Jingle of Coins (5 page)

The manager simpered like an immature schoolgirl and patted her silver hair into place. “Hang on just a second; I’ll show it to you.”

He waited until she finished her speech about the apartment’s amenities, then took a few minutes to walk through the bedrooms. “This is perfect,” he announced when he rejoined her in the kitchen. “I’ll take it. You said the rent was nine hundred and fifty dollars, right?”

“Plus utilities.”

“Do you get many vacancies?” he asked as they walked back to the office.

“Not really. I had a one-bedroom available, but I rented it this morning.” She motioned for him to take a seat and removed a set of papers from a thick folder. “Here’s the application. I’ll need one month’s rent in advance, plus a six hundred dollar deposit.”

Emily eyed the sales woman standing at the edge of the showroom floor. “What kind of deal can you give me on the box springs and mattress?”

The sales clerk leaned forward and lowered her voice. “It’s on sale for eight hundred and fifty bucks, but I can probably get the manager to let it go for seven if you buy the living room set with it. You won’t find a better price on that sofa and chair anywhere in Vegas.”

Emily stifled a yawn and pretended to study the ceiling tiles. Seven hundred bucks wasn’t a bad price for the living room set, especially since the pattern was a perfect match for her living room. She lowered her gaze. “Tell you what,” she began. “You get your boss to give me the four-poster bed frame for sixty bucks, and I’ll buy the living room set and the mattress and box springs. And, if you can get him to throw in free delivery for next Monday, I’ll also buy the kitchen table and chairs behind you.” She pointed to a small oak table surrounded by four white chairs.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get him to okay the deal if I have to deliver the furniture myself,” the sales woman promised. “Come on. I’ll write everything up. How will you be paying for this?”

“Cash.”

“Great.” She hurried to the counter and printed out a sales ticket. Once she’d checked her addition, she handed the bill to Emily. “That will be two thousand and eighty-seven dollars.”

“Some kind of triple pay dollar slots,” Emily continued, hating herself for spinning a pack of lies so easily. “I couldn’t believe it when my machine started paying out. Luckily, I had the sense to quit after I’d lost five hundred of what I’d won. I’m spending the money on something I want, instead of giving it all back.”

The sales woman’s head bobbed up and down. “Good for you. If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll grab the delivery schedule and make sure you’re set up.”

Emily waited for the woman to return, then, once they’d confirmed the delivery address, date, and time, tucked away the receipt and returned to her car. The air conditioner coughed and sputtered when she changed the speed to high, and she noted that the flashing temperature sign on the edge of the parking lot already flashed ninety-nine degrees, even though it was only eleven o’clock.

She’d better get moving. There was enough time to check out of the hotel, swing by the apartment complex to remind Mrs. Rizutto about her promise to let in the cable people, then leave for the airport. Yep, she thought as she switched radio stations, I’ve finally turned the corner. From now on, life is only going to get better.

Glen’s thoughts centered on Emily as he swiped his badge through the time clock in the employee lounge and headed for his car. Some weird quirk of fate brought her to Vegas—and to him. He’d been working a series of double shifts since he returned from the Indian Casino in California and hadn’t had a chance to think about Emily or the tape Hoyland had given him.

A phone call he received earlier this week, however, rekindled his interest. Hoyland learned from the hearing aid manufacturer that Emily was planning to move to Vegas and needed her hearing aids before she left.

Since Glen lived and worked in Vegas, Hoyland passed the information along, hoping that he would be able to find a way to catch Emily cheating. Using Hoyland’s information, Glen followed Emily from the moment she stepped off the plane.

Opening the door to his apartment, he took one look at the décor and decided it was time to move. Today was the twenty-fifth of the month. If he told his landlady he was moving, all he’d lose would be five days rent, plus his deposit. Not too bad. Once he moved his furniture into the new place, his monthly expenditures would rise, but it wouldn’t be more than he could handle.

He grabbed a diet soda and sank into a comfortable armchair to think. He needed to find someone to follow Emily while he was working. Several names came to mind, but were quickly discarded. His gaze fell on a model car sitting on one of the bookshelves, and Pete Sanders’ name surfaced from his memory. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Pete was exactly the man he needed. More than an acquaintance, but not exactly a friend, Pete was a seasoned security veteran who knew how to do his job and keep his mouth shut. Relieved to have solved his dilemma, Glen shrugged off his clothes and stepped into the shower. Twenty minutes later, dressed in beige shorts, a blue tee shirt, and rope sandals, he drove toward the strip.

His first stop, the front desk at Golden Sphynx, confirmed that Emily Sane had already checked out. After flirting with the clerk for a few minutes, he learned that Emily’d been worried about getting to the airport in time to take the 5:56 p.m. flight back to San Diego. He breathed a sigh of relief. Having her leave so soon was a lucky break because it meant he could concentrate on getting set up for her return.

As he pulled into Pete’s driveway, Glen noted that things hadn’t altered much since the last time he visited. An avid car enthusiast, Pete constantly prowled the streets of Vegas in search of older cars that caught his fancy. He spent all his spare time and money restoring the antiquated vehicles, then sold them to the highest bidder. Sometimes he made money, most often not.

The sound of muffled curses led him to the rear of the house. A two-door Chevy sedan, minus the front windshield, doors, and seats, was parked on a concrete slab. Under the engine compartment, a pair of long legs encased in greasy blue coveralls and grimy work boots stuck out like skinny toothpicks.

He gently tapped the bottom of one shoe. “Anybody home?”

“What do you want?”

“It’s Glen. Interested in doing some surveillance work?” He leaned over and peered into the rear of the engine compartment. Unable to see through the maze of colored wires, engine parts, and hose lines, he waited for Pete to finish.

“I’ll be right with you.” A few minutes later there was a loud crash, followed by a string of obscenities. Shortly thereafter Pete rolled out and wiped his greasy hands on a rag. He stared at Glen for a few minutes, frowning. “What’s the job?”

“Divorce case. I need somebody to keep an eye on the wife while I’m at work. All you have to do is tell me where she goes, what she does, and who she meets. Pays a hundred bucks a day.”

Glen watched Pete disappear, then walked back to his car. So far, so good, he thought as he pulled onto the freeway. Now all he had to do was wait for Emily to return. Unfortunately, waiting was always the hardest part.

Chapter Five

Emily slowed her speed as she navigated the steep rise to the top of the mountain. The last few miles formed a series of hills and sharp curves that climbed steadily upward. Even though she kept her car in the inside lane, the feeling of dread that began as a prickle of unease on the base of her neck increased tenfold. Fighting the terror that threatened to overwhelm her, she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip and concentrated on increasing the distance between her car and the one ahead. Her Jeep inched closer to the top of the rise, and she noted with dismay a series of signs indicating a steep downward grade.

Oh God. Not only did she have to go down the other side of the mountain—she had to negotiate a six percent grade! Memories of her accident flooded her brain, bringing with them a mind-numbing panic. As she fought the terror that threatened to block out rational thought, her chest tightened and her breathing turned into painful gasps. Her vision blurred. Some rational part of her brain recognized the onset of a panic attack, so she eased the car into the emergency stopping lane. Her hands shook as she raised them to cover her mouth in an effort to calm frazzled nerves. Using the relaxation techniques she’d learned in physical therapy, she cleared her mind of conscious thought and focused on deep breathing while she counted from one to twenty. By the time she reached twelve, the painful gasps to force air into her lungs became easy breaths, and the pounding in her chest slowed to slow, rhythmic thumps.

Emily willed the rest of her body to relax. This was ridiculous. She had to go down the other side of the mountain. She couldn’t stay up here forever, and she certainly wasn’t going to allow a state trooper or worse, local cop, to drive her car down the mountain. No way was she going to take that route. She’d made it this far by herself, and by God, she could make it the rest of the way. The word coward no longer existed in her vocabulary.

“I can do this,” she told herself in a voice made unrecognizable by fear. “Six percent isn’t that steep a grade. All I have to do is hold the wheel steady and go slow. Just because I had a wreck coming down the mountain in northern California doesn’t mean I’m going to have one now. I’ll be fine. People drive down this mountain every day without incident. It’s less than a hundred miles to Vegas. I can make that. I know I can.”

Vegas lay just beyond the horizon, beckoning like a desert mirage, so close, yet far away. Emily took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. Clamping her teeth together to keep them from chattering, she started the engine and slowly merged back into traffic, making sure to stay in the far right lane. The pull of gravity and the weight of the small trailer she towed increased her speed. She watched in horror as the speedometer inched toward 70 mph.

Not again! Please, dear God—not again! Panic-induced adrenalin gave her the courage to unclamp her hands from the steering wheel and shift the transmission into a lower gear. She didn’t dare take her eyes off the road, but from the corner of her eye she could see the rocky slope climbing upward on her right. Huge boulders of all sizes and angles stuck out from the mountainside, and she prayed that she could keep her car from veering off the road into one of them. Time stretched like the sides of a rubber band as her car sped down the steep incline. Just when she felt her resolve evaporating, she reached safety in the form of the blessedly flat road at the bottom.

She’d done it! She’d made it safely down that stretch of living hell that masqueraded as a road! Her shirt stuck to her body like a clammy hand, even though the air conditioner was on full blast. Her hands ached from the death grip she’d kept on the steering wheel, and her stomach felt like a volcano ready to erupt. Unable to control the acid that rose to the back of her throat, she pulled onto the first dirt road she saw, flung open the car door, and threw up.

Her hands trembled as she pulled the door shut to block out the waves of afternoon heat that threatened to overpower her. Even the dust particles felt like fragments of hot coals striking her skin; the outside temperature had to be at least a hundred and twenty degrees. Her temples throbbed and daggers of pain shot across her skin. She gingerly massaged her scalp and took two pain tablets to stave off a full-blown migraine. Looking at the reflection in her outside mirror, she shivered and vowed to never again make the drive down that mountain. Navigating one six percent grade in her lifetime was more than enough.

The pain eased off as she rested her head against the steering wheel. Then, out of habit, she checked the dashboard gauges and noted that the temperature gauge was close to the overheated zone. Biting her lip, she turned off the air conditioner and rolled down the window before pulling back into the flow of traffic. Five miles later the needle still hadn’t moved, and common sense overrode her desire to complete the journey as quickly as possible. Much as she hated to, she’d have to stop at one of the casinos and wait for the engine to cool off. She glanced out the window and sighed. There was nothing but sand, cactus, and heat in every direction. In the distance she could see the sign for Toby Joe’s Casino. It would do nicely. Casinos were air-conditioned; she could cool off as well as the car.

As Emily stepped through the glass doors and into the foyer of Toby Joe’s, cool air caressed her parched skin. She glanced around quickly, then, instead of heading for the slot floor, opted for a small table in the back of the Gilded Saddle Steakhouse. The tingling in her temples subsided after she sipped her second glass of iced tea, and she realized it had been a good idea to take a break.

She glanced around for a clock, but there was none. Time didn’t exist in casino restaurants anymore than it did on the gambling floor. She reached into her purse and pulled out her watch. Only thirty minutes had passed. She’d probably need to wait another hour. In the intense desert heat, the engine would not cool quickly.