Lucky Flash: A Lucky O'Toole Novella (The Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Series) (17 page)

“Until Freddy Mac got greedy.”

“How’d you know?”

“Good guess.”

“He was my pipeline into the black market.
 
Can’t really take the hot stuff to Christie’s, you know.
 
Then Busta’ Blue offered a ton of money for Liberace’s ring.”

“Wonder why?”

“Why does anybody want that shit?
 
Man, it’s addictive.” Passion infused his voice as he cupped his hands.
 
“Holding a piece of Vegas history.
 
Man, it’s a high like no other.”

“Addictive?”

“It’s heroin on crack, man.”

I felt sorry for Pismo, I really did.
 
This was the closest he’d ever get to greatness.
 
To the adulation of the crowds.
 
To being a part of Vegas and its history.
 
And that was all he had ever wanted, to be part of the story.
 
I was pretty sure the part he played wasn’t the part he had in mind.
 
But, oddly, I wasn’t sure he really cared about that.
 
“The police need a list of what you stole, and they’ll want you to write out your statement.”

“I know.”

I reached over and squeezed his hand.
 
“This show is closing, Johnny.
 
You’ve had your run.”

L
UCKY

I found Teddie at the piano in Delilah’s.
 
Clearly worried but trying not to show it, he played around with some Sinatra arrangements while the crowd half-listened.
 
When he caught sight of me he flashed a smile, one lacking its normal wattage.
 
I held up the valise, and he brightened.
 

“I chased this thing through downtown, but I got it.”
 
I wasn’t going to tell him about the toss from the top of the slide as I set the case next to him.
 
“I haven’t been able to look at them.
 
Will you check to make sure they’re okay?
 
They took a bit of a rough ride.”

“I was more worried about you.”
 
He undid the latch on the valise.

I didn’t know what to say.

He sensed that.
 
“What’s that on your sweater?”

I pulled the back of it around so I could see what he was talking about.
 
“Strawberry ice cream.
 
I landed in some.
 
Don’t ask.”

“So who was doing what to whom?
 
Dig Me O’Dell?
 
Did you figure what part he played?”

“The patsy.”

Teddie raised his eyebrows.
 
“Not a part he’d take kindly to.
 
What went down?”

“Busta’ Blue.
 
I’m guessing he wanted to sit at the top of the food chain.
 
I can’t prove it yet, but I’m pretty sure he arranged for Pismo to steal the take from your tour.
 
Then, with O’Dell’s back to the wall, Busta’ Blue figured Dig Me would start unloading his treasures to come up with enough cash to save his empire.”

“And when someone bought Liberace’s ring and discovered it was stolen?” Teddie formulated the thought as a question.

“With Dig Me’s past record, man, they’d lock him up forever.
 
And with him out of the way, Busta’ Blue would be sitting pretty in the catbird seat.”

“So Busta’ Blue set him up nice and tidy.” Teddie looked impressed.
 
“Pretty slick.”

“Pismo was the wildcard.
 
As long as the ring stayed in O’Dell’s collection, nobody would be the wiser.”

“But once he started liquidating…”
 
Teddie was following.

“Then Pismo would be exposed.
 
Busta’ could point the finger at him, and he’d take the fall for everything.
 
But Busta’ Blue didn’t count on Johnny Pismo’s ability for self-preservation.
 
That ring is the only piece we can trace to Pismo.
 
If he could put it back in the case at the Babylon, a reverse switch, before anyone was the wiser…”

“He’d be in the clear.” Teddie finished the thought.
 
“I’m guessing Dig Me will be back in business.”

“Your tour awaits you, I’m sure.”

He shrugged, looking a bit torn.
 
Stardom was an addictive drug.

I gestured to the valise sitting next to him.
 
“Don’t keep me in suspense.
 
Check them out, okay?”

He smiled and did as I asked. He looked at the minor treasures, then, one by one, he pulled the figurines out of their foam shells in the valise and held them up to the light.
 
“Look perfect.”
 
He nestled them back and closed the lid.
 
“Did you get to see the three together?”

“No. But I did see the one in Liberace’s boudoir.
 
It looked lonely.”

“I’ve agreed to lend my two to the collection.
 
I never understood why people buy stuff like this and then keep it all to themselves.
 
It’s part of our history and should be shared.”

“I know they’ll be thrilled.”
 
I shifted from foot to foot, an awkward silence stretching between us.
 
Something new.
 
We used to be so comfortable with each other.

“Buy you a drink?”

My phone chirped at my hip, saving me from indecision for a moment and giving me a chance to consider how I felt about a drink with Teddie.
 
I glanced at the caller ID and my heart soared.
 
“Hey, how’s the night going?”

“Busy, so many people want hamburgers.”
 
Jean-Charles sounded beat.
 
“How’s yours?”

“Successful.”

“Good.
 
I’m very tired. How does Champagne in bed sound while we share news of our day?”

I flicked a glance at Teddie who watched me, his face impassive, his eyes dark, hopeful. “Perfect.
 
I’ll meet you there.”

The hope faded.

I reholstered my phone as I looked at Teddie. I wanted to trust him again.
 
I wanted us to be friends.
 
I’d told him being lovers would ruin the friendship.
 
One of the few times I hated being right.
 
“Another time perhaps.

The light in his eyes blinked out.

“Teddie, can we go back to being friends?”

“Sure.
 
I’d like that.”

And I could tell that he did.

As I walked away, down the steps, he launched into the opening bars of
Lucky For Me.

This time, at least for now, my heart stayed strong.

Jean-Charles was debating over several bottles of bubbly in his bar off the TV room in the back of his house.
 

“I let myself in.”
 
I flung my purse onto the couch.
 
“Hope you don’t mind.”

“It is your home,” he said as he moved toward me, capturing me in a hug.
 
He held me tight, savoring.
 
“I’ve missed you.
 
Life is not right when you are not close to me.”

“I know.”
 
Home, he’d said.
 
I drew into myself.
 
Yes, in his arms I felt at home.
 

“You smell like strawberries.”

“Ice cream.
 
Long story.”

“You must tell me.”

“I will.”
 
Most of it, I thought.
 
Not the Teddie part.
 
“Over Champagne when you are… more casually attired.”

“The anticipation is killing me.”
 
He nuzzled my neck as he held me close, so close our hearts syncopated to the same rhythm.

“Where’s Christophe and Chantal?”
 
Christophe, Jean-Charles’s five-year-old son, had captured my heart.
 
I missed him.
 
Chantal was Jean-Charles’s niece, studying at the Culinary Institute to follow in her uncle’s footsteps.
 
After an interesting start, our relationship had settled into comfortable and warm.

“Desiree is in town, staying at Cielo even though it is not open.”
 
Desiree was his twin sister.
 
He tightened his grip at my unvoiced protest.
 
“They are happy.
 
Chantal is cooking in my kitchen there, and your lovely rooms are finished.
 
They don’t need much.
 
Consider them, how do you say it?
 
Alpha testers.”

“Close.” I chuckled as I eased out of his embrace, stealing a languorous kiss before disengaging completely.
 
“Beta testers.”

“This is it.”
 
He stepped back around the bar, popped the cork, then nestled the bottle in a bucket and started scooping ice around it. “Why don’t you take a shower or whatever you would like to do to relax.
 
I will finish this, then put together a plate of fruit and cheese.
 
It won’t take me long, then I will join you.
 
I have something I must ask you.”

“Really?”
 
I didn’t want to talk about business, not now, but if it was important to him, I would… a little.
 
“Okay.
 
Don’t take too long.”
 
Knowing we were alone in the big house, I started shucking clothes as I padded through the kitchen, dining room, front foyer and through the double doors leading to the master suite.
 
His bedroom was a lovely room with French doors opening on a beautiful backyard anchored by a stunning pool with a rock waterfall, lush vegetation, and a hidden hot tub to one side.
 
Stepping out of my pants, then my bikini briefs, and unwinding from my bra, I reached into the shower and turned the water on high and hot.
 
It jetted out of the walls as well as from a rainfall showerhead above.
 
If there was one thing I loved, it was a great bathroom.
 
And if it came with a sexy, kind man with a French accent, so much the better.

Teddie and I had almost killed ourselves having sex in a shower.

I closed my mind to the memory.

This was different.
 
Jean-Charles was different.
 
I was different.

The soap was whittled to a shred, so I went in search of another bar as the water heated.
 
Humming a tune, I pawed through drawers and cabinets.
 
In the far cabinet, a box lumped under a stack of towels, a corner poking out.
 
I chewed on my lip as I contemplated looking inside or not.

Curiosity won out.

I eased the box out.
 
Small, square, intimidating.

I opened the top and gasped.

A ring.
 
With one large square-cut diamond.
 

TO BE CONTINUED…

Thank you for coming along on Lucky’s wild ride through Vegas.
 
For more fun reads, please visit
www.deborahcoonts.com
or drop me a line at
[email protected]
and let me know what you think.
 
And, please leave a review at the outlet of your choice.