Silver asked Marge where she was staying. “I’ll come to you, give you a call when I arrive. There’s a coffee shop in the lobby. We can talk there.”

He hung up. A moment later, Oliver knocked on the door between their adjoining rooms. Marge got up and opened it.

“We have a meeting in a couple of hours. He hasn’t located Garth Hammerling, but he was glad we came down. Something interesting just came through the wire.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, but I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.” She checked her watch. “We’ve got some time. Weather’s perfect. I think I’ll take a dip in the pool.”

“Have fun.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’ve been sitting for the last five hours. It’s beautiful outside. I think I’ll take a walk around. See what’s happening in town.”

“You know what’s happening in town, Oliver. Gambling, gambling, and more gambling. How much money did you bring to flush down the toilet?”

“Since when did you become so judgmental?”

“I don’t care if people gamble. I just don’t want my friend and partner to lose his shirt.” She held out her hand. “Give me half. You’ll thank me later, after the gambling rush has died down and your pockets are empty.”

Oliver thought about it. Then he peeled off five one-hundred-dollar bills and stuffed them in her palm. “I don’t know why I’m doing this.”

“Maybe because I’m right.”

Oliver grumbled. “I’ll be back in an hour. I’m going to play the tables. The ante is cheaper in the daytime. I’ve got this new system I want to try out. And by the way, I don’t intend to lose.”

“No one ever does, Scott. That’s why the masses keep piling in and the hotels keep getting bigger.”

OUT OF HABIT, Decker turned on his cell phone after he left the memorial service for Adrianna Blanc, and as always, there were messages. He figured he might as well clear them so he could eat lunch and enjoy his family in peace. Dinner last night was noisy and opinionated, with the younger set talking a mile a minute. There were times when he felt as if he were at a tennis match with his head moving back and forth to catch the flow of conversation. But the energy was great. He enjoyed it because he knew it was temporary. By Monday, he’d have his semiquiet house back to himself.

There were two messages on his voice mail.

Number one: Hi, Loo, it’s Wanda. I’m sorry to disturb you on your Sabbath, but something’s come up that you’d want to know about. Give me a call as soon as you can.