Stroke of Genius (Archie Lemons #3)

by Grant Fieldgrove

  "We don't have much time left here, ya know."

  She was right. We had to be back on the road by tomorrow night at the latest. Sorry, Tom Jones, but Elliot has his Christmas program at school on Friday and there was no way in hell we were are to miss it. After that, it was the politically correct WINTER BREAK. We had twenty four hours to solve two cases with very little leads.

  Things weren't looking promising. I wanted some dinner. We decided to call it a night so we could order some room service and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow would, more than likely, be a very long day.

  18.

  We went to bed fairly early, which was good for me since I was exhausted from the night before. We showered and got dressed, getting ready for our day. We also packed our bags, thinking it would be better to be able to work as late as possible, then just grab our stuff and leave when the time came. I removed my sheets from the bed and replaced them with the proper, Vegas Style, Crab-Infested linens. On our way out, I pushed the room service tray out into the hallway, giving it a good once over, making sure there was no way to smuggle a body out on it. There wasn't. Damn.

  We made our way back down to the security office to scrutinize more boring video footage. Once we arrived and took our seats, my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number.

  "Hello," I answer.

  "Hey honey," a woman's throaty voice cackles at me.

  "Um, hey. Sorry, who's this?"

  "It's Gena, baby, what are you doing?"

  "Gena?"

  Elise stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me, eyes wide with half anger, half disgust...and I guess another half of disbelieve.

  (Three halves, whatever, that’s possible in Vegas.)

  "Gena..." I continued, "From the Gap in Beverly Hills?" My face had contorted to what I could only imagine as a look of pure fright. My eyes were clenched tight and I actually realized two of my fingers on my left hand were crossed.

  (Please be Gina from the Gap please be Gina from the gap.)

  (That’s stupid, why would Gina from The Gap call you?)

  (Oh my god, is phone herpes possible?)

  (Ohmygodohmygod)

 

  "No baby, Gena from the other night. Remember, you took me to dinner? Wined me, dined me but you never six-"

  (ohmygod!)

  "Gena! Oh my god," I yelled, cutting her off before she could finish that sentence, the sentence that would make my ears bleed for all eternity. "What...? Wait...How...? Why...? How...did you get my number?"

  "You gave me your card, silly. Told me to call you anytime. You don't remember?"

  I looked towards Elise who put her hands up in defeat and began to scoot away in her chair.

  "Ohhh...yeah...sure I do. Sure I do. So, um, whatcha dooooin?"

  "Oh nothing, I'm just bored, ya know. I'm working your casino, thought I'd give ya a call. I ain't even slept yet, ya know. Had nothin' goin’ for me last night. Buncha fuckin' deadbeats around here on a weeknight. Only time a weeknight is good for me lately is when there's one of them big conventions in town, ya know? This place hosts a lot of them. So does Mandalay Bay. There was a big one here last week. It was great. That's good money right there. Those poor ol' bastards are desperate and lonely; they'll pay anything for a slice of ol' Gena." She tried to laugh at her own witty joke but it ended up coming out as some rancid, wet and phlegmy smoker’s cough that seemed to go on for about a minute and a half. I wanted to drop my phone in bleach. Scratch that, I wanted to drop it in a mixture of bleach and ammonia, and breath in the heavenly fumes to enjoy that sweet relief only death can bring. I had another idea though.

  "Hey Gena," I said, (holy shit, Elise is going to kill me…) "Do me a favor. Since you're not busy right now, would you mind coming down the security room of the hotel. I need you to take a look at some people for me."

  Elise's chair had magically, and rather swiftly, returned to my side. Her arms flew up like a drowning victim and her eyes were so wide you could see white all the way around her irises. I won’t tell you what she was mouthing to me, just use your imagination on that one. Let’s just say I haven't heard the F word used so colorfully since the last time I watched Pulp Fiction. Actually, that’s a lie; I heard that glorious word woven through such a fine tapestry of awesomeness the one and only time I ever went skiing with her.

  I put my finger up, letting her know I knew what I was doing and had an idea. She slapped it back down.

  (ow!)

  "I've been to the security offices here before, big stud," Gena responded. "I don't really want to go back, ya know'im sayin'?"

 

  "It's not like that. If you know where the office is then I will meet you out front in five minutes. I'll go get you a clearance so you can come back here with us."

  "Okay, baby, I hope this ain’t no setup or nothin'?"

  "Why would I set you up? Don't be lame. Five minutes." I hung up the phone. I swear to god I didn't even hear the call disconnect before Elise was yelling at me.

  "Calm down! Shit. Just trust me on this one. It's worth a shot and we're running out of time. Look, here's what I'm thinking. We've been staring and this stupid video for hours and hours, looking at person after person after person. Looking for anyone who looks suspicious, anyone who is acting shady or nervous or anything. Studying every frame looking for even the slightest little tick in every goddamn person that comes off that stupid elevator. We can't find anything, correct?"

  "Yeah, so?"

  "So this. If someone just beat a woman and is smuggling her out of the hotel somehow, wouldn't it make sense that he would be pretty stinkin' nervous?"

  "Yes, we've gone over-"

  "But wait! What kind of person wouldn't be nervous? What kind of fucking nut job could do something like this and walk right out the door, totally nonchalant?"

  "Someone...shit. Someone who has done this before."

  "Exactimundo." I gave her a thumbs up and rose from my seat. "Look, we have a handful of suspects left. If this dumb broad works this casino a lot, then there is a chance, albeit a small one, but still a chance that she could recognize someone. It's our last day and we have to try. Now I'll be back in a few minutes. Do me a favor and go grab as many cans of Lysol as you can scrounge up... Also, get fire and possibly some holy water. Oh, and a chair she can use that we can burn afterwards. K thanks."

  Elise rolled her eyes at me and I turned to walk away. I'm not sure, but I'm nearly positive there were some obscene hand gestures going on behind my back.

  19.

  I returned soon with Gena trailing behind me like a lost puppy dog.

  "Wow, I ain’t ne'er been down here before. I've been in the security office, like where they take ya before they take ya to jail, but never here. Neat!"

  Her glossy, bloodshot eyes gave the room a once over. Her face had the look of astonishment on it and I began to think maybe my idea wasn't the greatest. Oh well, too late now.

  "Hey, look at all dem TVs! Ya'll get cable down here?" she asked, seriously I'm afraid.

  "Gena, you remember Elise from the other night. Elise, Gena."

  "Yeah, how I can forget Gena?" Elise asked with a bit too much biting sarcasm in her tone. Good thing Gena appeared to be oblivious to everything.

  "Hey," Gena said, "ya'll mind if I smoke?"

  "No Gena," I answered, "remember two minutes ago when I made you put your cigarette out and said there was no smoking in the office?"

  "Oh yeah, hon, I forgot."

  "Yeah," I said, "now just enjoy your can of Bud Light there, (at 9am) while I find the right videos we need you to take a look at."

  "Alright hunny, you're da’boss. So, this real excitin' down here or what? Ya'll feel like that Sharon Stone movie, what’s it called? With the guy? And them cameras?"

  I waited for Elise to answer in her snappy little sass tone, but she sat silently, plotting my murder I suppose.

  "No, Gena," I answered.
"It's actually extremely boring. Super boring. Like, Nascar boring."

  "Ohmygod, I loves me some Nascar! One time last year I showed Tony Stewart my tittes! He was in town and I was like, Hey lover boy, and out they came. I could tell he was impressed. Ohhhhh, if he were here now, let me tell you-!"

  I don't know how to explain what was happening when she was sharing her lovely Tony-and-Titties story with us, but when she said the part about If he were here right now, she bent over, put her Bud Light-filled left hand on the desk to brace herself then slapped her ass with her right hand. I had to put a stop to this. I was about to speak up when Elise beat me to it.

  "Gena! STOP! How fucking old are you anyway? Like, what, fifty?"

  Gena stood up. The look on her face suggested she had no idea why we were getting snippy with her. Apparently in Whoresville, bending over and pretending to have sex with an imaginary non-athlete was perfectly acceptable. Her look soon turned to confusion and she looked like a deer that was about to get smashed in to by a semi.

  "Age ain't nothin' but a number, hunny. You 'member that. Plus, these youngins around here ain’t got experience. Guys don't want some rookie. They want us mature ladies, who know how to work it." She began thrusting in our direction. "Just ask your boy here. " She looked at me and gave me a wink. "Right baby?"

  "Okay, that’s enough!" I yelled. "I don't want to talk about tittes or stupid Nascar, or some beer guzzling hillbilly whose major talent is being able to turn left! I want to find a rapist! Elise, queue up the videos, Gena, sit down and shut up, and throw away that tacky Bud Light. You look like you should be sitting in a goddamn plastic lawn chair instead of that five hundred dollar office chair. Please."

  Technically she did what I said. She stood up to throw the can away but chugged the rest of the beer on the way to the trashcan. (Fine whatever, god!)

  "Okay, look," I continued, "you don't need to know the basis of the investigation, you-"

  "I already know it, silly. You told me all about it during our wonderful evening together."

  The look I got from Elise would have made the baby Jesus shutter in fear. I closed my eyes and thought about how stupid I had been. Stupid alcohol.

  "Ugh, okay," I shook my head and said. "Look, right now all we have left are people leaving this elevator with suitcases. That's all we've got left. I need you to look closely at all of these men and see if you recognize any of them. Maybe someone who has been hanging around the hotel, looking suspicious, anything."

  "Ay yi, cappin'!" Gena said, with a salute and a smile. (maybe this chicks not so bad.)

  We played the first video, a man in a nice suit leaving the elevator at 7:16am, six minutes after the last time we saw Leslie. This was my favorite lead because out of all the men, he seemed to have the only size suitcase that could hold a body. Elise pointed out to me, though, that the man was carrying the suitcase instead of pulling it, which would have made him Superman, apparently. I still liked him the best and was glad we started off with him. We had all but abandoned the idea of the two men team. We had to just assume the second attacker stayed behind for a while and left alone later. There would be no way of finding him.

  Gena leaned in closely to the monitors and took a good hard look. "Naw, he don't look familiar to me."

  "Doesn't," I corrected.

  "Huh?"

  "He DOESN'T look familiar to you..."

  "Yeah, that’s what I just said, aintcha listenin'? (Nevermind about what I said before. ugh!)

  "Okay, then here is the second guy." Elise started the video. This guy I recognized as the large man who stepped on the elevator with Leslie as it was going up. He was seen at 7:10 as the doors closed on him and Leslie, and appeared again at 7:25 rolling out a suitcase. He would have seemed like a logical choice but we didn't think the bag he was wheeling out was anywhere near big enough for a woman of 5'3" to be smuggled out of. It just looked way too tiny. Anyway, this guy's door, we are assuming, was opened five minutes later, two floors above Leslie's. I said we are assuming before because from the time after we last saw them on the elevator, four doors were opened using keycards. One was Leslie's room on the thirty seventh floor, one was Balls’ room also on the thirty seventh floor, and two rooms we're opened on the thirty ninth floor, all within just a few minutes of each other. We had to assume he was one of the two on the upper floor, especially since he was seen again so soon after with his bags packed.

  After he stepped off the elevator with his suitcase, he made his way to a slot machine and gave it a few pulls, his suitcase left unattended by his side while he pissed some more money away. Hardly something someone would do with a body in the case. Also, as he was exiting the hotel, right when the automatic doors opened and he was crossing the threshold, his suitcase caught on the door glides and fell over. The door man immediately bent over and picked the case back up, all the while our man was calm as could be, even giving the door man a friendly pat on the shoulder. Again, not what we were looking for in a man smuggling a woman outside against her will. The camera followed him all the way along the outside of the hotel and into the parking garage. Even if we did believe the attacker had done this before, those were risks no one should ever take. Stopping at the slot machine is what pretty much clinched his innocence for us.

  Gena gave the screen another hard look. No dice. She said she didn't recognize this guy either.

  "Ya'll got these guys's names?" Gena asked. (guys's?)

  "No," I answered. "That would be way too easy. Apparently the only file this stupid hotel keeps on their guests is their credit card number. Mighty fine business they're running here, huh?"

  "That's stupid."

  "Ya know what, Gena? That is stupid. You are absolutely right. I would rather call up every single person and flat out ask them if they raped some girl than sit here and try to sift through all these assholes. How a hotel can have no record of their guests beyond a credit card absolutely behooves me. They're really taking that Whatever happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas bullshit pretty seriously."

  "That's stupid."

  I shook my head and rolled my eyes. We moved on. This was our last real chance. The rest of our suspects were extreme long shots, wearing backpacks or messenger bags. Yeah, if this guy wasn’t a hit then we were done for. We would have to leave Las Vegas, just like everyone else, as losers.

  Elise started the video. Out of the elevator stepped a young man of about twenty five or so. Shorts, a hoodie sweatshirt and flip flops. An odd attire for a December morning, but that wasn't our concern. He was pulling behind him a suitcase that looked like, MAYBE, could hold our victim. We assumed Leslie wasn't exactly riding in comfort and she would had have to be knocked out anyway. I dunno, I guess it was possible. I wished it was possible.

  Gena squinted and leaned in closer towards the monitor. I thought I saw a glimmer of recognition in her eyes. My heart sped up and I got excited.

  "Yeah, yeah," she said, "I think I seen him before." (seen him? You think you SEEN him before?! Come on, people, this is basic first grade grammar, here. You SEEN him?! Gah!)

  I tried to hide my cringe and Elise noticed, giving me a hearty smile as she leaned back in her chair and I leaned forward in mine. "You've seen him before?"

  "Yeah, wait, no. No. False alarm. I was thinking of that guy...from that show...ya know, the one with the other guys that used to be on TV a while ago?"

  Elise spoke up, "Oh yeah, I know exactly what show you're talking about. Come on, Archie, the one with that guy. Duh." She shook her head in a desperate attempt to clear the stupidity from the air. "Thank you for your time, Ms....Gena, we'll call you if we can think of anything further we may need you for." Elise reached into her purse and took out a five dollar bill and handed it to Gena. "Go buy yourself another can of Bud Light, on us for your trouble."

  "Well shit stain! Right on, thanks guys!" Gena exclaimed, genuinely excited. "Looks like it’s about Beer-Thirty for this ol' gal!"

 
And that was that. We had nothing and it was almost time to go home. We left the security room and stopped at Mulroney’s office after we let Gena out. We informed him of the bad news but assured him we would keep working on it from home in any way possible. If we found anything we would be sure to call him. He thanked us for our effort and told us he had been working on it pretty much non-stop too with the same results. He had insurance adjusters breathing down his neck and if he didn't come up with something soon the whole hotel was in for quite the beating. We told him we would stay in touch and closed the door on our way out.

  Our next stop was at the police station where we met up again with Detective Howard of the LVPD. He told us pretty much the same thing Mulroney had told us. It was a case that had everyone stumped. He wasn't going to be able to let this one go though, the women cases we're always the hardest to get out of your mind. I assured him that we wouldn't be letting this one go either.