Liquid Smoke

NINETEEN

I slept restlessly, images of Darcy Gill and Russell Simington clogging my mind for the better part of the night. I was out of bed early and did four hard miles next to the water, trying to clear my head and develop a plan. I knew I had to make one phone call to get the ball rolling, and it was the thing I was least looking forward to doing.

I was back at Liz’s, sweating and tired, when I sat down on the front steps and dialed Carter on my cell. He answered with a grunt. “It’s early, I know,” I said.

“Then why the fuck are you making my phone ring?” “Because we’ve got things to do.”

“We?”

I was hoping he still thought of us as a we after the previous day’s conversation. I knew I needed to explain to him a little more about why I’d kept him out of the loop, but I wasn’t going to do it over the phone.

“Yeah. You interested?”

The line hummed for a moment. Then he said, “What are we doing?”

“Feel like gambling?”

“Vegas?”

“No. Lakeside.”

“Blue hairs and penny slots?”

“You in or not?”

“Yeah.”

“Want me to pick you up?” He hesitated. “No. Where should I meet you?” That stung me a bit. It was probably his way of staying pissed at me, and I couldn’t blame him.

“Bareva Casino,” I said. “Noon alright?” “Noon’s fine.” “See you then.”

I hung up and went inside to shower.

I checked on Liz after getting dressed. She was wrapped in the sheets like a mummy. I had a hard time sleeping in even when I did sleep well. She had a hard time getting up if she didn’t have a reason. She had the day off, and there was no reason to disturb her. Plus, I knew she might try to dissuade me from going to the casino, and I didn’t feel like being dissuaded. I left her a note telling her I’d call her later and headed out.

I stopped at a café on Orange to grab some breakfast. I got down an omelet and some juice before I realized I needed to make another phone call. I paid for my meal, walked outside, and dialed the Law Offices of Gill and Gill.

Miranda answered on the first ring, sounding more annoyed than she had yesterday.

“Miranda, it’s Noah Braddock.”

“Hold on. Let me get excited,” she said.

I guessed from her tone that the police hadn’t spoken to her yet. “I need to tell you something.”

“Did you hear from Darcy?” she asked. “Because I haven’t, and I’m starting to get pissed off about it. I’ve got people calling here looking for her, and I have no idea what to tell them. And I can’t believe you just waltzed out of town without—”

“Miranda,” I said. “Shut up and listen to me.”

I could feel her making a face at the phone. “Fine. I’m listening.”

I took a deep breath. “Darcy is dead.”

“Funny, asshole. Shitty sense of humor.”

“I’m not kidding, Miranda.”

I watched several cars go by as I waited for her to say something. “You’re not kidding, are you?” she asked, her voice smaller, weaker.

“No. I wish I was. I found her body. She was in my house when I got back.”

She cleared her throat. “Okay. I’m coming to San Diego.” “Well, you might want to wait until the police get in touch with you,” I said. “They’ll probably—”

“I’m coming,” she said, and hung up.