Lucky Charm in Las Vegas
Page 1
Lucky Charm in Las Vegas
A.R. Winters
Contents
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Lucky Charm in Las Vegas
Copyright 2018 by A. R. Winters
www.arwinters.com
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental.
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Do you believe in luck?
Uptight accountant Andrew Coombs has no time for superstitions – until he meets his own personal Lady Luck, Charlene Nelson, the lovely casino waitress who helps him win big at the slots. But when Charlene stands him up on a date night, Lady Luck is no longer on his side – or in the land of the living.
Who would kill the cocktail waitress? Who was Charlene Nelson when she wasn’t slinging drinks? Out-of-towner Andrew doesn’t have a clue where to start looking for answers…
As luck would have it, Ian and Tiffany are on the scene – though this time, their murder investigation plays second fiddle to an even bigger and incredibly dangerous operation.
Tiffany’s friend Stone is out to clear his name and prove his innocence. When war refugee Tariq Zubair knocks on Tiffany’s door, the final puzzle piece is nearly in place.
But dark forces lurk in the background and want the truth to stay buried at all costs, even if that means burying Tiffany and Ian along with it! Can the sleuths solve the mystery without becoming a statistic themselves? And can Stone finally come back into Tiffany’s life for good?
Prologue
Andrew Coombs walked into the pit of the Treasury casino.
It was an exciting place, with bright lights, gaudy carpets, and a flamboyant, happy vibe. People of all ages, shapes and ethnicities milled about the floor—most of them were dressed in vacation clothes, but a few were dressed up, as if they were going out to a fancy dinner. Come to think of it, maybe some of them were going to dinner right after this, or maybe they'd hit up a show.
Andrew took it all in and smiled bravely. The pit was loud, almost overwhelmingly so, but he wouldn't let that deter him. He took a deep breath, and inched his way forward.
This was his first time in Vegas.
Andrew had checked in at the casino a little while back. He'd booked into one of the cheapest rooms he could find, but he hadn't been disappointed—the room was a decent size, and had a sparkling clean feeling. His window overlooked the windows of another building across the street, but he didn’t mind; he'd hardly be in his room, he told himself.
Andrew was twenty-nine years old, and for the first time in his life, he was going to have fun.
He made his way over to the circular bar in the middle of the pit. Before he could stop himself, he ordered a soda with lime, and then realized his mistake. The bartender, a pretty young woman with long, straight black hair had gone off to mix his drink, so it was too late to change his order.
No more soda-limes in Vegas, he told himself. He was here to have fun—and didn’t people order lots of alcohol when they wanted to have fun?
“First time in Vegas?” asked a woman who'd sidled onto a seat next to him.
Andrew looked at her and nodded. “Just landed.”
The woman seemed to be in her early forties. She was plump, with puffy cheeks reddened by make-up. Her blond hair seemed artificially fluffed out, and her lips were glittering red. Something about the woman made Andrew shrink back, but she didn't seem to notice.
“My name’s Myra,” she said. “I come here all the time.”
Andrew didn't quite know what to say. He'd never been much of a talker, and when his drink arrived, he sipped it and pulled out his cell phone. He didn't feel like talking to Myra, and he checked his email. There were a few from the office, and Andrew decided he might as well reply to them.
“I can't believe you're working on vacation,” Myra said from beside him. Her drink, something red and sparkly in a tall glass, arrived. “Aren't you here to have some fun?”
Andrew turned and looked at her. “I am. Just as soon as I finish up my work.”
Myra rolled her eyes. “I know guys like you. Your work never stops.”
Myra seemed to notice someone, and waved in their direction, before grabbing her glass and sliding off.
Andrew followed her with his eyes—she was heading over to meet a group of three other women who looked eerily similar to her—puffed out faces, bright make-up, and fake-looking hair.
With a sinking heart, Andrew noticed that almost everyone in the casino was here with someone else. There were couples, and large groups of friends. The few single people seemed to quickly meet up with others, and they all laughed and chatted and relaxed into their surroundings.
Andrew, on the other hand, felt stiff and uneasy. It was probably time to start hitting the alcohol.
Just when Andrew was about to place an order for some kind of stiff drink—some cocktail, he decided, because wasn't that what people ordered on vacation?—a young man plopped down onto the seat Myra had vacated.
The man turned and grinned at Andrew. He had a large shock of curly red hair, freckled skin, and dancing green eyes.
“I hope this seat isn’t taken,” the young man said.
Andrew shook his head. Something about the man made him feel at ease, like he wasn't an intruder in this happy space. “No, I'm just here by myself.”
The bartender came over, and the man next to Andrew ordered a beer. “I'm here by myself too,” he said, when the bartender left to get his beer. “I’m supposed to meet a friend of mine, who works here as a dealer. Her shift ends in a bit. My name’s Ian.”
“Andrew.”
The two shook hands, and then Ian said, “How come you're here by yourself? Most of the tourists come in packs. Like wolves.”
Ian grinned and laughed at his own joke, and Andrew found himself joining in with the laughter. The joke wasn't funny, but Ian's laugh was infectious.
“I was supposed to come with a bunch of friends,” Andrew said. “It was Tony's bachelor party. But then the wedding got called off, so the bachelor party got canceled. I decided to come by myself anyway.”
Ian tapped his forehead with one finger. “Smart thinking. Never miss a trip to Vegas.”
“It's my first time, actually.” When the bartender came with Ian’s beer, Andrew took the plunge and ordered himself a martini. Wasn't that what James Bond drank? “I never really managed to take a proper vacation before this.”
Ian turned and looked at him with interest. “Too busy working?”
Andrew nodded. Ian was easy to talk to, and his green eyes were sympathetic. The story of Andrew’s life came flooding out. “I was the first in my family to go to college—I got a scholarship, but it only covered tuition. So I had to work
nights at a restaurant to cover my dorm fees. When all the college kids were out having fun, I was either studying so that my scholarship didn't get canceled, or working nights at the restaurant.”
“And then you got a job,” Ian supplied.
“Yeah. And then my parents died. I didn't know what else to do, so I kept working hard. I saved up some money, and I invested a bit, and I got promoted. And then somehow, I became the guy with no life. Everyone kept sending their work my way—not that I’m complaining. I did okay. I got a promotion or two, and now I make decent money.”
Ian grinned. “And now it's time to have some fun.”
Andrew’s martini arrived, and he took a sip. At client functions, he made sure to only drink red wine. Now, Andrew wasn't sure if he actually liked the martini or not. “For a few days,” Andrew said. “After that, it's back to work.”
“What do you usually do on vacations?”
“I've been buying some rundown properties to invest in. If I ever take time off work, I oversee those, and manage the tenants.”
Ian looked at Andrew appraisingly. “All work and no play…”
Andrew smiled. “Well I'm here now. I might take a few days off work every year from now on. If this vacation goes well, that is.”
Ian nodded. “What's your work?”
Andrew took a big gulp of his martini. “I'm an accountant,” he said sheepishly. For some reason, admitting to being a boring person who crunched numbers all day seemed embarrassing in this fun-filled place. “I know it sounds boring, but I guess it suits me.”
Ian smiled and nodded. His tone was friendly as he said, “It's a job, not a life. Not everyone wants to be a daredevil when they grow up.”
Andrew smiled with relief. “Exactly.” This young man seemed to understand him.
Despite being embarrassed about it, Andrew fit the stereotype of an accountant—he believed in numbers, he believed in logic, and he believed in hard work. Hard work seemed like a taboo concept these days, but Andrew still believed in it. A lot of his college classmates had wanted success to just drop into their laps, and had laughed at Andrew’s lack of an exciting life.
Ian looked off to his right, and something caught his eye. He took a large swig of his beer, and said, “I can see my friend now—her shift must be over. I'll see you around.”
“Hopefully,” Andrew said. “I think I like this bar. You can see almost all of the casino pit from here.”
The two men said goodbye, and then Ian jumped off his seat, and rushed toward a young woman wearing jeans and a T-shirt.
Andrew shrugged his shoulders. He’d probably never see Ian again, but at least the man had made him feel as though coming to Vegas by himself hadn't been a big mistake.
The night still had promise, and Andrew was determined to have a good time. Just because he was a boring accountant at home didn't mean he would be boring in Vegas.
It was time to shed his skin, and try something different.
Once Ian left, Andrew turned up and emptied his drink, and headed toward the Craps table.
That seemed to be the center of the action—a throng of people gathered around, cheering and whooping each time the dice were rolled. But big crowds, especially loud ones, made Andrew nervous. After two steps in that direction, he hesitated and watched the table. A few seconds later, the whoops stopped, and people slowly started leaving the table. The throws of the dice seemed to have become unfavorable.
Andrew decided to take that as a sign. He didn't believe in signs—he believed in logic and math. But since the casino didn’t seem like a place that embraced math and logic, he half-heartedly decided to take a stab at believing in luck.
But not too big a stab, just a little nick. Andrew decided that a slot machine, where he could spend a dollar or two trying to make back a few more dollars, was just what he needed to ease into gambling.
He headed toward a section of the floor that seemed dedicated to slot machines, and glanced around timidly. The young people, the crowd who seemed far too cool for folks like him, were nowhere to be seen in this part of the casino. Instead, a middle-aged couple chatted and laughed, and a kindly-looking woman with curly white hair smiled at him.
Andrew picked his slot machine, and stared at it nervously. It was no big deal. He just needed to spend a dollar, and even if he lost, it wouldn't be a big deal.
Before he inserted his token, a pretty girl in a cocktail waitress uniform appeared by side. “Would you like a drink?” she said.
Andrew was going to say no—he wasn't a big drinker, and he’d already had one martini tonight. But the girl's voice was sweet and lilting, and he turned to look at her.
She was a petite, skinny young thing, wearing high heels and lots of make-up. Her blond hair was pulled back, and Andrew could see the dark roots showing through. There seemed to be something naïve and innocent about her, and Andrew smiled.
“I would like a drink,” he said. “I'm a bit nervous about my luck.”
“What would you like?”
“A martini,” Andrew said, deciding to stick with the same drink for tonight.
“Coming up, James Bond,” the girl said with a smile. She fluttered her eyelids at him, and disappeared.
When the girl reappeared and started walking toward him with his drink, Andrew finally inserted the token. To his surprise, a trio of cherries lined up on the screen, and a celebratory tune rang out.
Andrew turned to the girl in surprise and took the proffered drink. “I can't believe it! I've never been lucky in my entire life.”
The girl’s eyes twinkled. Her nametag said Charlene, and she glanced at the screen.
“You won ten dollars,” she said, smiling at Andrew politely. “Maybe your luck will continue tonight.”
Andrew took a large swig of his drink. “I think you're my lucky charm. I've never been lucky, but now that you've appeared, things seem to have changed.”
Charlene shrugged modestly. “Are you sure I’m your lucky charm? It's only ten dollars. If you really feel lucky, you should try the big shooter slot machine up in front. The main prize is five hundred thousand dollars.”
Andrew raised one eyebrow. That was a few times his annual salary—what would he do if he won that money?
The logical Andrew would buy a few more investment properties; perhaps the lucky Andrew would quit his job, move to Vegas, and become a professional gambler. He grinned to himself. What an appealing dream.
“If you really are my lucky charm,” Andrew said, “I can't just let you get away, or all my luck will be gone.”
“But maybe I'm not your lucky charm.”
“Why don’t I try the slot machine,” Andrew said, “and if I win the five hundred thousand dollars, we can go out for a drink after your shift ends. What do you say?”
Charlene giggled. “Sure, if you win the five hundred thousand.”
Andrew downed his martini quickly, and rushed over to the slot machine Charlene had pointed out. He took a deep breath—he'd never believed in luck before. But tonight—ever since he’d met Charlene—there seemed to be something in the air. He hadn't had time to date in college, and since getting a job, he'd never been in a serious relationship. Perhaps now that he'd met Charlene, that would change.
Andrew inserted his token in the slot machine, and held his breath as the images spun before him.
Slowly, they stopped moving. As if in a dream, Andrew saw the three cherries line up in one straight row.
A jingle began to play. It sounded like falling coins, interspersed with whoops and cheers. A crowd began to gather around Andrew, and he turned around, scanning the distance for Charlene. Their eyes met, and Andrew grinned happily.
A date with Charlene would be worth far more than the prize money he’d just won.
Chapter 1
My shift had been uneventful—well, at least uneventful compared to my last few shifts when fistfights had broken out, two drunk men had vomited all over the casino rug, and a woman had walked up
to her husband, thrown a Cosmopolitan in his face, and accused him of having an affair with the svelte brunette on his arm.
I made a quick pit-stop at the employee locker room, where I changed out of my red and black dealer's uniform and into a tunic top and leggings. I grabbed my large tote bag, and headed out of the employees’ room and over to the lobby of the Treasury Casino. I was a few paces away from the main entrance when I spotted my friend Ian lounging in one of the oversized leather armchairs.
He was sunk back in the chair, looking half-asleep as his eyes drifting lazily across the sea of people.
I hadn’t been expecting to see him tonight, and for a split second, I narrowed my eyes. Why was Ian here? Was something wrong? But Ian looked far too relaxed for anything to be wrong. Maybe he’d come to hang out at the casino like he sometimes does.
Ian is my neighbor and lives down the hall. We met a while back when I was on the run from a homicidal maniac, and since then, I haven't been able to shake him off.
At first, I'd found his perpetual enthusiasm and over-the-top excitement about life kind of irritating. Even more annoying was the fact that he insisted he wanted to be a private investigator, just like me, and he kept trying to tag along on cases.
But after we worked together on a few cases, I found myself getting used to his presence, and actually feeling grateful for his attempts at being a detective. Gradually, I started to think of Ian less as the annoying person I couldn’t shake off, and more as the slightly immature younger brother I'd never really had.