“Isn't this a pisser,” Lula said, going into the room. “Look at what's here. My luggage. Came just in time to lug it back home.”
“Hopefully they won't lose it this time.”
“Damn right they won't lose it. I'm not flying. I'm done flying. I'm driving home.”
“It'll take you days.”
“I don't care. Nothing you could say would make me get back on a plane. I got the rental car and I'm driving. And I can take Boo. I don't like the idea of handing him over to those airport people.”
Boo was on the floor, snooping around.
“He's a cute little guy,” Lula said. “I can see why Nonnie wanted him back.”
I had a problem now. There was a small chance that the flowers were a hoax and something other than death had kept Singh from showing for the job interview. I didn't want to take off only to find out down the road that Singh was alive and well in Vegas. I called Morelli and Ranger. Neither had anything to report. I called my family next.
“We're all fine,” Grandma said. “Except for Albert, who seems to be in labor. That isn't possible, is it?”
When I was a kid my family seemed so stable. I was the flaky kid and my mom was always right, my sister was perfect, my dad was the rock. It hasn't been until recently that I've come to realize nothing is that simple. People are complicated and chock full of problems. That said, my family's problems don't seem so huge. We're a family of plodders. We put one foot in front of the other and keep going forward. And eventually we get someplace. Maybe the place isn't spectacular, but it's a place all the same. And while we're plodding sometimes the problems solve themselves, sometimes the problems get pushed low on the list of priorities and get forgotten, and sometimes the problems cause little pockets of irritation in our bowels.
Mostly we solve our problems with cake.
I was hungry and I would have liked to order room service, but I was afraid Boo would be discovered. Room service is third on my list of favorite things. Birthday cake is first. Sex is second. And then room service. Room service is better than having a mother. You order what you want and they bring it to your door, guilt free, no strings attached. Pretty amazing, huh?
“I'm going out for something to eat,” I said. “And I'm going to check on Susan Lu. I want to make sure she really did go to work.”
“I'm with you,” Lula said.
Connie was on her feet. “Count me in.”
The three Mouseketeers.
We gave Boo a glass of water and told him to be a good dog. We put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, locked up, and left.
According to Connie’s information, Susan Lu worked at Caesars. Caesars was exactly the wrong distance from the Luxor. Too short to feel justified taking a cab. Too long to hoof it in the heat.
We stepped outside and sucked in blast furnace-?quality air and Connie made the decision for us.
“I'm not walking,” she said. “And I'll shoot anyone who tries to make me.”
Caesars is everything a casino should be ... noisy, smokey, gaudy, and bustling with people who can't wait to throw their money away. And if that isn't enough, it has a terrific shopping center. The waitresses servicing the game tables all wore little toga outfits. Some looked better in their togas than others. I suspected Lu would not look wowie kazowie in her toga. We did a casual walk around the room and didn't spot Susan Lu.
“This isn't gonna work,” Lula said. “It's too big. There's too many of the toga women. And there are cock
tail lounges on the sides, too. And restaurants.”
“I don't know how to break this to you,” Connie said, “but I think we're being followed. You see the guy in black over by the statue of Caesar?”
Lula and I turned and looked.
“Don't look!” Connie hissed.
Lula and I stopped looking.
“You have to be sneaky,” Connie said.
Lula and I did a sneaky look.
“I don't recognize him,” I said.