“I think we’ve got enough clapping footage,” said the man finally. “And now, if you’ve come with a loved one, it would be good if you could whisper in each other’s ears, give each other a hug, or maybe even give each other a kiss.”
I was about to get up and sneak off, when before I knew it, Gavin had wrapped his arms around my shoulders and started to pull me toward him for a kiss.
I shoved him away automatically—pushing so hard he almost fell off his chair. He looked at me in surprise. My hand flew up on its own and hit his cheek with a resounding slap.
I jumped out of my chair, wishing I could stomp on him like I would an insect, and said, “Don’t ever try that again!”
As I stomped away from him, I heard the skinny man onstage saying, “Brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that? Excellent fight footage! We’ll make sure it appears on the show.”
I didn’t hear anything else, because I’d pretty much run out of the auditorium, but Gavin somehow managed to catch up with me.
“Why did you have to do that?” Gavin’s face was taking on a shade of angry red, and I saw with some satisfaction that the skin on his left cheek was slightly pale from where I’d slapped him. “Now that’s going to be on TV, and everyone will think I’ve made a fool of myself.”
“But you were happy for Nanna and Ian to make fools of themselves,” I snapped.
“Do you know how this could damage my career?” Gavin waved his arms about wildly. “Why don’t you just act normal for once?”
“I am acting normal,” I said. “Why can’t you act like a reasonable person and take the hint? I have a boyfriend. I’m not interested in you, and I never will be.”
I saw Ian and Nanna standing near my car, and as Gavin and I approached, Ian said, “I was going to text you. I didn’t know if you’d be stuck in there forever, but Nanna and I are going to head home.”
“I’m leaving,” I said. “You guys did well.”
“You only got in because of me,” Gavin reminded us all. “Tiffany, don’t you think that deserves some gratitude?”
“No,” I said. “Keep your hands to yourself, and don’t bother me again.”
20
I made it to my shift at the casino just in time. As the happy noises and garish colors of the pit enveloped me in a warm embrace, I tried my best to stop my mind from wandering. I focused on the players sitting in front of me, trying to make witty banter, and I did my best to stop thinking about things outside the casino walls.
But it was to no avail. I couldn’t shake my anger at Gavin’s being so presumptuous, and the fact that I just couldn’t seem to get rid of him. I hated that he’d known Nanna and Ian had been set up to look like fools on Dance Party USA and hadn’t told them.
I was, however, relieved that the audition had gone pretty smoothly, and Ian and Nanna had managed to finish their short routine without hurting themselves. I was happy it was over and that neither of them had done anything too crazy onstage. I suddenly remembered Karma’s warning that nothing good would come from entering the dance competition, and I had to smile to myself—for once, she’d been blissfully wrong.
And then, of course, there was the matter of Sam. The more I thought about it, the more I found myself believing Keith; it seemed highly likely that Sam might’ve been having an affair with Ella. And if he had indeed left the office happy hour before eight o’clock, like Keith had told us, then he’d certainly had enough time to be able to murder Ella.
As I dealt out the cards and laughed politely at a lame joke the player sitting in front of me made, I remembered the thoughtfulness in Sam’s eyes as he’d talked about Ella. He’d really seemed to miss her—but perhaps there’d been something in his eyes that I’d missed. Perhaps he hadn’t just been remembering Ella, his employee; he’d been remembering Ella, his former lover.
I gave myself a little shake. It was all speculation, unless I had some way to prove that he’d been having an affair with Ella, and that he’d had a reason to want her dead.
I walked home slowly from my shift, down the alley that ran behind the Cosmo Hotel, lost in my thoughts.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when a dark figure stepped out of the shadows and said, “Tiffany.”
I was ready to scream when the figure said, “It’s me. Johnson.”
Johnson had been Stone’s mentor at the CIA, and now he was the one helping us track down the man who’d allow Stone to come out of hiding.
My hands flew up to my chest and I tried to slow down my breathing. “Oh,” I managed to say.
And then suddenly I felt a rush of excitement and adrenaline. “Any news about Tariq?”
“Not much,” Johnson said in a serious, gravelly voice. “But we’ve tracked him to Santa Verona. I’ve got two PIs on the case—Mindy and Beth.”
Worry stabbed at my heart. “Can we trust them?”
Johnson nodded. “Mindy is Stone’s second cousin, and the two of them have a good track record. If anyone can find Tariq, it’s them.”
I chewed my lip, disappointed that Johnson hadn’t shown up to tell me the good news that Tariq had been found; on the other hand, the fact that he’d been tracked to a small town and Johnson had two experienced investigators on the case was good news.
“Let me know if I can do anything to help,” I said.
“I’ve got your number. With any luck, we’ll find Tariq before Eli does.”
The thought of Eli, the man who’d gotten Stone into all this trouble, made my heart pound loudly again. It was a race against time, and we needed to win it.
21
I got up in time for breakfast the next morning and texted Ian to come over.
I was munching on my cereal when he came by and started babbling about the new coffee machine he wanted to buy.
I wasn’t interested in his coffee plans, so I interrupted him to say, “Have you talked to Nanna since yesterday? I didn’t get a chance to call her.”
Ian nodded. “I gave her a call last night to ask if she knew when the episode would air, and when we’d find out if we got through to the next round. She didn’t know when it’d air, but she said we should know the judges’ decisions by next week. You know,” Ian added ruefully, “you didn’t have to be so mean to Gavin. He might’ve been able to help us get on another reality TV show.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Honestly, Ian! It’s like you’re becoming a reality TV show addict—except instead of watching them, you keep trying to appear on them. Aren’t you sick of it?”
Ian looked at me in consternation. “What do you mean, ‘sick of it’? I’ve only appeared on one show before this, and that was with you, and you stole the limelight.”
“Because you went onstage and froze,” I reminded him. “I didn’t want to steal the limelight.”
Ian shrugged. “Whatever. It’s lots of fun to do these things. There’s no business like show business—but of course, you wouldn’t understand. You don’t have Hollywood running through your veins.”
I rolled my eyes, wondering where Ian had learned those clichés. “You’re not trying to become famous by doing these shows, are you?”
Ian shook his head. “No, it’s just that they’re so much fun to do. The action, the lights, the cameras. It ain’t over till the fat lady sings, Hollywood—”
“I get the idea.”
“Maybe I’ll ask Gavin if he knows when any more reality TV shows are coming to Vegas. Maybe I could get on one of those.”
“What kind of show do you want to be on? It’s not like you to get so addicted to being on camera.”
Ian looked sort of embarrassed and shrugged. “It’s not that I’m addicted to being on camera. It’s just… it’s hard to explain. It’s like, for once, people are paying attention to me.”
“People always pay attention to you.”
“But this is different.”
I shook my head, not understanding, but sensing that appearing on the show filled some kind of void in Ian’s life. “I’m
afraid Gavin won’t want to help out much. He tried to kiss me yesterday, and I slapped him on camera. He said that I’d humiliated him and ruined his career prospects.”
Ian burst out laughing. “Trust you to do something like that. But maybe Gavin will get over it—maybe I could introduce him to some girls, and then we’d become good friends, and then he can help me get on another show.”
I looked at Ian hesitantly. “Sure, that might work. As long as you keep him away from me.”
Ian and I arrived at the law offices an hour and a half later, and Sam’s secretary told us that he was in.
When we knocked on his door, Sam peered at us through the glass walls of his office and waved at us to come inside, even though he was talking on the phone.
Ian and I headed in, sat down on the other side of his desk, and waited for him to finish his call.
“Now,” said Sam after he’d finished, “how can I help you guys?”
His smile was friendly and obliging, and I felt a pang of discomfort.
Just because Keith had told us Sam was having an affair, that didn’t mean it was true. It would be kind of awkward to ask Sam if he’d been sleeping with Ella, so instead of going ahead and asking him whether it was true or not, I told him how helpful his staff had been with the investigation so far.
“I was just wondering,” I said, “did you remember anything about Ella’s behavior in the last few months that might have been unusual?”
Sam shook his head. “I’m afraid not. We did work together a lot, but she seemed like the same old person.”
I was about to ask him if anyone else might have been harassing her at work when there was a short knock on the door, and Rob walked in.
“I need to talk to you about the Morgan account,” Rob said to Sam. He glanced at us meaningfully, and Sam shrugged.
“It’s okay, we might as well trust them. They’re private investigators, and it’s not like they’d get repeat business if they went around blabbing about everyone else’s secrets. Right, guys?”
Rob glanced at us again, and then he said softly, “I was going to pay the accountant’s bill from there, but when I logged in this morning, there seemed to be less money than I remembered.”
Sam frowned and typed away on his keyboard, clearly logging in to the account himself. A few seconds later, he pressed his lips together, and then he shook his head. “There seems to have been a few small transactions over the last few months. We must’ve been paying our incidentals from there.”
Rob nodded. “That’s what I thought, too. Just wanted to check with you.”
Sam clicked his mouse a few times and said, “We might as well pay from the Citi account.”
“The Citi account looks good,” Rob said. “I checked it just before coming over here. We must’ve been paying some expenses from the Morgan account instead of the Citi account, but it’s all good for now. We’ve got to streamline everything at some point.”
After Rob left, I said, “What was that all about?”
“Nothing important,” Sam said.
“Seems like you’re short on cash,” Ian said.
Sam scowled. “We’re not short on cash. We’ve just got less cash in one account and more cash in another. It’s a matter of choosing which one to pay from.”
“The employees think that budget cuts are about to happen,” Ian said.
“Maybe,” Sam said, sounding guarded and suspicious. “Who said that?”
“Pretty much everyone,” Ian said. “People think there might be job cuts.”
Sam shook his head. “No, we won’t need to cut jobs. If we just trim back some of our other expenses”—he glanced at the vase of fresh flowers that was sitting on his desk—“like all these flower deliveries, and all the free food we give to our employees, we can tighten our belts without anyone really noticing.”
“You mean the employees here get free meals?” said Ian.
“Just free breakfast and snacks,” said Sam. “You know, bagels, donuts, yogurt, fruit—that kind of stuff. I’ve been thinking of getting rid of all the bagels and donuts and yogurt, and just sticking to fruit.”
“I’d notice if you suddenly got rid of my free donuts,” Ian said. “I’d miss that a lot.”
Sam sighed. “It was just an idea.”
Ian said, “Claudia thinks you’re bad with money.”
Sam barked out a laugh. “Sure she does.”
“Isn’t that right, though, if you’ve got too many expenses?”
Sam looked at Ian warily. “Claudia and I disagree on things sometimes. But she’s as involved with the expenses as I am.”
“Anyway,” I said, thinking that it was time to get to the reason we’d come here in the first place, “I was wondering—how long have you and your wife been married?”
Sam looked at me, seeming a little confused by the question. “Fifteen years now.”
I nodded. “And… during all this time, I assume you’ve had an affair or two, here and there?”
Sam stared at me, his face emotionless and blank. “No.”
“There’s a rumor in the office,” I persisted, “that you’re having an affair with someone.”
“That’s not true,” Sam said quickly. “I love my wife, and I’m completely faithful to her.”
His answer was a little too fast, a little too glib.
“Did you go to the office happy hour on Friday night?”
“Yes, I already told you guys that.”
“What time did you leave?”
Sam’s smooth, wrinkle-free skin was starting to turn an unattractive shade of purple. “I don’t remember. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back to work.”
He turned back to his computer screen and began typing something on his keyboard. It was a clear dismissal, and I hadn’t even gotten a chance to ask if he’d been having an affair with Ella.
Ian said, “It’s funny how you got busy all of a sudden.”
“I’m a busy man,” Sam said. “And I’ve got a couple of important phone calls to make now.”
He glanced at the door to his office, and Ian and I stood up, unsure of what to do next.
In the end, we trooped out, and as we passed Sam’s secretary, she said, “Did you guys get all the information you needed?”
I stared at her blankly, and she repeated the question.
“Yes,” I said, feeling like an idiot. I wished I had just come out and asked him if he’d been having an affair with Ella. But what made me think that he would admit to it? And then, I had a brainwave. I said, “Sam needed to make an emergency phone call, but he told us to get his wife’s phone number from you.”
Sam’s secretary glanced through the glass walls of his office; as we’d said, Sam was busy talking away on the phone. She nodded and pulled out a phone number for us, which I wrote down quickly, thanking her and leaving before Sam could find out what we’d done.
Sam’s wife’s name was Nicole, and we were told she’d be home at this hour. I had no idea how much Nicole knew about her husband—I could only hope that she knew something we didn’t, and that she’d be willing to share that knowledge with us.
22
Sam and Nicole lived in a large two-story house in Summerlin.
Ian and I drove over, and then I parked two houses down and called the number I’d gotten from Sam’s secretary.
Nicole answered warily after three rings, and I introduced myself awkwardly, explaining that I was looking into the death of a young lawyer who worked at Sam’s firm, and would it be possible to talk to her about this for a few minutes?
“I don’t see why not,” Nicole said, still sounding slightly suspicious, “but I don’t think this has anything to do with me or Sam.”
“No, of course not,” I said, “but I was thinking there might be an off chance you’d met Ella even though you didn’t know who she was.”
“I don’t see how that would be possible.”
I sighed. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but if
you’re free to chat for a few minutes, maybe I could explain myself a bit better. I’m parked outside your house, and if you’re free right now, maybe I could come in and ask you a few questions?”
There was a brief pause as Nicole considered the request, and then she said, “Oh, why not? Come on over.”
Nicole answered the door within half a minute of my knock. She turned out to be a slender platinum blonde with flawless skin. Although she wore no makeup, her eyelashes were long and thick, and I suspected they were extensions.
Ian and I introduced ourselves, and then we followed her inside and found ourselves in a stylish, expensively decorated living room. Red Persian carpet on the floor, brown leather sofas, and an intricate landscape painting hanging on the wall.
Ian and I settled down on one of the sofas, and Nicole sat opposite us, watching us carefully.
“You have a gorgeous house,” I said, trying to sound warm and friendly.
Nicole nodded politely. “What did you want to ask me about this woman’s death?”
“I was wondering if you’d ever met her. She was a pretty brunette, and I thought that perhaps you’d have seen her at work events or something like that.”
Nicole shook her head. “I avoid Sam’s work events as much as I can—I’ve got three small kids, and Sam isn’t all that keen on my going with him to these things anyway.”
“Are you sure?” I said. “I’ve got a photo of her right here on my phone.”
Nicole crossed her arms. “I’m sure. I’ve never met any of Sam’s employees.”
We were getting nowhere with this line of questioning, so I said, “How long have you and Sam been married?”
Nicole’s eyes were unfriendly and unsmiling. “How is this related to your investigation?”
I shifted awkwardly in my seat. I wondered how I could delicately explain that I suspected her husband of having an affair with the dead woman, when Ian said, “We think your husband may have been more than Ella’s employer.”
Dancing With Danger in Las Vegas Page 12
