The Bricklayer - Boyd Noah (читать хорошую книгу полностью .txt) 📗

She glanced at her watch. “Almost two hours ago.”

“The load in the dryer is large, and the way it sounds, it’s dry. Maybe its owner was here two hours ago. Let’s wait.” She waved her agreement, and he sat down.

A couple of minutes later, the dryer snapped to a halt, and almost as if on cue, a customer pushed open the front door. A woman in her sixties, she walked carefully by Vail, giving him a suspicious glance. As she eased the dryer door open, he said, “Excuse me.” He stood up and drew his credentials, opening them for her inspection.

“FBI? I’m washing clothes, not money.”

Vail smiled appreciatively. “You’re pretty quick.” He could see how she would have been very attractive as a young woman. Mischief glinted in her eyes, and there was still a trace of Midwest in her speech, but not enough to tell on which side of the Mississippi it had been ingrained.

“Do you like fast women, Agent Vail?”

“What man doesn’t…?”

“Anna.”

He turned to Kate. “Do you have that photo?” She handed him Bertok’s credential photo and smiled at the woman. “Hi, I’m Kate Bannon.”

“You’re FBI too?”

“Actually, she’s my boss,” Vail said.

She examined Kate’s face. “You have a good look. I mean photographically. The camera would love it. You have that skin that glows on film. Even that scar seems to work.” She leaned in toward Kate and, in a loud-enough whisper for Vail to hear, said, “The help looks pretty good. Hope you’re taking advantage of your position.” She leaned back and smiled at Vail, the idea of shocking him dancing in her eyes.

“Unfortunately, she’s not,” Vail whispered back. He held up the photo of Bertok. “Have you seen this man in here today, Anna?”

“You’re asking for my help? Maybe I should take advantage of my position.”

“A good-looking woman like you, I’d be honored.”

“You sound more like a casting director than a cop.” She took the photo and turned it, holding it up to the light. “I’m still too vain to carry my glasses.” She tilted it through a couple of more angles to catch the light before handing it back. “There was a guy in here making some phone calls, but he was pretty covered up, like the Unabomber. Sunglasses, baseball cap, hooded sweatshirt pulled over the hat and tied so you couldn’t even see the color of his hair.”

“Any idea how old or tall?”

“I’ve been around here long enough to know if a guy dresses like that, you’re safer watching his moves than trying to get his vital statistics. He was up to something; I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t me. Especially when he asked for change.”

“How much did he need?” Kate asked.

“Lots, I guess. He had to be making long-distance calls. First he holds up a hundred-dollar bill, so I get the impression he’s trying to see what I had in my purse. But it looked like there was something wrong with the bill. It looked kind of raggedy.”

“Raggedy, how?” Vail asked.

“I don’t know, kind of torn, not on the edges, in the middle.”

“Like holes had been poked into it?”

“The nails,” Kate said under her breath.

The woman looked at Kate uncomprehendingly and then said, “Yeah, I guess it was holes, but it had to be bogus or something because then he says he’ll take twenty dollars for it so he can put it in the bill changer.” She pointed to the large silver box hanging on the wall at the other end of the laundry. “That’s when I knew it was a scam.”

“Did you say he made the calls?”

“Yeah. He takes the hundred and feeds it into the changer, so I knew it wasn’t real. I guess the machine read it 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.