Moon Music (18 page)

Rukmani had offered plenty of sympathy as well as her bed for the night. But after sex, she moved away from him and drifted into her own world. Poe felt restless. Wiggling out of the soft sheets, he tiptoed away, left a note, and was out cruising the Strip at one in the morning. He still hadn't given back Remus's rental. The car lady over the phone had been a bit miffed, as the Volvo should have been returned six hours ago. But being as Poe was police, she had been cooperative if not friendly.

He pulled into valet parking at the MGM Grand, left the keys with the attendant. Walking into the lobby, straight into the Emerald City diorama. Scarecrow, Tin Man, Cowardly Lion, and Dorothy were happily romping through a twinkly-lights field of narcotic-laced poppies, just minutes away from disaster. If that wasn't a metaphor for Vegas, what was?

He got away with a couple of hands of blackjack before being given the nod. Bad timing, because he was down a couple of grand. If Ms. Lady Luck was going to be fickle tonight, he might as well work.

He took out two pictures—the composite of Mr. Caucasian Ponytail and a full-faced mug shot of Mr. A. A. Williams minus his booking number. Poe started by showing the pictures around at the Sports Lounge, then went through the entire casino. Thirty minutes later, he proceeded on foot down Las Vegas Boulevard. Casino after casino, bar after bar. Asking the same question: Do you know or recognize either of these people? Most of the time he was met with shakes of the head. He did get "Maybe I did see him…" a few times. Taking down their names for future questions. Anything that might give him a break.

By the time he hit Caesars, he was awash in fatigue. The place was monstrously large; it was an aerobic exercise just to make it to the room elevators. He inched his way through the weekend throng, methodically working the bars as tuxedoed waitresses flitted through the pits carrying trays of complimentary drinks. Lights flashing, slots dinging and donging, smoke wafting through the area like mist. He felt a headache coming on.

Why didn't he just stay with Ruki? Why didn't she ever wake up when he left?

It was a little past four when Poe took a last look around. The floor space was so expansive he felt as if he were surveying land. Eyes sweeping past the barstools. He blinked, rubbed his aching forehead, then looked up. About one hundred feet away, he spotted a bowler hat sitting atop a ponytailed head. The figure was dressed in black and was moving toward the exit.

Poe's heart took off as he ran in long strides down the carpeted path through the casino, pushing zombied people moving slow in the wee hours of the morning. He spied

Ponytail just as he was leaving through double glass doors. Poe bolted toward the exit, stepping outside into a cool, clear, neonlit night.

A quick once-over.

A glimpse of the bowler hat under the Caesars marquee. Poe dashed down the elongated valet driveway, almost caught up with the figure. But his body must have given off some kind of extrasensory fight-or-flight vibration. Because as soon as Poe hit the public sidewalk, Ponytail started tearing down the near-empty street.

"
Hey!
" Poe shouted as he ran. "
Stop! Police!"

His voice echoed in the nighttime air; he knew Ponytail had heard it. But the cry just made the fugitive pump his legs harder, leaping like a cougar, his steps lithe and coordinated. With each beat of the pavement, the son of a bitch increased his lead.

Goddamn this job
, Poe muttered. Panting like a mutt, his chest stabbing pain as his legs stretched to the max. At full speed, trying to keep pace with the asshole. He thought about drawing his gun, then nixed the idea. He was running too fast, there were still people on the streets, and it was too dark to aim well.

"
Stop! Police!
" he screamed. "
Police!"

But Ponytail kept going, dodging cross traffic as he sprinted toward the Mirage. Poe ran harder, kept on Bowler's ass, wondering how he managed to run so fast and still keep the hat on. The fugitive kept going and going, finally ducking into Treasure Island.

Yo ho ho, my
fucking
ass!

Once inside the casino, Poe knew he was screwed. He stopped, panting hard. Wiping sweat from his face. There was no sign of the hat. The place had people even at this hour. Treasure Island was always busy during weekdays, jammed on weekends. It was a manageable casino, friendly to families, and floored lots of cheap slots and low table minimums. The kick-off night of the weekend always packed them in.

Poe's eyes skated over the floor.

No hat. No ponytail. No nothing.

A half-hour search proved fruitless. Defeated and deflated, he finally called Weinberg from a pay phone, bringing him up to date.

Poe said, "As soon as he made it through the doors, I lost visual contact. He could still be in here. But by the time we clear everything through hotel security and get the men out here to search, he could be halfway to Reno or L.A. or deep into the Mojave. It's your call, sir."

"Well, this is just terrific," Weinberg grumped. "Now the sucker knows we're onto him."

Poe reddened as he felt blood throb in his head. He held his temper in check. "Loo, all I did was follow him—"

"You had to
identify
yourself as a cop, Poe?"

"Only after he bolted from me. That's standard operational procedure—"

"Poe, how'd you let him
slip
? You're the quickest runner on the entire force."

"The guy flew like wind." Poe became enraged. "Aw,
screw
it! You want me to say I fucked up? Fine. I fucked—"

"Poe—"

"What do you want me to
do, sir
?"

"First calm down."

"I'm
calm
. Now what?"

Weinberg paused. "Did you get a good look at his face?"

"No, Loo, I did
not
get a look at his face—good or otherwise. I did, however, get a very good look at the
hat
. It was a black bowler. He was very thin and agile. I chased Stan Laurel with a ponytail."

Weinberg chuckled. "At least we know this guy really exists."

"Isn't that comforting?"

"No need for sarcasm, Romulus."

"May I go home and collapse, sir?"

"Anytime now."

Poe was about to hang up. Then he said, "I can't believe

the fucking hat stayed on during the entire chase. He must have applied Krazy Glue to his head."

Again, Weinberg laughed. "Go home and get some sleep."

"I think I'll go directly to the Bureau. Write up this miserable failure—"

"Don't whip yourself, Poe. We'll find him. See you on Monday."

Weinberg hung up. What Poe should have done next was grab a taxi back to the Grand and head out for the Bureau. Write up the chase before the scene faded from short-term memory. Instead, he headed for the Hi Ho Matey Bar. He requested a beer, lit a smoke, and glanced around the area.

Spotting the braid.

Poe waited until he had the glass in his hand. Then he took his brew and his smoke and sat down next to Y. As always, the old man was playing a poker machine. Tonight he wore a black suede shirt, black jeans, and a string tie held together with a malachite clip. A cigarette drooped from his lips. His usual plait was loosely tied and kept in place by a beaded thong.

Poe inhaled smoke, let it out slowly. "You disappeared on me a couple of nights ago."

Y dropped a dollar token in the machine. "Next time I'll write you a thank-you note."

Poe replaced Y's old cigarette with a fresh one. He put the smoke in his mouth. "Where'd you go?"

"Around."

"
Around?
My place is in the middle of nowhere."

"I'm Southern Paiute. All desert land is my home."

"Oh, stow it with that shaman crap. Your family wholesales cigarettes, ekes out a living by pocketing the difference between federal and tribal tax."

"That doesn't mean I don't know the old ways."

"The old ways?" Poe nodded. "I see. You must mean drinking yourself blind and living on welfare."

"Hostile tonight, Romulus?"

"I was concerned about you, Chief," Poe said. "You shouldn't be wandering off at night. There are animals out there—things like snakes, cougars…coyotes. Man, they were howling like the devil after you left. You could have gotten hurt."

Y lost the poker game. "You're giving me bad vibes."

"No, you're just playing poorly." Poe put a token in the machine. He wound up winning three to one. "See?"

Y moved one stool down, started playing another machine.

Poe said, "Buy you a drink?"

"Get away."

Poe was quiet. Y licked his parched lips. "Well, I suppose you could buy me something."

Poe ordered him a vodka straight up. Like drinking firewater. Y took it and drank it in several gulps. Not a word of thanks. Screw him! Poe smoked down his cigarette, crushed it, then got up to leave. Y held his arm.

"You ever look at the stars, Romulus?"

"No Indian mystic
moxoam-puts—
spirit-in-the-sky—shit, okay?"

Y smiled, his lined face cracking like parched leather. "Your mom taught you some words, Rom?"

"None of the good ones."

"Sit down."

Poe sat.

Y said, "As a kid, I knew the constellations like the back of my hand. Since the rivers were dried up…the land gone…on the reservation, there was nothing to do but drink. And when you're too young to drink, you wind up doing a lot of staring."

Y put another token in the machine.

"I know this sky like an old friend, Romulus. The Big Dipper always points me in the right direction. As far as snakes…I have my ways. If they bother me, they don't last long."

"What ways, old man? Do you insult them to death?"

Y shook his head. "Ask your mother." He pounded his

fist against the table. "Damn!" He put another coin in the slot. "You ever kill rattlers, Romulus?"

"As a kid, all the time. In the summer we used to drive out to Sunrise Mountain and shoot the suckers as the sun went down, just when they started coming out…when things cooled off. We used to sell the skins at outrageous prices to naive tourists. Mom would often make stew out of the meat."

"How is your mother?"

"Funny you should ask about her. She's coming out here to live for a while."

Y stopped playing the machine. "Who's going to take care of her?"

Poe was offended. "I am. I'm setting her up. I've found her an apartment. Now all I have to do is locate a full-time nurse."

"Ah."

"What do you mean,
ah
? I'm going to take care of her. But she's not well. She needs constant care. That's all."

Y started up the machine. "No, she is not well."

Poe studied him. "I didn't mean she's going to die tomorrow. Why did
you
say she isn't well? Do you know something I don't?"

"No. I said she isn't well because you just said she isn't well. I'm trying to be agreeable."

"Well, don't be," Poe said testily. "It doesn't suit you." Still, he was disconcerted. Even disregarding all that Indian hoo-ha, when Y made statements like that, it usually held ominous overtones. Poe said, "I'm going back to the Bureau."

Y said nothing, continued to play.

"Would you like to see her when she gets into town?"

"Yeah, I like your mother."

Poe examined Y's face. It revealed nothing. Without a word, he stood and walked away.

She came in at four-thirty, wearing a short red dress that hugged her body like a lover. Her hair was long and loose, her skin held a sweaty sheen. Not a drop of makeup except for a fresh application of lipstick. She was carrying a paper sack, tucked under her sleeveless arm. Jensen stopped pacing, too shocked for words.

"My dad still here, or did you send him home when you got in?" Alison asked.

Jensen couldn't answer. He didn't know whether he wanted to strangle her or make love to her. Instead, he surprised himself by acting the irate husband. "Where the
hell
have you been?"

She rolled her eyes and headed for the bedroom. Jensen followed, kept his voice down to a furious whisper. "I asked you a question!"

Alison shrugged. "I'll tell you if you tell me."

"I was
working
!" Spittle spewed from Jensen's mouth. "You don't believe me, ask your midget friend."

"Rom was here, Stephen, looking for you. Wondering where
you
were, since you told him you wanted to knock off early to be with
me
. He was rather stunned by your absence."

Jensen's brain started racing. That's right, Poe had said something about stopping by the house. Asshole was always…Alison was waiting for him to talk.
Think of something, you jerk!
But nothing came out.

Again, Alison rolled her eyes. "I was the one who gave him your hotel's phone number. So why don't you end this conversation before it blows up in your face."

Jensen felt his resolve weakening. He whined, "I
was
working!"

Alison threw the paper bag into the closet, tried to unzip her dress. "I'm sure you were working very hard. Help me with this thing. I think it's stuck."

Jensen went over, unzipped her dress. Quietly, he said, "Where'd you go?"

"Just out."

Just out.

Just like her mother.

God, don't even think about that.

He asked, "Anyplace in specific?"

Alison stepped away from her husband, stepped out of her dress. "I casino-hopped. I won four hundred and twenty bucks on slots. Must have been my night."

"Did you go out with…with anyone?"

"Nope, no one. Just by my lonesome."

Jensen didn't believe a word she said. Still, this time, she had been responsible enough to call her dad to watch the kids before she left. And even if she had fucked someone…no, he didn't want to think about that. Anxiety coursed through his body.

Where had Poe gone tonight? He'd said something about dinner with Rukmani. Probably at her place the entire evening.
Calm…calm. Don't press her. Don't press her
. At least she was acting normal…talking…interacting with him. Besides, she looked so damn good.