Red Roses in Las Vegas (12 page)

My phone pinged with a text while I was on the road, and as soon as I’d parked, I checked it. It was Nanna, asking where I was. I texted back, “Hiding from u & Nathan,” and looked around the car park.

There were already a dozen or so cars here, and I wondered what kind of jobs these people had that they needed to come in so early. I presumed they were mostly people with bad marriages who were hiding from their spouses.

For the umpteenth time in one week, I went up to the offices of Verdant Wealth Solutions.

The sliding doors were unlocked, and only one person – a young woman with French-braided hair – was sitting in the open-plan office area, typing away busily on her computer. Voices drifted out from the communal kitchen, interspersed with happy laughter, and I headed that way.

Greg was standing there, along with three of his co-workers, and they were all doubling over with laughter at something. The laughter stopped when they saw me, and a middle-aged woman with cappuccino-colored skin and glamorous, wavy hair said, “It’s nice to see you again.”

She didn’t seem all that pleased to see me, really, and her tone was more inquisitive than polite or happy.

“You too,” I said to her, wishing I was better with names. “I really appreciate that you all helped out with our investigations the other day.” Greg was looking studiously away from me, eying his coffee like it might start bubbling over with hot lava any minute now. “Greg, could we have a word in private, please?”

The other three Verdant Wealth employees glanced at Greg and then at each other, and Greg smiled at me politely. “Of course. Anything I can help with.”

As we walked towards one of the tiny conference rooms, I said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the memorial service here, yesterday. I heard it was nice.”

“Yeah,” Greg said. “It was pretty well done.”

We were in the conference room now, and I closed the door and looked at Greg. I could see the doubt in his eyes, and I said, “Did you do anything fun last night?”

He stared down at the small conference table and sighed. “You know.”

“Of course I know,” I said, anger starting to bubble up inside me again. I could feel myself wasting time, could just about hear the clock ticking away, but this interview had to be done. “What happened?”

He looked at me and shrugged. “It was just one of those things, you know. We got talking afterwards, she said how Adam worked late, I said, no he never did, she got it in her head that he’d been cheating on her and then I told her he’d been an idiot. And then one thing led to another.”

He smiled, the memory of the previous night making his eyes glow with happiness and pride. So far, Adam’s death seemed to have worked out well for everyone other than Nanna.

“Had you ever met her before this?”

He shook his head. “No, you asked me before. She never really came to office things, and I didn’t know Adam socially, so…”

“Where were you on Friday night at around midnight?”

He looked at me in surprise. “So now just sleeping with someone makes a guy a suspect?”

I shrugged, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. “Everyone’s a suspect.”

He rolled his eyes. “For what it’s worth, I was at Smith’s Pub with a bunch of my friends. You can ask them. Or the guys at the pub.”

“I will,” I said crossly, knowing that he was telling the truth. “Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything at all?”

Greg looked at me sympathetically. “I’m afraid not.”

“Did Cynthia tell you anything interesting? About Adam, I mean,” I added quickly; I didn’t want to hear about her pillow talk.

He shook his head. “No, we didn’t really talk about Adam.” I looked at him, trying to think of anything else to say, and he said, “Look, actually, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else about this.”

“Who would I tell?” He shrugged, and I said, “You don’t have a girlfriend, do you? Oh no, wait, you’re married.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m none of those. It’s just… it seems a bit – you know,
tacky
, getting with her after the memorial service.”

I snorted. “Yeah, you got that right.” I was about to leave, when curiosity struck and I said, “Are you going to see her again?”

Greg looked off to the right and shrugged modestly. “I don’t know. I mean, she seems nice and all, but – I don’t know.”

I nodded and left. Cynthia might still wind up going out with Ian, but that was the least of my concerns, right now.

All of a sudden, there were a bunch of loose ends around Adam’s death – there were at least six women who’d been paying him money every month, and I needed to chase down all these leads. With my luck, they’d probably lead to nothing, but still…

I barely escaped the peak hour traffic and made it back to my condo without wishing death and destruction upon all the other drivers on the road. All I wanted to do was to grab a few hours’ sleep, and then maybe get a coffee, and maybe some breakfast, or lunch, depending on when I woke up. I had completely forgotten about the plans I’d made earlier.

“Where’ve you been?” Nanna asked, the instant I walked in through my door. “I was worried you’d forgotten all about our plans.”

I dropped my bag down onto the floor and stared at her blankly. “What plans?”

She groaned disapprovingly. “Steven Machhione’s coming over at ten.” I continued to look at her blankly. “You know, Steven? My friend who’s worked with the, you know,” – two furious head jerks – “as an enforcer for a bit?”

It was my turn to groan and Nanna said, “You told me you wanted to meet with him.”

I plopped down onto the couch and let my head sink into my hands. “I did say that. But why did I say ten?”

“You didn’t,” said Nanna. “You said you’d make time whenever, and then Steven said ten worked best for him. You need to go improve your memory. Maybe do some Sudoku, or something, in your free time.”

I glared at her weakly, unable to summon up much enthusiasm for the day that loomed out before me like a long stretch of harsh summer.

“You should get some sleep,” Nanna told me. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks.”

I continued sitting right where I was, my brain unable to process what I should do next.

Nanna tugged at my arm weekly. “Come on. Get to bed, and I’ll wake you up in an hour and a half. That way you’ll have time to shower and eat something before Steven comes over.”

I got up mutely, headed over to my bed, and crashed down hard into a dream-free slumber.

True to her word, Nanna woke me up in an hour and a half. “Why are you yelling?” I asked her, sitting up in bed and feeling grumpy with the world. “You could’ve just called me softly.”

“I did that. I called softly and then I nudged you and poked you and yelled a little and then I had to yell loudly. I was just about to try throwing water on you.”

“I had no idea you could yell so loud.”

“I have lots of skills,” I heard Nanna say, as I stumbled into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, I’d showered, drunk a mug of instant coffee and finished most of the mushroom and cheese omelet Nanna had made me. I felt like I could be coherent for a little while, and said, “What’re your plans for today?”

“Well, I’m going to brunch with Karma and Glenn now.”

“Really? You’re not going to be here to talk with Steven?”

She shook her head. “No, I already made plans with those two.”

“Aren’t they great?” I said slowly. “Glenn seems like a nice guy, right?”

Nanna raised one eyebrow. “Are you trying to set me up? You know Glenn’s dating Karma. And I like her.”

I made an exaggerated jaw-dropping motion. “How can you like her? She’s nuts.”

Nanna shrugged. “She’s fun. When you get to my age, you appreciate the crazies.”

“Yeah, well. At least they’re semi-appropriate for each other.”

“Unlike me and Nathan?”

“Yes,” I said with a sigh, “Unlike you and Nathan.”

Nanna shook her head. “I’ve had a whole lifetime of being with appropriate men. Maybe it’s time I had some fun. Like you and that Jack boy – how come we haven’t seen more of him?”

I frowned at her. “I’m a little busy, you know. What with you being accused for murder and all.”

Nanna made a “pshaw!” gesture, and I felt a heaviness in the pit of my stomach. I hadn’t told her yet that the trial had been moved up, and I was sure the news would come in any moment. Her lawyer would probably call my parents’ house, and of course my mother would have a fit. I didn’t want to be there to witness it.

As if she’d read my mind, Nanna said, “And we’re going over to your parents’ for lunch today. Or did you forget that, too?”

I stared at her and swallowed.

Nanna made a tut-tutting noise and said something about brain training games that I didn’t quite hear.

“Anyway,” she said, “I should go down to Karma’s. It’s almost ten, you know.”

I watched her leave, and made myself another mug of coffee.

***

The doorbell rang at a quarter past ten, and I opened it to see a chubby man about one inch taller than me. He had a round, pink-cheeked face and tufts of white hair that framed his large bald spot. Even though he was probably over seventy, he was pretty well-dressed, in a sky-blue polo shirt and tan Dockers.

“You must be Tiffany,” he said, holding out his hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

We shook hands and I invited him in, thanking him for his time. “Can I get you anything to drink?” I asked. “I’ve got water, tea, coffee, Coke, and beer.”

“I’ll have a beer,” he said as he settled down on my sofa and caught my amused look. “What’s the point of being retired if you can’t have a drink whenever you want?”

I shook my head mentally, feeling like a bit of a buzz kill, and handed him his drink.

“I really appreciate your talking to me,” I said again, pulling up a chair opposite the sofa and taking a sip of my coffee.

“Anything for Gwenda,” he said. “It sure is stupid how the kids these days don’t even have no common sense. Back in my day…”

He let his voice trail off and I knew what he was thinking. Back in his day, the Mob ruled the city, and everything was so much better. He had the rosy-colored glasses that old folks often wore when they looked back at the past, and I knew better than to interrupt.

“So do you know anything about this murder?” I asked, after I’d given him enough time to ponder on how much better the past was. “Adam Bitzer.”

“Yeah,” he said, “That’s a funny one. I’ve asked around, and I’m sorry to say, nobody knows anything.”

“Are you sure?” I asked tentatively. “Maybe they’re keeping things from you.”

He chuckled gruffly, refusing to take offence. “These young kids, at least some of ‘em, respect you, huh? I asked my fellas and I asked my guys down at the station. Nobody knows nothin’.”

I nodded. “How long have you been living in Vegas for?”

He looked at me in surprise. “Been a while since someone asked me that, you know.” He smiled. “Close to fifty years now, can you believe it? Came down when I was a young stallion, and now look at me.”

“You must like living here,” I said quickly, trying to keep the conversation from getting melancholy.

“Sure.” Steven shrugged. “Beats livin’ out in the middle of nowhere, and sure beats being dead.” He laughed at his own joke and said, “Yeah, but I travel east now and then, just to see folks back there. Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said. “I was just wondering, how you like it here and… that kind of stuff.”

“You know what,” he said, leaning forward, and pointing one chubby finger at me. “You’ll make a hell of a great detective. You know why? Cause you’re curious about people, that’s why. Folks these days, they don’t got no curiosity left. Specially young kids like you, always with their smartphones and their iPads and the computahs… But not you. You’re gonna be good, and Gwenda’s lucky she’s got you helping out.”

I felt my face grow warm and stared down at the carpet. “Ah, thanks,” I said uncomfortably, and wondered if he’d had a drink or two before coming down to my place. His words were just the confidence injection that I needed right then, and I said, “They’re moving the trial up.”

“Huh?” He looked at me in surprise.

“The murder trial. They’re starting in a fortnight. I haven’t told Nanna yet, but I think her lawyer’ll call her today.”

Steven leaned back against the sofa and took another sip of his beer. “Well, that’s no good,” he said finally.

“No,” I agreed. “So, I guess I should ask you again – did you hear anything at all about the murder? Anything from the cops, or from your own… sources?”

“Yeah, sure.” Steven repeated everything that Emily and Stone had told me about the LVMPD investigation so far, and I tried not to wonder at his “source” in the department who told him everything in such details. All that Steven told me matched up perfectly against what Emily and Stone had told me, and I nodded silently.

“Thanks,” I said when he’d finished. “But do you know anything else?”

He shook his head, no, and I sighed. “I’m not getting anywhere with this investigation.”

“You will, soon,” he said, as though he could will it into happening.

“Do you know anything about Verdant Wealth?” I asked. “My friend thinks they might be doing some Mob work.”

A sly expression slid over Steven’s face, and he nodded. “Yeah.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Really? I had no idea, I didn’t think…” I stared at him and finally said, “How’re they connected?”

“Accounts. Verdant does some accounting for the boys.”

“Right.” I nodded furiously. “And did Adam Bitzer know that?”

“Naw. No-one there knew, ’cept for the one accounts guy and the owner of the place, Clark something.”

“Right.” I continued nodding. “Is there
any
way at all that Adam might’ve found out?” Steven shook his head. “But what if he had? Maybe he’d discovered something he shouldn’t have known?”

“There’s no way,” Steven said. “No way Adam would find out. These things are taken seriously.”

“Right. Seriously enough to kill for?”

Steven laughed shortly. “Nah, these boys had nothing to do with his death. You think I didn’t look into that? Was the first thing that came into my mind, and no way would I let Gwenda take the fall, if that was the case. But it’s not.”

He leaned back against the sofa again, and I looked at him thoughtfully. Strangely enough, I trusted him, and I trusted his ability to ferret out information. And I even trusted him when he said that he’d never let Nanna take the fall.

I sighed, and got up to throw away the rest of my coffee. It didn’t taste so good now that it was a little cold. I’d seen a big, fat mirage of hope when Steven had said that Mob had some dealings with Verdant Wealth, and now I felt like that mirage had returned back into its real form as hot, useless desert sand.

“I’m sorry about your nanna,” Steven said, watching me closely. “But I guess there’s not much we can do at this stage. We’ve got a good lawyer, though, if that’ll help.”

“Yeah, it might. What’s his name? Or hers?”

“Jerry Sabatino. The best. Here in Vegas, at least.”

“Thanks.” I let out a soft a sigh. “I’ll keep him in mind.”

“Least I could do,” said Steven, hoisting himself off the sofa. “Hope it doesn’t come to that, though.”

“Yeah, me too.”