Stroke of Genius (Archie Lemons #3)

by Grant Fieldgrove

  "Deal."

  Well that was easy. Didn't even have to offer him five bucks. Whoop!

  Thirty minutes later we are in the surveillance room, looking at a huge wall of televisions, people filling every screen from all angles. It's overwhelming and hard to take in. Mulroney tells us to take a seat so he can share with us what he has so far. I can feel my heart pumping hard in my chest. I can't wait.

  "All our cases are labeled and saved," Mulroney said. "We actually have your case here, too."

  "We'd love to take a look at everything you have," Elise said.

  The main television sitting directly in front of us flickered, turned to a snowstorm, then returned with a freeze frame of Balls stepping on to an elevator.

  "Here is your boy, I believe."

  "That looks like him," I said, "but I can't be sure."

  "It is," Mulroney assured me. "We have his entire evening on record here. This, unfortunately, is where we lose him. Once he steps on to the elevator it's the last we see of him."

  "Are you kidding me? There are no cameras on the elevator or on the floors?"

  "I'm afraid to say there were no cameras in the elevator aside from the emergency camera that is only on when the emergency button is hit. Even then, the camera is only located above the buttons and doesn't give an entire view of the area. And no, we have no cameras on the floors, except near the emergency stairwells and those are on a motion sensor."

  "Okay, so no camera on the elevator. No camera on the floors. But the keycards keep a record every time the doors are unlocked, yes?"

  "Yes, except for maids and maintenance. They have passkeys which don't work the same as the guests’ keys. Guests keys are registered and logged, staff keys are not."

  "So what is the deal with your case, detective?" Elise asked. "Explain to me the problems you're having?"

  "Well Ms.-"

  "Reynolds."

  "Ms. Reynolds, yes. This woman claims she was taken from our hotel Tuesday morning, beaten and raped, left for dead. She is now suing us. What we need to do is either solve who did it, or prove that she was not taken from here, as opposed to somewhere else? Do you understand? If she was taken somewhere besides on our property, we obviously wouldn't be liable for it."

  "I understand that you have to doubt everyone, but why do you doubt her? Make sense?"

  "I suppose so, Ms. Reynolds. The biggest obstacle we have in front of us is that no one knows where she went. No one ever saw her leave the hotel. We have gone over hours and hours of video footage, we locate her several times throughout the night, and even follow her to the elevator, where she assumedly goes to her room. That is the last we see of her. The next time anyone sees her she is in a field, raped."

  "So what are you thinking?" I ask.

  "I don't know what I am thinking."

  "Was she smuggled out in a maids cart or laundry hamper?" Elise asks.

  "I certainly hope not. That is another reason for our investigation. If it were members of this staff who did it, it would be extremely damaging to us."

  "I understand," Elise said, "but you can't rule it out. We'll get to the bottom of this."

 

  "Maybe this is a scam, maybe she left the hotel in a disguise," I suggested. "It could happen."

  "We thought of that as well. We looked at everyone on the video."

 

  "Okay, do you mind if we have a look at this for a while. We tend to work best when it's just the two of us."

  "Very well."

  He gave us a brief run-through of how all the cameras worked and how to operate them correctly. He also loaded one screen with our boy and another screen with our rape victim. I informed him I knew how to work this system and if I had any questions I would call him. He agreed then left. We got to work.

  13.

  "Okay," I start, "this woman, Leslie, our rape victim, said in her statement that she was attacked by two men. Did anyone tell us where she said she was attacked?"

  "No, it just says in the hotel."

  "Well crap. Okay, and then what? That's all she can remember? She blacked out?"

  "Yeah, she was attacked in the hotel, blacked out, woke up to being raped, blacked out again, then was eventually found. No descriptions on either of the men. She said she simply couldn't remember. Everything was fine and then she got attacked. Two guys, that’s all we know."

  "Okay, then I guess we start looking for two guys."

  "How the hell are we going to do that?" Elise asked, in a rather sarcastic tone of voice, one that I was not too fond of even though I practically invented it.

  "Simple. By eliminating everyone else."

  "Shit. That sounds boring."

  "Oh yeah, baby, by the end of this shit you'll be begging to watch The Tree of Life just for a little excitement."

  "Never again!"

  I rewound the camera and took us to when Leslie first entered the hotel late the night before. She was staying at the Mayra with another woman; they were there on a getaway similar to our clients'. Her friend, however, apparently met a man at Caesar's Palace that night and decided to take up residence with him for the remainder of the evening, resulting in Leslie taking the long walk back to this hotel alone.

  The video was put together rather nicely, I must say. The screen flickered as different cameras tracked her every movement throughout the entire casino floor, very rarely ever losing sight of her. She sat at a blackjack table, where apparently she had some pretty good luck. She stayed there for three hours, according to the time stamp on the video.

  Elise read my mind and wrote in her notebook, Possible Robbery Attempt. I glanced down at the paper and told her good work. She gave me a wink.

  After Leslie left the table, she cashed in her chips at the cashier window then went to the closest bar and sat down. The camera cut away from the blackjack table too soon for us to see if anyone got up right after her. I had memorized every single person who sat at the table, though, and would look for them throughout the course of that night.

  After she finished her drink at the bar she stood up, grabbed her purse and headed off screen. The video said it was 7:05am. Our boy had already gone up to his room and I never caught sight of him on any of Leslie's videos. I told Elise and she scribbled down more notes.

  At 7:09am on Tuesday morning, Leslie made her way to the elevator, pushed the button and waited. At 7:10 she stepped on to the elevator. Just as the doors we're closing, a rather large man, fat not muscular, and rather tall, came into the picture, waving his hand. Leslie reached her hand out to stop the doors from closing, allowing the man to step on. The man appears to give her his thanks and Leslie is seen giving him a polite smile and saying something back to him. Still 7:10 and the doors to the elevator close and the cameras never capture Leslie again. Couple hours later she is left for dead in a field.

  At least we had a time frame.

  My eyes had already begun to burn from staring at the screen for so long. Elise suggested we take a break, go back up to the room for a bit and relax. I agreed, even though I wasn't looking forward to the elevator ride. Elise had an idea.

  We exited the surveillance room and made our way back out to the lobby, crossing the secretary's desk and telling her we would be back shortly. She said there would always be someone here, as this was a 24 hour racket. We thanked her and made our way out into the land of hopelessness and desperation, the casino.

  Elise told me to follow her and we once again wove our way through crowds of idiots dropping their family’s Christmas money on a roll of the dice and entered a small souvenir store. Elise purchased a bottle of Southern Comfort.

  "Here is the solution to your elevator problem." She removed the cap and handed me the bottle. "Take a shot. I'll keep the bottle in my purse for all your elevator needs."

  I did as I was instructed, though slightly against my will. I took two swigs. "This is stupid," I said. "This is NOT going to work."
>
  It worked.

  My head felt a little lighter when we got back to my room. I've been drunk before but never in public (last night doesn’t really count, as Elise was the sloppy drunk one, not me.) Fact was, I wasn't really a big drinker at all. I've had a few vodka-Redbulls while staking out some joints from time to time, but nothing that would really intoxicate me. I needed to be alert and on my feet at all times. But what the hell, it's Vegas.

  Elise went into her bedroom to call the kids and talk to Jamie. We decided we couldn't spend too long on this case and we needed to ensure Jamie that we wouldn't be pulling another Beach Trip on her. School would be getting out for Christmas Vacation soon and we certainly didn't want to miss the holidays at home with the boys. Apparently, everything went well and Elise exited the room with a smile on her face. It was my turn to call Vince and let him know we may have found a lead, but to not get his hopes up. It was still a long shot.

  I called and he seemed pleased. As pleased as could be, I suppose. His heartbreak was evident.

  We decided to call it a night on the investigation and head down to the casino to hang out for a bit. I agreed. Elise pulled the bottle of SoCo from her purse and waved it back and forth for me. I took three quick drinks then we made our way to the elevator, taking three more chugs upon arrival. By the time we hit the ground floor and I handed a half-empty bottle back to Elise, my legs felt wobbly and I'm pretty sure I was speaking gibberish.

  I had my secret money in my wallet and was ready to go play some cards when Elise's cell phone rang. We stopped so she could answer it. She didn't recognize the number.

  "Hello... Oh Hi!" She covered the speaker with her palm and mouthed JIM to me, then went back to talking.

  Jim. Elise's blind date.

  That little pimple.

  That little thigh-chafe.

  That speck of food stuck between your teeth that cuts and bloodies your tongue because you can’t stop trying to flick it out.

  That stupid...guy! Ugh!

  I didn't want to hear it. I stumbled out on my Jell-O legs onto the casino floor and found a table with a few empty seats. I threw down two hundred bucks and the dealer gave me eight green chips in return. I placed a fifty dollar bet and the dealer flipped over a 21. God damn it.

  I played for a few minutes more, losing every hand, and noticed everyone seated at the table with me had picked up their chips and departed. Fine, who needs 'em. I'll play by myself.

  Two more losing hands later and a woman comes and sits next to me. She leans into my ear and says Hey.

  "Hey" I say. That’s about as wordy as I get with females I don't know.

  "Winning?" she asked.

  "Nope."

  "Oh, too bad. You want to get out of here? Maybe go have a little fun?"

 

  I turned my attention from my cards to the woman sitting next to me. I noticed she didn't have any chips out and had no idea what she was doing.

  "What the hells it look like I'm doing right now, lady?" At least that's the way it sounded in my head.

  "It looks like you're losing, hon. How about you come with me and start winning?"

  "Are you good at cardths or thomething?"

  "Yeah, or something."

  My brain, swimming in a pool of booze, came up with a brilliant idea. I'd be seen hanging out with this girl, thus making Elise extremely jealous. I'm pretty sure that is how jealousy worked. It was brilliant. That'll teach her to take phone calls from stupid Jim. Jim the...Dim! Yeah, more like DIM! Up yours DIM! I stood and realized I was quite a bit more drunk than before. My legs nearly gave out and I leaned into the woman for whom I was to be hanging out. She caught me and said something along the lines of EASY. I felt like a bobble-head. I looked up at her and said "Whasss your name, lady?"

  "Gena, honey. My name is Gena."

  "Hi Gena Honey. My name is Gena." I laughed at my clever joke. She did not. "I’m hungry. You hungry? I hungry. Leth's get food."

  "That's not really what I had in mind, babe."

  "Need food. Restaurant. Buffet. Lesgo. Fuggin A!"

  "You're the boss, Sugar."

  ***

  Fifteen minutes later we are sitting at a booth at a 24-Hour buffet in our hotel. The very same buffet Elise had suggested earlier. For some reason it wasn't bothering me. I thought of it as progress. I could feel my head finding its footing upon my neck as I began to sober up. I thought. I checked my phone. I had several missed calls from Elise and several texts. She didn't seem happy with me. I wrote her back telling her where I was.

  "So Gena, huh?"

  "Yep, that’s me. Thanks for the dinner."

  "Yeah, no thweat. Be right back." I got up to stumbled to the bathroom. Hitting the water at the bottom of the toilet bowl proved to be far more difficult than I remembered. Shit got pretty wild in there. When I left not even the flush handle was dry. Oops. I was gone five minutes and returned to Gena still sitting there.

  "I'm back!" I proclaimed.

  "I see that. Again, doll, thanks for the dinner. I don’t usually eat this much. Ya know, always on a diet…”

  “Psh, diet shmiet. Did you know I invented my own diet?”

  “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

  “It’s the Archie Lemons Diet.”

  “Okay, doll, but what does the diet consist of?”

  “Oh! Well, you see this t-shirt I am wearing?”

  “Yes…I don’t know what Dharma means, but alright.”

  “It’s from Lost. Not important. Anyway, this shirt, I’m pretty well known for wearing it. In fact, I usually wear pretty much the same ten or fifteen or so t-shirts.”

  “What’s this have to do with a diet, babe?”

  “The point is, people recognize my t-shirts. So, let’s say I pack on a few pounds, or am supposed to be dieting, or whatever the case may be. The Archie Lemon’s Diet consists of me going out and buying these same shirts…in a larger size. So next week, let’s say I buy an extra-large Dharma shirt and wear it and people notice it’s a little loose on me. That’s when I say, ‘Oh yeah, ya know, I’ve been workin' out…watching what I eat.’ See, booya! Diet success!”

  “Wow…that’s actually…genius.”

  "Thank ya! Oh look," I said, and Gena turned her head to see Elise walking up to us. She looked not-happy. Not happy at all.

  "Are you fucking kidding me?!" she snapped at me.

  "Oh god," Gena said. "I didn't know he-"

  "Don't worry, I'm not his girlfriend."

  "We were just playing cards together and dethided to get thome food. Elise, this is Gena, Gena, Elise."

  "Hi," Gena said as she extended her arm out for a friendly shake. Elise backed up like Gena was waving a stick with dog poo on it.

 

  "Sit down, E. Please."

  She did, and she sat down next to me, which I took as a good sign.

  Silence.

  I tried to start some friendly banter. "So, Gena. I once met a girl named Gina."

  "Oh yeah?" she replied, with genuine excitement in her eyes.

  "Yeah, she worked at The Gap down in Beverly Hills. We were there a few years ago. She rang me up for my underwear."

  "And you remember her?"

  "I remember everybody. Hey, Gena, have you ever noticed on sitcoms whenever a new character is guest starring or introduced and they have the same name as a pre-existing character, there will always end up being some whacky misunderstanding concerning to two same-named people?"

  Gena's eyes shot wide open again and she exclaimed, "Oh my god! You are so right! That is so true!"

  "Yeah, it's kinda what I do," I say, with no modesty whatsoever. "I spot these sitcom clichés all the time. Like, whenever a sitcom character gets an important phone call, they always act like it’s bad news but then they hang up and yell that they got the job, or whatever. "

  "Wow. Just wow." She looked at Elise, "Right?"

  Elise answered
with a silent, blank stare.

  "Oh," I continued, enjoying my moment in the spotlight, "I have a million of them. I'm actually thinking about writing a book. Whatta ya think? Sitcom's Greatest Clichés!"

  "Oh man, wow, I would totally buy that book!"

  "Oh yeah?

  "Fuck yes, for sure! It sounds amazing!"

  "Oh, it totally would be. Like, you ever notice that every character owns a tuxedo? Whenever the situation calls for it, boom!, they have a tuxedo. Always. Or like, you ever notice in sitcoms whenever there is a gang or a group of the bad kids, they always have to have at least one member of every major race? Right?"

  "Oh my god, that’s so true! So true!" She was laughing so hard I heard a snort. She slammed her palm down on the counter, rattling the glasses, from her fit of hysterics. Emotions have never been my strong suit, and jealously was confusing to me, as I could never figure out, exactly, how it felt. It was the one the emotion that confused me the most and I hated it. But right now my mission was to make Elise jealous. So jealous. As jealous as I perhaps was. I'm pretty sure I was succeeding. How could I not be? This attractive woman sitting across from me was hanging on my every word. I decided to press on.