Brad, jacket and tie removed, sleeves rolled up, was on the Stairmaster, stepping vigorously. “Where you going?” he asked.
“To your uncle’s office. He wants to see me. Are you coming?”
“He didn’t ask to see me.”
“Hmmm,” she said. “You have time to work out?”
“It’s my way of coping with a crisis. I’ve done all I can do for now.”
“Well, I’ll check with you later.” Kasey turned to go.
“Wait. Come in a minute.” When she was inside, he asked, “What are you doing after you finish here today?”
He was looking at her in a way that made her uneasy. “Why?”
“Well, maybe we can do something together.”
She looked away. Aside from one or two long glances or a lingering hand on her lower back when they entered and exited the elevator, Brad had pretty much behaved himself since they’d started working together. “That’s not a good idea, Brad.”
“Why not? And don’t say it’s because I’m too young.”
“You’re too young. For me, anyway.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“Brad, we’re coworkers. I don’t fraternize with coworkers.”
“What about when your job here is finished?”
“Nothing will have changed; you’ll still be too young for me.”
“Okay. I can see this is going to take a little time. I’m all for a challenge. I can be very persuasive, Kasey.”
When Kasey entered Jay’s office, he was on the phone. He motioned her in.
She crossed to the window and stood looking out.
“Has she turned up?” Jay said into the receiver. “Damn. Look, does anyone know her? Does she have friends working here? Okay, okay, put LeBarre on this. Have him find out anything he can. Send someone to her house. How far could she have gone in just an hour or so?”
Kasey could feel Jay’s eyes on her as he talked on the phone. She continued to stare out the window, pretending not to notice.
Several moments later, he ended the call. He hung up, stood.
She looked over at him. They both began to talk at once.
Jay smiled, nodded for her to go first.
“Which maid?” Kasey asked.
“Ramos. Inez Ramos. Excellent work record. Nothing on her sheet. She turns all overlooked items into the lost and found, even booze and loose change.”
“Maybe she was having financial problems? Eight thousand dollars isn’t loose change. It’s a lot of money.”
“I guess.”
“The police have been called in?” she asked.
He loosened his necktie and came around the desk. “Yes. I know, I should just leave it in their capable hands. But damnit, Kasey, what happens in this hotel is my responsibility.”
“I know that.”
Jay took Kasey’s hand and pulled gently. “C’mere, I want to show you something.” His hand was cool, his grip firm. He guided her to a paneled wall opposite his desk where he pressed a spot midway between ceiling and floor. A door, camouflaged within the dark woodgrain, opened inward. With a hand at the small of her back, he led her into a second office. The door closed with a whisper behind them.
There were no windows in this room. The overhead lighting was turned low, controlled by a wall dimmer. Along one wall stood a bank of monitors, five in all, screens blank. Laid out on a large-mahogany conference table in the middle of the room was a detailed architect’s model of the forthcoming hotel-casino expansion with its upscale parking garage, twin towers, and the completely remodeled exterior of the existing structure—wrought-iron railings, shingled roof, and lofty cupolas—in keeping with the town’s Victorian theme.
He pointed. “The future King’s Club.”
She moved slowly around the table, taking it in.
“Right there, next to the amphitheater, I want an outdoor skating rink,” Jay said. “Roller skating in summer and ice skating in winter. Can you see it, Kasey? It’s the holiday season; carolers fill the amphitheater; the town Christmas tree is brightly lit; people are ice skating, and right there, an impressive backdrop towering above the scene is the King’s Club.”
Kasey rounded the corner. “It will be the biggest thing in this town,” she said.
“And the best. I hope.”
“The best, without a doubt.” Their eyes met and held for a brief moment. Kasey felt a slight rush. She looked away, reached out and touched one of the towers. “I thought only one tower?”
“For now, yes. I’m being optimistic.” His expression took on a look of rapture. “It was a dream of my father’s. And now mine. He opened the club in the early sixties with very little gaming experience. Carny roots, penny pitching, pinball, that was what he knew. He and a handful of men like him, carny and bingo men, pioneers in the business. The road stories they’d tell when they got together! Pappy Smith knew how to run a show, and a casino. Dad learned a lot about the business and how to treat people from the Smiths. To them, Harold’s Club meant everything, and people were important. Employees as well as customers.”
“What about family? Where does family come in?”
Jay looked up at Kasey. In his blue eyes she saw a measure of guilt and contrition.
“Yes, of course, family. When my father started the business, we were all involved. My father, mother, brother, and me. Business, family—it was all the same. We all worked it, took pride in it. That family’s gone now. There’s just Dianne and Brad. Brad is definitely part of the business, and his interest will grow as time goes by. Dianne, by her own choosing, is not. I regret that, Kasey; I really do.”
He leaned over, righted a miniature tree on the model. His fingers were long, well formed—the hands of an artist or surgeon. ‘“When I married Dianne, I was young and in love and I thought my father would live forever, with me planted firmly in his shadow. Well, he didn’t live forever. I’ve had to step out of the shadows into the harsh light of responsibility. Now that it’s been forced upon me, I realize I want the same things for King’s Club that he wanted. And it’s up to me to make it happen. If that means not spending as much time with those I love until I can pull it off, then so be it. Securing financing for this project, working with bankers, contractors, licensing bureaus, and God-only-knows-who-else has taken up every moment of my spare time. I’m afraid Dianne will just have to be patient for a while longer.”
Kasey looked away. Knowing Dianne as well as she did, she realized that was a tall order, one she wasn’t sure Dianne could handle. But it’s none of my business, Kasey told herself.
“Speaking of Dianne…” Jay said as he pulled an envelope from his breast pocket. “This came in the morning mail.”
Kasey pulled out the grainy photograph. It took her only a moment to digest the contents.
She checked the postmark. Reno. With the hotel logo it could have been mailed right here, deposited in the mail drop at the front desk.
“Has she seen this?”
“No, and she won’t.”
“I’m not sure I agree with that, Jay. I know you’re trying to protect her, but unless she knows she could be in danger, she’ll go tripping along without a care or a clue.”
“She will anyway, Kasey.”
“Maybe, but all the same.”
“Okay, I’ll tell her in a couple days. In the meantime, I’ll have one of the security guys keep an eye on her.”
“Why wait?”
“I’m going to find out who’s doing this.” He flicked the envelope.
“How? Have you changed your mind about bringing in the police?” she asked.
“Uh-uh. You, Kasey, are going to find him. With my help, of course.”
Kasey laughed softly. “You give me too much credit, boss. I catch bartenders with their hands in the till. I catch dealers and their partners rigging games. This is big. Too big for me or you, Jay.”
“Right now, he’s just some nut making half-baked threats. If we keep on top of it, maybe we can catch it bef
ore it goes any further.” With a hand on her upper arm, he led her to the door and pushed it open. “Together we can do it,” he said.
“Do what, darling?” Dianne said from the built-in bar. She poured scotch over ice, turned to them.
Kasey started guiltily. She quickly composed herself. She had nothing to feel guilty about.
Jay went to her, kissed her lightly on the temple, and said, “Catch a thief.”
“Like that old TV show,” Dianne said.
“I wouldn’t know; you know I’m not into TV.” He sat on the edge of his desk. “Dianne, if you’ve come to have lunch, I’m afraid I can’t take the time today. We’ve had some trouble this morning and I’ll be tied up all day.”
“Then I’ll just take Kasey. Start without her; she can catch up later.”
Kasey turned to Jay.
“Go ahead,” he said resignedly. “I’ll put Brad on it. He’s been complaining about not having enough responsibility. He wants to get more involved in the inner workings. He knows the situation. He’ll fill you in when you’re through with lunch.”
Once in the lobby, Dianne refused to even consider eating at the hotel. “I hate hotel food. Come on, the Jag’s parked right outside.”
“Where to?”
“Someplace utterly snobbish.”
Chapter Sixteen
In the Clubhouse—so named because someone had scrawled the word on the back of the door—a, tiny dark room just off the now obsolete catwalk, a room the Monk had discovered the first day on the job, he took a moment or two to compose himself. The adrenaline still raced through his veins. The sense of potency, of domination, of total power throbbed throughout his entire being. With his arms outstretched, a palm braced flat against the wall on each side of him, chest heaving, he closed his eyes and savored it.
Only when the image began to break up and the thundering vibration in his body had dulled to a mere quivering of muscle and flesh, did he open his eyes and take stock of his quiet surroundings.
Grinning, he tucked his arms in tight to his body, took a boxer’s stance, and made mock jabs in the air with gloved fists. After a series of grunts and deep breathing, sparring with the hot air in the close space, he stripped off the leather gloves and flexed his fingers. He felt a slight soreness, a soreness he had been oblivious to at the time he used them to subdue the pretty little mex maid. The tenderness gave him a renewed sense of gratification.
With a penlight he examined his shirt and pants. Blood spattered the shirt, but not the pants. He touched the drying flecks and smiled. A job wasn’t worth doing if you couldn’t see the results, if you didn’t get a little dirty. With that old lady in 814, there had been no blood, no visible evidence of his handiwork. The only gratification had come from hearing the sharp snap of bone when he had forced her ring from her finger. He had hoped to make that death look natural, and he’d almost pulled it off. Almost. Taking the ring had probably been a mistake. But, shit, he wasn’t worried. There was nothing to link him to the old woman. And when he finished here, there would be nothing to link him to the maid.
He stripped the blue shirt from his sweat-drenched torso. Using the shirt he bent down and rubbed hard at the reddish black flecks on the tops of his shoes. He rolled the shirt into a ball, reached up and shoved it and the gloves deep into the corner between the ceiling and the overhead tin duct. Before leaving the room, he slipped on a dark-blue nylon windbreaker and zipped it all the way up.
Five minutes later, downstairs in the employee locker area, the Monk paused at a metal locker. After looking around to make certain he was not being observed, he forced two items through the slotted vents. The third item, the maid’s crucifix, he would plant later that evening when he was on duty. It was too risky now.
*
Paula Volger stood at the access door on the second floor, the same door she had seen the security guard, the one who had tried to attack her in the parking garage, come through only minutes ago. He had glanced around suspiciously, as she was doing now, before he’d casually sauntered to the door of the service stairwell and disappeared.
She wondered what he was up to now. Was he stealing from the club and hiding his contraband somewhere beyond this door? Or had he found a dark, secret place to shoot up or maybe meet a lover? She thought of Inez, wondered if this man could be the one her friend was seeing on the sly, then just as quickly rejected the notion.
There was only one way to find out. She lifted her keychain and began to try each one in the lock. The fourth one, a multipurpose key that opened the linen and storage rooms, worked. Paula quickly opened the door and went through. Five steps down, she entered a dim, narrow passageway with overhead pipes, beams, and metal ducts. The now seldom-used casino catwalk.
She followed the walk to the end, so intent on the view of the casino below through the two-way mirrors that she almost missed the narrow plywood door at the junction. She paused, put her ear to the door and listened. There was no door latch. She pushed. It opened inward. Paula searched for a light switch and found none. From her uniform pocket she took a book of hotel matches and lit one. She stepped inside.
Someone had been in the room a short time before. The strong odor of sweat hung in the air. Another match revealed a metal toolbox on the floor. Two matches later she uncovered the bloody clothes.
Frightened now, she quickly exited.
*
The Monk had one more stop before he was through. He retraced his steps to the second floor. He had decided to hide the third piece of evidence in the room where he had stashed the bloody clothes until he could plant it later that evening. No sense taking a chance getting caught with it on him.
He entered the convention floor and rounded the corner. Ahead, from the door that led to the catwalk, he saw a woman in a hotel housekeeper’s uniform come through. She quickly made her way to a service elevator, hit the button, and paced impatiently until the doors opened. She had stepped inside and turned to press a button when their eyes met.
He recognized her—the drunk from the parking garage. And by the expression on her face he could tell that she recognized him as well.
He started to walk toward her. She pounded on the button panel with the edge of her palm. Even from a distance he could read the fear in her eyes. What the hell was she up to? he wondered.
He stepped up his pace, but the elevator doors closed before he could reach them.
Several minutes later in the tiny room off the catwalk, as the Monk was hiding the crucifix, he spotted the four burnt matches on the floor. He knelt, picked one up and examined it curiously. His hand balled into a tight fist. In his mind’s eye he saw the frightened face of the maid in the elevator.
“You’re dead, bitch.”
Chapter Seventeen
The Windsor blue surface of Lake Tahoe was mirror smooth, rippled now and then by a speedboat or ski jet. Kasey and Dianne sat in the open patio of Hobie’s on the north shore. Overhead in the towering pines, blue jays hopped from limb to limb, screeching. Yellow jackets buzzed, occasionally landing to sample the food. Water lapped softly at the pilings at the edge of the deck.
Kasey picked at several pine needles that had fallen into her bowl of clam chowder—soup, with ground pepper, accompanied by freshly baked bread and real butter, were a weakness of hers—and listened patiently to Dianne lament her boring, boring existence.
“What good is being married if your husband has no time for you?” Dianne said. “Eddie, at least, was always there.”
“As I recall, that was one of the reasons you divorced him.”
“I divorced him because I was in love with Jay. Jay was everything I wanted. Gorgeous, rich, incredible in bed. Only it didn’t turn out the way I imagined. He’s one of the most influential men in town; the social invitations arrive daily, but we don’t go anywhere. He speaks Russian, German, and Spanish, but we’ve yet to leave the country.”
“He has a hotel to run, Dianne.”
“I knew you’d side with him, be
ing a workaholic yourself. Where’s it gotten you?”
That rankled Kasey. “Right where I want to be. Status isn’t important to every—”
Dianne cut her off. “What’s the good of being rich when you don’t take advantage of it?”
“Those aren’t Wal-Mart clothes you’re wearing; this isn’t Burger King, and that car out there—”
“Oh, Kasey—” Dianne shook her head sadly. “—somewhere over the years our desires and ambitions took entirely different roads.”
No argument there, Kasey thought. Different roads was an understatement. Different worlds was more like it. On a daily basis, Kasey dealt with ordinary people—the working class. Although she was her own boss, she relied on others for her livelihood; and without cheats and undesirables, she’d have no business. She wondered how she had ever been all that close to Dianne.
Kasey shrugged and absently waved her hand at a hovering yellow jacket.
“Don’t slap at them; it only pisses them off,” Dianne said of the wasp. She took a bite of poached salmon and sipped her wine. “Jay showed you the hotel expansion plans. Do you have any idea how much all that is going to cost? We’ll be in hock up to our eyeballs.”
“It’s for the future, Dianne. You should know that.”
“The future?” She laughed sarcastically, brushing a strand of pale-blonde hair from her eyes. “What future? Gaming is opening up across the board. Nevada no longer controls it. Anything can happen. Gaming here could dry up. We could be living in a ghost town in a few years. Vegas, with its multimillion dollar theme palaces will probably be okay. Tahoe has the lake; Laughlin, the Colorado River, but what about us? What do we have? Instead of adopting a wait-and-see attitude, Jay is taking us deeper into debt. He’s gambling with our future, Kasey, and this is one time the odds are not in favor of the house.”
“Maybe he feels he has no choice.”
“Oh, he has choices all right. He could sell the club. Get out while the getting’s good. Ansel Doyle made him an offer. A very generous offer, I might add. He won’t sell.”
“What would he do with himself if he didn’t have the club?”
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