"Then where is it? She's not going to let the money out of her sight. If we figure out where she's got it, you can snag it and run."
"Oh, I can? That's nice. What about you?"
"I'm speaking figuratively," he said.
"Well, the cash isn't in her room because I've searched."
"Then she must have it with her."
"She does not. I told you that. Ah!" I heard the sound an idea makes when your brain ignites, a tiny implosion, like spontaneous combustion at the base of your skull. "Wait a minute. I got it. I think I know where it is. Come with me."
I knocked on Laura Huckaby's door. There was a pause. She was probably checking through the spy hole to see who it was. Ray was standing against the wall to the left of the door, with a look of suffering on his face. "I know how Gilbert got my release date," he said dully. "I didn't want to tell you unless I had to."
"Hush," I said under my breath. I couldn't figure out what his problem was, aside from the obvious. He'd been curiously reluctant to come up here with me, suggesting all kinds of reasons I should do it myself. I'd been adamant. For one thing, if we were caught, we could act like we were just leaving. For another, now that Chester was pissed off, I didn't want to take sole responsibility. As before, Laura opened the door a crack, leaving the chain in place.
I held up the duffel. "Hi, it's me. I'm off duty. I found this in the hall."
"Is that mine?"
"I think so. Wasn't this sitting in your closet last night?"
"How'd it get out there?"
"Beats me. I spotted it in passing and thought I'd knock," I said. "It is yours, isn't it?"
She studied it briefly. "Just a minute. I'll check." She left the door ajar, still secured by the chain, while she moved into the dressing area and opened the closet door. Ray and I exchanged a look. I knew she wasn't going to find her duffel, but I waited dutifully, playing out the charade. She returned to the door, her expression perplexed. "I guess it is mine." It was clear she didn't want to trust me, but what could she do? From her point of view, she'd been subjected to inexplicable occurrences. A lost key, a missing package, now the wandering duffel.
"I can leave it out here. You want me to do that?"
"No, that's all right." She closed the door and slipped the chain off its track. She opened the door again just wide enough for the duffel, holding her hand out as if to take it from me. I put a hand around the edge of the door, effectively preventing her from closing it.
She seemed startled by the gesture and said, "Hey!" irritably.
I hoped my smile was reassuring. "Mind if I come in? We need to talk." I pushed the door inward.
"Get away," she said, pushing back.
We grappled with the door, but Ray had moved into the picture by then, and after a mute struggle on her part, she relinquished control. She'd begun to realize that something was dreadfully wrong.
"I'm Kinsey Millhone," I said as we stepped into the room. "This is my friend Ray."
She backed up a step, taking in Ray's bruised and swollen face. "What is this?"
"We called a meeting about the money," I said. "Just between you, me, and him."
She pivoted, moving rapidly toward the bed table, where she snatched up the receiver. Ray intercepted her and banged down the button before she could press "0."
"Take it easy. We just want to talk to you," he said. He removed the receiver from her hand and dropped it in the cradle.
"Who are you? What is this, some kind of shakedown?"
"Not at all," I said. "We followed you from California. Your friend Gilbert stole some money, and Ray, here, wants it back."
Her eyes fixed on me and then jumped to him, comprehension dawning. "You're Ray Rawson."
"That's right."
She raised a hand rapidly as if to slap him in the face. Ray blocked the move and caught the blow on his arm. He grabbed her wrist with his good hand. "Don't do that," he said.
"Get your fuckin' hands off me!"
"Just give us the money and we'll leave you alone."
"It isn't yours. It belongs to Gilbert."
Ray shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Money belongs to me and a guy named Johnny Lee. Johnny died four months ago, so I'm passing his share along to his son and grandson. Gilbert tried to rip us off."
"You goddamn shit. That's not true! The money's his and you know it. You're the one who blew the whistle. His brother died because of you."