then nothing, I’ve too much on now for it to get in the way.’
‘Yeah, because “feeling shit” gives a damn about what you have going on in your life.’
‘Yeah, well I’m not going to get down about it …’
‘Are you looking after yourself? Are you eating well? Sleeping?’
‘Not really … Mom.’
‘I’ll ignore that. Do me a favor, please. Go to the gym. Go to the health-food store. Get some early nights. Try a routine.’
Ren sighed.
‘And stay away from beer,’ said Helen.
Ren’s shoulders slumped. ‘I’ll try.’
‘Must try harder,’ said Helen.
‘Story of my life,’ said Ren.
When Ren got back to the inn, she went straight to her room and into the shower. And in the tenth minute she stood there, wondering if she had put conditioner in her hair, wondering whether, if she had, she’d rinsed it out, wondering if really hot water ruined your skin, she saw the face of Gary Dettling. In one hour she would be sitting oppositehim, discussing the reliability of Billy Waites.
It depends on what you are relying on him for.
Gary Dettling was sitting at the edge of his desk with his back to the door, in front of a bunch of very rough-looking Safe Streets guys. He turned around when Ren walked in. He looked rougher than the rest of them.
‘What happened to you guys?’ said Ren.
‘What happened to you?’ said Gary.
‘Hey, I thought I looked fine,’ said Ren.
‘You do,’ said Gary. ‘You look like you had a great night’s sleep.’
‘No, I didn’t, actually.’ She looked around the room. ‘What?’
‘Didn’t you get my texts? Didn’t you get my calls?’ said Gary. ‘Didn’t you hear your door getting banged on at midnight?’
Ren’s heart started hammering.
‘Oh no – you didn’t,’ said Gary. ‘Because you were not there.’
‘I …’ am a bad liar. ‘I … had to go see Jean’s one-three-seven. There was a snowstorm. You might have seen it on the news this morning. It didn’t clear ’til six a. m.’
‘You were stuck in a shit-ass bar all night. Bummer,’ said Robbie.
Gary’s expression had no empathy.
‘Why were you looking for me?’ said Ren.
‘Well, unfortunately bank robbers have no consideration that we’re – most of us – an hour and a half away from Denver and it’s not too convenient to be roused from our cozy Breckenridge beds to go back and investigate the … worst robbery yet, as a matter of fact.’
‘Most money?’ said Ren.
‘Most violent,’ said Gary.
‘Oh no,’ said Ren.
Gary nodded. ‘It started about eight p.m. last night. The manager of the bank was sitting with his wife watching a movie. One of these goons shows up at the door in his nice blue and yellow shirt with a couple Blockbuster DVDs in his hand, so it looks like they’ve forgotten something or are getting some delivery, whatever. When they open the door, bam – four guys are inside, no masks. They get the couple into the living room and tie them up. Without saying one word. So this couple have no idea what is going on. And get this – the men really do have some DVDs to show them. Hardcore porn. Off the charts. And one of the guys zips open a sports bag. He gets the bank manager’s wife to kneel down and keep her eyes on the television set. Then behind her, so he thinks only the husband can see, he starts taking out every one of the fucked-up toys they’re using on the screen in front of them. And the wife’s watching all this in the reflection. Meanwhile, another one of these animals is literally jacking off in the corner. Then the first guy gets the remote control and pauses the movie.’ He turns to the husband and says:
‘Would you like to see this performed live?’
This woman’s husband doesn’t even say no. Poor bastard just says, “You can do what you like to me. Please do not touch my wife.”’
‘Oh my God,’ said Ren. ‘That is horrific.’
‘Then the guy with the sports bag leaves the jack-off guy with the toys and the wife – so you can imagine what happened next. And they killed the husband anyway.’
‘And the wife?’
‘Lived to tell that tale,’ said Gary.
‘Jesus Christ Almighty,’ said Ren. She sat down at her desk. ‘Is there any hope of her ID-ing these guys?’
‘Their faces reflected in a porn flick … not exactly ideal,’ said Gary.
‘Welcome to Colin Grabien’s mirror,’ said Ren. ‘And what about the bank?’
‘They brought the manager to the bank,’ said Gary. ‘He opened up. At this point they were wearing blank white masks. They got away with a hundred grand.’
Ren nodded.
‘We didn’t catch it on camera,’ said Gary, ‘but someone did lose a mask at the scene. It’s gone to the lab. There were traces of saliva on it.’
‘For what it’s worth,’ said Colin.
‘So we get blank masks,’ said Ren. ‘And saliva. Like, “We’re not giving you a mug shot this time, but we’re giving you DNA”?’ said Ren. ‘Something tells me that DNA is not going to be worth shit.’
Nobody responded.
A chill ran across Ren’s shoulders. She shook it away.
‘So,’ said Gary. ‘Billy Waites …’
‘Billy Waites,’ said Ren. ‘The Brockton Filly is in an excellent location for through-traffic, so a lot of people stop off there. You’ve got I 70 to Breck. Then south on Highway 9 past Quandary, then you’re through to Alma, Fairplay, then Highway 285 back to Denver – basically the back route. You’ve got properties on huge tracts of land there …’ Everyone is looking at me.
Gary was frowning. ‘And Billy Waites himself?’
‘Yes, well, I trust that Jean Transom trusted him, for one,’ said Ren. ‘So that’s what I was saying about the location. He sees a lot. He could be very useful. And, yes, he is a smart guy, as you said, Gary. So he’s a good
