“The manager is Pierce Mulvane,” Brad said.
“You should ask for a man named Kurt Klein,” Winter said. “He’s the owner and maybe he can help you figure out who was here and why. Be a good start.”
“I’ll do that,” Watson said. He made a note and closed the pad. “The number we had for a contact for RRI is connected to an answering machine.”
“Well, looks like you’ve got this under control. If I can help you out, let me know,” Brad said.
“Your casino or not, this is my mess,” Watson said. “I wish to God it wasn’t.”
As Winter and Brad were walking back to the Jeep, Brad said, “You think the cutouts got Styer?”
“Looks like it. I think they followed White here. Maybe Styer was with him or they found out he was meeting Styer. Styer could have come out in the stretch. If they did get him, he got them back. Soon a lot of men in suits are going to swarm this place, and that could be pretty unpleasant. I think we should get clear.”
At least I can stop looking over my shoulder for a while, Winter thought.
112
The freezing rain droplets pecked at Alexa’s face as she walked toward the front porch, hands cuffed at her back, a silenced gun pressed into her spine. Styer was walking behind her, Cynthia on her left. “You try and warn them, I’ll have to kill them.”
A backlit figure appeared at the window, vanished, and the door opened. Roy Bishop and a young deputy sheriff were visible just inside.
“Hello, Cyn,” Jeff said.
“Where is young Hampton?” Styer asked in character. Alexa knew they would be fooled by the purloined voice.
“Asleep,” Roy said, smiling and extending his hand to shake Styer’s. “Good to see you…” He stopped and a cloud passed quickly behind his eyes as he realized something was wrong.
Alexa didn’t feel the gun leave her back or see Styer’s hand come up until she heard the pops, which sounded like finger snaps from the.22, spaced impossibly close together. Both men collapsed, shot at close range through their foreheads.
Cynthia yelped.
Styer shoved Alexa hard from behind, and as she flew through the open front door, she tripped on Chief Deputy Bishop’s body and crashed to the wooden floor. Cynthia went past her, landing on her right side.
Without her arms free to slow her fall, Alexa’s torso and the side of her face struck the floor hard. She waited, sure Styer would shoot her, too, but he grabbed her by her coat collar and dragged her a few feet into the house before dropping her.
Kneeling beside her, Styer said, “I think my disguise fooled them.”
“Dear God, please. You said you wouldn’t hurt them,” Alexa begged.
“They didn’t feel anything. What kind of man do you think I am?”
Cynthia whimpered loudly, but Styer aimed the gun at her and she quieted.
As Styer moved over her, Alexa’s last conscious thoughts concerned Hamp and Estelle.
113
Winter got the casino’s main number from information and asked the hotel operator to ring suite 825 for him.
After several rings, Kurt Klein’s voice came on. “Yes,” he answered pleasantly. He had no idea who was calling, because there was no caller ID on hotel phones.
“It’s Winter Massey.”
There was a short pause before Klein said, “Yes, what can I do for you?”
“There was the flash of an explosion when we were there. You and I were chatting, remember?”
“Yes? And…?”
“At the time I thought it was lightning, a transformer blowing or something, but it was actually dynamite and a lot of it. It came from an equipment storage building of yours across the Tunica County line, near the river. The place is crawling with cops, fire trucks, and EMS. Albert White’s SUV was there, along with what’s left of a limousine you own.”
“Okay, Mr. Massey, and I’m wondering why this is of interest to me?”
Winter knew by his voice that it was very much of interest to him, and he was sure Klein knew who had been out there and why.
“I just called to tell you that the sheriff of that county is going to call you very soon, as will the FBI and ATF. At least one of the people out there had a machine gun, an MP5SD, which if you look it up on the Internet under Heckler amp; Koch, you will understand the significance of. I do not want to know who was carrying that particular military-use-only weapon. Whoever it was out there is now scattered all over the landscape. I kind of thought you might want to make some inquiries of your own.”
Winter snapped the phone closed.
“You think he knew anything about it?” Brad asked.
“I doubt the old bastard is going to get any sleep tonight.”
“Did you notice that there were none of Klein’s security men at the meeting tonight?” Brad asked.
“Why would Mr. Klein need security people?” Leigh asked.
“He might need to hire some new ones,” Winter said.
“Well, it’s too late to eat,” Leigh said.
“You have to be tired,” Brad said.
“Not too tired to cook you fellows a nice thick steak. Let’s stop at the grocery and pick up a few, and we’ll go to the house. I bet your deputies could eat a hot meal about now.”
114
Styer put a knee in Cynthia’s back and taped her mouth shut. Then he removed the explosives belt she had been wearing and laid it aside. “Remember the bomb downstairs, Cynthia,” he whispered tenderly as he secured her hands and lashed her ankles with tape.
He surveyed the blood rapidly pooling under Alexa’s head and listened for any sounds of people coming to investigate the noise made by bodies hitting the floor. After a few seconds, with only the sound of the grandfather clock ticking, he heard something in the back of the house-a motor perhaps. Moving slowly down the hall he went into the kitchen, which was filled with the smell of coffee. On the table he spotted a copy of a tabloid lying open, a cup of coffee beside it. It was still hot and freshly poured.
He moved to the closed door of the utility room and realized the sound was a clothes dryer running. Someone was doing the laundry. He heard the lid of a washing machine close, the unmistakable sound of the dial being twisted and pulled, and the water running into the tub.
Crossing the hall, Styer moved back into the kitchen and sat down at the table to wait, placing the gun in his lap.
The door opened and the maid came out and turned into the kitchen, her arms holding a basket filled with folded towels. When she saw Styer, she smiled, glad to see him. Most of the locals knew the physician. “You pour you some coffee, Doc, and let me go fold these towels up. Been a busy and tragic time around here lately. I’m way behind. I didn’t know you was coming out. Take your hat and that wet coat off and stay awhile.”
“I’ll be here just a little while,” he said.
The maid’s expression changed slowly, and she tilted her head. He knew he had been pressed to make a quick study of this subject. His disguise depended on people not knowing the man more than superficially or getting a good look, and it hadn’t fooled that chief deputy either. The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly and Styer saw that despite the wide-brimmed hat pulled low, the accent and pitch of the voice, and the resemblance, she knew.
When the gun came up, she just stood wide-eyed-the proverbial deer frozen in the headlights.
“If you want to live,” he said in his own voice, “tell me where the boy is.”
“Gone,” she said, turning her eyes to the counter, where the block held a selection of knives. He knew she was trying to decide if she could get to them before he could shoot her.
“I don’t want to hurt him,” he said. “Word of honor.”
The big woman hurled the basket at him. For her size, she was amazingly agile, but of course she couldn’t out run a bullet.