6

Grofield opened the closet door and the wrestler smiled up at him with his slit throat. "Here he is," Grofield called, and Dan came in from the other room saying, "Which one? Let me get my hands on him."

Grofield stepped back, and Dan looked at the thing on the floor of the closet. "Jesus," he said.

"Your friend Myers," Grofield said, "is around the bend."

"He cut his throat for six grand," Dan said. He sounded awed.

"He was going to kill everybody in New York State for one-sixth of a hundred grand," Grofield said.

"I can't believe he's so penny ante," Dan said. He looked at Grofield and shook his head. "That's what gets me. He was supposed to be such hot shit down there in Texas."

Grofield said, "He's left us a mess. You remember everything you touched?"

"Good Christ on a crutch!" Dan looked around. "This room, the next room. I had a drink in there, when he was showing us all those pictures. We've all got prints scattered around in there."

"Do a fast wipe," Grofield said. "That's all we have time for."

"Maybe what we want is a fire."

"No. It would just call attention to this room earlier than necessary, and it wouldn't destroy things like doorknobs."

Dan was still agitated. He looked at the thing in the closet again and said, "Maybe we oughta move him. Carry him out like he's drunk, dump him somewheres."

"Forget it, Dan," Grofield said. He went over to the bed and pulled a pillowcase off its pillow. "He's all over blood," he said. "Here, catch." He tossed the crumpled pillowcase, and turned away to reach for the other pillow before waiting to see if Dan had caught it or not. "We'll wipe the place down," he said, shaking the pillow out. "That's all we have time for."

"All right," Dan said. He sounded doubtful, but willing to be led.

They spent the next five minutes wiping hard surfaces in the two rooms. Myers had cleared out with his goods, including the suitcase full of maps and photos and graphs. Grofield, wiping glasses, said, "You think he still means to pull that factory job?"

"He doesn't have time," Dan said. He sounded grim.

The last thing they wiped was the inside doorknob. Out in the hall, Grofield wiped the outside doorknob with his jacket sleeve, and the two of them walked down to the elevators.

"I hate it that I have to go after that bastard," Dan said. "I got other things to do with my life."

"Then let it ride," Grofield said. "If you ever meet up with him again, you'll take care of things. If not, it didn't cost you anything."

"Over twelve grand."

"I don't count gambling winnings as money," Grofield said, and shrugged. They'd reached the elevators; he pushed the down button.

"I count money as money," Dan said.

"I guess I don't blame you," Grofield admitted.

The elevator came. It had three passengers already, so they didn't talk any more until they reached the main floor.

Walking around toward the lobby, Dan said, "You remember the names of any of those other guys?"

"Up with Myers? Bob Frith, George Cathcart, Matt Hanto."

"Wait a second." Dan brought out a ballpoint pen and a crumpled envelope. Grofield repeated the names, and Dan wrote them down. He put the pen and envelope away and said, "You know any of them from anywhere?"

"No. Don't you?"

"They looked all right," Dan said. "They looked like pros. Somebody'll know them, in the business."

"They weren't in on it," Grofield said. "That was strictly Myers and his fat friend, I'm sure of it."

"I know, I know. But one of the others might know where I can get in touch with him."

"Ask your wife's brother."

"I will, don't you worry. I'll ask him a lot of things."

They were going-through the casino. Grofield nodded at the crap tables: "You want to get it back again?"

But Dan shook his head. "My luck is gone for tonight," he said. "I can feel it."

They went on outside. Cabdrivers looked alert at their exit. Dan said, "You want to come with me?"

"To find Myers?"

"Sure."

"For what?"

Dan shrugged. "Half."

"Six grand?" Grofield considered it, then shook his head. "Too much like work," he said. "You don't know how long it'll take, you don't know if you'll ever find him at all."

"Still, I got to try."

"Good luck," Grofield said.

"Thanks."

"And if you hear of anything in my line, let me know."

"I will."

They took separate cabs again, and when he got to his room Grofield found his luggage gone. Naturally; it had been possible to close the door, but not lock it.

"Lemons don't lie," Grofield said bitterly, and went away to the motel office to report the theft. Not that he expected the cops to find the stolen luggage; a resort town like this was always full of crooks. But at least he'd get the tax deduction.