It was a short flight to Reno. The plane swooped over the mountains and then seemed to drop straight down. I was glad I didn’t have a drink in my hand. I also made a mental note never to fly into Reno again—at least, not from Los Angeles.
I got a taxi at the airport and told the driver to take me to a good motel within walking distance of the casinos.
He nodded. “There’s a good one at Fourth and Virginia,” he said. “You’ll be three blocks from some of the biggest casinos. Okay?”
“Fine,” I said.
It was a short drive from the airport. The motel looked all right from the outside, so I paid off the driver and went in. The room was fine and I took it for one or two nights. When I was alone, the first thing I did was to remove my shoulder holster and put it and the g*n in the attaché case. I
