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At 4:30, I drove back to the Lafferty estate. As I pulled into the parking pad, I was happy to note Lucinda's car was gone. Rags was asleep in a wicker chair, but he roused himself to greet me, sitting at my feet politely while I rang the bell. When Freddy let me in, Rags took the opportunity to slip inside. He followed as Freddy led me to the library where Nord was entrenched on the sofa, propped up against a mass of bed pillows and covered with a throw. He said, "I had Freddy bring me down. I couldn't stand another minute upstairs." Rags jumped up on the sofa, walked the length of Nord's body, and sniffed at his breath.
I said, "You look better. You have some color in your cheeks."
"It's temporary, but I'll take what I can get. I'm assuming you've learned something or you wouldn't be back so soon."
I told him about the gasoline receipt and my drive to Perdido, where I'd been directed to the card parlor. I related the report I'd had about her poker losses Monday night. I couldn't see any point in plaguing him with the suspicion that she'd stolen twenty-five thousand dollars so I left that part out. "Reba mentioned a stripper named Misty Raine, a former cellmate of hers. Apparently, Misty moved to Reno after she got off parole. I'm thinking if Reba's caught up in gambling, it'd be smart to scout out a place where she could also lay low -"
"In which case she might try hooking up with this friend," Nord said, idly stroking the cat.
"Right. That way, instead of laying out money for a room, she could drop it all at the tables and hope for some return. According to directory assistance, there is an 'M. Raine' in Reno, with no published address."
"But wouldn't traveling to Reno be a violation of her parole?"
"So's the gambling," I said. "There's always the possibility she'll come back before she's missed, but I hate to see her take the chance. Has she been to Reno before?"
"Often," Nord said. "But how can you be sure she's there? Her friend isn't likely to admit to it."
"That's my thought, too. Reba didn't mention Reno?"
"She never said a word."
"What about the phone company? I've been wondering if you could ask about any long-distance calls in the past seven days. A match on Misty's number would at least suggest the two have been in touch."
"I can try."
I rounded up the phone book and dialed the number for him, taking him as far as the billing department before I handed him the phone. He identified himself by name and phone number and explained what he wanted. In the most glib and convincing ma
"I have a police pal and I'm hoping he can help."
Chapter 25
By the time I left Nord's it was close to 5:00. There was no point returning to the office so I headed for home. I let myself into my place and tossed my bag on a chair. Cheney had left two cranky messages wanting to know where the hell Reba was as she'd missed her 1:00 appointment with Vince and her 4:00 meeting with the FBI. I called Cheney's pager, punched in my number, and waited for the phone to ring, which it did ten minutes later.
"You called?"
"I need a favor. Can you check a phone number in Reno and get me an address?"
"Who for?"
"A friend of a friend."
"Is this about Reba?"
"Who else?"
He thought about it briefly. "She's already in more trouble than she knows. If she's up there, the best thing for all of us is to have Reno PD pick her up."
"That's one approach," I said. "On the other hand, you still need her cooperation. I'm thinking about driving up to Reno and talking her into coming back – assuming I can find her."
"Does Holloway know she's gone?"
"I doubt it, but Reba doesn't see her until Monday, which means we have five days before she'll be missed. I'd hate to do anything behind Priscilla's back so you can tell her if you like. Or…"
"Or what?"
"You can run it by your IRS buddies and see what they have to say. Maybe her value to them takes precedence and they can square it with her PO. There's plenty of time to tell Priscilla once Reba's been debriefed."
"Give me the number in Reno and I'll get back to you."
"Why don't you talk to Vince first and then I'll give you the number. We can work it out from there."
"You don't trust me?"
"Of course I trust you. He's the one I'm worried about."
"What about tonight? You want to meet me at Rosie's? I've got a couple of reports to write, but it shouldn't take me long."
"Sounds good."
"I'll be there in a bit."
I left my front door ajar and crossed the patio to Henry's. His kitchen door was open and I knocked on the frame. "Henry? It's me."
"Come on in. I'll be right there," he said.
He had a pot of homemade soup simmering on a back burner and I took that as a good sign. Henry seldom cooks or bakes when he's feeling down. His glass of Black Jack over ice was sitting on the kitchen table, the newspaper neatly folded and waiting in his rocking chair. A newly opened bottle of Chardo
"Thanks. I have all the time you need. I've been feeling out of touch. How are you?"
"I'm fine, thanks. What about you?" He resumed his seat in the rocking chair and took a sip of his drink.
"I'm good," I said. "Now that we've cleared that pithy matter, you want to tell me what's on your mind?"
He smiled. "Here's what I've been considering. I don't think there's any remedy for my relationship with Mattie. At the moment, she's calling the shots and I don't feel I can impose if she's not interested. That's the way of the world. We didn't know each other long and there are all kinds of reasons it couldn't work – age, geography – the particulars aren't relevant. What I realize is I enjoyed having someone in my life. It put a spring in my step, even at the age of eighty-seven. So I've been thinking it wouldn't be such a terrible idea to make a phone call or two. There were several women on the cruise who seemed lively and nice. Mattie may be one of a kind, but that's beside the point." He paused. "That's as far as I got, but I'd be interested in your thoughts on the matter."
"I think it sounds great. I remember after you got home, you had all kinds of women leaving messages on your machine."
"Embarrassed me."
"Why?"
"I'm old-fashioned. I was taught men should be the pursuers, not the other way around."
"Times have changed."
"For the better?"
"Perhaps. You meet someone you like, why not make an effort? There's nothing wrong with that. If it works, it works, and if it doesn't, oh well."
"That's what I've been thinking. There's a woman named Isabelle, who lives here in town. She's eighty, which is a little closer to my age. She loves to dance, which I haven't done for ages. And another woman, Charlotte. She's seventy-eight and still active in real estate. She lives in Olvidado, close enough," he said. "You think one at a time might be good?"
"Nothing wrong with both. Get your feet wet. The more the merrier."
"Good. Then that's what I'll do." He clicked his glass against mine. "Wish me luck."