"No, sir, going as fast as you were, it must not have seemed like a tap at all. Do you know how fast you were going?"

"No. I don't."

"The speed limit on that road is fifty-five."

"Is that so?"

"The truck driver said you were flying."

"I was trying to get away."

"From whom, Mr. Carl?"

"From the Camaro."

"I see. We are of course looking for the Camaro, leaving the scene of an accident is a very serious charge, but often we find in these types of incidents that both parties are somewhat at fault."

"I didn't do anything wrong."

"Maybe not, sir, but I'm going to have to ticket you for speeding nonetheless."

I bolted up off of the examination table and ignored the scream of pain in my back. "You're going to ticket me?"

"Yes, sir."

"I get run off the road and you ticket get run off the road and you ticket me me?"

Just then the doctor came back into the room. When he entered and saw me sitting straight up, he stopped short and gave me a stare. "Good to see you up and about, Mr. Carl."

My head grew suddenly woozy and I lay back down on the table. "I don't feel so well," I said.

"Is that so?" The doctor gave the officer a knowing look, and I thought, Hey, no flirting with my cop. "Everything looks fine," said the doctor. "Nothing broken, just bruising. I see no reason to keep you in the hospital, so we're releasing you."

I struggled slowly to sit up again. "What about my friend?"

"We're going to keep Miss Derringer overnight for observation. In addition to her broken wrist she's having headaches and might have a concussion. We'd like to be sure of her situation before we let her go."

"We took your luggage from the car, Mr. Carl," said the cop.

"And my briefcase?"

"Yes, that, too. You can pick it up as soon as you sign all the paperwork here. Is there anyone in Philadelphia you want me to call in reference to this murder you were talking about?"

She had a benign expression on her face, as if I were a lunatic she was trying to mollify. I thought of the discussion she would have with Stone and Breger, the three of them laughing together at my expense, and I involuntarily winced.

"No. No one."

"Good," she said. "I always strive to be thorough. This is for you."

She handed me a slip of paper and I knew without looking what it was.

"What happens if I just rip up the ticket and refuse to pay?" I said.

She gave a smile, a charming, heart-stopping smile, aimed at the doctor. "Then we hunt you down and kill you."

BETH HAD already been admitted as a patient. I took an elevator to the third floor and limped down the hallway to pay her a visit. It wasn't a big hospital, a white circular building on the eastern edge of Henderson, and it wasn't at all crowded. Beth's eyes were closed when I entered the room, her left arm with its shiny white cast rising and falling atop her stomach. I didn't want to wake her, so instead I stepped over and brushed away a lock of hair from her forehead. I don't know why I did that, it never does any good, the lock always falls back, but I did it, and it made me feel better, and maybe that's the reason right there. Whatever the cause of what happened, whether a simple accident or a brutal attempt on our lives, I still had been driving. She had been my charge, and I had failed her. already been admitted as a patient. I took an elevator to the third floor and limped down the hallway to pay her a visit. It wasn't a big hospital, a white circular building on the eastern edge of Henderson, and it wasn't at all crowded. Beth's eyes were closed when I entered the room, her left arm with its shiny white cast rising and falling atop her stomach. I didn't want to wake her, so instead I stepped over and brushed away a lock of hair from her forehead. I don't know why I did that, it never does any good, the lock always falls back, but I did it, and it made me feel better, and maybe that's the reason right there. Whatever the cause of what happened, whether a simple accident or a brutal attempt on our lives, I still had been driving. She had been my charge, and I had failed her.

I sat down beside her and waited. After a while I took out Hailey's phone and made some calls, pushing to the next afternoon our flight back to Philadelphia, reserving another night at the Flamingo, informing the rental-car agency of the little mishap and the total destruction of their automobile. When my calls were over, I sat and waited by Beth's bedside.

My family had disintegrated like an atom split, my old high school and college chums had drifted like driftwood, my law school cla.s.smates had gone on to promising careers and gladly left me behind, all but Guy, and we know how well that had turned out. I didn't have many people in this world with whom I had a mutual caring relationship. My father, maybe, though you could never tell by the tense words we pa.s.sed back and forth. My sometime private investigator Morris Kapustin, whom I was keeping far away from this case because he knew me too well and could see right through me, when right now I didn't want anyone seeing right through me. And there was Beth. Beth, my partner and best friend, the woman who shared my adventures, both financial and legal. There had been a time when we had contemplated something romantic happening between us, but it wasn't there, at least for me, the primal spark, and so we never tried it, and I am so glad. I am the Wile E. Coyote of romance, I keep chasing, keep chasing, only to end up, always, standing still in midair, the edge of the cliff behind me, the bomb in my hand, fuse burning low. But whatever tragedy befalls me, there has always been Beth to crack a joke and rub my neck and keep me from plunging into total despair. What would I do without her? The mere contemplation left me fighting tears.

"Hey, cowboy," she said. "Why so sad?"

Her eyes were open and she was smiling.

"I was imagining the worst and trying to calculate the price of new letterhead. How's the wrist?"

"I can't feel a thing with all the Novocain they pumped into it."

"How about your head?"

"It hurts so much I can't tell. Too bad they can't inject Novocain into the brain."

"You want the nurse?"

"Nah, not yet. They'll only give me more drugs, and you know how I am about drugs."

"Yes, I know. I'll go get her."

The nurse came in and checked the chart, took Beth's temp, and told her it wasn't time yet for her medication. Beth flirted, the nurse shook his head, Beth pouted, the nurse remained resolute, Beth pled, shedding all dignity, and finally the nurse said he'd ask the doctor. When the nurse came back with the little paper cup of pills, Beth gave me a triumphant smile.

"I should be ashamed of myself," she said. "When am I supposed to get out of here?"

"Tomorrow, if everything goes right. I changed our flight."

"I wonder if my head will explode at high alt.i.tude."

"Just in case, I booked a seat ten rows behind yours. That way I can see it happen without it ruining my jacket."

"Your lucky jacket. Is that why we survived?"

"Absolutely. Did you see what happened?"

"I suppose I did, but I don't remember." She closed her eyes and slowly opened them again. "I don't remember anything. Last thing I recall, we were driving into Henderson to talk to the name on the insurance doc.u.ment. And next thing, I was looking up at some really ugly man who was being very sweet and my arm really, really hurt."

"I think someone tried to kill us."

"Really? Who?"

"I don't know. Some guy in a white Camaro slammed me off the road. The cops think I was speeding and it was simply an accident."

"Were you?"

"Only after I spotted the Camaro coming after me."

"Do you think you only imagined it?"

"Maybe, but imagined or not, I'm through driving in this town, I'll tell you that. Last I saw, the car was slowly burning."

"I hope we still have the briefcase. I'd hate to have wasted the trip."

"The cop said the briefcase and the luggage are waiting for me in the hospital office."

"Did we meet the guy in Henderson?"

"Yes."

"Interesting?"

"Not really. Hailey's uncle. Do you need anything?"

"A toothbrush would be nice," she said. "I'd like to brush my teeth before I fall asleep again."

"Consider it done."

I stood, leaned over to kiss her on the forehead, and went off to find our luggage.

It was stacked behind the desk of an admittance clerk in one of the small cubicles they had off the lobby. An older woman smiled at me when I demanded my luggage and sweetly asked for my identification and insurance information. Very clever. They were holding our luggage hostage to our Blue Cross number. I thought of complaining, just for the sport of it, but the old lady with the sweet smile had the eyes of an IRS agent, and so, meekly, I took out my insurance card.

Ransom paid, I lugged our two suitcases and my briefcase into the lobby. I looked around furtively and then checked the briefcase to make sure everything was there. At first glance it all appeared to be in order. The photographs, the letters, the insurance file, the maroon medical file, the envelope in which I had stashed the cash, all there, all seemingly undisturbed. I let out a sigh of relief as I checked the details, one by one, the insurance file first. Guy's policy was still there, but...but Hailey's now was missing. d.a.m.n it. d.a.m.n d.a.m.n it. Quickly I pulled out the maroon folder. Where there should have been a medical file detailing the treatment of Juan Gonzalez, there was nothing, nothing. And then I noticed that the money envelope was sickeningly thin. Thirty thousand dollars, where was my d.a.m.n thirty thousand dollars? I ripped open the envelope and found not the sweet hundred-dollar bills but instead a single sc.r.a.p of paper with a note scrawled in a rough, barely legible hand.

Feeling like a little lamb?They braise a nice shank at the Bellagio.Nine o'clock reservation in your name.Jacket required. Bring your wallet.

It wasn't signed, but it didn't need to be. I knew who had written it, the same man who'd set up the accident, I now was certain, the same man who had in all likelihood killed Hailey Prouix.

Phil Frigging Skink.

27.

"WHERE THE f.u.c.k is my money, you scabrous piece of s.h.i.t?" f.u.c.k is my money, you scabrous piece of s.h.i.t?"

Skink was already sitting at a table, beside a thick gray curtain, beneath a painting of a naked woman with her hand demurely covering her crotch. The joint was papered with maroon velvet, the corners were graced with great metal urns filled with ivy and denuded branches in arresting arrays. The chairs, upholstered also in velvet, had large bra.s.s rings hanging from their backs. It felt, the Prime Steakhouse on the lower level of the Bellagio, Roman and gangsterish at the same time, a place where Tiberius Caesar and Sam Giancana could dine together on great chunks of charred oxen and laugh about conquered provinces and rigged elections. A place where grasping lieutenants who had skimmed the empire's profits could be taken care of with a single blow from a pepper mill the size of a baseball bat.

Sitting before Skink on the peach-colored tablecloth was a huge crystal sh.e.l.l filled with ice, covered with an array of plump fresh oysters. Skink eyed me calmly as he sucked out the insides of a nacreous sh.e.l.l. The maitre d' had brought me through the fabulously decadent dining room to the table and was standing aside as I ignored the proffered seat and confronted the slurping Skink to no great effect. It was disconcerting that Skink seemed to be enjoying himself immensely despite my rage. It was doubly disconcerting that he was wearing the same gold lame lucky jacket as I was.

"You're a bit late, Vic, so I hope you don't mind I started without you."

"I want my money and my doc.u.ments, and I want them now."

"We look like a backup singing group here, don't we, Vic? You and I in the same jacket, like a couple of Pips. Or maybe like two h.o.m.os.e.xual types with the same taste in clothes. I wonder if everyone here thinks we're a couple of poofs having ourselves a lover's spat."

"Hand it over."

"Calm down," he said. "Sit. Eat first, talk later. That's a plan, innit? Let's keep things all clean and private."

He glanced to the side and I did, too, glanced at the maitre d', still holding my chair. I felt a stern French disapproval of my table manners, which was interesting, because the maitre d' was neither stern nor French. She instead was a lovely American with long, straight hair who calmly waited for my diatribe to conclude. There was no shock in her face-her restaurant served meat in the bowels of a casino, there wasn't much I expect she hadn't seen-still, her presence there settled me enough that I finally dropped down into the chair and accepted the great burgundy menu.

"You like shrimp, Vic?" asked Skink. "Who don't, right? Bring him an order of the grilled prawns to start with while he reads the bill of fare, will you, sweetheart?"

The maitre d' smiled, nodded, swayed away.

"Lovely girl, that. Wouldn't mind ordering her right off the menu."

"There's enough to buy in this town, if that's what you need to do."

"I don't need to do a thing," he said. "Just like I don't need to pick up my skim milk in the 7-Eleven. It's the convenience, is all."

"I want my money and I want my doc.u.ments."

He picked up another oyster and slurped. "There's the root of the problem, innit? None of thems is yours. You pocketed it all from a dead girl's bank deposit box, didn't you?"

"Jonah Peale promised you'd leave me alone?"

"He told me to go on vacation, and here I am. But even so, I'm n.o.body's boy. I'm what they call an independent contractor. Key word being 'independent.' I do whatever I want, work for whoever I d.a.m.n please."

"For whom exactly do you work? Lawrence Cutlip? Is that why you took the insurance policy? The receptionist at Desert Winds said Cutlip was having a busy day. I'd bet you were the other visitor. I'd bet you showed up there before I did. I'd bet you were squatting there behind the mesquite tree, eavesdropping on our meeting."

Skink smiled as he sucked down another oyster.

"And Guy's father-in-law, Jonah Peale? That's who you took the Juan Gonzalez file for, isn't it?"

"It would be a violation of my ethical duties to be disclosing the names of my clients."

"It's so nice to see you concerned about your ethical duties."

"At least one of us is." He peered at me over the great crystal sh.e.l.l.

"What about the money? Who was that for?"