I was still on Julia. No surprises at the Spaghetti Bowl—a big sloppy interchange where US 395 did a square dance with I-80. Its planning and construction had proceeded in fits and starts over a thirty-five-year period, finally ending up as the ugliest rat’s nest of roadwork in the Western Hemisphere. Julia looped around the mess and went west on I-80, still headed toward the Goose.
This was like watching the pieces of a puzzle float across a table and assemble themselves into a picture that was trying to make sense, except this picture was still a muddy abstraction, like a late Picasso reflected in a funhouse mirror.
Sarah made it back to her Audi about the time Julia parked her car on level four of the Golden Goose’s garage. By then, Jeri and Bye were in the revolving restaurant at the top of the Goose on the thirty-seventh floor, the Golden View, which made one revolution every forty-eight minutes. Bye was watching the entrance and Jeri was watching Bye, forty feet away. Ma said she and Bye had done business together in the past and he’d recognize her in a heartbeat, disguise or no. Jeri was trying to keep a low profile, glancing at Bye every so often over the top of a menu. Our conference call was still up and running. Jeri told Sarah to hustle over to her apartment and ditch the UNR sweatshirt, put on a fairly hot outfit, then get on up to the Golden View. Julia had seen her not long ago, so if she could do something with her hair in a hurry, that would be great.
About then, Julia came in, also in sunglasses and a wig, this one reddish brown and feathered. Disguises all around. She’d been on television a lot lately; it figured she didn’t want to be recognized. She sat kitty-corner from Bye and immediately their heads were together. Two minutes later, I arrived. I sat opposite Jeri with my back to Bye and Julia, shielding Jeri from their sight. Jeri reported that Julia had a hand in Bye’s, which was interesting. So far so good, but we still had no idea what any of this meant, other than Bye and Julia were close, and Mary’s SUV was somehow involved.
Jeri and I ordered drinks. Bye and Julia ordered drinks, but also ordered something from the menu. It looked as if they were going to be there awhile. Both of them were shooting wary glances around the room. The place wasn’t yet a quarter full. It was still early for the dinner crowd. The sun was getting low. In another hour the panorama below would improve remarkably.
Thirty minutes later, Sarah showed up in a slinky black dress and a bouffant black wig. Cleavage and big librarian’s glasses gave her an even sexier look than usual. Having kicked the boulder that started this avalanche, Jeri departed, keeping her face averted from Bye. Sarah—now Holiday—took her place, watching Bye and Julia over my right shoulder. Julia was sitting sideways to Sarah. If she recognized the girl from the hills, that would be the ball game. Holiday took a moment to put on black lipstick, further altering her appearance, giving her a Gothic Transylvania-librarian look. Jeri and Ma stayed below on the second floor, waiting for me or Holiday to report in if Bye or Julia left. Ma and Jeri’s cell phone batteries were getting low so Ma ended the conference call, which ended the faint sound of casino conversation in my ear.
There wasn’t anything all four of us needed to say anyway. All we could do now was wait and see what happened. I stuck my cell phone in a pocket and removed the Bluetooth earpiece. A waiter came over and hovered over Holiday. She asked for an iced tea and I ordered a Dortmunder Lager, which arrived in a pilsner glass. I also ordered us a plate of stuffed mushrooms.
“How are you holding up?” I asked her.
“Great. This is pretty exciting.” She lifted her head an inch and popped a glance over my shoulder at Bye and Julia.
“Glad you like it. We world-class PIs try not to lead tedious lives. Works, too, when we’re not staring at a computer eighteen hours a day or plowing through decades-old microfiche.”
Holiday smiled, sipped her iced tea, studied the ice in her glass for a moment, then looked up at me. “Has Jeri said anything more about . . . about Tuesdays?”
“No, but things have been busy lately. And Ma and I were out of town for two days up in Bend, so there’s that.”
“Uh-huh. Speaking of which—that girl up there, Sophie, wasn’t boring was she? It didn’t put you to sleep, feeling her up like that?”
“She had to slap me awake twice. Does that count?”
Our stuffed mushrooms arrived. I took one. Holiday gazed out the window, then looked down at her hands. “An interesting word came up a while ago when Ma and Jeri and I were talking and you weren’t around.”
“Oh? What word was that?”
“I just wonder if you heard it. Gift? Or gifting?”
“Ah, yes. One of those, or any of their common derivatives. Ma brought it up on the drive to Bend.”
Holiday smiled a little. “What do you think? I mean, is that possible? I . . . I wouldn’t even know how to bring it up again, you know, with Jeri.”
“Me either.”
“And then, after you two are married, that would be the end of it, wouldn’t it? So it’s almost like, why start?”
“I’m not the best person to ask. You and Jeri might have that discussion. Probably with me out of the room.”
“But if we did—I mean, I know it’s strange, but if she and I worked something out—then would you . . . would you want to?”
I remembered hearing that the restaurant was eighty-four feet in diameter, so we were rocketing along at 1.1 inches per second, counterclockwise. At the moment we were headed due east. I looked out the window toward Mount Rose.
“Mort?”
“I’m a guy, Holiday.”
“Could you say it
