Read Online Strangers by Bill Pronzini - Free Book Online Page B

Casino and Restaurant was the largest of the two gaming spots in town, the front entrance presided over by flashing neon-lit images of a pick and gold prospector’s pan. The interior was laid out like a squared pie cut into three more or less equal wedges. The casino was the wedge you walked into first, so that you had to pass through its noisy come-on glitter to get to the other two—a bar-lounge on the left, the restaurant on the right.
    There wasn’t much casino action at this time of day. All but one of half a dozen blackjack tables were shut down and covered, the open one occupied by a woman dealer and a male player who both looked bored; the roulette and craps layouts were dark as well. A handful of individuals were throwing their money away among the banks of modern electronic bandits: progressive slots, Video 21, Joker Is Wild video poker. The usual thin pall of tobacco smoke hung over the room, forcing me to breathe through my mouth as I made my way into the restaurant. There was a move afoot in Nevada to ban smoking in all casinos, I’d heard, and some places in Vegas and Reno had established nonsmoking sections in gaming rooms as well as where food was served, but in rural areas like Mineral Springs, where a large percentage of the population still poisoned their bodies with carcinogens, the old ways still ruled.
    Gold was the dominant color in the Lucky Strike, naturally; the employees, including Cheryl and the others working the restaurant, were all dressed in bright amber-yellow tunics. It being the tag end of the lunch hour, the place was moderately crowded with what appeared to be a mix of locals and travelers on a rest stop. Main Street out front and a nearby parking lot were lined with cars, pickups, motor homes, and long-haul trucks.
    One of the back-wall booths in Cheryl’s station was free. I caught her eye on the way to it, and she hurried over with a glass of water as soon as she finished delivering food to a couple at a window table. The tiredness that showed in her face and her movements tugged at me; she hadn’t slept much last night, either. By the time she finished her shift, she’d be half-dead on her feet.
    â€œSomething to tell me?” she asked, but the hope in her voice was threadbare. She didn’t need my headshake to know it was too soon.
    â€œCouple of things to ask. I won’t keep you long.” I had a menu in my hands, pretending to read it as I spoke. “Do you know where I can find Jimmy Oliver? Which ranch employs him?”
    She thought about it. “You might try the Neilsen ranch, the X-Bar, about five miles out River Road. I think Cody said that’s where Jimmy usually works.”
    â€œMy car’s no good for desert driving. Is what you drive an all-terrain vehicle?”
    â€œNo. Plain station wagon. But you’re welcome to borrow Cody’s Jeep. It’s in the driveway at the house.”
    â€œYou have the keys with you?”
    â€œNo, they’re inside, on the hook with the shed key by the kitchen door. The red button on the chain is for the alarm, the black one for the door locks. I’ll give you my house key and you can leave it under the bottom step in the carport—” She broke off as one of the other waitresses approached. Then, “You’d better order something so I’ll have time to get to my purse.”
    â€œHam and cheese sandwich and coffee.”
    I sipped water, waiting. It didn’t take long for her to come back with the food. She slipped the key under the sandwich plate when she set it down and I palmed it as she straightened. One of the other waitresses must have been nearby because she said in a louder voice than she’d been using, “Will there be anything else?”
    â€œNot right now, thanks.”
    â€œI’ll bring your check.”
    I made short work of the coffee and the sandwich. Cheryl gave me a brief, wan smile as I passed her on the way