Lucas thought he felt a vein pop out in his temple. "Aw, for Christ's sakes."
"Hey. She's got the eye and she's got the balls," Carey said. "And she's apparently got the source."
"Aw, sweet bleedin' Jesus," Lucas said. "Where is she?"
"Downtown St. Paul, somewhere," Carey said. "You've got her cell phone?"
"Yeah. Have you tried it?"
"No, because then she'd know that I was the one who told you," Carey said. "I rather she didn't know that."
"Okay. Good-bye. Hey-thanks."
Letty answered on the third ring. "Hello, Dad?"
"Where are you?"
"Up at the Capitol," Letty said. "The big march is about to start, there are about a million people, I'm watching these black-flag guys…"
"Go home," Lucas said.
"What?"
"Go home. I'm going to call your mom to pick you up," Lucas said.
"I'm on my bike," Letty said. "But I can't go right now."
"Letty, go right now."
After a long silence, Letty asked, "Who told you? Lois?"
"Just go home, Letty," Lucas said.
"Bullshit. I'm going to march with my bike," she said. "I might not ever get to do this again for the rest of my life. Then I'll go home. I'm not with Juliet anymore."
"Letty, goddamnit'"
"I'm turning off my phone," she said, "Since you can't seem to handle this in an adult manner." She was gone.
The women in Lucas's life reduced him to a chattering-chipmunk state about once a month. If not Letty, then Weather; if not Weather, then Jennifer Carey, mother of his other daughter; if not Carey, then Elle Kruger, a nun and lifelong friend; if not her, then Carol, his secretary. They were, he sometimes thought, when he had time to think about it, all crazier than a barrel of hair. All of them together, and also taken as individuals. But this, he thought, took the everlasting triple-decker chocolate-fudge cake.
He was already rolling into downtown Minneapolis, thinking about the best way to get turned around to head back to St. Paul, when it occurred to him that if he went back, he (a) wouldn't find her in the crowd, and (b) if he found her, what would he do with her bike? He was driving a Porsche, and (c) if he did find her, would he try to force her into the car? Knowing Letty, she'd probably start screaming for help.
Well, maybe not that. She'd just be ' disappointed in him and she'd probably cry. That would break his heart.
Besides, she said she wasn't with the hooker anymore. She didn't usually lie to him, though she did sometimes. She was the toughest kid he'd ever met, and also the most levelheaded.
St. He took a deep breath, relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. "Hell to pay when I get home," he muttered to himself. He stopped looking for a place to turn around, and headed into the Minneapolis loop.
John Wilson was sitting upright in bed, his bludgeoned left eye unwrapped and looking like he'd been hit with an electric sander. He'd just gotten a strawberry shake when Lucas arrived, and was sucking a blob of whipped cream through a straw. Jones was leaning against the air conditioner and said, "Hey." Wilson's assistant, Lorelei Johnson, and Bart Spellman, the third victim, were propped in bedside chairs.
Lucas told the three of them about the murder of Charles Dee: "You guys were pretty lucky, in a way," Lucas said. "They banged you around a little, but now they've killed someone. We know it and they know we know it. The next people who run into them might not be so lucky."
"So Rick said you had an idea," Wilson said, nodding at Jones.
Lucas put a finger to his lower lip, thought a moment about how to lay it out, then said, "Okay. Somewhere back down the line-days ago, weeks ago-somebody gave Cohn information on where you'd be staying, when you'd be there, how much money you'd be carrying, and probably, how long you'd be carrying it."
Quick series of glances, but Lucas held up his hand and said, "Hold on ' I'm not asking for a statement, I'm speculating on how this must have happened. Somebody knew those things and could point Cohn at you. The question is, who would have that information, on both of you? The details of where you'd be staying?"
Wilson and Spellman looked at each other, frowning, then Johnson suggested, "Travel agency?"
Wilson said to Spellman, "We use Dole," and Spellman shook his head. "I did mine online, direct with the hotel."
"How about the hotel?" Wilson asked.
Johnson frowned, shook her head: "How would they know about the money?"
"How about some kind of lobby group back in Washington?" Lucas asked, but Johnson waved him off.
"No, no, no, that wouldn't be it' You get all kinds of talk, who is going with who, who is staying with who, but you wouldn't get room numbers."
"People would tell people ' you guys probably told people where you'd be staying," Lucas said.
"Yeah, but how would one person gather all the names up, with hotels?" Johnson asked.
Spellman said, "They've only got two. That's not a lot."
"Two for now-but I expect there'll be more," Lucas said. "The money's too easy. Plus, we think they need more money than they've gotten. The New York cops think Cohn's trying to retire, and the money gets cut up between several people."
Jones jumped in: "Do you remember anybody chatting you up, about where you were staying, and all that? Who was with who? Somebody unusual, who you might not normally have been talking to about it?"
They all shook their heads. Wilson said, "I didn't talk to anybody about it. I mean, people know about me and Lorelei'"
Johnson looked at Lucas and said, "I'm not entirely unmarried. Almost, but not quite, so we don't talk about traveling together."
Lucas nodded. "Okay."
Again, Spellman and Wilson looked at each other. Spellman finally said, "You know, there are a certain number of guys who know each other, like I know Johnny here. One of those guys could probably make you a list."
"If they had names, they could get room numbers-they could just do a social hack," Wilson said. To Lucas, "A social hack'"
"I know what it is," Lucas said.
Jones said, "So you think they got a list, and then they bullshitted people into giving them room numbers? Like bellmen or desk clerks or wives or whatever?"
Lucas: "No. Couldn't be that way. Had to be back in time. Days ago, or maybe weeks. Cohn flew in from England, where he'd been hiding out. And it was all planned-they were ready to go as soon as they got here. They had a guy in a room-service uniform, that was specific to the High Hat. Their whole method of operation, the way they've done things in the past, and now this time, suggest it was all carefully planned. The hotel was scouted. They knew the route in and out. Then when we unexpectedly popped them at their motel, they had a can of gas on hand and burned it down."
"Jesus," Spellman said. "You're starting to scare me ' But-they had to get the room numbers at the last minute. I didn't know what my room number was until I checked in, and I only checked in about six hours before they robbed me."
Johnson said to Spellman, "Not necessarily. Did you get a special rate through the hospitality guys?"
Spellman said, "Yeah, the standard."
"So did we," Wilson said.
Johnson said to Lucas, "The Republican hospitality committee would know where we were. They assigned rooms. They'd have a block of rooms, and a chart they'd fill in, depending, you know, on your status. What you do. If you're like us, you get a pretty nice room, but not right in with the delegates. Somebody on the committee had to know who was who…"
"You know that for sure?" Lucas asked.
"I used to do it, for car-sales association conventions," she said.