by Chance(lit)
"You called me, pal."
I nodded. I was thinking about what to say. Since I didn't know what was going on there wasn't much to think about. I turned to one of Spenser's rules. When in doubt tell the truth. It was a brand-new rule, and it might be worth testing.
"Your wife's with Anthony Meeker," I said.
"Tell me something I don't know."
"You know where?"
"At the Mirage," Marty said.
"You know Julius is there too?"
Marty didn't say anything.
"Julius is going to kill Anthony," I said.
"He better hurry."
"Julius's daughter, Shirley, was killed Sunday," I said.
"Cops found her in a vacant lot up the Strip a little."
"Yeah?"
"Julius is upset," I said.
"He blames Anthony."
Marty said nothing. Below us on the Strip, cars moved steadily
in both directions. Across a short spread of scrub desert, Route 15 was busy with trucks and cars and RVs heading west to California and east to Utah and the northwest corner of Arizona.
"I'm under the impression," I said, "that you and Anthony were in on some scam together."
"Lying little fucker tell you that?"
"I got that impression."
"It's bullshit."
"So why are you here?"
"I'm going to kill him and take my wife back."
"He didn't do anything to you," I said.
"She did."
"Don't matter who did what. He dies. She comes back."
"And if she doesn't want to come back?"
"She'll come back."
"Or?"
"No or. She'll come back."
"And you'll forgive her," I said.
"Fuck forgiveness. Forgiveness got nothing to do with it," Marty said.
"She's with me, you unnerstand? That's how it is."
"Maybe not," I said.
"You going to get in my way?" Marty said.
"You kill Shirley Ventura?"
"Why the hell would I kill Shirley Ventura?"
"What was the deal with Anthony?"
"I got no deal with Anthony, asshole. He collected money for Julius, passed some of it along to Gino."
"Through you?"
"Everything goes to Gino through me," Marty said.
"Makes it easy to skim," I said.
"Any skimming was done by Anthony."
"Bibi says you and Anthony were playing a two-man game," I said.
"You're a fucking liar," Marty said.
"Bibi don't know nothing about my business."
"Says you introduced her to Anthony," I said.
"Says she ran off with him to get away from you. Says you're a. pig."
It was a gamble to get him mad enough to say something wrong.
It didn't work. He didn't say anything. He swung at me. He telegraphed it some, and I was able to turn my hips against the railing as it came. The punch landed on my right cheekbone, and rocked me backwards, and sent me staggering along the railing. Marty could hit. If I hadn't half slipped it I would have gone down. I could feel the shock of it through my head. Everything darkened and for a minute I didn't see well. The railing helped keep me up.
"I'm sick of you, Spenser. You got that? I see you again and I'm going to fucking beat you to fucking death."
My head was clearing. I steadied against the railing as my legs re solidified and my knees unbuckled. Fighting with Marty Anaheim wasn't going to help me figure out what was going on.
I said, "Not here, Marty. Not now."
He extended his arm straight out from the shoulder and pointed his finger at me.
"You been warned," he said and turned and stomped back toward the emerald palace.
I glanced down the overpass in the other direction. The little guy with the Panama hat was leaning on the railing looking at me and shaking his head. I felt my cheekbone. It was hot and already puffy. I had learned nothing and gotten popped on the kisser in the process. I was willing to take one on the chops now and then if it furthered my cause. I wasn't sure my cause had been furthered.
But Marty would probably be overconfident next time. Which was a good thing. And Hawk would be amused. No cloud without a silver lining.
The little guy strolled down the walkway and tucked a small business card into my shirt pocket.
"Take a pretty good punch," he said.
"Yeah, it's one of my best things, but I try not to do it too often."
"I'm in business out here," he said.
"You ever need some work done, gimme a call."
"You figure I need help?" I said.
The little guy shrugged.
"I know I need business," he said, and strolled off toward the MGM Grand.
CHAPTER 28
When I got back to the hotel Hawk and Bibi were sitting in my room.
"Anthony's gone," Hawk said.
"Tell me about it," I said.
"Went in the bedroom to lie down," he said.
"Turned on the television, left the door ajar.
"Bout twenty minutes ago she went in to use the bathroom. He was gone. Chain off the hall door from the bedroom. I could look for him or I could stay with her."
Bibi sat forward on the front edge of one of the easy chairs near Hawk.
"Well, he didn't hire us to keep him in," I said.
"What I thought."
"He got any money left?" I said to Bibi.
She shook her head.
"He took ours," she said.
"Ours?"
"We had five thousand put aside, win or lose, to take us out of here, and give us a start. I had it in my makeup case. It's gone."
"Anything else?"
Bibi shook her head.
"He was going to be the one," Bibi said. Her voice was quiet.
There was no hint of tears behind it this time.
"He was going to be the one got me out of it, away from Marty. Find some town on the Oregon coast, start a store or something. Bookstore, maybe. I like books. He was going to bust The Mirage and then we were going to go to Oregon and open a bookstore."
"You have any money left?"
She shook her head again. Her face was still, her eyes were empty. If she felt anything it showed only in the slump of her shoulders as she sat on the edge of the chair.
"I was going to run it, read up all the new books, tell people when they came in what was good. Get a cat maybe, a store cat, let him sleep on the books in the window. You know how they stretch when they wake up and sort of slide around?"
"You got a plan?" I said.
"Even if he lost everything," she said softly, as if I hadn't spoken, "we had the five thousand. That was my idea. I kind of knew what Anthony was, and I wanted some money to be mine so he wouldn't lose it, and we could at least get to Oregon. I could maybe get some waitress work. I know he wouldn't work, not regular work. But if I got to Oregon, it wouldn't matter so much about him, then."
"You go back to Boston, Marty'll find you," I said.
She nodded.
"I don't want to go back to Boston," she said.
"He will not be forgiving of your little fling with Anthony," I said.
She shrugged.
"If you didn't go to Boston, where would you go, Oregon?"
"Oregon is no good now. He ruined it."
"You got to go somewhere," I said.
"What's the difference if I haven't got any money anyway?"
I reached into my right-hand pants pocket and took out Julius's money and handed it to her.
"Should be about five thousand."
"I can't pay you back."
"Why should you be different," I said.
"You want to go to Oregon?"
"No. Not now."
"You got family anywhere?"
"I don't want to see them," she said, "and they don't want to see me."
"Makes it nice and even. How about L.A. You ever been to
L.A
.?"
"No."
"Time you went," I said.
I got up and made some phone calls leaning against the bar in the living room, staring out the window at the un-erupting volcano.
Hawk leaned back on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, his eyes half closed, as if he were asleep. I knew he wasn't.
When I got through I came back and sat on the couch beside her.
"Okay," I said.
"You're on the five P.M. Southwest flight to L.A.
Gets in at six-oh-two. Hawk and I will take you to the airport, put you on the plane. In L.A. a guy named Chollo will meet you at the gate. He'll carry a sign that says CHOLLO on it."
"Chollo?"
"Yeah. There's also a cop in L.A. named Samuelson. I'll write it down for you. You need cop help, you call him. He'll know who you are."
"What's this Chollo guy going to do with me?"
"Look out for you," I said.
"You can trust him."
She nodded.
"So you want to pack some stuff?"
She nodded.
"Maybe one shoulder bag, so we can move right along?"
"Yes, that will be okay."
She didn't move. Hawk opened his eyes slowly and smiled at Bibi.
"Come on," he said.
"I'll help you."
"Pack?"
"Sure."
"You can't help me pack."
"No?"
"God no."
"We better get going then," he said.
She stood and we went up to her room and stood around while she packed.
"You thought of a name yet for that mouse you got on your cheekbone?" Hawk said.
"I thought I'd wait and let it pick its own name when it's older."
"Marty give you that?"
"Yeah."
"Neither one of us looking too good today," Hawk said.
Bibi came out of the bedroom with her suitcase, and stood quietly near the door.
"Okay," I said.
"What about the hotel bill?" Bibi said.
"We'll let Anthony worry about that," I said.
Hawk went out first, then Bibi, then me. We let her carry her shoulder bag, because if we had to fight neither of us wanted to be carrying it when the fight started.
But there was no fight. We got into Lester's car out front and drove to the airport.
At the security gate, I handed Hawk my gun and went through with Bibi and walked her to the gate. Before she boarded she hesitated and looked at me.
"What are you going to do?" she said.
"After I leave?"
"I was thinking we might get drunk," I said.
She nodded to herself and then she smiled and kissed me very carefully on the cheek and went on down the ramp. I stayed at the gate until the plane took off.
CHAPTER 29
The phone rang in my hotel room at 7:35. I was lying in bed awake, when it rang, planning out a full day of volcano watching.
"She never showed," Chollo said without preamble.
"I waited three flights. With my sign. I don't know what she looks like.
Nobody came up and spoke to me. So I went home, figured it was another gringo trick."
"Perfect," I said.
"Anytime you want me go stand around LAX again with a silly fucking sign, be sure and let me know," Chollo said.
"I'm not happy either," I said and hung up.
I got out of bed and stood at the window and looked out. Be hours before the volcano erupted. I called Susan but her machine was on which meant she was already downstairs in her office. I called Julius's room, but he'd checked out. I looked at the business card the little guy in the Panama hat had given me. It said Bernard J. Fortunate Investigator, Professional and Discreet.
There was a phone number with a Vegas area code. I called it. No answer. So I called the cops. They're always there. I asked for Homicide, got Romero, and told him what I knew.
"Back in Boston," Romero said, when I was through, "when you were on the cops, did you keep losing your gun?"
"I've had better weeks," I said.
"I hope so," Romero said.
After I hung up I showered and shaved in the empty large hotel suite, making as big a deal out of it as I could. I called Hawk to see if he wanted breakfast. He did. I dressed carefully, and went down. Bob brought us coffee.
"Hey, Boston," he said.
"You got yourself some kind of shiner."
"Any kind will do," I said.
Hawk drank some orange juice. I had decaf and a couple of bagels. Hawk had scrambled eggs with chives, coffee, and sourdough toast.
"What we going to do now?" Hawk said.
"You may as well go home."
He nodded.
"You staying around?"
"Another day or so maybe, just make sure I haven't missed anything."
"Missed anything," Hawk said.
"We missed every fucking thing there was to miss out here. We lost Anthony, we lost Bibi. Shirley got killed. Julius fired us, and Marty Anaheim whacked you on the bazoo. Probably would have whacked me on the bazoo too, if I was there."
I drank some decaf.
"You know who I miss," I said.
"I miss Pearl the Wonder Dog.
She'd act like I was terrific if she were here. She'd think I was the balls."
"Sure," Hawk said, "me too."
After breakfast I said goodbye to Hawk and went to talk with my new friends in Vegas Homicide.
Romero was drinking coffee in his cubicle in the Homicide squad room.
"After you called us," he said, "Cooper went over to the Grand. Talked with Mickey Holmes, the security guy over there. Used to work here. Bernard J. Fortunate checked out last night. There was no Martin Anaheim registered. Mickey says guy answering his description was with Bernard J. Fortunate yesterday when he checked out and no one's seen him since. Julius Ventura and party flew out on Delta at eight-fifteen this morning. To Boston, via DFW. So far we got no flight record on Anthony Meeker.
We're still checking. He coulda paid cash, used another name.
We're checking cash ticket purchases. Car rentals too."
"Would have had to use a card for a car."
"So I've heard," Romero said.
"You got anything new on Shirley Ventura?"
"Nothing that matters. Still raped and strangled. M.E. says she was slapped around some before she was killed."
"Any of her belongings show up?"
"No."
"You release the body?"
"Yep. Local funeral parlor is shipping it to Boston for them."
"What do you know about Bernard J. Fortunate?" I said.
"Never heard of him," Romero said.
"He's in the phone book, no address. We'll get one from the phone company and check him out."
"He had a gun."
"I'll check him from that end too," Romero said.
"You want to call me in a couple days, I'll let you know what I know."
"I'll probably go to Boston tomorrow," I said.
"Any problem?"
"No. I can find you if I need you."
"You talk to LAPD about Bibi Anaheim?"
"Yeah. They never heard of her," Romero said.
"Neither has anybody in Oregon. They do they'll let us know. You know anything about her? Maiden name? Where she grew up?"
I remembered the wry reference to marrying Marty after high school. Fairhaven High, 1977.
"No," I said and wasn't even sure exactly why I lied.