Innocent in Las Vegas (16 page)

I ate two cupcakes to celebrate, and once I was satiated with enough sugar, I decided to keep working at my night job until I had enough money saved up to quit for good. I knew I should call my parents and tell them the good news, that I had just solved my first case and was officially looking forward to a career as a private investigator. But calling my parents would also mean having to clear up that little misunderstanding about me moving in with Stone, and that was not a misunderstanding I looked forward to clearing up. Plus, before I could get the point across that Stone and I were definitely not living together, I’d probably have to listen to Nanna telling me that crotchless panties were going to be my new best friend. Ugh.

I ignored the guilt I felt about shunning familial obligations, and typed up my report for Sophia until it was time to head to the Treasury Casino and pretend to be a fun-loving dealer.

It was a busy night and I worked at the roulette wheel, the craps table and then the blackjack table. Despite how busy the pit was, my thoughts kept straying to Audrey and the goons who had been threatening me. I couldn’t believe that Vanessa was involved in everything, but I couldn’t come up with any other explanation.

I was mindlessly dealing cards to a group of young men playing blackjack, when I noticed my pit boss hovering around. I instantly stood up straighter. Something was wrong, or else he wouldn’t be hanging around near me for so long. At first I wondered if I was doing something wrong, whether I was making wrong payouts or maybe standing when I should hit. But then I noticed it was the players.

The man on the far right, a skinny, pimply fellow, had been playing at this table for quite some time. The man sitting in the middle had just joined a few hands ago. He wore glasses and had a strange, thick mustache, which I guessed was fake. Glasses was drinking a Diet Coke and Pimples sipped at a club soda. The man sitting on the far left had been nursing one whiskey for a long time.

Pimples wasn’t playing much – just betting the minimum hand each time and playing right by the book. In contrast, Glasses was playing erratically. He would bet the minimum one hand and then bet wildly on the next. He lost a few small bets and once in a while he’d lose a big bet. But he was up overall, which was rare for anyone who looked and played so amateurishly.

My spidey sense was tingly and within minutes I knew that Glasses was a card counter. It was obvious to me and it was obvious to the pit boss, so I wasn’t surprised when, a while later, a security guy named Mike came over and laid a hand on Glasses’ shoulder.

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” Mike said quietly, and Glasses didn’t bother to argue. He collected his chips and left.

“You too,” Mike said to Pimples, who nodded and made a beeline for the exit.

Mike vanished as unobtrusively as he’d appeared, and the drunk guy on the left ordered another whiskey.

“Hey,” he said to me. “Card-counters, huh? I guess they were in on it together.”

I made a non-committal noise and kept dealing. A couple of young women came to the table and joined him and as I dealt, I noticed that Whiskey Guy was actually a pretty good player. He was winning fairly regularly and after a few more hands, he got up, gave me a wink, and left.

And then it hit me. Whiskey Guy was a pretty good card counter. More importantly, he knew how to stay under the radar. And that’s how Audrey’s murder had happened.

I spent the rest of the night in a haze, wondering how I’d failed to see it before. I’m still not sure how I restrained myself from making the phone call right then, but somehow I managed to get to sleep without waking anyone at an ungodly hour.

The next morning, the first thing I did was to call Neil Durant. “How’s it going?” I asked. “Have you looked into Steven’s scam?”

He sounded glum. “Yes. You were right.”

“Well?”

“It’s too soon to prove, but we’re collecting evidence. The guy’s got a massive ring of dealers working for him and security guys covering his tracks.” He was silent for a moment and then said hopefully, “You wouldn’t consider working with us on this, would you? You know, photograph his meetings and stuff. Maybe even pretend to be a dealer?”

I smiled wryly. My first offer to work in casino security and I’d have to turn it down. “I’m sorry. Steven already knows who I am. And he’s got some thugs sicced on me, so I better stay out of his way.”

“Oh.” Neil was silent for a moment. “Congrats on getting Vanessa, by the way.”

“Thanks.” I had a brilliant idea and said, “Would you tell Steven that we caught the guy? Or girl, in this case. Maybe then he’ll call off his guys.”

“Yeah. Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

“That’s cool,” I said, and we hung up.

My next call was to Max Desilva. He sounded as mellow as ever.

“Max,” I said urgently, “When you were stalking Steven, did you ever see him go out on a date?”

“Sure,” he said, “I saw him once or twice in a fancy restaurant with this woman.”

“Did you get her name?”

“No, ’fraid not.”

“What did she look like?”

“Um, let me think. Dark brown hair, slightly chubby. In her twenties, I’d say.”

“Great! You’ve been an incredible help!”

That was all I needed, and as I said goodbye, I warned him that he might be asked to testify about the woman he saw.

“That’s fine,” he said, his good mood undiminished.

My next call was to Emily.

“Hey Tiffany,” she answered, “Congrats on solving the case. And wasn’t it lucky that when you came by, one of my cute co-workers was also there?”

I laughed. “Yeah. Thanks for introducing us. But that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Oh?”

“Who’s the detective dealing with Audrey’s murder?”

“Detective Martinez
was
. That case’s closed.”

“Not anymore. Tell Martinez to check the fingerprints he found at Audrey’s place with fingerprints of this guy. Steven Macarthur. He’s being investigated by the Riverbelle for casino fraud and he’s got a bunch of thugs working for him. If his prints don’t match up, one of his thugs’ might.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Emily said, “What makes you so sure?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Let me hear them.”

I sighed. “Fine, it’s like this. I thought Ethan and Audrey’s murders were connected. But I realized last night that they didn’t have to be connected – it could just be one person taking advantage of existing conditions. Like the fact that Ethan was already dead.”

“That doesn’t implicate Steven Macarthur in any way.”

“Ok. But Audrey was dating a big shot at the Riverbelle casino. Everyone knew that. We all thought it was Ethan, but turns out it wasn’t. It wasn’t Neil either. The only other big shot left is the manager, Steven. And Steven was seen dating a girl matching Audrey’s description –”

“By who?’

“Um, does it matter?”

“It does, actually.”

“Fine. By the ex-manager of the Riverbelle. He knew Steven well.” I left out the part that he had also been stalking Steven. “Anyway, Audrey discovered the scam. I’m not sure if she discovered it on her own or if Steven told her, but after she found out, she was considering telling Ethan. Steven managed to keep her quiet for a while by bribing her with expensive jewelry, but then she realized she was making a mistake and snapped.”

“And then Ethan was killed.”

“Exactly. Steven wouldn’t have hurt Ethan himself – if his scam came to light, he would’ve just convinced Ethan that he had been framed or something, and would have gotten away with it. But nobody else adored him the way Ethan did, so he couldn’t risk anyone else finding out. He convinced the board to can the audit, but Audrey was still threatening to tell Neil. So he threatened Audrey, and when that didn’t work, he wound up killing her. It was him or someone he hired.”

Emily was silent for a pretty long time. Finally, she said, “That’s an interesting theory and I’ll pass it on to Martinez. Let’s see if it holds up.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I hope the Ethan Becker case wasn’t just beginner’s luck.”

I could just about hear Emily shaking her head. “You’re a good PI, Tiff. I’m sure beginner’s luck has nothing to do with your work.”

I tried to spread the word at the Riverbelle that I’d finished with my investigating. But I wasn’t too sure how well the news had spread, so just to be on the safe side, I was staying at the Tremonte for a few more days. Just till Steven was arrested and put behind bars. Detective Martinez had assured me that it would happen sooner rather than later – Steven’s fingerprints had matched those found in Audrey’s apartment, and waiters at the restaurant had corroborated Max’s story about Steven and Audrey being seen on a romantic date.

I’d visited Glen one day and told him where I was staying, so for the past few days Glen had been coming over to the hotel in the morning and enjoying their buffet breakfasts with me. He didn’t have as large an appetite as I did, but we both enjoyed the free food, and I admitted to him that I was a PI, and the man chasing me hadn’t been my boyfriend. The news didn’t faze him one bit, and he promised that as soon as I moved back into my condo I was welcome to come over for cupcakes whenever I wanted.

A few days ago, I’d gone over to my parents’ for lunch. When I turned up alone on the doorstep, my mom and Nanna looked at me glumly.

“You broke up already?” Mom said. “I knew I should’ve bought you some nice clothes to wear.”

“Huh,” Nanna said. “And I knew I should’ve gone to Victoria’s Secret with you. You know they’ve got these nice thong panties now?”

I glared at both of them. “We were never together. I never moved in with him. You just misheard me.”

They seemed to not have heard the bit about me and Stone not being a couple.

My mom smiled. “You never moved in with him? Well, I guess that’s a relief.”

“Yup.” Nanna nodded. “I don’t care what they say about these modern times. You move in with a man, he’s never gonna marry you. You remember that now.”

I sighed.

Nanna went on. “You gotta go to Victoria’s Secret though, I know you’re still wearing your high school cotton undies. No wonder you can’t get a man. I’ll bet Stone likes the new, silky stuff they’ve got in stores these days.”

I glared at both of them and walked into the den where Dad was watching CNN.

“Where’s Stone?” he asked, looking mildly surprised.

“He’s not here,” Nanna declared from behind me. “Tiffany’s going to play it slow.”

Dad nodded. “That’s good. I don’t want you moving with a man we barely know.”

I gave him a hug and said, “I wouldn’t move in with someone without telling you. But, I do have big news!”

Nanna gasped. “You’re pregnant! And the baby’s not Stone’s!”

I glared at her. “How would that even happen?”

She shrugged and looked bored. “That’s what they always say in soap operas.”

Mom looked at me carefully. “She’s not pregnant,” she told Nanna, and then turned back to me. “You’re not, are you?”

I shook my head. “No. But I am a private investigator!”

I told them about how I’d worked for Sophia and solved the Ethan Becker murder
and
who was behind Audrey’s death. At the end of it, Dad said, “You should be careful, hon.”

I looked at him and smiled. I’d left out the parts about scary thugs and people breaking into my condo, but Dad still looked concerned.

“I am careful,” I said, “I’m taking Krav Maga classes and I just got a gun permit.”

Mom gasped and made disapproving noises about using firearms.

Nanna said, “I knew about it all along! Didn’t I, Tiff?” She turned to Mom triumphantly. “See, she tells me stuff. So if she
was
pregnant, she would’ve told me before she told you.”

Mom looked at me. “You’d tell me if you were pregnant, wouldn’t you?”

I almost threw up my hands in despair. “Of course I would. But I’m not. I don’t even have a boyfriend.”

“Except for Stone,” said my mom. “You be nice to him, I can tell he likes you.”

Nanna said, “What’s Krav Maga? Sounds pretty trendy. Maybe I should take classes with you. If I’m going to stay alive till I’m a hundred, I better stay trendy.”

I promised Nanna I’d take her with me to Krav Maga one day and Mom began quizzing me about Stone and my non-existent love-life. No matter how much I tried to explain that Stone and I were just friends, Nanna insisted on giving me advice about flirting with other men to make him jealous, and Mom gave me a recipe for chicken casserole that was ’sure to win a real man’s heart.’

I suffered through it all, because that’s what good daughters do. And then I went home, with a belly full of yummy home cooking, and a doggie bag full of leftovers.

I met Stone at eleven in the morning and he drove toward North Las Vegas. Since I was living in the Tremonte, I no longer needed his protection and it was the first time I’d seen him in a while. The ride was as wordless, as usual. I felt like I should say something, maybe thank him for his help. But I didn’t. I just switched on the radio to fill up the silence and changed the station to one that played the latest hits. Immediately, Stone switched it back to a country music station and I looked at him in surprise.

“Really?” I said. “The dog died and the wife ran off and you’re singing the blues? I didn’t take you for that kind of guy.”

“What kind of guy did you take me to be?”

The question threw me. I’d taken him to be the kind of guy who… No, I drew a blank.

We got out at the gun shop and Stone helped me select my very first gun, a Smith & Wesson. I knew I’d be uncomfortable carrying it, let alone using it, for a long time - until I had enough practice - and Stone seemed to read my mind. He drove us to a nearby gun range and we shot at paper targets in silence.

After a couple of rounds, Stone took off his protective earmuffs and came over to talk to me.

“How’s it going at the Tremonte?”

I was surprised he was actually making conversation, but I think I did a good job of not raising my eyebrows into my hairline.

“It’s ok,” I said. “I think I’ll stay on until Steven’s finally behind bars.”

He nodded. “Wise choice. Hope Sophia’s paying for it.”

I smiled. “Yeah, she is.”

“Great job on your case. You didn’t need to keep chasing Audrey’s killer after you’d nabbed Ethan’s.”

“Thanks,” I said, a bit surprised by the praise.

“But,” he said, “You need to work on your Krav Maga. Carla tells me you’re not hitting hard enough when you punch the groin.”

We grinned at each other and I was about to go back to firing practice when Stone said, “I think you’d fit in well at Stonehedge Security, if you’re ever interested in doing some work for us. Of course, you’d have to get better at hitting people before that.”

I smiled at him. “I’ll keep that in mind. And I’ll consider it if you ever tell me the truth about working at the CIA.”

A shadow passed over Stone’s face. “What makes you think I’m not telling you the truth?”

I thought carefully. It’s not that I thought he wasn’t telling me the truth – he just wasn’t telling me the
whole
truth.

Before I could say anything, Stone said, “Are you dating Nick Carlton?”

I looked at him in surprise. “What makes you think I am?”

He shrugged. “Little clues.”

“Do you know him?”

“No. But I guess he knows of me.”

“Yeah. He did warn me about you.”

Stone raised one eyebrow. “And are you warned?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, smiling. “Should I be?”

Stone smiled back and didn’t reply. He walked back to his side of the shooting range and put his earmuffs back on.

I watched him for a few seconds, the way he shot his targets, the way his hair fell slightly over his forehead and the way he could wrap you in a quiet blanket of security. Despite the way he’d abruptly changed the topic when I’d asked him about his CIA past.

And then I went back to practicing my shots.