Clark County Sheriff’s Department were at the scene when we arrived – a service road between the backs of a saloon and a sawdust gambling hall called Club 21. I saw Robert Lang talking with a deputy at the head of the alley, a sheriff’s car parked across it to hinder access. A third officer was just in view further down, bent over and examining something on the ground.
Lizzie was staring out the passenger window at the officers.
‘Will you stay in the car? This isn’t something you’ll want to see.’ I blanched as the words left my lips – forgetting she’d been there at Alice’s murder scene; the image of her holding her dead sister in a final embrace one that would pain me for ever.
She looked at me sideways. ‘It’s fine, you’re right, I don’t want to see.’
I nodded and climbed out, holding the car door across me, cautious, watching Lang. He was fifteen yards from where I stood, hadn’t spotted me. I was still weighing my options when Trip Newland appeared from nowhere, looking like he’d been up all night. He was breathless when he spoke. ‘This is out of hand.’
‘What happened?’
‘Someone put a bullet in him.’
Lang turned now, breaking off his conversation to look at Newland and me. His gaze lingered a moment and then he resumed what he’d been saying.
‘Had you spoken with him?’
He shook his head. ‘Friendly dispatcher at the sheriff’s tips us off to any serious call-outs. I made it here just before I telephoned you.’
I took a look around, a sudden fear that the perpetrator could still be close by. ‘You get anything out of them yet?’ I nodded in Lang’s direction.
‘Only about him being shot. And that it’s recent. Early hours, looks like.’ He checked the cops were still talking and then crowded into me, turning his face away from them. ‘You rustled up his name and now he’s dead. How short of a line should I draw between those two things?’ His voice was an angry hiss.
‘Are you accusing me of something? You’re way out of—’
‘Not of killing him. But of getting him killed? Sure looks that way to me.’
A cold flush ran through me. From the corner of my eye I saw Lang look over at us again.
‘You had no goddamn right to do that,’ he said. ‘My source, my story.’
‘You’re getting ahead of yourself.’
He was shaking his head. ‘Don’t make me out for an idiot. Whoever killed your girl killed him.’ He jammed his thumb into his chest. ‘And who the hell do you think they’ll be looking for next?’
‘Will you get a goddamn hold of yourself?’
Lang broke away from his colleague and started towards us. Newland saw him and clammed up, turning away to brace himself on the car roof. For my part, my thoughts jumped to Booker’s house, wondering if it might hold a clue as to how he was able to identify Desjardins – and maybe a lead to Nancy Hill. How soon would the cops show up at his address?
Lang walked with ease, but ramrod straight. He touched the brim of his Stetson as he neared. ‘Mr Yates, Mr Newland. I didn’t know you two were acquainted.’ He glanced towards the alley then focused on me. ‘Eventful start to the morning. Mind telling me your interest in this here?’
I waited for Newland to say something, cycling through a list of lies I could tell, wondering if the truth would serve me better.
Newland kept his silence and Lang kept his eyes on me even as I looked away.
‘Nothing to say. Let’s see, Mr Yates shows up in town on account of a young woman was murdered, and wants to know who put a name to the girl. Mr Newland, I believe that was you. So that’s A to B, and the poor gentleman in that alleyway is point C; what’s the connection? Was he involved with the late Miss Desjardins?’
I looked at Newland, wondering if he did know more than he’d told me.
He ignored both our stares, keeping his eyes locked on the car.
‘Do I need to go around you, Mr Newland? My department has always been a friend to your newspaper …’
‘He was a source.’
‘I’d arrived at that already.’
‘He gave me her name.’
Lang nodded, what he’d expected to hear. ‘Which takes me back to my first question – was he involved with her in some way? A customer maybe?’
I kept watching him, waiting to see if he’d lied to me.
‘I don’t know. We spoke on the telephone, he gave me the name.’
‘C’mon, Trip. I respect your right to protect your source, but in the circumstance …’
He turned around now, slouching back against the car in defeat. ‘I think so.’
‘Did the deceased have anything on his person?’ I said, thinking about an address book.
‘We’re still cataloguing his effects. Why do you ask?’
‘The other missing woman. From the photograph.’
Lang nodded. ‘Tell me her name again.’
‘Nancy Hill.’
‘I’ll keep it in mind.’
I wanted more, but held back. ‘Who’s behind this, Sheriff?’
‘You?’
I flinched as he said it, tried to hold onto my composure. ‘Don’t talk crazy.’
‘Maybe you arrived at the thought he killed the young lady you came all this way for. Do you own a gun, Mr Yates?’
I felt my neck go hot, remembering Lizzie’s fears about them pinning something on me. ‘I never set eyes on him before.’
‘That so?’ He took out his notebook, scrutinising something on the page. ‘A man matching your description, with a car much like this one and what I’d guess was the same firecracker sat inside it—’ He glanced at Lizzie, watching on intently. ‘—visited his house yesterday. Did you perhaps catch up with Mr Booker later on?’
Newland shot me a dirty look but I could only stare at Lang, my vision tunnelling. ‘You know why I was looking for him, the same damn reason I came to you yesterday. Nancy Hill.’
‘Every time you say that name you sound a little bit angrier.’
I wanted to protest more, but realised that was to walk further along the blind alley he was leading me down.
‘I’d like for you to come back to the department with me. Both of you.’
‘Are you arresting me?’ I fought to keep my voice level, bluffing he couldn’t rattle me.
‘Second time you asked me that in the day I known you.’
‘You can’t arrest me because you know this is garbage, so if I’m not under arrest, I’ll go about my business.’
He took a deep breath, drawing it out. ‘Your business is to be at my office anyhow, the way I instructed you to yesterday. I have some questions about your movements; if you don’t want to discuss them voluntarily that’s your choice, but it wouldn’t reflect well. Now, I insist you allow me to give you a ride.’
I gritted my teeth, hating myself for making it easy for him. That same unending loop of murder and lies and guilt trampling me. The feeling that I was being railroaded to fit Lang’s agenda and that if he put me behind bars, Nancy Hill was gone for ever. ‘I need a moment with my wife.’ Before he could say anything more, I walked around the car and opened the door to lean in.
Lizzie spoke first. ‘This is a trap, Charlie, you can’t go with him—’
‘I have no choice.’
‘Charlie—’
‘Call Colt Tanner. Tell him where I am and get him to pull some strings to make them back off. Don’t let on where you’re staying. Stay out of sight – everyone’s.’
Lang tapped the car’s hood. ‘Mr Yates …’
She looked at me a moment and nodded, her eyes hard but resolute – enough to shame me at how acclimated she’d become.
I mouthed, ‘Be safe,’ and stepped back, closing the door as she slid over to the driver’s seat.
Lang put a hand on the windscreen. ‘Don’t stray far, Mrs Yates. I may want to speak with you as well.’
I followed him to his car, hearing Lizzie take off behind me.
*
Coming in from the fresh air, Lang’s office was stifling. He motioned for me to take a seat along the wall then left again without explanation, leaving the door open. His latest move in whatever game he was playing. Another officer had led Newland to a different room when we arrived and I hadn’t seen him since.
There was a window across from me, slick with condensation. It looked out towards the Union Pacific depot in the distance, a new building in the Moderne style that was so prominent in LA. Had to be a recent replacement for the original. A railroad town trying to reinvent itself; it made me question Newland’s certainty that the Flamingo had no place in its future.
Lang returned and took a seat behind his desk, started searching for something in his paper tray.
‘I took a room at the El Cortez last night. I was in the casino until around midnight – ask any dealer or waitress and they’ll confirm it. After that I was in my room sleeping until Trip Newland called me there at seven this morning.’
He looked up. ‘The El Cortez?’
I nodded.
‘“El” means “The” so you’re saying it twice. It’s just “El Cortez”.’
I picked at the chipped armrest. ‘Did you bring me here with the intention of wasting my time?’
He set a piece of paper down and put on his eyeglasses. ‘El Cortez is an interesting choice of lodging. All the hotels available to you and you went ahead and picked that one.’
I shook my head, shooting him a questioning look that said I didn’t know what he was talking about.
‘It was owned until shortly ago by, among others, Mr Benjamin Siegel of Los Angeles, California. Of course, you knew that already.’
I glanced away, mind racing – Lizzie left on her own there. I flicked back to him again. ‘I did not.’
He lifted his chin. ‘Mr Siegel and his backers sold it in the middle of this year – not twelve months after they bought it. To the same man they bought it from. At a profit.’
I stilled my hand on the armrest. ‘So what?’
‘That seem like a normal business arrangement to you?’
‘I don’t know anything about the hotel business.’
‘Normal for Mr Siegel, though, correct?’ He sat back in his chair, eyes locked on mine. ‘You think maybe he sold it back soon as he’d had it long enough to staff with people loyal to him?’
‘Why am I here, Sheriff? You know I didn’t shoot Henry Booker.’
‘I don’t know that at all.’
‘I had more interest in keeping him alive than anyone—’
He held his hand up to stop me. ‘What’s your association with Benjamin Siegel, Mr Yates?’
I kept looking at him, fighting to show calm even as he wrong-footed me every time he spoke. ‘I have none.’
‘If I may, I find that hard to swallow. You arrive here from Los Angeles at short notice, claiming your story about a missing woman – now dead. You waltz onto Mr Siegel’s construction site with apparent impunity, take a room at one of his properties – forgive me, former properties – and go to the home of a man who turns up dead no time later. A man was working on building Mr Siegel’s Flamingo and who, turns out, was mixed up in the death of the aforementioned young woman. What am I missing?’
I was rocked that he knew I’d been at the Flamingo. I tried to find clarity in my head. ‘If you thought it amounted to anything, you’d arrest me.’
‘I might yet.’ He stood up. ‘Did Mr Booker cross Ben Siegel in some way?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did Siegel have a tryst with the dead woman?’
‘What?’
‘Were he and Booker rivals for her affection? Was it jealousy?’
‘No.’
‘No? Something else then. Siegel only cares for money or women, and I can’t see where Booker and money intersect.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You said “no” first time, implying you do know something. Did Siegel send you here?’
‘What? No, I have nothing to do with—’ I stopped dead. He was one move ahead of me every time and I suddenly wondered if he was aware of Siegel’s shakedown scam. My role as point man – and how bad that would look. Impossible as it seemed, I wondered if he knew the names Trent Bayless and Lyle Kosoff.
‘Speak free, don’t hold your tongue.’
I took a shallow breath, let it out. ‘Siegel didn’t send me here and I don’t know why they’re dead.’
He stood looking at me, saying nothing, working his left thumb with his other hand.
I closed my eyes and opened them again. ‘My only care is finding Nancy Hill.’
Someone knocked on the office door, breaking the silence.
He kept looking at me as he rounded the table and crossed over to it. He placed his hand on the door handle. ‘But not finding out who killed Miss Desjardins?’
He whipped it open before I could issue a rebuttal.
I closed my eyes and sank into the chair. I was seated on the other side of the open door and couldn’t see who Lang was talking to. The man outside said something I didn’t catch before Lang said, ‘Show him up.’
He ducked back around the door. ‘On your feet. This appointment can’t wait but we’ll talk again directly. Wait here, please.’ He pointed to a row of chairs outside his office door and signalled to another officer. ‘Get him a glass of water, would you?’
I thought about Lizzie at El Cortez again. ‘I need to make a telephone call.’
‘To ask the boss for an attorney?’
‘We’ll see if we can fix that up.’ He left me standing there and went inside again.
I took a seat and lolled my head against the wood panelling behind me. There was no one else in the waiting area, and the door to the outer office was open, affording a view of the exit leading to the stairwell. It seemed as if he was testing me, daring me to run. To what end, I didn’t know – but it gave rise to dark possibilities. I’d come in willingly, convinced he didn’t have me as suspect, but I hadn’t taken the care to look at the sequence of events from his perspective. There were holes in his theory, and he knew it, but it sounded compelling the way he laid it out – which might be all he wanted. It was enough to make me certain I needed Tanner’s help.
A civilian came through the outer door and led a heavyset man through the waiting area and into the office, depositing him with Lang and closing the door on them. I reached to grab his sleeve. ‘I need to make a telephone call.’
‘That’s up to the sheriff.’ He turned and went.
The office wall I sat against was only a partition and I could hear the men start talking inside.
‘He came around again, Bob. That goddamn Hebe only takes his hand out of my pocket long enough to put it in the other one.’
‘Hebe’ caught my ear – Siegel?
‘You know you’re not alone, Harry.’ It was Lang talking now. ‘Wheels are in motion.’
‘And what the good goddamn does that mean? You have a tendency to talk vague when I—’
‘It’s not a problem can be fixed overnight.’
‘Which implies it can be fixed in time – but I’m seeing no signs. I’m sick of paying the Jews and Italians back East only to pay another goddamn Hebe down the street.’
‘Down the street’ – had to be Siegel.
‘I know it,’ Lang said. ‘I know it. Will you be in attendance this evening?’
‘The Flamingo?’
A pause – Lang nodding an affirmative to the man’s question, perhaps. Then the heavyset man carried on. ‘You bet your ass I will. He’s gonna take my money, I’m sure as hell gonna make sure he sees me drink his liquor and eat his food. I’m paying for it, god’s sake.’
‘All due respect, it’s not the moment to kick up a fuss.’
‘We’re in your office, but don’t overstep your mark, Bob.’ There was silence a moment, uncomfortable. Then the man again: ‘What about the girl?’
‘Go on.’
‘Can you pin it on him?’
At that everything else tuned out. ‘The girl’ – Desjardins?
‘I’m not comfortable with that choice of words,’ Lang said.
‘Well, I’m not comfortable with his hand up my ass, and I’m sure as hell not comfortable that nothing’s getting done about it. What is it until the elections, fifteen months?’
‘It’s in hand, Harry. Stay with me, the others are.’
A loud sigh, followed by the sound of shuffled footsteps. My brain was freewheeling. Pinning Desjardins’ murder on Siegel: because it was a weapon to use against him – or because they suspected he was involved but couldn’t prove it? I thought back to standing in the desert where they found her, his grand plan rising in the distance.
A loud back-and-forth kicked up in the squadroom outside, making it hard to hear what they were saying behind me. I whipped over to the outer door and closed it, went back to the partition to listen again.
The heavyset man was speaking. ‘… the dead man’s part in it? He worked for him, correct?’
‘Correct.’
‘Well, isn’t that enough?’
‘It’s a start. There’s another party I’m interested in too, he may be the link.’
There was silence and then a grunt – as if Lang had gestured to where I sat. Odds on: referring to me.
I heard footsteps moving towards the partition I was pressed against and I tore myself away. I saw the heavyset man’s silhouette through the frosted panel in the door, then he spoke again, clearer now he was close. ‘You say the others are with you but that’s not what they say in private. I’m the only one will tell it to your face.’
He wrenched the handle and the door swung open. He marched across the outer office, stopping briefly to peer at me, and then he let himself out the other door.
Lang stood in his doorway and watched him go. Then he went back inside, beckoning me to follow.
I lifted myself out of the chair and did as he indicated. ‘Who was that?’
He ignored me, skirting the edge of his desk as I came inside. His face was creased in a different way than before, as if he’d had a bad night’s sleep in the fifteen minutes since we’d been interrupted.
He retook his seat. ‘When we first spoke you told me you were in Los Angeles right before you arrived here. Your man Acheson confirmed your presence there the night before, but what about prior to that?’ He was glancing at the sheet of paper on his desk again; I tried to get a look but he saw what I was doing and picked it up to hold it out of view.
‘Is that the coroner’s report on Desjardins?’
He slammed his fist onto the desk. ‘I asked you a damn question.’
I sat straight, chastened and trying not to betray it. I tried to remember my movements in Los Angeles, seeming so distant now even at a couple days’ remove. The timeline came clear then – before Acheson, I’d been with Moe Rosenberg when he and Gilardino killed Bayless. And before that, at Ciglio’s. Benjamin Siegel’s fingerprints all over my life. I stared hard at Lang, stilling gut tremors, wondering if he knew.
‘Well?’
The answer, again, was Tanner. I’d spent the whole afternoon in his presence, after Trent Bayless’ murder, and I’d been with him the night before that. I wondered whether to volunteer it – whether Lizzie would be able to contact him and, if so, whether he’d be willing to speak up for me. I’d run out on him and his operation; his comeback could be to leave me swinging. And without his confirmation, my story about the FBI as my alibi sounded too ludicrous to carry any water.
‘I have a man can confirm my whereabouts.’
‘Name?’
‘My wife is trying to contact him now. I need to speak with her first.’
‘Give me his name.’
‘I have to speak with my wife.’
He hung his head, bristling. ‘You talk as though withholding your alibi gives you some credibility.’
He got up and moved to the door, went out. When he came back, he had a deputy with him. ‘Take him downstairs. See how long you want to keep playing games with me.’
*
The cell was one of a row of six, only two of the others occupied. To my right, a man slept on a bare bunk, facing the wall, his shoes still on his feet. To my left, a man was on his haunches smoking, huddling against himself for warmth. I stood holding the cold bars, peering along the corridor, waiting for Lang or someone else to appear.
Coming on noon. I’d been there more than three hours. The deputy had ignored my protests for a telephone call when he locked me up, and when I’d asked to call an attorney, his response had been, ‘What for? You’re not under arrest.’
I let go of the bars and stuffed my hands under my armpits, lack of food making the cold that much more penetrating. The cinderblock wall opposite was unpainted and it felt as though the air from outside flowed right through its pores.
A door opened at the end of the cellblock. The sleeping man didn’t stir, but the man smoking got up and went to the bars to look, same as me.
Footsteps – two pairs coming towards me. A deputy came into view and then so did the man behind him. Special Agent Colt Tanner.
The smoking man sloped back to his bunk. I checked my watch, wondering if I’d miscalculated how long I’d been there.
The deputy hung back. Tanner stopped in front of me, folded his arms with his thumbs under his armpits. ‘Safer here than on the street, I’ll grant you that.’
‘My wife spoke to you?’
He nodded. ‘What you did in Los Angeles was foolish and reckless.’
I stepped back from the bars. ‘Where’s Kosoff? Is he …’
He bulged his cheeks, blowing out a breath. ‘What the hell possessed you?’
I shook my head, looking away.
‘You think that’ll suffice? Hold your tongue and shrug?’
‘I was scared for my wife.’
His eyes flared. ‘So you brought her here? I mean, why not lay up in Siegel’s house instead? Don’t run that noble husband number on me.’
‘What about Kosoff?’
He turned and walked a few paces, looking at the sleeping man and then the empty cell at the end. ‘He’s alive. According to MGM he’s unavailable due to a family emergency. We know that he’s holed up at the Toluca Lake Country Club, with a man on the door day and night.’
‘They haven’t moved on him yet?’
‘It’s a little late for guilt, wouldn’t you say?’ He walked back to where I stood, watching me, but I didn’t know what for. ‘There’s every chance they’ve issued a contract on him.’
I gripped the bars again and met his stare. ‘I need you to get me out of here. They’re trying to hang something on me I had nothing to do with and—’
‘I helped you before and you ran out on your end of the deal.’
‘This is my life, Tanner, you can’t play games.’
He kept staring at me, no response.
I shifted my weight. ‘What do you want?’
He pointed at me. ‘You know damn well already.’
I looked from Tanner to the deputy along the corridor. The man was standing stock-still, hand on his keychain, watching us. Something wasn’t right with the scene.
‘Why did you come here, Yates? The truth now.’
I looked at the deputy, then the man in the cell next to me, wondering about those listening on. ‘Not here. Get me out of this cell and we’ll talk.’
He looked at the deputy and nodded, and I got it then. ‘You already told them, didn’t you?’
The deputy came over and unlocked the door, swinging it open for me.
Tanner stepped inside to block the way. ‘I do not appreciate having to stick my neck out like this. Are we on the same page?’
I nodded, waiting, antsy.
He backed away to let me out, then indicated for me to follow the deputy along the corridor.
We passed through the doors and I tapped the deputy on the shoulder. ‘Where’s Newland?’
‘He’s with the sheriff.’
‘He had nothing to do with—’ I stopped mid-sentence. I was about to plead his case when I realised I couldn’t say anything about him for certain.
‘Who’s Newland?’ Tanner asked.
‘Nobody. A local hack.’
His silent acceptance was uncharacteristic.
The deputy led us up the staircase and through the station to a back exit, saying nothing, walking a little way ahead of me. I looked around for Lang as we went, wondering what his reaction would’ve been to the FBI speaking for me. But there was no sign.
Tanner’s ride was parked along the block. We passed a payphone on the way and I slowed. ‘I need to call my wife.’
‘We talk first.’
I stopped and picked up the receiver, reached for a nickel. He put his hand on my forearm to halt me.
‘She’s at a hotel Siegel owned,’ I said. ‘I had no idea.’
‘El Cortez?’
‘You know of it?’
‘I’ve done my homework. We’ll go get her, it’ll be quicker.’
I looked at him, remembering Rosenberg’s photograph of Lizzie at the Breakers, doubts still lingering.
He set the telephone gently back in its cradle. ‘Come on.’
*
He’d barely hit the ignition when he started in on me. ‘What’s the deal with the dead man? Why are you here?’
‘It’s unrelated to your investigation.’
‘Everything in this town relates to Siegel. Besides which, you’ve involved me now.’
I looked at my hands, recalling the conversation I’d overheard outside Lang’s office; turning it all over in my head.
‘He worked for him,’ Tanner said. ‘The dead man. From what I understand.’
‘The sheriff tell you that?’
He nodded, watching the road.
‘It’s a coincidence. It pertains to an old story I was working in LA.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Important enough to make you drop everything and clear out to come here.’
I waved a hand, nonchalant. Change the subject. ‘Siegel is desperate for cash. The Flamingo is sending him broke, he’s making enemies all over LA and Las Vegas because of it. That’s what the shakedowns are in aid of.’
‘That tallies with what we’re seeing. How does it help me?’
‘The pressure is making him careless. You stay tight and he’ll do something stupid soon enough.’
‘He’s no use to me dead,’ he said.
‘I’m not saying dead. But I’m worried others will get caught in the blowback.’
‘Is that a reference to the man that died this morning or yourself?’
I shot him a sidelong look, giving no answer. The name Nancy Hill on my lips, doubt like a lump in my throat, stopping me from saying it.
*
We pulled into El Cortez and I jumped out of the car, leaving Tanner behind. I took the steps two at a time and came up to our room, rapping on the door and calling Lizzie’s name until it opened.
‘Charlie, thank god.’ She took my hands and I pulled her to me.
I held her silently until a sound made me look up and I saw Tanner coming along the corridor.
‘You’ll forgive me for intruding, but after last time …’
Lizzie pulled back as he approached. ‘Special Agent Tanner, thank you for your help.’
‘It’s your husband should be thanking me. But you’re welcome.’
I stepped past Lizzie and into the room to get the bags. She turned to look. ‘Are we leaving?’
I nodded. ‘Right now. I’ll explain when we’re out.’
‘Where are we going?’ She looked at Tanner and it bugged me – his show again now.
‘Do you have a field office here?’ I asked.
‘We’ll have to improvise.’
*
Tanner paced back and forth in front of the window, reading from his pocketbook. ‘You said Moe Rosenberg gave you three days for Lyle Kosoff to raise the money. That’s tomorrow.’
I nodded.
‘But you’re telling me he demanded to see your smear today?’
I looked past him and out the window, nodding again. Tanner had led us to a motor court a short way out of town, on the highway headed north. The view was an expanse of desert that looked grey under gloomy skies, even the peaks in the distance appearing dulled by the grinding cold.
Tanner knocked on the wall to get my attention. ‘What’s your best estimation of their next move?’
‘Are you kidding me? After what they did before?’ I looked at Lizzie, sitting on the second bed, then back at him. ‘You know the answer to that.’
He held his pocketbook by his side. ‘It won’t be easy to get to Kosoff.’
‘Can you protect him? You have men watching him, surely?’
‘We’re doing what we can. But we’re spread thin, as you know.’ He shot me a look, a note of accusation about it. Enough to compel me into a peace offering.
‘There’s something going down at the Flamingo tonight, a reception. I think Siegel’s going to be there.’
‘Wouldn’t be a surprise, my information has it that he’s in town. That’s why you came here, isn’t it?’
‘Does it matter any more?’
‘The man who was killed – do you believe Siegel was involved?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know? I can’t think of any other reason you’d be wrapped up in it.’
‘You’d need to speak to the cops.’
‘I already did, if you recall.’ He was pointing at me but he lowered his finger when he realised it. ‘Look, a dead construction hand may be trivial by comparison to what else he’s done, but you never know what’s going to break a case open. Think about Capone.’
I could feel Lizzie looking at me, and I wondered if she was about to spill about Hill and Desjardins. At the same time wondering if Tanner had already put it together and was just trying to trap me.
‘You made good time, Special Agent Tanner,’ she said. ‘To get here so fast.’
He paused, the line seeming to back him off. ‘I flew. A necessity of the situation.’
He looked away, taking no account of her, and back to me. Lizzie kept staring at him.
‘This function tonight – what’s the purpose?’ Tanner said.
‘I don’t know, I need to ask around.’ In my head, thinking to track down the heavyset man from Lang’s office. Harry.
‘Who’s on the invite list?’
‘Why do you care?’
‘Because it’s an unguarded moment.’ He went to the window and drew the curtain back to reveal more of the grey vista. ‘Because if certain parties were to be in attendance, it could present an opportunity.’
Lizzie stabbed her finger into her palm. ‘No.’
Tanner whipped around. ‘No, what?’
‘I see what you’re about to propose, Special Agent, and the answer is no. There is no cause for Charlie to be there.’
Tanner let go of the curtain, shadow flittering across the bedstead. ‘With respect, Mrs Yates, Bureau business is not a matter you’re qualified to make pronouncements on.’
I watched the exchange without speaking. Caught between wanting to defend my wife and the truth I hadn’t spoken – that I’d been intending to go from the moment I heard about it.
But as Lizzie looked at me, I could tell my silence had given me away.
She took a step backwards, shaking her head. ‘No. Charlie, no …’
‘Just hear him out.’
‘No—’
‘Liz—’
‘NO. I stood by and watched you walk out the door in Venice Beach and felt sure you’d never come back. I’ll be damned if I’m going to do that again. We’ve pushed and pushed and pushed and—’
‘With respect, Special Agent, allow me to speak. You’ve had your say and I mean to have mine.’ Tanner folded his arms, one eye narrowing. ‘I will not have my husband used as a pawn any longer. You have eyewitness testimony of a murder and of conspiracy to blackmail, what more can you possibly gain by sending Charlie into the lion’s den again?’
He was silent long enough to see if she was finished, then turned to me. ‘You have anything to say for yourself, Yates?’
Lizzie stamped her foot. ‘How dare you dismiss me?’ She marched to the door and opened it. ‘I mean to speak to my husband alone, I’ll thank you to leave.’
He put his hands on his hips, his tongue in his cheek. ‘You’ve a short memory, Mrs Yates.’
‘So do you, Special Agent.’
Tanner came over to me, watching Lizzie. ‘Get your wife under control, then come find me. And if you think to cut out on me again, I won’t be there to save your ass next time. Whoever it is catches up with you first.’
He carried on to the door, touching the brim of his hat as he passed Lizzie without looking her way.
She slammed it shut and marched to the bathroom.
‘Liz—’
I heard the faucet come on, the sound of running water. I went to follow her, but she came out again right away, her finger to her lips. She crept lightly over to the front door and looked through the spy hole.
She straightened up and beckoned me to follow her to the bathroom again.
I did as she indicated. Inside, I reached to turn the faucet off, but she grabbed my hand.
‘Mind telling me what the hell is going on?’ I said.
‘I couldn’t think how else to get rid of him.’
I looked at her, stunned. An incredulous smile split my face.
‘I don’t trust that man, Charlie.’
I glanced to the side, seeing her in profile in the dirty mirror, wondering what I’d ever done to deserve her. ‘Neither do I, but he came through this time …’
‘How did he get here so fast? Answer me that.’
‘He said he caught a flight.’
‘It can’t have been three hours from when I called to when he sprung you. Even if the FBI used their own airplane, does that sound right to you?’
‘I don’t know. Where was he when you spoke to him?’
‘That’s just it, I didn’t speak to him. I called the number in Los Angeles and spoke to Agent Bryce who agreed to contact him.’ She looked down as if only just realising she was still holding my arm. ‘Do you think it’s possible he was already here?’
The sound of running water intruded on my thoughts again. ‘What’s with the faucet? You think he’s listening at the door?’
She closed her eyes and put her hand to her mouth. Then she shut the water off. ‘Am I being paranoid? I feel as if this situation is making me crazy.’
I closed the bathroom door, shutting us in.
Lizzie leaned on the sink, her head bowed. ‘I just keep thinking about your notes. How he was on your trail so long before he made contact with you – the boarding house. Then he pops up here the second we call for him – even after …’
I put my hand on her back. ‘You’re not crazy. There is nothing normal about this situation.’
She looked up. ‘What if his interest is in you?’
I stood motionless, watching the top of her head in the mirror.
‘What if he sent you into Ciglio’s with the hope something bad would happen?’ Her voice was as quiet as a gliding bird. ‘What if he’s doing the same now?’
‘That’s …’ I thought back to the crack I’d made when he warned me there’d be no cavalry when I went back to Ciglio’s – ‘You’d have your case at least.’ ‘That can’t be right.’
‘You don’t sound convinced.’
We watched each other in the mirror, feeling as though each was daring the other to speak next.
‘You were meaning to go to the Flamingo tonight, weren’t you?’
I took a moment to gather my thoughts. ‘I want to speak to the man I heard talking about it. There’s resentment to Siegel here and that man was browbeating the sheriff as if it were nothing. If I can marshal that …’
She watched me a moment longer, then looked away as she pushed her hair off her shoulders.
‘If his focus is diverted, he can’t go on doing what he’s doing,’ I said. ‘And if that hotel goes belly-up, maybe it takes him with it.’
‘He could … He—’ She stopped herself. I waited for her to finish, but she ran her fingers slowly through her hair, tightening her grip until she was pulling at the roots. I reached out for her, but as I did, she screamed and swiped her hand across the shelf over the sink, clearing it of bottles. They ricocheted off the walls, crashing to the floor.
She turned around to face me, pushing me off as I tried to embrace her. ‘I was going to say he could kill you for interfering, but that’s already how it is. One goddamn door after another is closing in our faces.’
I ran my hand over my head then reached out to her. ‘Siegel’s got the FBI and the locals ranged against him, and he’s flat broke. He’s teetering, we just need to give him the last push.’
She withdrew her hand and looked up at me. From her words, I expected to see tears, but all I saw was cold acceptance. ‘I’m sick of feeling hopeless, Charlie. I can’t remember feeling any other way and it makes me want to just march in there tonight and stick it to him. There must be … He doesn’t know about the FBI. Why don’t we just tell him they’ll arrest him if he doesn’t leave us alone?’
I was struggling for words to reassure her and before I could get anything out, she spoke again. ‘I know, I know … it’s more complicated than that. But—It’s just that he hides away and sends men after us and this is the one time we know where he’ll be. I want so badly to feel as though we’re on the front foot.’
The notion horrified me as much as it buoyed me. The prospect of coming face to face with him again, Lizzie there to witness whatever humiliation he could inflict next. Delivering her into his clutches. Side by side with the dream of bringing an end to this – however unlikely.
I opened the bathroom door. ‘Let me take care of Tanner.’
*
Tanner was sitting in his car in the parking lot, his door open so he could face sideways towards our room. He got up as I came over, his coat slung over one arm. ‘You work it out with your old lady?’
‘Don’t talk that way to my wife again. Consider the situation she’s in.’
‘I’m well aware; she’s the one needs to face up to it, then maybe she’ll realise she ought to be listening to me.’ He took his coat from his arm, dangled it from his finger.
‘Why would you have me go to the Flamingo tonight?’ I said. ‘The truth.’
‘Are you in any position to demand the truth out of me?’
I looked away sharply. A saloon cruised into the lot, stopping outside the office and disgorging a family. ‘Eventually you’ll have to forget about what I did before.’
He smoothed his necktie, tucking it inside his jacket, watching mom and pop hustle the kids inside. ‘Let me tell you the truth, Yates: you came to Las Vegas for the very reason of confronting Siegel. You crave a showdown because you think it’ll bring an end to your problems. You were intending to go there tonight long before I suggested it; that’s why you didn’t take your wife’s part back there, and why you’ve spent the last ten minutes trying to make it up to her.’
I let his words settle before I spoke. ‘Doesn’t answer my question.’
‘What?’
‘Why do you want me there? Are you sending me as a sacrificial lamb?’
He waved the suggestion off, looking sour. ‘Ridiculous.’
‘You think I’ll go in there and get myself killed and then you’ll have him. That it?’
He drew up to his full height, a half-head taller than me. ‘I ought to knock you on your ass. I’ve spent my adult life upholding the law and you have the nerve to say that? You ungrateful son of a bitch.’
The pop looked over at us from inside the office, averting his gaze again when he got the measure of the atmosphere between us. ‘Then tell me what you’d have me do there.’
He held his free arm out. ‘Use your eyes. Listen. See who’s there and who he talks to. Same as before, you might not recognise what has value to us, so store it all.’
‘Same as before’ – a trip to Ciglio’s that ended with the murder of an innocent man. The lingering feeling that he was hoping my presence would provoke as unpredictable an outcome this time – whatever his denials. But something in his face said he was holding back. ‘That’s not all of it, is it?’
He hooked his coat over his shoulder from his forefinger. ‘I want you to tell him you’ll write the piece on Kosoff.’
I screwed my eyes shut, about to speak, but he cut me off.
‘You’re just buying us some time, that’s all. Come up with a reason for why it’ll take a couple extra days. I’m not saying you have to go through with it.’
I emptied my lungs. ‘And what does a couple extra days do for us exactly?’
‘Leave that to me. I see the look on your face but consider it this way: could be you’re saving Kosoff’s life. Remember what happened to Trent Bayless.’
My mouth fell ajar, the absurdity of it – as if I needed reminding. But through it came a hardening certainty: that I would go anyway, for my own purposes. To look Siegel in the eye and plead with him to tell me anything he knew about the murder of Julie Desjardins. Whatever that cost me.