Buried In Buttercream

by G. A. McKevett

  “He had a filet mignon at a local steak house and—”

  “Extra rare?”

  “Of course. And then he went back to his hotel room. We’re down the hall, watching the door.”

  Savannah smiled, imagining her brother and Tammy hiding behind some giant palm or whatever. In her fantasy, they were both wearing Groucho noses, glasses, and mustaches.

  “Above and beyond the call of duty,” she told her. “Why don’t the two of you go get some dinner, too? We’re getting ready to leave the brothel now. We’ll hook up with you later.”

  “Are you sure? We’d be glad to wait for you to get back for us all to eat together.”

  “Two’s company, Tammy. Four’s definitely a crowd. Go eat ... if you can find an organic vegetable in Sin City.”

  “Oh, yeah ... that might be a challenge.”

  “Talk to you later, puddin’. Thanks for all the good work.”

  “Happy to do it. Oh! Wait! I forgot to tell you. After we were all back at the hotel, I hooked up with that concierge ... the one I got along with so well over the phone.”

  “Yes? And tell me you didn’t really use that pregnant sister cover. It wouldn’t work in person since you aren’t—”

  “Of course not. I told him that Waycross and I are cops.”

  “Tammy! You didn’t! Impersonating a police officer is illegal!”

  “Only if you get caught. Don’t worry. He was really nice. Even let us look at some of the hotel security footage from the day of the murder.”

  Savannah scowled. “Yes. We confirmed what he told you before about Ethan going to the brothel two days in a row. We verified it with the gal he saw here at Monique’s. And by the way, Monique’s a big, ugly Ruskie dude.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, sorry. Is that un-PC of me?”

  “No, well, I don’t know. But that’s a fake alibi. Ethan was walking around the halls of the hotel here at ... let me check my notes ... eight oh four, nine fifteen, ten oh eight, eleven twenty-six, and then at twelve thirty-nine. And it’s an hour drive there, right?”

  “Yes. An hour and change.”

  “Then he wasn’t there any time during the morning. He was here in town. Mostly here in the hotel.”

  Savannah turned to Dirk, her right eyebrow raised to all-new heights. “You’re very sure about this, right, babycakes? Because I have a feeling this information is gonna open a big can of whupass.”

  “Yes. I’m sure. Who’s ass is gonna get whupped?”

  But Savannah had already hung up the phone and was getting out of the car.

  “What’s up?” Dirk asked, following her.

  “My dander.”

  “Why?”

  “ ’Cause if there’s one thing I can’t abide, it’s bein’ lied to. And I’m about to give that lyin’ Russian new excretory alternatives.”

  He stopped and stood there thinking about it as she stomped on toward the door. Then he ran and caught up to her. “Oh, okay. Gotcha. Need help?”

  “No, but you can watch if you wanna.”

  She pounded on the door several times before Vadim finally opened it again. He looked annoyed, but not half as angry as she was.

  She barged past him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

  “What the hell!” Vadim shouted at her. “You again?”

  “Yep, it’s her again. And me, too,” Dirk said, following her inside. “Apparently, she’s got a bone to pick with you.”

  “What bone? What pick?” Vadim said, bristling.

  Dirk opened his mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again. “Well, I’m not exactly sure, but I’ll betcha she’s gonna tell you.”

  “You’re damned right I’m gonna tell you.” Savannah stepped up to him and shook her finger in his face. “You lied to us. And you got that little gal in there to lie to us, too. Ethan Aberson didn’t come back here for a second visit the next day. He was somewhere else.”

  “No. No. He was here.”

  “Don’t you go lying to me again, you two-bit pimp. This isn’t open for debate. We’ve got videos of him in Las Vegas at the same time you say he was here. Solid proof. He wasn’t here. So why are you covering for him?”

  Having caught up to speed, Dirk stepped forward, too, an equally irate look on his face. “Do you know what you’re doing, buddy? You’re providing an alibi for a guy who’s suspected of first-degree murder. You know that? This here’s a homicide investigation you’re interfering with.”

  Vadim’s face tightened with fury as he backed away from them and around the end of the counter. “I did nothing. I said nothing to you.”

  “The guy in that photo,” Savannah said, “paid you and your girl to say he was here when he wasn’t to give him an alibi so he could murder somebody. Now, when we prove that, you’re going to be on the next boat back to Russia or wherever the hell you’re from. And something tells me you might not get a warm welcome back there.”

  “So you’d better start telling the truth,” Dirk said.

  “And you”—Vadim reached behind the counter and pulled out a butcher knife that was at least a foot long—“you leave or I cut your hearts out.”

  Savannah reached beneath her jacket at the same time as Dirk went for his own shoulder holster. In unison, they pulled their weapons and pointed them at Vadim.

  “Two guns beat a knife any day of the week and twice on a Sunday,” Savannah told him. “So you put that cheese slicer on the counter there before we blow your damned lying, pimping head off.”

  Vadim was shaking so hard and glaring at them with such pure hatred, that for a moment, Savannah thought he might go for it. She had already calculated how many rounds she could squeeze off before he was able to get around the counter. And she was pretty sure that, between the two of them, they could drop him ... big as he was.

  Just for a split second, she felt a sick, familiar feeling deep in the core of her being, raw and potent as the adrenaline surging through her bloodstream.

  She had been in a life-and-death situation like this less than one hundred days ago, and every cell in her body remembered it.

  But this was different. This time her weapon was in her hand. And she knew how to use it.

  “Put down the knife,” Dirk said. “If you don’t, we’re gonna shoot you. Do you wanna die today, Vadim? Is that what you want?”

  “Put it down,” she said. “Lay it on the counter. Don’t make things worse than they already are.”

  Finally, the fire of rage in his eyes subsided a bit, and a more sane, smoldering anger replaced it. With a deep sigh of resignation, as though he had been holding his breath for a long time, he laid the weapon on the counter.

  Quickly, Dirk snatched it up.

  But both he and Savannah kept their guns trained on him.

  “Okay,” Savannah said. “Now, you tell us the truth. How much did he pay you for this alibi?”

  In a calmer, less aggressive tone, Dirk said, “If you tell me right now, I’ll walk out of here, and we’ll forget everything that just happened. We just want to know what he said to you and how much he paid you. Tell us and we’ll leave you alone.”

  Vadim thought it over. Finally, he said, “Five hundred dollar.”

  “And what exactly did he tell you to say if anyone came asking?” Savannah wanted to know.

  “He just said, ‘Say I was here to see girl, that I like her a lot, so I come two days. Friday and Saturday, too.’”

  “Okay, now was that so hard?” Dirk lowered his weapon and reholstered it.

  But Savannah didn’t.

  With her Beretta pointed at his head, she said, “One more thing and then we’ll go. Take out your cell phone.”

  “Why?”

  “Vadim, it isn’t smart to ask ‘why’ when somebody has a gun pointed at the middle of your face. Take it out of your pocket! Slowly. Very slowly.”

  Reluctantly, Vadim did as he was told.

  “Now, call Charlene ... you call her Trixie ... and hand me the phone. You ju
st dial. Don’t you say a word to her. I mean it!”

  “Why?”

  “Vadim, you just ain’t right in the head, boy. I already told you to keep the questions to a minimum. Do it!”

  He punched a couple of numbers, then held the phone out to Savannah.

  A tentative, meek voice on the other end answered, “Yes?”

  “Charlene?” Savannah asked.

  “Yes. Savannah?”

  “It’s me, sweetie. Now listen to me. You throw whatever’s yours into a suitcase or whatever you’ve got and go out to the parking lot. There’s a red Mustang sitting there. You get into the backseat and then call me back here on Vadim’s phone. Got it?”

  “But ... but, Savannah, I can’t... .”

  “Yes, you can. This may be the only chance you ever get to have a life that’s worth living, Charlene. Take it!”

  “Okay. I will.”

  “Good girl. Hurry up.”

  Savannah snapped the phone closed and continued to look down the barrel of her gun at Vadim, who was appearing more despondent by the moment.

  “What now?” he said.

  “We wait a few minutes,” she replied.

  Three minutes later, when Vadim’s phone rang, Savannah answered it and heard a breathless Charlene on the other end. “Okay. I’m out here. I’m ready to go.”

  She sounded so happy that Savannah thought her heart would swell and burst, just hearing it.

  “We’ll be right out, honey,” she told the excited girl. “You just sit tight.”

  When Savannah hung up the phone and shoved it across the counter toward Vadim, he said, “You cannot take my girl. She belongs to me.”

  “She ain’t yours anymore,” Savannah told him, her own blue eyes as cold as his. “She’s a human being, and you’re nothing but a no-good, blood-sucking pimp ... a modern-day slave trader. And just for the record, I hate people like you.”

  She and Dirk backed out of the room, and she didn’t holster her weapon until they were in the Mustang with Charlene and a pillowcase half full of belongings in the rear.

  Savannah saw the meager bag and said, “Is that all you’ve got, darlin’?”

  Charlene looked ashamed for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, but at my brother’s house in San Francisco, I have a pretty room with a pink bedspread and a view of the bridge.”

  “Then let’s get you back to your brother’s house,” Savannah said. “And with some work on your part, you won’t ever have to see this stinkin’ place or another one like it again.”

  Chapter 23

  “What do you want to do first,” Savannah asked Dirk as they walked into the Victoriana, “have dinner or go twist a knot in Ethan Aberson’s tail?”

  “Oh, the tail twisting, definitely. Just think how much tastier dinner will be if we’ve roasted him first.”

  That told Savannah all too clearly how aggravated he was that he’d been chasing his own tail trying to nail this guy. Dirk seldom got terribly, deeply annoyed when on a case. After so many years, it was all pretty routine for them both.

  But this one had proven especially frustrating with so many suspects, so few alibis, and so little physical evidence.

  She understood his vexation and shared it.

  It was enough for her to want to go after Ethan Aberson on an empty stomach. And that was a first for her, a woman with her priorities in order. Food first and then ... well ... everything else.

  “Then let me call Tammy and see what room he’s in,” she said.

  “She’s probably sitting outside his door, watching it like a cat watching a gopher hole.”

  “Probably.” She punched in Tammy’s number on her cell. Tammy answered right away. “Whatcha doing?” she asked.

  “Still watching Ethan’s door,” she said, “with Waycross, of course.”

  “Of course.” Savannah laughed and nodded to Dirk. “What number is it?”

  “Three fifteen.”

  “We’ll be right there.”

  “Good. ’Cause we could both really, really use a potty break.”

  Savannah and Dirk found Tammy and Waycross exactly where she’d said, down the hall, eyes glued to the door of room 315.

  “Good Lord, Tammy,” Savannah said. “You aren’t guarding the president, for heaven’s sake. Go pee, both of you.”

  As they raced down the hallway toward their respective rooms, Savannah and Dirk laughed.

  “I wish there was that kind of dedication on the job,” Dirk said. “If I had a few like her in the department, I wouldn’t have to work half as hard.”

  “Yeah, but she makes me tired, just watching her.” She pointed to the door. “And hungry. Let’s go get this wrapped up. I want to hit one of those famous buffets.”

  They walked up to the door, and Dirk stretched out his hand to knock on it.

  “Hey,” she said. “You’ve been doing a lot of that lately. My turn.”

  As she nudged him aside, she whispered, “It’d be better if he looks through the keyhole and sees me instead of you.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m prettier. And if you were a guy, wouldn’t you open a door faster for a woman than some dude you didn’t know?”

  “What do you mean, if I were a guy?”

  “Shhh.”

  She knocked and listened. The television was on pretty loud inside, but someone turned down the volume. Then she heard footsteps approaching.

  “Yes?” a male voice said. “Who is it?”

  “Housekeeping,” she replied, trying to sound like a tired, bored, hotel maid and not an investigator with her pulse thudding.

  “I don’t need anything. Thank you.”

  “I have to turn down your bed.”

  “It’s down. I’m in it. Thanks anyway.”

  She could hear the footsteps walking away. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Yeah, leave it up to you,” Dirk said. “If you were a woman, maybe you’d have been able to—”

  “Watch it.”

  She knocked on the door a second time, a little harder and a bit more insistent.

  Again the steps approached. “Yes?” he said on the other side. “Really, I don’t need turndown service. Thank you. Good night.”

  “But, sir, I’ll get in trouble if I don’t give you your mints; it’ll just take a moment and then I’ll leave you alone.”

  There was a pause, then the rattling of a chain.

  She turned and made a face at Dirk.

  When he didn’t return her mug, but reached inside his jacket to unsnap his weapon’s holster, she sobered up a bit, too.

  It was great fun getting to lie to strangers and outsmart them for a good cause, but they were hunting a killer. And it was time to get down to business.

  Ethan opened the door, and when he saw Savannah, he gave her a warm smile and reached out his hand for the promised candy. But when he saw Dirk standing beside her, his warmth evaporated.

  “Hey,” he said, backing away from the door. “What’s this?”

  Dirk put his foot in the door before he could close it. “Not what you think. We’re not here to rob you.”

  “Oh.” He gave a nervous little laugh. “Good.”

  “Naw, it’s not that good,” Savannah said. “In fact, by the time we’re done, you might even think it’s worse.”

  By the time twenty minutes had passed, it was Savannah and Dirk who were hating the visit as much or even more than Ethan Aberson.

  They had gone in the same verbal circle with him enough times that Savannah was getting dizzy.

  She had decided five minutes into the interview that it was a mistake to do this on an empty stomach. Her brain never functioned at full capacity without a generous helping of carbs.

  Chocolate never hurt either.

  “I don’t know what that man and that girl at the brothel were talking about,” Ethan said for the fifth time as he paced back and forth the length of the small room. “I went there once, yes. That’s perfectly legal here in
Nevada.”

  Dirk shifted in the small chair he was sitting in next to the table. Savannah sat across from him, equally restless.

  “But you told them, paid them, in fact, to lie about where you were the day after that,” he said. “Don’t tell us that you didn’t again, because my friend here doesn’t like being lied to. In fact, she chewed up and spit out the big Russian guy who runs that dive for lying to us about your so-called second visit. The one that didn’t happen.”

  “You paid them to say that you were there, when you were here in the hotel,” Savannah said. “We absolutely know that. And you’re losing all credibility by telling us otherwise.”

  “If you have solid evidence that I was here in the hotel,” Ethan said, running his fingers wearily through his thick silver hair, “why are you harassing me like this? I couldn’t have been here in this hotel and in San Carmelita murdering Madeline at the same time, now could I?”

  It was true, of course, Savannah told herself. But there was still something very peculiar about this business of establishing a false alibi, even if it turned out that you had a better one elsewhere.

  She knew bull-pucky when she smelled it, and from where she stood, she could swear she was standing in the middle of a dairy’s grazing field.

  “Look,” Ethan said, “I’m sure that if you’ve been investigating my wife and her life for the past few days, it didn’t take you long to find out that we didn’t like each other, to say the least. But I didn’t kill her. I don’t know who did. I’m not the only person who was on the outs with her.”

  “We know that,” Dirk said. “But we also know that divorces, and especially bitter custody battles, bring out the worst in people. Then we find out that you’re hanging out in brothels, and bribing the prostitute and pimp to lie for you. We have to find out what that’s about.”

  Ethan walked over to the bed and abruptly sat down on it, as though his legs had just given out beneath him.

  “Listen,” he said. “I’m going to tell you one more time, and you can believe me or not. I went to Monique’s that first day that you’re talking about. I went and ... to be embarrassingly frank ... I couldn’t ... you know. I’d never gone to a place like that before. I guess I was just in a weird mood because of all the stress Madeline put me through. Anyway ...”