Step To The Graveyard Easy Part 12

"How do you know her name?"

"I met her. Yesterday, at your house. She didn't tell you?"

"No, she didn't."

"I'm not surprised. I gathered you're not close."

"I wish we were. What did she say about me?"

"Nothing worth repeating."

"I can imagine." Pause. "I suppose she... came on to you?"

"Not exactly. Why, does she come on to most men she meets?'

"More often than not." Disapproval in her tone, and a hint oi malice in what she said next. "My sister never met a p.e.n.i.s she didn't like."

Cape's laugh put a tint of color in her cheeks.

"That probably sounds prudish," she said. "But the truth is, I'm just a little jealous. Lacy has always done exactly what she wants and I've always been the good girl, the practical one."

"I'd say she's a little jealous of you, too."

"Not of who I am. Of what I have. She-Oh, G.o.d, why am I talking like this? I don't know you and you don't really care about my family situation."

Cape said nothing.

"You're not eating," Stacy Vanowen said. "Aren't you hungry?"

"I like to make my own choices from a menu."

"Oh, I see. Another of my husband's less than endearing traits. He thinks he knows what's best for everybody."

"I've stopped letting other people make my decisions for me," Cape said, "even the small ones. Pretty liberating."

"I wish I could do the same."

"One of these days, maybe you will."

"Yes," she said, "maybe," but she didn't sound as if she believed it.

A piece of paper was tucked under one of the Corvette's winds.h.i.+eld wipers. Note written in purple ink and a bold scrawl: Easy does it, salesman. 246 Lake Summit Road, Cave Rock. Any time after 7 o'clock. The signature was the single letter L.

Cape smiled faintly, folded the note, and put it in his s.h.i.+rt pocket. Two reasons to stay, now. Vince Mahannah's poker game tomorrow night, tonight an attractive woman who had never met a p.e.n.i.s she didn't like.

Why not?

14.

Cape returned to the clubhouse, found a public phone, and called Vince Mahannah. He said, "I've decided to take you up on your invitation."

"Good. I was hoping you would."

"What time?"

"We usually start around nine."

"Suits me."

Mahannah gave him an address in Glenbrook, on the Nevada sh.o.r.e, and directions; Cape wrote them down. "Get here earlier if you want something to eat. Plenty of food, drinks."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"The other matter," Mahannah said. "You had lunch with the Vanowens? Gave them the photographs?"

"Yes."

"Their reaction?"

"Angry wait-and-see on his part."

"That's Andy. And Stacy?"

"Worried. She brought up the subject of kidnapping."

"What? I don't see it that way."

"Neither do I."

"Andy rea.s.sure her?"

"No. He had other business on his mind. I did what I could after he left."

"You spent time with Stacy alone?'

"A few minutes."

"What do you think of her?"

"Attractive," Cape said, "and unhappy."

"Why do you say that?"

"General impression. And some things she said."

"About what?"

"Her marriage, for one."

"You asked her about her marriage?" Edge in Mahannah's voice now. "Her private life?"

"I didn't ask. She volunteered."

"What, specifically?"

"Nothing, specifically."

"You wouldn't be planning to see her again, would you?"

"No reason to."

"Then don't. Any problems she might have are none of your business. You understand?"

That edge-protectiveness, the kind that went beyond simple friends.h.i.+p. Possession or unsated hunger, one or the other.

"I understand," Cape said.

Time on his hands. The rest of the day until seven o'clock. He took the Corvette east on Highway 50, up into the mountains, then down a steep grade into Carson City.

Not much to interest him there. Silver-domed capital building, state museums, a few casinos. Small-town feel. He drove on to SR 341, turned off and wound up into the hills to Virginia City.

More to his liking. Home of the Comstock Lode, the silver strike that had helped build San Francisco and finance the Union Army during the Civil War. Lots of old buildings restored to give the place a nineteenth-century boomtown ambience. Touristy, but not too bad. He wandered the hillside streets, drank a beer in the Bucket of Blood Saloon, let an old-fas.h.i.+oned one-armed bandit steal a few dollars in another saloon, took a tour of Piper's Opera House, where Edwin Booth and Lotta Crabtree had performed in Virginia City's heyday.

On one of the upper streets was a brick church, St. Mary's in the Mountains. He went in and sat for a time in the cool emptiness. First church he'd been in since St. Vincent's in Rockford. No reason for staying there as long as he did; no amazing grace to save a wretch like him. Just that he liked the atmosphere-history mixed with piety. Another good, quiet place to sit and think.

It was after five when he got back to Stateline and the Lakeside Grand. Upstairs, he keyed open the door to his room, took a step inside. And stopped, staring.

The room wasn't the same as he'd left it. Drawers pulled out, bedclothes ripped off, mattress yanked askew, his suitcase open and empty on the floor. And sitting in the larger of the two armchairs, the person responsible for all the upheaval.

Tanya Judson.

With another little automatic in her hand.

15.

She popped to her feet as Cape came all the way inside and shut the door. One good look at her, and he knew she was a different woman than the one he'd dealt with in San Francisco. The cool self-possession was gone, for one thing. Sloppy clothes, for another: loose-fitting blouse, chinos, flat shoes. Blond hair tangled, windblown. Purplish welt on one temple. Face set in grim lines, something more than anger and determination in her eyes. Fear. Strong dose of it.

He said, "How'd you know where to find me?"

"Never mind that."

"Okay, then how'd you get in here? Bribe a maid? Tell some half-wit bellboy you're my wife and you forgot your key?"

The gun was steady in her hand, a little purse-size job like the one he'd taken from her in the Conover Arms. "It's not here," she said. She made a menacing gesture with the automatic. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"The money, d.a.m.n you. The sixteen thousand you stole from us."

"I don't have it anymore."

"Don't f.u.c.k with me, Cape. I want that money!"

"I gave it back to the other marks in the game, like I said I would. All except what belonged to me."

"Bulls.h.i.+t."

"G.o.d's honest truth. The next morning, before I left the city."

"Two thousand of it was ours!"

"Forfeit charge," Cape said. "I divvied it up six ways."

She made a noise like a cat's hiss. "Your wallet. Toss it on the bed."

"I'm only carrying about two hundred."

"On the bed. Now."

Cape shrugged, flipped his wallet onto the mattress. Tanya leaned over to fumble for it without taking her eyes off him. When she had the thin sheaf of bills out, she held them up in a fan.

"I told you," he said. "Two hundred, give or take."

"Where's the rest of it? You've got more than this."

"I might've lost it all in the casinos."

"Don't give me that c.r.a.p. Where is it?"

"All right. There's a little under five thousand in the hotel safe."

"Four thousand. What about the other twelve?"

"I told you. Back to the rightful owners."

"I want that money!"