by Rose, Kristi
“He hasn’t been in here for at least a week or two. We sit on the info for six weeks so winners can get things in order, then we put out a press release. My guess, that’s what he’s doing,” she offered.
“How often did he come here before the big win?” Shannon hadn’t mentioned Sean winning a few million either.
“Easy three times a week. Sometimes more. Truthfully, he probably won back what he’s spent over time.”
“Broke even,” I mumbled.
“That would be my guess.” Her radio squawked.
“If he comes in…” I waved a hand dismissively. “Never mind, I’ll try him at his house. Thanks for your help, Lisa.”
“Anytime,” she said before turning and speaking into the walkie-talkie as she moved away.
Dead end for now. Best thing for me would be to head home, watch some more How To Be a PI videos and map out some ideas. Shannon hadn’t sounded like Sean was in the wind with his winnings. But her not knowing bothered me, too.
Struck by an idea, I caught up with Lisa who was fast-footing it across the casino. “Quick question. Does Sean have a favorite dealer or table?” By nature, people were creatures of habit and many superstitious. Maybe the dealer would know something.
Lisa stopped and pointed over my shoulder. “That’s the roulette section. He didn’t have a favorite table, only a favorite blonde. Currently, that’s Jessica. She’s the shorter one in the middle.” Lisa handed me a chip. “You’ll need to play to chat. Compliments of the casino.” She winked.
The chip was a one-dollar marker. “Thanks. Sadly, I’ll likely lose it in the first play but…” I shrugged as if to say nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Jessica wasn’t hard to locate. In a sea of dark-haired women with Native American heritage, Jessica stood out like a giant zit on a pretty face. Her table was first in line for roulette and across from the slot machines. Two guys stood at her table. I moved to fill the gap between them, feeling uncomfortable and awkward and unsure of what to do next.
“Place your bets,” Jessica said in a nasally voice. Sean had a type, alright. She was young, reminded me of cheerleader Shannon, only less perky and had an infinity for piercings. Two small hoops in each brow, one diamond in her nose, another diamond, possibly a fake, in her lip, and hands adorned with rings. Most were of the artsy type, twisted metal of dark colors contrasting with silver. Only one, two entwined hearts, sported sparkles.
The roulette table had a green background with several numbers in red and black. At the far end where Jessica stood was a wheel. The men placed their chips, the denomination much higher than mine, on numbers in the black and red area.
I hesitated. “Put my chip anywhere? I’ve never done this before.”
“You can place your bet on any of the black or red but also on the single-oh or the double-ohs,” Jessica said in a bored voice.
Double zero? Like me, bad job, bad man. What were the odds?
Logically, I knew I wasn’t a two-time loser, but over the past twenty-four hours, I’d experienced pangs of being precisely that. Married a married man and stayed in an unfulfilling job only to finally quit, believing I had support but finding out I had none.
I placed the one-dollar chip on the double-ohs. “My friend Sean swears by this game.”
Jessica stared at me, eyes narrowed, probably wondering if I was talking about her Sean.
“He did win pretty big here recently.” I scanned the crowd. “He was supposed to be here tonight.” I pretended to be slightly confused as I looked around before bringing my attention back to Jessica. I did a half shrug.
She gave the wheel a spin then dropped the ball.
The clicking sound of the wheel moving around and around was exciting. Everyone at the table leaned closer.
When the wheel stopped, Jessica called out, “Double-ohs.”
The men huffed. “Beginners luck,” one said. He was a portly man, shorter than me with a bushy mustache that matched his bushy eyebrows. When he spoke, his jowls shook slightly.
“Maybe I have Sean’s luck,” I said, attempting to get Jessica to open up.
Bushy-brow man snorted. “Maybe you don’t want his luck. Haven’t seen him here since he won. Besides, he won on the slot machine behind you. Would pull the handle when we were between dealers. He did it religiously.” He pointed to Jessica, “He wasn’t supposed to do that but some of the dealers were more lenient with him than with others.”
The unspoken words hung there. Jessica snarled at Bushy, who chuckled in response.
Bushy continued, “What do you think? Someone off him for the cash?” He laughed as if his last remark was a joke. One I didn’t find funny. If he were missing, clearly Shannon would have said that, right?
Behind me was the GO BIG or GO HOME slot. Each pull of the handle cost five dollars. Too rich for my blood.
“He played both?” Sean’s business was successful, but I didn’t think he was the sort of high roller to play a slot several times in one night at five bucks a pop. Maybe I was naive.
Jessica slid a handful of chips toward me with a long stick. My winning amounted to $36.00. Not bad for a free chip to begin with. I could buy groceries.
I continued my probing. “You both know Sean?”
“Her better than me,” Bushy said and chuckled.
Jessica’s cheeks pinked. “We dated for a bit.”
“But not anymore?” Did she not know he had a wife and kids?
“He got boring,” she said with a flat expression.
“Sure, he did,” Bushy laughed. “Two things about Sean. He likes his risks. Gambling and chasing skirts. So long as the skirt isn’t his wife.” To Jessica, he said, “You sure you got bored with him and not the other way around? I noticed the new dealer, what’s her name?” He snapped his fingers. “Kimmie isn’t here. If there were a table where I could bet on him being with her, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
Jessica’s lip curled up. “Well, there isn’t such a table, Bob. You’re at this one, and you need to place your bet now or move on.”
Clearly, Jessica was no longer the flavor of the month. Kimmie was whom I needed to talk to.
“Thank you,” said the other man. “If I wanted to hear chatter about other people’s business and love life, I’d stay at home and listen to my wife talk about the characters on The Bachelor.” He slammed some chips on black thirteen then faced me. “Beginners luck only lasts so long. You staying or running away with your winnings?” He was tall, thin, and lanky. Bald head, a day’s worth of grayish growth on his face, and paint splattered on his arms. His jeans and T-shirt were clean but worn in places. People-watching was a skill I’d honed as a kid. Because dyslexics struggled with language in a variety of forms, learning to read the room became essential. For this guy, I’d say painter by trade, and the way he spoke about his wife told me he likely dressed down just to get on her nerves.
Bushy-brow Bob on the other hand was in a light blue button-down that had been freshly pressed today, likely in the morning. His slacks were dark, his shoes polished. He worked in management.
Lanky man tapped his finger against the table rim impatiently.
“Let’s see if this beginner’s luck will continue,” I said and slid my chips onto the double-ohs.
Bushy-brow Bob chuckled and placed his bet. Jessica spun the wheel, dropped the ball, and I forgot to breathe.
I closed my eyes and waited for the clicking sound to stop. When it did, the table remained quiet. Cracking an eye open, they were watching me.
“Double zero wins,” Jessica declared.
“Are you kidding me?” A crazy smile of glee spread across my face.
Lanky man rolled his eyes. “You gonna keep playing?”
I used my forearm to sweep the chips toward me. “Nope. I’ll stop here. I’m not sure how much this is, but it’s more than I started with, and I like to end on a good note.”
“You’ve got over a grand there,” Bob said with a smile.
; I sucked in a breath. “Seriously?” My mouth fell open.
He nodded.
Lanky pointed a thin finger across the room. “Go there and cash out,” he said, clearly annoyed.
I scooped up the chips and left. They paid me in cash, which I was uncomfortable with stuffing into my backpack. I glanced around nervously, expecting to find someone following me.
“There’s security throughout the casino, hon, plus in the parking lot. You’re safe,” the banker woman said.
“Thanks,” I said. Nevertheless, I reorganized in a woman’s restroom stall by hiding the money in maxi-pad wrappers. Gently, I peeled the adhesive on the outside so I could remove the pad. I distributed the money evenly between the four, aligning the bills with the pad and refolding. Then I tucked them each back into their wrapper. Now, they could be mistaken for heavy flow pads and no one would be the wiser.
Instead of wearing the backpack over one shoulder, I put it over both and even buckled the waist strap, more out of habit from hiking than fear of having my money taken, but it would help should the latter happen. These winnings would give me a cushion I needed, albeit a small one. I could see how people became addicted. Even now I was considering returning to try again until my funds got short.
Outside, the night air was cold, a wind coming in off the river. Keys in hand, I dashed to LC, weaving between the other cars.
Though the lanes had streetlights, there were dark pockets. A casino security car and another cop car patrolled the area. I was a handful of yards from my car when a dark figure popped up out of nowhere. Cloaked in a hoody, he came from the side and grabbed me by my backpack.
“Give it to me,” he snarled.
I screamed, twisting and turning in an attempt to wrench myself free of him. He jerked me back by the pack, the movement startling. My keys dropped from my hand, and the pack slipped down my shoulder to my upper arms. I raised my arms over my head and flailed them in the air. Unable to gain purchase to move forward, I changed tactics, another strategy Carson had taught me, and ran backward, crashing into the man behind me.
We went down like a felled tree, stiff and bouncing on the ground, me on top. My attacker oomphed when he hit the ground. I’d knock the wind out of him and guessed I had seconds before he would regroup.
I rolled off him and, driven by instinct to survive, kicked him in the man business.
He groaned, covering his groin, and rolled to his side. I’d only caught a glimpse of his face and didn’t care to stick around for a further look.
I scrambled along the asphalt to my keys and scooped them up while trying to catch my balance so I could run. In front of me, the security truck was barreling down toward me. The cop SUV had stopped a few feet behind it. I ran full speed toward them.
Leo Stillman jumped from the SUV and drew his gun. “Freeze, police,” he yelled.
I skidded to a stop and put my hands in the air.
He grunted. “Not you, Sam,”
I ran past the security truck and took refuge at his side, then pointed to the man who’d attacked me. Only the security cart was blocking the way. The security officer came around to the side of his vehicle where we could see him, arms in the air.
“He got away,” said the young guy in a casino uniform. “Like a ghost.”
Leo said something under his breath—I’m guessing he swore—then holstered his gun. “You okay?” He scanned me from head to foot.
I nodded. “Shaken up a bit.”
“You’ve had a heck of a day.” He pulled a flashlight from his belt.
I shook my head in amazement. “Was the office break-in today? It feels like that happened weeks ago.” Today was stretching into a thin band of endless time that showed no signs of ending. I was going to need ice cream or something else of quality goodness to steady my nerves and cap off the day.
Leo clicked on the light and shone it over me as if he didn’t believe I was okay. “Did you know him?”
“Why would you think that?” Surprise was evident in my tone.
“Standard question. Ruling out domestic dispute.”
I gave him my you’ve-got-to-be-kidding face.
In typical Leo fashion, he shrugged off my reaction. “What do you think he wanted?”
“My money, I guess. He was trying to take my backpack.” I ran my hands over the straps. Carson’s pack had held up like a champ.
“Why your backpack? Anything good in it?” Leo stuck his thumbs over his utility belt.
“Over a grand I just won at roulette,” I said matter of fact.
The security guard joined us.
Leo said, “You know, no one has ever been attacked or robbed at this casino.”
“Until you,” the guard said. “Let’s go to the security shack. I’m gonna need a full statement.”
There went my ice cream. “Since I’m the first, is there some sort of prize that comes with that?” I was ever hopeful.
“Yeah, you’re walking away alive with your money. Congrats,” Leo said. “I don’t like this, Samantha. This is the second time I’m saying this to you today. Trouble is dogging you and I think it’s only going to get worse.”
Sometimes, he was super annoying. Especially when he was right. I brushed away the goosebumps crawling up my arms. Because after dogging came stalking.
12
Monday
I spent Sunday going through the townhouse and tossing more of Carson’s stuff into spare Rubbermaid bins we had in the garage. I was so angry with Carson, or whatever his real name was, that I planned to use the ash from his torched stuff to fill his fake urn. I tried to get lost in TV, but the news was stuck on a story about some senator’s son being killed in a freak fire, and no shows held my attention.
On Monday, I got back to the business of earning money. Today, the plan was to work more on the client list, clean up the mess the liar had left and, move on, putting him in the rearview mirror. The sooner the better.
Two more on the list decided to cancel before I’d called Marni Edgar, client number seven. Thankfully, she was interested in continuing with my service. She agreed to meet with me and Precious, who I’d sold as my assistant, at Marni’s office. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have Precious alongside. Her professional air would help sell me. Besides, she was ticked she’d missed the action at the casino. I drove LC through How Ya Bean coffee drive-thru for lattes and muffin tops before arriving at Marni’s office, and we sat in LC eating and drinking and talking about the past events since we had a few minutes to kill before the meeting.
Marni, a land broker, was a statuesque redhead with curly hair and stunning blue eyes. She met us in the lobby. She wore a pale blue linen skirt and silk shirt with a peter pan collar. Not a wrinkle to be had. I, on the other hand, had dressed as if I was on loan from the local parish with my plain black skirt, gray button-down, and slide-on Klogs that could be worn for day hiking. Functionality was my middle name. Fashion was not. To top it off, I had a white chocolate smudge on my hip from where my muffin top had broken off and landed. Further smearing had occurred when I tried to lick it off.
Marni and Precious were cut from the same cloth. They sized each other up like top-of-the-food-chain animals do.
Precious nodded to the skirt. “Retro Chanel?”
“Top is as well,” Marni said. “Pulitzer?” she asked, pointing to Precious’s pants.
“Of course,” Precious said.
They murmured compliments in appreciation. Apparently, they’d found each other acceptable.
“I’m Samantha True,” I said, hoping nothing about me screamed amateur. I cleared my throat, a premeditated lie sticking before I forced it out. “I’m one of the PI’s with Holmes Securities.”
“You’re Carson’s wife,” she said matter-of-factly and pointed to a cluster of chairs in the corner of the lobby. “Let’s take this over there.”
“Ah, yes, I am.” Lie number two. We settled into the chairs.
Marni crossed her legs and leaned back into t
he chair, relaxing. “He talked about you. Said he knew if he couldn’t get the information, you could.”
Precious and I exchanged a quick, confused look.
“What else did he say?” Trouble with this Carson situation was reconciling his deception with his kindness. He’d never been mean to me. I’d had no reason to think he was anything but devoted and loyal. Which made his butthead actions that much harder to accept.
She gave a delicate one-shoulder shrug. “Not much. We talked about the dating scene, and he said he was glad he didn’t have to do it. He had you. Said meeting you was the luckiest day of his life.”
Lucky? Because I was an easy mark?
My temper flared. A subject change was the only solution if this meeting was going to go well. I didn’t want to point out that Carson had been likely feeding her a line of BS.
“I’ve reviewed your case notes.” Sadly, I hadn’t really retained much of what I read except she wanted some dude screened. “Character check” was the term. “But why don’t you start from the beginning and tell me what you’re looking for?”
Marni waved a dismissive hand, her eyes not focusing on me. “It’s silly, really. Kinda embarrassing.”
Precious chuckled. “Embarrassing is Sam’s middle name. Trust me, she’s had a heck of a week these last three days, so nothing you’re going to say will surprise her.”
Marni folded her hands in her lap and picked at her thumbnail.
“I’m really not good at love. Unlucky.”
I snorted in agreement, then waved it off when she gave me a puzzled look. “I’ve been there,” I said.
“I met this really nice guy at a friend’s party a few weeks ago. We’ve talked, texted, and gone on two dates.” She held up two fingers. “He wants more. I want more. But what if he’s an asshat of the highest form? I’d rather not have to go through all that. I asked your husband to check him out for me. See if the skeletons in his closet are manageable. I don’t want to find out he’s got a wife and girlfriend. Know what I mean?”
