by Amy Atwell
“Oh, cuz, you know, he had a sexy voice, and now you’re agitated, and it sounds like maybe you’re seeing him later—”
The problem with having a psych major as a sales assistant was that Iris got free analysis when she least wanted it. “It’s not what you think. He’s…my cousin.” Great, another lie. First her security company, now her staff.
Ginny smirked. “Nice try. Cousins are never that sexy.”
On any other day, Ginny’s teasing would be sweet. Today, it grated on every one of Iris’s exposed nerves. “Maybe it’s best if you pay more attention to the store and less to my personal life.”
Ginny’s smile disintegrated. “Sorry, Iris, you’re right. It’s not my place. It’s just you’ve got this fairy-tale image of your life, and I’d hate to see you disappointed.” Before Iris could reply, the co-ed slipped out the door again.
Fairy-tale image of her life? She almost called the younger woman back to set her straight. Iris held no illusions of what her life was, though she did her best to pass it off as normal. What was so wrong about that?
She stood to stretch her shoulders and back, but the uncomfortable feeling dogging her was less physical and more a general uneasiness. Here she thought she’d conquered that when she declared her independence from Cosmo. Except there was no escaping her father’s shenanigans, no matter how hard she tried.
Her gaze roamed the workroom. She’d come in early to check every drawer, every case in the whole store. Nothing was missing. Why had Cosmo come here last night? The cash was all accounted for and every bit of metal and stone waited precisely where she’d left it. Had he needed a place to hide? Had he done something awful? Could that detective be right—had Cosmo killed someone last night?
No, she wouldn’t believe it. Cosmo might have been a disappointing father, but he wasn’t a killer. A double-talking, double-crossing man of tricks and schemes, Cosmo always played his greatest advantage—he believed both sides of any story, so you could never convince him he wasn’t telling the truth no matter what he said. He was like a little kid, completely disingenuous. Iris had always suspected that’s what her mother loved about him.
But the same little-kid lack of responsibility made it all the more probable that Cosmo had fathered other children without guilt. Iris had no doubts that if her mother had discovered his infidelity, Cosmo would have talked his way back into her good graces again. He lived his life like an alley cat anyway, disappearing for long periods—traveling with the magic act, so he claimed—and Mom had let him come and go without question.
Iris had left her own questions unasked, though she’d had plenty of them. By the time she was thirteen, it was obvious her father had more important things in his life than her and her mother. Iris had always steered clear of his magic act, his gambling friends, anything she felt might be competing with her for his attention. Instead, she spent her time with her mother at this shop, learning the art of crafting high-end costume jewelry. While Iris didn’t deal in diamonds, emeralds or rubies, her pieces sold for hundreds, sometimes thousands, of dollars.
And it was hers. When Mom died, Iris had inherited Lying Eyes. Cosmo had no claim on the store, the jewelry, or on her anymore. So what did it matter if he’d fathered two other girls?
It didn’t matter at all.
Chapter Three
“Miss Fortune, the casino manager wants to speak with you.”
Corazon had never cared for the voice of authority, maybe because it had never spoken in her favor. Or maybe it was the way the pit boss, Mr. Shank, always leered at her when he addressed her by her formal name. Like it or not, one always responded to orders.
She knocked the three card poker table twice then spread her fingers wide, palms up, for the security camera before giving way to the replacement dealer. Once clear of the tables, she tried to smooth her heavy curls back from her face. She shouldn’t have had that gyro for lunch. Her mints were in her locker, but Mr. Shank didn’t look like he’d let her make a pit stop.
He escorted her off the casino floor, down a fluorescent-lit employee hallway to the management offices. She shouldn’t feel nervous—she’d done nothing wrong. In fact, maybe she was worrying for nothing. Maybe she was finally up for a promotion. She’d dreamed of becoming Shank’s equal since she first came to the Venetian a year and a half ago.
But one step inside Mr. Leighton’s office put an end to all those dreams of advancement.
“Here’s Cory,” Mr. Leighton said with a smile that even she could tell was pasted on his face. He motioned to another suited man, mature, earnest looking—a plainclothes cop, as clear as day. “Cory, this is Detective Hunter with the LVMPD. He’d like to ask you a few questions.”
She nodded, wondering what the hell she’d done wrong. To her surprise, Mr. Leighton shepherded Shank from the office, leaving her alone with Hunter.
He stood taller than her, with a lean build for a man of…she guessed him at forty years. Lines crinkled the edges of his eyes and lips, and furrows seemed to be permanently creased in his forehead. He didn’t look like a sun-worshipper, so she figured him for a worrier. His hairline had made a small retreat, but there was still plenty of it, dark and curling slightly at the ends. His clean-shaven jaw had a nice angle to it, his nose a little oversized, and his green eyes were tinged with sorrow, as though he’d witnessed way too much tragedy in his job.
It occurred to her that if she’d committed some work-related offense, the Nevada Gaming Control Board would be here, not the local police. And they wouldn’t have the look of apology this guy had on his face. Perspiration tickled her upper lip, but she refrained from swiping at it, just as she bit back the concerned questions that flooded her mind.
The detective motioned to a chair and popped a Tums while she seated herself. “Miss Fortune, I need to ask you some questions about your father.”
“Papa?” She gripped the arm of the chair and turned to look at Hunter. “Is he all right?”
“He’s missing. When did you see him last?”
She answered without hesitation. “Two days ago. We had breakfast here at the buffet after I got off work.”
“What time was that?” He pulled a notepad from his inner jacket pocket and started to scribble notes.
“About six in the morning. He’d just flown back from St. Petersburg the night before.”
“Russia?”
Cory blinked at such a ridiculous notion. “No, Florida. He’s been working on some gig with the Ringling Circus Museum in Sarasota. What do you mean he’s missing?”
“What kind of work?” Hunter asked, staring intently at her. Whether he didn’t understand or didn’t believe her, she wasn’t sure.
She didn’t like that he’d avoided her question. “I don’t know, something to do with his magic act.”
He glanced up. “You sound like you don’t approve.”
Cory hesitated. It wasn’t that she didn’t approve, she just didn’t understand Papa’s passion for magic. “All the years I was growing up, Papa traveled a lot. I guess I blamed it on his magic act.”
He seemed to accept that without needing further explanation. “We found a man shot dead in your father’s car last night. Do you know anything about that?”
She stumbled to her feet. “Papa wouldn’t kill someone, not anyone. He’s not that kind of man.”
“What kind of man is he?” Hunter asked quietly.
“Papa’s the most honest, God-fearing man I know. He cares about people, always wants to help. He could no more kill a man than he would lie, cheat or steal.” People could say what they wanted about her, but she wasn’t about to sit idly by while someone, even a cop, slandered her father.
The detective blinked at her. “Do you have any idea where he might have gone after his show last night? Any friends, any women he might have gone to see?”
Women? Oh, God… She shook her head, worry pulling her lips into a frown even as she gnawed on a red thumbnail. “No, unless…”
“Unl
ess?”
“Did you look for him downtown around Fremont Street?”
Hunter shook his head while he scribbled a note. “Why there?”
“That’s where Papa started his magic career. He’s still got some old friends who work the casinos there. Sometimes they get up a game.”
“If you want us to find and help your father—”
“Help him?”
He shifted his feet. “It’s possible someone might want to kill him, so don’t be vague.”
“I—I didn’t mean—” Color warmed her face. “Papa likes to play cards, but the hotels down here on the Strip won’t take his bets.”
“Why not, does he cheat?”
She lifted her chin. “He could, but he doesn’t. Like me, he has a sense of honor. He wins and loses fairly. Up at the Golden Gate some men know him, and they’ll sit down to play, sometimes all night.”
“We’ll look into that.” Pocketing his notepad, he rose. “I’ll let you get back to work, but I need for you to come to the precinct at four this afternoon. I’ll clear it with Mr. Leighton.”
“What do you need me for?”
He loosened his tie, and she watched color creep up his neck to his face. He cleared his throat. “Did your father ever mention that you have sisters?”
She wasn’t sure which she hated more—the conviction in his voice that he spoke the truth or the compassionate look in his eyes that told her he was sorry.
***
Cosmo had always subscribed to the theory that the best place to hide something was in plain sight.
He fearlessly entered the Venetian’s casino, where frigid air conditioning raised gooseflesh on his bare arms and legs. The chino shorts, tennis shoes and Future Jackpot Winner T-shirt shouted “tourist” almost as loudly as the slimy, pungent sunscreen and the camera dangling around his neck. He’d worked for hours on his makeup—the larger nose, bushy eyebrows and the fake moustache to go with his goatee. Disguised as a retired businessman ready to take Vegas by storm, Cosmo prided himself that no one would recognize him.
Not even his own daughter.
Cosmo skirted the craps tables, ignoring the call in his blood to let fly the dice. He had more important matters to attend to today. Hopefully, his Cory would be open-minded.
He spied her, sharp and professional in her dealer’s uniform. Her one rebellion was all that curly dark hair, which made male heads turn to watch her wherever she went. She remained oblivious to the ripple of interest that trailed her as she walked along with a suited fellow. Even from here, Cosmo recognized the cop. At least Hunter was treating Cory with deference as he handed her a business card. They’d probably been discussing Cosmo’s disappearance.
How much did they know?
Hunter departed with a nod and long strides that made it hard, but not impossible, to see his frown. Cosmo’s gaze darted back to Cory. She looked up from the business card, her eyes glittering with moisture, her jaw set in uncompromising anger.
Shit. She knew. They’d told his daughters about him. About each other.
Though he’d known this day was a possibility, Cosmo had steadfastly betted against it. He could have prevented all of this—not gotten involved with an international con game, not made that fateful call to the authorities after that Russian translator turned up dead—but he’d wanted Iris to claim her heritage. His plan would have worked, too, if not for Mickey’s interference. That boy was going to get them both killed if he weren’t careful.
Cosmo’s hand touched his hair before he remembered not to mess with the neatly combed perfection. No disguise would prevent Cory from recognizing his wild hair. He dug into his shorts pocket for a mint while he watched her replace a dealer at an empty three card poker table. Excellent.
He sidled up to an empty chair, pretending to read the explanation signs on the table. For good measure, he dropped his wallet on the floor. Nothing like making a complete goober of himself for the surveillance cameras.
“I’ve never played this game before,” he said in a fake drawl. “We don’t have gambling in South Carolina. Is this game easy?”
His question shook her from her reverie. Cory blinked away her unshed tears and focused on him with a smile. “It’s easy to learn, but not always easy to win. Would you like to try?”
He pulled out the high seat and perched on it. “If you’ll teach me, missy.” He winked at her and watched her smile tighten as if to put distance between them. That was Cory, never saw her own beauty, always toed the company line, always held men at arm’s length.
Maybe it was time his daughters met. Cory could learn a lot from both her sisters, the kind of stuff her old man couldn’t teach her.
“Would you like to buy some chips?”
“Sure. Give me two hundred worth.” He tried to hand her two crisp bills.
She tapped the table. “Lay them here for me, please.” She quickly counted out two stacks of chips and traded them for his bills, which she stuffed into a slot in the table.
Cosmo listened while she explained the game, his head tilted slightly as if he heard better out of one ear. He kept his eyes trained on her, but he listened to all the ambient sounds of the casino, keenly aware that an unexpected surprise could walk up behind him at any moment.
“Okay, then, missy,” he drawled when she’d finished. He laid two chips on the table. “There’s my ten-dollar bet. Let’s see a hand.”
His pair of deuces beat her king-high hand, and he doubled his money. He let out an uncharacteristic guffaw. Hell, he was starting to hate this character he’d created. But he remained at the table, despite the risks, even ordering a Blue Hawaiian from the cocktail waitress. He needed to get a message to Iris, and he needed Cory to deliver it.
“Well, lookee here, just who we wanted to see.”
Three cowboys strode up to the table and laid their money down. One pushed his hat back and grinned widely at Cory. “Set us up, darlin’, I’m in a winning mood.”
Cosmo sipped from his blue drink while the cowboys arranged themselves and got chips. A few extra bodies at the table, especially young men intent on gaining Cory’s attention, would work in his favor. Already he could see her erecting that cool façade of hers.
It took three hands, but finally he was ready. Cory turned over three jacks in her dealer’s hand. The cowboys all groaned, and she smiled. “Sorry, gentlemen. Three of a kind is pretty rare in this game. Better luck on the next hand.” She collected their bets, one by one, until she got to Cosmo. “How about you?”
“I think I may be one step ahead of you,” he said.
With a look of puzzlement, she flipped over his cards. Three queens. The cowboys whooped at his success.
“Three little ladies, don’t that just beat all!”
“That bonus bet is going to pay off big.”
“Way to go, Gramps! Now maybe all our luck will change.”
Still celebrating, they flagged down the waitress to order a round of drinks.
Cory said nothing, but recognition lit her eyes for a moment before she blinked and returned to her professional demeanor. He knew she’d make the connection.
“I think maybe I’ll call it quits here,” Cosmo said quietly.
Cory fanned his cards on the table for the camera then started to collect chips for his payout. She didn’t make eye contact with him, and she kept her head averted from the camera so no one could read her lips. “Quitting for good, or just for the day?”
“For good. When fortune deals you three lovely queens, you’ve got to think about them and do what’s right.”
“So, good fortune is what you’d call this?”
“That and talent.” He grinned at her then glanced at the cowboys to make sure they were still occupied. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to lose these chips before I cash out today.” He’d always encouraged Cory to uphold a high standard for honesty, and he’d hate for her to think he’d cheated for the money.
“See that you do,” Cory whispered, then c
alled out for the pit boss. “Bonus payout!” She stared at the three queens on the table. Moisture rimmed her eyes.
Cosmo forced himself not to reach out to her. He only had a minute more to help her understand. “A hand like that is a treasure,” he said. “A queen is always a good strong card in any hand, but three of them together like that? They’re practically unbeatable.”
Cory stared at him. “I don’t know. I imagine queens could get kind of jealous of one another. After all, there can only be one queen of any country.”
“Now there’s where you’re wrong. Each of these queens is queen of her own world. See? Hearts, diamonds, and spades. All equal in value, and I love all three of them.”
“And if I were one of those queens, which would I be?” she asked softly.
“The queen of spades. You have the power to bury me, as well as the power to dig me out.”
“And what of the other two?” Her voice was small, like a tiny child.
It about broke Cosmo’s heart. He’d only wanted the best for his girls. Had he failed them all? His index finger tapped one card, then the other. “The queen of hearts has blond hair and a heart of gold, and the queen of diamonds is the keeper of the gems.”
Her gaze dropped to the cards then lifted to meet his again before she nodded. The pit boss arrived and approved her payout while the cowboys clapped Cosmo on the back.
“I’m going to call it a day.” Cosmo separated a healthy portion of chips and pushed them back toward Cory. “A tip for the lovely lady.”
“Thank you, sir. Will I see you again?”
“Not soon. I’ve got to finish up one more project before my retirement officially begins.” With a wave, he turned and headed toward the slot machines. Only when he reached the first row did he dare to turn back for a quick look at his daughter.
She’d returned to the game, every inch the consummate professional he’d taught her to be. No matter how much inner turmoil, Cory had learned young to stay focused on the cards and the routine. She was schooled and disciplined.
And there would be hell to pay when he faced her again and had to really explain the past thirty years of his life.
