She also said he had a gun in his jacket.”
“What did these guys look like?” I asked.
“Goombas, Vegas mob boys, dark hair, Italian features, you know the look. We better move on to the bed.” I took off my shirt and lay back on the bed. She slipped out of her dress. She had a strong tanned body with flesh in all the right places, she lay on top of me. Our naked bodies pressed together, she raised up onto her elbows, bouncing her hips so the bed squeaked softly. I knew there was no love, not even very much attraction between us, but put a body on a body and the blood wants what the blood wants. I could feel myself stiffen as her beasts rubbed against my chest.
“What happened to Cass?” I was fighting for concentration.
“The next morning, she wasn’t at breakfast, and that was weird because as skinny as she was, that girl could eat. I went to her room to check on her but she was gone. She must have slipped out in the night. Maybe the night manager would know, but when I asked her, she said it was none of my business. You building a house?”
“What?”
“You’re packing some serious timber. Sure you don’t want me to handle it?” She said dully, it sounded like she was offering to fix my drywall.
“No, really. Do you have any ideas where she might have gone?”
“If I was to guess, I’d say she went up north. She had heard from some of the girls about a house in the mountains outside of Reno. The Eagle’s Nest, a much smaller place, off the beaten track, serves mostly locals.”
Climbing off her, I thanked her for the information and got dressed. She told me with a laugh that leaving a man stiff hurt her professional pride. She also told me if I found Cass to send her her love. I walked back through the lobby and none of the girls even looked up. Whatever cash I had was spent, so I was of no use to any of them. Back in the Crown Vic, I took a long breath. I wondered what had kept me from screwing Jessie, it wasn’t like me to pass up sexual favors. In the rearview mirror I caught Marilyn staring at me with her pouting red lips. Was I keeping myself pure for a dead girl? Had the talk around the club about us bugged me because it was true? Had I waited too long to discover what I really felt for Kelly wasn’t just friendship? I slammed the Crown Vic into gear and spun out of the parking lot, spraying gravel in a fan out behind me.
Down the road I found an open liquor store and bought a half pint of Seagrams and a bottle of ginger ale. I mixed the drink in a paper cup in the car. The booze quieted my brain down. All those unanswered questions weren’t going to help me find what I was looking for. I had to keep focused. I crunched a white crisscross with my teeth. I’d bought a bag of cheap, homemade speed from Billy the DJ before leaving town. It tasted bitter and nasty but I knew it would get the job done, so I crunched another. Unfolding a map I discovered that Reno was three hundred and forty miles up Highway 95. I settled in for a long night’s cruise.
The timing on the suits showing up at the Cock’s Roost was right. Maybe they found an address book, or maybe they made Kelly talk. The speed kicked in, giving me that rough jangle I knew so well. If the suits were looking for Cass, it meant I was on the right track. The sun rose over the barren countryside. On the dirt shoulder I poured the last of the Seagrams into a cup and chased two more tabs with it. It wasn’t enough to get me drunk, just enough to take the edge off the speed. In a pasture beside the road a bunch of lazy cows watched me. Driving on, I bypassed Reno taking highway 80 toward Battle Mountain. I followed the signs up a small county road to the Eagle’s Nest. Just before the brothel I turned up a dirt road and parked in the tall pines. Dressed again in my jeans and tee-shirt I climbed a small scrub covered hill. Laying on my belly, I looked down at the Eagle’s Nest through a pair of army surplus binoculars. A tall chain-link fence surrounded a two-story farmhouse that looked like it might have been built at the turn of the century. The dove-gray paint was peeling. A large porch covered the front. It was around eight in the morning and I couldn’t see anyone moving inside. The sun felt warm and good on my back as it filtered down through the pine boughs. An hour later, I watched a muscular young man water the lawn and pull some weeds out of a rose bed up against the front porch. He pushed a hand mower across the grass. It was all so Norman Rockwell.
Four hours later, I awoke to a large crow cawing in the tree above. The sun overhead burned into my eyes, sending sparks exploding into my brain. There is nothing quite as much fun as a speed hangover. My entire nervous system felt toasted and I could taste something like burned wires in the back of my throat. I focused on my watch, it was one o’clock, I struggled to get my bearings. I was on my back on the hard packed dirt, I could feel pine needles in my hair. I had been in the middle of a dream I couldn’t shake, as if it was still overlapping the waking world. Kelly and I were riding my Norton in the Mexican countryside. I could feel her arms around me, the warm air rushing past us. As I continued to wake the dream broke down into fragments too small to hold onto. Kelly and I played in the surf on an empty beach. In the sand she turned to kiss me, but somehow she changed into a young Lebanese mother. Blood rolling from her chest she fell into the surf.
The only cure for this sort of craziness was forward movement. Popping a couple more whites I rolled over and scanned the brothel. A few cars were in the parking lot, a late model Toyota, a couple of pickups, and a Jeep. Blue-collar cars, transportation for the working class. An hour later, a red 1971 Cutlass convertible pulled in and four teenagers piled out, laughing and horsing around. They rang the bell and waited with nervous glee. To call the older woman who opened the door for them buxom would be an understatement. She was opulent. Even from a distance I saw she had the kind of curves that little boys dreamed about and grown men sighed thanks watching her sway by. A short time later a man in a khaki gas company uniform left in the Toyota. Two cowboys arrived in a bondo patched pickup. Whenever a new car arrived I could see movement behind the curtains, but I couldn’t see any faces. The sun set behind the mountains and the temperature instantly dropped. I shivered, waited and ate some whites to keep my edge on.
At eight o’clock I climbed into the Crown Vic, put on my suit and headed down to the parking lot. There were more pickups than sedans in the small, half-full lot. Buzzed in I walked up the pea gravel path. Under a propane heater in a porch swing a young girl in a teddy was drinking and talking to an equally young cowpoke. I was met at the door by Mrs. Altman in all her curvy glory, up close I could tell she was pushing sixty, not that it mattered, she was timeless and knew it. Instead of a lineup, she took me around the parlor, introducing me to the girls. It was a wide pleasant room, with club chairs and overstuffed sofas. As I looked from face to face, I realized I had no idea what Cass looked like. She could be any one of these lovelies, maybe not the Chinese girl, unless she was adopted. I suddenly knew with certainty that my mad rush to find Kelly’s sister had one gaping flaw.
After I met all the girls, Mrs. Altman led me to an old oak bar stretching the length of the room. A cute gal in jeans and a shirt tied just under her breasts poured me a stiff bourbon. Around the room there were several other men, some at the bar drinking, others sitting chatting with the girls.
“So, big feller,” Mrs. Altman said, “you see any fillies that strike your fancy? No need to be shy, we run a nice friendly house.”
“Actually, um, I was looking for a girl a buddy told me about…” effecting my nervous first-timer act.
“Well, you tell me her name and I will make sure you’re taken care of,” she said with a big easy smile.
“I think her name’s Cass?”
Her smile remained but I could see a steel door slam shut behind her eyes. “I’ve never heard of a girl by that name, are you sure he said she worked here?”
“Yeah, but to be honest he drinks a bit and may have gotten it wrong.”
“Guess he did. What sort of girl are you looking for, maybe I can find some one to fill your desires. Do you like young? A girl-next-door blonde? Black widow brunette? Wild redhead?”
I looked at the floor, feigning shyness. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here. My wife left me last year and I…” I gulped my drink.
“Why don’t you just have another drink, get comfortable. You decide on a girl, you just let me know. Or go talk to her, they won’t bite, not unless you ask them to.”
In the mirror behind the bar I saw her talk to a weathered-looking working cowboy. He glanced over to where I was standing and then disappeared up the stairs. If I had unlimited funds I might have taken one of the girls upstairs to find out what I could. But I knew she was there, I could feel it. I finished my drink and decided to come back when the place was empty, plead my case then and hope they believed I was a friend not foe. As I walked back down the path I felt eyes on me, turning I looked up, the porch was empty. I scanned the windows on the first floor, I could see movement in the parlor but no one looked out so I moved up to the second floor bedroom windows. A lace curtain fluttered and for the briefest of moments I saw her. Dark curls framed a round lovely face that I knew so well. Kelly was looking down at me, the ghost of a dead friend, her eyes calling me to come for her.
