“Yeah. You interested?”
The line hummed for a moment. Then he said, “What are we doing?”
“Feel like gambling?”
“Vegas?”
“No. Lakeside.”
“Blue hairs and penny slots?”
“You in or not?”
“Yeah.”
“Want me to pick you up?” He hesitated. “No. Where should I meet you?” That stung me a bit. It was probably his way of staying pissed at me, and I couldn’t blame him.
“Bareva Casino,” I said. “Noon alright?” “Noon’s fine.” “See you then.”
I hung up and went inside to shower.
I checked on Liz after getting dressed. She was wrapped in the sheets like a mummy. I had a hard time sleeping in even when I did sleep well. She had a hard time getting up if she didn’t have a reason. She had the day off, and there was no reason to disturb her. Plus, I knew she might try to dissuade me from going to the casino, and I didn’t feel like being dissuaded. I left her a note telling her I’d call her later and headed out.
I stopped at a café on Orange to grab some breakfast. I got down an omelet and some juice before I realized I needed to make another phone call. I paid for my meal, walked outside, and dialed the Law Offices of Gill and Gill.
Miranda answered on the first ring, sounding more annoyed than she had yesterday.
“Miranda, it’s Noah Braddock.”
“Hold on. Let me get excited,” she said.
I guessed from her tone that the police hadn’t spoken to her yet. “I need to tell you something.”
“Did you hear from Darcy?” she asked. “Because I haven’t, and I’m starting to get pissed off about it. I’ve got people calling here looking for her, and I have no idea what to tell them. And I can’t believe you just waltzed out of town without—”
“Miranda,” I said. “Shut up and listen to me.”
I could feel her making a face at the phone. “Fine. I’m listening.”
I took a deep breath. “Darcy is dead.”
“Funny, asshole. Shitty sense of humor.”
“I’m not kidding, Miranda.”
I watched several cars go by as I waited for her to say something. “You’re not kidding, are you?” she asked, her voice smaller, weaker.
“No. I wish I was. I found her body. She was in my house when I got back.”
She cleared her throat. “Okay. I’m coming to San Diego.” “Well, you might want to wait until the police get in touch with you,” I said. “They’ll probably—”
“I’m coming,” she said, and hung up.
TWENTY
Lakeside was a small community on the eastern outskirts of San Diego County. When I was growing up, it was one of those places that people made fun of as if it were three states away. But as the region grew, more and more folks moved out that way seeking affordable housing, and it was no longer a forgotten outpost. The Bareva Casino had only heightened the city’s profile.
Reservation casinos were all the rage in southern California. The legality of gambling seemed grayer with the construction of each new cash cow in the nether regions of the county, and no one seemed to care. Throw up a huge monstrosity of a building with some neon lights and the chance to win money and people would come.
Bareva was no different. The casino was a castle-like structure lit up even in the afternoon. The massive parking lot was jammed with tour buses, motor coaches, and cars that had come from all over. It took me ten minutes to reach the entrance from where I left the Jeep.
Carter was waiting out front. He wore extra baggy cargo shorts, a neon-green Quiksilver T-shirt, and sandals. He was holding a Slurpee the size of a small trash can.
I motioned at the Slurpee. “Get me one?”
“Nope.”
“Thanks.”
He shrugged. “Figured we wouldn’t look that tough if both of us had one.”
“Oh.”
“But if we don’t have to look tough for whatever the fuck we are doing here, then I apologize.” He stuck his tongue out and took a long lick on the straw. “And you can have mine.” He held it out.
“I guess we’ll have to look tough.”
“Vindication.” He nodded at the casino. “Are we here to try our luck?”
“Something like that,” I said.
We walked inside. It might as well have been Las Vegas, with coins hitting trays, the relentless ringing of slot machines, bright lights, no clocks, and a noise level that made it hard to think. An occasional joyful scream as someone hit what they considered a jackpot. Old couples huddled at machines, slowly extracting quarters from a plastic bucket.
“Oh, I love the Wheel of Fortune one,” Carter said, pointing at a giant machine with his Slurpee. “I wonder if they have The Price is Right one.”
“I’ll see if we can get you a roll of quarters.”
We moved through the casino to a cage in the center that had an information sign. I asked where the administrative offices were, and we were pointed to a bank of elevators.
Riding up, Carter asked, “We applying for jobs?”
“Yeah, I thought you’d look great in one of those cocktail waitress outfits.”
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened.
“Thank you for noticing,” Carter said.
The admin floor felt like being miles away from the casino. Plush carpeting. Tasteful artwork on the walls. No incessant bell ringing. The elevator had transported us to another world.
An attractive woman with a bun of blond hair greeted us from behind an oak reception desk. “Gentlemen, how can I help you?”
Carter whispered, “Gentlemen?” and chuckled before he went back to sucking on his straw.
“We’re looking for Ben Moffitt,” I said.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Do we need one?”
She smiled patiently. “Of course. Mr. Moffitt is a very busy man.” She seemed to finally notice that we were dressed in shorts and T-shirts and one of us was enjoying a Slurpee. “Has there been a problem in the casino?”
“No, ma’am,” I said. “We were just hoping to speak with Mr. Moffitt.”
“Are you selling something?” she asked, squinting at us like that might help her figure us out.
“If you could tell him it’s in regard to San Quentin, that would be great,” I said, smiling.
She looked back and forth between us for a moment, then picked up the phone. She turned away from us as if she was looking at her computer, but I thought the move was more to keep us from hearing.
“Carolyn, I’ve got two young men out here asking to see Mr. Moffitt,” she said, apology apparent in her voice. “Regarding San Quentin?”
She looked at me, smiled, and held up a finger to indicate it would be a second. I gave her a thumbs up. Carter moved the straw up and down in the lid so that it made a horrible groaning noise. She frowned in his direction. He gave her a thumbs up, too.
Her eyes moved away again. “Alright. Certainly. Thank you, Carolyn.”
She hung up and swiveled back to us. “Gentlemen, I’m sorry. Mr. Moffitt’s schedule is full today. If you’d like to leave a card, I can have his assistant get back with you to schedule a better time.”
I pulled a card out of my pocket. “May I borrow a pen?”
She smiled, grateful that I wasn’t going to fight her on it. She passed a pen to me.
I flipped the card over and wrote “Russell Simington” on the back. I slid the card and pen to her.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d take that to him right away,” I said. “Tell him we’ll be in the casino for a while. He can find us there.”
She picked up the card. “I’d be happy to take this back, but I doubt he’ll be able to see you today. But if he should ask, where in the casino might you be?”
I turned and headed for the elevator, Carter on my heels.
“We’ll be the ones making a commotion,” I said.