Hazy Grooms and Homicides (A Raina Sun Mystery #8)

by Anne R. Tan

  “It is your civic duty to help the authorities with an investigation,” he said.

  Raina waited until she left the command center before rolling her eyes. During the walk toward the elevator, she reviewed what she had learned. Whoever killed Claire Boucher had to be someone close to the victim. After all, how did the killer maid find out about the laundry room rendezvous?

  7

  Another Engagement

  Raina got as far as the giant slot machine that promised one winner a brand new Mustang when her cell phone buzzed. It was a text message from her grandma.

  SOS. Come up to my room lickety-quick.

  Raina dialed her grandma’s cell phone, but it went straight to voice mail. She stared at her phone, debating if the message was urgent or just Po Po urgent. Sometimes her grandma’s sense of urgency had a way of complicating things.

  She had less than five minutes to get to the convention room where the guitar seminar was held. If she missed this opportunity, she might not be able to track down Brian Anderson again.

  What was her grandma doing in her room in the first place? Po Po’s assignment was to keep an eye on the mark. Her grandma wouldn’t have abandoned her post unless something happened to Maggie. After all, the family came first.

  Raina sighed and turned around. She trotted toward the elevator. Somebody better be bleeding upstairs. If the two ladies were just bickering like children…

  She used the spare key card and opened the door to the grandma suite. Po Po sat on the reading chair, arms folded across her chest, and a frown on her face. Sitting across from her were Maggie and Frank Small on the sofa. All three faces glanced at the door expectantly. Even Poe, the service dog, lifted his head from his position at Maggie’s feet to look at the doorway.

  Raina shifted her gaze from face to face, and a sense of uneasiness settled into her stomach. What was Frank doing here?

  The retired ex-military man was part of her grandma’s Posse Club at the senior center at home. He was still over six feet tall and in good shape thanks to tennis. His dark brown skin contrasted with his white hair. He hunched on the sofa as if trying to make himself as small as possible between the two tiny Chinese women.

  Normally, the three of them were the best of friends and had an easy jovial air about them. Today, all three of them were rigid and sat with enough space between them as if they were strangers. Whatever was happening here, Raina had a feeling she was called in to referee. Great.

  “What’s going on here?” Raina asked. Might as well get this over with.

  Po Po jerked a thumb at the couple on the sofa. “Big and Tiny are getting married. They’re going to have a Las Vegas shotgun wedding.”

  Raina’s jaw dropped. Big and Tiny were Frank’s and Maggie’s code names when the Posse Club was in an active mission. She had thought the two paired off because the ex-military man was looking out for the half-blind lady.

  She never suspected the two of them were romantically involved. And apparently, neither did her grandma. Was there a hint of jealousy in her grandma’s voice? And how would Matthew react to the news?

  Maggie gazed at Raina with a hopeful expression. Her insecurity was written all over her face, and she wanted Raina on her side.

  Frank had a mulish expression on his face. His jaw tightened. He was also waiting for Raina to say something.

  And Po Po was frowning at Raina like she was already a traitor.

  Raina gave all three of them a beaming smile. “Congratulations. I am so happy for the two of you.”

  And she was happy for them. After all, it wasn’t often two people found another chance at a romance, especially in their golden years. She didn’t know why her grandma wasn’t happy with the situation, but this wasn’t the time for a discussion.

  “But I got to go,” Raina said, opening the door again. “I need to catch one of the murder suspects before he takes off.”

  “You’re in another murder investigation again?” Frank asked, brightening up. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Po Po will fill you in. She’s great at organizing everyone. I got to go.” Raina left the suite and closed the door behind her with a sigh of relief. Talk about complications.

  As she trotted toward the elevator, once again, Raina couldn’t help but hear the echo of laughter from her ancestors. Or maybe they were the Louie ancestors. Why did Maggie have to get engaged on Raina’s watch? Couldn’t she have waited until her grandson returned and then announced the news?

  Raina got into the elevator and punched the button for the first floor. Maybe Maggie didn’t wait because she wanted Raina to pave the way before she spoke to Matthew. Geez… another family expectation.

  Matthew should be mature enough to be happy for his grandma, but Raina had a feeling he might react worse than Po Po. Maggie was the only family he had, and now he would have to share her affections.

  And it wouldn’t matter to him that he was about to start a family of his own with Raina. She hoped she was overthinking this, but pigs didn’t fly, and her man was an overprotective bear when it came to his family. He might even be silly enough to think Frank would use his grandma as a nursemaid.

  The guitar seminar was long over by the time Raina made her way to the convention area. The Sunset Room was half empty with attendees coming and going. She scanned the crowd, looking for a bad toupee and sideburns. No dice. If she had hair like Brian Anderson, she would put on a wig too. Since she didn’t know what he looked like in costume, scanning the crowd was no help. She didn’t know him well enough to pick him out quickly with a change to his hair color and style.

  Wait a minute. Brian Anderson lost his name badge. What she should look for was somebody with a handwritten name badge like the one she wore around her neck. She lowered her gaze to chest level, drifting through the crowd and scanning their badges. It was a lucky thing she was obviously female even in costume because staring at everyone’s chest earned her some funny looks.

  There! In the corner was a man with a handwritten badge talking to Willie Machado. The tawny blonde general manager towered over the slight man in her three-inch stiletto pumps. Brian stood behind his guitar case, his hands resting on top of the case as if warding off an attack.

  Raina circled the room, edging closer and closer to Brian and Willie until she sat down behind them in one of the chairs. She pulled out the program from her purse and pretended to study it intently with a pen in her hand.

  Up close, Brian looked nothing like the mob leader confronting Claire two days ago. Without anger burning through his eyes, the pale blue was overshadowed by the red veins.

  “Are you sure we have to tell the attendees about it?” Brian said. He took off his jet-black wig and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

  Willie placed her hand on her hip. She wore a red pantsuit that normally would have made her a beacon in any crowd but was eclipsed by the colors, crystals, and sequins in this one. “Yes, you do. And I also need you to give me a list of people who might want Claire Boucher dead.”

  The gravelly voice sent a shiver down Raina’s back.

  “I can’t do this. It would be hearsay. I didn’t witness anything,” Brian said.

  Raina rolled her eyes. Of course, he couldn’t give her a suspect list. He would be at the top of it. And as the general manager, why would she investigate Claire’s death in the first place? Didn’t she have a business to run?

  Through the doorway, Raina caught sight of a tall man in a white blazer and jeans talking to a uniformed police officer in the hallway. She ducked her head and held the program close to her face. He strolled in and made a beeline for Brian and Willie.

  Raina had been dismissed before she had a chance to speak with Detective Lamar Stafford at the crime scene, but she could recognize him anywhere. He was a few years older than Matthew. His skin was a lighter shade than Frank Small, not exactly café au lait, but more of a brown sugar.

  “Brian Anderson?” Detective Stafford spoke with an accent that was not qu
ite British or Australian. “Detective Lamar Stafford of the LVPD. Can I speak to you for a moment?”

  Raina snuck a glance at the detective, ducked her head again, and circled something on her program. His hazel eyes were too alert for Raina’s comfort. He would want to talk to Matthew after watching the video feed.

  Brian shifted. “What can I help you with, Detective?”

  “Maybe we should go someplace more private. It is about Claire Boucher.”

  “Will this take more than five minutes? I am moderating the panel.” Brian gestured toward the table at the front of the room and the five people sitting behind it.

  “Can we talk afterward?” Detective Stafford asked.

  Brian nodded. “The panel is scheduled for ninety minutes.”

  “I’ll wait for you outside in the hallway. Willie, please pencil me in for this afternoon. Is two o’clock good?”

  Willie nodded, spun on her heels, and marched out of the room.

  Raina resisted the urge to stroke her chin. Interesting. The general manager seemed a little too antagonistic toward Detective Stafford. Was there some history between the two of them?

  “In the meantime, I would like to ask Miss Sun a few questions,” Detective Stafford said.

  Raina froze. How did he know? She snuck a peek up from underneath her lashes to find his hazel eyes looking down at her. Heat rose to her face. So busted.

  She folded the program and tucked it back into her purse. She got up and strode out of the Sunset Room. There was no point in arguing or justifying her snooping. And since Detective Stafford wanted to speak to her, he would follow her out.

  He caught up with her in the hallway by the bench facing the Sunset Room. Before she could sit down for a comfortable chat, he said, “I heard you like iced coffee. Let’s go grab one at the coffee shop.”

  Raina blinked. Was he hitting on her? Or was he intentionally throwing her off, pretending like they were on friendly terms so he could spin circles around her with his questions? Either way, this was most irregular and highly unprofessional. She brushed a strand of hair off her face, making sure that the light caught the ring on her finger.

  Detective Stafford didn’t even glance at her hand.

  So he wasn’t interested in Raina romantically. Interesting. Did he think she might have information that he didn’t have? “Sure.”

  They strode to the café in silence, side-by-side, like they could be old friends who didn’t need to talk to fill the space between them. During this time Raina’s mind raced through a hundred different scenarios. This was new territory for her. Usually, the detectives either told her to stay out of police business, asked her for help, or dismissed her as a nuisance. This was something else entirely.

  Maybe his suggestion to grab a coffee had nothing to do with the case and everything to do with his need for caffeine. After all, he probably stayed up all night reviewing the videos. The hotel-casino must want him to wrap up the investigation as soon as possible. And with this kind of money, they undoubtedly put the squeeze on the police department, and the brown stuff trickled down onto him.

  The café was a Starbucks clone, except for the smoke. The ventilation system wasn’t strong enough to remove the slight haze in the air. Customers dangled a cigarette in one hand while holding on to a disposable coffee cup in the other. Raina cleared her throat, but it didn’t remove the grit from the back of her throat.

  They ordered coffee—his was black, and hers was an iced caramel macchiato—and paid for them separately. They found two black leather reading chairs in a corner. Raina had to sit sideways, so she didn’t have to touch his knees.

  Detective Stafford waited until Raina took a sip of coffee. “Tell me what happened yesterday.”

  Raina took another slow sip of coffee, hoping to buy her some time. Should she mention her concern about Matthew? Maybe she should play it by ear. See how he questioned her and whether he was a good cop.

  She told him about finding Claire in her suite in the morning and talking to Willie. “We went downstairs, hoping to run into the security guy.” This wasn’t exactly a lie. They were supposed to meet with Hendricks to go over the video feed as directed by Willie. Things just got sidetracked by the discovery of the body.

  Detective Stafford frowned. “This is the first time I heard about the victim being in your room. Do you know why she was there?”

  Raina shook her head.

  “Hendricks showed me the video surveillance of the hotel-casino the last twenty-four hours before Claire’s death. I didn’t see her in the hallway outside your suite.”

  “That’s because it is being”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“recorded with the cameras with the blinking red lights. Those are fake.”

  Detective Stafford gave her a doubtful look. “How did you come to this conclusion?”

  Raina explained her theory about the cameras with the blinking red lights and the cameras hidden behind smoky half domes. She pointed at the blinking red light at the back wall. “Fake. If you go ask Hendricks there’s no video footage of the café.”

  He studied the camera for a long moment.

  “With Big Brother watching, you’ll want to be on your best behavior,” she said. “No butt scratching or underwear adjusting.”

  “I learn something new every day,” he said without a hint of sarcasm.

  Detective Stafford hadn’t pulled out a notebook to write down anything she had said. Neither did he pretend to consult a notebook to circle back to a point.

  “Shouldn’t you write something down?” she asked.

  He tapped the side of his head. “It’s all in here. I have a photographic memory. It’s my superpower. Kind of like Sherlock Holmes.”

  She didn’t reply. Or maybe this was a charade like the blinking red lights?

  He sipped his coffee and studied her as if waiting to see if she would babble to fill in the silence.

  She sipped her coffee and returned his stare. Better to keep silent unless he asked a direct question.

  “Where is your fiancé, Miss Sun?” he asked.

  8

  Old Buddies

  Raina choked, and iced coffee squirted out of her nose. She grabbed a napkin and covered the lower half of her face while she continued to cough.

  “Are you okay?” Detective Stafford asked.

  “Wrong pipe,” Raina wheezed.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to give herself a moment to think. From the way Detective Stafford asked the question, he had seen the video of Matthew leaving the laundry room. And he made the same assumption as Hendricks that the man with the baseball cap and beard was her fiancé.

  She couldn’t play the race card again, at least not with a straight face to another minority. If only she could unburden her worries about Matthew to someone. But she couldn’t risk it. Not if it meant potentially compromising her fiancé.

  Raina told him the same lie that she had told Hendricks. “Matthew has to be in one of the hotels. He has a habit of turning off his cell phone when he’s in the middle of his work. He’s very focused. And he believed that our species had survived generations without cell phones attached to their hips, so he’s not planning to start now.” She snapped her mouth shut. She was starting to babble.

  “This doesn’t sound like the Elliot Matthew Louie that I knew back in our old Marine days. He was supposed to look me up when he was in town, but the last time I heard from him was a text message saying he had to disappear for a while,” Detective Stafford said.

  Raina stiffened, and the pleasant smile froze on her face. If Matthew had meant to look up his old buddy, he would have told her.

  Detective Stafford pulled out his cell phone and opened the text app.

  Raina gave the phone a perfunctory glance. There was a message from a “Matthew,” but it might not be her Matthew. Short of tapping on his phone to check the actual number, she still hadn’t seen any proof the two men were old buddies. And old buddies didn’t translate to friends now. B
oy, was she getting cynical or what.

  “So how did you meet Matthew?” Raina asked.

  Detective Stafford spun a tale about meeting in the desert of Afghanistan. Apparently, Matthew had saved his bacon when a pipe bomb went off on them during a routine patrol. The story sounded plausible.

  However, Raina didn’t think Matthew spent time doing routine patrol. He had specialized in geographic information systems, and his unit worked mostly with drones and mapping the data on GIS for strategic deployment.

  When the detective finished his story, Raina asked, “Did he tell you what he was doing in Las Vegas?”

  Detective Stafford shook his head. “He didn’t say. But when I saw your name in the case file, I knew he would want me to check on you, to make sure you and your grandma were okay.”

  The detective was a charming and urbane man, but he was also a liar. And this made Raina question his motive. She didn’t think he was the murderer, but he might have a personal stake in the case. He tried just a little too hard to gain her trust by revealing a friendship with Matthew that was unlikely to exist.

  “It’s a good thing his grandma wasn’t with us. She is a feisty one,” Raina said, testing his knowledge on the Louie family. Maggie Louie was the more docile grandma, but he didn’t know this.

  “I thought she was a typical granny who liked to knit countless scarves. She used to feed me pork buns when I went home with Matthew for the holidays.”

  Ah-ha! Raina finally got the evidence he was a liar. Maggie always spent the holidays with Po Po and her extended family. And Matthew showed up when he was on the same coast. If the detective had visited the Louies for any holiday, he would have shown up at one of these family gatherings. What did he hope to gain by pretending to be a family friend?