Page 29 of The Last Grift
Lying low was not getting tickets and being reported to whatever random law enforcement agency was around Heartstone. No way was he opening a can of worms by asking Lundin what his problem was.
“Does that offer of a shower still stand?” he asked, pushing thoughts of Lundin aside—again.
Elton eyed him, his gray eyes glittering with amusement. “If you think you’re sitting at my table without cleaning up, you have another thing coming, son. While you shower, I’ll give Gordon another ring and see what happened today.” He frowned. “The bathroom’s down the hall.” Elton pointed acrooked finger. “First door on the right. And the spare room offer is still open.”
“Alright, if you insist. I don’t know that I could manage sleeping on theTickettonight,” Gabriel said with a grin. “I’ll be right back. I’m grabbing my go-bags out of the car.”
When he returned, Elton was at his table and poking at his phone with a single finger, presumably finding Gordon’s phone number again. Gabriel kept moving.
The bathroom was, unsurprisingly, small. There was no tub, only a corner shower. Privacy was provided by a utilitarian vinyl curtain and behind that was a showerhead low enough that Gabriel knocked his head against it multiple times as he soaped up and rinsed off not just once but twice. At least he missed hitting the still sore spot on his forehead. Finally, he was clean enough and warm again.
By the time he turned off the water, the small room had completely steamed up, becoming a tiny sauna. Even better, the mirror above the sink was totally fogged so he didn’t have to look at his reflection.
After he’d toweled off, Gabriel tugged his final pair of clean Levis over slightly damp legs, noting that the still tender gash in his thigh seemed to be healing well. He could cross tetanus off his mental list of worries. From one of his duffles, he pulled out a black long-sleeved pocket-T and a faded Mariners sweatshirt to complete his ensemble.
With one last swipe of the towel across his head, Gabriel hung it on the rail and grabbed his bag. He debated shaving but decided against it, regardless of the silver specks. For one, he hated to shave, and for two, his stomach was trying to gnaw its way out of his body.
Gabriel followed his nose past mismatched placemats on the table in the main room and peeked in the tiny kitchen where Elton was stirring what Gabe assumed was the famous chili.
“Thanks, Elton,” he said, setting his bags down near the end of the couch before stepping over to lean his shoulder against the kitchen door frame. “That was a religious experience.”
Elton glanced at him. “You could have done that yesterday. Stubborn like your mom, I guess. Do you want the works? Cheese, sour cream, onions?”
“Sounds excellent.”
“That stuff’s in the fridge. If you don’t mind grabbing it and putting it on the table, I’ll bring this out.” Elton shuffled over to the cabinet where he stored his dishes and pulled out two bowls.
Gabriel did as he was told, even if he wanted to grab the heavy pot instead, and have Elton get the toppings. His assistance, he suspected, would not be well received.
“So,” Elton began once they were both sitting and had steaming bowls of chili in front of them, “Gordon never returned my calls.”
“Is that odd?”
Elton spooned a bite into his mouth and waggled his head back and forth as he chewed and swallowed. “Eh. He has property out of town, up The Valley, and sometimes reception is bad—maybe he needed to check something? But I am surprised he didn’t call back.”
“Did you leave a message?” A stupid question, but he couldn’t take it back.
“Twice. Number went straight to voicemail both times.” Elton sounded worried.
“Is he,” Gabriel asked carefully, “a flake? Generally unreliable?”
“I wouldn’t say that he’s a flake, not really.” He scooped more chili onto his spoon. “But not much I can do today anyway. You need the deed of sale forThe Golden Ticket? I heard Casey asking you for it.”
“Yeah, I guess do.”
“I don’t have it,” Elton informed him after chewing and swallowing.
Gabe froze in the middle of a bite and had to remind himself to finish before responding. “Shit, that complicates things.”
“Not much. It’s just going to take a bit longer than the twenty-four hours Casey gave you. Don’t worry about the timing, I’ll sort it out with him.”
Gabe set the spoon down with a clatter. “If you don’t have it, then who does?”
Elton grimaced and shut one eye, as if whatever he had to tell Gabriel would be better if only one of his eyes were open.
“Your father’s aunt. I’ve just been the caretaker all these years. Nobody’s ever asked me for the deed before.”
“My father’s aunt,” Gabriel said, forming the words slowly as if they were foreign to him. Because they fucking were. “Why the fuck—and I do mean fuck—does family keep popping up out of the fucking blue?”
