“Sam Case.”
He pauses. Then says, “You’re certain?”
“Quite. No one shits rubber tubing like Sam.”
“I have no idea what that means,” Dr. P. says, “but if he found a way out of Area B without me knowing it, he’s managed to defeat my surveillance.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I say. “He’s dead and you’re out of the business.”
“Which is why I can’t personally call the cleaner.”
“Good point. Give me the contact info, and I’ll deal with him personally.”
“Her.”
“What?”
“My Las Vegas cleaner’s a woman.”
“You’re kidding!”
“She’s a former crime scene investigator, fallen on hard times.”
“But trustworthy?”
“Completely.”
He gives me her name and number.
Nelia Mitchell thanks me profusely for calling.
“When I heard Darwin passed, I thought I’d never work again!” she says. “Thank God you got my number! You think you can keep me busy for the next few years?”
I like her attitude.
“I’ll do my best,” I say.
“God bless you, Mr. Creed.”
I do meet some strange people in this business.
“I’ll need specifics,” she says.
“Like what?”
She chuckles. “You’re new at this, aren’t you?”
“The cleaning up part? Yes, ma’am. What do you need?”
“Is the victim a man or woman?”
“Man.”
“Height?”
“Six feet, more or less.”
“Exact is better.”
“Why?”
“We’re going to wheel him out of there in a suitcase. Be a shame if his head is sticking out.”
“Say six feet, then.”
“Weight?”
“One eighty-five.”
“How much blood?”
“Confined to the bathroom floor, the tub, and splash tiles. There’s probably some on the shower floor and in the drains.”
“We’ll take care of the drains.”
“We?”
“I’m an old lady. I can’t do all this by myself.”
“Let’s be clear. I deal with you, you deal with the crew.”
“No one sees you but me,” she says.
“When can you be here?”
“Vega Rouge? Give me two hours.”
“Thanks, Nelia.”
“Don’t thank me, pay me.”
“How much?”
“For this job? Eight grand.”
“That sounds high.”
“How much would you pay a lawyer to keep you out of jail?”
“Good point.”
“Cash, honey.”
“Yes, of course.”
“In advance.”
“Yes ma’am.”
39
MY NEXT CALL is to my daughter, Kimberly.
“Maybe Taylor,” she says.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“I’m in a hotel room with a dead guy.”
“That’s got to be more fun than you’re making it sound.”
I try to keep the smile out of my voice as I ask, “Where are you?”
“Out drinking. But don’t worry, I’m not driving. I’ve got a hotel room upstairs.”
“Not the room where I’m standing, I hope.”
“Nope. I’m down the street.”
“You’re drinking you say?”
“Uh huh.”
“Got troubles?”
“I broke up with my boyfriend tonight.”
“Yeah. That’s sort of why I called.”
“I know.”
“You want some company?”
“Tomorrow? Sure. But not tonight.”
“But you’ll be okay?”
“I will.”
“Because?”
“I’ve got a great job, working with my dad.”
“Your dad sounds very handsome.”
She giggles. “He is.”
We’re quiet a while.
Then I ask, “Anything you want to say to me?”
“Yes.”
“Go ahead.”
“Don’t tell Mom what I did, okay?”
“Okay.”
40
