He had Debra’s apartment number, on the second level. He knocked, and exchanged glances with the two girls while the man glared at him. He could tell they were flirting with him the way they kicked at the water and leaned back on their hands, thrusting their bikini-covered breasts forward. (OK, maybe not his ego.)
The door was opened by a pretty girl in her late twenties, who worked in the accounting department at the Sands. She had red hair, and was wearing a green, spaghetti-strapped cocktail dress.
‘Yes?’
‘Miss Runnels?’
‘That’s right.’
‘My name’s Danny Bardini,’ he said. ‘I’m investigating the death of Helen Simms, at the Sands?’
‘Oh, God,’ she said, going pale. ‘That was awful. You know, I coulda walked into that ladies room and found her?’
‘That would have been terrible for you,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you didn’t. Could I come in? I just need to ask you a few questions.’
‘Well … I’m waiting for my date, but … I suppose so.’
‘Thank you.’
She allowed him to enter, then peered out the door before closing it.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I don’t have anything to offer you—’
‘That’s OK,’ he said. ‘I won’t be here long.’
‘I don’t know what I can tell you.’
‘Well, you can tell me why some of the people I spoke to at the Sands told me you didn’t like Helen very much.’
‘Oh.’ The girl hugged herself, as if she’d suddenly grown cold. She was slender, with a lithe figure that showed the result of regular exercise. He figured she got a lot of use out of the swimming pool. She had small breasts and a tiny waist, probably looked great in a bikini.
He continued to watch her and wait.
‘Well …’ she said. ‘Um … I talked to the other detectives when they came to the office.’
Once again, he had not claimed to be a police detective but he said, ‘I’m doing some follow up interviews.’ He decided to take a shot. ‘Besides, you didn’t tell the other detectives that you didn’t like her.’
‘Well … I …’ Suddenly, she got a pugnacious look on her face and he half expected her to stamp her foot. ‘Nobody liked her!’
‘Why is that?’
‘She was a bitch!’ She put her hands over her mouth, as if she couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud. If it was an act, it was a good one.
‘To everyone?’
‘To most people,’ she said.
‘To you?’
‘Oh yes,’ Debra said, ‘she was mean to me.’
‘Why is that?’
‘I think because I’m young and pretty. She was old, you know.’
Yes, he knew, she was just under forty. Terribly old.
‘She didn’t like pretty girls,’ Debra said.
‘What about men?’
‘A couple of the men tried to chat her up, but she was awful to them. I don’t even know why they tried. She was … well, old.’
‘Right.’
‘I mean if you’re mean and bitchy to everybody you’ve got to expect them to dislike you.’
‘Or hate?’
She made a face. ‘Hate is such an ugly word. I was brought up not to hate anyone, but …’
‘But?’
‘She tested me,’ she said.
‘She was mean.’
‘Very.’
‘Was she good at her job?’
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘very. As much as you might dislike her, nobody could say she didn’t do her job. Mr Entratter trusted her completely.’
Danny fingered the matchbook in his pocket.
‘What do you know about a club called the Happy Devil?’
‘The what? A club?’ The girl looked confused. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘Never heard of it?’
‘Wha— well, no, I haven’t. Is that in town?’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
She checked her watch.
‘Your date?’
‘He’s late.’
‘First date?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He’s not making a good impression.’
‘One more question,’ he said. ‘Did Helen ever do anything to you? I mean, anything specific that might have hurt you?’
‘She treated me like dirt,’ Debra said, ‘and I’m not the only one. She showed no respect for anyone at the Sands – except for Mr Entratter. But she never did anything particularly mean to hurt me, personally.’
‘Did she do anything specific to anyone you know?’
‘You said one last question.’
‘I’ll make this the last one,’ he said, ‘depending on your answer.’
‘Well …’
He continued to wait.
‘She got Walter fired.’
‘Walter?’
‘Walter Spires,’ she said. ‘He used to … make fun of her. I mean, it was funny to the rest of us, but she didn’t like it. So she got Mr Entratter to fire him.’
‘How?’
‘She told him that Walter … approached her … you know … sexually.’
‘And that was a lie?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘Walter was funny, and nice. He wouldn’t do anything like that.’
‘How did Walter take getting fired?’
‘Not well. Badly, actually. He said—’
‘What did he say?’
‘He said he was gonna make her pay.’
‘When was this?’
‘A couple of months ago.’
‘Have you seen Walter since then?’ Danny asked.
‘Just once,’ she said.
‘Where?’
‘On the street. He was … different.’
‘In what way?’
‘He used to dress nice, neat, you know? And he was funny. When I saw him he was wearing old clothes, you know, military green? Like he got them from a … a …’
‘Army surplus?’
‘That’s it. And he wasn’t funny, at all. He was … bitter. Mad. He still talked about getting even with Helen.’ She bit her pretty lower lip and then said, ‘To be honest, he scared me.’
‘Do you know where Walter lives?’
‘No.’
Danny knew Walter’s name was not on his list, so he’d have to get the address from the personnel department the next day.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘Thanks for talking to me. I hope your date shows up.’
She checked her watch, again.
‘He’s fifteen minutes late, now,’ she said. She eyed Danny. ‘Maybe I should go to dinner with somebody else.’
But he didn’t bite.
‘I’m sure he’ll be here,’ he said, and left.
THIRTY-EIGHT
The second stop for Danny was a man named Ted Donnelly. I didn’t know him, but according to Danny he worked on the fourth floor as a bookkeeper. He lived in the downstairs portion of a two family house on Decatur Street in north Las Vegas.
Danny parked in front and rang the downstairs bell. The door was opened by a bland looking man with a small mustache and thinning hair, both of which gave the impression of being colorless. That is, it was hard to say if they were sandy, blonde, brown; nothing seemed to fit.
‘Yes?’ he asked, looking a good six inches up at Danny.
‘Mr Donnelly?’
‘That’s right.’
‘My name is Danny Bardini,’ Danny said. ‘I’m looking into the death of Helen Simms at the Sands.’
Donnelly frowned.
‘Are you a policeman?’
Ah, somebody had finally asked.
‘No,’ Danny said, ‘I’m private.’
‘Who are you working for?’
‘Jack Entratter.’
Donnelly hesitated.
‘You can call him and check.’
‘Come in, then,’ Donnelly said. ‘Close the door behind you.’
Danny obeyed and
followed the man into an equally non-descript living room.
‘Do you have identification?’ Donnelly asked.
‘Sure.’ Danny produced his license and handed it to the man, who studied it closely then returned it.
‘I’ve already talked to the police detectives,’ he said.
‘I understand that,’ Danny said, ‘but the police are kind of limited in their scope when it comes to this case.’
‘Meaning what, exactly?’ Donnelly asked, folding his arms. Not as mild mannered as he appeared.
‘They believe Helen Simms killed herself.’
‘And you don’t?’
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘There are reasons,’ Danny said. ‘I need to know why you disliked her so much.’
‘Who said I did?’
Danny smiled. ‘Everyone.’
‘Yes, well, I certainly wasn’t alone,’ Donnelly said.
‘Because?’
‘She was a queen bitch.’
‘Lots of women wear that crown,’ Danny said.
‘Well, she wore it better than most. I seemed to be a pet project of hers,’ he said. ‘She was never happy with anything I did.’
‘But she wasn’t your boss.’
‘No, but she had Mr Entratter’s ear.’
‘Do you think she could have gotten you fired if she wanted to?’
Donnelly snorted and said, ‘Yes. She did it to Walter Spires.’
‘Walter?’
‘Lied about him to Mr Entratter, who fired him.’
‘How did Walter feel about that?’
‘He wasn’t happy,’ Donnelly said. ‘Swore to get even.’ His eyes went wide. ‘You don’t think Walter killed her, do you?’
‘Maybe,’ Danny said. ‘Would anyone have thought it as odd to see Walter on the fourth floor?’
‘Could be,’ Donnelly said. ‘But he could’ve been there trying to get his job back.’
‘Have you seen Walter since he was fired?’
‘No.’
‘Do you know where he lives?’
‘No. We weren’t friends outside of work.’
‘Mr Donnelly, do you know anyone else who might have had it in for Helen?’
‘Lots of people,’ he said, ‘but nobody who would kill her.’
Again, Danny put his hand in his pocket to touch the matches.
‘Have you ever heard of a club called the Happy Devil?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Is that important?’
‘Not right now. Thanks for talking to me, Mr Donnelly.’
‘You make sure Mr Entratter knows I cooperated with you?’ he asked.
‘Definitely,’ Danny said.
Walking back to his car he thought about Walter Spires, but he wouldn’t be able to check on him until the next day. On this night he still had to check out the Happy Devil …
‘They both brought up Spires,’ Danny said. ‘Did you know him, Eddie?’
We had finished our breakfast and were lingering over coffee.
‘No,’ I said, ‘never did.’
‘Well, I need to know where he lives. Or where he lived when he worked at the Sands.’
‘I can do that tomorrow,’ I said. ‘What about the club? Is that where you guys got your lumps?’
Danny sat back and waved at the waitress for more coffee.
‘Let me tell it … this is where Jerry came in.’
THIRTY-NINE
Jerry couldn’t find Danny, but from the last time he was in town he remembered where Penny lived. After checking the office on Fremont Street and finding it locked up, he drove the Caddy to Penny’s apartment house.
‘Oh!’ she said, surprised as she opened the door and saw the big man standing there. She recovered quickly, though. ‘Jerry! How nice.’
‘I hope I ain’t botherin’ ya,’ he said.
‘No, no, of course not.’ She glanced out into the hall. ‘Where’s Eddie?’
‘Back at the Sands,’ he said. ‘He was worried when we couldn’t find Danny. Called you but didn’t get an answer.’
‘Come in,’ she said.
Jerry entered, shut the door.
‘I just got back,’ she said. ‘I had dinner with Danny. He’s fine.’
‘That’s good. Do you know where he is?’
‘He said he was going to check out some club tonight. The Happy Devil?’
‘I don’t know it.’
‘Well, it’s a … sex club. He thinks maybe the dead woman went there a lot.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘since I’m out, do you know where it is? Maybe I can back him up.’
‘Oh, that would be great. Yes, I can tell you where it is …’
Danny parked down the street from the club, which was located in an area near the city’s strip clubs, along Industrial Road. Obviously, the people running the club hoped to hide it there.
He had to pay a cover charge to get in. The man taking the money looked like a typical bouncer, but passed him in fairly easily, once he paid. He was surprised until he got inside. There was a second door manned by two bouncers. Apparently, they could still turn you away once you’d paid to get into the building. Slick.
One of them put his hand on Danny’s chest and said, ‘Members only.’
‘How do I become a member?’ Danny asked. He wondered if they knew he wasn’t already a member, or they just assumed it.
‘Gotta be sponsored,’ the other man said.
‘By a member,’ the first man said.
‘In writing?’ Danny asked.
‘Naw,’ the first one said.
Danny thought a moment, then said, ‘How about Helen Simms?’
The second man looked at the first who said, ‘Yeah, I know Helen.’
‘Actually,’ Danny went on, ‘she told me to meet her here. She inside?’
‘Naw, she ain’t been here tonight,’ first one said. ‘In fact, I ain’t seen ’er in a week or so. Not since—’ He stopped short.
‘Not since what?’
‘Never mind,’ the first one said. ‘Before we let you in we gotta frisk you.’
‘For what?’
‘Don’t want nobody goin’ in with a gun, or any other weapon.’
‘Wow,’ Danny said, lifting his arms, ‘people try to get in here with guns?’
‘It’s been known to happen,’ the second man said, as the first one checked him. He’d left his gun in the glove compartment of his car.
‘OK,’ the first man said. ‘Go ahead in. Have a good time.’
‘There’s some hot bitches in there tonight,’ the second man said and winked.
Danny started through the curtained doorway, then stopped and said, ‘You fellas ever get to, uh, dip your wicks?’
The second man grinned. ‘Once in a while …’
‘Shut up, Manny,’ the first man said. ‘Go ahead in, sport.’
‘Sure,’ Danny said. ‘Thanks.’
He went inside, having learned something, already. One, Helen was a member; two, she hadn’t been there in at least a week; and three, the last time she was there, something happened.
Now all he had to do was find out what.
Danny had spent an hour at the Happy Devil, talking to some of the ladies, fending off a few of them – aged from twenty to fifty, who wanted to take him into a back room – and talking to the bartenders. He keyed on the fact that something had happened about a week ago, pretended to have heard ‘something’ about it, which made him curious.
While he didn’t go into any of the back rooms, he did peek into a few. Lots of naked limbs, acres of flesh. And he didn’t have to go into back rooms to see that. There were booths in the main section of the club that were being used, as well.
But he had apparently asked too many questions, because while he was sitting at the bar, nursing the same beer, three of the bouncers approached him, the one who had admitted him to the building, and the two who had frisked him.
‘Time to go, champ,’ the first one who fri
sked him said.
The second one, Manny, grabbed his arm around the bicep.
‘Hey, ease up, fella,’ Danny said. ‘Can I finish my beer?’
The third man picked up the beer and moved it beyond his reach.
‘Beer’s finished.’
Danny had a bad feeling, got to his feet. Manny tightened his hold.
‘What’s this about?’
‘Outside,’ the first one said, ‘or we’ll make a scene right here.’
‘That’s OK with me,’ Danny said. ‘Make a scene here and maybe somebody will call the cops.’
‘We make a scene here,’ the first man said, leaning in close, ‘and you won’t last long enough for the cops to find you.’
The bouncer who let him into the building – number three – grabbed his other arm.
‘Let’s walk,’ number one said.
They walked him across the club floor, and nobody even paid attention. Some very odd things must have gone on in that club in the past, including something a week ago that included Helen Simms.
‘Listen,’ Danny said, ‘can we talk? I just need to ask a few questions.’
‘No more questions.’
FORTY
Instead of walking him out of the building, they took him down a hall, stopped in front of a door and knocked.
‘Come,’ someone said.
They pushed Danny into an office, and a beefy man in his forties, wearing a decent but not expensive suit, was standing behind a desk.
‘Sit him down.’
They planted him in a chair in front of the desk. The two bouncers took their hands from his arms, and planted them on his shoulders. He couldn’t have gotten to his feet if he tried.
‘Get his wallet,’ the man said.
‘Hey, listen, are you the manager?’ he asked.
‘Manager, owner,’ the man said, as the first bouncer took Danny’s wallet from his pocket. The manager snapped his fingers and was handed the wallet. He opened it to check Danny’s ID.
‘Private dick,’ he said, dropping the wallet on his desk. ‘What are you doing in my club?’
Danny decided to be honest.
‘Asking questions.’
The Way You Die Tonight Page 11
