The Welcoming

crazy.”
    “Did you know your references were still on file here?” Roman asked conversationally. “The problem is, they don’t check out. You never worked for a hotel back in Fort Worth, or in San Francisco.”
    “So I padded my chances a bit. That doesn’t prove anything.”
    “I think we’ll turn up something more interesting when we run your prints.”
    Bob stared down at the disk. Sometimes you could bluff, and sometimes you had to fold. “Can I have a drink?”
    Roman picked up the flask, tossed it to him and waited while he twisted off the cap. “You made me for a cop, didn’t you? Or you were worried enough to keep your ear to the ground. You heard me asking the wrong questions, were afraid I’d told Charity about the operation and passed it along to your friends.”
    “It didn’t feel right.” Bob wiped the vodka from his lips, then drank again. “I know a scam when I see one, and you made me nervous the minute I saw you.”
    “Why?”
    “When you’re in my business you get so you can spot cops. In the supermarket, on the street, buying underwear at a department store. It doesn’t matter where, you get so you can make them.”
    Roman thought of himself and of the years he’d spent on the other side of the street. He’d made his share of cops, and he still could. “Okay. So what did you do?”
    “I told Block I thought you were a plant, but he figured I was going loopy. I wanted to back off until you’d gone, but he wouldn’t listen. Last night, when you went down for dinner, I looked through your room. I found a box of shells. No gun, just the shells. That meant you were wearing it. I called Block and told him I was sure you were a cop. You’d been spending a lot of time with Charity, so I figured she was working with you on it.”
    “So you tried to kill her.”
    “No, not me.” Panicked, Bob pressed back in his chair. “I swear. I’m not a violent man, DeWinter. Hell, I like Charity. I wanted to pull out, take a breather. We’d already set up another place, in the Olympic Mountains. I figured we could take a few weeks, run legit, then move on it. Block just said he’d take care of it, and I thought he meant we’d handle next week’s tour on the level. That would give me time to fix everything here and get out. If I’d known what he was planning . . .”
    “What? Would you have warned her?”
    “I don’t know.” Bob drained the flask, but the liquor did little to calm his nerves. “Look, I do scams, I do cons. I don’t kill people.”
    “Who was driving the car?”
    “I don’t know. I swear it,” he said. Roman took a step toward him, and he gripped the arms of his chair. “Listen, I got in touch with Block the minute this happened. He said he’d hired somebody. He couldn’t have done it himself, because he was on the mainland. He said the guy wasn’t trying to kill her. Block just wanted her out of the way for a few days. We’ve got a big shipment coming in and—” He broke off, knowing he was digging himself in deeper.
    Roman merely nodded. “You’re going to find out who was driving the car.”
    “Okay, sure.” He made the promise without knowing if he could keep it. “I’ll find out.”
    “You and I are going to work together for the next few days, Bob.”
    “But . . . aren’t you going to call Royce?”
    “Let me worry about Royce. You’re going to go on doing what you do best. Lying. Only now you’re going to lie to Block. You do exactly what you’re told and you’ll stay alive. If you do a good job I’ll put in a word for you with my superior. Maybe you can make a deal, turn state’s evidence.”
    After resting a hip on the desk, Roman leaned closer. “If you try to check out, I’ll hunt you down. I’ll find you wherever you hide, and when I’m finished you’ll wish I’d killed you.”
    Bob looked into Roman’s eyes. He believed him. “What do you want me to do?”
    “Tell me about the next shipment.”
    ***
    Charity was sick of it. It was bad enough that she’d given her word to Roman and had to stay in bed all day. She couldn’t even use the phone to call the office and see what was going on in the world.
    She’d tried to be good-humored about it, poking through the books and magazines that Lori had brought up to her. She’d even admitted—to herself—that there had been times, when things had gotten crazy at the inn, that she’d imagined having the luxury of an idle day in bed.
    Now she had it, and she