Dying for the Highlife (28 page)

Jimmy remembered him from high school, or maybe shortly afterward. His father was a crackpot who had changed the family name from Reynolds to Reno. Someone had teased Dan Reno about it—once. Jimmy remembered Reno as a tough but reasonable type, someone you’d want on your side, if possible.

But what in Kelsey’s nuts was Reno doing here now, and whose side was he on? What was he doing with Sheila? Why had a man Jimmy casually knew fifteen years ago reappeared at this juncture, shortly after Jimmy won the Lotto? Jesus Christ, what a mind fuck. Jimmy shook his head and wished he was drinking highballs somewhere. His day just kept getting stranger.

• • •

Things didn’t get any less weird at the station. Jimmy expected the cops to quickly realize that he was a victim, and his escape in the parking lot was a heroic act. Jimmy liked the sound of that. It was true—he was a freaking hero. But the Reno PD brought in a couple of detectives who apparently felt the events of the day just didn’t add up. They sat him in an interview room and questioned him relentlessly about his past relationship with Sanzini, and tried to insinuate that he had some illicit dealings with the Latinos who kidnapped and almost killed him. Then they shifted gears to Debbie and her husband. Jimmy told them the pair was running a scam on him, but the detectives had other ideas.

“We think you lured Heather Sanderson to your house to assault her.”

“Heather? She told me her name was Debbie. I met her on an Internet dating site, and she visited me for a date. She was giving me a lap dance when this big motherfucker invaded my house and hit me so hard in the stomach I probably have internal bleeding.”

“And next thing you know, the ‘big motherfucker’ ends up dead. How convenient.” The cop standing over Jimmy had close-set eyes and a receding hair line.

“Yeah, it was real convenient getting my ass kicked, then being forced at gunpoint to withdraw money from my bank.”

“And then, you scamper away, just like that.”

“Like I said, I distracted him, and before he could pull his gun, I darted behind a car and ran away. I thought he’d come after me, but there was a security guard there, and he already had my money.”

“Let’s get back to Heather and her husband. Had you ever met Eric Sanderson before?”

“Her husband? I had no idea the bitch was married.”

The detectives looked at each other, and Jimmy stood. “Just so you know, right now I’m probably the richest person in Reno. I was thinking of settling down here, but if this is how you treat your residents, the hell with this place.”

“The chamber of commerce will be heartbroken,” the balding detective said.

They let Jimmy go after that, but it took another hour for him to recover the leather bag stuffed with cash. At first the cops wanted to hold it as evidence, but they finally relented after the portly senior detective said there was no need. Before leaving the police station, Jimmy called his father and asked to be picked up. John began asking questions, but Jimmy told him to just calm down and come get him pronto. Holding the black satchel, Jimmy stood in the precinct lobby and waited for the LTD to arrive. At least the cops gave him his money. Other than that, he thought they were the biggest group of dipshits he’d ever met.

• • •

Sitting at a table in the Peppermill Casino lounge, John organized the brochures he’d picked up from the local auto dealerships. He had narrowed his choices to a Cadillac, a BMW, or a Lexus. They were all big, comfortable cars. Though he felt the BMW and Lexus had some advantages, the Cadillac really captivated him. When John was a young man, owning a Caddy was a huge status symbol, back before the Japanese and German cars became commonplace. He sipped his cup of coffee and wondered what color would be best.

After a while he went to his room and tossed the glossy pamphlets on his bed, then headed to the hotel gym. Pedaling the stationary bike, he worked up a light sweat and let his mind wander. Meeting Jimmy was turning out to be exactly what he had hoped for. But now that he felt cautiously optimistic about the financial end of things, he knew he had to take care of his health as well. Being a fat slob didn’t jive with his image of himself for the future. A slim, toned physique would be more like it. That, and a nice car, a comfortable condo, and then who knows? Anything was possible. Maybe he could even attract a desirable woman and have a sex life again. He pedaled faster, watching the drops of sweat fall off his nose.

Despite all the good things happening, John still didn’t feel comfortable with Lou Calgaretti’s conclusions on Sheila. The woman had gone as far as hiring two thugs to try to convince Jimmy to pay her off. She had obviously invested quite a bit of time and money in her scheme. Would she just give up? John didn’t think so. The virulent words that spilled from her during their divorce were not something easily forgotten. If she still harbored that kind of hatred, who knows what she might do?

Later that night, over a low-carb dinner at the casino restaurant, John decided to talk to Jimmy about safe investments for his fortune—not as a money-making venture, but as a way to protect the money from conniving bitches like Sheila. No doubt there would also be others out there who would view Jimmy as a target. He worried that Jimmy’s millions might evaporate quickly, either stolen by con artists or wasted by his own imprudent spending. Maybe he could help Jimmy put the majority of the money in certificates of deposit, or some kind of account where accessing it wouldn’t be so easy. In the morning he would visit a bank and get educated on the options, John decided. Right after he bought his new car.

Confident all was in order in his world, John sat down to slay a few hours at a twenty-one table with a cute female dealer. He still had two crisp hundred-dollar bills in his wallet, left over from the $500 Jimmy gave him earlier in the day. He ordered a rum and diet cola, and was on a nice winning streak when his cell rang, and Jimmy asked to be picked up at the Reno police station.

T
he LTD rattled to a stop, and John watched Jimmy come out the glass doors, his hair uncombed, his clothes streaked with dirt.

“What in hell?” John said.

“Listen, Pop, I need a drink bad, okay?”

“You want to go to a bar?”

“No. Just take me home.”

“I take it your date didn’t go well?”

“That’s an understatement.”

John stopped at a traffic light and turned toward his son. “Were you arrested?”

“What?” Jimmy laughed briefly. “It was nothing like that. What happened to me today…” Jimmy paused and tried to find the right words. “A pack of greedy bastards tried to steal my money,” he said finally.

When they got to the big house, it was dark and the front door was locked. John let them in, and Jimmy flipped on the light switch in the entryway. “See that?” he said, pointing to a darkened area where the tile met the carpet. “That’s the blood of a man I saw murdered a few hours ago.”

Jimmy found a beer glass and mixed himself a stiff vodka. He walked through the house with his dad, turning on every light. He looked in the closet where the cops told him Eric Sanderson’s body had been stuffed. Apparently, cleaning up the blood was not part of the “serve and protect” deal.

After a few minutes they sat in the living room, and Jimmy gave a detailed recounting of the day. At first John was incredulous. It sounded like two separate schemes had collided at the house. First, Internet date Debbie and her now-dead husband, and then Sanzini and his Mexican drug dealing pals. When John got over his shock, he carefully considered all the details. There was one main issue he kept coming back to: the presence of the big dude and Dan Reno was a clear sign Sheila was still working some kind of scam.

“Son, the most important thing is you weren’t seriously hurt.”

“Yeah, I guess. Although I was freaking humiliated.”

“It could have been a lot worse. I think you need to start thinking what you can do to protect yourself from this kind of thing in the future.”

“I’m down with that. But how?”

“Let’s start by talking to Lou Calgaretti,” John said. He poked at his cell phone, and Lou picked up right away.

“Lou, John Homestead. Listen, the shit’s really hit the fan over here.”

John put his phone on speaker, and Jimmy talked for ten minutes before Lou began asking questions.

“Have you pressed charges against Heather Sanderson?”

“No. I figured she’d been through enough already,” Jimmy said. In the back of his mind, he thought he might call her and arrange a few sex sessions in return for him not pursuing legal action.

“Apparently the police don’t plan on charging her either. Do you think she could be a threat to you moving forward?”

“I doubt it. Not with her husband out of the picture.”

“What about Sanzini?” Lou said. “He’s still being held, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what I heard. I’m not sure what they’re going to charge him with.”

“A number of things, I’m sure. Accessory to kidnapping and robbery, for a start.”

“Sounds like he’s in deep shit.”

“I’d say that’s an accurate assessment.”

“What about Dan Reno?” John said. “I think my ex-wife is still trying to find a way to get her hands on Jimmy’s money. And she hired Reno.”

“I know of Reno, but I don’t know him personally,” Lou said. “He’s a private eye here in South Lake Tahoe.”

“Can you find him and get him to tell you what Sheila’s up to?”

Lou grunted. “Finding him should be easy. But I doubt he’ll tell me anything useful.”

“I see your point,” John said. “Jimmy and I have discussed hiring professional body guards, at least until we feel comfortable he’s no longer in danger. Can you recommend anyone?”

“I’ll make a few calls and get back to you. Give me until tomorrow.”

Afterward, they settled in to watch a movie, a comedy about horny frat house boys getting drunk and chasing college girls. Jimmy had finished the better part of a fifth of vodka and was sitting on the couch smoking a joint, his head lolled back on the cushion, his legs splayed, his body nearly horizontal. When John looked at him, he felt a surge of annoyance, followed by a creeping twinge of disappointment, not only in Jimmy, but also in his own parental ineptitude. Then he thought back to when Jimmy was a small boy, sitting on his lap. John looked away, stunned as a rush of paternal affection replaced the distress he’d felt only a moment before. His eyes moistened and he blinked rapidly. How strange that a parent could never let go of those early images and feelings. Even after not speaking to Jimmy for fifteen years, John Homestead still loved his son as if he were a child.

• • •

In the morning, John made coffee, then spent a half hour in the exercise room. He showered and dressed and at 9:30 went to check on Jimmy.

“You want coffee, son?”

Jimmy groused out of bed, gobbled some aspirin, and staggered out to the kitchen. “Next time let me sleep in, would you?” he said, but he cut his complaining short when his cell rang. He talked for a moment, then snapped the phone shut. “Hey, my car’s ready,” he said, his face brightening.

“I was going to head out to the Caddy dealership,” John said. “I can drop you off.”

“Let me wake up first,” Jimmy said, pouring a second cup and scratching his balls.

John sat on one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “You said you used to know Dan Reno. And obviously he knows who you are. So why don’t you call him and ask him what’s up with Sheila? He might be more likely to talk to you than Lou.”

Jimmy rubbed his eyes. “That’s not a bad idea, I guess. Just give me until the caffeine kicks in. Then I’ll call him.”

T
he skies were still dark when I woke. I rekindled my stove and drove Cody’s truck to a convenience store and bought yogurt, fruit, and some pastries, hoping it would be to Heather’s liking. If not, she could join me for toast, eggs, and bacon. But she was still asleep when I got home. I’d read the entire
Tahoe Daily Tribune
and finished my sixteen-ounce coffee by the time she finally came out of the guest room.

He eye and lip had swelled overnight, and she had traded her sweat shirt for a pink, short-sleeve top. She was braless, her breasts high and firm, and she didn’t seem aware her nipples were neatly outlined against the material.

“Good morning,” she said. I brought her coffee and told her the options for breakfast.

“You’re a very nice man, do you know that?” Her smile looked crooked under her swollen lip.

“Thanks,” I said, a little uncomfortable with the compliment.

“Well, thank you for letting me stay. The bed was very nice.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes. Well, no, actually. My head was full of thoughts, trying to figure out what I’m going to do.”

“Did you reach any conclusions?”

“A couple, I think. First, I need to get a real career. I don’t want to have to rely on a man to take care of me.”

“You might find working fun.”

“I always did before. But I don’t want to do anything that has to do with my looks. I’ve got a good brain. It’s time I made use of it.”

“That’s the spirit,” I said, smiling at her enthusiasm.

She giggled. “When are you going to feed me?”

After we ate she went to dress, and I stood looking out the large window behind my desk. The sun had crept over the ridgeline to the east and rested in a narrow strip of blue sky under a layer of storm clouds. A pair of squirrels scurried from below my deck and sniffed at the air and poked around my yard before heading out to the meadow, leaving tiny tracks in the light dusting of snow from the night before.

My cell rang. I didn’t recognize the number.

“Is this Dan Reno?”

“Yes, who’s calling?”

“Hey, Dan, it’s Jimmy Homestead.”

“What’s happening, Jimmy?” I said after a second.

“Too much, man. That was some pretty crazy shit that went down yesterday, huh?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

“Well, I’m lucky to be alive.”

“You ain’t the only one.”

“I heard you killed two of those guys. Is that true?”