as a twenty because about twenty bucks in quarters drops down.”
“Then he made the calls?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hear any of the conversation?”
“No, the whole time he’s turned to the wall, mumbling.”
“How many calls?”
“I stopped paying attention. I don’t know, two or three, maybe. I don’t know.”
“How long did they last?”
“Not long. I’d be guessing less than a minute, I suppose,” the woman said.
“Then he left?”
“Yeah.”
“In a car?”
The mischief returned to her eyes. “Yes.”
“Anna, you little minx, you know something.”
“Yes,” she repeated. “Give me your best offer.”
“My undying gratitude.”
She put the last article of clothing in the basket. “You carry my basket out to the car, and I’ll tell you something about when he left.” Vail picked up her laundry. “He left in a car, a green midsize. Toyota or Honda, I can never tell them apart. Like I said, I knew he wasn’t right, so I watched him through the window. He drove down the block and pulled into that motel.” She walked over to the window and pointed.
“You’ve been a big help, Anna. Let’s get you out to your car.”
She took his arm formally, and as they walked out, she said, “This suit looks good on you, but do you know what you’d look even better in?”
“No, what?”
“My shower.” She looked back at Kate and said, “Sorry, doll, you snooze, you lose.”
When Vail came back in, Kate asked, “Did you get her number?”
“Hey, you never know. I might get a day off while we’re out here.”
“You construction guys,” she said, shaking her head in feigned disgust. “I got ahold of Demick. He’s sending out an evidence team. You know what this means.”
“Let me hear what you think it means.”
She looked surprised that there might be different interpretations of what they had just learned. “If Bertok has the bills that were damaged during the three-million-dollar drop, he’s got to be the Pentad.”
“Possibly,” Vail said.
“Possibly? Is anything ever a sure thing with you?”
“Why be in a hurry to make assumptions? Let’s just keep following the yellow brick road until we find the guy behind the curtain,” Vail said.
THE CONQUISTADOR MOTEL rented rooms by the hour. It appeared to have thirty to forty rooms on two floors. It was U-shaped with all the parking directly in front of the rooms. The marquee advertised special weekly rates with free adult movies. Kate stood at the Laundromat window waiting for the evidence team and watched as Vail walked into the motel’s office.
Down the street in the opposite direction, not visible through the Laundromat window, sat a green Toyota, its driver watching Vail. Keeping his hands below the dashboard, he released the magazine from his Glock and, after checking it, rammed it back into the grip of the weapon, fully seating it, and then chambered a round. Lowering the visor and flipping up the cover on the mirror, he looked at himself, trying to decide whether he was recognizable behind the sunglasses, cap, and drawn-up sweatshirt hood. He peeled off his sunglasses. His gray eyes looked tired but clear. They began to widen with anticipation.
VAIL CAME THROUGH the Laundromat door, his expression urgent. “We got to go.”
“What happened?”
“They’re gone.”
“They?”
“Our boy and his rented significant other. The manager didn’t know her, but he was sure she was a hooker.”
“Did he make Bertok’s photo?”
“Said he never saw him. She rented the room.”
“Phone calls?”
“None. But the manager wrote down his plate on the registration card.”
“What about waiting for the evidence team?”
“We don’t have to protect the scene for them. They just have to retrieve that hundred-dollar bill and dust for prints. The way that guy was covered up, I doubt he’s going to leave prints, and nobody’s going to get to that hundred until the owner comes down and opens the machine.” As they hurried to the car, Vail handed a slip of paper to her and she dialed the office, asking for the radio room.
After a few seconds, Kate said, “It’s registered to a local car rental agency. I’ll call them.” Vail started the car. After a couple of minutes of conversation, she hung up and said, “The person renting the car is an Alan Nefton at 2701 Spring Street, Los Angeles. It’s a Toyota Camry.” Kate repeated the address as she entered it into the car’s navigational system.
Vail had a map out and found the address. “It’s not far,” he said.
Kate called the radio operator again. “Check Alan Nefton’s driver’s license for a description.” Vail pulled away from the curb. After another minute, she said, “There’s no