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.
"Grand, just like everything else in the fucking case nowhere to look and nothing to do."
Romero got up and got some more coffee from the coffeemaker in the squad room. He looked at me. I shook my head. He came back in with the coffee and sat back down at his desk and put one foot up on his open bottom drawer and tilted his chair back a little.
"Talked to a homicide guy in L.A. named Samuelson." He blew on the black surface of the coffee for a moment and then took a sip.
"Says he knows you. Says hello."
"I screwed up a case with him once too," I said.
Romero shrugged and grinned at me.
"Shit happens," he said.
"Yeah," I said.
"Quite often."
CHAPTER 30
I was in my office with my feet up studying the way my name looked backwards through the frosted glass window of my office door. The office had been shut up since I left for Vegas, and I opened the Berkeley Street window to dilute the accumulated closeness. Then I started studying the door again. The mail had been routine and easily disposed of. There were no phone calls. Maybe SPENSER ought to be in script. A nice flowing script might make me seem lovable, and could contrast nicely with INVESTIGATIONS, which would be in a bold, no-nonsense sans serif. Maybe some sort of motto would be good. WE DON'T SOLVE ANYTHING BUT WE
GIVE OUR FEE AWAY.
The door opened and Susan came in with a large canvas tote bag with the PBS logo on it. "No patients?" I said.
"Teaching day," Susan said.
"But you sounded so down when you called last night that I canceled class and came over to welcome you home. What happened to your cheek?"
"Line of duty," I said.
"You think my name on the door would look good in script?"
"No."
"Nice bag," I said.
"Official Cambridge tote bag," she said.
She put the tote bag down on one of my empty client chairs and took a large thermos out of it. It was a tan and blue thing, the kind Dunkin' Donuts sells you with a starter fill of coffee. She put it on my desk.
"Decaf," she said.
"Thank God," I said.
A box of donuts came out next, and two plastic coffee cups and two pale pink linen napkins.
"You bought donuts?" I said.
"Yes."
"I wasn't aware you knew how."
"I don't. But I watched the other people in line."
I opened the box. Plain donuts. Perfect.
"Do you know how to eat a donut?" I said.
"I'll watch you on the first one," Susan said.
She opened the thermos and poured two cups of coffee into the plastic cups. I ate half a donut.
"Ugh," Susan said.
"Is that how it's done?"
"Girls sometimes take smaller bites," I said.
"I certainly hope so," Susan said.
She picked up one of the donuts between her thumb and forefinger and broke off a crumb and put the rest of the donut back. She took a bite of the crumb. I ate the other half of my first donut and drank some coffee, and looked at her. She had on some kind of expensive white tee-shirt, and jeans that fit her well, and some low black cowboy boots with silver trim. I always felt as if I breathed more deeply when I was looking at her, as if I were taking in more oxygen, and doing it more easily, as if the air were clearer.
"Welcome home," Susan said.
"Yes," I said.
"It went badly," Susan said.
"Mostly," I said, "it didn't go at all."
"You found Anthony Meeker," Susan said.
I shrugged.
"You couldn't prevent Shirley's death," Susan said.
"No."
"You weren't able to find who killed her."
"No."
"But you accept that, don't you."
"You can't solve every case," I said.
"You still don't know what was going on between Anthony and Marty Anaheim."
"No."
"But you accept that too, don't you."
"Lot of stuff I don't know," I said.
"And Anthony?"
"No one hired me to protect him," I said.
"No one hired me to keep him in Vegas."
"And Bibi?"
"Bibi never showed up in L.A."
"You think anything happened to her?"
"I don't know. Chollo didn't know what she looked like. She could have walked right on past him."
"Which she probably did," Susan said.
"From what you've told me, she had very little reason to trust men."
I shrugged again and had some donut. Susan smiled.
"I know."
"It's what's bothering you though, isn't it."
"It's all bothering me," I said.
"Hawk and I spent the last week or so wandering around Vegas without a clue."
"You found Anthony Meeker," Susan said.
"That is what you were hired to do."
"And I don't know where he is now, and I don't know who killed Shirley, and I don't know what was going on between Anthony and Marty, and I don't know why Gino Fish was so interested, and I don't know whether Julius was involved, and I don't know where Bibi is, or what's going to happen to her. She showed no signs of being able to fend for herself."
"You can't help people that don't want you to help them," Susan said.
"Thanks, Doc."
"You are a grown-up," Susan said.
"You know that as well as I do. We both do work that teaches us that lesson daily."
"True," I said.
We were quiet. I started on my third donut. Susan broke another microscopic fragment off her first one and ate some of it. The sound of the traffic floated up from Berkeley Street. Somewhere someone was making a hole in something hard. I could hear the faint sound of a jackhammer.
"What are you going to do now?" Susan said.
"There were a couple of things I back-burnered," I said, "while I went to Vegas. I'll see if I can resurrect one."
"Good to work," Susan said.
"Good to eat," I said.
"I'll always feed you," Susan said.
"Didn't you get a large sum of money recently? From some insurance company?"
"Yeah. A percentage of what I saved them. More money than I deserve. Actually, more money than anyone deserves, except Michael Jordan."
"So I don't have to feed you. You can take a little time off and pursue your hobbies if you wish to."
"You mean the Vegas thing?"
"Money is freedom," Susan said.
"I could go talk with Gino Fish again, see if he can tell me anything he didn't tell me before."
"No harm in that."
"No. Unless Gino finds it annoying and tells Vinnie Morris to shoot me."
"Would he shoot you?" Susan said.
"Depends."
"Would you shoot him?"
Chance Page 13