Read Clutches and Curses Online

Authors: Dorothy Howell

Clutches and Curses (14 page)

BOOK: Clutches and Curses
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“The Rio Hotel and Casino in Vegas?” I asked.
“Everybody loves the buffet there,” Cliff said.
I couldn't argue with that.
“Do you think the aliens stole your car?” I asked.
“Oh, man, I hadn't thought of that.” Cliff slapped himself on the forehead. “Well, at least they didn't get my field investigation kit. I had it at home. Or . . . I think it's at home. Maybe.”
“I'm sure Eric or Dwayne will let you borrow theirs,” I said.
“Yeah, we're tight like that,” Cliff said. “See you later, Dana.”
I held back a little and let him leave the store ahead of me—just in case Eric and Dwayne were waiting—then went outside. The parking lot in front of the store was emptying out. I stood by the door digging in my purse—a fabulous Gucci—for my keys, when a car whipped to the curb and hit the brakes.
My heart jumped. It was a gorgeous blue, BMW Z4 Roadster convertible. The top was down. Jack sat behind the wheel. I knew he owned a Land Rover. I'd never seen this car before.
“Must have been a cool ride here from L.A. in this,” I said and walked over.
He gave me his sexiest grin. “Want to go for a ride?”
“Go for a ride? No way. I want to
drive it
.”
His grin got sexier. He stepped from the car and eased close. I felt the heat from his body and smelled his cologne.
“You know what they say,” he whispered. “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”
Oh, wow. This was way hot.
Another car rolled to a stop, nosed up against Jack's BMW. A black Lincoln Town Car. The driver's side door opened. A uniformed chauffeur jumped out and opened the back door.
Ty got out.
C
HAPTER
14
T
y and Jack spent a few minutes doing some male whose-is-bigger posturing, puffing out their chests, squaring their shoulders, stretching up to see who's tallest—which was all really hot—while shaking hands and pretending to like each other. Jack left. The chauffeur drove the Town Car a few yards away and waited.
I wondered if I was looking at my future ex-boyfriend. Had he flown all this way to break up with me? Would he have sent me flowers if that were his intention?
Yes, he would. Aside from being a sometimes crappy boyfriend, Ty was still a nice guy.
My heart thudded in my chest, waiting for him to say something.
“I'm sorry,” he said.
His suit jacket hung open, his tie was pulled down, and he'd popped the top button on his shirt. A few strands of hair were out of place. This was the closest to disheveled Ty ever came.
He looked tired, too. Something more than just lack of sleep.
I should have been angry with him and, deep down, I was. But that warm gooey feeling in my stomach I always get when he's around told me I still cared for him.
“I know I haven't been the best boyfriend in the world. I know I haven't treated you the way you deserve to be treated. I get that, and I'm sorry,” Ty said. “But I've always been up front with you about it. I told you from the start that I can't be a twenty-four-seven guy.”
It was true. He'd said it the first night we'd been alone in his apartment and were about to make love, only to be interrupted by some problem involving Holt's. We'd had this conversation before.
A wave of here-comes-the-breakup-speech swamped me.
Not a great feeling.
“That's why we should move in together,” Ty said.
I just looked at him. Had I heard him right? I hadn't drifted off or anything—at least, I didn't think I had.
“If you move in with me, we'll be together every night,” Ty said. “We'll wake up together every morning.”
He wanted us to move in together? For real?
“I can't be the guy who's always there, Haley. But I can give you a comfortable life.” He shook his head, looking troubled. “I didn't know you were struggling with your school expenses. I thought you had it covered.”
Guess I shouldn't have been surprised to hear him say that. Last thing Ty knew, I'd come into a whopping big sum of money—long story—and he probably figured I still had it. I'd never gotten around to telling him that the money was long gone.
He grinned a little. “I know you well enough that you didn't ask your parents for it.”
I grinned back. He knew me pretty well, for sure.
“I can pay your college tuition. Books, fees, everything,” Ty said. “You're just about to graduate by now, aren't you?”
No way was I answering that one.
“I'll cover everything,” he said. “Rent, your car payment. You can go to school full time. You can quit work.”
My heart leaped. Quit my job at Holt's? Could my dreams really come true?
Ty eased a little closer. “I wouldn't care how much money you spent, Haley. You can buy whatever you want.”
Now I was speechless.
“I don't want to lose you, Haley. You're the magic in my life. Please say you'll move in with me.”
I guess he mistook my stunned silence as reluctance.
He nodded. “Think it over.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“Just promise me you'll think about it,” Ty said.
He touched his palm to my cheek. My knees wobbled.
“I'll take care of you, Haley. You'll never want for anything. I swear.”
He leaned down and kissed me. Not a hot we're-about-to-make-love kiss. This one was tender, caring, loving.
“I have to go,” Ty said.
That snapped me out of my move-in-together stupor.
“Already?” I asked. “You just got here.”
“I have a meeting.”
Oh my God. Ty had flown all the way here from Los Angeles just to tell me these things in person? Wow.
“I'll give you a ride to McCarran,” I said. The airport was only a few miles away, but it would be great to spend the time together.
“The jet is waiting for me,” Ty said, and gestured for the Town Car.
I'd seen a sign for the Henderson Executive Airport on St. Rose Parkway.
“The jet?” I asked. “You own a jet?”
“Holt's owns it, technically,” Ty said.
The Town Car rolled up. The chauffer hopped out and opened the rear door.
“Come to L.A. with me,” Ty said.
“What—now?”
I was as spontaneous as the next gal—and I'd always wanted to join the Mile High Club—but I wasn't ready to go along with Ty's plan just yet. And, of course, I was a murder suspect and had been told not to leave town.
No reason to mention that to Ty.
“I've got a lot of thinking to do,” I said.
He nodded. “Think about where you'd like to live. We can buy a new place, wherever you want. Do you like the beach?”
“Of course.”
“I'll call you,” Ty said. He gave me another kiss—a quick one—got into the Town Car and pulled away. I watched him disappear onto Valle Verde.
What the hell had just happened?
 
Something stronger was definitely called for after the conversation I'd just had with Ty, but I settled for a mocha frappuccino. I went through the Starbucks drive-through and headed for the Culver Inn.
Honestly, I could barely stomach the thought of going in that place right now. It wasn't particularly pleasant under the best of circumstances, and at the moment it seemed especially dismal.
Jack had been in my room last night, and I knew he wouldn't come back tonight. Yes, I knew it was for the best, and that he was taking the high road—even though he'd showed up at Holt's wanting to take me for a ride in a hot sports car. But the point was that we were both respecting my relationship with Ty. Jack would expect that Ty would be with me at the Culver Inn tonight or, more likely, that he'd take me to someplace really fabulous.
Only Ty wouldn't be here, either.
Just moments ago I'd had two—count them, two— really hot guys orbiting me like smoldering fireballs, and now both of them were gone. So here I was, alone, self-medicating with a mocha frappuccino, trying to find a way to fill my evening.
What's up with my life, anyway?
A chill swept over me—and it wasn't from the frappuccino. That curse. That stupid curse. Could it really have caused all this?
I pulled into the Culver Inn parking lot, left my car in the check-in lane, dashed up to my room, and retrieved my laptop. On the way back through the lobby, I picked up a map of Vegas from the display of brochures by the elevator, got into my car again, and took off.
Last night the search pattern for the Delicious handbag I'd been formulating had been interrupted when Jack had shown up at my door, so I now intended to finish it.
Yeah, okay, I knew it wasn't the most exciting way to spend my evening, but I didn't have lots of choices here. It beat investigating an alien sighting with Cliff, Eric, and Dwayne, I guess.
Although the Rio buffet would be good.
If Marcie had been in town, we'd have gotten together with beer and snacks—heavy on the chocolate—and discussed this new chapter in my moving-in-with-Ty saga in depth. I hadn't heard from her today, so I figured that meant her sprained ankle hurt too much and she was probably floating someplace above reality on prescription painkillers.
Lucky her.
I thought about calling Maya. She was my Henderson BFF, but I didn't know her well enough to discuss the whole should-I-move-in-with-Ty situation. Besides, explaining our history would take forever.
Maybe it was for the best, I decided, as I sucked down the last of my frappuccino. I didn't really know how I felt about moving in with Ty—or the things he'd offered to do for me. I needed time to process it.
I pulled into another—yes, another—Starbucks. Inside, I bought another mocha frappuccino—only because it was rude to take up space and not drink something, of course. Luckily, I had my pageant queen mother's metabolism and could burn off calories quicker than a supermodel could make the turn at the end of a Paris catwalk.
I set up my laptop at a table by the window and got down to business.
The search for the Delicious handbag had proved more difficult and complex than I'd experienced before—which was saying a lot. Truthfully, I've got mad skills when it comes to hunting down something important like a fabulous handbag.
Yet, oddly enough, I didn't like looking for something that was lost—like keys, or a wallet, or a cell phone. The whole process irritates me worse than finding an expired 50-percent-off coupon at the bottom of my purse.
Probably just as well I didn't work for the FBI's missing persons bureau. My what-the-hell-they'll-turn-up-sooner-or-later attitude probably wouldn't go over very well.
Since I'd exhausted my usual search methods, I decided to kick up my pursuit of the Delicious to the next level—color coding. I broke out my marking pens and the map of The Strip.
Of course, before I started any project on my laptop—yeah, okay, mostly it was homework—I first checked my e-mail and my Facebook page. I saw that Stephanie Holden, Courtney's Vegas friend, had contacted me.
Wow. That surprised me a little. Guess she and Courtney had been close if she was willing to talk to a stranger. I dialed the number she'd given me.
“Oh, yes, Haley, of course,” Stephanie said, when I introduced myself. She sounded tense and rushed. “I'm glad you—hang on.”
She covered the phone, then came back on the line.
“Look, I'll talk to you,” she said, “but—wait a minute.”
Stephanie shielded the phone again. I heard muffled shouts in the background. She came back and said, “I don't want any trouble. Is that clear?”
Less than a minute into the conversation and already I was lost.
“It's clear,” I said, which wasn't true, of course, but, oh well.
“I liked Courtney,” she said. “But friendships only go so far.”
I got a weird feeling.
“I did what I had to do. Can you understand that?” Stephanie asked. She sounded upset, a little desperate maybe.
Oh my God. Was she telling me she'd somehow been involved with Courtney's murder?
I had no clue what the heck she was getting at so what could I say but, “Sure.”
“All right, then. Come over,” Stephanie said, sounding relieved. “I'll explain everything that happened.”
She gave me her address. I wrote it on the map of Vegas in bright blue marker.
“After seven. Not before—not a minute before,” Stephanie said.
“Okay. After seven.”
“My husband isn't here,” she said, as if that explained something, and hung up.
I closed my phone, not sure what had just happened—I was getting a lot of that tonight.
One thing for certain, I didn't feel so great about showing up at her house at a designated hour—one she'd absolutely insisted on. I mean, I didn't know her or anything, and from the things she said, Stephanie might very well have been involved in Courtney's murder.
Was she taking the time between our phone conversation and my arrival at her house to load a gun? Did she intend to confess, clear her conscience, then blow me away?
Not a great feeling.
Maybe I should call Jack.
I stared out the window at the Starbucks parking lot, thinking over my options.
Jack would know how to handle the situation, plus I was sure he was always packing heat. What's the point of having a private detective for a friend if you couldn't call on him at a time like this? Jack had always been there for me before. I knew he wouldn't let me down.
Of course, Jack would ask why I wasn't with Ty tonight. I didn't want to tell him that Ty had flown in just for a few minutes, then left again. It would make Ty look like a jerk and no way would I do that. Plus, it might make me look like a complete idiot for putting up with it, and I wasn't anxious to have Jack think of me that way.
For a split second, I considered calling Detective Dailey just so someone would know where to start searching for my body if I didn't show up for work tomorrow morning. Just as quickly, I disregarded the idea. The farther I stayed from the homicide detectives, the better.
BOOK: Clutches and Curses
3.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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