We had nothing to prepare us for the cold.
The temperature had plummeted as soon as we left the valley, and the mercury kept falling all through the night. I hadn’t noticed for a time, my hands locked on the wheel, eyes on the dead blacktop in front, driving into the darkness because it was the only thing left to do. As though I could still save her if I just got there fast enough. Denying my failure.
It was only when I saw Lizzie’s breath fogging right in front of me that I realised. She’d been huddled close, for warmth, refusing to issue a word of complaint, the cold severe enough to keep her awake through her exhaustion. After that, I’d found an all-night diner in Barstow and stopped long enough to load up on coffee.
We approached Las Vegas shortly after sunup. The morning sky in the desert was a brilliant white-blue, so vivid I could barely look. The La Madre Range in the distance glowed red and ochre, the light catching every crease and fold in the rock. Lizzie was taken with the beauty of it, pressing her face to the window, and I was grateful for the moment’s relief it granted from the wretched life she’d been dragged into on my account.
The road in took us past the construction site – a man-made oasis surrounded by barren desert. The sign said Flamingo Hotel, and it towered over a glass-fronted structure with an overhanging roof that took its inspiration from the architecture of Beverly Hills. I slowed some as we passed it by. Construction crews were arriving for the day, and I wondered if Siegel was there somewhere, overseeing the finishing touches. The thought of what had been done to facilitate its creation sickened me, making me think of an animal that devoured its own kind.
*
The route to the Clark County Sheriff’s Department carried us through downtown Las Vegas – a small grid of streets packed solid with drinking clubs, hotels and gambling halls – often all in the same building. Neon signs danced in a blitz of colour, lit even in the daytime. If I’d expected a western version of Hot Springs, I was off; this was bigger and bolder – Broadway without the class, pried out of Manhattan and laid down in the desert.
‘I can’t believe what I’m seeing,’ Lizzie said, her voice weary and fractured.
But the lightshow barely registered with me, my mind filled with thoughts of Desjardins – if it was her. Of how she could have ended up in this place and what had happened here. And of Nancy Hill, and whether the same fate had befallen her.
*
The Sheriff’s Department passed me around for twenty minutes, two different officers in brown uniforms and western hats coming out to tell me someone else would be along shortly. The situation eating at me: another small town, dust coating my trouser hems, and cops with hard eyes; a glance at Lizzie, wondering how many times I could put her through this.
Finally, the sheriff himself came out to where I was waiting, and I took an involuntary half-step backwards, the look and feel of things too familiar by now. A tall man made taller by his white Stetson, I placed him somewhere in his middle fifties, grey hairs showing around his ears. He was lean more than slim and moved like an old athlete, with the build of a swimmer. He introduced himself as Robert Lang.
‘Charlie Yates. I’m here about the young woman was found dead a couple days back.’
‘What about her, Mr Yates?’
‘Have you managed to identify the woman in question?’
‘May I ask what your interest is, sir?’ He made a point to look over my shoulder at Lizzie, sitting behind me on a chair near the door.
‘I’m trying to trace two missing women and I’ve reason to suspect the lady in question may be one of them.’
‘You’re a private investigator?’
I shook my head. ‘A reporter. The family have tasked me to help find her.’
‘I see.’ He straightened his shirtfront. ‘Kindly tell me the name of the woman you’re looking for?’
‘Julie Desjardins. The woman you found went by Diana Desjardins, and she matches a description I gave to a colleague of mine.’
He looked around, signalled to the desk officer and then turned back to me. ‘Mr Yates, would you step over here with me?’
He led me to a side room with four chairs positioned around two sides of a bare wooden table. He shut the door and gestured for me to sit. I stayed on my feet.
‘Where’re you from, sir?’
‘Los Angeles.’
‘How long have you been in Las Vegas?’
‘I came in this morning, we just arrived.’
‘Overnight? Hell of a drive to make in this weather.’ He gestured to my clothes.
‘I only got the tip-off last night. I came right away.’
‘When was your last visit to Las Vegas?’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘Never. First time.’
‘What about to Clark County?’
‘Never. What is—’ I took a step back. ‘Wait a second, I had nothing to do with her murder.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t recall saying you did. What would compel you to say that?’
‘I’ve worked crime beats for years, I know cops. I’ve never set foot in this town before today, quit reaching.’
‘Let me see some identification, please.’
I took out my press credentials and passed them to him.
He opened his pocketbook and copied something down. ‘Can anyone confirm your presence in Los Angeles the last day or two?’
‘Buck Acheson, editor of the Pacific Journal. I was in his office last night.’
He wrote the name and looked up again. ‘No photographs of the victim have been released to the press. Mind telling me how you square that with what you told me about a description?’
‘Tom Pence from the LA Times alerted me to the story. He was in town on an unrelated matter. He told his editor the woman matched the description and his editor called me.’ I planted my hands on the table. ‘It was the name, that was the red flag. How many Desjardins crop up in this town?’
He scribbled something else down. ‘Well then, how did this Pence know what the victim looked like?’
I looked at the ceiling and then back at him. ‘Say he was at the scene.’ He started to write. ‘After you found her,’ I added.
Lang looked at me and tilted his head.
‘Look, if you let me see the body, I can confirm whether she’s the woman I know as Julie Desjardins.’
He kept looking at me, flicking his pocketbook slowly with his thumb. ‘That’s a duty for the dead woman’s next of kin. You provide me with their particulars and I’ll see to it they’re reached.’
I thought about what to say, knowing I’d talked myself into a corner and deciding that truth was the safest course. ‘I don’t know her family. My working theory is that Desjardins was an assumed name.’
He got up and stood between me and the door. ‘I think I’d like for you to take a seat.’
‘You’ve no grounds to arrest me. Why would I call in here to—’
‘Who said anything about arrest? That’s the second strange comment you’ve made.’ He pulled a chair out for me and locked his eyes on mine.
I took the seat and told him from the start. Nancy Hill and Julie Desjardins, the conversations with Hill’s despairing mother, the fact that I knew nothing about Desjardins’ identity or where she hailed from. The last sighting of them at Mrs Snyder’s house. The appointment at TPK, no record of them ever making it. I finished up on the detail about Desjardins working at the movie theatre on Fairfax, under the name of Virginia Lake – watching his face as I said it to see if it jibed with an identification they might have made, unlikely as it was. But his expression didn’t change and he never looked up from his notes.
When I finished, he wrote on a moment longer, then closed his pocketbook and placed the pen on top. ‘Were you having relations with either or both of these women, Mr Yates?’
‘What?’ I pushed my seat back.
‘That your wife outside?’ He hooked his thumb towards the staging area.
‘What the hell does that have to do with it?’
‘Looked a little younger than you, is all.’
I stood up, shaking my head. ‘I’ve heard enough.’
‘Don’t tell me you wouldn’t ask the same question, you were sitting in my seat.’
That shut me up. I thought how it could look to anyone who didn’t know me, didn’t know about the lengths I’d go to numb my conscience. Thought about the man I was before Texarkana and realised it was exactly the question I’d have asked. ‘I never even met them. I just wanted to prevent this. If Miss Hill is still alive somewhere, I’d mean to see her returned home safe.’
He pushed his hat back on his head. ‘Hell of a story to walk in off the street with.’
‘It’s the truth, I swear to god. Why the hell else would I drive all the way out here at a moment’s notice?’
‘Hard to understand a lot of the things Los Angeles folk do.’
I planted my hands on the table and dipped my head. ‘Please. I’ve been tearing up Los Angeles looking for these two women. It’s killing me, I need to know. I need to help.’
‘You still haven’t told me why that’s the case. Two girls you never met. Everything you’re saying sounds like it comes from guilt.’
My mouth parted, tears forming in my eyes, keeping my head low so he wouldn’t see. All of it crashing down on me now. All of it. About to say it was guilt – but not the way he meant—
He stood up. ‘Have you arranged any place to stay?’
I shook my head.
‘Wait here a moment. Let’s see if your story checks out.’
Without looking up: ‘My wife …’
‘Best you stay here.’
I rested my head on my fists, guilt and failure suffocating me.
*
Lang posted an officer on the door while he was gone. When I’d tried to go to check on Lizzie, the new man blocked the way. ‘Won’t keep you but a moment.’ When Lang returned twenty minutes later, the two men shared a hushed conversation before he dismissed him again.
Lang retook his seat. ‘I spoke with Mr Acheson, he confirms what you told me to be the case. Even so, I’d like for you not to leave town for a day or two.’
‘Can you get me a look at the body?’
‘How is it you mean to identify a woman you never met?’
He was staring at me in a way that told me he knew the only possible answer. Slowly, I took the photograph from my pocket and placed it on the table in front of him. I put my finger on Julie Desjardins.
He took out a pair of eyeglasses and bent over the photograph. ‘Where did you get this?’
‘It was left at their boarding house. The owner of the property gave it to me. It’s her, isn’t it?’
He sat upright and took the eyeglasses off again, holding them by one arm under his chin. ‘There’s a resemblance. Strong resemblance.’
‘What about the girl next to her?’
He glanced again and then shook his head, saying nothing.
‘Who gave you the name Diana Desjardins?’ I said. ‘Maybe they …’ Leaning over the table, imploring him.
‘One of the local press men. I couldn’t say who.’
‘Did you find any identification on her?’
He shook his head again, staring past me, thinking something I couldn’t decipher. ‘She was found without a stitch on her.’
I closed my eyes, trying not to see it. Every fear I’d held for her, realised in deed. ‘Where was she found?’
He stood up. ‘Mr Yates, I’m very grateful for you coming forward with this information. I’d like to speak with you again. Kindly call in first thing tomorrow morning. If you need lodgings, you’ll find plenty on Fremont Street – try the Hotel Apache. I’ll let you see yourself out.’
He walked out, leaving the door open.
I saw Lizzie through the doorway the same time she saw me. She hurried over.
‘What did he say?’
‘It’s her.’
‘They took me into a room to ask me about where we’ve been and when we arrived. They can’t think—’
I put my hands over my face. ‘I should have expected it. From their perspective …’
She made me take my arms down and linked hers through mine to guide me outside.
I started to say something as we approached the car, but she silenced me with a look and watched as an officer passed out of the building and across the lot to his cruiser. Only when we’d climbed inside did she say, ‘You ought to be mindful of how you’re carrying yourself. What if they try to hang this on you? From the questions he was asking me – it’s plain he had suspicions.’
I’d been thinking of my innocence as my ultimate protection, but I realised she was right; that to certain men it was an irrelevance.
I thought about his invitation to come back the next day. Enough time to trump up a charge, no matter how flimsy. Then I thought again. ‘Why would they go to the trouble? They don’t even know who she is, no one’s clamouring for this case to be solved.’
‘Are you willing to take that chance?’
‘Nancy Hill is still missing. If she’s here …’
‘What about matters in Los Angeles?’
‘I can’t leave until I know.’
‘And the consequences be damned?’
‘The consequences of going back are worse. That’s as good as leaving her for dead.’
‘If we don’t go back now, we can never go back. I can settle myself to that, but I want to be sure you can.’
‘I can’t have another on my conscience, Liz.’
We looked at each other – stalemate.
Or so I thought until she broke it.
‘Dammit, Charlie, you couldn’t have saved them.’ Shutting her eyes, regretting raising her voice. She looked again, hands splayed in front of her. ‘You couldn’t have saved Alice, and I don’t love you any less because of it. You can’t hold yourself responsible for all the world’s ills, we’ll never put it behind us.’
I rubbed my eyes, grit and sand accumulated, more than a day since I’d last slept.
She closed her hands tight in frustration. ‘I’m sorry.’ She brought them to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to go off on you. I have this feeling as though we’re skating along a knife edge, and not knowing when we’re going to fall off is worse than anything else.’
I reached out to take her hand in mine. ‘Siegel will kill me when this is through. I know you know that. Going back only hastens that.’
She held my gaze, red eyes bursting with anxiety.
‘I don’t trust Tanner,’ I said, ‘and we know he can’t protect us anyway. So the only way out of this is to take it to Siegel. That hotel is his weak spot; that’s where we hit him.’
*
I slotted the coins into the payphone and looked along Fremont Street as the operator made the connection. A row of neon signs: The Golden Nugget, The Boulder Club, The S.S. Rex – the last seemingly named for Tony Cornero’s cruise ships that sailed out of Los Angeles, floating casinos that carried players out three miles to international waters to gamble in quasi-legal peace. LA’s tentacles reaching all the way across the desert, even before Siegel had set his sights. The promise of money lured them here; had to be the same for Julie Desjardins. That was where to start.
‘Sun, Peter Brown speaking.’
‘Mr Brown, this is Charlie Yates. Buck Acheson said you’d be expecting my call.’
‘Mr Yates – yes. This is in regards to the young woman they found.’
‘That’s right, sir. I’ve been searching for this woman in Los Angeles a long time so I’d appreciate knowing anything you can tell me.’
‘I understand that, Buck said as much, but I don’t know how well placed I am to help. They know virtually nothing about her.’
‘I heard she was named as Diana Desjardins – was it one of your men reported that?’
‘Yes and no. He heard it from one of the Telegraph-Register men – but all that party will say is it came from a source.’
‘Who he won’t name?’
‘Safe bet.’
‘Why?’
‘I suppose on principle? Why do we ever protect a source?’
He’d missed my point but it was my fault for jumping three questions ahead. ‘Can you tell me the reporter’s name at the Telegraph-Register?’
He let out a small laugh. ‘Buck warned me you were direct.’
Not for the first time, I owed Buck a debt for smoothing my path. ‘Look, I mean nothing by it. I’m already late to this, so I’m eager not to lose any more time.’
‘Without being blunt, she’s dead, Mr Yates, what more—’
‘There were two of them – roommates. They disappeared at the same time.’
‘I see.’ He took a breath. ‘Trip Newland. He used to work here before he went over to the Telegraph-Register. I’ve known him a number of years, he’s a good hand.’
‘Where can I find him?’
‘Their offices are on Main but he might be on the street already, this time of morning.’
I thanked him and rang off, then placed a call to the Telegraph-Register and got my first break in what felt like for ever: Newland was at his desk and agreed to let me buy him breakfast. A diner across the street from him – fifteen minutes.
*
Newland walked in wearing a brown stingy brim fedora that looked out of place among all the western hats. He glanced around once and came over, sitting down without offering his hand. He signalled for a coffee, looking Lizzie up and down. Then he side-eyed me. ‘First time in the desert?’
‘Yes. Thank you for—’
‘Clothes are all wrong. Always that way with Angelinos, none of you have a clue.’ Still staring at Lizzie.
‘We came at short notice. When I heard about the body.’
‘Tom Pence got a fast mouth, don’t he?’ The waitress set his coffee down and he poured in some milk and stirred it with his index finger. He reached for the sugar and I took a grip on it.
‘What’s with the attitude?’
He let go. ‘Los Angeles is always bad news for this town. Now we got bodies turning up on our doorstep.’
I slid the sugar to him across the tabletop. ‘What does that mean?’
He caught it but put it to one side. ‘Place is changing. You would’ve seen the hotel Benny Siegel’s building out on the highway when you came in?’
‘I know about it.’
‘Isn’t even open yet and look where we are. You’re the second hack from LA I had to do this dance with this week.’
‘Are you implying there’s a connection between the two?’
‘It’s made us a magnet for bad sorts. The local owners are doing what they can to freeze him out, but they know they’re on a losing tip. He’s chartering airplanes to bring the hordes in for god’s sake.’
I lifted my hand off the table to slow him down. ‘About the girl – Desjardins.’
‘Not her real name.’
‘Figures. But the Sheriff’s Department haven’t come up with an identification yet.’
‘They won’t. Heck, how can they? Way she was.’
‘Where was she found?’
‘About a mile out of town, in a ditch twenty feet from the LA Highway. Bold as that.’
‘She was strangled?’
‘Yeah, by hand. The beating might’ve been the final cause though, we’ll see.’
‘Why would they choose to dump her there?’
‘Could be they were disturbed in the process of burying the body – some cops sticking to that line of thinking. Ask me, I think they just didn’t care. I mean, she’s young and fetching, so someone’s losing money on not putting her to work, but spilt milk is spilt milk. Why take a risk going to any more trouble than you need?’
‘Losing money? She was selling her body?’
He nodded. ‘Young. Pretty. Not from here. Always the same.’
I ran my hand over my face, a film of muck coating me. ‘How did you source the name?’
‘How does anyone? I asked around, someone answered.’
‘I’d like to talk to that someone.’ I glanced at Lizzie, hesitant to spill the rest, knowing I’d have to anyway. ‘She was with a friend when she disappeared, and the woman in question is still unaccounted for. If there’s a chance your source could lead me to her—’ I stopped myself, realising I’d missed the obvious question. ‘Your source – was it a young woman?’
He tangled his fingers together. ‘Come on, I’m not about to give up my—’
‘If it was her friend – the other girl …’ I was gripping the edge of the table.
‘Don’t get a wrinkle in your pants, it wasn’t a broad.’
Should have expected it wouldn’t be that straightforward. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Nice try.’
I shifted in my seat. ‘You’ve got to give me something.’
‘You speak to the sheriff’s office?’
I nodded.
I nodded again. ‘Didn’t have much he could tell me.’
‘Of course not. He’s not about to say anything until he figures out which way he needs the cards to fall.’
I came forward in my seat. ‘Meaning what?’
He slouched back, folding his arms. ‘Would you look at me flapping my lips like a greenhorn …’
I drummed my fingers on the tabletop, realising he’d led me to the dinner table just to sell me a seat. ‘If there’s something you want, just come right out with it.’
‘What’s your pull with the Times?’
I squinted at him. ‘Los Angeles? None. I used to work there.’
‘Tom Pence made a point of seeking me out to ask about this girl – that’s a first. Right afterwards, you show up. You have some measure of clout.’
‘News to me if I do. What of it?’
‘This town is as good as dead. Siegel and the kikes will bleed it dry. I got no inclination to see out the last rites.’
‘You’re tapping me for a job?’
‘In crude terms.’
I shook my head in disbelief, the mundanity of it. ‘I’ll walk you into the damn building myself if you give me what you’ve got on the victim.’
‘Fine – but words cost nothing, and buy less.’
Lizzie set her hands on the table, just hard enough to jolt it. ‘What exactly is it you’re asking of Charlie, Mr Newland?’
Breaking her silence caught him off guard and he flicked his eyes between us, in the end settling on me again. ‘Get me a gig at the Times. I’ll settle for stringer work – somewhere on the west coast. Anyplace but here. Then we’ll talk.’
He got up to go and I saw more wasted days, the last thread to Nancy Hill fraying to nothing. I jumped up and put my hand on his arm. ‘Sit down.’ Before he could say anything, I shot over to the payphone and slipped a coin in the slot.
‘Journal.’
‘Buck, it’s me. I need a favour.’
‘Charlie? What goes on?’
‘Can we take a man on as a stringer? Peter Brown will vouch for him.’
Silence came over the line. When he eventually spoke again, surprise had nudged his voice to a higher register. ‘Even by your erratic standards, this is fresh.’
‘He’s one of the locals here, it’s the only way he’ll cut me in on his source. Please, Buck – I know I’m way in the red already …’
‘I don’t—He’s willing to give up a source for personal gain?’
‘It’s just access to the source.’ I looked around the diner, grasping for something to convince. ‘Look, he can work for me, I’ll be responsible for him. I’ll post him to Sacramento, he’ll quit after a month up there.’
‘I don’t appreciate being put on the spot this way, Charlie. What’s his name even?’
‘Trip Newland. You know him?’
‘No. We don’t have an opening—’
‘I’ll take a pay cut. If it’ll help.’
More silence, faint background chatter on his end. Then: ‘God knows I indulge you, Charlie, but this is …’
‘I need this, Buck. Please.’
‘You can’t call me out of the blue and …’ He let out a slow breath.
‘I’ll make it up to you, I swear.’
‘This is bad business, Charlie.’
‘I know it. Thanks, Buck.’
I hung up and beelined back to the table. ‘Legman work at the Pacific Journal. My watch. Headquarters out on the beach – you’ll forget this place in five minutes flat.’
‘What?’
‘Offer’s good for the next thirty seconds.’
‘Just like that?’
‘No fooling. Twenty seconds.’
He glanced around, dazed, reaching for a line to buy a breath. ‘It’s not the Times.’
‘You wanted a ticket out. My wife and I walk out of this diner and you come away with nothing.’
He stretched his neck. ‘Same for you.’
‘I can ask questions the same way you did. I’ll get there. You’re a shortcut, that’s all.’
He searched my face, turning his head sideways.
‘He’s not bluffing, Mr Newland,’ Lizzie said. ‘I can promise you that.’
He looked at Lizzie, then started nodding, breaking into a smile. ‘Some reason, when you speak I believe you, ma’am.’
He stuck his hand out and I shook it.
‘How soon can you put me in contact with your source?’
He withdrew his hand slowly. ‘I don’t know how eager he’ll be for that.’
‘Then what would you propose?’
‘Tell me what you want to know and I’ll ask him.’
‘I don’t have time to go around the houses, there’s a woman’s life at stake. Coax him – get him to speak to me on the telephone if he won’t meet in person.’
He cast his eyes down at his lap. ‘It’s not as simple as that. There are complexities.’
Lizzie straightened in her seat. ‘He knew her from her work. Your source – he was a customer. That’s it, isn’t it?’
I put my hand over hers on the tabletop, taking her intuition one step further. ‘Is your source a suspect?’
Newland hesitated before he shook his head.
‘Is that in your estimation or the sheriff’s?’
He blinked and looked away, moistening his lips before he spoke. ‘To my knowledge, the authorities haven’t talked with him yet.’
I swiped my hand across the table. ‘Then how the hell can you know for sure?’
‘Give me some credit. Why would he come forward?’
‘Were you offering tip money?’
‘A lousy ten bucks. No chance a killer steps into the spotlight for that.’
I clenched my jaw, wondering. ‘I’ll pay the same again if he’ll talk to me.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll put that to him.’
I slumped back in my seat, afraid I was running down another dead end. ‘What can you tell me about the girl – was she working the street or at a cathouse?’
‘Neither. Appointment only – a high-class call girl.’
‘Then I need to know who for and how to contact whoever’s running the girls.’ I held his stare.
‘I see you eyeballing me but I don’t know. I’ll ask soon as I speak with him, and I’ll tell him about your offer. But just be prepared that he might not want to talk to you – even through me.’
‘Give me something for right now to get started on.’
He leaned forward over his arms. ‘Such as?’
‘Anything. I can’t sit here waiting on you. How did you find your source? Where did he meet with her? Did he ever use another girl from the same outfit?’
He nodded his head. ‘When the body turned up, I put the word out that I was paying for a name. After that, he found me. That’s the only one I can answer off the top of my head.’
I reached into my pocket and pulled out some change, dashed it on the table. ‘Go ahead and make the call to your man.’ I tipped my head towards the payphone.
He took some dimes and walked across the diner.
Lizzie picked up a nickel and turned it in her fingers. ‘Why would a man with money enough for that kind of service need tipster cash from a newspaperman?’
‘You don’t believe his story?’
She looked at me a moment, then gave a slight shake of the head. ‘I don’t think he’s showing all his cards. Do you?’
‘No, but I wouldn’t expect him to.’
She put the coin back on the table, started stacking the rest into a pile on top of it. ‘Were you serious about the job offer? What did Mr Acheson say?’
I rubbed my forehead, elbows on the table. ‘I didn’t give him much a of a choice. I’ll smooth it over somehow – if it comes to pass.’
She looked about to say something more but saw Newland coming back over and kept silent.
He retook his seat. ‘No answer.’
‘At his home or place of business?’
‘It’s not like he’s a buddy, I only have the one number for him.’
‘Can you get a message to him?’ Lizzie said.
He spread his hands. ‘If I knew how …’
I screwed my eyes shut, gripped by frustration. Then I opened them again and stood up. ‘Come on.’
‘Where we going?’
‘Take us to where they found her.’
*
We headed out of town and retraced our route down the Los Angeles Highway, speeding into the frigid desert. The sun hung in a clear sky, but the cold was just as severe, and so dry that the skin on my knuckles had started to crack.
We passed two large hotel-casinos adjacent to the highway, the El Rancho and the Last Frontier, and beyond them there was nothing to see for miles. Nothing until we came upon the Flamingo construction site for the second time that day. I couldn’t tear my eyes from it, even as I felt Newland watching me with curiosity.
‘It’ll never make money.’
I glanced at it again as we passed. ‘How can you be sure?’
‘Won’t even make the construction costs back.’
‘You said the locals tried to stop him and even they couldn’t.’ I thought of Lyle Kosoff and his talk of blackballing the place around Hollywood.
‘Couldn’t stop him opening it, I meant.’ He folded his arms tight across his chest against the cold. ‘He’ll fill it for the big launch, but who’s gonna come out here to pay over the odds after that? Siegel doesn’t understand this town – there’s no one here calling for Beverly Hills in the desert. They want to come here to gamble and still have enough money left for a steak dinner and a decent room.’
We left the site behind, speeding onwards down the highway, me watching it still in the wing mirror as the dust in our wake obscured the view. Newland jolted me out of it, pointing through the windscreen. ‘On the right. It’s coming up.’
I guided the car onto the shoulder and brought us to a stop where he said. We climbed out and I felt the sun on my face, the barest trace of warmth. There were no other cars on the highway, an intense silence, broken by Newland’s footfalls as he set out across the rocky ground.
I turned to Lizzie. ‘You don’t want to stay in the car?’
‘It’s as cold inside as out.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
She flashed a sad smile. ‘I know what you meant. I want to come – you don’t have to do this alone.’
I looked away to one side. ‘I can manage.’
She took my arm anyway and guided me after Newland.
He’d come to a stop a short distance ahead, next to a ditch that looked like a shallow ravine, and was glancing about as if to orient himself. ‘Somewhere around here. Hard to be exact now.’
We picked our way across the terrain and came up to where he stood, Lizzie letting go of my arm to slip behind me as we slowed. I crouched down and ran my hand over the ground, my mind jumping back in time: Jimmy Robinson letting the dirt run through his fingers in a clearing outside Texarkana. The smell of rotting leaves came to me then, even there in the desert. ‘Who found her?’
‘Passing motorist. Stopped to relieve himself, if you can believe that.’
I stood up and looked back to the road, twenty yards away, wondering if I did. But my eye was drawn to the north, the incongruous palm trees and towering sign of the Flamingo visible on the horizon. ‘Cops take a look at the man as a suspect?’
‘Yeah, but he was never in the frame. Regular Joe on his way home to San Diego, wife never left his side the whole time he was in town.’
‘His story stand up?’
‘They let him go home, so I guess so. You’d have gotten a look at him, you’d know.’
A year ago I might have agreed with him, complacent in my belief in a newsman’s instinct. Events since had stripped me of such misplaced arrogance. ‘You said it’s your feeling whoever killed her just dumped her here.’
‘Yeah.’
‘If it was one of her Johns, wouldn’t they go to more trouble than that?’
‘I don’t follow.’
I pointed back to the highway. ‘Big risk of being seen or the body being found, this close to the road.’
‘Say he panicked. He kills her for whatever reason, carts her away in his trunk then ditches her in the first place out of town he can find.’
‘But walk that back; the John arranged to meet Desjardins, so whoever’s running these girls knows who he is and who killed her. They’re not going to be happy about this – you said it yourself, someone’s losing money. So wouldn’t he be afraid of reprisals – leaving her out in the open like that?’
‘Possibly. I go back to him panicking, though. What are you getting at?’
‘Doesn’t feel right, it’s too flagrant for an amateur. I’m wondering if whoever she was working for left her out here.’ Someone cold enough to ditch her like broken-down machinery.
He looked at his shoes, turning his mouth down. ‘Can’t understand that. Whoever’s making money off of her is the last one in line with a motive to kill her.’
‘I’m not saying they killed her, just that they were the ones dumped her. Either way, they’d have a line on who did kill her.’
He took a pack of cigarettes out and offered it to Lizzie and me. When we declined, he stuck one in his mouth.
‘You know what I’m driving at,’ I said. ‘Who runs girls in Las Vegas?’
‘You want to solve a murder or find her missing friend?’
‘They’re all tied up together, why are you ducking the question?’
‘I already told you I don’t know who she was working for.’
‘Speak in general terms.’
He snatched the unlit cigarette from his mouth. ‘You’re asking for the telephone directory. It’s a legal business here, various parties have a piece of the action. And they go to real trouble to keep their noses clean.’
‘What about girls-by-appointment specifically?’
‘I don’t know.’ His response made me throw my hands up, and he waved the cigarette in the air to placate me. ‘I don’t know. First time I came across that.’
‘And you didn’t think to ask your source who she was working for?’
‘Sure I did, but he didn’t want to say. I didn’t press him because I wanted her name.’
I put my hands on my hips and turned away, faced myself towards Lizzie. She was huddled against the cold, trying not to show she was shivering. Her face was stony, but I blanched at the thought of the things she’d had to hear in my company. I put my arm around her and pulled her close, started to make for the car again. Over my shoulder I called back to Newland. ‘We need to find your source, right now.’
As we walked, the low rumble of diesel engines resounded across the desert, construction equipment at work. I found myself staring, again, towards the Flamingo.
*
We stopped at the first payphone back in town so Newland could try calling his man again. He climbed out and darted across the street, Lizzie and I watching from the car. When he dropped the coin in the slot, I scoped the businesses along the block and turned to Lizzie.
‘I need you to do something. Head to the coffee shop just there and wait a few minutes. When he comes back I’ll get him out of here – you stay out of sight until we’re gone. Then I want you to call the operator from that telephone and see if you can’t get the details of who he called. I’ll take him to his office and be back for you in ten minutes.’
She glanced at Newland. He had the receiver to his ear but wasn’t speaking. She looked away and then at me again. ‘Is that ethical?’
My eyes flicked to Newland, who’d turned away from us. ‘Please, Liz. Think about why we’re doing this.’
Her eyes were locked on him, tension in my chest as the seconds ticked past.
‘It’s now or never. Please.’
She looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read. Then she reached out and opened her door.
I watched as she walked into the coffee shop, looking back to Newland just as he hung up the phone. He crossed back over and slid in. ‘Still no answer.’
‘You have any idea how else to reach him?’
He shook his head. ‘I spoke to the man twice in my life; let it lie a couple hours, he’s got to show up some time. Where’s your wife?’
‘She hasn’t eaten all day.’ I tipped my head down the block to the eatery, layering a note of weariness to my voice. ‘Come on, unless you have something else up your sleeve, I’ll drop you at your office.’
‘You don’t want to go eat with your old lady?’
I pulled away from the kerb. ‘I’ll eat later. I want you to keep trying your source.’
He pointed ahead. ‘Make a left here.’
I switched lanes. ‘What you said earlier about Sheriff Lang – something about him working out how to make the cards fall. What were you implying?’
‘Who is it pays his salary?’
‘The county. I’m not interested in guessing games—’
‘And where does Clark County get its revenue from?’ He bobbed his head, indicating I should humour him.
‘The hotel-casinos. So you’re saying he works for the owners?’
‘That’s going too far, but he knows whose side he’s on.’
‘Who’s the other side?’ It came to me as I spoke the last word. ‘Siegel.’
‘Partial credit. Los Angeles is the other side – but Siegel’s the lightning rod for that at the moment.’
‘So what does that mean for the investigation?’
‘I don’t know, you’d have to ask him – but I can tell you he doesn’t pull his pants on without giving thought to the consequences.’ He tapped the dash and pointed. ‘You can leave me right here.’
I pulled over and set the brake, trying to remember what I’d said to Lang about tracking the girls in Los Angeles, what inferences he might draw – and what he might do on account of them.
*
I stopped sharply outside the coffee shop and jumped out to look for Lizzie. I’d been gone twenty minutes and couldn’t see her through the window or on the street. I looked over to the payphone, but there was no one there.
I crossed the sidewalk to the coffee shop’s entrance and pulled the door. As I did, I heard Lizzie call my name. I turned and saw her hurrying towards me.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes, I’m fine.’ She held up a small paper bag. ‘I went to the drugstore to buy some aspirin.’
‘Something the matter?’
‘Just a headache. It’s nothing.’ She put the bag in her purse. ‘I have a name for you.’
I took her elbow and guided her back to the car, opening the door for her to get in. When I climbed in the other side, she was holding a scrap of paper.
‘Shoot.’
‘Henry Booker.’ She glanced down at it. ‘445 East Brady Avenue. I have directions from the man in the drugstore.’
‘Good job.’ Nervous excitement made me crack a smile – but she didn’t return it. ‘What did you have to say to the operator?’
She rubbed the back of her hand. ‘I told her I was worried my husband was having an affair and I wanted to know if he was calling another woman.’ She looked sheepish. ‘I think she felt sorry for me.’
I put my hand on her shoulder. ‘You’ve nothing to feel bad about. Every reporter that ever lived has done the same and worse. Much worse.’
‘I’m not a reporter.’
I was turning the wheel to take off but stopped as she said it and looked over at her. ‘But you take my point.’
She didn’t reply, instead dipping into her bag for the aspirin and dry-swallowing a pill.
*
The address was a timber frame house on the last subdivision before the town gave way to the desert. With a lick of paint it could have looked homely, instead of isolated. The mailbox at the front of the property bore the name Booker in uneven lettering – hand-painted in what looked like a rushed effort.
I walked down the path to the front door and knocked. There was no car on the driveway, but the tracks in the dirt suggested it had been in use recently. No sound came from inside as I waited. When no one answered, I stepped back and off the small porch, glancing over at Lizzie in the car.
I skirted the edge of the building and poked my head to look around the side. I couldn’t see anyone. I went a short way along the side of the house to get a view of the whole of the backyard, but it was empty so I doubled back to the street.
Lizzie lowered her window. ‘Nobody home?’
I shook my head.
‘The neighbour over there looked out when you knocked.’
I looked to where she pointed, the next house along separated by twenty feet of scrub yard, a tattered Stars and Stripes flying above the doorway. I nodded a thanks to her and cut across the patchy crabgrass, knocked on the door and waited again.
After a moment, an older man with thinning grey hair opened up. I introduced myself and asked after Booker’s whereabouts.
‘Couldn’t tell you. I haven’t seen him in a while.’
‘Are you friendly with Mr Booker?’
‘Only so far as to say good morning.’
I rubbed my mouth. ‘Do you know what he does for work?’
He squinted. ‘Seen him loading tools into his truck the mornings. I’m of a mind he works construction.’
The word made me glance back at Lizzie, wanting someone else to confirm the significance I took from it. I faced front again, chest tightening. ‘But you wouldn’t know where?’
He was already shaking his head. ‘Sorry. But with that said, the biggest construction site in the state is right down the road …’