I was told the same thing.
Dallas was quiet for a moment, then she said, “They asked me about Jonnie’s penis, Mort.”
The Toyota swerved a foot. “Say what?”
She wouldn’t look at me. “His penis. They asked me if it had any distinguishing marks or anything.” She sounded beyond exhausted.
I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t a topic I wanted to pursue in any depth. The question, “Did it?” bubbled around in my head, but I managed to suppress it without difficulty.
“Do you think that means they found…it?” Dallas asked.
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know.” But I hadn’t searched the trunk of her car the morning we’d found him. Maybe something else had been rolling around in there.
“What the hell is going on, Mort?”
I shrugged, slowing for Plumb Lane. “Maybe someone doesn’t like Reno’s elected officials all of a sudden. If I were on the city council, I’d think about an extended leave of absence, beginning day before yesterday.”
She stared at me. “You think that’s it? Politics?”
“Could be. The mayor, the D.A. Both were up for reelection. Now…I wouldn’t give much for their chances, Dal. What do you think is going on?”
“I don’t have any idea. I just want it to end.”
With both Jonnie and Milliken located and about as dead as people ordinarily get, I thought it had ended. Again, that showed how little I knew.
“Did Jonnie have any enemies you know about?” I asked.
“Scads.”
“That’s helpful.”
“He was the mayor, Mort. Mayors have lots of friends and lots of enemies, that’s how it works. For every person who wants to shake your hand, ten others want to stick a knife in your back.”
“I was hoping you’d come up with a place to start.”
She shut her eyes again. “That’s your job. You’re the big PI.”
Touché, baby.
One thing was certain, we couldn’t drive around all day ducking news vans. My Toyota was becoming too well known. We couldn’t go back to Sjorgen’s. That would be a three-ring circus, now that it was a genuine crime scene. I thought about my place, but I wasn’t up to it, not with K there and Dallas having a fairly cruddy day so far.
We would probably have to go back to the Grand Sierra, but first I drove over to the office of my latest employer. Dallas and I hiked up the back stairs and down the hallway to Greg’s office.
Dale was filing papers with her back to us, bent at the waist, legs straight. Great pose. Dallas rammed an elbow into my ribs, so I guess I was noticing too much how great it was.
At the sound of bone on beef, Dale turned. “Oh, Mr. Angel.”
“Mort. Greg in?”
“No, he’s out somewhere.” She hesitated, then said, “The police were here earlier. They wanted to know if you work here, and for how long, things like that.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It was regarding, you know…Mr. Milliken.”
“Uh-huh.”
“They said you found him.” Her eyes briefly met mine, then dropped away uneasily.
“Uh-huh. By the way, do I get a finder’s fee for that? Some sort of a bonus?”
“And Mr. Sjorgen, yesterday. They asked about him, too,” she said, completely ignoring my bonus. Maybe she would mention it to Greg later.
“You oughta send me to Wisconsin,” I told her. “I’d have that lady’s kid back in no time. I’ve got a knack. So where is Greg?” I got my gun out of the back of a filing cabinet where I’d stashed it and the windbreaker the other day. Seemed like a good idea to have it around again. I threaded the holster back onto my belt.
“I’m not sure, exactly.” Dale stared at the gun until it disappeared behind the windbreaker. She glanced at Dallas. “Gregory was going to check around. About Mr. Sjorgen. Go around to his businesses, and, well, places like that.”
For what Dallas was paying, Greg would do it right, too, if stiffly, by the book, without a gram of imagination. The sad thing was, with all those strikes against him, he still knew vastly more about how to go about it than I did. I was lost.
“He leave any instructions or anything for me?” I asked.
“Just this.” She looked around, found a slip of paper on her desk. It read: Uncle Mortimer: I’ll talk to you later. We’ll figure out an approach of some kind. Gregory.
I felt my wheels churning up sand. We were getting nowhere fast. Dallas had sunk down on the couch. She sat with shoulders slumped, staring at the floor.
“Back to the Grand Sierra?” I asked.
She looked up at me. “Please.”
“Uh—” Dale said, a hint of color rising into her cheeks.
“Yes?” I lifted an eyebrow at her.
“Gregory was wondering if…that is…” Her eyes darted toward Dallas.
“A retainer?” Dallas said.
Dale nodded, relieved. Before we left, Dallas wrote a check to Carson & Rudd for two thousand dollars, something I couldn’t’ve managed without a home equity loan.
I drove Dallas to the Grand Sierra, escorted her up to the room, then took off again, back home. Jonnie and Dave were dead. It was likely they’d keep another hour or two. I didn’t have anything specific to do for Greg right then, and I had my own little mystery to look into.
A news van was pulling away from the curb as I crept down Ralston from the north. Channel 6, out of Sacramento. Goddamn things were starting to get to me, like roaches with wheels.
I opened the front door and went in. A whiff of ammonia hit me. The room seemed brighter. It took me a moment to figure out why. Damned if K hadn’t done the windows! They hadn’t been cleaned since Clinton was in office, maybe years before. That alone was worth the sixty bucks I’d left her. I may even have smiled.
About that time I became aware of the sound of running water. The shower. K was home—my home, not hers, I almost had to remind myself. She was awake, almost certainly naked and wet. Things were looking up.
Five steps past my bedroom, the bathroom door was ajar,
