He folded it once and shoved it into her top.
“Never judge a book by its cover,” Holiday said to him as she headed toward me, pulling the money out.
Dell stared at her. “Huh? What’s that mean?”
“Never mind.” She pushed past me into the room, pulled me out of the doorway, and slammed the door in Dell’s face.
“Surprise,” she said.
“Hustler, huh?”
“I played a lot of pool in the Peace Corps. There wasn’t much to do evenings up there in that village, but they had a pool table under a kind of outdoor canopy tent thing. I got pretty good.”
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