“Time to split up,” I said in a low voice. “Don’t hide yourselves. I need to know who is keeping you in their sight.”
As they strolled in opposite directions, I scanned the lobby methodically while pretending to read the myriad directional signs within the casino. I didn’t see the bald guy, which was no surprise. But then I saw him.
Skinny. Pale. Dressed like he’d been told to look professional by someone who had never actually been professional. He hovered near a decorative palm tree, pretending to blend in and check his phone while scanning the crowd with the subtlety of an elephant in a phone booth.
He didn’t see Basia, a visibly pregnant woman.
He didn’t see Gwen, a walking red beacon.
He definitely didn’t see me watching him.
I almost felt bad. Almost.
I pulled out my phone and called Basia. “Garage,” I murmured quietly. “Now. Don’t rush and don’t look back. Wait near the valet.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve spied a friend,” I said and hung up.
I called Gwen and gave her the same message. They each peeled off, heading toward the garage elevators. Nervous guy still hadn’t spotted them. Unbelievable.
Finally, he moved and I followed.
He wove through the lobby in short, jerky bursts, stopping too often, turning too much. I stayed several paces behind, matching his rhythm, blending into clusters of people. He was so focused on tracking, he never once thought to check if he was being tracked himself.
Amateur.
At some point, he stopped near a row of penny slots and lifted his phone to his ear. I drifted closer, pretending to study a machine as if I had strong opinions on which lever to pull.
“No, I haven’t spotted anyone, boss,” he said into the phone. “Of course I’m sure. How hard can it be to spot an obviously pregnant woman, a redhead, two brunettes, and a dog? They’re probably holed up in their room. What if you scared them and they won’t come out now?”
Pause.
“Well, they’re not here. I don’t know what you expect me to do. Security is starting to look at me funny. I may have to play a slot machine or something. No, I haven’t heard any dog barking. I would tell you if I had, wouldn’t I? And I wouldn’t miss a dog prancing through the lobby. Do you take me for an imbecile?”
I thought he probably shouldn’t have asked that question. There was another pause and his shoulders sagged.
“Well, what are we supposed to do if we don’t get her back by Monday morning? The client and the bigwigs will have a fit. We won’t get the investment funding. They’ll shut us down. I’ll lose my job, Dick. I can’t lose my job.”
Ah. There was the name.
Richard. Dick. Bald Guy. Manager.
Nervous Guy paced in a tight circle, free hand raking through his hair. “I’m trying to figure out how to get her back. I swear I am. But if they won’t leave the casino, what will we do?” His voice caught with emotion, or was it fear? “What? No, I don’t know. Just stop yelling.”
At this point, I decided to rename this guy Mr. Whiny . It was so pathetic, I almost laughed out loud. This was not a professional operation by any stretch of the imagination. This was a panic attack in khakis.
Finally, Mr. Whiny stuffed the phone in his pocket and turned in a slow, confused circle, as if the answers might appear on the carpet. I slipped away before he burst into tears and embarrassed himself further.
In the garage, the others were waiting by my car.
“Well?” Basia asked, tapping her foot.
“They’re panicking,” I said, unlocking the doors. “And they’re on the clock. Something big happens Monday morning, and they need the dog back before then.”
Gwen’s expression hardened. “Any idea what?”
“No,” I said, sliding into the driver’s seat. “But it’s big enough to make their henchman practically cry into his phone in public.” I quickly updated them on what I’d overheard.
