I disconnected and waited while Lula ate the last sausage.
“From the conversation I just heard between you and Ranger, I'm guessing they didn't deliver my bags yet,” Lula said. “So I'm going shopping. I gotta get some clothes. All that dumb-?ass airline gave me was a toothbrush.”
“I thought you gambled all your money away.”
“Yeah, but if I shop here in the hotel it goes on our room bill and Vinnie pays. It's only right he pays anyway, on account of this is a business disaster.”
I returned to the room and took a shower while Lula went shopping. We were all packed together to save some money The room had an Egyptian motif and two queen-?size beds.
Connie was sound asleep with a pillow over her face. She didn't seem to be bothered by my presence, so I ordered room service coffee and a bakery basket and put a call in to Lou Califonte.
Lou suggested he call Singh and ask him to come in to discuss a job. I was expecting a handcuff delivery sometime this morning, so I asked that Singh be given an early afternoon appointment. Califonte said he'd call back as soon as everything was in place.
I could see the mountains from my room. They were shimmering in the morning heat, smokey blue, lost behind haze. The valley floor leading to the mountains was flat desert broken by roads and strip malls and the backside of the Strip. I could see the billboard and neon sign for the Rio Hotel and Casino.
There was no place else on earth like Vegas. Even Disney couldn't compete with this. I'd been to Vegas twice before. Several years ago and then last year for the PBUS conference. I was always shocked at how fast Vegas grew. Trailer parks, McMansions, artificial lakes and fountains, bigger and more spectacular hotels and malls. They erupted overnight. It was magic. Good old-?fashioned American capitalist magic.
It was close to nine when Lula came bustling in. “Just give me a minute to jump in the shower and get dressed and I'm ready to roll,” Lula said. “This here's a shopping paradise. They got stuff here that I didn't even know existed. Everything's spandex and sequins. It's a retired ho's dream come true.”
By ten we were in a rental Taurus, heading out of town. Lula was reading the map, directing me to the address Singh had given Califonte on his job application. I wasn't making the bust at Singh's house, but I wanted to see it anyway. I wanted to make sure nothing weird was going on.
Much of the sprawl in Vegas is given up to high-?end gated golf course communities. We were deep into the sprawl, but we were on the wrong side of the tracks. We were driving past block after block of small dusty Southwest houses, not a ghetto situation of graffiti and uncollected trash, more an area of neglect by necessity. Screen doors were askew, yards were hardscrabble weed and desert dirt, cars had seen a lot of hot, dry miles.
Connie had checked on Singh's address before we left and found he was living with a woman named Susan Lu, a cocktail waitress at Caesars. So here was the Susan in Singh's life. I was guessing Singh met Lu on his business trip, communicated with her by email, and decided to move in.
The house was typical of the neighborhood. It was a modest single-?story stucco bungalow. A Joshua tree grew in the front yard. The small backyard was fenced. I didn't see Boo, but then most of the yard wasn't visible from the street.
“Sure would be tempting to knock on his door and drag his boney ass out here,” Lula said. “Then we could lock him in the trunk and go shopping.”
“We aren't that good,” I said to Lula. “We don't even have handcuffs. I'm not taking a chance on screwing this up.”
My cell phone rang. It was Lou Califonte. He was calling to tell me that he hadn't been able to get in touch with Singh. He'd spoken to Susan Lu and Lu told him Singh went out early this morning and hadn't yet returned. Lu expected Singh back by lunchtime. Califonte set up a tentative meeting for two o'clock.
“Don't you hate that?” Lula said. “Right in the middle of our time here. How are we supposed to have any fun like that? I hear Siegfried and Roy got their tigers on display. How many chances you think we're gonna get to see Siegfried's tiger?”
“Just help me get Singh back to the hotel room and you can go off for a couple hours. We don't have to leave for the airport until six-?thirty.”
“Yeah, it's not like I gotta check luggage.”
We returned to the room a little after one. Connie was still asleep with the pillow over her face. There was a small sealed cardboard box on the coffee table. The delivery from Ranger. And there was a small floral arrangement next to it. Red roses and white carnations. The card with the flowers read: You're one step behind me again. Singh's been eliminated. The game continues.
I was totally dumbstruck.
“Hey,” Lula said. “Are you okay?”
I took a step back, bumped into a chair, and sat down hard. I went lightheaded for a moment. I hadn't been expecting this. I'd been caught totally off guard. The killer knew I was in Vegas. Even worse, he had to be here, too. I was pretty sure he was telling me he'd killed Singh and, according to Susan Lu, Singh was alive this morning.
“I think he's dead,” I said.
“Who's dead?”
“Singh.”
I'd dropped the card on the floor. Lula picked it up and read it. “I don't get it,” she said.
“Just give me a second and I'll explain it to you.” I found my way to the bathroom and I stood there until I was sure I wasn't going to throw up. Lula was at the bathroom door, watching. I put a hand up. “I'm getting there,” I said. “I was just caught by surprise and it knocked the air out of me.” I left the bathroom, walked to the desk, and reread the card. The card was standard hotel stock. The flowers had been sent through the hotel.
I called the concierge and waited on hold while he traced the flowers down. He returned to tell me the order had been phoned in and placed on Carl Rosen's credit card. The hotel wasn't able to access the call origination number.