I held up the duffel. “Hi, it’s me. I’m off duty. I found this in the hall.”
“Is that mine?”
“I think so. Wasn’t this sitting in your closet last night?”
“How’d it get out there?”
“Beats me. I spotted it in passing and thought I’d knock,” I said. “It is yours, isn’t it?”
She studied it briefly. “Just a minute. I’ll check.” She left the door ajar, still secured by the chain, while she moved into the dressing area and opened the closet door. Ray and I exchanged a look. I knew she wasn’t going to find her duffel, but I waited dutifully, playing out the charade. She returned to the door, her expression perplexed. “I guess it is mine.” It was clear she didn’t want to trust me, but what could she do? From her point of view, she’d been subjected to inexplicable occurrences. A lost key, a missing package, now the wandering duffel.
“I can leave it out here. You want me to do that?”
“No, that’s all right.” She closed the door and slipped the chain off its track. She opened the door again just wide enough for the duffel, holding her hand out as if to take it from me. I put a hand around the edge of the door, effectively preventing her from closing it.
She seemed startled by the gesture and said, “Hey!” irritably.
I hoped my smile was reassuring. “Mind if I come in? We need to talk.” I pushed the door inward.
“Get away,” she said, pushing back.
We grappled with the door, but Ray had moved into the picture by then, and after a mute struggle on her part, she relinquished control. She’d begun to realize that something was dreadfully wrong.
“I’m Kinsey Millhone,” I said as we stepped into the room. “This is my friend Ray.”
She backed up a step, taking in Ray’s bruised and swollen face. “What is this?”
“We called a meeting about the money,” I said. “Just between you, me, and him.”
She pivoted, moving rapidly toward the bed table, where she snatched up the receiver. Ray intercepted her and banged down the button before she could press “0.”
“Take it easy. We just want to talk to you,” he said. He removed the receiver from her hand and dropped it in the cradle.
“Who are you? What is this, some kind of shakedown?”
“Not at all,” I said. “We followed you from California. Your friend Gilbert stole some money, and Ray, here, wants it back.”
Her eyes fixed on me and then jumped to him, comprehension dawning. “You’re Ray Rawson.”
“That’s right.”
She raised a hand rapidly as if to slap him in the face. Ray blocked the move and caught the blow on his arm. He grabbed her wrist with his good hand. “Don’t do that,” he said.
“Get your fuckin’ hands off me!”
“Just give us the money and we’ll leave you alone.”
“It isn’t yours. It belongs to Gilbert.”
Ray shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Money belongs to me and a guy named Johnny Lee. Johnny died four months ago, so I’m passing his share along to his son and grandson. Gilbert tried to rip us off.”
“You goddamn shit. That’s not true! The money’s his and you know it. You’re the one who blew the whistle. His brother died because of you.”
“That’s bullshit. Is that what he said?”
“Well, yes. He told me it was some kind of sting and it was all set up. You tipped off the cops and Donnie was killed in the shoot-out,” she said.
“Wait a minute, gang. What’s going on?” I said.
Ray seemed unruffled, ignoring me altogether in his focus on her. “He lied to you, baby. Gilbert sold you a bill of goods. He probably had to do that to get you to participate, right? Because if you knew the truth, you wouldn’t help. I hope.”
“You asshole. He told me you’d try to do this, twist the truth until it suited your purposes.”
“You want the truth? I’ll tell you. You want to hear what went down?”
She put her hands to her ears, as if to shut him out. “I don’t have to hear it from you. Gilbert told me what happened.”
I raised my hand. “Would one of you stop and tell me what this is about? Do you two know each other?”
“Not exactly,” Ray said. He turned to look at her, and the two of them locked eyes. Ray’s gaze flicked back to mine. “This is my daughter. I haven’t seen her in years.”
She flung herself at him, banging with her fists on his chest. “You are such a fuck,” she said, and promptly burst into tears.
I looked from one to the other. My mouth did not really fall open, but that’s what it felt like.
Ray gathered her into his arms. “I know, baby, I know,” he murmured, patting at her. “I feel so bad about everything.”
It probably took another five or six minutes for Laura’s tears to taper off. Her face was mashed against his shoulder, her bulky belly making the embrace seem awkward. Ray rested his battered cheek against her tangled hair, most of which had come loose now, hanging down in dark auburn clumps. Ray was nearly humming with unhappiness at the sound of her misery, which she managed to express with a childlike lack of inhibition. Neither was accustomed to the physical contact, and my suspicion was that the fleeting connection by no means represented resolution. If their estrangement was lifelong, it would take more than a Hallmark moment to set it right. In the meantime, I blocked any thought of my cousin Tasha and my estrangement from Grand.
I went to the window and looked out at the barren stretch of Texas countryside. I felt about as arid. Here, as in California, the liberal application of imported water was the only means by which the land was being reclaimed from the desert. At least I understood now why he hadn’t wanted to come up here. He must have dreaded the moment when the two of them would meet, especially once he understood how Gilbert Hays had used her. Why is it that life’s most touching moments are so often the most depressing?
Behind me, finally, the weeping seemed to be diminishing. There was some murmuring between them that I politely tuned out. When I turned back, the two were seated side by side on one of the double beds. Laura’s tears had streaked through the many layers of makeup, bringing ancient bruises to the surface. It was clear she’d recently suffered a black eye. Her jaw was tinted a drab green, washing out to yellow around the edges, colors repeated in the riper bruises of her father’s face. Odd to think the same man had beaten both. He studied her face, and the effect wasn’t lost on him. A look of pain filled his eyes. “He do that to you? Because if he did, I’ll kill him, I swear to God.”
“It wasn’t like that,” she said.
“It wasn’t like that. Bullshit.”
Her eyes flooded again. I moved into the dressing area and grabbed some tissues from the dispenser. When I returned to the bed, Ray took the wad and passed them over to her. She blew her nose and then looked at me with resentment. “You’re not really the maid,” she said resentfully. “You didn’t even do the sheet corners right.”
“I’m a private investigator.”
“I knew this hotel wouldn’t have turn-down service. I should have trusted my instincts.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I said. I sat down on the other bed. “Now would one of you fill me in?”
Ray turned to me with an expectant look. “Wait a minute. What’s the deal?”
“The deal?”
“I don’t know where the money is. I thought it was up here someplace.”
“Ah, the money. Why don’t you ask her?”
“Me? I don’t have it. What are you talking about?”
“Yes, you do.” I reached over to Laura’s belly and knocked on the mound. The thudding noise was not what you’d expect of warm maternal flesh. She smacked my hand away, incensed. “Stop that!”
Ray stared. “It’s in her stomach? Like, up her butt?”
“Not quite. The belly’s phony.”
“How’d you figure that?”
“She has tampons in the duffel. If she were pregnant, she wouldn’t need ’em. It’s a girl thing,” I replied.
“I am pregnant. What’s the matter with you? The baby’s due in January. The sixteenth, to be exact.”
“In that case, pull your dress up so we can watch it kick.”
“I don’t have to do that. I can’t believe you suggested it.”
“Ray, I’m telling you, she’s got the money in some kind of harness. That’s how she got it on the plane without it’s showing up on security. Eight thousand in a duffel, they might have asked too many questions.”
“That’s ridiculous. There’s no law that says you can’t transport cash across state lines.”