Luck Be a Lady (Tahoe Tessie Mysteries) (10 page)

"Thank you for choosing The Royal Palace for your Lake Tahoe stay. My name is Alicia, and I'll be checking you in today," an energetic brunette bubbled in his place. Though her expression turned from pert to one of fear and concern as she spied our little group approaching.

"Buzz us through," Alfie barked as he walked up beside me.

Her rounded eyes never left his narrowed ones as her shaky hand slid under the counter. The door creaked open, and Alfie stepped in front of the group, taking the lead. I felt as though I was being led to my last meal as the security team corralled me through the door. My worst fears were confirmed when I saw Mrs. Ditmeyer standing there, arms crossed firmly over her bedazzled, leopard-print bosom.

Her arm shot out, an accusatory finger pointed mere inches from my nose. "You."

"But, I… he," I sputtered, pointing my finger at the very guard who'd helped me lock up the necklace.

Mrs. Ditmeyer gave me the same up and down scan she had when we'd first met, punctuating it with a quiet snort of disgust. "I don't need excuses or passing the blame. I need my necklace. Now!"

I glanced around the room at the inquisitive faces, all looking at me for answers.

"I put it in the safe." My words sounded shaky even to my own ears.

"You closed the door?" Alfie asked.

"Yes, of course."

"You locked it?" He took a step toward me, his eyes scanning my face.

"Yes," I repeated.

"And you're sure it latched? And it was secure?" He now stood directly in front of me.

"Yes?"

Alfie narrowed his gaze.

"I mean, yes, definitely sure. Very." And I was. "At least ninety-five percent." I tilted my chin, nodding to add confidence to my statement.

Alfie waved an arm toward his minions, and they scattered from the vault, including the guard. I attempted to follow suit, but he caught my collar in his iron grip.

"Mrs. Ditmeyer," Alfie implored, "Please allow my team a chance to look into this travesty. In the meantime, your room and all of your meals are on the house." He pulled her chubby fingers into his free hand and planted a light kiss on her knuckles.

With eyelashes fluttering fast enough to stir a breeze, she purred, "Alfonso, you sweet talker, I'll look forward to your call."

After releasing my shirt, he escorted her to the exit of the vault, filling the door, undoubtedly to prevent my escape. "Schedule yourself a massage and have them bill me," he cooed in her direction, as he watched her disappear into the crowd.

Then he turned to me. His smooth-talking façade dropping, his menacing face quickly replacing it as he closed the door behind him. "Ninety-five percent?"

"Look, the guard actually put the necklace in the box, but I watched him lock it. That's why I gave myself five percent wiggle room."

His eyes narrowed, a small vein in his neck throbbing. "You never leave any room for doubt in a customer's mind. Ever," his voice boomed. "Nine more days," he whispered as he cracked each of his knuckles and studied his shoes intently. "Well, I'm sure a lesson was learned today, at least. By someone. We'll have to write it off as negligence." His gaze narrowed on me.

I felt like I had been hurled back in time, standing before the elementary school principal after socking Alison Daley when she called me a freckle-faced fatty. Small, insignificant, and regretting ever having set foot in this place. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders, telling myself I was not at fault here no matter how much Alfie's steely gaze tried to tell me I was.

"This was not negligence. It was theft."

That vein throbbed double time. "It was in our hotel safe. There's no way someone could have broken in here."

"'Someone?'  No. An employee, yes."

He took a step toward me. "Just what are you implying, Ms. King?"

I felt my confidence waiver, but I was in full throttle now. "What you must already know. Someone inside the casino stole from Carvell, and I'd bet money the same person took the necklace, too."

Alfie froze, his face a perfect poker-playing blank. Then he shook his head as if deciding I wasn't worth it. "Insurance will cover the necklace. Stintner's already filling out the paperwork."

"We should be stopping the thefts, not just sending them to our attorney to write off as a cost of doing business." I inched forward, jutting my gaze up to meet his. "Any successful business is about people, not just numbers. Carvell was upset enough to leave. I'm willing to bet the Toilet Tissue Queen won't take the news that she's not getting that necklace back any better. Why won't you get someone in here to investigate?"

"We are investigating."

"I mean the police."

That vein pulsed so hard I thought it might pop as Alfie took another step toward me, the scent of stale cigars permeating my nostrils. "Well, this one falls on you, boss. You want a cop breathing down your neck during your short stint with the casino?"

"Uh, that would be the guard's neck, not mine." I pointed behind me like he was there.

"That guard did not take that necklace. If someone did swipe the necklace, it was someone way above his pay-grade. It takes more than one person to open that door," he said, gesturing behind him. "There's no sign of forced entry, so the finger will point back to you, sweetheart. I'm not going to let that kind of heat from the cops cripple your father's empire because you
think
you saw the guard lock the box."

"First off," I shouted, gaining steam, "I'm not your sweetheart. Secondly, I don't want my father's empire crippled any more than you do. It's just too much of a coincidence this happened so quickly after the theft in Carvell's room. They have to be related."

Alfie shook his head. "The M.O. is totally different than the others."

I froze. "
Others
? As in, plural?" I took a step back. "That's what the secret handshake look between you and the other security guy was all about in Carvell's room." I tried to reign in my spiral of emotions, but it was no use. I paced the small area. "I knew there was something more going on. What kind of numbers are we talking here?"

Alfie growled, staring daggers at me for a few seconds before shaking his head. "Three others in the past two months. All of them from room safes, all secure with no forced entry. Carvell and another guy were buy-ins to a private high-stakes game."

I waited patiently for the rest of the stats. Okay, I waited for a couple of seconds before prodding him along. "And the other two?"

Alfie shrugged his huge shoulders. "The guys wouldn't say. But, considering we don't exactly condone that sort of thing, it's not out of the question that they were holding out on us."

"And now the necklace is missing." My mind was spinning with possibilities of how the robberies fit together. It had to be more than mere coincidence.

"The necklace is a fluke. We've had other stuff turn up missing and have had people with sticky fingers in the past. You need to go join Mrs. Ditmeyer at the spa and butt out." He beat on the steel door, and it was immediately opened.

My cell phone chirped to life, saving Alfie from the not so nice words poised on my tongue. I followed Alfie through the door and out into the lobby, watching Rafe's number appear on my screen as I pulled the phone from my pocket.

"Hey," I answered, making a conscious effort to keep the lingering anger from my conversation with Alfie out of my voice.

"Hey, yourself. Ready to hit the mountain?"

Crap. In all of the excitement, I'd forgotten all about my promise to Rafe. While playing ski bum was the last thing on my to-do list, I had to admit that working my anger out through some physical activity might not be a bad thing. Not to mention getting away from the casino for a couple of hours. "Um, I didn't really pack for snowboarding. I don't even have gloves." I looked around at the maze of hallways wondering which one took me to the pro shop.

"No worries. You're about the same size as my manager. Come on up to my room. I've got some of her stuff stashed here."

While borrowing the Barbie's gear ranked up there with eating glass, I was left with little choice. Within a few minutes, I was standing at his door. I took a big gulp of air, telling Teen-me that she was to stay firmly behind this time. This was an outing for the adults. The ones who were just two friends, doing a little snowboarding together. No giggling, no crushing, no heart-doodling.

I knocked, and the door was immediately opened by Rafe, who was still buttoning up his shirt. His chest was tanned, chiseled, and smooth. I'm pleased to report that even in the face of the hormone rush, I was able to keep Teen-me from jumping him on the spot. Just call me Ms. Restraint.

He raised a brow. "Everything okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, why?" I forced myself to look at anything but him, glancing around his pristine suite. It was a copy of mine, though flipped to the mirror image. I wasn't sure what I had expected, but it was clear this was just a landing pad for Rafe, the room void of any personal touches. In fact, the only things not tidily tucked away by housekeeping were his gear and an awful, bright pink blob lying on his sofa I prayed wasn't what I thought it was.

"You stand goofy, right?" he asked.

I took a moment to review boarding lingo, remembering that goofy meant right foot forward, regular meant left. I nodded.

"That's what I thought I remembered. So does Sasha. She's got a board stashed with my stuff at the lodge. She's about your height and weight, so it should work."

I took that as a supreme compliment, considering that in the poster I'd seen she'd looked at least two dress sizes smaller than I was. But if you took into account the extra weight from her inflated boobs, he might be close to right.

"We might have to rent you boots, but Sasha's coat and ski pants should fit you just fine." He motioned toward the pink puff.

Damn. On the flip side, there'd be no problem finding me in an avalanche.

I forced a smile to my face and unfolded the mound. Yep, the pants matched the pink puff of a jacket. Goody. I stepped into the bathroom and swapped my skirt out a pair of stretch pants (in pink, too, of course), a form-fitting top and the pink marshmallow man outfit. The pants were a little snug, but nothing I couldn't move in. But when I put on the coat, I had plenty of extra room in the chest area. Of course I did.

I came out to see Rafe in his black gear covered in endorsement patches, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

"What?" I asked.

"You should wear pink more often," he said, sending me one of his groupie-swooning smiles. "You look cute in it."

  The hot snowboarder called me cute. Teen-me just about died.

"Let's hit the powder," he said, grabbing me by the hand and propelling me to the elevator. We hit the lobby and made our way out into the parking area without Rafe even acknowledging anyone who tried to stop us. Fans seemed to have tag-teamed themselves in our path, but he didn't seem to notice. I'm sure I was nothing more than a pink blur to everyone. The cool air outside was a welcome relief after being bundled up in the warm hotel.

The walk from the casino to the gondola at Heavenly Ski Resort was just over a block, long enough to be glad when we hit the rustic building, but not so tiring that I was out of breath. I was happy that with Rafe's celebrity status we were able to circumvent the long lift line. We were escorted by the staff around the building, through the back entrance, directly to the gondola. Sitting next to each other on the gondola, I stared out over a deep blanket of snow, real and manufactured. We rose past crags and valleys as we traveled up the pine speckled mountainside. I hadn't realized until that moment how very much I'd missed it all:  the cool bite of the air, the starkness of a fresh blanket of snow, the excitement building as you rode the smooth lift to the peak.

"So, I looked up your gallery online," Rafe said, breaking into my thoughts.

"My artists are awesome, aren't they?" I said, unable to help the bit of pride in my voice.

He turned his green eyes toward me. "They were good," he said, though I detected a note of hesitation in his voice.

"But?" I asked, jumping on it.

"But I didn't see anything from you."

"Me?" I laughed. "God, no. I'm not an artist. I'm a curator."

"Why did you settle for that?"

"I… I didn't
settle
," I sputtered, suddenly feeling like I had to defend myself.

"You didn't go to art school to buy other people's stuff. You went to paint."

Luckily I was saved from having to answer that as the gondola jerked to a stop, cutting our conversation short. We made our way out the door and across the well-traveled snowy paths. People flocked around Tamarack Lodge, a log cabin style spot that sold $5 hot cocoa and massively overpriced beer. Some people slid around on skis, others tramped in furry boots, all of them wearing sunglasses to cut the glare off the brilliantly white snow.

We made our way to Rafe's private locker, where he produced a pair of boards—his black and covered in more endorsements, mine baby pink. I was really starting to hate Sasha. We found an empty bench, and Rafe grabbed a small screwdriver attached to the side of it to adjust my bindings. While he did, I breathed in the clean, crisp air and couldn't help the sigh that escaped me when I exhaled.

I heard Rafe chuckle beside me.

"What?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. Breathe it in, girl."

"Hey, I've been inhaling that city crap for years. This stuff is… invigorating. Intoxicating. It's orgasmic," I blurted out. Then instantly wished I had a verbal delete key.

Rafe's hearty laugh echoed between the peaks. "Honey, you've been dating the wrong guys." Then he winked at me.

Oh, boy. Was he flirting with me? Teen-me blushed so hard her cheeks felt like mini-heaters. And Adult-me got warm in places distinctly more R-rated.  

Several of the boarders around us turned at the sound of Rafe's voice, then started whispering and pointing as they recognized him. He grabbed my hand again, tugging me to the Tamarack Express lift before they could descend upon us.