Jean smiled at the surprised look on the bartender's face as she walked past toward the private booth in the back, interpreting it as the usual male interest. The dark glasses covered most of her now yellowish bruises and as she slid into the booth she opened her purse, removed the glasses and checked her face in her compact then slipped them back on. A lot depended on this meeting today.
"Nice to have you back. Martini, wasn't it?"
She nodded and asked for a menu as well and said she was expecting a friend. He deflated slightly and left. The money she'd withdrawn was wrapped in a bulky package in her purse and she patted the bag just to make sure it was still there. It would be needed as a sign of good faith. If Leana brought hers as well Jean felt she could complete her plan and be out of the country by evening.
The bartender turned his back to the room and dialed the number on the card. As he waited for it to answer, he saw the second woman enter the bar and go directly to the back.
"Yeah?"
"Detective Asper?"
"Who's this?"
"The bartender at Grady's. Your two women are back in the same booth."
Jerry sat up and tossed a pencil across the desk at Bettmeir, pointing to the phone. "How long have they been there?"
"Just arrived... separately."
"Use your imagined charm and keep them there. We'll be about ninety minutes." He hung up, told Bettmeir the information and they both raced out of the station.
Leana sat and greeted her new partner cautiously, keeping her hand tightly on the strap of her carry-on bag.
"Am I late? The cab was a clunker."
"Nope, just arrived myself. Is that your money?" Jean asked. "Mine's in here." She lifted her purse and put it back down.
"Every dime I could get in cash." Leana stopped as the bartender brought Jean's martini and took her order. "I think it rang a few bells so whatever we're doing it'd better be soon."
"Let's eat first, I'm starved. I booked a room at a motel a few blocks away. I stayed there last night. We can make our plans in privacy, clothes and stuff." She raised her shoulders in a girlish scrunch.
"That was clever..." Leana felt her guard going up. After all, this was the same woman that was trying to blackmail her earlier.
"I used another name so we don't have to worry about that."
The bartender brought Leana's drink and asked for their order. Salads, sandwiches and more drinks and then a hasty signal for the cheque.
"No desert, ladies?"
"Just the cheque please."
"We have a killer, apricot pie."
"The cheque... please."
"Right." No skin of his nose if the cops were late. He wrote up the bill, took the offered cash and admired their departure with a lustful stare.
Jerry scooped up a handful of peanuts and stomped away to the window. Bettmeir questioned the bartender intensely. Time. Direction. Transportation; he got it all and then dragged his grumbling partner out to their car.
"He says they left together about half an hour ago, this time in a rented Camero—dark green—and headed south."
"No license number?"
"Hey, he got the rental sticker at least. Keep your eyes peeled." Bettmeir drove south quickly, considering what lay in that direction and then slowed gradually.
"What?"
"There's nothin' down this way, Jer. Closed plants, burned out buildings... I don't think they came this way."
"The border."
"Please don't even think that."
"So now what?"
"We'll swing over a block and retrace."
Twenty minutes later, after traversing several blocks in all directions, Jerry let out a whoop and pointed to the dark green Camero nosed into the corner of the motel parking lot.
"Think it's gonna be a lover's meet?"
"You wish. I don't know what the hell it'll be." He parked the car and they got out and went into the office.
************
Leana looked the room over and took the easy chair near the door. Jean crossed to the dresser, dropped her purse and immediately opened the mini bar and took out a tiny bottle of gin.
"Want something?"
Leana shook her head. "I want to hear your ideas."
Jean tossed back the gin neat and shivered. "I needed that. This is not going to be easy."
"What?"
"This." She pulled a gun from her purse and aimed it at Leana.
"What the hell!" Leana started to stand but the gun came up and she sank back into the chair. "What is this? What are you doing?"
"I put too much time and effort into this to run away empty handed. Toss me that bag."
"You bitch! You double crossing little bitch."
"Sticks and stones, Cropmaster." Jean tore open the bag and plunged her hand into the bundles of bills. "I didn't really think you'd get it."
"We had a deal."
"Still do. I take this and you stay quiet."
"Unlikely, bitch."
"You sound just like Roger did when I saw him with one of the members. Bitch, he called me when I confronted him."
Leana's eyes widened. The statement surprised her so much she forgot her current position. "Chester."
Jean's face twisted into a nasty smirk. "So everybody knew but me."
"I doubt that. I only knew because of- because I was in charge."
Jean laughed. "Who cares now, what mattered was it was a man! That bastard led me on with promises and all the time he was screwing men." She did up the bag and threw it by the dresser. "Get on the bed."
"What?"
"You heard, get on the bed."
"Listen, we need to talk this out—"
"Exactly what Roger said before I shot him."
The confession hung between them like a palpable screen and Leana began to really fear for the worst. Jean waved the gun toward the bed, and on shaky feet, she complied.
"Lie down, head on the pillow."
"What are you going to do?"
"One guess." The comment brought Leana upright and in one swift move she grabbed Jean's arm and the two of them flipped over onto the dirty shag rug. Leana, the larger of the two, wrestled herself into the dominant position, twisting Jean's arm, trying to shake the gun free. Jean arched her back and lunged sideways toppling Leana onto the edge of the bed then twisted around until the gun was between them.
They stared fire into each other's eyes, as the tension in their arms became a burning pain. Jean freed one hand and grabbed a handful of Leana's hair, forcing her head back on the bed then she dug a knee into her stomach and levered herself on top. The gun rose between them and Leana felt her fingers slipping from their grip until her hand slid free and the barrel banged painfully against her lips.
"It could have been less painful." Jean pulled the trigger and blinked, uttering a cry as blood sprayed from the once beautiful face all over her own face and chest.
She sat back on the floor with a bump, gasping and wiping at her eyes. Leana's body slid slowly down the side of the bed to end in an awkward angle between it and the wall. The silencer on the gun was dripping with blood and she was getting it on everything. She dropped the gun and hoisted herself up by the doorframe and stumbled into the bathroom.
Blood speckled her face like freckles and she felt the bile rise in her throat. She soaked the towel in hot water and scrubbed away the spatter then shed her blouse and took a fresh top from the drawer of the dresser; a change of wardrobe was just in case and as it turned out, a good idea. Now she packed all the remaining things in Leana's large carry-on, wiped down the things she touched, including the gun, took one last look at the body and the dark stain pooling around the head and left the room.
The car pulled onto the lot by the office and Jean recognized the two detectives from the TV newscast when Elora Gates had been killed. At first she thought she'd just continue on but the fact that they were there—at that motel—made her pause. They climbed out of the car and went into the motel office. She walked around the corner at the end of the building and stood in the shade out of sight.
The car was useless now; they must have identified it somehow. She looked around and saw that a side road ran on an angle away from the rear of the motel and that light traffic was passing regularly in the direction of the freeway. She peered around the corner to check the detectives then crossed quickly to the other side of the road and stuck out her thumb.