Fast and Loose

by Fern Michaels

  Jack let loose with a wild sigh, as did the others. “What are you saying? We didn’t do anything. We couldn’t. Abner couldn’t. All he and PIP were trying to do was figure out how anyone could hack into Babylon’s account, and they came up dry. Take it easy, Bert, or I’m hanging up on you, and if I do, my next phone call will be to Annie. Are you sure you weren’t . . . um . . . under the weather or drunk when you did what you did? Seems to me that’s what happened, and now that you’re operating at a hundred percent, you can see what you did wrong. Is any money missing? is all we want to know. So is it or isn’t it missing?”

  Everyone’s eyes popped when Bert let loose with another volley of profanity. “Damn it, Jack! Weren’t you listening to me? Now there is too much money.”

  “Sounds to me like maybe someone is paying back some interest, if what you say is true. If those fancy forensic accountants can figure it out, then maybe Bert was right. Someone did take the money, then decided to put it back, plus interest. Makes sense to me, and I’m not a genius. The timing, in my opinion, is priceless,” Harry said as he grinned from ear to ear.

  “Thank you, Harry Wong!” Bert said tightly.

  “That’s the first thing any of you have said that makes a lick of sense. This is turning into a nightmare.”

  “Sorry, gentlemen, but I have to leave now to speak with the accountants, who should by now be situated in conference room three with Mr. Dixson Kelly. With your permission, Bert, I’d like to bring him into the loop. Right now, Mr. Kelly is acting like a scalded cat on a slab of ice. It’s not fair to the man to keep him in the dark any longer,” Charles said.

  “Yes, yes, you’re right. Go ahead and tell him, and have him call me. We need to talk, anyway, about some other things.”

  Bert spoke up. “So, Jack, what do you have to say now?”

  “Nothing, Bert. How much money are you over that you can’t account for?”

  “You don’t want to know, Jack.”

  “Now you see, Bert, that’s where you’re wrong. I do want to know. Look, buddy, we all dropped everything we were doing in our lives and came here to help you. Now how much? Don’t make me ask you again.”

  “Millions. I don’t know exactly how many millions at the moment. This makes me look like a first-class stooge. Hell, let those guys you brought in figure it out. I hate this place,” he said before he hung up.

  Jack shrugged and looked at Harry. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Harry?” Not bothering to wait for a response, Jack rushed on. “That guy RCHood took the money. I think that’s a given at this point. Somehow or other, Abner found him. I want to stress that Abner found him after our blowup and probably by a fluke of some kind. Then, somehow, he convinced the guy to put the money back, plus interest. Abner is honorable that way. That how you see it, Harry? Please tell me you see it that way, too.”

  Always a man of few words, Harry simply said, “Yep!”

  Chapter 17

  Maggie stared off into space as she let her mind race. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had missed something along the way. A phrase, perhaps something she’d seen or heard that didn’t seem important at the time. Or just a plain old gut feeling that something was off. It was rare when she couldn’t find an explanation for something that bothered her. The guys always said she was like a dog with a bone, and she had to agree with them. She never gave up until she was 100 percent satisfied with whatever was nagging at her subconscious.

  Maggie eyed the plate of peanut butter cookies sitting on the coffee table. She reached for one. She always thought better when she was eating. Three cookies later, she realized it wasn’t working this time around. She switched her focus to the other side of the room to listen to what the boys were discussing. She frowned, then jumped up off her chair and ran to the other side of the room.

  “Hey! Listen!” she said. “I heard what you all just said, that now there seems to be too much money in the account and it is possibly an interest payment for . . . uh, the loan that hacker took out, right?”

  Everyone nodded.

  Maggie went on. “I know this is going to sound really, really crazy, but hear me out. Let’s just pick a number arbitrarily and go with three million dollars. That’s three million dollars no one knows about, okay? We’re the only ones who even think we know where it came from. Let me stress the only ones. You guys following me here?”

  The others nodded.

  “Okay, moving right along here. All of a sudden, there’s a heist in the making. Let’s say three million dollars. Wouldn’t that be the take on a Monday, after a weekend of gambling, give or take a few dollars? Perhaps more. And perhaps it would match the interest no one can account for. A wash, no? And no one is the wiser. The books balance.” Maggie stared at everyone, then laughed out loud at the expressions on their faces. “Okay, who’s stupid now?”

  “But . . .”

  “I don’t . . .”

  “No!”

  “Too much of a stretch!”

  “That has to mean . . . Dixson Kelly is actually the one planning the heist, and they’re all playing games,” Charles said, running with Maggie’s out-of-the-blue theory. “It’s a setup. I think it was pure dumb luck that you fell in their lap at the café that day. They had to scramble to figure out what to do with you and at the same time try to figure out what you were up to.”

  “How could Kelly know about RCHood?” Sparrow asked. “Kelly is no moneyman. Unless he’s somehow wired into Bert’s e-mails and phones. Even then it doesn’t work, because Bert found out about RC by accident. More or less.”

  “What?” Maggie screeched. “You want me to do all the work, and you coast on my coattails? I don’t think so! Figure it out. I gave you a possible scenario. Now, either make it work or scrap it. Since you all haven’t come up with anything better, my suggestion is to run with mine.”

  “Bert swears by Dixson Kelly,” Fergus said.

  “Everyone makes a mistake at some point in their lives. Misjudging a friend’s or colleague’s character is not uncommon. I think we might have all done that at one time or another. Mr. Kelly might be the consummate actor. If what Maggie is saying is true, then we all made the same mistake Bert made in regard to Mr. Kelly,” Charles said.

  “We just gave Kelly a leg up by allowing him to sit in with the forensic accountants. Thank God we didn’t put him in the loop as yet. Anyone know where he is right now?” Jack asked.

  “How could we possibly know that, Jack?” Sparrow asked coldly. “I also want to go on the record right now that I think this scenario is a real stretch. But I’ll go with the majority here.”

  “Good! Good! I think we should all hit the casino floor and do a little recon work. Whoever sees him first, try to entice him up here to the suite. Once we have him under lock and key, we can decide what we’re going to do going forward. We all in agreement here?” Jack asked.

  The response to Jack’s question was a stampede for the doorway. Maggie held up her hand to show she was coming, but first she had to read the incoming text that had shown up on her cell phone. Jack lagged behind to see what it was that was upsetting her.

  Hands on hips, he lasered Maggie with his dark eyes. “And that text means what? I can see you’re upset. The question is, why?”

  “An hour ago, I was asking myself the same question. I was upset then, and I am still upset. I was trying to figure out what I missed. I missed something, Jack. I know I did. I was upset with myself that I let it happen. Usually, I am on top of things. When I can’t find a solution or a resolution, it drives me nuts, so I stay with it till I figure it out.” Maggie pointed to the text. “This is what got by me. Now, in my own defense, I have to say I had an inkling something was off in regard to Kitty Passion, but she was so awesomely beautiful and nice to me, I brushed it off. And I was obsessed with trying to pull off my story line, so I was not really clicking on all cylinders. Well, shame on me, Maggie Spritzer.”

  “You want to share?” Jack asked impatiently.r />
  “Well, sure. I’m a team player. Always was, always will be. I think those women were onto us the minute they spotted us at the Cat & Cradle. And, stupid me, I fell for it. Hana was the one in the restroom. Hana is the one I boo-hooed to. Now that I think about it, it was almost as if we were all following a script. The women led me to believe that Kitty was supposed to be Dixson Kelly’s next conquest. They said he was pursuing her like mad, but she was holding him off. When they were ready to strike, she was going to seduce him. She was their magic bullet.

  “You know what bothered me? I’ll tell you. I think Kitty’s gay. I’ll stake my life and my reputation on that. And there’s nothing wrong with being gay. As you well know, some of my best friends are gay. I saw and read her expression every time Kelly’s name came up. She wasn’t the least bit interested romantically in Dixson Kelly, or any other guy, for that matter. The other girls recited chapter and verse about all their past love affairs, the good ones, the bad ones. Some even talked about old high-school crushes. Not Kitty. She did not volunteer a single thing about her times with Kelly or anybody else. Actually, she looked really uncomfortable, like if she said something, it was going to be all wrong.

  “Now that I think back, I can see how forced it all was. For my benefit. How she allowed herself to get involved with that group is something I have yet to figure out. Oh, there is no doubt that she’s tied to Kelly somehow. I’m going to go way out on a limb here, but I think she’s his sister. Maybe in the end, we’ll find out she’s the brains behind this whole sorry mess.”

  Jack’s jaw dropped. He struggled to get his tongue to work. “Based on what?” was the best he could manage.

  “The eyes. Don’t forget, I had to noodle around with Kelly for a whole day and a half. I stared across the table at him for hours. I’d know those eyes in my sleep now. Kitty has the same eyes, right down to the chocolate-brown color. As women, we call eyes like hers bedroom eyes. Bedroom eyes drive guys nuts. That’s what all the slick magazines say, anyway. With guys, the color is like a come-hither look. And five bucks says if you run a check on her, you won’t find anything on a Kitty Passion. Kitty Passion is a Vegas showgirl name. She probably has some nice Irish name, like Louise, Doris, or Ruth.

  “I’ll take that all one step further and make yet another wager. No old aunt left her that chicken ranch. I bet it isn’t even hers. Either she is renting it or she somehow managed to take it over for a period of time. The reason I say that is there was nothing personal in the house, and I did a walk-through. Not even green plants. Every woman has at least one green plant that she nourishes until the leaves turn yellow, at which point she tosses it out and gets another one. I know this, so please do not argue with me.”

  “Who’s arguing? I’m listening, and you are actually making sense. So what does that text say?”

  “Remember what you just said, Jack. The text is from Kitty, and she says she is having dinner with Dixson Kelly tonight at eight at someplace called Chezmarie. She wants me to show up with my brother around dessert time, nine, nine thirtyish. Either she thinks I’m really stupid or this is where she traps me. And you, too, since you are supposed to be my brother. I’m sure they got a good look at you and Harry at the Cat & Cradle. Which has to also mean that Kelly is onto us, too. Boo-hoo again. Too bad, too sad. We need to call a meeting and run this up the flagpole. Get on that, Jack.

  “I’m going to run a Google check on one Kitty Passion. Don’t get excited, because I already know nothing will come up. We need Snowden and Charles to work on this. And it would be really helpful if we could get Kelly’s employment application, along with his military record. And we have no Abner Tookus to do our hacking into databases for us. I have the directions in my pack, so we also need to get a records check on whose name that chicken ranch is in. Bet it’s someone who gambles here at Babylon. A high roller for sure. That ranch makes money.”

  Jack was typing so fast, he felt like blisters were forming on the pads of his fingers.

  “This is where we could really use Abner’s expertise,” Maggie said sourly. “Better yet, call Bert and tell him to have Human Resources bring it up here on the QT.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the group was assembled in a campfire atmosphere. Maggie read off the Kitty Passion text. Jack brought them all up to date on Maggie’s theory. If they were looking for shock and awe, they got it.

  Charles gave voice to what they were all thinking. “The man is pretty good, then, to have fooled Bert all these years. Avery, see what you can come up with. Sparrow, use your clout with the Vegas Bureau and see what you can dig up. I can see it all, but there is one gaping hole here. Help me out. Does Kelly know or not know what RCHood did? Or is this all one big coincidence?”

  No one had an answer.

  The room turned silent, the only sound the tapping of laptop computer keys. Then, collectively, they started to mutter and mumble under their breath. Paper literally flew out of the copy machine set up in the little workstation that came with every suite. The only distraction came around mid-afternoon, when there was a soft knock on the door. Everybody in the room tensed.

  “Bet it’s the Human Resources person,” Dennis said as he ran to the door and looked out the magic eye. He saw a tall woman dressed in a conservative suit and holding a large manila envelope. He opened the door, snatched the envelope, then slammed the door shut, secured the deadbolt, and slipped the chain lock into place. Too late he remembered he hadn’t offered up a tip. As Maggie would say, boo-hoo. The woman’s livelihood didn’t depend on his five-dollar tip. He ran the envelope over to Charles and handed it over with a flourish.

  No one in the room moved or said a word as Charles undid the clasp on the envelope and pulled out a sheaf of papers, which he quickly scanned. The others waited, hardly daring to breathe, for their leader’s verdict in regard to Dixson Kelly. Their relief was evident when Charles cleared his throat and started to talk.

  “Mr. Kelly’s stint in the military, then the CIA is just as Bert told us. Exemplary. No red flags. His employment record here at Babylon when Bert recruited him is just as exemplary. He has a sterling credit rating. Has a condo mortgage and has never been late with his payments. Makes car payments and is never late. Drives a Porsche. Silver in color. This information, by the way, is all due to periodic credit checks. Every employee has to sign off that HR can do this. Mr. Kelly signed off. He has a Visa card that he pays off in full every month. He also has a black American Express card. It’s called a Centurion Card. He also pays that off every month.

  “He has a robust pension plan, as well as a very nice brokerage account. He never lets his checking account drop below three thousand dollars. He gets a very generous bonus every year, in December, and he instructed HR to send the check directly to a place called Lakeshore Assisted Living in Asbury Park, New Jersey, to pay for his stepfather’s living expenses. There is only one negative comment, and that was written by Bert himself. Says he’s a womanizer, and he had him on the carpet on three separate occasions, when three different women kicked up a fuss. Kelly said he would try to do better. The last negative write-up was three months ago.”

  “I was hoping for something a little more . . . dicey.” Maggie sniffed. “What about his background, like where he grew up, parents, and so on?”

  Charles traced the lines with his forefinger as he read from the report. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Born and raised in Belmar, New Jersey. Mother a teacher. Father a teacher, also, who sadly died early in life. Mother remarried. Has a half sister and a half brother. The brother is a career officer in the marines and at the time of this report was stationed in California. The half sister is much younger. She moved to New York when she was eighteen and worked for an advertising agency. That’s pretty much the sum total of what’s in here. This has not been updated in the past five years, aside from Bert’s negative comments about Mr. Kelly’s womanizing and the results of the periodic credit reports. All in all, a report to be proud of.”

 
Maggie’s fist shot in the air. “I was right! He does have a sister! I knew it! I knew it! Always listen to your gut, people. It will never steer you wrong. Mr. Snowden, you need to do a check on the half sister and brother. Get everything you can on both of them. Okay, everyone, back to work,” Maggie said as she started typing. She looked down at the watch on her wrist. Four forty-five p.m.

  At 5:45 p.m., exactly one hour later, Jack Emery whistled sharply to get everyone’s attention. “Progress report, people.”

  Ted opted to go first. “You were right. The chicken ranch is owned by Earl and Helen Bolton. It’s a multimillion-dollar business. The Boltons have chicken ranches in Reno and Tahoe. The Boltons are in their seventies and spend half the year in Monte Carlo. And they go on to Macau, then back here for the Christmas holidays, after which they go off again. Vegas is their home base. A foreman oversees the farm here. Ditto for Reno and Tahoe. Sometimes, the Boltons rent out the main house or just let friends who want to winter in Vegas stay there. Before Kitty Passion, someone named Diane Sarrocco was staying there. No other information is available. Nothing comes up under that name, so I assume it’s an alias of some kind, just the way Kitty Passion is an alias.”

  “The sister’s name is Clare Andreas,” Snowden said. “The brother’s name is Steven Andreas. He’s a full-bird colonel in the marines. A career officer. Happily married, with two kids in college. Wife is a nurse. Same mother, different fathers. The man in the Lakeshore Assisted Living facility is William Andreas, Dixson Kelly’s stepfather. The mother died ten years ago.

  “The baby sister is hard to track. She never stays in one place too long. She’s a free spirit. She was a dancer at Trump in Atlantic City, but only for eight months, before she moved on. The last known footprint was Atlanta, where she did a modeling stint at some big designer’s show. Nothing shows up after that.”