I wandered around the casino for a few minutes before seeing a guy wearing the signature black blazer of the security officers, seated behind a counter on a raised platform at the edge of the casino floor. It appeared to be some type of control or supervision position. I knew from my first visit here with Sissy months ago that the main control and monitoring was done from the large suite of offices in the back, but figured this was a good spot to start in my quest to locate Spencer. I strode up to the podium and said, "Hello, my name's Jack Nolan, I'm here to see Jeff Spencer." I hoped my casual, but authoritative, demeanor would make me seem to actually have a meeting scheduled with Spencer.
The security officer asked, "Is he expecting you, Sir?"
So much for my attempted bluff. "Not specifically, but I'm certain he'll want to meet with me. Can you call him please?" I attempted to remain friendly, but firm.
"May I tell him what it's about, Sir?"
I hesitated as if considering whether I should share the information with a lowly security officer. I said, "Just tell him it's about the assault of a woman in the hotel who was under police protection. I'm confident he will recall the incident."
Now it was the security officer's turn to hesitate. Finally, he pushed a couple of buttons on the small communications console in front of him and spoke into the headset he was wearing. With the background noise from the casino I couldn't hear much of what he was saying, but I did catch my name and the word "assault." After he finished speaking he paused and then said a couple of additional words before pushing another button and disconnecting his call. He looked down at me and said, "If you'll just stay in this general area Sir, Mr. Spencer will be here in ten minutes."
I wandered around a few minutes, but never strayed out of sight of the security officer. Even in such a limited area, the casino provided a diverse collection of people to observe as they were parted from their money. On one end of the spectrum you had the obese grandmother, with her oxygen tank in tow, pumping coins into a vintage one-armed bandit. On the other end you had the statuesque blond, wearing a long tight gown accessorized with enough diamonds to buy Cap's Place, standing behind a man old enough to be her father while he parted with large stacks of chips at a blackjack table. Most other stations on the continuum of modern American society were somehow represented in even this small area of the casino. The one commonality shared by all of these people was that they were all losing. Equal opportunity for all. Gotta love it.
My study of the inhabitants of the modern casino was interrupted by the approach of a man in a dark blue suit with a pale pink button down shirt open at the collar. His stride was that of a man who was in charge, confident, but relaxed. The gray in his medium length black hair seemed much more predominant than when I last saw him. He approached with his hand outstretched. "Jack Nolan, how are you?"
To some degree I was surprised he remembered me. I clasped his hand and shook, "Hi Jeff. I'm great. Thanks for seeing me."
He nodded, "No problem. I understand you want to talk to me about the assault of someone on our property. Is it something that was reported to the police? To us?"
Evidently, my message hadn't gotten through in its entirety. Obviously, he didn't really remember me. I replied, "It's about the assault on Sissy Storm when PJ, er . . . Detective Johnson, was trying to hide her here."
Spencer's demeanor remained relaxed, but his eyes related first recognition and then intense analysis. Finally, he spoke, "It was my understanding that the police had closed that investigation. I was told that the man behind the assault was responsible for two murders and ultimately committed suicide. What is your interest at this point?"
I asked, "Is there somewhere a little more private that we could talk?"
Spencer turned his head from side to side inventorying the immediate area. He responded, "Yes, of course. Let's go into the Cattlemen's Steak House, right around the corner, it'll be fairly slow this early, they have a couple of small private dining rooms, I'm sure we can use one for a few minutes."
I followed Spencer as we walked back into the enclosed promenade connecting the hotel and the casino. This area, lined with gift shops and restaurants, resembled a high-end shopping mall. We entered the steak house and Spencer said a couple of words to the hostess, she nodded and told us to follow her. She led us through the sparsely occupied dining area to a small enclosed room with a table for ten. Spencer declined her offer to have a server stop in and she closed the door as she left. He took the seat at the end of the table closest to the door and I took the seat immediately to his right.
Spencer asked, "So what's this all about?"
I said, "You're correct that the official police investigation into the attack on Sissy is closed. The larger investigation was closed with the suicide of the writer who had contracted for the killer who killed my other bartender, Allison, and the Miami Herald reporter. Consequently, no additional work was ever done on the attack of Sissy. Everyone believes that Sissy's attacker was the same person, but no one knows for certain. The theory is that he was a hired killer who's long gone. The problem is, Sissy is still afraid that he'll return to kill her."
Spencer's eyes narrowed, furrowing his brow, "Why would he come back to kill her? I thought it was a case of mistaken identity in the first place? He'd killed the other girl . . . Allison, but thought he'd made a mistake, so he came after Sissy. The attack on Sissy was actually the mistake, why would he come back to finish something that was, in fact, a mistake? It doesn't make any sense."
I nodded, "You know that and I know that. The problem is that Sissy doesn't believe it. She's scared, she's still scared. I'm just trying to show her that she has nothing to worry about."
Cocking his head to one side Spencer asked, "Why aren't the police investigating?"
I replied, "They're of the same belief as you and I, they don't think there is any reason to believe the killer will return. The problem is not rooted in reality, it's rooted in a young woman's fears."
Spencer leaned back in his chair and locked me in a steely gaze. I knew he was making a decision. I waited. Finally, he asked, "Okay, I understand the situation, but how do you think I can help?"
I said, "I believe the key is to find out how the attacker learned of Sissy's location so quickly. I think that the first step is for you and I to make a list of everyone who knew we were hiding Sissy here. We can then look at the list to see if anyone could have potential ties to organized crime. It all happened so quickly that the information must have come from someone with an ongoing connection to organized crime, or at least to this hired killer."
I knew I'd been too direct when Spencer's head snapped back as if I'd just slapped him across the face. He spit back, "No one here has ties to organized crime. That's for damn sure. You're barking up the wrong tree if you think the information came from someone here." He crossed his arms in the classic closed position. Smooth Jack, real smooth. PJ warned you, but you blundered forward anyway.
"No, no Jeff. I don't mean it the way it sounded. I honestly don't think the leak came from here either, but we are trying to prove a negative so we need to look closely at everyone who had opportunity so that we can eliminate them. That's the only way we can prove the negative."
"No," Spencer barked, "The other way you can prove it didn't come from here is to find out where it did come from. Why don't you look at those outside of here who knew? People in here knew we were hiding someone, but they didn't know why. We conceal the presence of VIP's all of the time. It's no big deal around here. For all anyone knew she was a Hollywood starlet hiding from the media."
"Exactly, that's exactly what I'm talking about. We make a list of who knew and what they knew. If they didn't know she was being protected by the police there is no way they could have been involved." Another poor choice of words Jack.
Spencer slapped his hand on the table hard enough to make the glass bangles in the crystal centerpiece tinkle, "Damn it, no one here was involved." The emphasis he put on the word 'involve
d' made it clear I was skating on very thin ice.
I lowered my voice in hopes he would follow suit, "I agree, Jeff. I don't think anyone here was involved either. If we make a list of who knew of Sissy's presence and what they knew, and you take a look at the list and eliminate each individual, that's as close as we can come to proving the negative. Once we do that I can focus entirely on people outside of here."
Rubbing his forehead Spencer replied, "Okay, I understand your approach. Start at the scene and work outward." He exhaled deeply, "Just don't think I haven't already looked at that event from every angle possible. You need to know that I'm very concerned about the potential for the source of her location to be inside. Like I said, we often hide high profile people here. If I have a leak in my organization I need to find it. I can tell you I've gone over everything that we did that night several times and I've found nothing." He paused and nodded slowly, "But, a fresh set of eyes can't hurt. Detective Johnson speaks highly of you, so let's give it a try, maybe you'll see something I missed."
I felt the muscles in my neck release for the first time since I'd walked into the casino, "Great Jeff. How would you like to proceed?"
He pulled his smart phone from a pocket in his suit jacket, looked at the display and said, "Tonight is really jammed up, Friday night and all, can you come back tomorrow around noon? I will block off some time so we can go over the entire sequence of events."
I didn't need to look at my calendar, "Sure, noon tomorrow is great. Where should I meet you?"
"Just come up to the same security podium you were at tonight and ask to have an officer escort you to my office."
"Great Jeff. Thanks so much."
We stood and shook hands as Spencer said, "You do need to know that I feel terrible about what happened to that young woman here. I can understand why she's still scared."
A twinge of guilt shot through me, but I shook it off. Although she hasn't mentioned it in some time, I'm certain that Sissy is still feeling the effects of the attack. My exaggeration to motivate Spencer is justified by my goal of helping PJ learn the truth about her concerns regarding Tim. Way to rationalize, Jack.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
By the time I retrieved my car from the valet and headed toward Miami Beach, it was nearly 8:00 p.m. I called Elena as soon as I got into the southbound traffic. She sounded very upbeat on the phone. She asked if I had eaten and when I said no she told me she would meet me downstairs in the lobby of her condo and we could walk to one of the lounges in the Fontainebleau and get something. That sounded perfect to me because I was already trying to figure out how I was going to diplomatically end the evening if we were at her condo. Not that I didn't want to stay again tonight, especially after the provocative things Elena had suggested in our earlier phone call, but I felt that two nights in a row might signal a point in the relationship I wasn't ready to reach. After all, there's still the matter of her father.
Elena was waiting in the lobby of her building when I entered. She was wearing a short pale blue dress with an open back. The dress appeared to by secured by a single bow at the back of the neck. She wore matching strappy sandals with medium height heels. Her smile was radiant. She greeted me with a warm kiss and linked arms with me steering us toward the Fontainebleau.
Elena guided us to a small restaurant that was decorated in the motif of a French bistro. She gave her name to the Maître D' and we were seated at a table on the semi-open patio overlooking the beach. The tall potted plants gave an air of privacy. The evening offshore breeze was moving enough air to gently rustle the plants causing the indirect lighting to appear to flicker across the table. The setting was very romantic. I was beginning to suspect this was not a chance location.
After we had ordered drinks, Elena turned to me and asked, "How was your day?"
I was certain I didn't want to get into a discussion about my activities investigating the attack on Sissy, so I deflected with "Oh, nothing too exciting. The usual day around Cap's. How was your day? How did your meeting go this morning?"
She smiled and her eyes brightened, "Actually, the meeting went very well. Mr. Mancuso . . . ," lowering her voice and giving a faux conspiratorial look, "I mean, Dad, has decided to move forward on the project you and I looked at in Boca Raton and he wants the building remodeled extensively. The design and project oversight is going to be mine. I'm very excited. It's an opportunity to really prove my worth to others in the organization."
"I'm sure you are considered valuable to others in the organization." I hoped we were talking about an organization focused on real estate and not crime.
A shadow crossed her face, "Not really, those few who know I'm his daughter think that's the only reason I have the job and those who don't know that think my looks are the only reason I have the job."
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand, "Well, I can certainly see why your looks would be a hinderance."
"You don't know what it's like. I have to work twice as hard to be taken seriously."
"Oh, so you're saying I'm not good looking enough to face that type of problem?"
Elena exhaled sharply, "No, I'm saying you're a man and being an attractive man is a positive attribute. Being an attractive woman is as much a negative as it is a positive and sometimes more negative than positive."
Our drinks arrived, interrupting the conversation that had turned more serious than I had expected. Attempting to regain the earlier mood I said, "You're correct that I don't know much about the problems of women in the workplace, but I do know quality people when I meet them and you are top quality, Elena. I enjoy your company even if you are beautiful."
Elena chuckled and raised her glass in a toast, "Thanks."
I don't know if it was by design, or if Elena was just in a much more reflective mood than she had been on earlier occasions, but the conversation seemed to keep looping back to failed marriages, hers and mine. I didn't mind listening to her rumination about her marriage and the reasons for its demise, but I was much less comfortable discussing mine. She was subtly relentless and finally the entire story of my walking in on Katherine having sex with a local judge and my slamming the door on my life in Michigan and coming to Florida came out.
Elena gazed at me and asked, "Do you ever regret making such a dramatic change in your life? You know, they say you should never make important life decisions while under stress. I certainly understand why you felt your marriage was over, but what about everything else that was your life? Your work? Your friends? Even your family is up there."
I replied, "On some level I'm sure I do have regrets, probably because I have no way of knowing what course my life would have taken if the only change I'd made was my marriage. Mostly, I just ignore thinking about it."
She nodded, "Until some nosy bimbo pries it out of you?"
"You're certainly not a bimbo and I don't think you're nosy. I think you're . . . you're . . . the first person I've met who cares enough about me to want to see me be honest with myself."
Elena reached across the table and interlaced her fingers with mine, "That's very astute of you Mr. Nolan. If this relationship is ever going anywhere, we both need to be keenly aware of where we've been and why we're here. We need to be building on a foundation of going toward something, not running away from something."
By this time, we had finished our light dinner and split a French dessert that I couldn't even pronounce. We were sipping an after dinner brandy when Elena gave me one of her coy looks and asked, "So, what's on your agenda for tomorrow?"
I knew that if I mentioned returning to the Pinnacle tomorrow she'd become inquisitive and the last thing I wanted to discuss was my investigative activities. Especially if it was a leak into organized crime that facilitated the attack on Sissy. The whole mess could possibly involve her father. I didn't really want to even consider that potential, much less discuss it with Elena. I was evasive, "Nothing much going on tomorrow, just the usual grind of being a small business owner in modern A
merica."
Elena's eyes sparkled as she said, "Good, then it won't matter if you don't get back until afternoon. When I finish with you tonight, you're not going to be able to get out of bed until noon."
Okay Jack, be careful here. You don't want to stay two nights in a row, but you don't want to offend a beautiful woman who is promising to rock your world. You might think it's not a good idea to stay again tonight, but that doesn't mean you'll never want to stay again. Make a mistake at this point and that could be the outcome. I scrunched my face up into what I hoped looked like sincere disappointment and said, "Actually, I do need to be back early. We're expecting an early delivery and I told Moe I'd be there to receive it. No one else comes in that early. I'm just right upstairs so I said I'd cover."
I was braced for Elena to ask why I couldn't call Moe and tell him that something had come up and I couldn't cover the delivery. That's what I would have said in her position. Instead she said, "Okay, I understand. Your loss though."
"I'm really sorry, can I have a raincheck?"
"Nope. Tonight won't happen again. Oh, there may be similar nights in the future, but tonight will be gone forever."
"My goodness, an architect and a philosopher. You're really quite the woman, Elena."
"Oh my friend, you only know half of it." She stood, "Walk me home? Let's go out the back and walk along the beach."
We went out the back of the patio and onto the beach. Elena slipped off her sandals and walked barefooted on the hardpacked sand. The moonlight glistened off her hair as it danced across her shoulders. We walked hand in hand in a comfortable silence. The beach entrance of her building brought us to a small lobby with a service elevator. When we got up to her condo, Elena unlocked the door, opened it and tossed her sandals to one side. She stood in the doorway facing me and said, "I appreciate your dedication to your promise to Moe, but I can't say that I'm not disappointed." With that, standing on her toes, she reached up and clasped her hands behind my neck, pulling me into a warm passionate kiss.
Quick Be Jack: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 3) Page 6
