As soon as I reached my office, I grabbed a pencil and notepad, hauled out the phone book, and chose a travel agent at random. I dialed and when she answered, I told her I needed information about a trip to Las Vegas.
"What day?"
"Don't know yet. I work until five and I'm not sure what day I want to go. What flights do you show for weekdays after six P.M.?"
"I can check," she said. I heard tappity-tap-tap in the background and after a silence, "I see two. USAir at 7:55 P.M. by way of San Francisco, arriving Las Vegas at 11:16, or United Airlines 8:30 through Los Angeles, arriving LV at 11:17 P.M."
"Where else would I find poker parlors?"
"Say again?"
"Card parlors. Poker."
"I thought you wanted to go to Las Vegas."
"I'm looking at all the options. Anything closer to home?"
"Gardena or Garden Grove. You'd have to fly to LAX and find ground transport."
"That sounds doable. What flights do you have to Los Angeles after six P.M.? I know about the United flight at 8:30. Is there anything else?"
"I show a United at 6:57, arriving in Los Angeles at 7:45."
I was taking notes as she spoke. "Oh wow, thanks. This is great."
Somewhat testily, the travel agent said, "You want to book one of these or not?"
"I'm not sure. Let's try this. Say I had a few bucks in my hot little hand. Where else could I go?"
"After six P.M. weekdays?" she said, drily.
"Exactly."
"You could try Laughlin, Nevada, though there aren't any flights into Laughlin-Bullhead unless you want to fly charter."
"Don't think so," I said.
"There's always Reno – Lake Tahoe. The same airport services both."
"Could you…"
"I'm doing it," she sang, and again I could hear her tapping her computer keys. "United Airlines departing Santa Teresa at 7:55, arrives San Fran 9:07 P.M., departs 10:20, arriving in Reno at 11:16. That's all there is."
"I'll call you back," I said, and hung up. I circled the word "Reno," thinking about Reba's former cellmate, Misty Raine, allegedly living up there. If Reba were on the run, it might make sense to try connecting with a friend. Of course, consorting with a known felon was a parole violation, but she was already racking them up, so what was one more to her?
I dialed directory assistance in Reno, the 702 area code, and asked the operator for a listing under the last name Raine. There was one: first initial M, but with no address listed. I thanked her and hung up. I drew a second circle around the word "Raine," wondering if Reba had been in touch with Misty since her release. I picked up the phone again and dialed the number I'd been given for M. Raine. After four rings, a mechanical male voice said, "No one is home. Please leave a number." So uninformative. I really hate that guy.
At 4:30, I drove back to the Lafferty estate. As I pulled into the parking pad, I was happy to note Lucinda's car was gone. Rags was asleep in a wicker chair, but he roused himself to greet me, sitting at my feet politely while I rang the bell. When Freddy let me in, Rags took the opportunity to slip inside. He followed as Freddy led me to the library where Nord was entrenched on the sofa, propped up against a mass of bed pillows and covered with a throw. He said, "I had Freddy bring me down. I couldn't stand another minute upstairs." Rags jumped up on the sofa, walked the length of Nord's body, and sniffed at his breath.
I said, "You look better. You have some color in your cheeks."
"It's temporary, but I'll take what I can get. I'm assuming you've learned something or you wouldn't be back so soon."
I told him about the gasoline receipt and my drive to Perdido, where I'd been directed to the card parlor. I related the report I'd had about her poker losses Monday night. I couldn't see any point in plaguing him with the suspicion that she'd stolen twenty-five thousand dollars so I left that part out. "Reba mentioned a stripper named Misty Raine, a former cellmate of hers. Apparently, Misty moved to Reno after she got off parole. I'm thinking if Reba's caught up in gambling, it'd be smart to scout out a place where she could also lay low -"
"In which case she might try hooking up with this friend," Nord said, idly stroking the cat.
"Right. That way, instead of laying out money for a room, she could drop it all at the tables and hope for some return. According to directory assistance, there is an 'M. Raine' in Reno, with no published address."
"But wouldn't traveling to Reno be a violation of her parole?"
"So's the gambling," I said. "There's always the possibility she'll come back before she's missed, but I hate to see her take the chance. Has she been to Reno before?"
"Often," Nord said. "But how can you be sure she's there? Her friend isn't likely to admit to it."
"That's my thought, too. Reba didn't mention Reno?"
"She never said a word."
"What about the phone company? I've been wondering if you could ask about any long-distance calls in the past seven days. A match on Misty's number would at least suggest the two have been in touch."
"I can try."
I rounded up the phone book and dialed the number for him, taking him as far as the billing department before I handed him the phone. He identified himself by name and phone number and explained what he wanted. In the most glib and convincing manner imaginable, he spun a tale of an out-of-town visitor who'd made some long-distance calls but neglected to ask for time and charges. After chatting with the woman, he jotted a number in the 702 area code to which three calls had been made. He thanked her for her help, hung up, and handed me the slip. "I'm afraid this still doesn't give you an address."
"I have a police pal and I'm hoping he can help."
Chapter 25
By the time I left Nord's it was close to 5:00. There was no point returning to the office so I headed for home. I let myself into my place and tossed my bag on a chair. Cheney had left two cranky messages wanting to know where the hell Reba was as she'd missed her 1:00 appointment with Vince and her 4:00 meeting with the FBI. I called Cheney's pager, punched in my number, and waited for the phone to ring, which it did ten minutes later.
"You called?"
"I need a favor. Can you check a phone number in Reno and get me an address?"
"Who for?"
"A friend of a friend."
"Is this about Reba?"
"Who else?"
He thought about it briefly. "She's already in more trouble than she knows. If she's up there, the best thing for all of us is to have Reno PD pick her up."
"That's one approach," I said. "On the other hand, you still need her cooperation. I'm thinking about driving up to Reno and talking her into coming back – assuming I can find her."
"Does Holloway know she's gone?"
"I doubt it, but Reba doesn't see her until Monday, which means we have five days before she'll be missed. I'd hate to do anything behind Priscilla's back so you can tell her if you like. Or…"
"Or what?"
"You can run it by your IRS buddies and see what they have to say. Maybe her value to them takes precedence and they can square it with her PO. There's plenty of time to tell Priscilla once Reba's been debriefed."
"Give me the number in Reno and I'll get back to you."
"Why don't you talk to Vince first and then I'll give you the number. We can work it out from there."
"You don't trust me?"
"Of course I trust you. He's the one I'm worried about."
"What about tonight? You want to meet me at Rosie's? I've got a couple of reports to write, but it shouldn't take me long."
"Sounds good."
"I'll be there in a bit."
I left my front door ajar and crossed the patio to Henry's. His kitchen door was open and I knocked on the frame. "Henry? It's me."
"Come on in. I'll be right there," he said.
He had a pot of homemade soup simmering on a back burner and I took that as a good sign. Henry seldom cooks or bakes when he's feeling down. His glass of Black Jack over ice was sitting on the kitchen table, the newspaper neatly folded and waiting in his rocking chair. A newly opened bottle of Chardonnay was sitting in a cooler on the counter. He appeared from the hallway with a stack of clean towels. "You should have poured yourself some wine. I opened that for you. Something I want to talk to you about. You have a few minutes?" He put the towels in a kitchen drawer and took a wineglass out of the kitchen cabinet and filled it halfway.