Red Roses in Las Vegas (5 page)

We ran into Glenn and Karma in the elevator. Which is to say, the elevator stopped at their floor, and we all decided it would be too tight a fit for six people. So the four of us stepped out and I introduced Nanna to Glenn and Karma.

Glenn is my handsome, octogenarian
friend who lives downstairs. I’d first met him a few months back, when I was running away from a deranged psychopath and took shelter in his condo. He’s the perfect man: gorgeous, friendly, and a retired pastry chef. He’s a bit too old for me, but I’d had high hopes of setting him up with Nanna, until he dashed all my dreams by getting together with Karma, an aging hippie with waist-length grey hair and self-professed “second sight.” Which she was always claiming to use.

As soon as introductions were over, Karma put her hands lightly on either side of my neck and proclaimed, “You are worried. You must accept help.”

When I hesitated more than a few seconds, Glenn turned to me seriously and said, “Is something wrong?”

Normally, I’m quick to laugh at Karma’s pronouncements, but this time I really was worried.

And then it all came tumbling out – how Nanna was in trouble, how I’d witnessed the murder and was still confused by Adam’s last words.

“What could red roses have to do with his death?” I asked. I turned to Karma and added, “You don’t see anything, do you?”

She shook her head. “It could mean anything. I’m sorry.”

I sighed, and Glenn looked at Nanna sympathetically. “I feel awful about this. Tiffany talks about you a lot – I wish we’d met under happier circumstances.”

I smiled to myself as he, Karma and Nanna chatted for a bit. Nanna was dating Nathan, and Glenn seemed pretty happy with Karma, but I couldn’t help hoping that maybe something would happen between Nanna and Glenn in the future. I couldn’t think of a better couple.

***

Just as we’d all settled in with our meals, my mother called.

“How’s your nanna doing?” she asked. “Is she really planning to stay at your place? We can pick her up tonight, if she’s too much trouble. I know you don’t have any food in your fridge.”

Her voice was a little hoarse, as though she’d been crying, and I said, “No, it’s fine. She seems to want to stay here a few days.”

“But what about food?”

“She’s going shopping with Ian.”

“Hmm. What about lunch?”

“We’ll eat out.”

“Ok, well, don’t let her eat anything unhealthy. You know she’s got stiff arteries.”

Nanna was already digging into her fries like she hadn’t eaten in a week. She’d probably had nothing but health food for the last few months, and now I was the Jezebel who’d reintroduced her to this vice. Best not to mention that to my mother. I changed the topic and told her that I’d be looking into Adam Bitzer’s death and that Nanna would be fine. We chatted a bit more and then I hung up, having successfully avoided mentioning McDonald’s.

On the ride to the gun range, Stone and I sat together in companionable silence for a few minutes. We’d just left Paradise Road when Stone said, “So, Ian’s going to be your partner, huh.”

“He only told you about a dozen times.”

“Might not be so bad.”

“It’ll be
terrible
.”

The corners of Stone’s lips went up. “Then why do you put up with him?”

I shrugged. “He’s kind of like an orange-haired puppy. I can’t just kick him to the curb, now that he’s decided to follow me around.”

“Hmm. Well, who knows, he might be helpful sometimes. He kept mentioning how he saved your life, once.”

“Ugh. That was a lucky fluke. Although, I suppose I was glad he was there.”

“Get him to join you in Krav Maga class. Maybe he’ll be more useful, then.”

“Sure. I’ll take him with me next Wednesday.”

I wasn’t going to Krav Maga next Wednesday, but Stone just glanced at me and let the white lie slide. “What’re you going to do about this investigation?”

I looked out the window and watched the palm trees race past us. “I’m not sure yet. I haven’t been able to think straight, with Ian yammering away right next to me. But I guess I should talk to the victim’s family. Although it’d be easier to start with his workplace.”

“How so?”

We were pulling up in front of the range, and I put a hand on my seatbelt. “Jack’s friends with the owner of Verdant Wealth, where Adam used to work.”

Stone looked at me, and I tried to read his dark eyes, but failed.

“And Jack couldn’t think of a better place to take you for the first date,” he said.

“He was teaching me to break in,” I admitted.

Stone looked at me steadily for a few more seconds, and then he said, “Be careful around this guy. He’s already gotten you into trouble once.”

I frowned. “He hasn’t gotten me in trouble.”

“He got lucky, this time. The guy’s bored with his life and he’ll keep trying more and more dangerous things, just for fun. I don’t want you getting dragged into all that.”

“He’s a nice guy. And I like him. Why do you care?”

Stone reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my left ear. “I’m concerned about you and I don’t like Jack.”

Our eyes locked, and I could still feel Stone’s fingertips where they’d brushed against my earlobe.

“Really?” I said softly. “Then who do you think I should be dating?”

Stone turned away and stared straight ahead wordlessly. He reached over to his seatbelt buckle, but I couldn’t just let him leave.

“What makes you such a dating expert?” I asked. “You’re not even dating anyone now, are you?”

He looked at me again, his eyes darker than before. “No, I’m not. Because I actually care about people and wouldn’t want them getting into trouble because of me.”

“Why would people get into trouble because of you?”

“You do my kind of work, people close to you get hurt. That’s just the way it is.”

We stared at each other for a few more seconds, and then he undid his seatbelt and got out of the car. I followed his lead, and we headed over to the gun range counter to pay the fees.

We practiced our shots silently, and on the ride back to The Treasury, we didn’t bother to chat.

I got to The Treasury an hour before my shift started, so I helped myself to the cheap, all-you-can-eat buffet. I stood in a mile-long line with groups of obese tourists who seemed to have come all the way to Vegas just for the inexpensive, plentiful food. I imagined them collecting two-for-one vouchers, trawling the buffets, and trying to get comps for free food and drinks. And, of course, they’d just go back home and complain about how terrible Vegas was and how the food stinks.

As I waited in line, I sent Jack a text. I’d just finished my dinner when he called back.

“I’ve set up the meeting with Clark Morsely for you,” he said. “He’ll tell the staff to co-operate, and he’ll talk to you at 7:30, before he starts work for the day.”

“That’s great!” I said. “I know it was really short notice, and he’s a busy CEO and all. I was expecting maybe he’d see me sometime next week.”

“I did him a favor, once,” Jack said, “So now he owes me. Verdant Wealth might not be around if I hadn’t helped out.”

“Well, thanks, I really appreciate it.”

We were silent for a few seconds, and then Jack said, “I know our date went really badly, but maybe we could have a do-over?”

I smiled. “I think I’d like that.”

“Would you like to come round to The Tremonte for drinks after your shift ends? Or we could somewhere else, if you’d like”

My heart sank. “Uh, thanks. But I’ll probably be too tired by then.”

“Oh.” He sounded a little surprised by my sudden rejection. “I’ll see you later?”

“Sure.”

We hung up, and I changed and headed over to start my shift, knowing very well that I was using “tiredness” as a lame excuse.

As I tapped out the previous dealer and clapped my hands out behind a blackjack table, I thought about my relationship with Jack.

I’ve always known that Jack was a mega-millionaire casino owner, and till today, it hadn’t really bothered me. But he was part
owner
of The Tremonte, next door, and here I was, just a lowly dealer at The Treasury. It was the stuff of fairytales and Cinderella stories, except Cinderalla never had to worry about her prince finding someone more “appropriate.” And Jack certainly had many “appropriate” women fawning over him – models and starlets beside whom I was just a slightly chubby, slightly clueless casino dealer.

I really liked Jack – I had from the very first, strange moment that we’d met. But I realized, as though for the first time, that his wealth put him solidly out of my league. Sure, he might be interested in me for a bit, but pretty soon he’d understand that I was all wrong for him, and
that would be the end of us. He would move on to some gorgeous, Amazonian beauty, and I’d be stuck with my same-old, same-old life.

I reminded myself that I didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in self-pity, and turned my thoughts to tomorrow morning’s appointment instead. I needed to plan out what I’d ask Clark Morsely and his employees. With any luck, I’d be able to find out something – anything – that could get Nanna off the hook.

Nanna was fast asleep when I got home, sprawled out on my bed. I’d been half-expecting her to be down at one of the casinos, playing poker against unsuspecting tourists, but I supposed she was more worried than she let on.

I slept fitfully for a few hours, huddled on my sofa, until the clanging of pots and the smell of something cooking
roused me.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Nanna said when I groggily pulled myself upright. “I just wanted you to enjoy some healthy breakfast for once. Not cupcakes and instant coffee.”

“Cupcakes are healthy.”

“Not as healthy as this.”

“It smells nice. What is it?”

“Zucchini, carrot and cheese muffins. They should be done in about ten minutes. How was your shift?”

“Ok.” I yawned and looked at the clock. It was just past 6.30, and then I suddenly remembered and jerked my eyes wide open. “Shit. I’ve got an appointment at 7.30. I’ll need to set out in forty-five minutes.”

“Well, you’ve still got time to eat. Where are you going?”

“Verdant Wealth. I’ve got an appointment with the CEO. Hopefully I’ll find something.”

Nanna and I stared at each other, and she nodded. “I’m sure you will.”

I wasn’t quite so confident, but I showered, dressed carefully, and devoured two of the zucchini-carrot-cheese muffins. They weren’t as good as cupcakes, but they were still pretty yummy, and Nanna assured me that they were full of good vitamins and minerals and proteins. Much more so than cupcakes.

“Speaking of cupcakes,” I said, grabbing my big tote bag, “We should call in on Glenn. I’m sure he’s up by now, and I need to drop off some chocolate blocks.”

Well, actually, I didn’t
need
to drop off the chocolate blocks. The blocks were cooking chocolate that I’d bought by mistake, thinking they were regular, edible chocolate. I’d been mentally debating trying to eat them raw vs trying to mix them with milk and flour, and microwave the whole thing into something edible.

But now that Nanna was here, I needed an excuse to drop her off at Glenn’s, in the hope that something might transpire between them. Despite the existence of Karma and Nathan, I was keeping my meddling fingers crossed for Nanna and Glenn.

We were waiting for elevator, when the doors slid open and Ian stepped out with a rolled-up newspaper under his arm.

“Hey!” he said. “What’re you guys doing up so early?”

He looked at me eagerly and I frowned, wondering how he was so alert, so early in the morning.

“Tiffany’s going to talk to the CEO of Verdant Wealth,” Nanna said. “And she’s taking me to her friend Glenn, on the way out.”

“Cool!” Ian said. “I’ll come with.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Come on, I can help out with the investigation.”

“Let him go with you,” Nanna said. “You never know when he’ll be useful.”

I sighed. Nanna had a point – maybe two heads would be better than one, even when that second head was Ian’s. And come to think of it, I wanted to pull out all the stops when investigating this case, and that meant not having to worry about expenses. If Ian was my “partner” on this one, he could do the funding.

“Fine,” I said. “But you’re paying for expenses.”

Ian beamed. “It’s a deal, pardner.”

I rolled my eyes, but let him shake my hand solemnly as the elevator went down.

Ian, Nanna and I stopped by Glenn’s place, where we dropped off the blocks of cooking chocolate. Ian and I immediately raced out, leaving Nanna in our wake. We managed to make it to the Verdant Wealth offices just a little after 7.30, and I glanced around as we went up to their section of the building. It looked different in the bright light of the day – it was still too early to be bustling with people, but a few early-birds were arriving, looking all officious with their work clothes and confident strides.

The doors marking the entry to Verdant Wealth Solutions slid open when we got there. The place was brightly lit, with some of the blinds pulled up, and there was a fresh vase of flowers on the receptionist’s desk. The open-space work area was still empty, and there was no receptionist waiting behind the fresh flowers.

Ian and I took a few tentative strides forward. When I got to the branching-off corridor, I glanced to my right, and noticed that only one of the doors was wide open. It was beginning to feel a bit like the night Jack and I broke in, and I didn’t want a repeat of those events, so I called out, “Helloo-o?”

I heard papers being pushed aside, and a fat, jolly-looking man walked out of the door. He had thick grey hair that framed his face messily, and a puffy face.

“You must be Tiffany,” he said, walking towards me, and Ian and I stepped forward to shake hands. “I’m Clark.”

“Tiffany,” I said. “And this is my friend, Ian.”

“Partner,” said Ian, shaking Clark’s hand. “We’re co-detectives.”

Clark glanced at me, and I smiled thinly. This was probably how commitment-phobic guys felt when they were introduced as someone’s boyfriend.

Thankfully, Clark let the comment slide, and I told him how much I appreciated his making time to talk to us.

He brushed away my gratitude. “Anything for a friend of Jack’s,” he said, turning around and leading us to his office. “Just let me know what I can do to help.”

Clark’s office was set in a corner, with windows along both sides, but the only view he had was that of Sunset Road and part of the wide, open grounds of McCarran Airport. The floors had thin, industrial-grey carpeting, and in addition to his large desk with its two visitors’ chairs, there was another round table in the corner, with six chairs grouped around it. A low sofa clung to one wall, and a potted palm stood alone in different corner. The walls were bare – no artwork, no photos, no framed diplomas.

I was a bit surprised at the lack of artwork. Clark had blue-grey eyes that glinted with what I assumed was a sense of humor, and I’d expected framed prints on his wall, saying things like, “Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we diet,” but I suppose he wanted to keep things serious at work.

We sat down opposite him, and Clark said, “This business with Adam. Pretty nasty. I don’t really believe an old grandma could pull it off.”

“Why not?” I asked. Maybe the guy was being polite, but I needed ammo, just in case we had to go to trial.

“For one thing, how’d she get away? Jack and you were there, and I don’t think an old lady could run away that fast.”

I nodded. “You’re right, but I don’t know if a jury will believe that. Some old ladies move pretty quickly – have you seen them rush into the stores when Metamucil’s on sale?”

Clark laughed, a loud, booming laugh and said, “Well, now that you mention it – my mom can move pretty fast to get the cookies out of my way.”

“How terrible.”

We shared a sympathetic smile, and Ian said, “Tiffany, why are you wasting this man’s time?” He turned to Clark and said, “Tell us about Adam. Did he have any enemies?”

That should’ve been my line.

Clark shook his head. “Nope.”

“Let’s start at the beginning,” I said. “What kind of work does your company do? What did Adam do?”

“We’re a financial advisory service,” Clark said, glancing from Ian to me. “We tell clients what to do with their money, and most of the time we’ll make the investments for them, if it’s a vehicle like hedge funds or ETFs. We’ve also got a couple of traders on board – Adam was one of them – so if a client wants more hands-on management than investing in some other firm or ETF, we can do that. We can customize their strategies.”

“Right. So Adam was a trader.”

“Yes. He was meant to do long-term, buy-and-hold stuff, although I’ve heard that he did some short-term trades as well.”

“What does that mean?” Ian asked.

“What was his day-to-day like?” I added.

“Well.” Clark rubbed his forehead, glanced at his computer screen and clicked his mouse. “I’m just going through some emails while we talk,” he explained to me, and then turned and scrolled through his screen as he talked. “Right. Adam. Well, he did a bit of trading, and most of his day was spent on researching what to buy or sell. The actual trading – just a few clicks of the button, it’s all done virtually now – didn’t take him very long.”

“Did he meet clients?” I asked. “Or people working where he’d invest?”

“Um, once in a while.” I watched Clark read something on the screen and clicked his mouse a couple of times before he looked at me again. “He was having a hard time managing it all. The clients usually went through an advisor first, and they only spent a few minutes with him, detailing what they wanted. He’d meet some company people once in a while, but mostly, we’ve got another guy who does that kind of info-gathering.”

“Right.” I thought about it, and watched Ian out of the corner of my eye. He opened his mouth to say something, and I gave him a subtle kick and a warning look. I didn’t want him going off on a tangent right now.

“So what kind of people did Adam meet at work?” I asked. “Doesn’t seem like very many.”

“No,” Clark shook his head, still reading something. I wondered if he’d come to the office early because of me, or if he just came to the office early every day. For a brief second, I wondered if he’d killed Adam – as the CEO, he’d have easy access to the building. “Adam met a handful of people each week, and usually it wasn’t for very long.”

“What about Nanna?” asked Ian. “Did she have an advisor here?”

“I went through Gwendolyn’s files here,” Clark said, looking at me seriously. “Once in a while we get clients referred directly to someone, and your nanna was one of them. She dealt exclusively with Adam.”

“So if anything went wrong, she’d only blame Adam.” Clark nodded and I said, “Did Adam lose anyone else’s money?”

“A fair few. But most of our clients have higher net wealth and Clark only invests a portion of their funds. None of them suffered huge losses like your nanna, and she only lost that because she asked for an ‘extremely aggressive’ strategy. It means high risk; it might pay out, but there’s a big, big risk of losing most of the money.”

“So it wasn’t Adam’s fault he lost the money?”

Clark sighed and shook his head. “I’m not saying that. Adam wasn’t performing very well and your nanna should’ve gotten a couple of warning letters each time Adam lost a bit of her funds. That way she wouldn’t have had the shock of losing 90% all at once.”

“What’s the average fund size Adam dealt with?” Ian asked, and Clark turned his attention to him.

“Between fifty and two hundred k,” Clark said.

“So Nanna’s money was peanuts to him.”

“It all adds up,” Clark said politely.

“What kind of funds do your other people manage?” Ian asked.

Clark smiled thinly. “A bit larger than that.”

“So why was Adam managing less?” Ian asked.

Clark glanced from me to Ian. “I don’t see how it’s relevant to the investigation.”

I needed the man’s help to get his employees to co-operate with me, so I didn’t want to push the matter, but Ian said, “Oh, come on, tell us. Now I’m curious.”

“Well.” Clark sighed and crossed his arms. “We haven’t told the cops this, since it’s not really something they needed to know. But Adam wasn’t doing too well. He was skipping admin tasks – like those letters he should’ve sent your nanna, warning her about the lost funds. His trading wasn’t going too well; he lost his touch a few years back, but we kept him on because hey, the whole market’s doing badly, so maybe it wasn’t all his fault. But we cut back his account limits.”

I frowned. “He must’ve been frustrated with work.”

Clark shrugged. “Look, I was treating him fairly. I didn’t fire him, and I don’t think he would’ve gotten much of a job somewhere else, with that track record.”

“Besides,” Ian told me, “If he hated it here, he would’ve just quit. Right?” he asked Clark.

Clark nodded. “Right.”

“If you were giving him smaller accounts,” I said, “You must’ve also been giving him less pay.”

“That’s how it works,” Clark said.

“How much does a trader here earn?”

Clark shrugged. “It depends, based on how much they bring in. Adam’s most recent trades hadn’t gone so well, so wasn’t making more than about 60k in the last year or so.”

“Who could’ve been coming here to meet Adam after midnight?” I asked, and Clark shrugged.

“It wouldn’t be a client, because then he’d bill us. I’d say it’s something personal – maybe a girlfriend or something. Although he already had a girlfriend. So maybe he was cheating on her in here.”

He made a face to show just what he thought of
that
idea, and I said, “Did Adam work late often?”

“Definitely not till midnight, ever,” said Clark. “He usually left by five-thirty, and he rarely stayed after six.”

“Did he have bad relationships with any other clients?” Ian asked. “Did anyone else call him up and yell at him?”

I could see Clark bite back a smile as he shook his head. “I’m afraid not. He lost some money, but nobody else yelled at him.”

I sighed. That had been a good try.

“Did he seem any different in the days before he was killed?” I asked. “Worried, or stressed, or unusually happy?”

Clark shook his head. “No. Not that I noticed. Of course, I’m often not here in this office, and my time’s tied up in meetings a lot. But he didn’t seem different.”

“He must’ve hated his co-workers,” Ian said. “Seeing how they got more money and bigger accounts than him.”

Clark shook his head. “There’s not much back-biting in this office. Not that I know of, of course.” He looked at me apologetically and explained, “Maybe they hide the backbiting from the CEO. But Clark seemed like a pretty laid-back kinda guy, got on ok with his co-workers. Even when we reduced his pay and his accounts, he didn’t kick up a big fuss or anything. ’Course, we were just doing what’s fair.”

“Who’s we?” I asked. “Who owns this company?”

“Myself, and a few small investors.”

Clark told us a bit about the structure of his company, and it seemed fairly standard to me – a CFO, a couple of admin people, and couple dozen folks in different positions of varying importance.

“I have a favor to ask,” I said. “Could you maybe send your employees an email letting them know I’ll be talking to them?”

Clark smiled. “Done. Did that first thing, when I came in this morning. One of them probably has his girlfriend’s details too, so you can talk to her.”

“Right.” I nodded. “Who would you say were his closest friends here?”

“Well there’s Sharon,” said Clark. “She’s an accountant here. And I’ve seen him chatting with Noel, Susan and Greg – we’re all pretty friendly here.”

“What about the alarms?” Ian said. We all looked at him in confusion, and he said, “The alarm that Adam pressed that night. What’s up with that?”

I smiled. Ian wasn’t as dumb as I thought he was – but then again, I suppose he must’ve had
some
smarts to have invested in a company that had a big IPO.

“We take security measures seriously here,” said Clark.

“Why?” asked Ian. “It’s not like a bank, you don’t keep massive amounts of cash on the premises.”

I watched as Clark looked studiously blank.

Ian said, “You do some money laundering, don’t you?”

Clark smiled and shook his head. “I’ll tell you what we told the cops. You can never be too careful in this town.”

“I don’t believe you,” Ian said. “I think you keep lots of cash in your office.”

Clark’s smile grew frosty, and I kicked Ian under the table.

“Ow!” he said, turning to me. “What’d you do that for?”

“Ignore Ian,” I told Clark. “He’s been watching too many Mafia movies.”

Clark laughed politely, and I frowned at Ian, trying to get the message across. The man might be the biggest money launderer in Vegas, for all I knew, but I needed his help.

Voices drifted over to us. The office was starting to fill with employees, and Clark used this chance to stand up. “It was a pleasure chatting with you,” he said, and Ian and I followed his lead and stood up.

We followed him out into the open-space area and turned right into a tiny kitchenette with a shiny plastic table, surrounded by cheap plastic chairs. There was a pod coffee machine on one end of the counter, a microwave, a big plastic water cooler and a small fridge. It reminded me a little of a smaller version of the employees’ break room at the Treasury.