“What?”
“Fucking and fighting.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, in that order. And I agree, but would have to include learning as a close second.”
“Of course you would. I’ve got to check on something,” Crocker said as he headed for the door. “I’ll call Carmen and tell her you’re still as insane as ever.”
Mancini grinned. “And as horny. Hospitals have that effect.”
When he asked Dr. Gupta about the Pelican case, the doctor referred him to the admitting nurse-a big guy with a shaved head, glowing pink skin, and a gold hoop in one ear who looked like Mr. Clean.
“No, sir, no one reported seeing a black Pelican case.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’ll double-check.”
Crocker reached into his pocket and found his cell phone. The front screen was cracked, but the device still worked. Checking his texts, several of which were from Cyndi, he saw he had a recent message from his daughter, Jenny.
He pressed the number next to her name.
“Hi, sweetheart, you okay?”
Her voice burst through the line like a bubble. “Yeah, Dad. Fine. What about you? Enjoying Las Vegas?”
“Oh, yeah. Fun town. What’s going on?”
“Not much. Kenna’s boyfriend stayed over last night, so I crashed at your apartment.”
“Anytime, sweetheart. No problem. What’s Kenna’s boyfriend like?”
“Nice. Kind of a hipster.”
He smiled at himself for asking. Knew it was a waste of time, since Jenny and her friends were grown up now and weren’t going to tell him much. Still, he couldn’t help trying.
“Dad, Cox cut off your cable TV service,” Jenny continued in a serious tone. “I called them and they said you haven’t paid your bill in months.”
“Cox?” Crocker asked. “Who’s that?”
“Your cable TV provider.”
In the past Holly had handled all the household bills. Since she’d moved out, he’d missed several deadlines, not because he was short on funds, but with the travel and everything else that was going on, he forgot.
“Give me their number,” Crocker said. “I’ll call them now and pay it over the phone.”
“Thanks, Dad. Hold on.”
The admitting nurse returned to tell him that no one had seen a black Pelican case, nor was it noted on any admittance form.
“What about the vehicle I arrived in?” Crocker asked. “That seems to be missing, too.”
“We don’t keep track of patients’ cars. But if you drove it here, it’s probably still parked in the garage.”
That sounded logical. “Thanks.”
He was trying to remember the make, model, or color of the vehicle he’d arrived in when Jenny came back on the line with the Cox Communications number. She asked if he’d be home for the holiday.
“Which holiday is that?”
“Easter, Dad. It’s in three weeks.”
He checked his mental calendar, which was foggy at best. “Yeah, I think so. I was thinking of taking you to the Coastal Grill.”
It was a fib.
“Oh, cool. But…Kenna’s parents invited me. They asked if you wanted to come, too.”
“Sure, if you think that’s okay.”
He was trying to remember whether he’d met them.
“They’re excited to meet you. I’ll tell ’em. Love you, Dad. I’ve got to go.”
Apparently he hadn’t. “Love you, too.”
It seemed like just a few months ago that Jenny was adjusting to living with him and Holly after she’d moved east because she and her mother (Crocker’s first wife) weren’t getting along. Now she was a semi-independent young woman with her own car and apartment and a host of friends he’d never met. He prayed to God she wasn’t as wild as he’d been at that age. Didn’t think so, but it was hard to know.
He walked up the parking garage ramp remembering the members of his family and the passage of time. His dad lived by himself in Fairfax, Virginia. His sister, her husband, and their two children lived outside of Raleigh. His brother and his family resided in a suburb of Boston.
Even though he was limping slightly from the bursitis in his left knee and tightness in his lower back, he still felt the urge to take a long run through the desert. It would clear his head, loosen his muscles, and reenergize him. But there were duties to take care of first.
He spotted the black Escalade covered in dirt and parked near the second-tier elevator. The Pelican case was resting in back.
As he exited the lot with the case, names and faces passed through his mind’s eye like signs in a freeway tunnel. As soon as he had the time, he’d call the various members of his family and catch up. He owed them that. His father had just turned seventy-five. His younger brother was forty-one now. Nieces and nephews were graduating from high school and going to college. He loved them all, wished them well, and hoped they still remembered him.
The Caesars Palace casino lights shone bright again, and the cacophony of slot machines and games sounded more annoying than ever. Quite a contrast to the quiet hush of the desert. He preferred its cleansing heat to this sweet, refrigerated air. Jeri stood behind the desk in Walker’s office drinking coffee and eating a doughnut, looking like she hadn’t slept.
“Crocker! Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
He shut the door behind him, rested the Pelican case on the floor, and sat. “Morning, Jeri.”
It’s not that she didn’t work hard. It’s just that she never seemed to let problems interfere with her enjoyment of life. Except now. This morning she looked worried and distracted.
“You functional? You rested?” she asked, biting into her doughnut. “I hear those dudes in the penthouse got away.”
“Affirmative to all three.” He knew she was married with grown kids, and wondered how she balanced work with personal life.
“Good. Good. And that’s too bad. Have a doughnut. Pour yourself some java.” She nodded to a Mr. Coffee on a table in the corner. Under normal circumstances he would have declined, but he hadn’t eaten since the meal with Cyndi.
Jeri coughed into her hand and said, “You know I wanted to assist you guys but was working with limited resources.”
“No problem. We handled it the best we could.” He sipped the bitter coffee and took a bite of the doughnut, which tasted stale. He set it aside.
“Your teammate okay? Manny?”
“A little banged-up. He’ll be fine.”
“I appreciate everything you guys have done. We’re comping your room and expenses, so there’s no need to check out.”
“Thanks.”
She threw the empty box in the trash, stood, and wiped sugar off the front of her blue blouse. “Stay for dinner if you want. Stay over another night. This whole mission has been a disaster-no leads, just a trashed hotel suite and a shitload of unanswered questions-so who the hell cares. Follow me.”
He walked beside her, carrying the Pelican case across the casino floor to a black SUV waiting out front.
“Where are we going?”
“Followup. Probably nothing.” They sat beside each other in the back. “Why does stuff like this always happen on my watch?” Jeri asked as the vehicle jolted to life.
He figured she was referring to an incident that had happened in ’06 while she was on President George W. Bush’s security detail during a visit to the country of Georgia when some lunatic had tossed a grenade wrapped in plaid cloth onto the podium a few feet away from the president. Jeri and the other Secret Service officers had failed to notice. Fortunately for them and the president, the grenade failed to detonate.
“We got to move on, Jeri. You know that.”
“When did you start sounding like Dr. Phil?”
She looked out the window at a passing bail bond office and a massage parlor, apparently lost in thought.
“I forgot,” Crocker said, slapping the top of the Pelican case that rested near his feet. “We recovered this last night.” He popped it opened and Jeri’s eyes widened at the sight of the shrink-wrapped hundred-dollar bills packed inside.