“That can’t be good. When’d that happen?”
“I dunno. It just did. I’m thinking of maybe doing something about it, too.”
“Like what?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Kinda would, yeah.”
“Okay, I’ll give you a hint.”
We were in the midst of a tremendous kiss when the elevator doors opened. We walked down to the room a little faster than usual, sort of a lope. I opened the door and there was my all-time favorite detective, sitting on a bed, watching television.
Our television.
Shit.
“Ho-ly smoke,” Fairchild said as he got to his feet. “I mean, uh, this is the assistant you were talkin’ about? Lucy?”
I took off the hairpiece and the moustache, tossed them on a chair. “What the hell are you doin’ here, Russ?”
“Hey, it’s nice to see you, too, Mortimer.”
“Mort.”
Russ held out a hand to Lucy. “Russell Fairchild, Reno PD. And you are . . .”
“Out of your jurisdiction, obviously.”
Russ lowered his hand and shot me a look. Then Lucy said, “Lucy. Mort’s assistant. And I’ve like been to Reno a few times, but I’m really sort of from like all over, totally.”
She said all that in the voice of a fifteen-year-old Valley Girl, and the “likes” were just great. Her “totally” at the end was like the cherry on top of a sundae. Russell knew how old she was, but still. Here she was in color and 3-D, 3-D being the main thing, especially in that halter top with seven inches of tummy showing. When he looked at me, I saw new respect in his eyes, which were jittering slightly.
“Think I’ll go put on something different,” Lucy said. She went into the bathroom and shut the door.
“Holy Christ, Angel,” Russ said in an awed whisper.
“Yeah. And whatever your mouth thinks it wants to say next, don’t let it.”
“That is . . . is she . . .”
“What?”
“Is she any good? I mean, as an assistant?”
“She’s fantastic.”
He didn’t know how to take that. He shook his head and said, “I am in the wrong . . . Je-sus. Okay, before she comes back, I got something to tell you about that Jo-X dipshit. Boyce found it during the autopsy, figures it must’ve happened a week or two ago. Xenon . . . well, he, he . . .”
“Had a little superglue accident with his pecker, would be my guess.”
His eyes widened. “Where the hell did you get that?”
“I have these vivid dreams.”
“Sonofabitch.”
“I’m a gumshoe, Russ. Good one, too.”
“Sonofabitch. Boyce was backed up. He did the autopsy two days ago. We kept that superglue business hushed up. There isn’t six people who know about it, so I’d really like to know—”
Lucy came out barefoot, wearing a white Luxor terrycloth bathrobe that ended at mid-thigh, left a lot of nice leg showing. As Hammer would say, she looked like a million bucks.
“Okay, Mr. Reno Detective,” she said. “What’re you doin’ here? How’d you get in this room?”
He gawked at her for several seconds, then said, “You just called me ‘detective.’ That’s how I got in.”
“Detectives can float through locked doors? I didn’t know that. I’ll watch while you float back out.”
“If you must know, I knew you two were staying here at the Luxor. I’ve got a friend works security here. I asked him if a girl won big at roulette in the last day or two, and he said some ditzy broad was driving them nuts at the table, playing like a complete idiot but winning big.” He gave me an accusing look. “Upwards of forty thousand dollars big, not twelve.”
I shrugged. “I rounded it off. And we won a little more after I talked to you. Then lost ten grand.”
He stared at me, then said, “My friend owed me. He knew which room the ‘ditzy broad’ was in. He got me in here where I could wait in comfort, be sure to see you if you came in. Which, as you can see, worked.” He offered Lucy a tentative smile.
“Give you ten minutes, then I’ll kick you out myself,” said my young, volatile, gorgeous, somewhat-underdressed assistant.
Fairchild’s smile faded.
“Nine minutes fifty-five seconds and counting,” she said. “You’re interrupting things.”
Smooth.
“Interrupting what?” His eyes swiveled to me.
“Dinner,” I said. “We haven’t eaten yet.”
“Hey, great, I’ll buy. We could go on down and—”
“I need a bath,” Lucy said. “Dinner can wait. Nine minutes forty seconds. Say what you gotta say, then take it somewhere else and have a nice day.”
Russell’s eyes ping-ponged between us for a moment, then he said, “Where in Caliente is Danya? And Shanna?”
“And here I thought you were a detective.”
“I could find ’em, no problem. I thought I’d see you first, find out what they’re doing there, get some information before I bust in on ’em.”
“You should stay away.”
“That’s my kid, Angel. How’m I supposed to do that?”
Good question, actually. What would I do if it were Nicole? My daughter. Answer: I would move heaven and earth to protect her. Fortunately, she was two thousand miles away from all this.
“Pahranagai Inn,” Lucy said. “Room nine. Now how about you get out and leave us alone.”
I stared at her. She gave me a bland look in return.
“Well,” she said, “he’s got to know where they are. But”—she faced Russ—“if you’re smart you’ll play it cool. Right now she’s safe. Make a big deal out of it and you could screw it up.”
“I just need to see her. Make sure she’s okay.”
“She’s fine. She’s with Shanna,” I said.
“Yeah, well, I figured that.”
“And they’re married—unless they’re lying about it, which doesn’t seem likely, so you’d better factor that into whatever you think you’re gonna do or say to her.”
“How about, ‘congratulations’?” Lucy said. “Since it looks like you kinda missed that part.”
Fairchild’s head whipped between us as if he were watching a jai alai match. Finally he said, “Parana-what?”
“Pahranagai Inn,” Lucy said. “Room nine. It’s at the north end of town. Caliente. Hundred and fifty miles from here so you oughta get a move on.”
“Yeah, well, thanks,” Russ said.
I got a pad of Luxor stationary out of a desk. “Before you go, I want you to find out everything you
