"Why was that?" Ali asked.
"It just seemed like a good idea to get the hell out of there before there was any trouble. Besides, I didn't want to disrupt what April was doing."
"You still haven't told us where you went," Dave said. "We need names and addresses. We also need the names of any people who might have seen you there."
Tracy's reluctance to discuss the matter was obvious in the sullen way he sucked on his cigarette and said nothing.
"We've been told that you had a bad enough gambling habit that you had to sell your Sumo Sudoku idea to the highest bidder," Dave said. "Men can change, but they seldom do. So what's the story here, Tracy? Are you back in the game again? Did you spend the afternoon at a casino someplace? Or was it somewhere less obviouslike an illegal card room, maybe? And how deep are they into you again? In some circles, gambling on credit can be a very dangerous undertaking."
The look of surprise that flashed over Tracy's face made it clear Dave had nailed him. "Where's the card room?" Dave asked.
"Upstairs over a strip club on Santa Monica called the Pink Swan," Tracy answered. "I was there all afternoon. I got there about two, and then came directly here."
Ali remembered the name from newspaper accounts about Paul's death. She also remembered Helga's account of the health club called The Body Shop. She wondered if the Pink Swan was a step up or a step down.
"The Pink Swan," she mused. "Isn't that where Paul's bachelor party was held?"
Tracy nodded. "I believe so."
"You weren't at the bachelor party?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I wasn't invited," Tracy answered. "I mean, Paul and I had a business relationship but we weren't really buddies or anything."
"Especially since it sounds to me as if you used to screw around with his bride-to-be," Ali put in.
Tracy looked at her, but he didn't bother denying it.
"This Pink Swan place," Dave persisted. "Would they have you on this afternoon's surveillance tapes? Would we be able to see what time you arrived there and when you left?"
"That's the whole point of a place like the Pink Swan," Tracy said. "There are no surveillance tapes."
A piece of the puzzle fell into place. If the Pink Swan was a surveillance-free zone, Ali realized, that might explain why no one had any record of Paul's exit from there. And who had been in charge of choosing the venue for the bachelor party? Presumably Jake Maxwell.
A pair of matching RVs nosed into the aisle and parked side by side directly across from Tracy McLaughlin's. Once the newly arrived vehicles were in place, several people exited. Laughing and talking, they set off across the parking lot toward the store entrance.
Tracy glanced at his watch. "Look," he said impatiently, "I'm tired. I had a big match today, and I have another one early tomorrow morning. Could we do this some other time?"
"My mother's missing now," Ali insisted. "What did Jake Maxwell want when he came here a little while ago?"
"It was just a scheduling glitch," he said. "One of the other guys canceled a match. Jake was hoping I could step in for him."
"So when Jake has a problem, he comes to you with it?" Dave asked.
Tracy nodded.
"Why didn't he call? You do have a cell, don't you?"
Tracy shrugged. "Maybe he wanted to get out of the house for a while."
"And maybe he didn't want there to be a record of his calling you," Dave suggested.
"Look," Tracy said, "I'm here, minding my own business, not bothering anyone"
"Is that what you were doing when you spent last night in April's room?" Ali asked. "Minding your own business?"
Clearly her pointed question surprised Tracy McLaughlin. He didn't deny that, either.
"I already told you we were friends," he said. "That's what she needed last nighta friend." He tossed his dying cigarette out into the parking lot. Ali scurried down the stairs. She retrieved the smoldering butt, ground it out, and put it in her pocket.
"What are you doing?" Tracy demanded.
"You said you weren't the baby's father," she said. "It may take a few weeks to get a real answer, but your DNA should prove it one way or the other."
"I didn't give you permission to take that," Tracy began. He started down the stairs after her, but Dave stepped up and blocked his way.
"I'm not a police officer," she said. "You tossed your trash out into a public parking lot. If I want to clean up your litter, that's my call, not yours. And if I'm willing to pay for a paternity test, that's my call, too."
Ali stepped around to the back of the Honda and studied the temporary plate. "While we're at it," she added, "tell us about this vehicle. I see you just bought iton Friday. But I was under the impression you were having a tough time financially. So where'd the money come from for a new car?"
"That's none of your business," Tracy said. "I want you to leave now, before I have to call the cops."
"I already told you," Dave said. "I am a cop."
"More cops then," Tracy said.
"By all means, call away," Ali said. "With everything that's gone on the past few days, I think they'll be interested in hearing what we all have to say."
Without another word, Tracy McLaughlin returned to his RV, slamming the door shut behind him.
"The DNA thing certainly got a reaction," Dave observed. "Now what? Back to the hotel?"
"Sure," Ali said, but once she was behind the wheel, she steered away from the entrance to the parking lot and tucked the Cayenne in among the vehicles parked near the front of the store.
"What now?" Dave asked.
"Let's just watch for a while and see if he stays put," Ali answered. "It worked once with Jake Maxwell. Maybe it'll work again with Tracy."
And it did. Less than twenty minutes later, a dark-colored Ford Windstar minivan pulled into the lot. It stopped next to Tracy's RV. The Cayenne was parked too far away for Ali and Dave to be able to make out exactly what was happening.
"Stay here," Dave said. "I'll try to get closer."
While he was out of the car, Ali's cell phone rang. "Any sign of your mother?" Bob Larson asked. Ali heard the edge of panic in her father's voice.
"Not so far," Ali returned.
"Damn," Bob muttered. "I've got a really bad feeling about this."
Ali did, too, but she didn't want to say so. "We'll find her," Ali told her father with far more confidence than she felt. We've got to!
As the call ended Dave ducked into the passenger seat and then leaned back, breathing a sigh of apparent relief. "Thank God they didn't see me," he said, "but now we know how they do it."
"Do what?"
"How Sumo Sudoku can support all those very expensive RVs."
"What are you talking about?" Ali asked.
"The sudoku thing is probably nothing but an elaborate cover. I'm guessing they're really using the RVs as part of a drug distribution network, transporting drugs up and down the West Coast with their cargoholds full of something besides those round granite rocks. I'm guessing they're moving heroin or else coke. They just unloaded a bunch of stuff from Tracy's RV and stuck it in the minivan. My guess is that Jake Maxwell came racing over here tonight to let Tracy know that we had been nosing around and that they needed to make arrangements to get rid of the goods sooner rather than later."
"Are you telling me Jake Maxwell and Paul got involved in some kind of drug-smuggling group?" Ali asked.
"That's how it looks."
By then the load transfer was finished and the van was pulling away from Tracy's RV. "They're leaving," Ali said. "Shouldn't we follow them?"
As Ali reached for the key, Dave caught her hand in midair and kept her from turning the key in the ignition.