Gumshoe for Two Page 5

  “I’ll be as long as I need to. Now stay put.”

  I went back inside and waited by the door for a full minute. The Holiday half of Holiday-Sarah didn’t come in, so I finally got to look around. Bar along the back wall, tables and chairs closer to the door, menus stuffed in metal racks on the dining tables, small casino set apart from the bar and restaurant—thirty slot machines, a single blackjack table. Twenty people were inside the building, nineteen of them male, which meant Holiday had better stay the hell outside like I’d told her.

  I sat at the bar, put a ten-spot and Allie’s picture in front of me, said, “Draft, dark,” when the bartender drifted over. Bald guy about my age with a one-inch beard, earrings, tattoos, a scar on his cheek. My scars were better, more recent. It would be a freezing-ass day in hell before I’d wear an earring, pierced or otherwise.

  I got the beer—Samuel Adams—he took the ten, set seven back on the bar, shoved the picture back at me with a finger, and said, “Haven’t seen her, man.” Then, “Holy Christ, that’s one hot babe.”

  Huh? A high school kid and this guy thinks she’s hot?

  Then I saw where he was looking. I turned on the stool in time to see Holiday arrive at the pool table, blond hair still windblown. She picked up a cue stick, two guys ogling her as if they hadn’t seen a woman in twenty years.

  Not like Holiday, they hadn’t.

  Aw, shit.

  I wandered over and said, “You about ready to head out, sugar plum?”

  “I’m a little dry after that drive. I could maybe use a drink.”

  “Well then, how ’bout we mosey on over to the bar and get you one, then mosey on out of here?”

  “Sounds like a plan.” She held up a picture of her sister to the two guys, a rough-looking pair in T-shirts, three-day beards, and long hair. After they’d dragged their eyes away from Holiday’s chest, they slowly shook their heads as if drugged.

  I pulled Holiday away. Forget Sarah. Sarah was gone. In that outfit, she was 99 percent Holiday Breeze even if there was a certain applicable word she didn’t like.

  “Sonofabitch,” I said, once we were outside and the pool guys hadn’t come running out to kick my ass and haul the maiden off to a cave in the hills. “Know what we learned in there?”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Not a damn thing.”

  “Those two guys haven’t seen Allie. I learned that.”

  “With you dressed like that, they wouldn’t have recognized her if they’d spent all last month with her on a beach in Acapulco.”

  She bit her lower lip and looked away. “Sorry.”

  “Well, shit.” I stared at the empty desert to the south. With no moon it was dead dark, a dry, infinite wasteland. We hadn’t gotten anywhere. And we didn’t have enough gas to get out of town, which pretty much put the next big problem front and center.

  Holiday-Sarah looked down at her feet, then said, hitting the nail on the head, “Looks like we better get a room, huh?”

  “Two rooms.”

  “Well, yeah, of course, that’s what I meant.”

  We walked over to the motel, found a wooden sign on a post, lit by a baby flood: FOR ROOMS, INQUIRE IN THE CASINO.

  “Stay put,” I told her.

  “Right.”

  “I mean it.”

  “Yeah. I got it, Mort.”

  “Sonofabitch,” I said. “Okay, c’mon. Just . . .”

  “Just what?”

  “I don’t know. Cross your arms over your chest or something.”

  “What I think you mean—my arms don’t really go across, they pretty much go under. Which”—she smiled—“sort of lifts.”

  Sonofabitch.

  Back inside at the bar I held Holiday’s arm and tucked her into my side, doing my best to hide her from the rest of the room.

  The bartender came over, gave her a quick once-over.

  “We need a couple of rooms,” I said. “At the motel.”

  “No can do. We’re full up.”

  “Full? You got nothing?”

  “Not a thing, man. It’s huntin’ season.”

  Perfect. I looked around the room, then back at the guy. “What if I came up with an extra fifty bucks?”

  “Don’t see how that would put another room on the motel.”

  “How about a hundred?”

  That slowed him down. He closed one eye and stared at the surface of the bar, doing some sort of intricate calculation. “I got a no-show on a reservation,” he said at last. “Said they’d be in at nine and it’s a little after ten now.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “They could still show up, though. Probably will, too.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I got a motor home out back.”

  “Uh-huh.” I figured I could keep this up as long as he could.

  “So if they show, I could put ’em in that, charge ’em half price, maybe only a third. They’d probably go for that.”

  He was getting there. Hundred-dollar tax-free bribe made a guy smarter, more flexible. I could’ve told a relevant IRS joke right then, but decided to keep it to myself. In the punch line, the IRS guy ends up getting a promotion. Damn good joke, but the timing wasn’t right.

  He looked around the room, then at me, then at Holiday, then back at me, which was a surprise since I wasn’t the main attraction. “That hundred. It’d have to be cash, man.”

  Of course.

  I dug out my wallet and came up with sixty-eight dollars. “Got any money?” I asked Holiday.

  “In my purse. I left it in the car.”

  “Go get it.”

  She went. The barkeep’s eyes tracked her all the way to the door. When she went out, he shook himself like a dog. “Man, that there’s one mind-blowing girl. If you don’t mind my sayin’.”

  “Nope.”

  “Two rooms?” He gave me a look. “You wanted two rooms? What the hell for?”

  “She snores.”

  “Don’t see that as an insurmountable problem, dude.”

  “Mouth open?”

  “Still don’t see it.”

  “And she leaves crumbs in bed.”

  He grinned. “Okay, yeah. Gotta draw the line somewhere.” He held up a fist and we bumped knuckles—pigs of a feather. “Name’s Dave,” he said. “But if you ever get tired of that snoring—”

  Holiday came back. She dug out two twenties and gave them to Dave. He pocketed five twenties then ran my credit card, sixty-two dollars for the room, handed Holiday the key. “Unit nineteen, next-to-last room at the far end.”

  I walked to the motel. Holiday drove the Audi over, parked in front of the room, got out, and opened the door to nineteen. I took a last look behind me, then followed her in.

  Generic seventies room. Cheap print on a wall, peeling walnut veneer desk and chair combo, tiny alcove closet, door in back to the bathroom, small television hung on a wall, heavy drapes, threadbare carpet, forty-watt bulb in a ceiling fixture full of dead bugs.

  And one bed, queen-size, with a sag in the middle.

  Sonofabitch.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SHE SAT ON the bed and bounced, all of her.

  Wonderful.

  I stuck my head in the bathroom, checked out the washbasin, toilet, shower, turned on a tap, got reasonably hot water in about ten seconds, then came back out.

  Holiday had kicked off her heels and unbuttoned her top. It hung loose but still covered her, more or less. She pursed her lips at the look I was giving her. “What?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Hey, I haven’t showered all day. This morning at school I took a fluid dynamics test and a structures test, then spent the afternoon looking up civil engineering case law crapola in the library.”

  “Fluid dynamics. And structures.”

  “Advanced trusses, if you want to know. So it’s been a long day and I feel gritty. I’m going to take a shower, if that’s all right with you.”

  “That’s fine. Terrific, actually
. But we’ve got some logistics to figure out here.” I got the room key off the table, just in case.

  “Yeah, like what?” She ran the zipper down on her jeans and started to work them over her hips. More skin started to show.

  “We’ll figure it out later.” I opened the door and stepped out into the night.

  I could explain all this to Jeri, no problem. She was an adult, a reasonable person, sophisticated. She would understand. No gas in town, we were lucky to get that one room, not my fault it had only one bed. Given all the facts, she wouldn’t have a problem with any of this. None at all.

  Then again, given the facts of the situation she might shove my head through the nearest available knothole and discuss this with me on the other side. We’d known each other for less than seven weeks, not a long time to end up engaged, not enough time to have learned all the little quirks and expectations of the other, especially a little quirk like Holiday.

  I sat at the bar in the casino, trying not to imagine Holiday wet, scrubbing off the day’s grit in the shower.

  Dave strolled over. “Man, that was quick.”

  “You think? How ’bout another beer? Same thing.”

  He ran a tap and slid the glass in front of me. “On the house. First prize. You deserve it.”

  “You have no idea.” I raised the glass to him, then drained half before setting it down.

  A big guy in a flannel shirt, blue jeans, and boots came in, took a stool next to mine. About sixty, weathered, full head of gray hair, barrel chest. He had an automatic on his hip, looked like a 1911 .45—a serious gun. He tapped the bar with a finger, signaling for his usual. Dave poured him a whiskey, neat.

  You’ve got to admire a guy who can hold his liquor and fire a weapon of that size. I thought about getting up and putting a dozen people between him and me.

  “Oughta show the sheriff here that picture,” Dave said.

  The guy turned to me. “Deputy sheriff. County sheriff’s down in Reno.” He stuck out a big calloused hand. “Mike Roup, Deppity.”

  “Mort, PI.”

  We shook. His hand felt like old leather.

  “Mort,” he said, giving me a closer look. “Mortimer Angel. I’ll be a son of a gun. You’re the guy found those heads down in Reno a month or two ago.”

  “Guilty as charged.” I like to say that, add a little uncertainty to the conversation.

  He laughed, hit his drink, then glanced at Dave. “What picture?”

  I showed him Allie’s high school photo. He gave it a good long look, fifteen, twenty seconds, then he set it on the bar between us. “How old’s the picture? What’s her name?”

  “Allie. Allison Dellario. Picture might be two years old. About that. You seen her around?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Over at the Texaco this evening. Would’ve been about seven-thirty, maybe eight. Closer to eight, I’d say. Girl in a Mercedes SUV, passenger seat. Blond girl, anyway. Young like that. But it was getting on toward dark, and I was just passing by in the cruiser, comin’ in from Empire. I got maybe a one-second look, if that, but it could’ve been her.”

  “She was in the passenger seat?”

  “Uh-huh. Lady was outside, pumping gas. Older, looked to be in her mid to late thirties. Taller than average, seemed like. Slender. Shoulder-length dark hair. Dark pants, light-colored windbreaker.”

  “Pretty decent description.”

  “Don’t see many hundred-thousand-dollar SUVs ’round here. It was this year’s model, too. I pay attention, keep my eyes open. That’s a lot of what I do around here.”

  “They still in town?”

  “Nope. I’d know it if they were. Town here has about as many people as a crowded Burger King. Few more than that right now, though, with all the hunters.”

  “What color SUV?”

  “Dark green. Real nice color. Forest-green but with a kind of metallic sheen to it. Thing was a G550. Big-ass engine. Probably couldn’t catch it in my cruiser if we both went flat out. All I’ve got is two hundred sixty-five horsepower.”

  “Did you see which way they went when they left?”

  “Nope. Hank might’ve.”

  “Hank?”

  “Guy owns the Texaco. Hank Waldo.”

  “Speaking of which. I don’t suppose there’s any chance I could get some gas over there?”

  “Tonight?” He laughed. “About now, Hank’ll be passed out in his trailer, or gettin’ that way. Be surprised if he can stand up.”

  “Figures. Evening’s been like that.”

  Dave spoke up. “If you got yourself some gas and took off, my faith in humanity would drop to absolute fuckin’ zero.”

  Mike Roup gave Dave a look. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  “You oughta see what he’s got over in nineteen. Which makes me wonder what the hell you’re doing here,” he said, staring at me like I was the world’s dumbest shit.

  “What if she’s my sister?” I said.

  “Oh, Christ, don’t tell me that. Do not tell me that. I’d have to go out back and shoot myself.”

  Corti’s was set up like a sports bar, restaurant, and casino, all in one. Four televisions were on, only one with sound. The one over the bar was silent, but I saw a clip of Senator Reinhart getting out of a limo on his way into his Las Vegas campaign headquarters. For a moment I thought he’d turned up, but then a talking head belonging to Rachel Valencia, Channel 4, mouthed words from a teleprompter while the words STILL MISSING flashed on a screen behind her. So a presidential candidate and the nation’s one honest senator hadn’t turned up yet, teeth blazing in a big Jimmy Carter smile. Good deal.

  “If you gotta have gas, really have to,” Deputy Roup said, “I got county gas over at the lockup I’m allowed to sell. It’s damned expensive though. I gotta charge eight bucks a gallon.”

  “Do that and I’ll never serve you again,” Dave said to Roup.

  “Why’s that?”

  “You still haven’t seen what he’s got over in nineteen.”

  “Well, okay, then,” Roup said to me. “You’re outta luck. I got no gas either.”

  So Holiday and I weren’t stuck here. Fact is, we never were. I could have asked around, got a few guys to let me siphon a few gallons from their trucks for a little cash. We could’ve made it back to Fernley and stayed at a motel with more than one room. But that felt dumb. We’d made it to Gerlach; it seemed pointless to leave, drive eighty miles south then eighty miles back in the morning even if I had to bribe Dave with that hundred dollars. If we’d done that, I would’ve missed out on the opportunity to ask around about Allie this evening, which had—possibly—borne fruit. Allie might’ve been at the Texaco station in a dark green Mercedes SUV earlier this evening. That interrupted phone call hadn’t ended in a cry for help or a shriek. It had ended abruptly, with a little chirp of surprise and, “Hey, what—?” as if the phone had been taken away from her, which could have been for any number of reasons. Allie might not be in trouble. But she might be. So here we were, Sarah—or Holiday—and I, in the last room in town. I was going to have to explain all this to Jeri, but I didn’t see that as a problem—at least, not a big problem. It hadn’t been my idea for Holiday-Sarah to pop out of her clothes the minute we got in the room. And I could keep that sort of thing under control. I already had a plan, good one, too. Anyway, leaving wasn’t an option. Allie might still show up. If not, come morning I had to talk to Texaco Hank.

  “Longer you’re here and not in that room over there, stud, the more I’m thinkin’ you’re twelve ways a moron,” Dave said to me, elbows on the bar. “No offense.”

  “None taken.” I stood up. “Gotta go. She’s liable to get dressed and come back over here.”

  “In that outfit she was wearing? Hold on there, pardner. Set a spell. Have another beer, on the house.”

  I went outside. Voices came through the night, then a woman’s distant laugh. An eighteen-wheeler rolled by on the highway, headed north. A dark Merced
es SUV went by, headed south.

  I stared at it.

  A Mercedes SUV. It might’ve been dark green. Hard to tell in that light. No way to see how many people were inside.

  What were the odds? Did it mean anything? If I chased it down, what then? Honk at it, try to get it to stop? And what would I chase it with? A car about out of gas?

  I went back in the casino.

  “Man, that was quick,” Dave said, grinning. The jerk.

  “A Mercedes SUV just went by,” I said to Deputy Roup.

  He half-turned on the stool and looked at me. “Uh-huh. They do that.”

  “Any chance you could chase it down?”

  “Turns out, it’s not illegal to drive through town here. Unless it was speeding or weaving or hit something. See anything like that?”

  To lie or not to lie, that was the question. “No,” I said.

  “Well then.” He faced the bar and picked up his drink.

  I stared at him for a moment, then left.

  Holiday was in bed when I walked in. She gave me a benign smile and said howdy. She’d settled down. The covers were pulled up high enough that I figured Sarah was back. If so, maybe I could grab a quick shower and scrub off the day.

  “So,” she said. “What was that about logistics?”

  “Never mind. I’ve got it worked out.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “Great, tell me how.”

  She sat up and the covers tumbled down, so that was it for my shower. However, it simplified the logistics. I found a spare blanket on a shelf in the mini-closet, then went to the door. “Sleep tight,” I said.

  “Hey!”

  Man, that girl was lightning on her feet. She had a hand on my wrist before I could get one foot out the door. No top, but at least she was wearing panties.

  “What the hell are you doin’?” she said.

  “Camping out.” I unpeeled her grip and went out, got the door shut, and went to her car. I got in on the passenger side and reclined the seat, arranged the blanket over me, then waited for trouble.

  Which took all of twenty-four seconds, then she was out in her panties and her hooker top with one button fixed in the wrong hole, feet bare. She yanked the door open on my side.