by B. V. Larson
“Is this some kind of apology?” she asked.
“For what?”
“For not calling me.”
“I didn’t know we were that close.”
She laughed and savored her wine. I took off my coat and went to use her bathroom. When I returned, I saw she had my pistol in her hands. She was inspecting it critically.
“Um,” I said, “is there a problem?”
She sniffed the gun barrel. “This thing has been fired. Did you kill someone?”
I tilted my head quizzically. Holly had asked me a similar question. Jenna had gone as far as digging the gun out of my pocket to have a sniff. How did these women come to suspect these things?
“When was I voted ‘most likely to commit murder’?” I demanded.
“When you showed up late looking banged-up, scared, and soaked in fine wine.”
Women never liked it when you wandered back to them late at night smelling of booze.
“Can’t you just drink your wine?” I asked.
“Did you do something awful, or not?”
“Sort of,” I said.
Jenna frowned and pulled her legs up onto her chair with her.
“Sort of?” she asked, hugging her knees and looking over them at me. “What the hell do you mean, sort of? How do you sort of kill somebody?”
“When you’re not sure the victim was a person in the first place,” I said. “I mean, when you aren’t sure they qualify as human.”
Now I had her full attention. I gave her the story then, leaving out the part about stealing the finger. She was particularly interested in my description of McKesson’s watch.
“That’s how he’s been doing it,” she said. She rested her chin on her knees and stared at nothing intently. “He always knows where one of these doorways is going to open.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but apparently he doesn’t know exactly when. This time they showed up hours after he’d been given the clue.”
“Still, it’s a great power to have. My wedding ring looks unimportant by comparison.”
“Well, his watch hasn’t paid any hotel bills.”
She put her hand on my wrist while I poured a fresh glass of wine. I looked at her in surprise.
“I want that watch,” she said.
I studied her face. “It might not tell you where to find Robert,” I said.
“It’s better than sitting here, doing nothing. If I’d been swallowed by the tornado, I’m sure Robert would be risking everything to find me.”
I nodded, distracted by her fine legs. Maybe he would.
“Will you help me get that watch, Draith?” she asked.
“He’s got a gun and a badge, you know,” I said. “He’s got a police force backing him up. Maybe other organizations, as well.”
She sipped her wine. “I know.”
I yawned. It had been a long night. “What about your plan to camp out here until Robert returns?”
“McKesson isn’t here. He’s never even called or questioned me since that first night. I think he’s following the watch. That means there is no way this spot will open up again soon. I’m wasting my time, while Robert is—someplace else. I’m haunted by the idea he’s screaming my name right now.”
“What could you do, even if you had the watch? Even if you found the next connection point? Would you jump through into the unknown?”
Jenna hesitated, biting her lip. “I would if you went with me.”
I shook my head. “You haven’t seen these guys—if Robert is even in the same place. McKesson indicated there are several possible places that might connect with our world.”
Defeated, Jenna studied her hands. I figured she was about to start crying. I’m a sucker for that, so I stood up and took a step toward the door. “I suppose I should go for now. I’ll call you.”
“Don’t go,” she said.
“I need to find a place to sleep.”
She flashed her eyes at me, then looked down again. “Stay here.”
I looked sidelong at the king-sized bed. It was inviting. There wasn’t a couch in the room, so I supposed she meant I could lie down there.
“Um,” I said, “OK, I guess.”
She nodded, not looking at me. She got up slowly and headed for the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute,” she said.
I removed my coat and put the gun and phone on the nightstand. I stretched out on the bed and as soon as my head hit the pillow, I saw a few swirling half dreams. I thought to myself that the gun battle had combined with the wine and really exhausted me.
I felt a hand touch my cheek, and snapped awake.
Jenna was there, kneeling on the bed beside me. She had nothing on but a gauzy, see-through nightgown. It was pink and made of sheer silk. When my eyes focused, they were drawn inexorably to her breasts, which filled out the nightie perfectly. My mouth and eyes opened wide.
She smiled at me with trembling lips. A single tear wet her left eye. “Is this what you wanted?” she murmured.
I realized immediately that there had been a gross misunderstanding. She had thought I needed convincing in order to help her find her husband. I was surprised and uncertain as to how to handle the situation—so I did it badly.
“Hold on,” I said, scooting backward and lifting myself into a sitting position. “I didn’t mean—you’re a married woman, Jenna.”
Her eyes searched mine in surprise. She quickly realized her mistake and crossed her arms over her breasts. She turned away, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” she snapped. “It was a misunderstanding.”
“No, no, no,” I said, giving my head a shake. I tried to wake my mind up, to get a coherent thought out of myself. I knew a bad moment like this could ruin everything with a girl. I frowned at myself for having such ideas. I reminded myself she was a desperate bride, not a pickup from a bar, and I didn’t know anything about her past relationships with men.
I sighed and patted her knee clumsily. “All right,” I said. “I’ll give it a try.”
Her eyes slid back to my face. “You’ll try to get the watch for me?”
“Yeah,” I said, “or find Robert some other way. Why not?”
She thanked me with a quiet kiss on the forehead. I heaved another sigh. How did I get into these things? I was a sucker, I thought. There wasn’t any other explanation.
Jenna slid into the bed next to me and we turned out the lights. We lay there quietly without touching each other. The bed was big, but I could still sense her presence nearby in the darkness. I listened to her breathing until it became slow and even.
I thought about the sexy, see-through nightie she was wearing. It must have been meant for Robert. That poor bastard was really missing out.
Falling asleep again was hard to do, but I managed it eventually.
The next day, I treated Jenna to breakfast—even though it was early afternoon by then. In return, she treated me to a small shopping spree. I had very little in the way of personal possessions. She dragged me from store to store in the clothing level of the mall that adjoined the hotel lobby. I’d soon dressed myself in a random fashion. I chose a baseball cap that was essentially an advertisement for the Lucky Seven, a T-shirt with a cactus on it, and a pair of gray slacks.
“That’s not going to work,” she said, eyeing me critically. “That’s just not acceptable.”
“I like the hat,” I offered. “It will make me fit in as a tourist.”
She laughed quietly at me and dragged me back into the stores. I soon found myself wearing jeans, a hoodie, and running shoes.
“This looks like what I got from—I mean, it looks like the outfit I came in with,” I said. I’d almost brought up Holly, but decided I didn’t want to answer any questions about her right now. When she had asked anything about what I’d been up to, I said I’d spent my nights hanging out with McKesson—which was technically true. But I’d spent the days sleeping on a stripper’s couch. Somehow, I figured that detail wouldn’t uplift Jenna’s
opinion of me. How strange it was to be drifting from place to place—mostly from one woman’s borrowed bed to another. At some point I needed to find a place of my own. And some memories.
“At least this outfit is new and doesn’t reek of wine,” she said. “Besides, it suits you. You aren’t going to pass for a tourist anyway—you look a little too dangerous. But this outfit will let you blend in, which will make our mission easier.”
I eyed myself in a mirror, thinking about what she said. Apparently, I appeared somewhat thuggish in her opinion. I saw short dark hair and dark, serious eyes. I was average in height, but with broad shoulders and a strong chin. I needed a shave. I pulled the hood up experimentally. I had to admit, I looked like I might rob the store. As if to confirm it, the Asian woman who ran the small clothing place stared at me with a clear mixture of worry and suspicion. I put the hood back down, smiled, and paid with Tony’s money. As I did every time I spent his cash, I promised silently to learn the truth of his death.
Next, I bought a new bag to carry all my new stuff. It was made of soft black leather, and I slung it over my shoulder. The smell of the fresh leather was pleasant. It brought back vague memories of plane trips and hotel rooms. I had the feeling I’d traveled a lot in my lifetime—I just couldn’t recall the details.
Jenna kept talking about our mission, meaning the removal of McKesson’s watch. I was still uncertain about that part of her plan. I could see the value of having the watch to find her husband, but McKesson wasn’t going to give it up without a fight. I was still hoping we could use it to find her missing groom, but preferably with the detective’s cooperation. I hoped she didn’t notice my reluctance in the matter. I had promised her I would help get the watch—but that had been under duress. Men were liable to say anything when faced with breasts after midnight. “How are you going to do it?” she asked me finally when we’d left the last store. In addition to the clothes, I now had a full shaving kit with all the essentials. After a few days of being homeless, I was looking forward to brushing my teeth with an actual toothbrush.
“Do what?” I asked.
“Do you think he ever takes it off?” she whispered. “Can we get it from his nightstand?”
I stared at her for a moment. “I figured we would just put a gun in his face and take it,” I said.
She looked horrified. “Let’s not try that.”
I shook my head bemusedly as I led the way to the elevators. I had been joking about a stickup, but she hadn’t picked up on that. She kept scheming on the way back up to the eighteenth floor.
Halfway down the hall to her room, I paused and put a hand up. She stopped talking in midsentence, looking around with wide eyes.
“Is someone listening?” she asked.
I pointed to the door handle. The tag we’d used to summon the maid service had fallen off and lay on the carpet. It was tucked half under the door. It had clearly been knocked loose and dropped as someone entered. The maid would have hung it back on the door handle, so I was suspicious. I pointed to it and leaned close to her ear.
“Someone is in the room,” I whispered.
Jenna stared at me and shook her head. I stepped to the adjacent door and tapped on it. There was no answer. I slipped on my sunglasses.
I felt her hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure?” she whispered.
“No, but I’m suspicious enough to make sure,” I said.
The sunglasses worked, as always. I twisted the locked door open. It gave way with the steady application of pressure, causing only a small clicking sound. I pushed it open. No one was in the room. The bed was made and the room looked vacant. The two of us slipped inside.
“Is this what life is like for you?” Jenna breathed. “I have to admit, it’s exciting—if a little crazy.”
“It’s been wild lately,” I agreed. I headed to the balcony, threw the door open, and stepped outside.
There was the small matter of making an eight-foot leap to the next balcony, with a hundred-and-fifty-foot drop under my feet. I hesitated as the dry winds gusted up and made my hair ruffle.
“Come over here and give me a bit of luck,” I said to Jenna.
She slipped on her wedding ring. “You’re crazy. I don’t think it will work on something as large as a jumping person.”
“Maybe it’s all psychological,” I said, “but I want your blessing anyway.”
Jenna obliged by touching my shoulder with the ring firmly on her finger. I felt a sickening wrench in my belly as I jumped. I landed and wobbled for a moment, struggling to lever myself over the railing. The uncontrollable surge of adrenalin gave me an instant headache. Every part of my body strained to get away from the open space below me. My feet and teeth ached in a moment of near panic.
Then I was over the rail and safe. I got to my feet and turned back to Jenna, who had watched everything closely.
“Go out and make noise in the hallway,” I told her. “Find a maid and start an argument or something.”
Jenna nodded and disappeared. I waited about a minute, and then tried the sliding glass door. It was locked, of course. The sunglasses were soon out and on my face again. A moment later, the door clacked quietly and slid open.
I had my gun in my hand and I steeled myself. I nudged open those thick blackout curtains every hotel had, and peeked inside.
The room was dark. I knew I was letting in too much light. I stepped inside and tucked the curtains behind me.
There was a figure standing at the door with a gun of his own. He was using the peephole to observe the hallway, where I could hear Jenna shouting about something.
With my pistol aimed at his back, I flipped on the lights. “Drop your gun,” I said in an officious, coplike voice. The man turned, lowering his weapon, but not quite letting go of it. We regarded one another in surprise and recognition. It was Bernard Kinley, the pit boss I’d met a few nights ago in the casino. He was as short, bald, and angry as ever.
“How’d you get in here, you cock-sucker?” Bernie hissed at me. His expensive suit was rumpled and his embarrassing comb-over had puffed up in the center like shark fin. I almost smiled at his bulging eyes and angry stare.
“Good to see you too, Bernie,” I said evenly. I kept my pistol leveled on his chest and walked slowly closer to him.
“You’re some kind of freak like the rest of them, aren’t you?”
“Listen, this conversation is really uplifting, but aren’t you supposed to be watching for card-counters or something downstairs?”
He glared at me, his eyes narrowing to a squint. “Not anymore. You did something to piss off the boss. Now I’m on permanent suspension.”
“That’s rough,” I said without a hint of sympathy. “Is that why you’re here? For revenge?”
Bernie’s eyes swept the room. “I was looking for the girl, not you.”
“Murder?” I asked. “I had you down as more of the petty-theft type.”
“What? No, I wanted a piece of her luck. I’ve never seen anything like it. Did you know she went and did that same trick in three other casinos yesterday?”
It was my turn to stare at him for a second. I hadn’t known that. No wonder she’d become so easy with her money.
“She’s gotten smarter about it too,” he said. “She hits the tables, different games. Only works them for about ten minutes, then moves on. Then after a big win, she loses for an hour—just a little cash at a time, giving back about ten percent of what she took off the house. Then she leaves. But we pit bosses talk, you know. When we see something going on, we talk, and we’ve been watching her, house to house.”
My little Jenna, I thought. I was proud of her. She had learned a new game quickly. In fact, she had learned it so well she had been smart enough to tell no one about it. Not even me. But I knew the casinos still didn’t like to lose.
“If you told everyone in town that she’s a cheat, why are they still letting her play?” I asked.
Bernie smiled. “I’m not that dumb. I want
to know the trick. So I told them she lost big at the Lucky Seven. She hasn’t won enough in the other places to get kicked out. But I figure she’s taken in fifty grand or so over the last few days.”
“Not murder,” I said, nodding. “You’re a thief.”
“I don’t want her money, just her secret,” he snapped. “And she’s been stealing from the casinos anyway—somehow.”
“That gives you every right to sit in here with a gun in the dark, does it?” I asked dryly.
“You’re in here too, armed just like me.”
“Yes, but I was invited. Now drop the gun or I drop you. Which is it?”
He finally let his weapon thump down onto the carpet. I decided that Jenna had spent long enough in the hallway. I pulled out my cell and told her it was OK to come in. She did so, and was startled to see our friend the pit boss. After she found out what he was doing in her room, she became angry.
I waved away her threats and recriminations after a while. “Bernie, please take a seat over here.”
Bernie moved with ill grace, sitting in a padded armchair. It was the sort of thing they often had in nice hotel rooms. It was upholstered with a busy green print of washable microfiber. It would be a pity to put a bullet hole in it.
“You should really flip on the safety,” Bernie complained as I kept my pistol aimed at him.
“I feel safer with it flipped off.”
Jenna sat on the bed and watched him with slit-like, glaring eyes. “I’m calling the police,” she said.
I waved for her to stop. “Wait just a minute.”
“Yeah,” Bernie said nervously. “There’s no need for that.”
“Let’s talk, Mr. Kinley,” I said. “Here’s a scenario for you: a disgruntled, recently disciplined employee turns up armed inside the room of a lovely female guest. In order to get into her room, he must have used a keycard he’s no longer authorized to possess. What’s more interesting is that the female guest has recently lost her husband in that same room.”
“That’s not what I—” Bernie sputtered, interrupting.
“Let me finish painting this picture for you,” I said, pressing onward. “The ex-employee blathers about supernatural gambling powers and revenge. He claims the guest has cheated the casino—but he himself has recently told other witnesses the opposite.”
