Lucky(64)

“I understand that.”

They waited for Reyes in silence. She returned half an hour later.

“She traced her credit card easily,” Reyes said when she got back in the car. “And it’s a bit odd. Apparently she’s staying at a DoubleTree not far from the camp—back in Oneonta, only about twenty minutes away from there. So, looks like we have to drive back now if we’re going to find her, and figure out what she’s doing holed up with that ticket. Okay with you two?”

“We have to do it,” Lucky said, but she found herself thinking of the nun, and the possibility the nun knew something about her mother. There was nothing she could do about that right now, though. She could come back once she got the ticket back. If she got the ticket back.

John reached forward and turned off the radio.

“What’s our plan?” he said. “We need one, for when we get to the hotel.” He sounded like his old self again. Lucky was starting to get emotional whiplash, wondering who he’d be next: a doddering old man, or his calculating, smart old self?

“What if you accused her of stealing it from you, John?” Reyes said. “What if you called the police and said your ex stole your lottery ticket, and then you formally contested the win?”

“But John couldn’t have been in Idaho buying a lottery ticket on the date I bought mine,” Lucky said. “Because he was in prison.”

“We could say it was yours, Reyes,” suggested John. “And that Gloria stole it when we arrived at her camp.”

“Still no good,” Lucky said. “Reyes reports it stolen, there’s an investigation, they look at the security camera footage at the store I bought it at and they wouldn’t see Reyes, they’d see me.”

“So, there’s possibly a way to prove you bought it?” Reyes said.

“I don’t know,” Lucky said. “I honestly have no idea how this all works.”

“Come on,” John said. “Keep thinking. We need a plan.”

“Blackmail,” Lucky finally said. “If we can find her, I’ll tell her I’m going to call the police and tell them about the fake construction jobs. I can make her believe that I recorded her. I’ll make her think I’ll tell the police unless she gives me the ticket.”



* * *




Reyes pulled the SUV into the parking lot of the generic-looking hotel. They had found a boarding kennel for Betty. They would pick her up when this was all over, but for now, they needed to keep her out of the way, and definitely safe.

The trio walked inside and stood in the lobby, looking around at the beige walls, beige tiles, burgundy and gray couches and chairs. “I’m going to get her room number,” Lucky said. “Reyes, give me your cell phone.” She turned the phone off. “Go stand by the elevator, you two. Once I get the number, I’ll meet you there.”

“Hi,” Lucky said, approaching the concierge with an apologetic smile on her face. “I’m so sorry, but can you help me with something? I’m meeting someone here—Gloria Devereaux? And she texted me her room number, told me to come on up when I got here, except my phone died”—she held the phone out in front of her, and pushed the home screen; the screen stayed blank—“so I have no idea what room she’s in. Would you mind looking it up for me?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t give out that information. But I could call up to her room for you and let her know you’re here, Miss…?”

“Shoot. Okay, sure, give her a call.” The concierge lifted the receiver to dial—and Lucky caught the numbers he pressed with a quick glance: 513.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “You know what? She’s probably at the casino. You can hang up, it’s okay.” He did, but Lucky heard a woman’s voice saying hello just before he landed the handset back on the receiver.

She walked toward the elevator, where Reyes and John waited.

There was a couple on the elevator with them. They didn’t speak until they got to the fifth floor.

“Okay,” John said. “Let’s go over the plan one last time.”

“Maybe Reyes should knock. She could say something like, ‘Time for your complimentary turndown,’ and then—”

“Gloria will like that. Tell her you have chocolates.”

They walked down the hall while Reyes knocked. “Who is it?” came Gloria’s voice.

“Housekeeping,” Reyes said. “Chocolate turndown service.”

“What the hell is that?” Gloria growled.

“You get a special turndown service… with chocolate.”

“Just leave the chocolate outside the door.”

“There are a few different kinds to choose from. Chocolate mints, chocolate strawberries, chocolate-covered orange peels—”

“Go away.”

Silence.

“Shit,” said Reyes, under her breath.

Lucky stepped forward and knocked on the door now. “Gloria? You know who this is. You have something of mine. But I have something of yours—a recording of you admitting to all those fake repairs and bilking senior citizens. I have witnesses back at the camp who are pretty upset. And I have the police on speed dial.”

Still nothing.