L Is for Lawless

services. "I don't have enough to tip you. I'm really sorry about that."
    "That's cool." He handed me his business card. "You have any ideas for a female-type Sam Spade film, we could maybe collaborate. Chicks kickin' shit and stuff like that."
    "I'll give it some thought. I really appreciate your help."
    I got out and closed the door behind me, aware that the limo was already pulling away. There was no sign of the sheriff's deputy, but Dallas County is a big place, and it hadn't been that long since I'd called. I moved toward the revolving doors, half trotting in my haste. The lobby was crowded with the departing track team, kids in shorts, jeans, and matching satin jackets with their school mascot stitched across the back. All of them wore running shoes that made their feet look enormous and reduced their preadolescent legs to sticks. Gym bags and oversize canvas duffels had been lined up in random clusters while the kids themselves milled around, engaged in various forms of horseplay. Some of the girls sat on the floor, using the baggage for backrests. One kid had had his T-shirt peeled off against his will, and he was in the process of wrestling with two teammates to get it back. The laughter had a nervous edge to it. Really, the boys reminded me of puppies playing tug-of-war with an old sock. The supervising adults seemed to take all this energy for granted, probably hoping the kids would be exhausted by the time they got on the bus.
    I moved past them to the elevators and pushed the "up" button. The elevator doors down the line opened and I got on, glancing back across the lobby to see if there was any sign of Gilbert. A silver Trailways bus was just pulling up in front, motor growling while the door opened with the sound of flatulence. I pushed twelve and the elevator doors slid shut.
    Once on Laura's floor, I trotted down the hall and knocked on 1236. I was murmuring to myself, snapping my fingers rapidly. Come on, come on, come on.
    Laura answered the door, slightly taken aback when she saw me. "What are you doing here? I thought you left."
    "Where's Ray? I gotta talk to him."
    "He's asleep. He's right here. What's wrong?"
    "I saw Gilbert at the airport. He's on his way over with a gun. Get Ray, grab your things, and let's get out of here."
    "Oh no." She seemed to pale at the news, one hand going to her mouth.
    "What's going on?" Ray said from behind her. He was already on his feet, tucking his shirt in as he approached. I moved into the room and Laura closed the door behind me. She leaned against the wall, her eyes momentarily closing in dread. I slid the security chain across the track.
    I said, "Go."
    The word seemed to get her mobilized. Laura moved toward the closet, hauling out her raincoat and the duffel.
    "What's happening?" Ray said, looking from one of us to the other.
    "She saw Gilbert. He's got a gun and he's on his way. You should have called instead of coming all the way back," she said reprovingly. She unzipped the duffel and began to sweep cosmetics off the counter into the bag.
    "I did call. The line was busy."
    "I was talking to room service. We had to eat," she said.
    "Ladies, would you quit bickering and let's move!"
    "I am!" She began to snatch up her nightie, slippers, dirty underwear. She'd laid her denim dress across the back of the chair, and she grabbed that, holding it against her chest so she could fold it in thirds and then in half again. Ray took it, rolled it in a ball, and jammed it in the duffel, which he zipped shut.
    I saw his two suitcases stacked up to the left of the door. I grabbed the smaller one and watched while he picked up the other. "Take what's essential and dump the rest," I said. "You have a car?"
    "Out in the lot."
    "Will Gilbert try the elevator or the stairs?"
    "Who knows?"
    I said, "Look. I think you two should go the back way. Gilbert's bound to waste time knocking on the door up here. He may try Ray's room, too, if it occurs to him you're here. Give me the car keys and tell me where you're parked."
    "What are we supposed to do in the meantime?" Laura asked.
    "Wait for me out by that fake stone tower by the drive. I'll get the car and swing around to pick you up. He doesn't know me, so if we pass in the hall, he won't think anything of it."
    Ray gave me a hasty description of the car and its approximate location. The plastic tag on the key listed the license plate number, so I was reasonably certain I could find it without trouble. I handed Ray the bag