“I’m sure she’ll do great,” I said. “She sounds like a smart kid.”
Ellen smiled. “She’s always been my baby. For such a long time, it was just the two of us; we’ve always been close. Mothers always worry about their children, and I can’t help feeling it’ll be so difficult for Trish.”
“Kids are tougher than we think,” said Ian.
Ellen nodded. “I guess you’re right.”
“What was Carl like as a husband?” I said.
Ellen smiled and looked off into the distance. “It’s taking me a while to process everything. We were only married for two years; I guess you could say he was a good husband. I mean, he wasn’t at home very often, because he was always so busy with work. But he was nice to me, and he wanted me to be happy. He wasn’t like a lot of the other rich, controlling husbands out there. He wanted me to spend money on whatever I wanted, and do whatever I felt like. He didn’t care that I wasn’t as beautiful as a lot of the other women in his circle, and he never asked me to get Botox or plastic surgery or even to dye my hair. He accepted who I was. I’m going to miss him.”
I gulped. “You sound like you were very happy with him. I hope that someday I’ll have what you had.”
Ellen looked at me sympathetically. “Well, things didn’t end very well, so I hope you have something better than what I had.”
“I read that you two met at an awards ceremony,” I said. “It sounds like a whirlwind romance.”
Ellen nodded. “Everything happened very suddenly.”
“And what about his two ex-wives?” said Ian. “Did they try to make your life miserable?”
Ellen shook her head. “They never bothered me. We were polite to each other when we met, and Carl was a good father to his sons, but the ex-wives never interfered in my relationship with Carl. I think the two of them moved on and made a new life for themselves.”
“Did you and Carl ever argue about anything?” said Ian. “Carl did seem to have some rather extreme views.”
Ellen looked at us and shook her head. “No, we never really argued. I didn’t agree with his views, but I didn’t let that interfere with our marriage.”
Just then, a tall, slender girl appeared in the doorway. She had short brown hair, and her eyes resembled Ellen’s.
“Trish,” said Ellen, “come in, say hello to Ian and Tiffany.”
“I just want to grab a piece of chocolate,” said Trish. She glanced at us and muttered something that sounded like “hi.”
“Ian and Tiffany are private investigators looking into Carl’s death,” said Ellen.
If this was meant to impress her, it didn’t. She gave Ian and me a withering glance and picked out a piece of chocolate.
Before she could walk away, I said, “I’m sorry to hear about your dad’s death.”
“He wasn’t my dad,” said Trish.
“But it must be difficult for you. I’m sure everything will work out for the best.”
Trish looked at me like I was a gray-haired fuddy-duddy who didn’t know anything about the world. “Yeah,” she said, “I’m sure.”
And then, before we could say anything else, she turned and left the room.
“Trish hasn’t been very talkative since Carl’s death,” said Ellen. “It’s affecting her more than she lets on.”
“It’s hard to be a teenager,” said Ian. “Life can be difficult.”
Ellen nodded. “Trish was never the moody kind. I guess it’ll take her some time to deal with Carl’s death.”
“You have a brother and sister back in Indiana, right? How was Carl’s relationship with them?”
Ellen shrugged. “Carl was always so busy, wrapped up in his work. Whenever we met them, he would be polite, but they weren’t particularly close. I don’t think he was very close with too many people.”
“In the last few days before he died, had he been acting strangely in any way?”
Ellen shook her head. “The cops asked me the same thing. As far as I could tell, he was acting normal. He was busy with trying to enter politics, and he still had to manage his business.”
“Did you hear anything odd that night?”
“I wasn’t home. Everyone kept telling me that I needed to get out and enjoy Vegas for a bit, so I drove over to the Strip after lunch and just hung out at the casinos till… well, Steve called me and told me I needed to get back home.”
“You were at the Strip the entire time?” So that’s what Elwood meant by a solid alibi. Ellen would’ve been on camera the entire time, and there was no way she could’ve poisoned Carl’s decaf.
“Mostly. I mean, I stepped out to walk from one casino to another every now and then, but mostly I was just indoors, watching the other tourists and playing some roulette and craps.”
“And how… how did you find out about Carl’s death?”
Ellen shuddered. “It was so horrible. Steve found him lying in his study, and then he called 911, and then he called me to tell me to come home. He said Carl wasn’t breathing properly and that I needed to be here. By the time I managed to drive back… they’d already taken Carl to the hospital and it was too late.”
“Where was Trish?”
“Trish was in her room, chatting with her friends on Facebook or one of those social sites. She was listening to music on her headphones, and the cops asked her if she’d seen or heard anything, but she hadn’t. Oh, dear. I feel so horrible every time I think that someone must’ve snuck in while my baby girl was upstairs by herself.”
Ian and I exchanged a glance. Maybe Steve the bodyguard had heard something.
“Did Carl have any enemies?” I asked.
“He would have been running against two people in the primaries, and of course there’s a radical feminist group who follows him around and protests whenever he appears.”
“What about the people who claim he molested them? Or the woman who says he’s her baby daddy?” said Ian.
If Ellen was surprised by Ian’s tactlessness, she didn’t show it. “I guess you could call those people enemies. But I think they were just out for publicity, or maybe they were looking to get some money from Carl. I know that Carl was planning to meet one of those women. He told me he was ready to offer her a lot of money to keep quiet.”
“Do you know if they actually met up?” Ian said.
Ellen shook her head. “I don’t think so. But now that Carl’s dead, nobody’s going to get paid any money for starting those horrible rumors.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Ian. “So do you think Carl might have been having an affair?”
Ellen shook her head. “I’m not saying he’s a saint, but there’s no way he could have made time to have an affair. He was always so busy.”
“But there are a lot of scandals surrounding him,” I said. “Did that bother you?”
“It did. But when you’re in the public eye, scandals and rumors come creeping out. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
“So you don’t really believe that he was abusive towards a girl he used to date? Or that he fathered an illegitimate child? Why else would he try to pay someone to keep her quiet?”
Ellen looked down, slumped back against her seat suddenly, and shook her head. “I don’t—I’m sorry. I guess I thought I was strong enough to keep talking about these things. But I’m not. This is all very difficult for me.” When she looked up at us again, I saw that her eyes had welled up with tears, and she brushed them away with the back of one hand.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I never meant to upset you.”
“I know,” said Ellen, forcing herself to smile. “I don’t blame you, you’re just doing your job. But I don’t think I can keep talking about this anymore. I’m sorry.”
“No,” I said, “I’m sorry to have upset you. But we’d like to talk to Trish as well, since she was home that night and might’ve seen something.”
Ian said, “She didn’t seem very talkative when she walked into the room, though.”
“She’s a quiet kid,” said Ellen wryly. “I’ll text her and tell her to come down and speak with you two.”
Ian and I waited for a few minutes, feeling a little awkward as Ellen texted Trish, still visibly upset at having to think about the rumors regarding Carl. When her phone pinged with an incoming text, she read it in a glance and said, “Trish says she’s gone out for a walk and then she’ll stop by a café. She needs air.”
“Oh.” I frowned. “Isn’t she a little young to be going out by herself without letting you know beforehand?”
“She’s very mature,” said Ellen. “And she’s responsible and never gotten into trouble. She knows I trust her, and I let her do her own thing.”
“I’m almost thirty and my parents still don’t let me do my own thing,” said Ian. “They control my trust fund even though I earned that money myself.”
“You’re less responsible than a sixteen-year-old,” I said. “Most sixteen-year-olds can handle money better than you can and they won’t spend five figures on jewelry for a girl they just met.”
“That was just once—”
I went on, unable to resist teasing Ian. “And they clean their rooms more often than you, and they do laundry more often.” And then I turned to Ellen and smiled. “I’m sure Trish is very intelligent for her age.”
“She is,” said Ellen. “It’s too bad you couldn’t chat with her today.”
“We’ll come by another day to meet her,” I said. “Ian and I will show ourselves out. We have to talk to your bodyguard, Steve, anyway.”
Ian and I left the room feeling quite awkward, and when we were almost at the front door, we met a tall, muscular, blond man.
“Where’s Steve?” said Ian.
The blond man looked at us suspiciously. “Steve left, his shift’s over. Why?”
I sighed. The interview had started so promisingly, but now everything was falling to bits.
“Ian and I wanted to talk to him about Carl’s death,” I said. “Do you have Steve’s phone number?”
The blond man nodded, and I spent a minute getting Steve’s phone number from him.
“When Steve’s next shift?” I asked.
The blond man shook his head. “I don’t know. The last I heard, we were all going to be let go of, now that Mr. Wareheim’s dead.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
The blond man shrugged. “Don’t be. There’s no trouble getting bodyguard work here in Vegas.”
I nodded and thanked him for his help, and then Ian and I headed back to my car.
“That went horribly,” said Ian. “I can’t believe you made Ellen cry. At least I’ve never made anyone cry.”
“Neither have I, so far. I hope she feels better soon.”
When we got home, I dropped Ian off and told him I needed to check something in my car before I came upstairs. After I was sure that Ian had gone back to his apartment, I headed out again and drove over to the café where I’d arranged to meet Russell Zimmerman.
I hoped that at least this interview would go better.
Chapter Twelve
Russell Zimmerman had agreed to meet me at a café near the airport.
The place he’d picked had small wooden tables along one wall and comfy couches in the middle of the room. The place was bustling and smelled of freshly made coffee and cookies. Soft jazz and the sound of busy conversations filled the air.
I spotted Russell sitting at the back by himself and waved. He was sipping a large coffee in a takeout cup, and he stood up to shake my hand when I approached.
Russell was a heavyset man of medium height. His hair was curly and red, his face was freckled and his eyes green. He wore a wrinkled polo neck shirt and jeans, and I noticed a small carry-on bag by his chair.
“Thank you for meeting me,” I said. “Are you going to the airport after this?”
Russell nodded. “I have to catch a flight to New York. I figured we might as well talk before I had to leave.”
“I appreciate it,” I said. “I’m trying to find out information on Stone.”
“Stone worked for me a while back,” said Russell. “Maybe three, three and a half years ago? I was having trouble with an employee I’d fired, who insisted on following me around and making threats. The police couldn’t do anything, so I hired Stone to stick with me and try to talk some sense into the guy.”
“And did it work?”
Russell nodded. “I thought Stone would be some kind of thug, but two days after following me around, he went to talk to the employee. Turns out, all I had to do was pay the guy an extra ten grand in severance pay, and he left me alone.”
“That’s Stone,” I said, smiling. “He might not talk much, but he can figure things out. So he only worked for you for about a week?”
“Less than. But I paid him a bonus, since I was so happy with his work.”
“How did you find Stone?”
“Tad Hamilton recommended him to me. When I met Stone, he gave me a couple of other references too, businessmen he’d worked for here in Vegas.”
I felt my heart sinking. I had been so hopeful that I would learn something new about Stone tonight, and those hopes were quickly dissipating. “So you didn’t know Stone all that well?”
Russell nodded. “You could say that. I suppose this information is disappointing for you.”
My face must have shown how dejected his words were making me feel, so I forced myself to smile. “No, I do appreciate you talking to me. Did you ever see Stone after that?”
Russell shook his head. “No, we parted on good terms, but I never saw him again.” And then he frowned. “Hang on. Now that I think about it, I did actually see him three or four months ago. Had to travel up north, and I stopped for lunch one day at a diner near the Pecos Substation. I was having a quick meal there, and Stone walked in with an older man—tall, bald guy. When he saw me, Stone came over and introduced his friend as Johnson.”
My heart beat quicker, and I could feel all my senses becoming alert. I was acutely aware of the laughter of three women sitting on the couch, and the noise the coffee machine made when the barista pulled a fresh shot of espresso.
Johnson had been Stone’s handler in the CIA. He knew all about Stone’s past, and the two of them had kept in touch when Stone moved to Vegas. If anyone knew where Stone was and what was going on, it was Johnson.
Ever since the mystery surrounding Stone’s past had come to the surface, I’d tried to get in touch with Johnson. Unfortunately, Stone must’ve gotten him to take a vow of silence—despite my best efforts, I’d never managed to contact Johnson and find out what was going on.
I felt the blood rushing up my face in excitement, and I tried to keep my voice steady. “Johnson? Are you sure that was his name?”
Russell nodded. “I remember he had a firm handshake, and when I asked how they knew each other, Stone said they had worked together. I figured Johnson must’ve been a client of his, so I didn’t ask anything more. I know how everyone likes to have their privacy.”
I focused my gaze on Russell, hoping that the Johnson he had met was Stone’s contact in the CIA, not just a random client of Stone’s. “Did you talk to Johnson about anything?”
“No, I was about done with my lunch, so I paid my bill and left. We didn’t say much beyond hello, and mentioning that the weather had been quite nice the last few days.”
I nodded. “Okay, but you remember what this guy looked like?”
Russell squinched up his face and tried to think back. “He was tall, bald, and he wore a checked shirt and blue jeans. I think his eyes were blue, but I can’t remember. They might’ve been brown.”
“Was he skinny?”
Russell shook his head. “He wasn’t skinny, but he wasn’t fat either. He kinda looked like a high school football player who hadn’t been playing for a while, but he wasn’t fat.”
“How old did you think he was?”
“Well, his face was wrinkled. So I’d say at l
east sixty or seventy. Hard to tell.”
“What diner was this?”
Russell shook his head. “I don’t remember. But it was on East Centennial Parkway, just west of the Pecos Substation.”
I nodded. There wouldn’t be too many diners near the substation, and I could probably find the place easily.
“Do you remember anything else about the guy? Did you ever see him again?”
Russell shook his head. “I can’t help you there. That was the last time I saw him, and like I said, we didn’t actually talk.”
“Still, what you’ve told me has been very helpful. I really appreciate you meeting me like this.”
“It’s not a problem,” said Russell. “I hope you find out whatever you’re looking for.”
Tonight, my shift would start a little earlier, and I knew that I didn’t have long before I needed to head back to the casino. But I couldn’t wait to find Johnson, so as soon as I got into my car, I pulled up the map on my smartphone and looked for diners near the Pecos Substation. There was only one on East Centennial Parkway, and I headed straight there.
The Blue Bear Diner was a throwback to the 50s. Red vinyl booths lined one wall, and the floor was white-tiled. Framed photos of burgers, bacon, fries and scrambled eggs hung on the wall, and they instantly made me feel hungry. I headed over to the counter, and a large mocha-skinned woman came over to take my order. I decided to have the lasagna, and once I’d finished ordering, I described Johnson to her.
“Have you ever seen this man?” I said. “His name’s Johnson.”
“I know him,” said the waitress, whose name-tag claimed she was a Cassandra. “He’s a regular here. Comes in for lunch every now and then.”
Once again, my pulse quickened. “Only lunch? Not breakfast or dinner? Does he have any specific days he likes to come in? Does he ever come in with anyone else?”
Cassandra laughed. “Slow down, slow down. First of all, no, he doesn’t come in on any specific days. Not that I know of. I don’t work breakfast shift, so I don’t know about that, but I’ve never seen him here for dinner. And no, haven’t seen him recently with anyone else. He just comes in by himself, sits in a booth at the back, eats his burger, and goes home. Good tipper.”
Pesky Politicians in Las Vegas Page 7
