by AR Winters
I smiled. “Yes, it is.”
Stone was wearing his usual uniform – white button-down shirt, dark blue jeans. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wearing anything else.
“I hope the food is as nice,” I said, sitting down opposite him. A tiny vase containing what looked like a fake yellow rose sat in the center of the small table, one of about twenty scattered around the place. I was glad I’d picked somewhere other than Jerry’s for once – although I would miss having waffles and whipped cream for dinner.
Tony’s Bistro was a ten minute walk away from the Treasury. It had opened last month, and I could tell it would soon be popular – although it was still early, the place was half-full, with workers on their way to casino and club jobs and even the occasional tourist. The exposed brick walls were hung with maps of the Paris metro and London subway, and there were a few artsy black-and-white photos thrown in for good measure. The smell baking pizzas wafted out of the kitchen, and there were no slot machines or neon lights in sight.
After we’d placed our orders – a steak for Stone, and beef lasagna for me – I decided to ask about getting my hands on the Mandalay Bay footage.
“Aaron’s your guy,” said Stone. He pulled out his wallet and rifled through until he found a business card, which he slid over. It said, “Aaron Chavez, Security and Operations.” “Tell him I sent you.”
“Do you do work for them?”
“Yes. I’ve got the footage, but it’ll be good for you to keep in touch with the other security guys.”
I nodded. I should get to know the casino security guys, in case Stone ever went on holiday and I needed a favor.
We chatted a bit about Vegas, and some crazy casino visitors, and then Stone asked if I had any siblings.
“Nope. You?”
“Younger brother.”
Our food arrived, and we both dug in. “What about your parents?” I asked. “Are they around?”
Stone stared at his steak, chewing thoughtfully. He was silent for so long, that I thought he’d refuse to answer me. But then he said, “My mom’s around. I mean, she lives in Indiana. I never knew my dad.”
“Oh.” I’d never thought of Stone as ever having a family – I’d seen him all alone for so long. I’d assumed that even as a six-year-old, he’d worn dark jeans and a white shirt every day, and refused to answer questions about himself. “Do you see her often?”
Stone shrugged. “Once in a while. What about your parents, how are they doing? Have they found out about Nanna’s poker playing?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s still a secret.” I had a nagging feeling that Stone didn’t want to talk much about his mother and was trying to change the subject. And then I remembered. “When you first met my parents, you told them that neither of your parents are around.”
Stone looked at me warily. “I try not to talk about my family. It’s safer for them.”
I frowned. “You said both of them were dead.”
“I never knew my dad. He’s always been dead to me. And my mom— it’s safer for her. If I say… you know.”
I stared at my beef lasagna, struggling with my thoughts. I didn’t want to pry. And Stone wouldn’t answer. But I had to ask. “Safer— how?”
Stone looked at me and shook his head. “Let’s talk about something else. How’s your nanna doing?”
I wondered what was going on with his mom. But instead of being nosy, I told him about Nanna’s new boyfriend, and he smiled.
“Trust her to find someone who hates Vegas,” he said.
“Anyway.” I took a deep breath. “I need to ask you something. That guy you had me follow— who was staying at the McCarran Hilton, remember?” Stone nodded, and I went on. “Who was he?”
Stone was watching me closely. “Why do you ask?”
“I’d like to know.”
He put down his fork, and leaned back in his chair. “He was a model who was coming into Vegas. I hired him to see if you’d actually give up a whole day to do a job for me.”
“How could you doubt that? You think I’d say no, after all you’ve done for me?”
Stone shook his head. “I wanted to be sure. And I didn’t want… I wasn’t sure how you’d feel working for me on a job, and you always said you didn’t want to work for friends.”
“This is different!”
Stone raised one shoulder in a sorta-shrug. “I just needed to be sure you were ok working for me. The next job’s unpredictable. I don’t know when the guy will land, and you’ll have to call in sick. You could get into trouble at your casino gig.”
I smiled. I had no idea Stone could be so silly. “It’s no problem at all. We’ll do a great job surveilling this guy— we’ll make a great team.”
As soon as I said those last few words, I began to doubt them. I could sense that this job was big, and I worried that I might be getting into something shady.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The next day, I woke up just after midday, feeling energized and optimistic about life.
Breaking up with Jack had been the right thing to do. Our relationship had been stagnating, and now I was free to date someone better.
We hadn’t turned up too many leads in Max’s case, but today I’d get in touch with the Mandalay Bay security guy and check out Jacinta’s alibi. There were also a bunch of apartments that had been empty when we’d gone door knocking earlier. Since today was Sunday, we were likely to meet more people. Plus, I hadn’t received any more threatening messages, so I assumed that the original caller had grown bored.
Even Ian’s presence in this case seemed to be a good thing. Ian and I could split up today and talk to more people. He’d been with me often enough to be able to do this on his own.
I’d barely finished my lunch when Ian turned up wearing his boy-band-hair wig.
“We’re going back to Max’s apartment, right?” he said.
I nodded. “We really should’ve gone back yesterday, but we got stuck in that Google loop. We can’t waste another weekend.”
We headed off and found George manning the security desk. “How many times are you gonna come back here?” he asked, only half-joking.
“Do you usually work at weekends?” Ian asked. “Do they pay you more if it’s a Sunday?”
George shook his head. “We’ve got a roster. I’d like to get Sundays off, but I keep getting Tuesdays and Wednesdays off.”
“That’s how my job is,” I said. “It would be nice to get an entire weekend off.”
“But at least we’ve got jobs,” said George. “What else can you get in Vegas?”
I nodded and headed towards the elevator. I’d printed out a list of apartments for Ian and I, and I’d checked off the ones we’d had some luck with last time. “You take start from the top,” I told Ian, “And I’ll move up from the bottom. We can meet half-way. Give me a call if you find anything.”
“Are you going to talk to Jacinta? If you do, can you mention me?”
I rolled my eyes. “She’s not into you, and I’m not going to talk to her.”
I started from the second floor and moved up slowly. About half the people who hadn’t been home earlier were home today – but just about no-one knew of Max. When I showed his photo, they shook their heads, or shrugged and mentioned maybe seeing him the elevator sometime. One man on the fourth floor said he might’ve seen Max at a poker game, over on Fremont Street, but he could be mistaken because he’d been drunk that night.
Finally, on the fifth floor, I met a balding forty-something-year-old who looked like he’d just gotten out of bed. He wore stained pajamas and a white t-shirt and nodded when I showed him the photo.
“I’m single, so I go out some nights,” he said. “Once in a while, I’d see this guy getting into the lift with me. We’d nod. I assumed he was getting back from some strip club, too, so we never really talked.”
“Did he ever say anything to you at all?”
The man shook his head, no. “I never feel chatty that late
at night.”
“Did you ever see him talking to anyone else?”
“No.” The man shook his head. “People here keep to themselves.”
“What about – did you ever see a beautiful blonde woman here? Blue eyes, mole on one cheekbone?”
The man tilted his head thoughtfully. “You know. Now that you mention it. One time this blonde did get into the lift with us. And Max said, ‘Hi, Wynona.’”
I could feel my pulse racing. “What did she say?”
“She just shook her head and said, ‘Please don’t call me that.’ And then she turned to me and said that Max kept mistaking her for someone else.”
“What did Max say to that?”
“He apologized. Said he was sorry and couldn’t help it.”
“Anything else?”
“Nah, I got to my floor by then. I figured the guy was drunk and maybe she looked like his ex or something.”
I asked if he’d seen or heard anything else – but he hadn’t. I thanked him and continued down the hall.
Ian called after I’d spoken to two other people, both of whom had never met Max.
“Any luck?” he said.
“I’m not sure. How ‘bout you?”
“Couple people who might have seen him in the lifts or leaving the building. Someone said they talked once, coming home at night, and he said he’d won some big hands at poker and sounded drunk. Nothing else.”
I sighed and went back to canvassing.
Ian and I met on the seventh floor and knocked on a few doors together, with no success, before knocking on Katrina’s door again.
“You again,” she said when she saw us. Her blue eyes looked at us disapprovingly. “What is it this time?”
“Just a few more questions,” said Ian. “Can we come in?”
Katrina sighed dramatically. “Why not. Did you want some coffee while you’re here, maybe some cake?”
“I wouldn’t mind cake,” said Ian, as we sat down on one of the white leather couches.
Katrina sat down on a loveseat opposite us, crossed her legs, and glared at Ian. “I was being sarcastic.”
“Oh.” Ian sounded disappointed. “Do you even have any cake here?”
“I’m not running a bakery.”
I was startled by a loud noise coming from the next room, and then a man barged out the door. He was wearing an expensive-looking pinstriped suit and dragging a small carry-on suitcase. He had dark, short-cropped hair which was thinning around the center of his forehead. His eyes were dark, and his brow furrowed. “Kat—” he said – and then he stopped mid-sentence when he saw Ian and I.
The man glanced from me to Katrina, who shrugged. “This is Tiffany and Ian,” she told him. “They’re looking into the death of that guy who lived here.”
The man looked at us and nodded curtly. “Right,” he said, before looking at Katrina again. “Have you seen my extra phone charger?”
“Sorry, honey,” said Katrina.
The man looked like he would have burst into a tantrum, had we not been there. Since Ian and I were there, he satisfied himself with scowling at Katrina. “Well, I’m off,” he said. “My flight’s not going to wait for me.”
He headed towards the door, and I stood up. “Hang on!”
He turned around, and looked at me with forced politeness.
“We’re talking to everyone who lives here,” I said. “You live here, don’t you?”
The guy looked at Katrina and rolled his eyes. “I guess so. The lease is in my name and I seem to be the one paying all the bills.”
“Well, I’m Tiffany,” I said.
“And I’m late,” said the man. “Later.”
He turned and left before I could stop him.
“Don’t mind Jeff,” said Katrina, as the door clicked shut behind the man. “He’s always flying off. Macau, this time.”
“Oh.”
“Maybe we could call him in Macau,” said Ian.
Katrina looked at us doubtfully. “He’ll be in meetings all day.”
“I’m sure he’s free at night,” said Ian.
“I’ll only take a minute,” I said.
Katrina shrugged and pulled out her smartphone. “Why not. It’s not like he’ll agree to talk to you. Here’s his number.”
She reeled off a number of digits, which I wrote down and repeated back to her. And then my eyes fell on the Vegas Times lying on the coffee table, open to the gossip page. “This is you!” I picked up the paper and stared at the photo. Katrina was wearing a red cocktail dress, with a plunging neckline, and a pearl choker. Her hair was pulled back, and she looked like a supermodel – a supermodel with her arm around a man who wasn’t Jeff.
“Yeah,” said Katrina. “That’s from last night. Gala for the deaf, or something like that.”
I peered at the man she was leaning against in the photo. He was shorter than her, bald, and wrinkled.
“Who’s your new boyfriend?” said Ian.
Katrina rolled her eyes. “That’s Chad. He’s a friend.”
“He looks like he’s a hundred,” Ian said.
Katrina shrugged. “It doesn’t matter for men, how they look.”
“So you’re interested in him,” said Ian.
Katrina shot Ian a withering glance and turned to me. “What did you want to ask?”
“Hang on,” said Ian. “So you’re going to a gala with this old dude and you’re still living here? Jeff’s ok with this?”
“Jeff’s always in China, and he’s not about to know anything. I can’t wait till I move out of this place, it’s been nothing but bad luck. First, Jeff keeps travelling and flirting with random women instead of proposing to me, and then this guy dies.”
“Speaking of,” I said. “I spoke to a few people who said that you and Max talked a couple of times.”
Katrina stared at me blankly. “I can’t remember that.”
“Sure,” said Ian. “He called you Wynona Beyers?”
“Oh that.” Katrina sat back and uncrossed her legs. “I remember now. He kept calling me Wynona Beyers.”
“So you did chat with him a few times.”
“I wouldn’t call it ‘chat.’ He kept thinking I was this Wynona chick, whoever she is. Our conversation basically went, ‘Hey, Wynona,’ – ‘I’m not Wynona.’”
“Why did he think you were her?”
Katrina shrugged. “I heard he was dealing drugs. Maybe he was taking them, too.”
I bit my lip and looked at Ian. I could tell he was thinking about Jacinta, so I said, “Did you ever buy drugs off him?”
Katrina shook her head. “No, I told you, I get my stuff from that fatso downstairs. Jacinta.”
“She’s not a fatso,” said Ian.
Katrina rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Are we done? I got home late yesterday, and I want to take a nap.”
She was trying to kick us out, and I didn’t like it. “Back to Max,” I said. “Did you talk about anything else?”
“No.”
“And you’ve got no idea who Wynona is?”
“Nope.”
Ian and I looked at each other. This had turned out to be another dead end, after all.
***
We ran into Jacinta on the way out.
“How’s the investigation going?” she said. “Have you checked the Mandalay footage yet?”
I shook my head. “We’re getting round to it.”
“Well, it’s not my problem now.” We were standing in the lobby, and Jacinta was holding what looked like a bag of laundry in her arms. “I didn’t want you to know about the…” She lowered her voice. “Ways I make money. But now that you do, I don’t care. As long as you don’t tell the cops.”
“Of course we won’t tell them,” Ian said quickly. “You’re just doing what you have to.”
She smiled at him, a dazzling, charming smile. “I knew I could count on you.”
“You promised to end the drug racket,” I said. “I can’t keep this information a
secret forever.”
“Oh, I’ve gotten rid of all my stash,” she said lightly. “Sold it all to a group of bachelor party boys.”
I looked at her warily. “Right.”
“And now I can buy a small share in Jerry’s!”
“Congrats,” I said hesitantly. “What about your mom?”
Jacinta beamed. “My aunt said my mom can live with her now, rent-free. So I don’t have that many bills. And my share of Jerry’s profits should cover the rest.”
“Well, congrats on everything,” I said.
Jacinta smiled happily. “Yeah, I’m glad it worked out. And now that I’ve told you about the Mandalay stuff, I might as well admit something.”
I didn’t have a good feeling about this. “What?”
“I left you a kind of funny message on your phone. Not to look into Max’s death.”
An exasperated grunt escaped from my throat, and my hands flew up into the air. “By ‘funny’ do you mean threatening? Like, I’d end up like Max?” I could hear the pitch of my voice getting higher and higher, but I couldn’t help it. “That’s not ‘funny!’ I kept having to check my apartment for intruders each day! Why would you do that?”
Jacinta looked sheepish and shrugged. “I thought you might try to get me into trouble.”
“Well, I haven’t told the cops yet, have I?”
“No, you’ve actually been nice about it. Which is why I’m telling you. I didn’t expect you to be so nice.”
I could feel my eyes burning in anger. “I guess I was wrong to feel any sympathy for you.”
“I really am sorry about the message, I just did what I needed to. I couldn’t risk not being able to pay my mom’s bills.”
Ian was standing there looking shell-shocked, like he couldn’t decide if he was still infatuated with Jacinta or not. I looked at him pointedly. “Come on, Ian. We’re done here.”
The two of us stormed out miserably. The more I looked into Max’s death, the less I learned.
***
It was too late to head over to Mandalay Bay by the time I got home, so I grabbed my laptop and dealer’s uniform and headed over to the Treasury. I didn’t want to risk being late again, so I fired up my laptop in the break room and began browsing through search engines.
