He smirked. Bastard even smirked handsomely.
“I know, Jack. Before my time, but back then this place was it. You could fly here directly from O’Hare and back again, you know.”
I did know — the resort had once had a private airstrip.
He went on: “But in those days, this place was all about couples. I know we have to go another way now — need to attract families, and with the swimming pools and ski lifts and golf and everything, that’ll be a snap. Kids welcome!”
“Somewhere Hefner is weeping.”
Dan shrugged. “It’s not his property anymore, Jack. You know where else the money is these days? The meeting market.”
“Yeah, the meat market. Picking up babes at last call. Never grows old.”
He ignored the lame joke. “That’s the first thing I did, you know.”
“Pick a babe up at last call?”
“No, man. Break ground on our retreat chalet.”
Our drinks arrived. He was drinking bourbon on the rocks, or least something amber brown with ice in it. I sipped my rum and Diet Coke. Didn’t mind it.
Dan went on: “The new chalet is not a convention center — with ten meeting rooms in the main buildings, we’re already covered there. But the big thing these days is corporate retreats. Our retreat chalet has a nice open area for presentations and three mini-conference rooms for breaking into smaller groups. And the guests can stay right there — ten suites. We even cater the food over, to keep that retreat feel going.”
“Is that where your Cayman Islands seminar will be held?”
That froze him. He’d been all excited, sharing his big plans, and now I’d thrown him a curve. Or maybe hit him with a fastball.
I hadn’t seen him look this flummoxed since it turned out an ace of spades was my hole card.
He asked, “How the hell do you know about that, Jack?”
“The Bunnies may be gone, but I still date the occasional waitress. Where else is a girl to sleep, when the Bunny Dorm is gone?”
That of course was bullshit. I suppose Dan had mentioned the retreat chalet before, but it hadn’t got on my radar, because... why would it?
Sheer bluff.
“Well,” he said, almost whispering now, as if there was anyone around to overhear, “that’s not something we’re advertising, the seminar. It’s really a confidential affair. I hope you haven’t mentioned it to anybody.”
“Why would I?”
“Just please don’t.”
I leaned in chummily. “Who are these people, anyway, Dan? Don’t tell me this is about giving offshore banking advice to the Outfit crowd.”
He looked pale suddenly. My wisecrack hit close to home, which I’d meant it to. “This isn’t... this isn’t why you wanted to see me this afternoon, Jack... is it? I don’t see how this event has anything to do with you.”
“Maybe I’d like to participate.”
His eyes tightened, as if he were having to work to keep them from falling out of his head. “What do you mean, participate?”
“To attend. To avail myself of the opportunity to learn. To better myself.”
He was studying me like I just told him I was thinking of asking his sister out. His thirteen-year-old sister.
“Jack,” he said, still very quiet, “don’t be ridiculous. You make a nice living, I’m sure, at Wilma’s. Not what you could make if you’d take my advice and sell out to those investors I told you about. But we’re talking about an ‘invitation only’ seminar designed for people with real money.”
Now we were there.
Now it was about to get tricky.
Now there would be no turning back.
Oh, I wasn’t going to tell my buddy anything even vaguely approaching the truth. But my lies needed enough weight to get through to him. My lies would be worse than most people’s truth.
I asked, “What do you think I do for a living, Dan?”
The pale, handsome features took on quiet alarm. “What do you mean? You run a restaurant-hotel set-up.”
My mouth twitched a smile. “I don’t really run it, though, do I? I mean, I putter, but I leave most of it to my man Charley and a few others. What is it I do for a living?”
“...You sell veterinary medicine, don’t you?”
“Drugs for cows and horses and puppy dogs?”
“I suppose.”
“What if it was drugs for a bigger form of animal?”
His dark eyes were moving side to side, processing.
Then he whispered, “Is that what you do?”
I sipped rum and Diet Coke. “What I do makes it desirable for me to attend that seminar. Isn’t that enough? Is there a charge?”
He sucked air in, let it back out. “Everything was prepaid by the attendees.” A nervous smile. “Look, Jack, you couldn’t attend if you wanted to.”
“I do want to.”
He waved that off. “Well, I mean... you couldn’t attend if I wanted you to. The enrollment was cut off at five participants.”
“I happen to know one of those individuals won’t be attending.”
He looked at me unblinkingly, his mouth open. If he knew about Vanhorn’s murder, he didn’t say so. But he didn’t not say so.
I said, “I had a business partner named Vanhorn. Silent partner, but now he’s really silent. He was killed last night. It’s been on the news. WGN had the story this morning. I want to take his place at the party. Can you think of a reason why I shouldn’t?”
You can almost always tell when somebody’s mind has been blown, and this was one of those times.
This very confident man in the Pucci Chicago suit said, “I... I... I...”
“Take your time, Dan.”
“I... I guess I can... help you out with this.”
“Good. I’ll have a woman with me, no one you know. Most presentable. Very professional. Is that a problem?”
“No.” He shook his head but it was almost a shiver. “Several attendees will be accompanied by, uh, female guests.”
“Not wives, I’m guessing.”
“Not wives.” He reflected for a moment. “All right. You can attend in Mr. Vanhorn’s place.”
“Under his name? That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”
“No! It wouldn’t be. But no one is attending under his own name. Everyone’s Brown or Jones or Smith or Johnson or... you follow.”
“I do. Do you recall Mr. Vanhorn’s nom-de-plume?”
“Not off the top of my head, I don’t. But I’m checking each of them in, personally, though not in the lobby. Guests have arranged to go directly to the chalet. It has a private parking lot and drive. Nice view of the golf course, with Mountain Top backdrop.”
That was the hill people skiing here tried to talk themselves into thinking was a mountain.
“So I’ll handle your check-in,” Dan said, “and all the details.”
“All of a sudden,” I said, “I rate.”
His expression was numb. “All of a sudden, Jack... you rate.”
Eleven
The chalet itself couldn’t have been more Alpine if a late-teens Heidi with a bursting peasant blouse had greeted us with a tray of brimming beer steins. The oversize log cabin, the upper two of its three floors sporting building-width railed wooden balconies, sat against pines still touched with snow. Beyond was farmland, barns and silos and such, but all that was largely hidden from view.
Looming over the chalet, a 1,100-foot hill, complete with ski lifts, had its many trails demarcated by landscaping, fir and other trees; the currently snow-patchy, ridiculously named Mountain Top, wore pine borders at far left and far right, like sideburns ascending to an evergreen crown extending all the way across.