All Eyes on Me (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 1)

by Linsey Lanier

  She squeezed his hand and bobbed it up and down for emphasis. “What if we’re wrong?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if Scott is telling the truth? What if he had nothing to do with either murder?”

  He gave her a dark look. “Do you really believe that?”

  She didn’t want to tell him about her dream. It made her feel like she needed a crutch. As if she couldn’t solve a case on her own.

  “Don’t you want to see the girls?” he said gently.

  How dare he bring them up? She pulled her hand out of his with a scowl. “You know damn well I haven’t seen Wendy or Mackenzie for months.”

  She watched his jaw tighten as he pressed his lips together. “But you ought to think of them, Miranda. They’re your children.”

  “Neither of them is really my child.” Not in the sense of Miranda being a day-to-day mom. They both knew what she meant and what the situation was.

  “Nonetheless, you have to consider the implications of the risks you take.”

  Her temper spiked. “What are you saying? That finishing this case is too risky because of Mackenzie and Wendy?”

  “I weigh risk every time I take on a case.” He was referring to his long and successful career as a PI.

  Parker had had two children. One by his first wife, one he’d taken into his home out of the goodness of his heart. And yet he took a hell of a lot of risks. And now he was throwing Mackenzie and Wendy in her face? Implying she was being reckless because she wasn’t thinking of them?

  “That’s a low blow, Parker.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.” His voice was calm and patient.

  She ground her teeth and glared at him. She knew perfectly well what he was doing. Protecting her, the way he always had. If it were months ago, she’d tell him to go to hell and walk straight out the door.

  But now?

  She took a deep breath and gave herself a minute to calm down. And to come up with an idea. Two could play this sneaky detective game. She twisted her lips into a pout she hoped didn’t look too unnatural and took his hand. “I don’t know…”

  “What is it?”

  “We’re in Las Vegas. I didn’t want to go home until we took in some of the sights.” She smiled her best wifely smile.

  He eyed her suspiciously. “What would you like to do?”

  He had to know she was up to something, but he couldn’t resist giving into her whims. Besides, he probably thought he could talk her out of any plan she might come up with.

  Problem was, she didn’t have a plan. If Blythe Star and Sean Scott weren’t the killers, she had no idea who was. She’d just have to keep Parker busy until she did.

  She scooted out of bed, sashayed over to the window and pointed at the needle-shaped building, the tallest one in the skyline. “I’d like to see what’s at the top of that casino.”

  “The Stratosphere?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “That’s the second tallest in the Western Hemisphere.”

  “Uh huh.” She turned around and gave him a flirtatious grin. “And they have rides up there, don’t they?”

  With a defeated groan Parker got to his feet. “Get dressed.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  He let her go on all the rides. One called Insanity, that dangled and spun her more than a thousand feet over the city. The Big Shot Ride that made her giggle and shriek as it yanked her up a hundred and sixty feet atop the tall casino tower. The X-Scream that felt like a cross between a teeter-totter and a roller coaster. And her absolute favorite, the Sky Jump, a bungee jump off the top of the Stratosphere. What a rush.

  Parker opted to watch but afterwards, he took her to the revolving restaurant and marveled at her as she wolfed down a filet and a Canadian lobster with the works. Maybe it was because they’d skipped breakfast, but the adrenaline rush and yelling her head off had given her a monstrous appetite.

  Chewing a tender piece of meat, she gazed out the huge beveled window toward the west and Costa Rica Hills and concentrated on what she was really after.

  What was she missing?

  Sean Scott was a womanizer, boinking three different women either in short succession or at the same time. If Blythe Star killed her sister and Scott helped, and he thought the police were zeroing in on her, he’d realize it would only be a matter of time before she gave him up. If she told him that’s what she was going to do, it would stand to reason he’d be mad as hell at her. Especially if he’d only been using her all along and found out he was the one who’d really been used.

  But why would a self-centered ladies man let himself get into that position in the first place? Blythe invites him over and says, “Hey baby, I want to knock off my bitchy sister but I need someone to hoist her body into the trunk of my car. Can you help me out?”

  Even if Scott had been really pissed about the way Ambrosia treated Suzie Chan, he wouldn’t risk going to jail. Not for someone who was just a fuck buddy. Not for a rebound from his old girlfriend.

  Last night it had made so much sense but today with the bright sun in her eyes, it all rang hollow. So what was she missing? She asked herself again. Who else knew about the tea? That Ambrosia would be alone in the kitchen? And where to get abrin? Who else was pissed off enough at her to risk everything?

  “Penny for your thoughts?” She turned to see Parker’s cold stare. He’d read her mind, as he so often did.

  But she dismissed it and lifted a shoulder. “Just taking in the sights.”

  “They are seductive, aren’t they?” He tossed down his napkin and studied her.

  She could tell he knew her mind was still on the case. But where did he expect it to be? He was the one who’d made her a professional, after all.

  She just smiled and swallowed the last bite of her meal. “Are you sure you don’t want to try the X-Scream?”

  “I’ll pass. We need to get going.”

  Damn. She needed more time.

  Back in the car, she managed to talk him into taking her to see the white tigers and after that going on a monorail ride halfway around the city. That ate up several hours. On their way out of the station, she was about to suggest Madame Tussauds when Parker insisted on calling it quits and she caved. But it was okay.

  By the time the sun was getting low on the horizon and they were back in the hotel suite, Miranda knew who her next suspect was.

  # # #

  Miranda watched Parker pull out their suitcases from the closet and lay them on the bed. She couldn’t let him get her on that plane. Not yet. Think. Tapping her fingers against her crossed arms, she eyed a brochure sitting on one of the nightstands.

  “Hey,” she said, picking it up. “There’s a UFC fight tonight at the MGM.”

  He reached for a suit. “We have a plane to catch.”

  She stuck out her lower lip and gave him her best imitation of a baby doll look.

  He tossed the suit on the bed in disgust. “Miranda. You don’t pout.”

  Had her there. “I do want to see it.”

  “And what else do you want?”

  She sank down on the mattress next to the suitcases and dropped the cutie-pie act. “I want to check something out. It shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

  His expression turned dark. “About the case?”

  “Yeah. I just want to make sure we’ve tied up some loose ends.”

  He studied her with a measured look, the lines in his handsome face growing deeper. His jaw was tight. His sexy salt-and-pepper hair seemed grayer in the moonlight from the window. He seemed wiser than ever. He was probably right. They probably had the killer in custody. But she just couldn’t let it go.

  “And it will only take an hour?” he said at last.

  Her hear soared, but she forced herself to sound casual. “It shouldn’t. I just want to cross some t’s, dot some i’s, you know?” And if she found something, she was sure he’d change his mind and stay to pursue it. “So why don’t you check on those ticket
s while I run this little errand?”

  “Very well. I’ll see you back here in an hour.” He turned back to his packing.

  “Okay.”

  Miranda picked up the car keys from the dresser and decided the jeans and light shirt she’d worn on the rides would do. She gave Parker a peck on the cheek and headed out the door, surprised he hadn’t even asked where she was going. He probably assumed she was heading back to the police station. She would get there, but she had a little detour to make first.

  As the glass elevator doors opened in the hall, she realized Parker hadn’t needed to ask where she was headed. He would be tracking her whereabouts on her phone.

  That sneaky bastard. No wonder she loved him so much.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  She found the Blue Palm Lounge on East Desert Inn near the Wynn Resort. As soon as Miranda stepped into the place, she was plunged into the dark, smoky 24-7 party atmosphere that made you forget if it was noon or night outside.

  Not that she was surprised by that. She wasn’t a stranger to bars. She knew their vibes, their typical décor, their often seedy clientele. Even in Las Vegas, they were about the same, she expected. And as bars went, this one wasn’t a dive but it wasn’t ultra-chic either.

  Polished tables, fairly clean. Decorative red and blue neon lights streaming around the perimeter. A row of slot machines along one wall. Behind the bar backlit glass shelves holding multi-shaped bottles gave off a subtle, muted quality that made you feel like you were in another world.

  Ah, the allure of booze. Stay up all night and drink your troubles away. If only life were so easy.

  The patrons seemed on the sparse side for a Saturday night, but it was still early and she guessed there was a lot of competition in this town.

  Miranda slid onto a stool near a bar-top video poker machine that advertised free drinks if you won.

  A burly bartender in a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his bulky biceps was wiping the bar’s polished surface. He shot her a toothy grin. “What’ll you have?”

  Miranda smiled back. No need not to be friendly. “I’m wondering if there’s a Reedy Max here?”

  The smile faded and he studied his polishing job instead. “What do you want with her?”

  Her? Reedy Max was a woman? Interesting. “A mutual friend told me to look her up if I was ever in town.” No need to show your hand too early.

  The bartender stopped wiping and cocked his head at her. But instead of giving her a hard time, he turned and headed for the back.

  Miranda was afraid he’d return with a shotgun and run her off. Instead a woman emerged from the door he’d disappeared into. An average-sized, busty woman clad in low-cut black leather.

  She sauntered over. “Are you the one asking for me?”

  Miranda gave her a bland look. “Are you Reedy Max?”

  She echoed Miranda’s expression. “None other. Welcome to my place.” Her voice was low and husky, like someone who’d smoked way too many cigarettes in her lifetime.

  She owned the bar? Must have done well as Cameron Forest’s business associate.

  Reedy Max moved in close to study Miranda. Her bare arms were tattooed and looked in pretty good shape. Lots of makeup. Glittery blue shadow. Thick black mascara. Lots of studs on the leather. Lots of heavy bling around her neck. Long, spiky earrings dangling from under a too teased ’do. Her hair was either platinum blond with black streaks or jet-black with platinum blond streaks. Miranda wasn’t sure but she looked to be in her late-fifties. What some men might call a tough old broad.

  Miranda noted a dark mole on her left cheek and wondered if the woman had been a Marilyn Monroe impersonator in her heyday.

  She leaned a strong-looking arm on the bar. “What’s your pleasure?”

  Miranda met her hard gaze. “I’ll take a root beer.”

  “You want a little Jack Daniels in that?”

  “No, thanks. I’m working.”

  Instead of getting the drink, she eyed her up and down, probably thinking “working” meant she was a prostitute. Miranda took a card out of her pocket and slid it across the bar.

  The woman picked it up, pursed her lips back and forth as she examined it. “Oh, yeah. I saw you on the news last night.” The infamous press conference. “You’re looking into Ambrosia Dawn’s murder.” She handed the card back.

  Miranda put it back in her pocket. “I am. I understand you used to work with Cameron Forest. Ambrosia Dawn’s husband?”

  “Maybe.”

  “That’s what he told me.”

  “So what of it?”

  “I just want to ask a few questions about his…family life.”

  Reedy Max studied her a long while with her street-wise gaze then turned to grab a glass and fill it with ice and root beer. She put it down in front of Miranda. “What do you want to know? I’m always happy to help the police.”

  Yeah, right. But at least she had gotten to first base. She’d see if she could get a little farther. “How long have you known Cameron Forest?”

  Reedy Max gave a disinterested shrug. “We go way back. He tell you I used to be his manager?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  Studying her again, the woman played absently with an earring, sizing up her interrogator, deciding how much she ought to say. “He used to do Elvis,” she said at last. “I got him jobs all up and down the Strip. He was better than most and believe me, I’ve seen them all come and go.” She sounded fond of her protégé.

  Miranda stirred the root beer with her swizzle stick. “But he couldn’t make a go of it?”

  “He could have if he’d stuck with it and listened to me. But no, he had to go after the big fish.” She blinked and looked away, as if she knew she’d said too much.

  Miranda pounced. “You didn’t care for Ambrosia Dawn?”

  “In my opinion…” she stopped herself and slid her gaze over to the burly dude, who was serving someone at the other end of the bar. Her expression said she was wrestling with her thoughts. Wouldn’t do for a bar owner in this town to get in trouble for not cooperating with the authorities. And maybe her opinion of Ambrosia Dawn wasn’t so secret. Maybe she didn’t keep her opinions to herself, though she probably wished she had at the moment. But if those opinions could be easily confirmed by her employees, it wouldn’t do to fudge the truth. Not when the police were involved.

  The woman eyed her cautiously then raised a long, black-painted fingernail. “I’m sorry she’s gone. Really. No one deserves to bite the big one that young. And especially the way she went.” She paused for a breath. “But I can’t say she lived a good life or anything like that. Anyone who knew her knew she was a hotheaded, self-centered prima donna. If you’re investigating the case you’ve got to know that already.”

  Smart lady. Miranda sipped her drink and let Reedy go on.

  Shaking her head the woman picked up the rag Burly Dude had left on the counter and began wiping. “I warned Cameron not to hook up with that woman when he met her. ‘She’s trouble,’ I said to him. That boy deserved better.”

  “He didn’t listen.”

  She uttered a husky smirk. “Hell, no. They met at a party one night, she started coming to his shows and three months later, they were hitched.”

  Miranda stirred her drink some more. “He was with her for eight years. They must have had a decent relationship.”

  “He loved her all right,” she snarled. “No matter how much of a bitch she was. But I think she only stayed with him because of the work Cameron did for her. He has a good head for business. Thank God he had enough sense to become her manager so she wouldn’t take him for a ride. I hope he got a good chuck of change from her estate.”

  Was Cameron Forest after his wife’s inheritance? That didn’t seem to play. She had to be careful how she phrased herself now. “I think you’re right. He seemed pretty broken up about losing Ambrosia when I spoke to him. Guess he was the only one who got along with her.”

&nbs
p; She tossed the rag into a sink and smirked. “He bitched about that woman all the time. Oh, the fights they had. He told me he didn’t think he could stay with her much longer, but I knew he’d never leave her.”

  “He wanted to leave because of her temper?”

  “Because of his son.”

  Son? Miranda remembered Cameron mentioning the kid was from a former marriage. She’d wondered whether he was still pining after his first wife. “What did his son have to do with it?”

  “He’s a sixteen-year-old kid. Been tossed around ever since Cameron’s first wife left him. They’ve had nannies and tutors when they went on tour, put him in public school when they were here. Now he’s starting to get into trouble, hanging with the wrong crowd, you know?”

  Miranda nodded. Oh, yeah, she knew. “He didn’t have a good relationship with his stepmother?”

  “From what Cameron said, Abbey wasn’t very nice to the kid.”

  Miranda stiffened. “What did she do to him?”

  “Cameron never would say, but it wasn’t good from what I could guess.”

  That certainly would be motive. Knock off your wife to save your son. Get her inheritance as a nice bonus. She took another sip of the root beer and prepared herself to change tactics. If Cameron Forest was responsible for his wife’s death, she had to have more than the idle talk of a middle-aged barmaid.

  She cleared her throat and tried to sound like a friend instead of an investigator looking for a killer. “This past Tuesday night. Cameron told me he came to see you after the rehearsal.”

  Reedy straightened. She knew this was getting serious. “Yeah, he stopped by here for a drink.”

  “What kind of mood was he in?”

  She looked around for her rag, but it was already in the sink. For a moment she looked as if she wanted to toss Miranda out, then thought better of it. “He was upset. That woman had pitched another fit. She was furious at her poor sister.”

  “Blythe Star?”

  “Right. I met her a couple of times when she came in here. She’s a sweet thing. And she had to put up with absolute shit from that woman. How could she treat her own flesh and blood like that, I’ll never understand.”