Quinn - Iris Johansen [105]
Catherine slowly pressed the disconnect.
“We’re heading toward the end. Bonnie told him that was happening.”
Bonnie, again.
Catherine seemed to be the only one who was not being affected by that small seven-year-old child who had died those many years ago.
Joe, whom Catherine respected as a friend and professional, was evidently accepting the same bizarre concept as Eve and Gallo. Bonnie, returned from the dead. Bonnie, the ghost, the beloved spirit.
“Catherine?” Gallo had opened the connecting door, his gaze searching her expression. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She glanced at her watch. “Sorry. I haven’t called Venable yet. But I can do it on the way to the airport.” She threw her suitcase on the bed and started tossing items of clothing into it. “This won’t take me long.”
He leaned against the doorjamb. “I asked if you were all right.”
She nodded jerkily. “That was Eve on the phone. She said she and Joe would see us in New Orleans.”
He went still. “You told her?”
“She said she wasn’t going to call the police.” She looked up from her packing. “She’s going to give us a chance. Though she still has her doubts.”
“I can imagine.”
Because he still had his own doubts and was fighting desperately to put them aside. Catherine had a few doubts herself, dammit, but she wouldn’t give up either faith or determination. If she was the only one driving this show, then so be it.
“Joe is on our side.” She fastened the suitcase. “Sort of. Maybe. I guess we take what we can get. When are our airline reservations?”
“In another three hours. I could have gotten a connection through Atlanta a little earlier, but it would have only been arriving an hour before the nonstop.”
“An hour isn’t going to make a difference.” She picked up her suitcase. “Let’s go.”
* * *
BUT IT TURNED OUT TO BE nine hours. The entire Gulf Coast was fogged in, and their Delta flight had a six-hour delay. They didn’t arrive in New Orleans until close to noon. It was still damp and foggy when the plane landed at Louis Armstrong New Orleans International, and the forecast was for more heavy fog later in the day.
“Where do we go from here?” Catherine asked as she retrieved her bag. “Where’s this casino? A high-rise off Bourbon Street or a riverboat on the river?”
“Neither, it’s outside the city. The Cadalon is across the Mississippi and has a very exclusive clientele of jet-setters and high rollers. We’ll register at the hotel as man and wife. We’ll use the Brookman name I used on the airline ticket.” He checked his watch. “It’s a little early for play, but in a few hours the casino should be humming. We should wait until after midnight to make a play. Though probably Jacobs is at the tables right now. He’s going to be very focused.”
“You should know a lot about casinos. You made a great deal of money from them, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “I taught myself card counting in prison. It’s the most valuable lesson I learned in that rathole.”
“It’s going to be difficult extricating him from a crowded casino. Have you thought about a plan for taking him?”
“A tentative plan.” He smiled as he opened the door for her. “But I’m sure that you have one that’s not at all tentative. You were very quiet on the plane.”
She shrugged. “Simplicity is best. We find out in what room he’s playing. I go in and pretend to greet him. He falls unconscious, and we are very upset. He’s obviously ill, and we have to get him to a hospital. We take him away from the casino. End of scene.”
“Yes, very simple,” Gallo said dryly. “Up to the time that he falls unconscious. That might get a little complicated. One of your friend Hu Chang’s magic potions? Hypodermic?”
She nodded. “It will keep him out for at least twenty minutes. That should give us time to get him away from the casino.”
Gallo opened the passenger door of the rental car for her. “Unless the casino manager wants to handle his transfer