Shooting On the Strip

by Selena Cooper

  “That’s right. I don’t know what he’s got against me, but he had somebody following me around and everything.” Wilson was jumping on this indignant bandwagon we’d driven out in front of him. “He did. It was a little old man, and I could’ve sworn he was taking pictures of me and stuff.”

  I gasped. “What nerve!”

  “Yes, ma’am, what nerve,” said Wilson. “I felt like one of them circus of the stars or something with them papa—what do you call them?”

  “Paparazzi?” I asked.

  “Yeah…with what you said hiding in the bushes laying wait on me and stuff.” Wilson nodded.

  “Did Dan have more than one man following you?” Luke asked, taking a notebook out of his breast pocket to make notes.

  Wilson sat his beer down beside the chair and leaned forward. He saw the opportunity to burn Dan Sellers, and he was more than willing to take it. “Well, now, I ain’t saying there was more than one man trailing along after me…but there might’ve been.”

  “Tell me exactly where and when you realized you were being watched,” Luke said, pen at the ready.

  “Well, that little old man I was telling you about was at the bowling alley the night I met there with my league.”

  “Did you get a good score?” I asked.

  “One-eighty!” Wilson grinned, showing a mouth full of tobacco-stained teeth.

  “Yay!” I clapped my hands.

  Wilson’s grin widened, and Luke smiled too. I’d just given Luke proof that Wilson was well enough to bowl…apparently well. That didn’t tell us what had happened to the investigator, of course, but we’d get there.

  “Any other times?” Luke asked. “We don’t like our employees being spied on.”

  “No, sir, and I don’t blame you,” said Wilson. “It ain’t right for Sellers and them to be spying on people unless they’ve done something to show they can’t be trusted. And you said yourself, I have good records.”

  “You do, Mr. Wilson,” said Luke. “Can you think of any other times you knew you were being followed?”

  “Yeah…that night with the truck,” he said. “See I was in the grocery store parking lot waiting on a friend of mine. I…uh…had some stuff of his in the trunk of my car…and some other stuff in the backseat. Anyhow, I loaded that stuff into the truck while he stayed in the cab. When I got the stuff loaded up, I pulled the door down, and he took off.”

  “The stuff you loaded…how heavy do you think it probably was?” Luke asked.

  Wilson’s grin faded. “Why?”

  “Well, you couldn’t have had anything all that heavy in the trunk of a car, could you?” I asked. “I mean, it’s not like there was a sofa or a refrigerator back there!”

  Wilson laughed. “Right! Right. There wasn’t any of them boxes heavier than fifty pounds.”

  I scoffed. “Fifty pounds. Even I could lift that.” I flexed my right bicep.

  Wilson winked at Luke. The two good ‘ol boys were fixing to share a laugh at the little lady’s expense.

  “I don’t know about that,” said Wilson. “Fifty pounds is more than you think…especially when you’re loading ten boxes on the back of a truck.”

  I giggled. “I guess it is more than I’d be able to handle. Truth be told, twenty pounds sounds heavy to me. Of course, I don’t have the muscles you big strong men have.”

  Luke had a coughing fit that told me he needed to cover a laugh in a hurry. I was laying it on thick. But he had to give me credit—I’d knocked it out of the park twice for the home team.

  Luke gave Wilson a business card and told him to call if he could think of anything else.

  “In the meantime, you can bet I’ll be talking with Dan Sellers,” he said.

  “I appreciate that, Mr. Fontaine,” said Wilson. “And, Mrs. Fontaine, thank you for the basket.”

  “You’re so welcome,” I said. “Do be sure and let Luke know if you come up with more information about Mr. Sellers…or anything.”

  “You bet I will.”

  When we got into the car and pulled away, Luke said, “I don’t have the muscles you big strong men have? Really?”

  I laughed. “Hey, it got us at least part of what we needed, didn’t it? Wilson admitted to bowling and lifting ten fifty-pound bags of…something. That has to negate the seriousness of his back injury, right?”

  “That’s right, Miss Scarlett.”

  “Fiddle dee dee! I don’t mind your calling me Scarlett O’Hara as long as you’re Rhett Butler and realize that I need to be kissed often and by someone who knows how,” I said.

  “I’ll take care of that as soon as we get back to the hotel,” he said.

  “But first we’re going back to talk with Dan?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yep.”

  Nervous Dan, as I was starting to call him in my mind, was pacing around his office when we returned.

  “Did you see Martin? What did he say? Did he even talk with you?” he asked.

  “Yes, lots of stuff, and yes again,” I said.

  Luke shot me a look of exasperation. “We did talk with him. Frankly, Dan, he doesn’t seem like the brightest guy in the world.”

  “Yeah…well, he wasn’t our corporate attorney.” Dan barked out a quick laugh.

  “He admitted going bowling and lifting fifty pound bags of something—either he doesn’t know what or he isn’t saying—onto a truck the night he was captured on film by the private investigator,” said Luke.

  “So he practically admitted to us that his workers’ compensation claim is fraudulent,” I said.

  “Good. Well, there we go!” Dan nodded, obviously pleased.

  “You’re forgetting one minor detail,” Luke said. “The private eye is still missing.”

  “Oh…of course. But that’s really a matter for the police, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “You said they weren’t taking you seriously,” I reminded him.

  “I did, yes. B-but…you know…they’re right about there not being a body found,” Dan said. “Maybe I was being too hasty or paranoid.”

  “Maybe…or maybe not,” said Luke. “I’m still going to poke around a bit to see what I can learn. I’d be very surprised to find that Martin Wilson had anything to do with the investigator’s death though.”

  “Me too,” I said. “He might be shady, but he didn’t strike me as a killer.”

  “Just be careful, Mrs. Fontaine.” Dan bobbed his head like a little bird. “Seldom does a murderer advertise what he’s done.”

  “Well, Dan, we’ll get out of your way. If there’s any way we can be of further assistance, please let us know.” Luke shook Dan’s hand.

  “Thank you, Mr. Fontaine. And if you do find out anything about the investigator, let me know, would you?”

  “Of course,” said Luke.

  We were on our way to the moving truck rental place when I asked Luke why he hadn’t discussed the case in more detail with Dan.

  “I felt sure that you’d ask him where the P.I.’s office was so that you could get the information about the moving truck from the guy’s secretary or something,” I said.

  “This town isn’t that big,” he said. “It isn’t likely that many people rented a truck on the night that Wilson was filmed. Besides, I got to thinking about Wilson’s lack of…let’s call it a lack of ambition. There has to be someone else involved in the disappearance of the investigator. And what were they being so secretive about moving? Stolen merchandise? Drugs?”

  “All the more reason that we need to find out who this investigator was so we can figure out what he knew. Why didn’t you ask Dan?”

  “I don’t know Dan all that well. Plus he’s awfully jittery. Someone like that is more likely to talk to people who might not need to be aware of what we’re doing.”

  “I imagine you’re right about that,” I said. “You think whoever is involved in whatever Wilson was doing that night is someone Dan knows?”

 
; “I think it’s a strong possibility. Think about it. Who are the people most workers see the most?” he asked.

  “Their fellow workers.”

  “Exactly. So if you’re into something illegal, you know which of your coworkers might be willing to go into it with you, and you know who you can trust,” he said.

  “That means someone could be using the Las Vegas branch of Fontaine Enterprises as a base of operations for something illegal,” I said. “Could that come back on you in any way?”

  “I doubt it. But as manager, it could certainly come back on Dan.”

  “Did Dan tell you the name of the private investigator?” I asked.

  “No, but I own the place. That won’t be too hard to discover.”

  Luke was right. On the night Wilson loaded fifty pound packages of stuff, for lack of a better word, into the moving truck, only three people had rented vehicles. One of the vehicles was a small van, so we ruled that person out. The other two were named Gus Mahaffey and Cyrus Grayson.

  Luke explained that our friend had been missing since the night the trucks had been rented. The clerk said that both the trucks had been returned on time. Luke insisted that the driver of the truck might know something about our friend.

  His earnest plea accompanied by a one-hundred dollar bill convinced the clerk that it wouldn’t hurt to let us sneak a peek at the log. We left armed with the addresses of Gus and Cyrus and no idea how to approach either one.

  We started with Gus Mahaffey. On the drive to Mahaffey’s work address—a casino far on the outskirts of Vegas—we discussed how we might best approach him.

  “I know,” I said. “We’ll tell him he was the rental company’s one millionth customer and that he’s won a prize. We’ll give him a restaurant gift card or something and then ask him about his experience with the rental company…if the moving truck adequately served his needs and whatever else we can think of to ask that will either tell us he’s our guy or rule him out.”

  “Have I ever told you that you’re brilliant?” Luke asked.

  “You have…but we’re usually in bed when you say it.”

  He chuckled. “Well, you’re brilliant out of bed too.”

  “Thank you.”

  We stopped and got Gus Mahaffey a gift card to a national restaurant chain before going on to the casino—The Lucky Stiff.

  The Lucky Stiff was everything you might imagine a lesser casino to be—way too colorful, way too noisy, and way too crowded with people who didn’t appear affluent enough to be gambling away their money.

  A young man with slicked back dark brown hair approached us. He was wearing jeans, a western shirt, a sport coat, and cowboy boots.

  “Howdy! Welcome to the Lucky Stiff! Where would you like to start?”

  I thought I’d like to start with washing and restyling his hair, but I didn’t say so. In fact, I didn’t say anything. I thought Luke should take the lead on this because I guessed he could do the award presentation thing better than I could. He’d certainly had more experience with it.

  “Are you Gus Mahaffey, by any chance?” Luke asked.

  “Uh, no…’fraid I ain’t,” he said. “Gus is one of our blackjack dealers. He in any trouble?”

  “No, just the opposite,” said Luke. “We’re here to present him with an award.”

  “Heck! I’ll get somebody to fill in for him, and then I’ll bring him over. Why don’t you wait at the bar?”

  “We’ll do that.” Luke put his hand at the small of my back and led me to the bar.

  The bartender was a woman with straight black hair that hung past her shoulders. She gave Luke an appraising look before asking, “What can I get you?”

  “I’d like a white wine,” I said.

  “Make that two please,” Luke said.

  She sat the wine glasses in front of us, poured the wine, and quoted us a price. Luke put the money plus a tip onto the bar.

  While we were waiting for Gus, we stared at each other. Luke had the dreamiest sapphire blue eyes I’d ever seen. My gaze wandered down to his full lips. My own lips parted. I wet them with the tip of my tongue.

  “Penny?” he asked with a devilish grin.

  He knew me far too well to need to offer a penny for my thoughts.

  “You’ll need to do better than a penny.” I smiled. “These thoughts…or maybe I should say plans…don’t come cheap.”

  Luke ran his hand slowly up my arm, over my shoulder, and then traced half the vee neck of my blouse. “I’m intrigued.”

  Before our flirtation could go any farther, Gus Mahaffey joined us. I was a little disappointed. But then, as soon as we got this matter dealt with, the sooner we could get back to our hotel.

  “Hello,” said the man in a voice as smooth and rich as caramel. His skin was a café au lait color, and he had light brown eyes. “I’m Gus Mahaffey. Bucky said you wanted to see me.”

  “That’s right,” said Luke, turning to Gus. “Is there somewhere we could talk privately?”

  “Sure. How about that corner table?” He nodded toward a table in a more vacant area of the room.

  “That’ll be fine.”

  Luke and I followed Gus over to the table, and we all sat down.

  “I hope he wasn’t pulling my leg, but Bucky said I’d won some sort of prize or something,” said Gus.

  “Well, he’s absolutely right,” said Luke. “You have. You were the one hundredth customer of the quarter for A and E Rentals, and we have a hundred-dollar gift card for you to Landonbury Steakhouse.”

  “Really?” Gus broke into a wide grin. “How about that?”

  “Congratulations,” I said.

  “Thank you!”

  Luke presented Gus with the gift card, and Gus thanked us again.

  “Do you mind if we ask you just a few questions about your experience with A and E Rentals?” Luke asked.

  “No. Fire away.”

  Luke asked Gus about what he was using the truck for on the night in question. Gus never hesitated as he told us he’d been putting some of his grandmother’s furniture in storage.

  His lips tightened. “She’d become too infirm to take care of herself, and we all work so there was no alternative but to move her into assisted living.”

  “Hey, some of those places are really ritzy!” I was doing my best to be positive. It was apparent it had been hard on Gus to move his grandmother into a nursing home.

  He nodded. “This one is nice.” He suddenly smiled again. “And I know just who I’m taking to dinner with this gift card!”

  “That’s great,” I said. “Did anyone help you move your grandmother’s things?”

  “Um…my brother did,” said Gus.

  “His name isn’t Martin by any chance, is it?” I asked.

  Gus frowned. “No. Why?”

  “I…uh…went to school with a Martin Mahaffey.” I giggled. “I figured it was a long shot, but you never know…right?”

  “Yeah…I guess.”

  “Were you treated respectfully by the employees of A and E Rentals both upon taking the moving truck and upon returning it?” Luke asked.

  He really was good at this…way better than I was.

  “Yes, sir, I was,” said Gus. “They were as nice as they could be. They even asked if there was anything I needed with regard to boxes or anything.”

  “And was there?” asked Luke.

  “No. As I explained to the clerk, I wasn’t moving anything small. I had a bedroom suite, a sofa, a chair, and a grandfather clock,” said Gus. “That was it.”

  “Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Mahaffey.” Luke stood and shook Gus’s hand. “I hope you and your grandmother have a wonderful time at Landonbury.”

  “I’m sure we will.”

  “What’s your grandmother’s name?” I asked.

  “Mabel,” he said. “She’s the best.”

  “Okay,” I said as we got into the car to leave. “I guess
Cyrus is our guy.”

  “Do we want to talk with him tonight or tomorrow morning?”

  “I think old Cyrus will still be around in the morning, don’t you?” I asked. “I have plans for you…now.”

  Should I be ashamed to admit that we didn’t even make it back to the hotel? We found a dusty little deserted road and pulled onto the shoulder. The rental car was, naturally, much smaller than the limousine. And no tinted windows made it more likely we’d get caught. We didn’t mind…in fact, that was kind of a turn on in itself.

  I’d unzipped Luke’s pants and freed his cock before we’d even got out of the parking lot of the Lucky Stiff. I was getting hotter just stroking him.

  “Slip your jeans and your panties off,” he said.

  I hated taking my hand off his hard cock, but I did as he asked.

  I went back to fondling his dick as he fingered my pussy.

  “I can’t stand this. We need to be alone!”

  “I’m working on it,” he said.

  That’s when he spotted the dusty road. He drove up the road a short distance and then pulled over.

  “I’m gonna get in the backseat,” he said. “You straddle the console back and front.”

  I giggled in anticipation as I maneuvered my legs into the backseat and on either side of the console.

  Luke slid in behind me. “Are you ready for me?”

  “Always.”

  With his hands on my waist, he adjusted my position slightly until he could drive his cock into my pussy. He began moving his dick in circles, teasing me as he pushed my ass cheeks together.

  Despite the wonderful sensations, I became anxious when I saw a car heading our way.

  “Luke! There’s a car coming.”

  “There’s about to be a man coming…a woman too, I hope.”

  “But, shouldn’t I do something?” I asked.

  “Nope. I believe I can handle it.”

  “Luke!”

  He kept pumping. “Lock the door.”

  I leaned up slightly to lock the door, slipped and fell onto the horn. Naturally, at the sound of the blaring horn, the driver of the other car thought we were in distress. I managed to lock the door before he pulled over and got out.