Vegas, Lies, and Murder

by Sibel Hodge

  I led them into the dimly lit room. There were three guys already in there, having lap dances, and we walked past their booths and into the centre of the room. I wanted to spread them out a bit so they could watch and listen to anything going on, so I put Hacker in the corner, Brad in the middle, and Dad next to one of the guys already there. I took their orders for champagne and headed back to the bar, past the throng of customers and dancers. If the King really had been alive, he would’ve been singing ‘Girls! Girls! Girls!’.

  ‘Three bottles of Cristal, please,’ I said to Cooper, then I walked up to Heavenly, who hadn’t been working the previous night. She was another busty, long-legged, big-haired blonde and was hanging around the bar, waiting to pounce on a free guy at the tables and entice him to have a lap dance. ‘I’ve got three guys in the group VIP waiting for a girl.’ I described them to her.

  ‘Sure.’ She nodded. ‘I’ll take the older guy. I like a bit of maturity.’

  I cringed inside and found Brandi for Hacker and Delight for Brad. I don’t want to be mean, but Delight was the ugliest girl there. She was slightly cross-eyed, and if you looked closely, you could see that she had a bit of a moustache going on. OK, so my green-eyed monster hadn’t totally disappeared.

  I took their drinks to them, trying to ignore the gyrating hips and thrusting boobs, and as I was walking back to the bar, I spotted a guy who looked like he could be Paul Winger. He leaned over the bar and said something to Cooper, who nodded, picked up the phone, and spoke for a few moments.

  ‘Hi. Can I get you anything, handsome?’ I asked the guy, flashing a sultry smile.

  He glanced at me. Well, not at me—at my breasts, specifically. I pushed my cleavage out. Good job Brad had bought me a new push-up bra.

  ‘Hello,’ he said with a leering grin. ‘You’re new here, aren’t you? What’s your name?’

  ‘Chardonnay.’ I smiled.

  ‘Well, Chardonnay, I’ll be in one of the private VIP rooms soon. I’ll have a cognac sent in there.’ He licked his lips at me, and it made my skin crawl.

  ‘Absolutely.’ I put his order in with Cooper and whispered to him, ‘Is that Paul Winger?’

  Cooper nodded.

  Ivan appeared from the corridor to his office and shook Paul’s hand with a slimy smile plastered over his face. They chatted for a few moments. Paul glanced around the room and pointed to Tia. Ivan nodded. Paul disappeared up the corridor that led to the private rooms, and Ivan walked up to Tia and said something. Tia looked briefly at me before following Ivan in the same direction Paul had just gone.

  Cooper placed a glass of amber liquid on my tray, and I tottered off in my stilettos.

  Bruce-slash-Watermelon Arms was in the corridor of the private rooms, clipboard in hand, staring at his feet.

  ‘Hey, thweetie!’ I said, unable to resist taking the piss out of him.

  ‘Hey, Thardonnay. Howth it going tonight?’ He looked at my boobs, too. Perv.

  ‘Bithy. Loth of people in.’ I cracked a smile. ‘Which room ith Paul Winger in?’

  He jerked his head towards the end room.

  ‘Thankth!’

  I opened the door. Paul sat in the middle of a beige vinyl sofa along the back wall, arms spread out along the top, knees wide open. Tia was dancing in front of him, and he watched, practically drooling. I set his drinks mat and cognac on the glass coffee table to his side and winked at Tia on the way out. I closed the door behind me, hoping Tia would do a bit of flirting to try and eke out something useful.

  Next, I entered the group VIP room and wandered around, checking on drinks. A guy with buckteeth and thick glasses ordered a rum and coke, so I hotfooted it back to the bar. I was scanning the room for Mum or Suzy when I noticed a tall black guy coming in. He was skinny, dressed in baggy jeans and a really baggy hoodie that looked as though it had been washed on the wrong setting. His hair was in plaited weaves. At either side of him was a big, beefy black minder.

  My mouth fell open. My heart rate kicked up a notch. This was either the real Snoop Dogg or some other VIP who looked a lot like him! Uh-oh! I practically flew back to the group VIP lounge.

  Brandi was bent over in front of Hacker, jiggling her butt cheeks. Not twerking, exactly. I don’t know what you’d call it—twiggling? Hacker was wide-eyed, not quite believing what he was seeing, gulping down champagne.

  I leaned over and whispered in his ear, ‘You have to get the guys and get out of here. I think the real Snoop Dogg is in the club!’

  Hacker’s wide eyes nearly pinged out then. He leaped up, hurried over to Brad, and whispered to him. Brad grabbed Dad. They threw some money for the bill at Pinhead on the way out and hurried down the corridor. Pinhead was so busy picking his nose that he was caught off guard. He didn’t know whether to scrabble around on the floor for the money or chase after them. I didn’t stay to find out. I trotted behind, out onto the club floor, cursing my shoes for the squillionth time.

  The guy I thought was the real Snoop Dogg was at a table with his bodyguards, watching Suzy on stage, engrossed in the show. Knowing what an exhibitionist she was turning out to be, she probably would want a part in his next video of scantily clad women.

  Just as Brad, Hacker, and Dad reached the exit door, I caught sight of Ivan storming out onto the club floor, a thunderous frown on his face, closely followed by Cooper, who’d obviously pointed out there was a Snoop impersonator in the house.

  Cooper pointed to the closing entrance door. Ivan looked between it and the new VIP. Then his gaze caught mine. I smiled and gave him a finger wave. He beckoned me towards him, eyes flashing angrily.

  Crapping hell!

  ‘Hi, do you want a drink, Ivan?’ I played it dumb.

  He pointed at me then jerked his thumb in the direction of the office corridor. ‘Get in my office and wait for me.’

  ‘OK.’ I shrugged casually and walked up the corridor, glancing back over my shoulder. Ivan was gushing over the black guy and his crew. Then he clicked his fingers at London, probably to call her over and get them some drinks.

  There was a different bouncer, called Frank, outside Ivan’s office this time. He had a thick bulldog neck and a grey complexion with a slight Russian accent. I’d nicknamed him Frankenstein.

  Frankenstein looked me up and down. ‘Yeah? What do you want? Ivan’s on the floor.’

  ‘Ivan told me to wait in his office.’

  Frankenstein opened the door for me. ‘Go on, then.’

  I walked in, and he shut the door behind me. This little stuff-up gave me a chance to look around while Ivan was busy. But where did I start, and what exactly was I looking for? It wasn’t likely I was going to find something that would lead me to Dana, and I was sure we already knew what she’d stolen from Ivan. And Ivan wouldn’t have told me to wait in his office if there was anything incriminating lying around in there. I watched the CCTV surveillance instead. The TV screen was filled up with Paul Winger, who was bent over the table, snorting up a line of coke. Tia sat next to him, sipping champagne, an arm draped around his neck, giggling and flirting. Go, Tia!

  Paul sat back up straight and shook his head quickly. The drugs must have kicked in. The audio feed was on this time, and I could hear their conversation pretty clearly over the music in the private room, which Winger must’ve turned down with the remote control.

  ‘You’re so hot. How about giving me some extras?’

  Tia giggled again. ‘Sorry, house rules. No extras.’

  ‘Go on—it will be our little secret. I’ll make sure you’re paid well.’ He wound one of her curls around his finger and licked his lips.

  Tia pushed him gently back with a fingertip to his chest. ‘I don’t want to lose my job,’ she said huskily.

  ‘We could get out of here. I keep a private apartment in town. No one would have to know.’

  She tossed her bouncy blonde curls over her shoulder and said coyly, ‘I’m not that kind of girl.’

  Paul put his arm around her waist and slid her
closer to him.

  Tia stood up. ‘Let me do another dance for you instead.’ She walked towards the pole.

  Bruce opened their door and poked his head in for a casual checkup on Tia. Seeing nothing suspect was going on, and Paul wasn’t getting any afters, he shut the door again.

  That’s when it hit me, and I knew what had been bugging me about the video evidence Dana must’ve stolen. I didn’t have time to think about it anymore, though, because Ivan burst into the room.

  He gave me a filthy scowl and sat behind his desk. ‘Right. Start talking.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘When I was a kid, I was playing football in a field with one of my neighbours, and I fell over in a cowpat and broke my wrist. It was—’

  ‘What the fuck are you blabbering on about?’ He leaned forward, scrunching his face up in confusion.

  I shrugged. ‘What? You told me to start talking, but you didn’t say what about.’ I thought it was best to play the idiot.

  ‘Start talking about the Snoop Dogg imposter and his posse you brought into the club. The one I supplied with some…’ He thought for a moment, searching for the right words. ‘… recreational tools.’

  ‘I didn’t bring them in!’ I gave him my best offended gasp. ‘I was already working, and they came through the door. I thought he was Snoop Dogg. So did you. So did everyone else.’

  ‘I’ve never actually seen Snoop Dogg. I don’t watch those semi-porno videos those rappers do.’

  I opened my mouth to point out the irony in that, seeing as he was running a lap-dancing club, but then thought better of it.

  ‘You were the one who said he was Snoop Dogg.’ He glared at me.

  ‘Did not.’

  ‘Did.’

  ‘Not.’

  ‘Yes, you did!’ He slapped a palm on the table then picked up a partially smoked cigar from a crystal ashtray on his desk, lit it, and puffed away furiously.

  ‘What are you worried about anyway? So what if he was pretending to be Snoop Dogg?’

  ‘Because I only supply drugs to my VIP regulars and celebrities—people who have discretion and don’t want it getting out any more than I do!’ His face turned an angry shade of… well, I don’t know what it was, exactly—eggplant mixed with exploding beetroot. ‘This is supposed to be a reputable gentleman’s club!’

  I was really good, then. I didn’t even laugh at that.

  ‘What if they were the feds doing an undercover investigation?’ he yelled.

  ‘Well, I can’t see you’ve got anything to worry about. The district attorney’s a regular here, and I’ve seen him indulging. He’s not going to let them try to prosecute you, is he?’ I batted my eyelids like a dimwit while fishing for information. ‘Surely, he must give you some kind of protection.’

  ‘He can’t protect me from the FBI, you idiot! Protection from the local cops is a completely different ballgame. Paul Winger doesn’t have any clout with the feds.’ He puffed again and blew the smoke in my direction.

  I wafted a hand in front of my face. ‘The FBI wouldn’t be interested in a bit of dealing on the premises, would they?’

  ‘No, not usually. But I still can’t have any unwanted attention in my club.’ He pointed two fingers at me and wiggled them. ‘I’m watching you. One more stunt like that, and you’re out.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything!’ I protested.

  He pointed at the door. ‘Get back to work.’

  I saluted him. ‘Yes, sir!’

  I walked past Frankenstein, thinking that Ivan had to be the stupidest criminal on the planet. Even if Paul Winger protected him, all the staff in the club must know what they were both up to. One of them could easily have gone to the FBI about the drugs flying around here. Was that person Dana? Was that where she’d really been heading the night she disappeared? From what Ivan had said, it sounded as if Paul Winger might have other corrupt local police officers under his wing, and Ivan’s worry about any FBI interest seemed to confirm that. If Dana knew that, she probably didn’t know who to trust in the Vegas Police Department, so she might’ve contacted the FBI instead. Maybe she was hiding somewhere, ready to go to them when this all died down a bit, or maybe she’d made it to them, and they had her in some kind of witness-protection programme, and she couldn’t contact Elvis to let him know she was OK. Or maybe the FBI had already been investigating Winger and any corrupt colleagues, and they’d approached Dana to be an informer.

  When I got back to the main floor, Cooper caught my eye and waved me over.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Cooper said. ‘Even I thought that other guy was Snoop Dogg. He was his double.’

  ‘Thanks. I really need this job. I don’t want to get fired.’ I gave him starving-puppy dog eyes.

  ‘You’ll be OK.’ He poured a hefty shot of cognac into a glass. ‘Here. This is for Paul Winger.’

  I slid my tray onto the bar, and Cooper put the glass on it. As I weaved through the busy floor, I spotted Pinhead, hoisting up a guy who was drunkenly slumped at one of the tables. I walked up the private VIP corridor, which was now bouncer-less, and met Tia coming out of Paul’s room.

  ‘Hey, Lady Penelope,’ I said.

  ‘Hey, Chardonnay.’ She walked past me, a knowing grin on her face.

  I was just about to open the door when I heard Ivan’s voice coming from inside.

  I pressed my ear to it.

  ‘We might’ve had some undercover feds in here,’ Ivan said.

  Paul’s first reply was muffled. Then I heard him say, ‘Don’t worry. No one’s going to touch this place. I’ve got it all sorted.’

  ‘They might’ve found out about Saturday.’

  ‘How are they going to find out?’ Paul said, slurring his words. ‘Or are you telling me someone else knows? Fuck, Ivan, I trusted you with this! I could’ve gone to someone else and let them do it.’

  There was a pause. Then Ivan said, ‘No, of course no one knows.’

  ‘Good. Then it’s all covered. Saturday night is going to be easy. The whole police department is covering the fight. It’s the biggest match in boxing history, and about fifty thousand people have flown in to either watch it at the MGM or in the bars and hotels. The police will all be tied up, making sure no trouble kicks off in the streets with the fans and making sure all the celebrities who are ringside are well looked after.’

  ‘You’d better be sure.’

  ‘I’m definitely sure. It’s all organised. You just keep up your end of the bargain.’ Paul said something else that was unintelligible. Then I heard him say the word ‘Rhino.’

  ‘My guys will do the raid like we talked about,’ Ivan said. ‘You just make sure the police keep away from it as planned.’

  ‘All officers will be pulled off regular duties to cover the fight. No one will be watching it. I’ve organised my guys to disable the alarm and CCTV cameras. You can get in and out without being disturbed or seen.’

  ‘You’d better be right.’

  Paul’s voice was once again muffled but I caught the word ‘horny’ and thought he’d be asking Ivan to bring in another girl any minute. I dashed down the corridor and hung back, waiting for Ivan to come out, so he wouldn’t think I’d overheard them. I didn’t have to wait long. A minute later, Ivan exited, and I pretended I’d just been walking up. He stomped past me, and I flashed him a smile as I headed to Paul’s room, all the while thinking, Interesting. Very, very interesting.

  Chapter 16

  I phoned Brad when we left the club. The guys were in the Chandelier Bar at the Cosmopolitan, an amazing place on three levels enshrouded by a sparkling crystal chandelier that looked as if it was actually a living thing.

  Instead of an apple genie, which I’d had second thoughts about because I hated gin, I ordered an appletini from the Chandelier Bar cocktail menu. Next, I was going to order a strawberry daiquiri and then a banana banshee. At that rate I’d be able to get my five-a-day in alcohol. How cool was that? And, as a bonus, I bet those drinks had loads of Vitamin
C.

  I sat back in my chair. ‘OK, so I’ve found out some interesting stuff.’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘It was bugging me why Ivan was so worried about Dana stealing footage of Paul doing drugs or trying to solicit the girls. He’s in there all the time, and Ivan must have a lot more of the same footage he could blackmail Paul with, which got me thinking.’ I glanced around to make sure they were all taking it in. ‘There must’ve been something else on the footage Dana stole. Something even more incriminating. I think it’s about a crime they’re going to carry out on Saturday night, when the police will be tied up with the big boxing match.’

  ‘Oooh, really?’ Tia sipped her chocolate kiss cocktail. I was definitely going to order one of those, too.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I overheard Ivan and Paul talking privately in one of the VIP rooms, and Ivan was worried about you guys being undercover FBI agents posing as a celebrity group.’ I filled them in on what I had overheard and how Ivan had implied that Paul had control of the local police department but no control of any FBI investigation. ‘Ivan also mentioned a raid that he’s going to be carrying out on Saturday night.’

  I glugged my cocktail and licked my lips. Yummy. ‘So, Ivan didn’t mention anything to Paul about Dana having stolen video footage with him on it. Which means that Paul doesn’t know anything about her finding out what they’ve been cooking up, which also would mean he doesn’t know the private rooms are recorded, just like we thought.’

  Brad nodded. ‘What else did they say about this raid?’

  ‘Well, I could hear some things clearly. Ivan said it’s happening on Saturday night. Paul told him that the police are being pulled off their regular duties to cover the fight, so there won’t be anyone watching it. And he said his guys were going to disable the alarm and cameras on site.’