But as I walked to the door of the “VIP Room,” the thumb of my free hand slipped casually into the pocket of my jeans and touched the button of the clicker device he’d given me. If Kelso was alone in there, then I was going to assume it was just him and Cynthia. There was an outside chance of someone else in the wings, but it seemed unlikely, and the clock was ticking. I turned the knob and pushed open the door. Kelso was alone, all right—standing in front of and apparently playing, of all things, an old-fashioned slot machine. There were a dozen of them lined up along the walls, ornately handsome one-armed bandits. The overall setup was a recreation of a tawdry gangster-era back room, where the “VIPs” could enjoy illegal gambling. When you thought things couldn’t get much stranger, that was when they stomped on the gas. I pressed the clicker button twice and then pulled my hand from my pocket as I stepped into the room.
