“Because you feel alive wearing sexy clothes, or not wearing anything? Hell no. A lot of women love it when guys look at them, even if they drool. The guys, that is. It’s even more understandable given your past at Alice’s. So how’s little Ravi doing these days? And Dylan? Those two must’ve been warped for life, showering with you like that. I might’ve, too, although I would’ve risked it.”
“Well, you missed your big chance earlier this evening.”
“Right. And now I feel bad about that. So, about Ravi? Was he institutionalized?”
She laughed. “Little Ravi is six foot one and married. His wife is really pretty. He’s a lieutenant JG in the Navy. He graduated from Annapolis. I saw him last year and he just grinned at me. Normal as a guy gets. He has a son two years old.”
“So Dylan must be the one who took the hit.”
“Dylan is a pre-med student at U.C. Davis. He has a 4.0 GPA and a steady girlfriend. He stopped showering with me when he was eight, going on nine. He and Ravi are fine. I’m the one who maybe got pushed a little out of shape by what we did. I don’t even know if it was showering with the boys that did it. Being with them like that was fun and interesting but it didn’t really amount to much. It was never a big deal, even that last year. I mean, I was only ten when we quit so it’s not like I had boobs or anything. Then Allie went missing and I started looking for her in bars, and, I don’t know—maybe that early stuff came back and sort of slammed into me. But right now it’s all I’ve got so I don’t want to give it up, at least not yet. It’s the only thing that gets me, you know . . . wound up.”
“Yeah, about that . . .”
“Don’t worry, Mort. I take care of it.”
“Uh—”
“If it gets to be too much, I take care of it, that’s all.”
“How much of this did you tell Jeri?”
“All of it. And she said she understands . . . me.”
She still had my hand in both of hers. We lay like that for a few minutes, not saying anything. Her hands were gently kneading mine, maintaining contact. Finally she said, “So, Mort—when you look at me or watch me or whatever—”
“I know.”
“Maybe not. What I was about to say . . . I’d hate to think I’m teasing you, but Jeri said not to worry. That . . . you know . . .”
“Let me guess—that she would take care of me.”
“Uh-huh. She laughed when she said it, but I think she meant it.”
“Don’t worry, kiddo, she did. And then some.”
“Good. I’m glad. Last thing I’d want is to come between you two. If I did, that would be the end of it for me.”
Another minute of silence, then I said, “Gettin’ kinda late. You ready to sleep?”
“Probably a good idea.” She turned loose of my hand, gave me a quick hug that had a little breast in it—but she couldn’t help it and I didn’t blame her for it—then she moved away. “Night, Mort.”
“Night.”
Two minutes later:
“Mort?”
“Yup.”
“Um, I’m not quite sure how to say this.”
“Just out with it. That’s best.”
“Well, okay. It’s just—Jeri really did okay that shower thing. If it happened.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And, you know, if we did, a little boob rub in there would be nice, and I promise it wouldn’t lead to anything more. If it wouldn’t be too much for you.”
And that’s why I lost another sonofabitchin’ hour of sleep then dreamed I was in a supermarket buying cantaloupes.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JERI PHONED AT six thirty the next morning, Monday, when Holiday and I were still asleep. She apologized for the early call, but Ma had come up with another lead, one that looked promising. Jeri wanted to wait until I got back to Reno so she and I could pursue it together, so—an early wake-up call to get us up and moving.
Holiday and I piled out of bed. Well, she did. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched while she dressed—which, walking around and sorting through various clothing options, took her a while—not a bad thing to wake up to in the morning. Almost as good as coffee. Caffeinated.
“Rushed it,” I said. “Three minutes, forty-five seconds.”
“Rushed what?”
“Gathering clothes, putting them on.”
She smiled, fastening the last button on a fresh shirt. “Well . . . I was sort of embarrassed. Which was strange, but kind of nice, too. I mean, it had a little more zing to it than before, probably because of our talking last night.”
“Zing is good, now turn your back.”
She laughed.
We ate breakfast in the hotel café, and passed the city limit on the way north at seven fifty a.m. after verifying that Martin Harris had indeed had his car repaired at Desert Eagle Body Shop in Vegas during the time he said it was there. This was investigation at a snail’s pace. His Mercedes SUV wasn’t the one we were trying to find. One down, eight to go. Jeri had told me investigations lead to dead ends more often than not, so get used to it.
Ma had come up with another hot lead. I hoped it was hotter than the one we’d just followed. I put
