Read Online The Secret History of Las Vegas by Chris Abani - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Chris Abani
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has been, but I do think that we can help you.
Neither twin spoke.
I am going to set up your transfer. The next time I see you will be at the institute, he said.
Tonight, Fire asked.
No, tomorrow morning, Sunil said. Iâll check you in tonight, but I wonât be there until tomorrow.
He stepped out of the cubicle, then went looking for Salazar to make transfer arrangements and to tell him to check out the motel. The curtain fell behind Sunil and the irregularly shaped stain that Fire had noticed before seemed to suddenly fill the green field of it.
I wonder if it is dried blood, Fire said, pointing at it. County, he scoffed.
A dark tree, Water said.
It was well after ten that night before Sunil finally left County Hospital.
Thirteen
B irds on a wire, a drunk leaning up against a Dumpster, a homeless man sprawled on a stained mattress in the corner between the drunk, the Dumpster, and the wall. Salazar slammed the car door and the birds took off. The wire dropped water in benediction. Fucked neighborhood, Salazar said under his breath, crossing the street to the run-down motel. THE PINK FLAMINGO , the sign said. A lone flamingo grew out of the roof of the office building. These kinds of motels had once been so important to the city. Now they were reduced to being long-term residences for those on welfare or otherwise down on their luck. A sign outside the office window offered free lunch with a room. He shuddered to think what the lunch was made of. It was already past ten at night and he hadnât had anything to eat, but he wouldnât touch it.
The clerk behind the desk didnât look so much old as resigned, his expression giving him the appearance of the archaic.
Hey, Salazar said, and put his shield down in front of the clerkâs face.
Hey, the clerk said, taking in the shield, expression unchanging.
Are there Siamese twins staying here?
The freaks? Yeah. Room 12, the clerk said. He took a key down from behind him and handed it to Salazar, in anticipation. That way, he pointed, losing interest. As Salazar turned to leave, the clerk looked up with what seemed like extreme effort. They checked out two weeks ago, though, he added.
Salazar stopped. Then why did you give me the key?
The clerk shrugged. Nobodyâs been in there since, except the maid. I thought you police types like to do your forensics shit.
Salazar shook his head and handed the key back. The room would yield nothing and the CSI team would not come out for this. If there had been anything unusual, like a decomposing body or stuff like that, the clerk would already know. He walked back to his car. An old black man leaned against it, smoking. Salazar ignored him, got in and gunned the engine, and the old man moved off reluctantly. As Salazar drove away he reached for his cell and called Dr. Singh.
Have the twins talked yet, he asked.
Sunil struggled to keep the irritation out of his voice: Nothing you will find useful. How are your investigations going?
We havenât turned up a body yet. But I am at the address you gave me.
Did you find anything interesting?
No, itâs just an old motel.
Did you find anything in the old motel?
No, they checked out of here two weeks ago. Fuck, Salazar said. Do me a favor, Doctor. Get them to explain what the fuck is going on.
All in good time. Good night, Detective.
Good night, Salazar said. Then under his breath, Fuck you very much.
He decided to head back to the station. Maybe he had overlooked something. He just needed to go over everything repeatedly until he found it.
Fourteen
I t was cold when Sunil got home. Desert cold was the worst. Hot all day, with the temperature dropping by so many degrees at night that he went from sweat to shivers. The fact that the central air was on all the time probably didnât help. He crossed the room and flicked a switch to turn on the fire.
This was his routine: set keys into the valet on the sideboard in the hall, briefcase down
Neither twin spoke.
I am going to set up your transfer. The next time I see you will be at the institute, he said.
Tonight, Fire asked.
No, tomorrow morning, Sunil said. Iâll check you in tonight, but I wonât be there until tomorrow.
He stepped out of the cubicle, then went looking for Salazar to make transfer arrangements and to tell him to check out the motel. The curtain fell behind Sunil and the irregularly shaped stain that Fire had noticed before seemed to suddenly fill the green field of it.
I wonder if it is dried blood, Fire said, pointing at it. County, he scoffed.
A dark tree, Water said.
It was well after ten that night before Sunil finally left County Hospital.
Thirteen
B irds on a wire, a drunk leaning up against a Dumpster, a homeless man sprawled on a stained mattress in the corner between the drunk, the Dumpster, and the wall. Salazar slammed the car door and the birds took off. The wire dropped water in benediction. Fucked neighborhood, Salazar said under his breath, crossing the street to the run-down motel. THE PINK FLAMINGO , the sign said. A lone flamingo grew out of the roof of the office building. These kinds of motels had once been so important to the city. Now they were reduced to being long-term residences for those on welfare or otherwise down on their luck. A sign outside the office window offered free lunch with a room. He shuddered to think what the lunch was made of. It was already past ten at night and he hadnât had anything to eat, but he wouldnât touch it.
The clerk behind the desk didnât look so much old as resigned, his expression giving him the appearance of the archaic.
Hey, Salazar said, and put his shield down in front of the clerkâs face.
Hey, the clerk said, taking in the shield, expression unchanging.
Are there Siamese twins staying here?
The freaks? Yeah. Room 12, the clerk said. He took a key down from behind him and handed it to Salazar, in anticipation. That way, he pointed, losing interest. As Salazar turned to leave, the clerk looked up with what seemed like extreme effort. They checked out two weeks ago, though, he added.
Salazar stopped. Then why did you give me the key?
The clerk shrugged. Nobodyâs been in there since, except the maid. I thought you police types like to do your forensics shit.
Salazar shook his head and handed the key back. The room would yield nothing and the CSI team would not come out for this. If there had been anything unusual, like a decomposing body or stuff like that, the clerk would already know. He walked back to his car. An old black man leaned against it, smoking. Salazar ignored him, got in and gunned the engine, and the old man moved off reluctantly. As Salazar drove away he reached for his cell and called Dr. Singh.
Have the twins talked yet, he asked.
Sunil struggled to keep the irritation out of his voice: Nothing you will find useful. How are your investigations going?
We havenât turned up a body yet. But I am at the address you gave me.
Did you find anything interesting?
No, itâs just an old motel.
Did you find anything in the old motel?
No, they checked out of here two weeks ago. Fuck, Salazar said. Do me a favor, Doctor. Get them to explain what the fuck is going on.
All in good time. Good night, Detective.
Good night, Salazar said. Then under his breath, Fuck you very much.
He decided to head back to the station. Maybe he had overlooked something. He just needed to go over everything repeatedly until he found it.
Fourteen
I t was cold when Sunil got home. Desert cold was the worst. Hot all day, with the temperature dropping by so many degrees at night that he went from sweat to shivers. The fact that the central air was on all the time probably didnât help. He crossed the room and flicked a switch to turn on the fire.
This was his routine: set keys into the valet on the sideboard in the hall, briefcase down
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