Bert was busy behind the bar as I entered, so I stopped to pet Russell, who was on his bar stool, licking his chops after a pepperoni donation. A few scraps remained, but I predicted he’d make short work of those, and I was right.
“Hey, Mojo,” Bert said. “Trying to score a free coffee?”
“I wouldn’t mind one for the road,” I answered, and zeroed in on the coffeemaker.
“You goin’ somewhere?” Bert asked.
I lowered my voice, although the jukebox and the steady click of pool balls were so loud, the risk of being overheard was minimal. “Cactus Bend,” I said. “Then a day or two in Tucson, with my sister. I ought to be back by Monday afternoon. Would you mind trying my apartment door a couple of times, just to make sure it hasn’t been kicked in or jimmied open?”
“Sure,” he said, and the old baby blues twinkled. “Sheila’s after me to shut down the bar for a few days next week, so we can go camping up at Oak Creek Canyon. You mind dog-sitting while we’re gone? Russell isn’t much for sleeping under the stars.”
I grinned, touched Bert’s shoulder as I passed with a large coffee to go. “I’ll bet he doesn’t mind camp food, though.” In my opinion, Sheila was right—Bert needed some time off. In the two years I’d lived over the saloon, he’d never turned away a day’s business. In fact, last Christmas morning, he and Sheila had thrown a party for their customers, right there on the premises. I stopped to ruffle Russell’s ears. “I’d be happy to look after the fur-face.”
Bert’s smile broadened with gratitude. “He farts,” he said, in farewell.
“Great,” I said, in mock horror. “I’ll lay in some air freshener. See you Monday.”
Bert nodded, and I ducked out.
I gave the parking lot a quick sweep of the eyeballs, but I was basically over yesterday’s fright. Anyway, if Geoff appeared, all I’d have to do was yell for help and half the bikers in Maricopa County would spill out of the saloon and be all over him like liberals on a budget cut. As for Heather—well, I could handle her myself.
Maybe I’d gotten through to Brian at the casino the day before, I thought. And maybe he’d gotten through to Heather. Between the two of them, they might have one good brain, and use it to figure out what they were doing to their kids.
I was almost to Sunset Villa when I remembered Tucker’s note on the refrigerator door that morning. He planned to stop by my place to chat about why I had a litter box and no cat, among other things.
I knew I wasn’t obligated to keep him updated on my changing schedule, especially since we weren’t an item and I hadn’t agreed to the rendezvous in the first place. Still, Tucker had been a good friend to me the night before, sleeping on my couch so I wouldn’t have to spend the night alone, jumping at every little sound.
Once I got off the freeway and onto a regular street, I pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store, dug out my cell phone, speed-dialed him and waited.
“Darroch,” he said. Very clipped.
“It’s Mojo,” I told him.
“Busy,” he replied.
Yeesh. I’d caught him in the middle of some sting, or even an actual drug bust. “I’m on my way out of town,” I ventured.
“Check,” he said.
So much for that.
I pushed the end button, tossed the phone in the general direction of my purse, which was plunked on the passenger seat and pulled back onto the road. Next stop, Sunset Villa.
I met Felicia in the hallway outside Lillian’s door. She was wearing hot-pink scrubs and a glare.
“No more of them cards,” Felicia ordered. “Mrs. Travers ain’t havin’ a very good day.”
I could have been pissed off, but I knew Felicia’s main concern was her patient’s welfare, so I didn’t go for her jugular. Anyway, I was too worried to bother with drama. I held up both hands to show I wasn’t trying to smuggle in a Tarot deck, Ouija board, or Magic 8-Ball. “What’s the matter with Lillian?”
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