Double Down

by De Leo, Vicky

  When Alan stopped by to walk with me to the meeting, he was wearing the Mickey Mouse tie clip I’d given him for Christmas two years ago.

  Charlene laughed when she saw him. “Great tie clip. Should have worn it with the Goofy tie she bought you for your birthday.”

  “I couldn’t find it. Must be at the cleaners.” He waited until we were in the hallway before asking, “So, how was your weekend?”

  I shrugged. “It was fairly boring.”

  I knew I was in trouble when he stopped and hissed, “Oh, yeah, getting threatened happens to you every day?” He said it quietly, but it was clear he was upset.

  I tried to make light of it. “Not every day, but it’s not uncommon.”

  He wasn’t having it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I turned to look him in the eyes. “Because I didn’t want you to overreact and jeopardize your job.”

  He grunted, but conceded, “You’re probably right. Arnie must have been a real pain in the ass in the interview, because from what I heard, he made your detective so mad his partner had to pull him aside. At least we know Arnie isn‘t the killer. Still if he comes anywhere near you again, you need to tell me.”

  I nodded. Apparently, that wasn’t good enough, because he stopped and waited until I said, “Okay, I promise to tell you.”

  We’d been told the purpose of this meeting was to introduce to us the next corporate marketing strategy, so it wasn’t surprising to see the vice presidents of marketing, hotel operations, and gaming sitting up front. However, I didn’t expect, nor was I pleased to see, Darryl Collins, Vice President of HR. Alan and I slipped into seats against the wall as the meeting got started. They stuck to the agenda showing us clips of the ads that would be showing up in the media in the coming weeks.

  Looking at Darryl across the room, I conceded that he was probably attractive to most women. He had a certain sophistication. Average height, he stayed in shape and always dressed in expensive custom-made suits, but then that was true of most of the corporate executives. His light brown hair was always perfectly cut and neat. The word that came to mind when I looked at him was slick.

  I tried to remember what I knew of his background. I vaguely recalled him telling me that he spent his early childhood in England. He was the sole heir to a large estate, but I couldn’t remember where. Darryl married the sister of the Chairman of the Board. Rumor had it she married him for his bloodline, and he married her for her money when his family money ran out.

  If he’d had an affair with Monica, he would have been a prime target for blackmail. Even if the Chairman suspected that Darryl played around, I was sure he wouldn’t tolerate it coming out in the open and embarrassing his sister. Darryl could have arranged to meet Monica here, after office hours. He wouldn’t want her to show up at the corporate offices. If anyone saw them together here, they could say they were meeting about business. I wondered how I could find out where he was on the night she was murdered. Aside from his reputation, I just didn’t trust him.

  Instead of it morphing into lets-meet-with-the-executives-and-go-over-the-financials meeting that I was afraid of, they ended the presentation. The lights came back on, and when no one had any questions, the corporate executives started packing up.

  I was about to relax when Darryl, looking directly at me, asked, “How is the murder in HR impacting the business?”

  Fortunately before I could open my mouth, Tony said, “The authorities have questioned some of our employees, but as yet there is no evidence that any of them were involved. I don’t believe the story has generated any headlines outside of Las Vegas.”

  Seeing that Tony was determined to defend me, Darryl let it go. The meeting broke up.

  Alan and I escaped while a few of our fellow executives were chatting up the VIPs. I didn’t want to go directly back to HR in case Darryl decided to ambush me there, so we headed for security.

  I told Alan my thoughts on Darryl. “Is there any way you can find out where he was that night?”

  “Probably. Corporate security keeps an eye on him for the Chairman. I’ll call one of the guys I know.”

  “Do you know if they’ve found Monica’s car?”

  “They found the one she had registered with us. She sold it a month ago. They don’t know what she was driving that night. We checked the employee parking lot for any unclaimed cars but didn’t find any. What are you thinking?”

  We were in a back hallway, so I stopped to gather my thoughts. “Someone took her keys and searched her apartment and her office. Evidently, they didn’t find what they were looking for, because then they searched my house. If I were a blackmailer, there are several ways I could hide the evidence. I could give it to a lawyer or someone else to hold. The whole point being that the person who has the incriminating evidence makes it public if anything happens. Since no one‘s come forward, I think we can rule that out. I could put it in a safe deposit box or a locker somewhere, but we have to assume that there wasn’t a key to either of those on her key chain, because they kept searching. If I were Monica, I wouldn’t give that kind of a key to anyone. I’d want to have access to it. If not in her home or office, then the next logical place is her car.” I stood still and waited for him to congratulate me on my superior deduction.

  Instead, he raised one eyebrow and said, “Do you have any proof at all that she was blackmailing anyone?”

  Deflated I said, “Not exactly, but Delgado said that she was getting extra money from somewhere, and considering her what’s-in-it-for-me behavior, it seems a logical conclusion.”

  He rolled his eyes. “For all you know, those could be payments on the car she sold, or money from a rich boyfriend. Face it, you never really knew her, you have no idea what she was capable of.” He must have realized how much his words had hurt me, because he immediately reached out and gathered me into his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. None of this is your fault. I just meant that we don’t have enough information.”

  All my emotions of the last few days welled up and spilled over. I clung to him, tears rolling down my face as he held me and rubbed my back. In Alan’s arms, I didn’t feel the all-consuming passion that I felt when Delgado held me. Instead, I felt safe and warm. I knew Alan cared about me, what I thought, how I felt. Maybe friendship was more important in a lasting relationship than passion. What we had wasn’t just friendship; there was also some physical attraction. The only thing that stood in the way of our relationship developing into something more was our jobs. Maybe I was giving up something precious because I was too inflexible.

  It seemed that Alan didn‘t view the rules as the obstacle that I did, because when I lifted my head to look at him, he kissed me, softly as first, but with growing intensity. Startled by the sound of a door opening and footsteps coming down the hallway, we broke apart. Awash in confusion and conflicting emotions, I turned to leave.

  He caught me by the elbow and said, “We have to talk.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t do this right now. I need some time to sort out my feelings.”

  I opened the door that led into the casino. He let me go. I walked across the casino and slipped outside. The heat hit me like a blast furnace drying any leftover tears. There’s something about fresh air and sunshine that always lifts my spirits and clears my head.

  Now that I was away from him, two things were clear. First, I had no idea what Alan wanted from me, and I wasn’t about to trade my integrity for just sex. I would have to keep my distance until we could have that conversation. Second, I was an emotional basket case. I had cried more in the last few days than I had in the last couple of years and, therefore, in no condition to be making any important decisions. I needed to concentrate on doing my job and Monica’s for the moment, and let the police do theirs to solve her murder. That resolve lasted right up to the moment I entered HR and saw Darryl waiting for me in my office.

  Chapter Eight

  Obviously my strategy to avoid him hadn’t worked. A
s usual, he jumped up and hugged me. I pasted a smile on my face, disengaged as fast as possible and sat down across the desk from him. With Darryl the more space, the better. We exchanged the usual pleasantries. Finally, he said, “I know that losing Monica must be a terrible strain. I think I have someone who can help you.”

  I had to think fast. The last thing I needed was another of Darryl’s bimbos. “Thanks anyway, but Tony and I have discussed consolidating the labor and training positions for the time being. At least until business picks up. Mike, my training manager, wants to expand his skill set. This will be a good opportunity for him. I’m sure you understand we all need to cut back to save on overhead.” I smiled sweetly.

  He frowned, but what could he say?

  “By the way,” I asked, trying to divert him, “do you remember anything about where Monica was from? We’re having trouble locating her next of kin. I remember her telling me that you were the one who recommended her for the position in St. Louis.”

  He choked on the coffee he had been sipping. “I don’t know anything about her.”

  I looked at him wide-eyed, trying for a perplexed expression. “Really, that’s strange because I’m sure she mentioned how nice it was that since she moved here, you and she were able to keep in touch regularly.” It wasn’t true, but he didn’t know that.

  “You must be mistaken.” He looked at his watch. “I have to go, I’m late for a meeting,”

  He was out of my office in record time. I had the feeling that he wouldn’t be dropping by again anytime soon. I’d have to remember that for the future. I had definitely made him nervous.

  I called Tony as soon as Darryl left to tell him I had used his name to avoid having Darryl recommend someone for the position. He understood and assured me he would back whatever decision I made. When I mentioned it to Mike, he surprised me.

  “Actually I’d really like the opportunity.”

  “Excuse me? I offered you the job before I took on Monica, and as I recall, you said you no.” The Labor Relations person had to be available to work all shifts so they could interact with the entire staff. Mike’s wife was a nurse who worked the graveyard shift. He’d explained he needed to be home to care for their three small children while she was at work. As the Training Manager, he could arrange his schedule to fit hers.

  “I haven’t had a chance to tell you. Sara got a transfer to the day shift, and with all the kids now in school, I can be available anytime.”

  “Mike, you’re a life saver. I won’t forget this.”

  “I won’t let you. Now about that raise . . .”

  I laughed. “Let me talk it over with Mr. Augustino and I’ll get back with you.”

  With that settled, I asked Mike to take a look at all of Monica’s files. Based on what I’d recently found was her operating style, I wanted him to review all the decisions and documentation in her files, laying aside anything that didn’t look right. I also wanted him to follow up with each supervisor for anything that might not be in the files. Thankfully, he had just finished a series of classes and we could put off the next series for a while.

  Crossing that off my agenda for the day, I now had time to call Jerry McCrea. He wasn’t in, so I left a message for him to call me.

  Walking into the outer office, I spotted Rose at her desk just behind the clerks. As the employment supervisor, she needed to be available to help the clerks quickly when things backed up or got out of hand, so she didn’t have an office.

  I stood in front of her desk. “Do you have time to talk to me?”

  Giving a nod to the Data Entry Supervisor, who acts as her relief, she followed me into my office.

  Once we were seated I asked, “How are the kids? Have you heard anything from Danny?”

  She folded her hands in her lap. “The kids are fine, except they really miss their father. Danny finally stopped calling. I heard he took a leave of absence to go to Mexico to see his family.”

  I wondered if the police had been able to interview Danny before he left, or if going to Mexico was more about getting out of town, and less about visiting family. When I looked at Rose, there was a sadness in her eyes I had never seen before. My heart went out to her.

  “Do you think you will ever be able to forgive him?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. You divorced your cheating husband.”

  I shook my head. “The situation was entirely different. I didn’t have kids, and it wasn’t just one affair. My husband never asked for forgiveness because he had no intention of ever being faithful.”

  She looked down, twisting her hands in her lap. “You think I should take him back?”

  I reached out and put my hand over hers. “I didn’t say that. Only you can make that decision.” After a moment, when she seemed more in control, I went on, “The detectives have asked me to try to reconstruct Monica’s last week. I understand that you started keeping a record of her visitors. Did you give that to the police?”

  Quietly Rose said, “No.” Looking up she explained, a plea for understanding in her voice, “I wasn’t home when Monica was killed. I was out driving around. My sister had taken the kids so I could be alone and get myself together. Valerie, I wanted Monica dead.” There was a fire in her eyes now. “But I didn’t kill her. I can’t prove it wasn’t me. I was afraid if I told the police I kept a record of everything she was doing, it would make me look guilty.”

  “On the other hand, by not telling the police everything you know, you might be protecting the one who did kill her.”

  She tossed her head. “So what? I’d like to give them a medal.”

  “I can’t blame you for hating her, but she didn’t deserve to die.”

  She shrugged.

  Since I could see I wasn’t getting anywhere, I decided to take a different tack. “Do you still have those notes?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think you should give them to the police.”

  She shook her head, so I proposed a compromise. “Would you be willing to allow me to compare what you have against her calendar? Maybe she wrote everyone down, and I can tell the police that I have been able to identify everyone she met with here.”

  She thought about it for a minute, and then agreed. While she went back to her desk to get the notes, I popped into Monica’s office to retrieve her calendar. From Rose’s notes, I was able to identify three employees whose initials were on the calendar. I remembered seeing files on those meetings. There was one name on Rose’s list that Monica hadn’t written down. This one intrigued me the most because I knew him well. Martin Sanders was a cook, recently elected as the Culinary Union President and a thorn in my side for the last couple of years. He constantly filed grievances. Most of them were bogus and wasted a considerable amount of time in research to answer. Often even the employees he was supposed to be representing didn’t believe that management had done anything wrong. His grievances were illogical, rambling on for pages and pages, ranting about a management conspiracy to deprive employees of their rights. Just sifting through the innuendos to get to the few facts was a chore. He’d always seemed slightly unbalanced to me and because I didn’t trust him, I never met with this man without having a witness, as well as detailed notes, so it was interesting that Monica hadn’t even written his initials on her calendar. The other interesting fact from Rose’s notes was that over the last month Monica had been spending less and less time actually in the office.

  After Rose went back to her desk, I called the police station and asked for Detective Long. He wasn’t in so I left a message, giving him the names we had identified including Martin Sanders. I doubted that Delgado would try to get in touch with me, but since I didn’t want to sit around listening for the phone to ring, I took Charlene and Mike to lunch.

  When we returned, there was a message from the teamster’s representative, Jerry McCrea, saying he would be in his office all afternoon. Jerry was easier to work with than some of the other union reps. He was seldom demanding or confr
ontational. He preferred to be diplomatic, probably because he had been a lobbyist prior to becoming a union rep. I never knew why he changed jobs. We didn’t always agree, but when we couldn’t come to a compromise, we agreed to disagree and take it to the next level. I got out my negotiation notes to have a legitimate reason to call him.

  When he answered the phone, I said, “Hi, it’s Valerie from the Royal. I was just wondering when you think you will have a draft of the new contract.”

  “I should have one ready by the end of this week. By the way, I heard about Monica. I’m so sorry. Have they arrested anyone yet?”

  “No. They’re still investigating. As you probably know they are talking to everyone she met with in the week before her death.”

  “Yeah, some detective was here asking questions. I couldn’t understand why they were talking to me. I barely knew her.”

  “According to her calendar, she had a meeting with you three days before she died.”

  “Oh, that. She sent me a text saying she had a question, and since I was already there for negotiations, I stopped by.”

  “What was her question? Because I couldn‘t find any notes on an issue.”

  “I don’t remember; something minor I was able to clear up.”

  He was being evasive. I’d worked with him for years. I knew he could remember conversations we had six months ago, and the details of most of the grievances he had worked on.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Didn’t you think it was odd that she was calling you during negotiations? Our standard procedure is to solve any issues that come up right at the negotiating table.”

  “It was no big deal. Why the inquisition? If you are trying to insinuate that I had something to do with her death, you are way off base.”

  Now he was angry. It was time to back off. “No. No. Of course not. I just wanted to make sure that our records were accurate. Let me know when you have a draft of the contract.” He grumbled a reply and hung up.