He was lying in a snow bank without any chill. Rocco stood over him, wearing a white tux. Fifi stood next to the villain. She was wearing a wedding gown and had a diamond ring.
“You thought you were such a smart guy,” Rocco said. “You’re a stupid little man in a dirty little world. You’re nothing.”
“Go back to your cab,” Fifi said, putting her arm through Rocco’s. “Give it up.”
“Never,” Diamond shouted. “Never. Never. Never!”
Experienced hands were holding him down. The white grew brighter. The faces blurred, then came back into focus. The nurse released him and wiped his brow with a damp wet rag. A name tag reading LINDA was pinned to her generous chest.
“He’s coming around,” she said.
Evans stood next to her. “I knew he was too ornery to die.”
“How long I been out?” Diamond asked. His voice sounded as weak as an old man’s.
“Three days. The docs said you were ready for Boot Hill. I told them if you became buzzard bait I’d take away their golf clubs.”
Linda stood up. She was a brunette of staggering proportions. Her large brown eyes, the darkest spots in the room, showed genuine concern.
“Linda used to work at the casino before she became an RN,” Evans said. “She’s the best there is. In a whole bunch of ways.”
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked Diamond, dabbing him gently with the rag. As she bent, her superstructure jiggled like a skyscraper in an earthquake.
Diamond tried shaking his head. He got dizzy.
“Take it slow, cowboy. Linda and another gal almost as purty will tend to your needs,” Evans said with a lecherous wink.
Diamond did a bad job of feigning a smile.
The wounded P.I. was housed in the Tex Evans Wing of the hospital. He got the royal treatment. The solicitous hovering was interrupted only by visits from Evans, Rosie, and the police. Evans and Rosie wanted him to get well. The cops wanted a statement.
Tex put a team of lawyers in between Diamond and the cops. The frustrated lawmen wound up giving more than they were getting.
From their questions, and with information filled in by Evans and Rosie, Diamond learned that his theory was correct.
Greenberg had used the con man Thursby to trick Van Houton. The South African had supplied money and mercenaries to drive out Strip owners, believing there was a massive gold vein running under the city. It had been hokum, set up by Greenberg to force out his mob-connected brethren, and the few innocents that remained in Las Vegas.
“I always suspected Moe was behind it,” Evans said. “But I wanted you to come in and prove me right without my prodding.”
When Evans visited, he talked continuously, praising Diamond and joyfully recounting the shootout at Greenberg’s.
“Reservations are climbing back up,” Evans said. “And the crime rate is dropping so fast we might soon be the safest place in the country. The news people are doing all sorts of stories on it.”
Rosie’s visits were much quieter. She sat by Diamond’s bedside and held his hand.
“I suppose you’ll be leaving soon,” she said.
“Probably.”
“No chance of you staying?”
“I doubt it.”
“I think I could get attached to a guy like you,” she said.
“Don’t think about it,” he said. “I’m poison. Look what happened to the girl I loved.”
“You’re feeling sorry for yourself,” she said. ‘Think of the good that you did. The thousands of people whose lives are better because of you.”
“I guess.”
And they sat in silence.
When he was alone, he tried not to wallow in his misery. He thought of the many private eyes who had tougher rows to hoe.
There was Dan Fortune, with just one arm; Nat Perry, a hemophiliac who wasn’t scared of killers with sharp objects; Nicholas Street, the amnesiac; Peter Quest, who’s glaucoma made him virtually blind at times; Ben Bryn, whose powerful upper torso rested on a body ravaged by polio.
It didn’t work. None of them had been Fifi’s lover, and none of them had lost her the way he had. Only his urge to find Rocco kept him going.
On Red’s eighth day in the hospital, Saint brought him the news that no charges would be pressed in any of the homicides.
“You got off lucky, Diamond,” the cop said. “You took the law in your own hands and you’re walking away smelling like a rose. Between you being a local hero, and Tex squeezing a lot of nuts, you can leave here without a care in the world.”
“Yeah.”
“And I hear your arm will be good as new in a month or so.”
“Life is wonderful,” Diamond said sarcastically.
Saint lifted a small, heavy satchel and handed it to Diamond. “This stuff belongs to you,” the cop said. “You can thank Tex for getting it out of the property clerk so quick.”
Inside was his gun and the money he had kept tucked under the mattress.
“We found the cash in the car with the woman,” Saint said.
“The woman?”
“The one you were calling Fifi. Her name was Gayle Collins. We were able to make a positive ID from her teeth.”
Diamond sat up abruptly. “What?”
“Gayle Collins. You knew that, didn’t you? This Fifi stuff was a nickname?”
The P.I. was woozy from his sudden move. He lay back.
“You want the doctor?” Saint asked. “You look kind of pale.”
“No. I just need time to think.”
“I’ll be going then,” the lieutenant said. “There’s a big push going on to crack down on the troublemakers. I’ll be working a surveillance and I don’t know if I’ll be able to see you again. It’ll be a lot quieter with you gone.”
Diamond nodded.
“Don’t take any wooden nickels,” Saint said, walking briskly from the room.
Could it be possible? Red wondered. Was Fifi still alive? Had Rocco pulled a fast one, slipping this Gayle Collins into the car? Kidnapping Fifi. That was like Rocco. Luring an innocent dupe to her death to throw the P.I. off his scent. The foul stench of murder.
The lethargy that had kept Red wallowing in the hospital bed was gone. He had let them pump him full of drugs. Red Diamond, the man who ate saps for breakfast, shivs for lunch, and slugs for dinner. Lying around like Joe Blow in for a gall bladder operation.
Linda came in as he was awkwardly pulling on his pants.
“What’re you doing?” she asked.
“Putting on my drawers, angel. What’s it look like?”
“You’re supposed to stay here another couple of days,” she said, stepping up to him and taking his waistband in her hand. “Get undressed.”
“Doll, under most circumstances that would be an offer I couldn’t refuse. But I got things to do.” He gently pushed her hands away.
“Tex said I should give you some special therapy when you were feeling better.” She put her arms around him and let him feel the warmth of her body.
They locked lips. She was soft and as inviting as a mattress after a hard day hauling rocks. She gave herself without hesitation. It was Diamond who broke the clinch.
“That was nice,” he said. “Real nice. A fella could get used to that pretty quick.”
“You get back into bed and I’ll tuck you in with something special.”
Diamond reached for his shirt. “This covered by Blue Cross?”
“Did I do anything wrong?” she asked.
“You’ve got the moves down pat. I wish I had time for treatment. But I got to go. Now be a sweetheart and help me get this shirt on.”
She did. ‘“I really shouldn’t be doing this. The doctor won’t approve. And Tex will be mad.”
He gave her a peck on the lips. “Tell them I made you do it. And I’ll make sure Tex knows how quickly I responded to your attention.”
“If you need any T.L.C., I make house calls.”
“Just what the doctor ordered.”
She exited with an appealing bounce, not exaggerated, a woman who knew how to move like a woman, Red thought.
He slipped his gun into the holster and clipped it to his belt. More therapeutic than a gallon of antibiotics.
Evans was waiting when Red returned to the hotel.
“I heard you checked out,” Tex said. “The sawbones wasn’t treating you right?”
“They were fine. And Linda is a real peach. She can check my vitals any time. But I got to get back to L.A.”
“What’s the rush? Why don’t you stick around a piece? Things are getting cleaned up. We could use a man like you to keep the bad guys on their toes.”
“It’s something Fifi said to me. She kept talking about Hollywood. I think she was giving me a clue.”
“So it wasn’t Fifi in that car?”
“No. Rocco pulled the old switcheroo. I got to hurry before he realizes I’m wise to him.”
Evans gave him a hearty handshake and a slap on the back that nearly opened Diamond’s stitches. “What do I owe you?”
“Our account is balanced,” Diamond said, holding up the bag with the money.
“I’m sorry to see you moseying on,” Evans said.
“A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do. Hasta la vista.”
“Hasty banana, cowpoke. You’re one of a kind. A real ace.”
“An ace of diamonds?”
“The best suit.”
Norris was waiting outside, a round box under his arm.
“We’re truly sorry to see you leave, Mr. Diamond,” he said. “I’m to expedite your travel arrangements. Do you want to fly out today?”
“I’d rather drive,” Diamond said. “I like being behind the wheel. And I could use the time to think. Can I get a car?”
Norris nodded and they walked to the elevator. A car was ready for them down in the garage.
“Are you sure you’ll be able to drive with that?” Norris said, indicating Diamond’s injured arm.
“Piece of cake.”
Norris opened the door and Diamond slid into the red 1972 Mustang.
“Is there anything else I might do for you?” the manservant asked.
“I’m fine. Take it easy.”
“One final matter. This is for you,” Norris said, handing the box to Diamond. “With Mr. Evans’s best wishes.”
“Thanks,” the P.I. said, putting it next to the moneybag and starting the engine. He gave a brief wave and was off.
Diamond took his time in the city, checking for tails and getting a last glimpse of the town that Bugsy built. The sun made it look clean, but old, like a fading blonde who had gotten religion, but still turned a few tricks on the side.
The car’s engine hummed smoothly. There were only a few hundred miles on the odometer. But the air-conditioned air had an unpleasant smell. Gasoline and smoke. Perfume and blood.
It wasn’t the car. The money that Collins had died with was on the seat next to him, the source of a stench as foul as a Chicago stockyard.
He knew what he had to do. The wheels screeched as he made a U-turn and headed back to the Ace of Diamonds. He parked and took the elevator to the office marked ROSIE WASHINGTON—CHIEF OF SECURITY.
The secretary was a beefy guy who looked like he’d be better with a machine gun than a Dictaphone. Red recognized him from the night at Greenberg’s ranch. The man nodded and buzzed the P.I. into the inner office.
A surprised Rosie jumped up from behind the glass top desk where she was reviewing papers. Clad in a form fitting dress suit, she ran to Diamond and gave him a hug.
“I thought you were leaving without saying goodbye,” she said tearfully.
“I’m like a bad penny. I keep turning up.”
“I’m glad you did. Do you have to go?”
He nodded. “I know how you feel. It’s why I was gonna check out without stopping at your desk. Like pulling off a bandage, the quicker, the less pain.”
It was her turn to nod.
“I got a favor to ask,” he said.
“Name it.”
He handed her the satchel of cash. “There’s two kids up on the north side. J.C. and Rocky. Both about fourteen, kind of skinny. Rocky’s got his name tattooed on his hand.” He gave her the address of the baseball field.
“The kids saved my life,” Diamond continued. “And they gave me some good information. I want this money to go into a trust fund. They get it for their schooling.”
“You don’t want any of it?”
‘To me it’s dirty money. To them it might do some good. Besides, I’m a couple a grand ahead,” Diamond said, patting his wallet. “And they can use it more than me.”
She took the money and put it in a wall safe. “Consider it done. I’ll put Rusty right on it. He felt bad about getting knocked out by Gulo.”
“How’s Rusty doing?”
“Fine. Only his pride was hurt.”
“Give him my best,” Diamond said. “Anyway, as Tex would say, I got to mosey on down the road.”
“I wish you didn’t have to.”
“I do too. You take care.”
“You too,” she said stiffly. He heard a sniffle as he shut the door behind him.
He was on the road again. He opened the car windows wide and let the fresh air blow across his face. It was getting hot. By the time he hit the interstate, the stench of the money was gone.
The box Norris had handed him was still there. He pulled to the side of the road and opened it. Inside was a gray, ten-gallon Stetson, with a hatband studded with diamonds. To replace the cap you lost at the gunfight, the note from Tex read.
He put the hat on his head. A perfect fit.
Tex was a class guy. And Rosie was something special too. He had a feeling he’d be seeing them again.
He was richer than he had been when he arrived in Vegas. How many people could leave the city and say that? He’d put a few more of Rocco’s legions on ice, though he had no doubt the killers would be easy enough to replace.
It was time to go back to where he lived, the city of fallen angels. Fifi would be there. And Rocco. And a chance to settle that long overdue bill.
“Giddyap,” he said, tapping the accelerator. The horsepower under the Mustang’s hood responded.
He began singing “Don’t Fence Me In” as he galloped off. He’d reach Los Angeles in time for the sunset.
* * *