Dead Even - Mariah Stewart [96]
Not a chance, Vince reassured himself. He’d had Burt pegged as a greedy son of a bitch from day one. No way he’d have walked off with half if he thought he’d end up with twice as much.
Of course, there was no other half, Burt had gotten it all on the first round, but he wouldn’t find that out until he came back to tell Vince that all the deeds were done. And what was he going to do, once he found out that Vince had duped him, go to the police? Call the FBI?
Vince stood up on the end of his bed and tried to look out the narrow window. He had a view of the parking lot, though not a very good one, since the parking lot was so far away. In the distance he could see two figures walking. It could be Cahill and Fletcher, though they were too far away for him to be sure.
His chin resting on the windowsill, he watched until the figures faded completely, then jumped down off the bed.
That Cahill was real fine. It was a shame Channing had put her name on his list.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
The first thing Burt did when he returned to the motel was to flop onto the bed, the TV remote in hand. He was more than a bit spooked when, while channel surfing, he found Archer Lowell’s mug front and center on the screen.
That sure got his attention.
He turned up the volume in time to hear the earnest and excited young reporter describe how Archer Lowell was wanted for questioning in the death of Joshua Landry as well as for the murder of an Ohio man.
Burt sat up and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Damned good thing I dumped him when I did.
“According to the FBI,” the reporter continued, “the suspect should be considered armed and dangerous—”
“Not anymore.” Burt chuckled.
A sobering thought then occurred to him. Should he worry that the desk clerk or the cleaning people might recognize Archer as one of the inhabitants of Room 109? He tried to remember if Archer had actually been in the office. Burt didn’t think he had. Didn’t think he’d been out of the room much at all, except for the trips down to Landry’s farm in Plainsville, and those trips had been made pretty early in the morning. Burt had brought in takeout for their meals, so it wasn’t likely that any well-meaning waitress was going to call the cops and say she’d seen Archer Lowell and he’d been with a tall guy with dark hair who drove a black pickup with tinted windows.
Now that he thought about it, they hadn’t really run into too many people at all since they’d been staying here. Burt mentally reviewed all the places they’d gone and things they’d done over the past week and decided that he was probably okay. But all the same, it was time for him to be moving on.
Besides, they’d be finding Lowell’s body pretty soon, wouldn’t they? He wondered if anyone had seen his truck there in the park, but thought he was probably okay there, too. He’d pulled all the way to the back of the lot, and hadn’t stayed for more than a few minutes. He didn’t even recall passing many cars on the road.
He searched the room to make sure there was nothing of his or Archer’s remaining, then wiped down all the surfaces with bath towels to remove any fingerprints Archer may have left behind. It probably wasn’t necessary, but still, why take chances? Besides, it gave him time to think about what he was going to do next.
By the time he returned the towels to the bathroom, he’d figured out his next moves. He wanted the rest of the money. He’d promised Vince three dead bodies; he got three dead bodies. Of course, one of those bodies was Archer’s instead of that hot FBI agent, but how the hell was he supposed to find her now? He’d been given half the money for making sure Archer killed Unger and Landry. Well, he’d done that, hadn’t he?
But would Vince think that killing Archer was a fair trade for doing Cahill?
Burt gathered up the remains of the pizza and tossed it into the box. He stood in the doorway and looked around. The room was clean. There was no trace of him—or, more important, of Archer Lowell—left behind. Satisfied, Burt turned off the light