and starving and standing around in lines. I don't do lines. That's another part of my new philosophy. No lines. And I can take Boo with me if I drive. Me and Boo can have a road trip. I'm starting to get real excited about this. I always wanted to have a dog when I was a kid, but I never had the chance. I was dog deprived.'
'Works for me,' Connie said. 'If you take Boo we don't have the hassle of crating him and getting him on the plane.'
I called valet parking and had the car brought around. I gave Lula the pepper spray and the stun gun and two hundred dollars. Connie contributed another hundred and fifty. It was all the money we had between us. We loaded Lula, Boo, and Lula's luggage into the car and waved good-bye.
'I'm not sure if she's the smart one or the dumb one,' Connie said.
There were only two of us now and we each had a loaded gun in our pockets. We stopped at the snack bar, got a bag of food, and returned to the room to finish packing.
My packing was simple. Take all the little complimentary soaps and shampoos from the bathroom and put them in my carry-on bag. Connie's packing was more complicated.
'Oh shit,' Connie said, 'look at this.'
She was holding up the wedding photo. It had a few dog tooth marks in the lower left corner.
'Do you suppose you actually got married?' I asked her.
'I don't know. I don't remember.' She closed her eyes and groaned. 'Sweet Jesus, please don't let me be married to an Elvis impersonator.'
'There must be some way you can find out,' I said. 'There have to be records. Probably you can have it annulled.'
There was a rap on the door and Connie and I went into panic mode for fear it was the maid. I looked out the security peephole and recognized Erik's partner from Rangers description. The guy in the hall looked a lot like Erik, but bigger and weirder and scarier. He looked like a Vegas pit boss on steroids.
'It's our chauffeur,' I said.
I opened the door and invited the big scary guy in. He was dark-skinned with slicked-back black hair and dark, heavy-lidded eyes. He was wearing black cowboy boots, black leather pants, a black leather jacket, and a shiny black silk shirt that was unbuttoned half down his chest. He had a colorful crucifixion tattooed onto the back of his left hand. And he had a gun at the small of his back, under the jacket.
'I'm Miguel,' he said. 'I'm Erik's partner.'
'Jeez,' I said. 'We're all really sorry about Erik. I hope he's okay.'
Miguel gave a brief nod, which I took to mean that Erik had his back straightened out and was recovering nicely.
'I'm ready to go,' I told him, handing over the cuffs and shackles and guns. 'My partner is driving back. She has the rest of the hardware.'
Another small nod. Fine by him.
Connie was packed, but she was in the middle of the room with the photo in her hand and she was looking conflicted. 'I need to get this straightened out,' she said. 'I'm going to stay and catch a later flight.'
'I can stay with you,' I said.
She shook her head. 'Not necessary. You'll be safer in Trenton with Morelli.'
And Connie would be safer in Vegas without me. I gave her a hug and my room key. Miguel shouldered my bag, stepped aside, and followed me wordlessly to the elevator.
This is the thing about men who never talk. It's easier to assume that they're strong and that they have the sort of wily cunning a woman wants in a bodyguard. I try not to be judgmental, but in all honesty, I'd feel less secure if Miguel had rambled on about how difficult it was to find a decent silk shirt. So no conversation was okay by me because I needed some help being brave. I wanted to think this guy could leap tall buildings in a single bound.
I left the hotel and slipped into the air-conditioned security of a new black Mercedes. 'Your car?' I asked Miguel.
'More or less.'
He walked me to the security check, waited watchfully while I went through. No hassle this time. And then I was on my own. In theory this was a safe zone. Still, I found a seat with my back to the wall and I boarded last, looking for familiar or suspicious faces.
I was in the last row with three empty seats next to me. Lula's seat, Connie's seat, and a seat reserved for Singh. If Singh had been with me, we would have boarded first and if at all possible through a side door. Walking a guy in chains down the aisle in front of the paying customers doesn't set the tone for a stress-free flight.
I was happy to once again have my back to the wall, but I felt naked without hardware. It was a creepy thought that the killer might be on the plane. He could be the preppy-looking guy across the aisle or the hairy guy three rows up. They'd watched me take my seat. Hard to tell if they wanted to kill me or if they just didn't have anything better to do than to stare.
BY THE TIME I deplaned in Newark I was too tired to be afraid. God bless those lucky souls who can sleep while flying. I've never been one of them.
I'd arranged to meet Morelli at baggage claim. I didn't have any baggage to claim, but it was the easiest pickup point. It was seven in the morning, Jersey time. My teeth felt furry and my eyes ached.
I searched the crowd for Morelli and felt my heart skip a beat when I found him. Morelli never blended. He was movie star handsome and looked like a man you'd avoid in a fight. Women always looked twice at Morelli, but seldom approached. With the possible exception of Terry Gilman.
Morelli's face softened when he saw me. He reached out and drew me to him, wrapping his arms around me.
