Shadowfires

trusts.”

“Who's this Gavis?” Julio asked.

“They were in Vietnam together,” she said. “They're tight. As tight as brothers. Tighter, maybe. You know, Ben's a real nice guy, one of the best, and anyone'll tell you so. He's gentle, open, so darn honest and honorable that some people just plain don't believe him for a while, until they've gotten to know him better. But it's funny… in a way… he holds almost everybody at arm's length, never quite reveals himself completely. Except, I think, with Whit Gavis. It's as if things happened to him in the war that made him forever different from other people, that made it impossible for him to be truly close to anyone except those who went through the same thing he went through and came out with their minds in one piece. Like Whit.”

“Is he close in the same way with Mrs. Leben?” Julio asked.

“Yes, I think so. I think he loves her,” Teddy said, “which makes her about the luckiest woman I know.”

Reese sensed jealousy in Teddy's voice, and his heart felt as if it broke loose and plummeted down through his chest.

Apparently Julio heard the same note, for he said, “Forgive me, Teddy, but I'm a cop, and I'm curious by nature, and you sounded as if you wouldn't mind if he'd fallen for you.”

She blinked in surprise, then laughed. “Me and Ben? No, no. For one thing, I'm taller than he is, and in heels I positively tower over him. Besides, he's a homebody — a quiet, peaceful man who reads old mystery novels and collects trains. No, Ben's a great guy, but I'm far too flamboyant for him, and he's too low-key for me.”

Reese's heart stopped plummeting.

Teddy said, “Oh, I'm just jealous of Rachael because she's found herself a good man, and I haven't. When you're my size, you know from the start that men aren't going to flock to you — except basketball players, and I hate jocks. Then, when you get to be thirty-two, you can't help feeling a bit sour every time you see someone catch a good one, can't help it even when you're happy for them.”

Reese's heart soared.

After Julio had asked a few more questions about the motel in Las Vegas and had ascertained its location, he and Reese got up, and Teddy accompanied them to the door. Step by step, Reese wracked his mind for an approach, an opening line. As Julio opened the door, Reese looked back at Teddy and said, “Uh, excuse me, Miss Bertlesman, but I'm a cop, and asking questions is my business, you know, and I was wondering if you're…” He didn't know where to go with it. “… if you're maybe… uh… seeing anyone particular.” Listening to himself, Reese was amazed and dismayed that Julio could sound so smooth while he, trying to imitate his partner's cool manner, could sound so rough and obvious.

Smiling up at him, she said, “Does this have bearing on the case you're investigating?”

“Well… I just thought… I mean… I wouldn't want you mentioning this conversation to anyone. I mean, it's not just that we could get in trouble with our captain… but if you mentioned the motel to anyone, you might jeopardize Mr. Shadway and Mrs. Leben and… well…”

He wanted to shoot himself, put an end to this humiliation.

She said, “I'm not seeing anyone special, not anyone I'd share secrets with.”

Reese cleared his throat. “Well, uh, that's good. All right.”

He started to turn toward the door, where Julio was giving him a strange look, and Teddy said, “You are a big one, aren't you?”

Reese faced her again. “Excuse me?”

“You're quite a big guy. Too bad there aren't more your size. A girl like me would almost seem petite to you.”

What does she mean by that? he wondered. Anything? Just polite conversation? Is she giving me an opening? If it's an opening, how should I respond to it?

“It would be nice to be thought of as petite,” she said.

He tried to speak. Could not.

He felt stupid, awkward, and shy as he'd been at sixteen.

Suddenly he could speak, but he blurted out the question as he might have done as a boy of sixteen: “Miss-Bertlesman-would-you-go-out-with-me-sometime?”

She smiled and said, “Yes.”

“You would?”

“Yes.”

“Saturday night? Dinner? Seven o'clock?”

“Sounds nice.”

He stared at her, amazed. “Really?”

She laughed. “Really.”

A minute later, in the car, Reese said, “Well, I'll be damned.”

“I never realized you were such a smooth operator,” Julio said kiddingly, affectionately.

Blushing, Reese said, “By God, life's funny, isn't it? You never know when it might take a whole new turn.”

“Slow down,” Julio said, starting the engine and driving away from the curb. “It's just a date.”

“Yeah. Probably. But… I got a feeling it might turn out to be more than just that.”

“A smooth operator and a romantic fool,” Julio said as he steered the car down out of the Heights, toward Newport Avenue.

After some thought, Reese said, “You know what Eric Leben forgot? He was so obsessed with living forever, he forgot to enjoy the life he had. Life may be short, but there's a lot to be said for it. Leben was so busy planning for eternity, he forgot to enjoy the moment.”

“Listen,” Julio said, “if romance is going to make a philosopher out of you, I may have to get a new partner.”

For a few minutes Reese was silent, submerged in memories of well-tanned legs and flamingo-pink silk. When he surfaced again, he realized that Julio was not driving aimlessly. “Where we going?”

“John Wayne Airport.”

“Vegas?”

“Is that okay with you?” Julio asked.

“Seems like the only thing we can do.”

“Have to pay for tickets out of our own pockets.”

“I know.”

“You want to stay here, that's all right.”

“I'm in,” Reese said.

“I can handle it alone.”

“I'm in.”

“Might get dangerous from here on, and you have Esther to think about,” Julio said.

My little Esther and now maybe Theodora “Teddy” Bertlesman, Reese thought. And when you find someone to care about — when you dare to care — that's when life gets cruel; that's when they're taken from you; that's when you lose it all. A premonition of death made him shiver.

Nevertheless, he said, “I'm in. Didn't you hear me say I'm in? For God's sake, Julio, I'm in.”

33 VIVA LAS VEGAS

Following the storm across the desert, Ben Shadway reached Baker, California, gateway to Death Valley, at 6:20.

The wind was blowing much harder than it had been back toward Barstow. The driven rain snapped against the windshield with a sound like thousands of impacting bullets. Service-station, restaurant, and motel signs were swinging on their mountings, trying to tear loose and fly away. A stop sign twitched violently back and forth, caught