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I kept the Ford Fairlane in view, allowing as big a lead as I could give her without losing sight of her altogether. There were fewer cars on the road now and many of the storefronts were dark. The big casinos were still doing a lively business. Misty pulled up to the front entrance to the Silverado Hotel. The wide overhang that stretched across the eight-lane drive was so densely studded with lightbulbs that the air seemed to shimmer with artificial heat. Misty got out of the car and handed the keys to a valet. The big glass doors opened and closed automatically as she approached and disappeared inside.
There were two vehicles in line between her car and mine. I leaped out and tossed my keys to an irritated-looking valet who'd been chatting with a pal. "Could you keep the car close? There's a twenty in it for you. I shouldn't be long."
Without waiting for a reply I trotted toward the front doors and entered the vast lobby, which was sparsely populated at that hour. I did a quick survey. There was no sign of Misty. She could have slipped into a waiting elevator, into the ladies' room to my right, or into the casino dead ahead. Pick one, I thought. As I moved into the casino, smoke settled around me like a delicate mantilla. The silvery pings and grace notes from the slots were like a series of falling coins, the chirping of money as it trickled down the drain. Aisles ran in grids between the slot machines, the faces of which glowed bright red, green, yellow, and a saturated blue. I was struck by the patience of the few late-night players – like ants tending aphids on the underside of a leaf.
As I walked, I was glancing right and left, looking for Misty, whose height and black hair would surely set her apart. Toward the rear there were restaurants. I could see a coffee shop, a sushi bar, a pizza parlor, and an "authentic" Italian bistro offering six kinds of pasta and a variety of sauces, complete with Caesar salad, for $2.99.1 spotted Misty in the lounge, though my gaze slid right past her at first and touched on the man who sat across the table from her. He was red-haired and gaunt, his complexion ruddy and pitted with acne scars. Neither saw me. I eased into the lounge, which was open on two sides. I sat at the bar some distance away, watching as the two conferred. The bartender ambled over and I ordered a glass of Chardo
Out on the casino floor a great whooping and hollering went up, and shortly thereafter a party of five women came in, drunk and triumphant. One flourished a bucket of quarters, having won a five-hundred-dollar jackpot. My line of vision was obscured by their boisterous presence, but they provided me cover. I watched Misty engaged in a lengthy discussion with the man, leaning forward intently as the two examined something on the table in front of them. Finally, satisfied, she passed him a fat white number 10 envelope that I was betting contained a wad of cash. In exchange, he returned the item to a manila mailing pouch and handed it to her. I watched as she shoved it in her oversize purse. I tossed a five-dollar bill next to my empty glass and got up, leaving the bar in anticipation of her departure. I paused near the elevators, sliding a glance in her direction as she passed me and hurried toward the door. I followed in her wake.
She gave the valet parker her ticket, and while she waited for her car, I angled left, keeping my head turned and my back to her. My car was parked near the entrance. I reclaimed my keys, tipped the valet, and slid under the wheel. Two minutes later, her car rolled into view and the valet hopped out. She handed him a tip and took his place under the wheel. I watched her exit the lot. I eased in behind her, this time with only one car between. Once I was convinced she was on her way home, I took a left and sped along a parallel course. I arrived moments before she did. I killed my lights and slouched in my seat, eyes barely clearing the steering wheel. She turned into her drive as she had before, parked, crossed to her front door, and went in.
The front light went out. I sat there for a minute, sorely tempted to return to my motel and crawl into bed. Surely she was in for the night, or what little was left of it. I was tired, I was bored, and I was hungry again. I pictured breakfast in a twenty-four-hour coffee shop: orange juice, bacon and scrambled eggs, buttered rye toast covered with strawberry jam. Then sleep. There had never been any guarantee that Reba was in Reno. I'd taken the chance because it made sense, given what I knew of her. The two of them had certainly been in touch – why else would her number show up on Nord Lafferty's telephone bill? But that hardly spoke to the issue of her present whereabouts. I sat up, staring at Misty's half-darkened house and the narrow line of light ru
Why park in the driveway when she had a garage right there in front of her? In one of those unexpected jolts, I was clunked in the noggin by the obvious. If Misty were alone, «she probably wouldn't need two bulging bags of groceries or a carton of smokes. The groceries might have represented her weekly run, but the woman didn't smoke. In the time we'd spent chatting, most smokers would have found an excuse to light up. It was actually that thin line of light at the bottom of the garage door that made me curious. I got out of the car and crossed the street.
Chapter 27
I checked the garage windows first. Nicks in the brown paint that covered the glass revealed a makeshift guest room: a chair, a chest of drawers, a double bed, and a lamp sitting on an end table fashioned from a cardboard box. The disheveled linens suggested current occupancy, as did the red cotton sweater flung at the bottom of the bed, which I recognized as Reba's. A hard-sided gray suitcase lay open on the floor near the chest of drawers. The duffel was unzipped on the chair, clothes spilling out.
I circled the house as I had before. The pull latch on the wooden gate made scarcely a sound as I moved into the backyard and approached the lighted window. I ducked and came up at an angle, peering over the sill. Reba and Misty sat together at the desk with their backs to me. I couldn't see what they were doing and their voices were too muffled to discern the topic of conversation, but it was sufficient for the moment to know that Reba was in range.
Here was the question I asked myself: did I dare go back to my motel without confronting them? I was desperate for sleep, but I worried if I waited until morning, one or both of the women would be gone. Of course, I'd be facing the same dilemma anytime I let Reba out of my sight. For the moment, I was reluctant to give up the only advantage I had, which was that I knew where she was, but she didn't know that I knew.
Blessedly, as I watched, Misty gathered up the items they'd been inspecting and tucked them into the mailing pouch I'd seen earlier. Reba left the room and Misty followed, flicking the light switch as she passed. I made my way to the front of the house and hovered in the shadow of the evergreens. Ten minutes later, the living room light went out. I eased across the front of the house to the drive. Another fifteen minutes passed and then the line of light under the garage door was extinguished as well. I figured my little chickadees were in for the night.
I drove back to my motel through a city that was wide awake but quiet. The sun wouldn't be up for another hour or so, but the sky had already lightened to a pearly gray. I parked, took the stairs to the second floor, and unlocked my door. The room was drab but clean enough, as long as you didn't use a black light or get down on your hands and knees with a magnifying glass. I peeled off my clothes and took a good hot shower, then did what I could to secure the drapes across the window. The fabric was a heavyweight plastic, dark red, and very tastefully flocked. Add to that, vinyl wallpaper with its lightning bolts of silver and black, and you had a most amazing decor. I pulled back the pink chenille spread and settled between the sheets, turned off the lights, and slept like the dead.