Writ of Execution (36 page)

“I was staying in the background. I didn’t get to all of them.”

Nina clutched her head. “Which one? God, Paul, I can’t remember!”

“It was Doig. Short, red-haired, he reaches out his hand—”

“No. He had a strong grip. I thought, He’s compensating because he’s not tall.”

“Okay. It was Gray. He faded out of the woodwork and never said a thing.”

“No. No, not Gray. It was Jovanic—”

“Jovanic?”

“—or, wait, it was Jovanic or Munzinger or maybe Miller. They came up in a group. It was one of them! Soft kid gloves that felt like skin.”

“Which one? Take your time, take it easy. We’re stopped. Here. Breathe deep a few times. Just sit still.”

They sat in the bus lane on the bright casino strip, cars whipping by to Paul’s left. She was still holding her head as if she could wrench the information out.

“Jovanic, or Munzinger, or Miller,” she repeated. “One of them, but I just can’t remember!”

“It’s okay. Let’s go looking for all of them.”

30

PAUL SAID, AS they sat in traffic, “We’re just guessing.”

“Right.”

“Maybe Riesner’s in no danger. Maybe we ought to head straight back to my hotel room and forget about chasing around this forest of casinos.”

“Look, we’ll just find him and call Cheney. Let the police do what they are good at. We don’t have to do anything except make sure he’s safe for the moment.”

Paul breathed deeply. “Okay, then. Let’s get out the white horses and make like heroes, even though it’s the last role I want to be playing tonight.” A pause while he drove expertly around a fender-bender only to get stuck behind a long red light.

“Do you know why they use fruit and bars on the slots?” he said while they waited.

“No.”

“Because in the olden days, paying money out was illegal. The bars were for gum. The cherries stood for fruit. And that was the payout.”

“And back then, they didn’t have all that sophisticated technology, and the reels hit randomly, too,” Nina said.

“The past is always greener,” Paul said, roaring forward as the light changed to favor them. “Back then they stuck wires up the pay slots, or played phony quarters.”

“I swear I will never play another slot after this,” Nina said.

“How much do you want to bet?”

She picked up the phone once again.

“Are you calling Cheney again?” Paul asked.

“No,” she said, then, into the phone, “Sandy?”

“Whozzat,” said Sandy’s muffled voice.

“I’m sorry if I woke you, but I need help. I got to thinking about Jeff Riesner . . .”

“You do need help.” The phone clattered and Nina imagined Sandy sitting up in bed. She wondered what Sandy’s nightgown looked like.

“I remember hearing he plays poker,” she said.

“Typical loser mentality.”

“I wonder if maybe you know where.”

“Yeah, I know where.”

“Well, where?”

“It’s after ten o’clock. Joseph works hard all day, and we were sound asleep. But you woke us up to find out where that man plays cards?”

“I have my reasons.”

“No doubt,” Sandy said, waiting to hear them.

Nina gave her the condensed version.

“Let me get this straight. You found someone willing to spare us the misery of his existence and you want to interfere? I’m still asleep. In a nightmare.”

“You know we have to do something, Sandy.”

“Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.”

“Where does he play, Sandy? You have to tell me.” The phone went dead.

Nina called back. “Please don’t kid around on this, Sandy.”

“Kid!” Her voice was outraged. “I told you! I never kid!”

A murmur in the background. Nina waited, listening intently but unable to make out what was being said.

“That was Joseph,” Sandy said. “He says I gotta tell you, that I can’t mess around with his life just because that man should never have been born.”

“Joseph’s right. We don’t have any right to judge Riesner.”

Paul, listening, stifled a chuckle. Nina wagged a finger at him. Sandy snorted.

“Joseph says that man will answer to a higher justice, can you believe that? I say let’s start with a whip to his rear end and move up from that point.”

“Sandy, where does Riesner play poker?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“But you will. So tell me. Get back to sleep.”

“Prize’s. Oh, I’m gonna live to regret this. We both will.”

“Kiss your husband for me, okay?” Nina said. “He’s a good guy.”

“Good or gullible?” Sandy said. “The jury’s out.”

Nina tapped the phone again. “Busy,” she said, trying again.

“Who are you calling now?”

“Cheney. Let the police handle this.”

But Cheney was out. She left a message on his voice mail and snapped the phone into her belt holder. “Okay, Paul, back to Prize’s. Cheney won’t be gone long, and he knows where we are going. We’ll call again the minute we spot Riesner.”

“This is stupid,” Paul said. “Talk about going in circles. I want a drink.”

“Pull in right there,” Nina said, pointing at a space close to the back door. “Now, park and be good. You’ll get your drink eventually.”

“Thanks a bunch.”

They walked from the parking lot straight through double glass doors into the casino. All around bells sounded, alarms, sirens, announcements, warnings.

Paul said, “The tintinnabulation of the bells. What a tale of bankruptcy their clamorous sound foretells.”

Nina did not really expect to find Riesner but she had to make the effort. What she wouldn’t give to shuffle guilt out of her life permanently. Tonight must be her punishment for something, for the pepper spray, perhaps: having to try to keep Jeff Riesner alive to try another case.

They checked the tables in the main casino but didn’t see him or any other familiar faces, goateed or otherwise. “It’s a short walk from here to a nightcap in my room,” Paul said as they wandered around. “That’s all you’ll be allowed to wear. A nightcap.”

“I’ll have to take a taxi home.”

Paul gave the main gaming room one last survey. “He’s not here.”

At Nina’s request and against Paul’s protests, they circuited the room twice more before landing back in the same spot.

“We should be thorough,” Nina said.

“Maybe he isn’t even playing tonight! Maybe he’s hiking Tallac in the moonlight! Maybe he’s pondering his sins in the chapel at the Hilton!”

“I really think he’s here somewhere.” She didn’t want to say it, but she could feel Riesner and she could feel danger. The ringing bells were sounding warnings all around for her, and her nerves jangled in response.

“Let’s go. We’ve wasted enough attention on him. We’ve done everything we could to find the bastard. Now he’s on his own.”

“Maybe there are special rooms for high rollers. I wouldn’t know, never having been one.”

“You know, Henry Miller once said that real antagonism is based on love. You think that’s true?”

“Henry Miller made impressive bloopers now and then, too. I do not love Jeff Riesner. Are you nuts?”

“Then why are we doing this, Nina?”

She understood his perplexity but she couldn’t explain. She couldn’t bear the blight of another death. “Just a few more minutes.”

He stood with his arms crossed, leaning against a corner slot machine.

“Let’s just check for special rooms.” She pulled on him. “Please. I don’t want to face him alone.”

He didn’t budge.

“I need you.”

His arms unfolded slowly and stretched. “Oh, you shameless devil woman.”

Rather than begin by opening a hundred random doors on the main floor, they called Rossmoor’s office. Steve was out, but an assistant was happy to tell them where to go to drop a few thousand bucks. The room was on the southeastern side of the building up five steps and through a set of unmarked doors. Five or six men perched at each table. Plenty of spectators surrounded them, wives, girlfriends, wannabe gamblers.

Nina saw him first, then Paul.

In casual Armani for a change, his sleek slacks falling into ironed pleats, Jeffrey Riesner sat at three o’clock from the dealer. A glance revealed a man having a good time, but a more incisive examination of his face and bearing told Nina that he was losing. He was unhappy. He was, if the short stack of chips left in front of him was any indication, about to be cleaned out.

“Let me talk to him,” Nina said, watching Paul’s temple throb at the sight of Riesner. “He doesn’t seem to be in any immediate danger, and there’s quite a crowd here. I’ll just tell him what’s going on and we can leave.”

“I’ll call Cheney and tell him we found him. Riesner’s not going to listen to you.”

“Good.”

She came within five feet of Riesner before he noticed her. Knocking back a clear drink, he motioned for another, before turning slightly on his stool to say softly, “Get the fuck away from me, you unlucky bitch.”

“I have to talk with you.”

He turned back to his cards, laying three down for the dealer to replace. He studied his new hand.

“It’ll just take a minute.”

He pushed a stack of red chips into the center, then a stack of white, and a small stack of blue. He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing the immaculate styling.

“Do you think I would come here if it wasn’t an emergency?” Nina asked.

“Four kings,” said the man across from Riesner, spreading his cards for all to see.

“Fuck,” Riesner muttered.

“Listen,” Nina started.

“Get the hell out of my face!” he cried, slamming his cards facedown on the table, whirling around to look at her. Indifferent to the astonished stares his shout generated, he tossed a few last chips at the dealer and stood up to leave.

Nina looked around for Paul, who had temporarily disappeared, maybe gone to find a pay phone, she realized, touching the cell phone on her belt. He didn’t always carry his.

Riesner pushed past her violently, and made his way rapidly toward the exit.

“Wait!” she said, following him through the doors into the main part of the casino. But he was tall, with far longer legs, and was already yards ahead of her.

“Wait!” she shouted, but a jackpot hit somewhere, and the bells clanged. He went through the outside doors.

She ran after him.

What was this? Red thought, following his prey and the woman lawyer fast enough to stay close without being noticed. A tagalong. A complication.

He had patiently watched Jeff Riesner lose money steadily for almost an hour. By his accounts, the lawyer had lost a sizable amount, possibly more than a few thousand, and he was a poor sport, who was playing the wrong game. His emotions showed in every thick twitch of the muscles on his neck. But he was an attorney, a mighty successful one from the looks of his clothing. He had had his chance to lose big, and win big. Now it was Red’s turn.

Fortunately, some clown in bicycle gear was jumping up and down in excitement over a hit, a measly two thousand bucks, Red noted in passing swiftly through the main casino. Not even enough to buy Donna another one-carat ring. Her ring had originally cost him seven thousand. Jesus, for all the commotion, you would think he’d won a million! Some people had no sense of proportion. But the ringing and excitement had dual effects, preparing Red for what was to come by pumping up his heartbeat, and disguising his race through the casino to the parking lot.

He had his hand in his pocket on Donna’s sharpest kitchen knife. Without a gun, he was forced to rely on primitive means, but he knew where to cut to make death come quick and to keep the blood off him.

If Jessie’s lawyer got in the way, she’d go down also. A pity. Scenes of mayhem were not his bag in any way, but this might be his only chance in the foreseeable future to take Riesner down. He simply couldn’t wait any longer.

Riesner had just stepped outside when Nina caught up to him. She was out of breath, panting, and so mad at him she couldn’t see straight.

She punched him on the arm. “Listen to me, you idiot! There’s a man who may be trying to kill you! I’m warning you . . .”

But Riesner had fixed on the slight blow to his arm. His hand flew out, grabbing her by the forearm.

“Ow,” Nina said. “Let go!”

“What’s this really about?” he asked. “Huh? Are you here to finish our unfinished business? Maybe now’s the time to conduct it.”

He clamped a hand on her breast. “No bag along, huh? No hidden weapons.”

“Pay attention, you idiot—!” She looked up.

Crazy eyes under a baseball cap—a leather jacket—too small to be Jovanic—

But Riesner had glazed eyes only for her, all his fury wrapped up in that look.

“Look out!” she screamed. Using all her strength, she twisted her arm out of his grasp and pushed the astonished Riesner back into the casino.

Red couldn’t believe it. He had thrown away his chance by being overeager, an amateur’s error! He should have waited until they had gotten farther into the parking lot. . . .

Nina Reilly had recognized him. He was almost sure of it. That instant when she saw him had caused him to falter, and that hesitation had cost him the moment. Any doubt about what had to happen to her vaporized. She had to die. The smart thing would be to fade away into the dark forest of automobiles in the parking lot. He could lie in wait. But he was tired of waiting, primed perfectly with pills and alcohol to a lusty peak. A feeling washed over him. Compulsion, pulling him as strongly as the moon pulled the tides. He couldn’t quit now. He was on the verge of the biggest jackpot of his life. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t let go.

He could still win this. He was taking a big risk but he didn’t care.

The key was speed. First Riesner, then the woman. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am, then exit. Like it was before, when he had killed Amanda and Potter, before the witnesses even registered what they saw. And what would they see? An alter ego, a phantom in a baseball cap and goatee. Plenty to talk about in his clothes and disguise, but not a thing to mark who he really was, not a thing.

Removing his gloves, he wiped his hands against his jeans and replaced them. He hurried up to the casino doors. He felt his fingers reach automatically out for the handle.

Just inside the doors, Riesner tried to shake Nina off him. “Are you crazy? You’re assaulting me.” He waved at the witnesses that were turning their eyes toward the two people raising such a ruckus in the doorway.

“We have to find the security police. Right now!” Nina said, pulling him.

He pushed her. She fell back against the wall. Through blurry eyes, she saw him again, the man with the baseball cap, not running away into the darkness at all, but coming back through the double doors into the casino behind Riesner. Something glinted in his hand. Striking out with the speed of a snake, he reached out and grabbed Riesner’s thinning hair and jerked his head back, so Nina could see his wide terrified eyes. The hand with the knife came up—

And Paul’s hand, like a flat knife itself, cut upward. The man’s arm flew up and he seemed to mount into the air, holding tight to the knife. Something small and white fell out of his pocket and skidded across the floor. Paul threw him onto the ground and stepped on his arm, which made the man emit a short scream of his own. Paul ground his shoe into the man’s arm like he was stubbing out a cigarette, slowly and methodically, and the knife fell. The baseball cap rolled to a stop on the floor.