Chapter Twenty Seven

Hep and Scroat parked their motorcycles in the Binion’s garage. Hep was worn out and hungry, but Scroat’s energy and enthusiasm had no apparent bounds. He was, in fact, dancing somewhat as they walked to the elevator that would take them down to the casino.

“We’re in Vegas! We’re in fucking Veeeegas!” he sang. “Good things come to those who wait!”

“Yes, we’re here. Try to remember we’re looking for Inktomi, not just a good time,” Hep said.

“Who said we can’t have a good time while we look for Inktomi. Besides, it sounds like we’re just going to have to cruise on over to the blackjack tables and grab him. And then it’ll be fucking party time.”

“We’ll see,” Hep said.

“Don’t be a downer, Hep. It’s against the law in Las Vegas,” Scroat said.

The elevator was uncomfortably small, and poorly lit. As soon as the door shut, Hep wished very strongly that he would have just taken the stairs instead. Scroat, apparently, hadn’t noticed.

The elevator reached their floor, and they walked out into a darkly paneled room. There was a stairway at one end of the room with a sign that directed them upstairs for the casino. They went up the stairs, and found themselves stepping back in time to old Las Vegas.

“Oh fuck yeah! Inktomi has fantastic taste,” Scroat said. “Let’s play some blackjack and then go find the hookers.”

“Let’s try to find Inktomi first, OK?” Hep said. The noise and crowd in the casino was a little much for him at the time. He hadn’t eaten or slept for twenty four hours. The wandered over to the blackjack tables, and walked past each table, looking for Inktomi. There was no sign of him. They checked the poker room, with no joy there either.

“Now what?” Scroat asked.

“Now we get some lunch, and hang out a bit, and see what happens,” Hep said.

There just so happened to be a lunch counter in the middle of the casino. Hep and Scroat grabbed a stool, and each ordered a couple of burgers. They had the counter to themselves for the time being, and the guy working the counter didn’t seem eager to converse, so they sat quietly, and watched the crowd. Hep was looking for Inktomi, and Scroat was just enjoying the seediness of it all.

Their food was delivered, and they both ate with great enthusiasm. When they were done, the two of them walked through the entire casino, looking for Inktomi. He wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“Maybe he’s in one of the other casinos,” Scroat said. “He might have gotten thrown out of this one, or just decided it didn’t have the right mojo today.”

“Well, it won’t hurt to go check, I suppose,” Hep said. They left Binion’s, and walked down Fremont Street, hoping for a clue, or even a hunch, that would lead them to where Inktomi was holed up.

As they were walking, Hep saw someone he recognized. They walked over to where he was standing, leaning against a wall and watching people walk by.

“Coyote?” Hep said.

“Hey! Hep and Scroat! How are you guys doing? Did you come to Vegas for a little action?”

“Not exactly. How about you?”

“Well, I’ve been running a simple con, until my partner ran off. I haven’t seen her for a couple of days now and I don’t think she’s coming back. No big loss, I guess. This is Vegas. The place is crawling with small time hustlers. But what do you mean you’re not exactly here for action. What are you here for then?”

“We’re looking for Inktomi, have you seen him?” Hep said.

Coyote looked around, as if to see if anyone was listening in.

“He split,” Coyote said.

“Fuck!” Scroat said. “We still get to hang out in Vegas for a while, right Hep? Huh? Don’t we deserve a little fun?”

“What do you mean, he split? Do you know where he went? And why?” Hep said.

“We were playing blackjack, and some guy came up to Inktomi and whispered in his ear. Inktomi looked like he saw a ghost and said he was leaving once we finished the hand,” Coyote said.

“Did he say where he was going?” Hep asked.

“Yeah, he said he was going to hole up in Pahrump, and not to tell anyone where he went. But I figure I can trust you guys,” Coyote said.

“Who was the guy who talked to him?” Hep said.

“I don’t know. Some guy. Looked kind of bookish. A little tubby maybe, and pale,” Coyote said.

“Robert fucking Wheeler. I told you that guy was up to something,” Scroat said.

“It’s not Robert Wheeler. There are tons of tubby, pale nerds in Las Vegas,” Hep said.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure the guy said his name was Robert Wheeler,” Coyote said. “Hey, have either of you got a smoke?”

“See? I told you that guy was up to no good!” Scroat said.

Hep ran his hand over his face. What the Hell was going on, he wondered. It was bad enough that Scroat might have been correct the whole time, but what did this guy they had never even heard of before bumping into him on a highway one night want with them?

“Sorry, no smokes. Are you sure the guy said his name was Robert Wheeler?” Hep said.

Coyote nodded. “Yep, he whispered something into Inktomi’s ear, and then stood up and said something lame like ‘or my name isn’t Robert Wheeler,’ which I figured was a pretty good indication that his name was Robert Wheeler. It’s possible I misheard though. Everyone else at the table was distracted, so I pocketed a bunch of chips the guy next to me wasn’t paying attention to.”

“Well that’s just fucking awesome,” Scroat said. “There’s some psycho who’s been stalking us around the country, and now he’s chasing the guy we’re trying to catch.”

“Did Inktomi say where he was going to hide out in Pahrump?” Hep asked Coyote.

“No, but there are only a couple of motels there, and there aren’t too many people who drive brown Cadillacs from the early eighties anymore. And I don’t think he knows anyone who has a house there, so he should be easy to find.”

“Well, I guess we’d better get to Pahrump, then,” Hep said.

“What? No! We just got to Vegas. Inktomi is holed up there, so we’ll have a day or two before we need to go to Pahrump. We need to stay here!”

Just then a man walked up and handed them each a flyer. “Have a great time in Vegas,” he said.

Hep looked down and saw the flyers were for a brothel in Pahrump. Printed over the photos of barely dressed women was a “2 for 1” offer. He rolled his eyes.

Almost on cue, Scroat said, “You know what? I guess we could go to Pahrump. Priorities, right?”

“Right. Let’s go,” Hep said. “See you later, Coyote.”

“Yeah, man. Good luck. Don’t get in to too much trouble,” Coyote said.

Hep and Scroat went back through Binion’s. Scroat asked if he was sure they couldn’t stay for just a couple hands of blackjack. Hep told him they could gamble after they’d found Inktomi. They rode back up the scary elevator, which had not gotten any more comforting in the last couple of hours, and went over to their bikes.

“So how long of a drive is it to Pahrump?” Scroat asked.

“About an hour,” Hep asked.

“Sweet. In an hour and a half, I’ll be taking advantage of one Hell of a two for one special,” Scroat said.

“If we find Inktomi in less than half an hour, sure.”


The ride to Pahrump took Hep and Scroat over a mountain, and then it turned in to a straight shot across the desert. They started seeing huge, garish billboards for casinos, divorce lawyers, brothels, brothels with art galleries, more casinos, fast food and strip clubs (with brothels attached for your convenience) when they were about twenty miles outside of Pahrump. The juxtaposition between the billboards and the stark, barren desert was jarring, almost surreal.

They passed an RV parked on the side of the highway, selling various kinds of jerky. Hep hoped they’d be done with Pahrump in time to come back this way and buy some.

The first thing they saw when they rolled into town was an enormous strip club, with photos of the dancers twenty feet tall on the outside of the building. Up next was a run down strip mall, and then, curiously, a sign directing them to the Pahrump Winery.

A little further down the road, they found the first motel in town. Like the rest of the town, it looked like it had seen better days. Curious, because it had been built just five years ago.

Hep and Scroat turned into the parking lot, and cruised slowly through, looking for a ratty old brown Cadillac. There didn’t seem to be one, so they got back on to the main drag through town, and rolled on to the next. Once again, there was no sign of Inktomi. They stopped at each motel along the road, with no luck at any of them.

Hep was starting to get a little frustrated, when they turned into the parking lot for Terrible’s Town Casino. The place looked like an old west town right out of a Bugs Bunny cartoon, all bright, garish colors, with just a hint of sleaze. And right there, parked as close as possible to the entrance was an early eighties, brown Cadillac.

“I think this might be the place,” Hep said. He and Scroat found a parking spot, not quite as close to the entrance as Inktomi’s. They shut down their bikes, and walked towards the entrance. Hep felt rather ridiculous heading towards a cartoon casino, though the scummy looking people hanging around outside kept him from letting his guard down to far.

Hep opened the door, and they were hit by a blast of frigid air, and the constant racket of a casino. They walked inside.