His eyes searched hers. He was waiting for her to say something. She opened her mouth, then clamped her lips together, fighting for composure.
“Okay,” she said, when she could finally trust herself to speak. “Okay.”
“Glad that’s settled,” Vikki said briskly. “Joe, did you turn up any Rooney sightings while you were out?”
“A bagger at that Publix said he thinks he saw Rooney in there this morning,” Joe said. “He thinks Rooney was using the bathroom there to clean up, which tells me he’s probably either sleeping in his car or on the beach somewhere. I asked the duty sergeant, Fina Suarez, to put out a BOLO for him, and she promised to keep me posted, but if Rooney is sleeping out in the rough, he’s keeping a low profile. All the cops in the local beach towns have marching orders to run off vagrants, because it’s bad for tourism.”
“Speaking of tourism, I posted that photo of Rooney on the hotel-motel LISTSERV, but I haven’t seen any responses,” Letty said.
“Look, for now, let’s concentrate on the big picture—which is Evan Wingfield’s imminent arrival,” Vikki said impatiently. “We need to lock down a location for the handoff, and since you’re the local, DeCurtis, I’m thinking you need to come up with that.”
“What’d you have in mind?”
“Obviously we want it to be someplace where our people can be nearby, but unobtrusive. Is there, like, a mall anywhere around here?” the FBI agent asked.
“There’s a mall about ten miles from here,” Joe said. “But what about here?”
“Here? In the motel office?” Vikki frowned. “With people coming in and out to bitch about broken Ping-Pong paddles?”
“Here, on the property. Maybe on the beach. Why not?” Joe asked. “Our people will just look like tourists, picking up sand dollars, soaking up some rays. And it won’t be as weird as taking Maya to a mall where she’s never been before. I could be sitting with her, on a lounge chair, under a beach umbrella. Wingfield sees her, hands over the funds, and that’s when we drop the net on him. We could maybe even have Letty nearby, so Maya won’t be too freaked out.”
“Maybe,” Vikki said slowly. “If we did it late in the afternoon, itwon’t be so crowded. But what if Wingfield decides to cross us up, or gets violent? I don’t like the idea of an innocent civilian stumbling into our little drama.”
“I thought you said he isn’t a violent type,” Joe said.
“Evan hit Tanya,” Letty said.
Both cops turned to stare at her. “He did?” Vikki said.
“I had no idea until this week,” Letty admitted. “Tanya never even hinted that he’d gotten physical with her. Maya was here in the office, with me and Ava, when two of our regulars, Merwin Maples and Oscar Jensen, got into a knock-down, drag-out fight. I thought they were going to actually come to blows. Over a parking spot! When the fighting got heated, Maya lost it. That’s when she said it. That she’d seen her daddy hit her mama.”
“Dear God,” Vikki said, her face paling. “Wingfield never struck me as that kind. I mean, I always knew he was a crooked, scheming sociopath, but I never saw him as the kind that would hit a woman.”
“In front of her kid,” Joe added.
“We won’t give him the chance to get physical tomorrow,” Vikki vowed. “He’s flying down here solo, has no idea where the handoff is taking place until he gets in the car with me. And I’m not gonna tell him where we’re headed. If he tries anything with me, he’ll live to regret it.”
“And I’ll help you make that happen,” Joe said.
The office door chimed and Ava struggled in, burdened down with two armloads of groceries. Her neck was ringed with a dozen brightly colored plastic leis, and she wore a straw islander hat.
“Aloha!” she greeted the trio. “Who wants to help me get ready for bingo, Hawaiian style?”
“I was just heading back to the efficiency,” Vikki said. “Really? Hawaiian bingo?”
“The regulars love it,” Joe told her.
“I can help,” Letty said.
“Good. The rest of the stuff goes over to the recreation room. You can start blowing up the inflatable palm trees while I get thesweet-and-sour meatballs going in the Crock-Pot.” She gave her son a meaningful look. “You’re coming tonight, right? Isabelle already has plans, but I’m expecting a big crowd. Maybe fifty people.”
“Do I have to?” Joe tried to look aggrieved.
“Yes. I need you to call numbers, and you can also work security, just in case we have any more dustups over who called bingo first.” Ava reached into one of the shopping bags and pulled out a shirt with an oversize print of green palm fronds and hot-pink hibiscus blossoms. “Here’s your uniform.”
“Gaaaaah,” Joe groaned.
“Try it on,” Ava ordered, thrusting it at him.
