Singularity

by Steven James

  “To you.”

  “To us.”

  Her words leave me with nothing to say. Regardless of what I should have done at the cliff in the Philippines, I have the disquieting feeling that she’s right.

  “Play it safer for me,” she says softly. “If you get hurt, you’re not the only one who would get hurt. If you were to die, I would too. Inside.”

  I don’t want to make a promise that I can’t keep, and I really have no idea what to say.

  For a long moment neither of us speaks.

  Finally, when she does, she changes the subject and her voice takes on a more detached, objective tone. “Fionna and the kids are waiting up by the ticket booth. Xavier is going to tell them a bedtime story, and then there’s something for us to look into.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Fionna got a notification. She’d set up some sort of tracking program, and her computer found a record of Tomás Agcaoili landing in Vegas.”

  That got my attention. “He’s in the city?”

  “It looks like it.”

  “So they’re heading back to the house?”

  “Xav wasn’t sure about your plans, so he offered to do the story here instead of at home.”

  “Where is ‘here’?”

  “The last I heard they were going to head to the parking garage.”

  “That seems like an odd place to tell a bedtime story.”

  “Xavier’s idea.”

  “That explains it.”

  We hurry to meet up with them.

  As we go, I’m thinking of how in the world we might find Tomás, and also about Charlene’s concern for me and if I can change who I am enough to satisfy her, if I can learn not to climb so high without a rope.

  It would mean giving up a big part of who I am, and I’m not sure that’s something I’m ready to do.

  Or something I’ll ever want to.

  Fred needed to find a way to get Wray alone to speak with him.

  It wasn’t going to work to approach him while he was with a group.

  Keeping his distance, he followed Wray, the woman, and the four kids to the parking garage and watched as the children gathered around him, the two girls sitting on the rear bumper of a minivan.

  Fred struggled with what to do. His car was two levels up, but if he left to get it, Wray might slip away.

  However, when he saw the kids settle in, he ended his internal debate and went for the elevator.

  There were open parking spaces nearby. He could get his car, park on this level, and wait for Wray to leave. Then he could confront him and find out what he needed to in order to keep his blackmailer from releasing the photos.

  Seruvian Trolls

  Charlene and I arrive as Xavier is beginning his story.

  “It happened on the year when Halloween fell on Friday the thirteenth . . .”

  Mandie’s eyes grow large, but Donnie looks at Xavier curiously. “That doesn’t even make sense. Besides, it has to be continued from the last time you told us one.”

  “You remember where we were?”

  “Of course.”

  Mandie slides close to Xavier and takes his hand. Maddie sits ladylike on the edge of the bumper. The boys stand attentively nearby.

  “Well, let’s see . . . So, you remember what was happening?”

  Mandie raises her hand.

  “Yes?”

  “The princess was on her way to the castle, and there was this really big monster on the edge of the Tangled Forest waiting for her.”

  “It was a Seruvian Troll,” Donnie clarifies. “A poisonous one.”

  “Ah, yes.” Xavier acts like he doesn’t remember any of this, but I’m sure he does. “So, a Seruvian Troll. Now, anyone who knows anything about trolls knows the worst kind you can ever meet are the ones from Seruvia. They have hair growing all over their bodies. They have a wart on the end of every hair.”

  Maddie wrinkles her nose. “Ew.”

  “They have ears on the bottoms of their feet so they can hear people who are—”

  “Trip-trapping across their bridge?” Mandie offers.

  “That’s right. Trip-trapping across their bridge. They have eyeballs in their bellybuttons so they can see people trip-trapping across the bridge. And they have noses growing out of their armpits. And as you can guess, that’s a very bad place to have a nose grow.”

  “Yeah,” Donnie agrees. “No kidding.”

  “So anyway, as you already know, this story happens in a faraway land where kings rule and princesses attend lavish balls and dragons dwell in the hills. It’s a land of ancient magic and talking animals and a terrifying wizard.”

  “Do the animals know magic too?” The question comes from Mandie. I’m surprised it hasn’t been addressed before in their story times.

  “Only two of them do. A squirrel named Travis and a spider named Alexander.”

  She nods as if that clarification makes all the sense in the world. “What’s the princess’s name?”

  “Maddie.”

  “No it isn’t.” Maddie shakes her head. “Last month you told us that other princess had my name, the one from Pruellia.”

  “Oh, yes, that’s right. This one was named Donnie.”

  “Was not,” he objects. “She was a princess!”

  “Okay, sure, I was just kidding. Anyway, for real, she was named Mandie . . .”

  When he says that, the real Mandie’s eyes light up with satisfaction.

  “And she was the daughter of a lovely queen named—”

  “Fionna!” Mandie says enthusiastically.

  “Yes. Fionna. And she was the most captivating queen in that land or any land anyone had ever heard of before.”

  Fionna looks pleased and nods to him. “Thank you, Mr. Wray.”

  “You’re welcome, Ms. McClury.”

  As Xavier goes on, Fionna receives a text and frowns slightly as she reads it. She gives me a quiet glance, and I get the sense that something is up. However, she holds back from saying anything and lets Xavier continue his story.

  “Well, Mandie had a magic wand with her that she could use to cast a spell that would knock down any monster that came after her . . . She’d named her wand ‘Betty’ and she’d never had to use it, but now, when she faced the troll, she had no choice. She raised it, and as he came at her, she aimed the wand at him and said the spell and knocked him down when he was only five paces away from her. She had Travis and Alexander with her—”

  “The squirrel and the spider,” Mandie reminds everyone.

  “That’s right. And Travis knew a freezing spell he tried to cast on the troll, but just at the last moment the troll jumped up and raised a mirror—”

  “I didn’t know he had a mirror.” Donnie’s tone seems to indicate that he thinks he has caught Xavier making a mistake.

  “And neither did Travis,” Xav says without missing a beat. “And the spell bounced off the mirror and reflected back to hit him, and he immediately froze solid. When Mandie tried to unfreeze him, Betty froze as well and then cracked in half. The troll laughed and said, ‘Now you’re all mine!’ He rushed at her and just as he grabbed her, Alexander leapt off her back and the troll escaped with her before Alexander could save them.”

  “Uh-oh.” Maddie looks genuinely concerned.

  “The troll took her back to his lair beneath the bridge, where it was so dark you couldn’t even see the chin on your face.”

  All four of the children stare down trying to see their own chins.

  “And I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”

  “Tell more now!” Mandie pleads. “Pleeeeeeeeeease?”

  “Nope. I’ll tell you the next chapter the next time we get together, hopefully tomorrow night. You know the rules.”

  “There’s rules about this too?”

  “We need to save some of the story for tomorrow. We can’t use it all up tonight or we won’t have any left.”

  “There’s too many rules.” She folds her arms grumpily.
<
br />   “Okay, kids.” Fionna rounds up her children. “We need to get home. Tell Uncle Xavier good night and thank him for the story.”

  They all do. Mandie gives him a big good-night hug.

  As the kids begin to climb into the minivan, Fionna says to Xav, “Thanks for not making it too scary. You know how Donnie can be.” She makes sure that’s loud enough for him to hear, and he rolls his eyes at her.

  “I don’t get scared of his stories.”

  “Oh dear. I didn’t know you were listening.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  When the kids are settled, Fionna discreetly shows us the text she’d received, a message that apparently came from her computer, and I can see why she’d given me an anxious look a few moments ago.

  Agcaoili had just bought a ticket for a red-eye later tonight, a flight that leaves in three hours.

  “I thought you should know.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I need to get my kids home.”

  “Sure. I’ll call you later if we need anything.”

  Fionna opens her door and Donnie asks from the backseat, “Mom, can we get some butane and hydrogen tomorrow?”

  “For what?”

  “You add them to soapy water and have someone, like Maddie, hold out her hand and you just light it and—”

  “I don’t want you lighting your sister on fire, Donnie.”

  “Again,” Maddie adds.

  “Again,” Fionna reiterates.

  Again?

  “But Mom, this morning Xavier showed us how to do it safely.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  And then she swings the door shut and I can’t make out the rest of the conversation.

  Charlene, Xavier, and I discuss the news Fionna just shared with us. I ask if they have any idea how we can find Tomás in the brief window of time we have.

  “We could show up at the airport?” Xavier notes the obvious.

  “And do what?”

  “Hmm . . . Not sure. Contact security?” But then he argues against his own suggestion before we can. “No, what are they going to do? The guy is legally here, he’s not under investigation by anyone. There’s no reason for them to detain him.”

  “I think the airport should be our last resort. In the meantime, we need to talk to someone who might know him before he ever goes there.”

  “Who might know a snake wrangler who murdered a man halfway around the world?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Exactly what?”

  “That’s the key.”

  He looks at me quizzically. “What is?”

  “That he murdered a man halfway around the world and then ended up here in Vegas. He doesn’t live here, we know that already. He came here for a reason.”

  “To see someone,” Charlene interjects. “To get paid.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking, yes.”

  “But how in the world are we going to figure out who he came here to see?”

  “We’re not.”

  They share a glance, and Charlene says, “Okay, now you’re starting to lose me.”

  “You have Nikki’s number?”

  “Sure.”

  “Let’s call her. I think she might be able to help us.”

  The Hideaway

  On the phone with Nikki, I summarize what’s going on and then ask her, “Do you know of anyone who might . . . well, we’re looking for someone who a murderer might have come to Vegas to meet with.”

  Someone from the criminal underworld, I think, but I don’t say that.

  Before joining our show, Nikki was a high-end call girl, but you can’t be in that business for long and not make at least some contacts with the girls on the other end of the spectrum.

  “I really couldn’t say.”

  “Think about it, Nikki. Someone, anyone, who would be well enough connected to know a hired killer. A pimp? A dealer? A bookie?”

  She considers that for a long time before replying. “There’s one man, but you wouldn’t want to meet him. I’ve heard stories.”

  “Stories?”

  “About the things he does to people. I met some girls who worked for him. One of them tried to keep some of the money that a client gave her and that she was supposed to hand over.” Nikki hesitates, and when she goes on there’s a thin tremor in her voice. “She showed me the scars, Jevin. Believe me, you don’t want to meet with this man. He’s hard-core.”

  Vegas has a spotted history. People don’t typically like to admit it, but organized crime built this city. It used to be that the mob ran most of the gambling here, but as revenues from gambling have decreased, it’s pretty much common knowledge that the mob has moved on to drugs and prostitution, so when Nikki says this guy is hard-core, I assume he’s connected to organized crime.

  While we don’t know for sure that someone hired Tomás to kill Emilio, based on all we’ve been able to uncover since we returned to the States, it seems pretty likely. It’s impossible to know if this man has any connection to Emilio’s death, but it’s at least a place to start.

  “Nikki, we know that Agcaoili killed Emilio. From what you’re telling me, this guy you’re thinking of might be our best bet in locating him. Even if he doesn’t have the information himself, he might know someone who knows someone.”

  She’s slow in replying. “They call him Solomon. That’s really all I know.”

  “Solomon.”

  “Yes, but I don’t think—”

  “Where can we find him?”

  I don’t give up, and after one more objection she finally sighs. “Over on Industrial Boulevard. Try a bar called the Hideaway. I’ve heard some girls mention it a few times. That’s all I know. But I really don’t think you should do this.”

  “Duly noted. Don’t worry, if anyone asks who told us about Solomon, we never talked to you.”

  I don’t get to that part of town much and I don’t know where the Hideaway is, but she gives me directions.

  After the call, I update Charlene and Xavier on what Nikki told me, and Charlene asks, “What are you suggesting we do?”

  “Not we, me. I’m going alone.”

  “No you’re not. Remember what we talked about earlier? About you thinking about me—about the two of us—before jumping into things? If you’re going to talk with this man, I’m coming with you.”

  “Charlene, no.”

  “I know some girls who might have heard of him. I might be able to smooth the waters. If anyone should talk to him, it’s me.”

  “I can’t let you come. Not if there’s any chance you might be put in danger.”

  “Well,” she insists, “I’m at least going to come to the bar with you. If you need to go and talk to this man alone, alright. Fine. But I’m not going to sit at the house worrying about you. I’m coming along.”

  “So am I,” Xavier informs me firmly.

  I try to dissuade them, but they’re as determined as I was with Nikki, and in the end I give in.

  I’m guessing that it might not be best to park my $183,000 Aston Martin outside a bar in that part of town, so I suggest we take Charlene’s Ford Focus instead.

  The FBI isn’t taking any of this seriously, the police aren’t being helpful, so at least for now it’s up to us to find out some answers. This could very well be our only chance. If we don’t find Tomás in the next couple hours, he might slip away and we would likely never solve the mystery of Emilio’s death.

  A thought strikes me: Solomon might be involved in all this, might be the one who hired Tomás.

  Keep that in mind. See how it goes. Feel him out.

  For a moment I consider contacting Fionna and letting her know what we’re up to, just in case something goes wrong, but then I decide it would only make her worry.

  As we’re taking our seats in the car, Xavier looks deep in thought. “If we somehow do manage to find this guy Solomon, and he actually does know something that can help us, he’s not just going to tell us what we want to know. He’ll want something
in return.” He turns to me. “What are you willing to offer him?”

  “Money.”

  Charlene starts the engine. “How much?”

  “As much as I need to.”

  Fred cruised behind the Ford Focus as it left the parking garage. As he was pulling onto the street, the man who was blackmailing him called.

  “I’m following Wray now,” Fred told him. “I’ll find out what you want to know. I just need to get him alone first.”

  “I’ve given you enough time. I told you who he was, where he would be—”

  “No, listen, just give me another hour. I’ll get the files. Trust me.”

  The line was silent, and Fred began to wonder if the man was still there.

  “One hour,” the voice said. “And then I’m posting the pictures online. You know what’s going to happen if those photos are made public.”

  Fred felt his temperature rising. “Yes, I know. I’ll get the information you want. I’ll talk to you in an hour.”

  “One hour.”

  The call ended.

  Fred was motivated. He was not going to let those photos go public. He would do whatever it took to find out the information from Wray.

  Whatever.

  It.

  Took.

  Calista Hendrix sipped at her drink and gazed around the Chimera Club, the swankiest club on the Strip, but she didn’t see Dr. Jeremy Turnisen anywhere.

  She checked the time again.

  Yes. 10:20. He was a very punctual man and was not in the habit of being late, but he had mentioned on the phone that he wouldn’t be able to meet her earlier, so maybe he’d had a hard time slipping away from whatever he was doing.

  Techno music pumped through the air and the dance floor thrummed with people losing themselves in the beat. Sweaty bodies sliding against each other in ways that would have been considered inappropriate twenty years ago but that were the norm today. Especially in Vegas.

  A melee of madness, she thought. A phrase from some book they’d studied in her lit class back in college.

  Man, it was weird how she remembered stuff from that class at the strangest times.

  Jeremy wasn’t the kind of man to dance in a club like this, more the kind to play blackjack at the tables on the next level up, but nevertheless she searched the crowd carefully.