He was Ranger's man. RangeMan was Ranger's corporate name.
“Hey,” Lula said. “Watch who you're calling Big Bertha. Nobody tolerates that political incorrectness anymore, you little candy ass.”
“This was a terrible misunderstanding,” I told everyone. “My friends and I didn't realize he was assigned to guard me. My usual bodyguard missed his flight.”
Now they were all wondering who the hell I was that I needed a bodyguard. And that was fine by me because I wanted this to go away. We were all carrying guns, probably illegally. I had no idea what the gun laws were in Nevada.
“I thought he was going for a gun,” Lula said.
Erik struggled to get up. “I was going for my wallet. I was going to buy her some chips. I was supposed to keep my distance, but I couldn't stand watching her play anymore. She's the worst blackjack player I've ever seen.”
“Really sorry,” I said. “Can we take you to a hospital or something?”
“No! I'll be okay. Probably just a slipped disc and possibly a broken bone or two in my hand.”
“Don't worry about six o'clock,” I called after him. “I might not be going to the airport.”
He looked at me blank faced. As if taking me to the airport was too terrible to contemplate right now. “Okay,” he said. And he limped away.
“Sorry,” I said to the security people. “I guess we'll be going now, too.”
“We'll see you out,” one of the uniforms said.
We were escorted out of Caesars, the doors closed behind us, and we stood blinking in the sun, waiting for our eyes to adjust to daylight.
“That was sort of embarrassing,” Lula said.
I whipped my phone out and I called Morelli. “Reporting in,” I told him. “Anything new?”
“I was just going to call you,” Morelli said. “I know a guy on the Vegas police force. I gave him a call when I got off the phone with you and asked him to keep his eyes open for Singh. I just got a call back from him. They found Singh in his car in the airport parking lot about an hour ago. Shot twice in the back of the head, close range. We're checking the passenger lists on all Vegas flights in and out of LaGuardia, Newark, and Philadelphia.”
I had a moment's pause where I didn't know what I felt. There was an emotion struggling around inside me. Relief that there was closure on the Singh hunt. Disappointment that I hadn't been able to save him. And dread. The killer's constant presence was wearing me down.
“The Cones?” I asked.
“All present and accounted for.”
“Too bad. That would have been so easy. At least I can leave Vegas now. And I'm bringing something home with me that might be helpful. . . Singh's laptop.”
Silence at the other end. “Susan Lu gave it to you?”
“I found it on the sidewalk. I think there might have been a break-?in and the laptop got dropped and left behind somehow. And I found it.”
I wasn't sure what was going on at the other end of the connection. Either Morelli was smiling or else he was banging his head against his desk. I was going to go with smiling.
“I'll pick you up at the airport,” Morelli said. “Try to stay out of trouble. Do you need a police escort when you leave your hotel?”
“No. I've had enough police escorts for one day. Thanks anyway.” I disconnected and relayed the information about Singh. “The Vegas police found Singh at the airport an hour ago. Two bullet holes in the back of his head,” I told Connie and Lula.
“I was sort of hoping it was a bluff,” Lula said. “That the killer wasn't really here and he sent you the flowers to get you to go home. Not that I'm scared or anything.”
We all did some mental knuckle cracking and tried not to look nervous.
“We should go back to the hotel,” I said. “If we're going to make the plane we need to pack.”
Everyone agreed, so we flagged down a cab and we all piled in. I called Ranger on the way. I told him about Singh and then I told him about Salvatora.
“I already talked to Salvatora,” Ranger said. “His hand is okay, but he said he needs a chiropractor for his back.” Ranger paused and when he continued I could hear the laughter in his voice. “Salvatora said a fat woman in pink spandex and silver sequins fell on him.”