Chance

by Robert B. Parker

  I was quiet. She sat thinking back, looking past me at the lush artifice of the Las Vegas restaurant and probably not seeing it.

  "And then Anthony came along," I said after a while.

  "Funny thing," she said.

  "Marty introduced us. He never did that, you know, but he introduced me to Anthony. Figured Anthony was safe, I guess. He's not a tough guy like Marty. And he was married to Julius Ventura's daughter. I guess Marty never thought Anthony would be the one."

  "He was a friend of Marty's?"

  "Marty had a lot of guys hang around him. I don't think he had any friends. Everybody was scared of him."

  "So what was his relationship with Anthony?"

  She sat staring past me as if she hadn't heard me and then her eyes came slowly onto my face.

  "You scared of Marty?"

  "No."

  She kept her eyes on me for a while. Then she nodded her head slowly.

  "No, maybe you're not," she said, still looking at me.

  "But you should be."

  I waited.

  "Marty and Anthony had some deal going," she said, finally.

  "Do you know what it was?"

  "No."

  "Was Gino involved?" I said.

  "I don't think so."

  "I assume the deal is now off," I said.

  She nodded.

  "Marty finds out you're here, what happens?" I said.

  "He'll kill Anthony. Probably with his hands. Marty likes that.

  And he'll take me home and beat the shit out of me and it'll be like it was. Except this time he'll probably hurt me worse."

  "We'll have to see to it that he doesn't do that," I said.

  "Can Anthony stand up to him?"

  "Oh, God no," Bibi said.

  "Nobody can."

  "Somebody can," I said.

  "You love Anthony?"

  She made the bitter laugh sound again.

  "Better than Marty."

  "And he was a way out," I said.

  "He was. Now it's all shot to hell," Bibi said.

  "He's gotta break the bank or whatever he thinks he's going to do, and we sit here and wait until he does it, and now the stupid wife shows up and gets killed and Marty will hear about it and know I'm out here and find us and…"

  She shrugged.

  "Or not," I said.

  She shook her head.

  "There's no or not," she said.

  "You can't stop him. He'll find me and do what he's going to do and no one will stop him. Nobody can."

  "I might stop him," I said.

  She shook her head, and kept shaking it, slowly back and forth.

  Tears formed in her eyes and came down her cheeks. She lowered her head, and I could no longer see the tears but I could see her shoulders shake. I put a hand out on top of hers. She didn't move except for her head swaying back and forth and her shoulders shaking. I guess she didn't believe me.

  CHAPTER 23

  I was sitting at the bar drinking club soda, watching the gamblers, and thinking of the Kipling poem… something about piling all you own on a single bet and losing and smiling and walking away. Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, and which is more you'll be a Man, my son. Kipling had never been to Vegas. I was drinking club soda because in recent years beer in the middle of the day made me sleepy.

  I didn't want to be sitting at the bar in the middle of the day, wide awake, drinking club soda and thinking of poetry. But I didn't know what else to do, and at least this way I could keep an eye on Anthony Meeker while he mourned his wife at the blackjack tables. I knew Julius would show up to take his daughter home. I figured sooner or later Marty Anaheim would show up to straighten out his marital circumstances. The Vegas cops might or might not catch whoever murdered Shirley. Hawk would or would not spot someone at the MGM Grand which would explain why Shirley had the number written down.

  I wondered if I was still employed. The question of returning Anthony to his wife was no longer pressing. Murder spilt a lot of milk. And if Julius really had wanted me to find Anthony before word got out that he skimmed some money, it was too late, that probably being some of the milk that was spilt. I wondered if the stolen money was part of Anthony's deal with Marty Anaheim.

  Gino's visit to my office made me think that something was wrong between Gino and Marty.

  I fed a dollar coin into the poker machine at the bar and won ten dollars. I fed the money back into the machine mindlessly until I lost it. It wasn't that I liked to gamble. Gambling mostly bored me. I just had nothing else to do and I didn't want all those dollar coins clanking around in my pocket. Eventually I managed to get rid of about thirty dollars. The bartender asked if I wanted another roll.

  "No thanks," I said.

  "I've got to let my pulse rate settle."

  The bartender put a fresh club soda on the bar in front of me.

  "On the house," he said.

  "I'm supposed to cozy up to the high rollers."

  "You've got a real instinct for the job," I said, as Hawk slid onto the bar stool next to me.

  The bartender looked at him. Hawk shook his head.

  "Marty Anaheim," Hawk said.

  "At the Grand?"

  "Yeah. Little guy's been tailing Anthony is with him."

  "Okay, that answers one question," I said.

  "Cops find where Shirley staying?" Hawk said.

  "No," I said.

  "I called Romero this morning. As far as they can tell she wasn't registered anywhere."

  "So where's her luggage?"

  "Romero says maybe she didn't have any."

  "Romero ever travel with a woman?" Hawk said.

  "I asked him that. He admitted that mostly they bring luggage."

  "So where is it."

  "They don't know. They figure the murderer stole it."

  "A woman's luggage?" Hawk said.

  "You knew Shirley, would she have luggage?"

  "She'd have luggage like Susan has luggage."

  "So our guy rapes this woman," Hawk said.

  "And strangles her, and then runs off carrying her handbag and three, four pieces of luggage?" Hawk said.

  "Or," I said.

  "He rapes her and kills her someplace else and carries her nude body to a vacant lot and drops it."

  "And your card, 'less she still clutching it in her lifeless hand and he don't notice."

  I sipped some club soda. The slot machines chanted their endless song in the background. There was very little night and day in Vegas. There were no windows in the casinos, no clocks, no closing time, no last call. Only if you went outside, for which there was very little reason, or waited at your window for the volcano to erupt, did day or night matter.

  "He wanted to prevent her identification," I said.

  "Un huh."

  "And went to a lot of trouble to do it," I said.

  "Un huh."

  "Which means he can be tied to her. Otherwise why bother?"

  "Which mean the finger of suspicion point to Anthony," Hawk said.

  "Or Marty Anaheim."

  "Marty ain't tied to her."

  "So why'd she have the number for me and The Mirage and the MGM Grand written on the back of my card?" I said.

  "Got any tighter fix on time of death?" Hawk said.

  "Cops say no. Anytime that night before she was found."

  "I got Anthony until four-fifteen," Hawk said.

  "And his girlfriend says he was with her the rest of the night."

  "

  "Course she might lie."

  "She might. She's Marty Anaheim's wife."

  Hawk stared at me for a moment, which was as much surprise as he ever showed.

  "Anthony got a death wish," Hawk said.

  "Marty and Anthony had some kind of deal going."

  "Did it include Mrs. Anaheim?"

  "No, he ran off with her after, as far as I can tell, double crossing Marty."

  "Be quicker for Anthony," Hawk said, "he just step
ped in front of a train."

  "And more pleasant," I said.

  "How's he doing?"

  "Don't know," I said.

  "Right now I think he's counting, and betting progressively."

  "If he loses doubling the last bet?" Hawk said.

  "Something like that," I said.

  "I don't study his technique."

  "He'll find a way to lose," Hawk said.

  "Anybody double-cross Marty Anaheim and run off with his wife knows how to lose."

  I sipped a little more club soda. Refreshing. Hawk gazed absently at Anthony Meeker across the room at one of the blackjack tables. He was dressed today in a black blazer and a white silk shirt with vertical black stripes like a successful referee.

  "Cops still holding out for a random rape and murder?" Hawk said.

  "I doubt it. They don't like to complicate things if they don't have to, but Romero doesn't seem stupid to me. Of course they'd have a better chance if I told them all I know."

  "Why don't you?"

  "I'm trying to protect our client," I said.

  "And I'm trying to figure out who did what to whom before I sic the cops on them."

  "Just who is our client," Hawk said.

  "And why we still working for him? Shirley's dead and Julius knows where Anthony is."

  "Well, we can't let Marty Anaheim run around loose here," I said.

  "Why not?"

  "His wife took off with Anthony because Marty abused her," I said.

  "You're surprised Marty Anaheim would abuse his wife?" Hawk said.

  "He'll abuse her more if he finds her here."

  "So we working for her now?" Hawk said.

  "She hasn't hired us. But I sort of told her we wouldn't let Marty get her."

  "Sure you did," Hawk said.

  "She's probably good looking and sad and you do four or five back flips and say we gonna eat Marty's lunch for him, he comes near her."

  "I didn't do that many back flips," I said.

  Hawk signaled to the bartender and ordered a glass of champagne.

  "Marty Anaheim," he said thoughtfully, "is the meanest man I ever knew. He lost his hands, he'd bite you to death."

  I didn't say anything.

  "Marty Anaheim," Hawk said again, shaking his head slowly.

  I shrugged.

  The champagne arrived. Hawk drank half of it, and toasted me with the remainder.

  "You often been a headache," he said.

  "But, babe, you never been a bore."

  CHAPTER 24

  I was in my room reading Simon Schama's new book about landscapes when Anthony called me. "Spenser," he said, "get up here."

  "You're awful bossy, Anthony, for a guy who's not paying me."

  "For God's sake," Anthony said, "Julius is here."

  "With you?" I said.

  "In the hotel. He called me on the house phone, but I wouldn't tell him where my room was."

  "What was his posture?" I said.

  "What?"

  "How was he acting?"

  "He said he was going to kill me."

  "Oh," I said.

  "That posture."

  "So get Hawk and get your asses up here," Anthony said.

  I indulged a cruel streak.

  "Did you know Marty Anaheim was in town too?" I said.

  "Marty?"

  "Yeah. He's staying down the Strip."

  "Oh my God," Anthony said.

  His voice was very small. I heard the murmur of another voice in the background and Anthony's voice, muffled, as if his hand were over the mouthpiece, saying Marty's here, and a louder murmur and Anthony's voice saying, "For cris sake Bibi," then his voice on the phone again.

  "You and Hawk said you'd protect me," he said.

  "You gotta come up right now."

  "Stay in your room," I said.

  "We'll be along."

  When we got there Anthony was drinking scotch out of a short fat glass. His coat was off, his dark blue linen shirt was unbuttoned nearly to the waist. The cuffs too were unbuttoned. Bibi sat on the couch, hugging her knees, her back wedged into the angle of the arm. Her feet were bare. She had on designer jeans and a white sleeveless top.

  "So tell me about Julius," I said.

  "Fuck Julius," Anthony said.

  "Where's Marty Anaheim?"

  "MGM Grand," I said.

  "How do you know?"

  "I saw him," Hawk said.

  "You know he's staying there?"

  "Seems likely," Hawk said.

  "He coming out of the guest elevators when I spotted him."

  "Maybe he was just visiting somebody?"

  "Maybe," Hawk said.

  "What difference does it make?" I said.

  "He's staying someplace. He's here in Vegas."

  "Yeah, yeah. Of course. Right. What difference does it make.

  You haven't seen him here, in this place?"

  Hawk shook his head.

  "Step at a time," I said.

  "Far as we know, Marty doesn't know where you're staying. Julius does. Tell me about Julius."

  "You think Marty's here looking for me, though."

  "Center of attention," I said.

  "Tell me about Julius."

  "Oh God," Anthony said.

  He finished his scotch, went to the ice bucket on the table, put a handful of ice in his glass, and poured more scotch over it. Bibi continued to watch us, peeking over her clenched knees. Hawk leaned on the wall near the door. I waited, standing in front of Bibi. While I waited I patted her knee. My father used to do that, give me a pat once in a while, without comment. Anthony drank some more scotch.

  "Julius blames me for Shirley's death," Anthony said.

  I nodded.

  "Said if I hadn't run off like I did she'd be alive today."

  I nodded.

  "Hey, it's too bad somebody killed her, but I ain't going to pretend she was like, you know, Meg Ryan or somebody. I had to get away from her. I had to get a new start."

  "You could have killed her," I said.

  "I was right here with Bibi, you asked her yourself."

  I patted Bibi's knee again.

  "She might lie to protect you."

  "I was gonna kill her, would I wait till I got out here?"

  "You thought you were free and clear," I said.

  "You were winning, your system was working, and then she showed up. You could have done it."

  "For cris sake I thought you and him was gonna protect me."

  "Julius threaten you?" I said.

  "Yes. He said I was as good as dead."

  "Was he alone?" I said.

  "I dunno, I just talked to him on the fucking phone," Anthony said.

  He drank more scotch.

  "Probably he wasn't alone," I said.

  "Probably not," Hawk murmured.

  "So," I said.

  "How you want to handle this?"

  "Me?"

  "Yeah. It is, if you'll pardon the expression, your ass. I figure you might want some input in how to save it."

  "How much to eliminate them?"

  "Them?"

  "Both of them, Julius and Marty."

  "How about Gino Fish?" I said.

  "Don't you have some of his money?"

  "I don't know. That was Marty's part."

  "Part of what?"

  "Of our deal. I'll tell you about it later. Right now we got to get rid of the immediate threat."

  "By shooting it," I said.

  "Yeah. You guys are good. I've heard about you. Ten thousand each. Cash on the barrel head."

  I looked at Hawk.

  "On the barrel head," he said.

  "It's a nice idea," I said.

  "But it might turn into a career, we have to kill everybody you annoy."

  "No, no. Just these two guys. You want more than ten each.

  Okay. I can do that. You name it, I'll do what it takes."

  "We'll hold that option in reserve," I said, "until we talk with the o
ther principals."

  "Talk?"

  "Yeah. Hawk and I will go talk with Julius, see what he has in mind. Then maybe we'll find Marty, see what he's thinking, then we'll report back to you."

  Anthony drank some scotch as if it were an antidote to madness.

  "Talk?" he said.

  "Fucking talk? You can't talk to them, for God's sake. You try talking to them and they'll kill you, for cris sake and where the fuck does that leave me?"

  "Nice to be needed," I said.

  Bibi was sitting as she had been, motionless, her eyes seeming to grow larger and more empty as we talked.

  "You all right in this?" I said to her.

  "No," she said.

  "All I can do is sit here and wait for the men to do whatever they'll do. How all-right is that?"

  "We can get you out of this," I said.

  "Have you on a plane out of here in an hour."

  "To where?" she said.

  I didn't answer. I knew the question was rhetorical.

  "She stays," Anthony said.

  "She does what she wants to," I said.

  "I'll stay," Bibi said.

  Her voice was small and nearly empty. The words were its only content. I nodded.

  "Okay," I said.

  "Sit tight. No one knows quite where you are.

  There's two doors. This one and the one in the bedroom. Leave the door in the bedroom chained and bolted. Use the living room door.

  Check everybody through the peephole. No room service. No messages. No housekeeping services. Nobody but me or Hawk. There's trouble call hotel security."

  "You don't even know where his room is," Anthony said.

  "Maybe he's not even staying here, how you going to find him?"

  "He'll find me," I said.

  "Technically, he's still my client."

  "You going to sell me out to Julius," Anthony said. His voice was shrill.

  "You gonna leave me here and sell me out, like a goddamned sitting duck?"

  "You could call the cops," I said.

  "You guys are scared," Anthony said.

  "And you won't admit it.

  That's the fucking problem, isn't it? You're yellow."

  "Maybe we could shoot him," Hawk said, "and go get ten thousand from Julius."

  "Hell," I said, "we could double-dip. Get ten from Julius, get ten from Marty."

  "Hey," Anthony said.

  "Don't kid around, you know. This is a fucking life-or-death deal."

  "Ain't it always," I said.

  I patted Bibi's knee again and headed for the door.