“Makes sense. About him owning a sports book.”
“Casinos aren’t happy about it.”
“I suppose not. You know anything about his wife?”
“Nope. Just that she’s a young trophy. He keeps her out of the public eye, for the most part.”
“What does he look like?”
“Lucky? Yucky.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Charles Manson in a Stetson.”
“That’s a happy thought,” I say. Then add, “Are you still home?”
“What do you need?”
“A shower, and the suit I left there.”
“Got a date?”
“I’m hopeful.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Gwen.”
“Who’s that?”
“Lucky’s wife.”
“Does she know you’re coming?”
“Not yet.”
8.
One of the great things about having unlimited financial and government resources is the ability to get what you need in a short period of time. Thirty minutes after telling Lou I need an off-the-books police car and a van with no windows in back, driven by a couple of trustworthy guys, they arrive at the parking area behind Callie’s condo. In the meantime, I drag Shelby out of the front office so no one will look through the glass door and see a dead receptionist. Then I dig the car keys out of her purse, locate her car, and drive it half-way to Callie’s. I jog the rest of the way, shower at Callie’s, and change into the suit I’d brought.
My plan is to drive the cop car to Lucky’s house, park it near the front door, pose as a cop investigating a major breach of national security. I’ll tell Gwen that Phyllis has implicated her in the theft of stolen corporate property, namely the device. With any luck, I’ll scare her into giving it back. If she doesn’t, I’ll have to intensify the questioning. I tell the guys to follow me in the panel van and use it to block Lucky’s driveway after I enter.
So that’s the plan.
Unfortunately, when I get there, Lucky’s house is a fortress.
Worse, it’s crawling with cops.
I drive past his house, suddenly very aware I’m driving an unauthorized police car. I need to ditch it, and quickly. I call the guys in the van and tell them there’s been a change in plans and we’re heading to the airport. I’ll put the cop car in long term parking, and have the guys drive me back to Callie’s.
I end the call and start another one.
“What happened?” Callie says.
I tell her. Then say, “Why would the cops be at Lucky’s house?”
“You think they found Phyllis already?”
“By now? Sure. But why would they race to Lucky’s house? Does everyone in town know about the affair?”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“We’ll figure it out. Can I crash at your condo awhile?”
“I’ll set an extra place at the table for lunch.”
“You’re cooking?”
“Yup.”
“Wow, you are bored.”
When I get there I learn Callie’s idea of cooking means chopping lettuce, hard-boiled eggs and assorted veggies for a salad.
“Can you see if I have what you need to make a salad dressing?” she says.
“Got extra virgin olive oil?”
“Yup.”
“Some sort of vinegar?”
“Balsamic?”
