R is for Ricochet

"All the luck in the world." I leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

I sat in my favorite booth in Rosie's, the one in the rear where I can sip a glass of wine while I keep a close eye on the place. I've been a regular at the tavern for seven years and I still can't tell you the names of the day-drinkers or the other steady customers like me. Rosie's the only common thread, and I suspect if the other patrons and I compared notes, we all have the same complaint. We'd grouse at how she bullies us, but we'd all feel smug, seeing her mistreatment as a sign of just how special we are to her. William was working behind the bar. I'd stopped off on the way in and picked up the wine he poured when he saw me enter. He was busy, otherwise, I was certain, he'd have given me the latest in his medical reports.

Once settled, I took a sip of white wine so close to vinegar it was almost enough to make me swear off the stuff. Cheney had called back within minutes to tell me Vince was favoring the personal approach. He offered his blessings as long as he was given the contact number as well. I gave Cheney the number I'd picked up from Nord's telephone bill. I assumed Vince Turner would keep the information to himself, but I worried the FBI would get wind of what was going on and make trouble.

I put in another call to Nord to tell him I'd be taking off in the morning. He'd offered to underwrite the trip and I'd accepted, any charitable impulse quickly overridden by the need to pay my bills. I'd brought along a pocket atlas and I was flipping back and forth between Southern California and the western border of Nevada, considering my route. The obvious choice was to take Highway 101 to the 126, travel east as far as Highway 5, and then north to Sacramento, where I'd co

Before I hit the road, I'd make a stop at the auto club and get a proper series of strip maps. I really didn't need them, but I like the white spiral binding and that arrow pe

Beck slid into the booth across from me. "You seem happy to see me."

"I thought you were someone else." I took in the sight of him: chinos, dress shirt, with a windbreaker over it.

He laughed, thinking I was making a joke. Casually I closed the atlas and laid it on the seat beside me, then leaned to the right as though sca

"Not at all. That's why I stopped in. I'm trying to track her down." His eyes strayed to the atlas. "Are you taking a trip?"

"Just indulging in fantasy. I've got too much work piled up to go anywhere."

"Oh, that's right. You're a private detective. What are you working on?"

I knew he couldn't care less about my caseload unless it involved him. I figured he was fishing, wondering if I was part of the government conspiracy to reel him in. I said, "The usual. A skip-trace, a couple of employee background checks for the Bank of Santa Teresa. Stuff like that." I droned on for a bit, making it up as I went along. I could see his eyes glaze over and I hoped sincerely that I was boring him to death.

I looked up in time to see Rosie appear through the swinging kitchen doors. Her eyes lighted on Beck like a terrier spotting a rat. She made a beeline for the booth, barely able to suppress her happiness. Beck collected himself and rose to his feet. He extended a hand to her, then leaned forward and bussed her on the cheek. "Rosie, you look beautiful. You've had your hair done."

"I did myself. Is home permanent," she said.

As far as I could see, her hair looked the way it always did – badly dyed, badly cut.

She dropped her gaze modestly. "I'm remember what you want. Scotch. Double wit ice and water back. The twenty-fours year, not the twelve."

"Very good. No wonder your customers are loyal."

I thought she'd see through the flattery, but she lapped it up, nearly dropping a little curtsy before she scurried off to get his drink. He sat down again, watching her departure with a fond smile as though he really gave a shit. His gaze drifted back to mine. He was a cold, cold man. The missing twenty-five thousand had put him on red alert. He was out hunting to see who his enemies were.

I crossed my arms and leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. There was something restful about being in the company of someone I disliked so much. I didn't have to worry about impressing him, which allowed me to focus on the game at hand. "How was Panama City?"

"Fine. Good. The problems started as soon as I came home. A little birdie tells me you and Reba got into trouble while I was gone."

"Me? Well, dang. What'd I do now?"

"You don't know what I'm referring to?"

"We went shopping at the mall if that counts for anything."

"The pow-wow with Marty. What was that about?"

I blinked at him twice as though drawing a blank and then allowed the light to dawn. "Friday night? We ran into him at the mall. Once the stores closed down, we stopped in at Dale's and ordered a couple of bowls of that chili guaranteed to give you the runs. Geez, Louise. Have you ever eaten that crap? Completely gross -"

"Enough already. Just get on with it."

"Sorry. So anyway, about that time Marty came in. He was happy to see Reba. She introduced us and we chatted for a bit. End of story."

He seemed to watch me from a distance, not yet satisfied. "What'd you chat about?"

"Nothing in particular. I meet the guy. I'm nice. That's all it amounted to. Why do you care?"

"You didn't talk about me?"

"You? Not at all. Your name never came up."

"Then what?"

"What do you mean, 'Then what'?"

"Where'd you go from there?"

I shrugged. "The office. Marty was bragging about the new digs and said he'd show us around, so we ended up doing a quick tour. He said you'd be pissed if you heard. Is that what this is about?"

"I don't believe you've finished. Isn't there something else?"

"Well, let's see now. Oh. Now this is earth shattering. I left my purse on the roof and we had to pop back the next day and go in search of it. What a pain in the ass that was."

Rosie approached with Beck's scotch on a tray. We dropped the topic of conversation and smiled at her blandly while she set down a ceremonial doily and put his drink on it. Beck murmured his thanks without engaging her in further conversation.

She hesitated, hoping for another round of fawning and compliments, but he was intent on me. I was wishing she'd sit down and talk to us the rest of the night. Instead she flicked me a look, suspicious that this was romance a-brewing. Little did she know I was sitting there frantically assessing the situation, trying to guess how much Beck knew and how he'd acquired the information. If he'd seen security tapes, I had to make sure I accounted for all our comings and goings. I was aware my being a wiseass was getting on his nerves, but I couldn't help myself. Rosie manufactured a bit of small talk and then departed. I looked at Beck, waiting for his next move.

He picked up his scotch and took a sip, watching me over the rim of his glass. "Clever. You explain it all so nicely, but somehow I'd swear you're lying through your pearly whites."

"My reputation must precede me. I'm good at lying," I said.