by Nancy Warren
“Does your friend think Dwayne is innocent?”
“No. But he’s a cop. He tends to think the most obvious suspect did the deed. Usually, he’s right.”
“But not this time?”
“Maybe.” She felt frustrated and edgy.
“Are you taking this so hard because he’s Tiffany’s father or because you can’t accept that your judgment was so far off?”
She felt the sting of his words even though they were softly delivered. “Ouch. Maybe a little bit of both. Nobody wants to think they married a murderer.”
“You were sixteen. What did you know?”
She smiled ruefully. “My mother’s been talking. Hasn’t she?”
“She loves you. And she’s a very smart lady.”
Toni blinked at him.
“Linda was absolutely right, the rash is clearing up on my chest.”
She had to smile. She wasn’t sure that prescribing a hypoallergenic moisturizer qualified her mother for Mensa, but it was nice that she was helping out while she was here. Already, Sunny and the Three Chers were sporting clearer skin and much better stage makeup colors.
Which wasn’t going to get Dwayne out of trouble. She said, “Loretta was Grant Forstman’s third wife. Does she get whatever there is? Are the exes in for a chunk? I wonder if he had any kids?”
“Loretta has expensive tastes,” he said.
She nodded, recalling the diamonds and fur coat. Even her hair coloring had to cost a fortune to maintain. “Poor thing. I wonder what she’ll do when she finds out she’s broke?”
“More tea?”
“Hmm? No. I’d better not.” She traced the Mad Hatter ceramic figure with a fingertip. “I keep searching for other suspects, but Dwayne sure does look guilty. He didn’t even admit he was sleeping with Loretta. He thinks I don’t know.”
“But you don’t think he killed Grant Forstman?”
“No. No I don’t.”
“I hope not. For Tiffany’s sake. She’s a great kid.”
“She sure is.” She smiled. “She’s probably the best thing Dwayne ever did in his life, and he doesn’t even realize it.”
He made a funny noise. “He’s like a lot of men. Get a woman pregnant and they’re out of there.” He spoke with so much bitterness, she asked, “Is that what happened to you?” Then she said, “I’m sorry. I speak first and engage my brain later. It’s none of my business.”
He shook his head. “It’s okay. I never knew my father. He left my mother before I was even born. There’s no one I admire more than my mother. She was a Vegas showgirl, too. My act’s a kind of a tribute.”
“That’s wonderful. She must be so proud.”
“She died a couple of years ago, but she got a real kick out of Sunny and the Three Chers. Some of the costumes I wear are hers. That was pretty much the bulk of her estate.”
And here they were back at estates. “But you think Grant Forstman didn’t have the money he appeared to have?”
He smiled slightly. “This is Vegas, Toni. Everything is built on fakery and pretense. In my professional opinion, that man was close to bankrupt.”
“Poor Loretta.” She pulled out her smart phone. “You know what every woman needs when she’s feeling a little down?”
He looked at her with narrowed eyes. “A good friend with a bottle of scotch?”
She fluttered her lashes at him. “A new friend with unlimited makeup.”
She swiped on fresh lip gloss, pulled up her smile and positive attitude and called Loretta’s number. To her surprise, Grant Forstman’s widow answered right away. “Loretta Forstman.”
“Loretta, it’s Toni Diamond, we met the other day at . . . ” Usually she was smooth on the phone, but she had no way to finish that sentence without the words “murder” and “corpse” hanging in the air like skunk spray.
“The casino, I remember,” Loretta said, seeming a lot more smooth than Toni. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m hoping I can do something for you.” These were such familiar words that her patter unrolled ahead of her like a red carpet leading to Oscar night. “I would love to offer you a complimentary Lady Bianca makeover.”
“Oh. I’m really not—”
“Please don’t worry about wasting my time. I met you and liked you immediately. And after the horrible shock you’ve been through, you and your skin need some pampering.”
“But your husband is accused of murdering mine. Isn’t that kind of icky?”
“Please, Dwayne hasn’t been my husband for fifteen years. That’s half my lifetime.” If you weren’t very good at simple division.
“Well, I really did like Lady Bianca cosmetics when I used to wear them.”
“Trust me, you are going to love the new line. I’m bringing some extra samples of the skin creams for you. Honestly, three months of using the new line and you’ll feel like you’ve had a facelift. Without the stitches.”
“If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“I don’t at all. What time shall I come by?”
“You do it here?”
“Absolutely. We pay house calls like doctors and priests used to.”
She was treated to a low, throaty laugh. “You’ll probably do me more good than either of those.”
They made a date for the next day. Toni would have chatted a little longer but she had another call coming in.
“Toni Diamond,” she trilled.
“Mom, you’ve got to get over here,” Tiffany yelled.
“Where are you?”
“At the Wentworth Casino.”
“The Wentworth? What are you doing there?” The Wentworth was one of the top casinos on the strip, near the Bellagio.
“Grandma wanted to come. She thought it would make us feel better.”
“I thought you were going shopping.”
“We did. There’s a huge mall here as well as the casino.”
“And why do I need to get over there, right away?”
“Because Grandma got arrested.”
Chapter Twelve
“You have to learn the rules of the game and then you have to play better than anyone else.”
— Albert Einstein
“What?” She shrieked so loud that Brent spilled hot tea on his hand. “Grandma got arrested?” She could not take much more of this.
“Well, not arrested exactly. Hauled away by the security guys.”
“Hauled away for what?”
“I don’t know.”
Toni was so stressed she grabbed at her hair, messing up the careful style she’d spent twenty minutes on this morning. “What’s she done? She didn’t get into a fight, did she?” Toni would never forget one memorable day when her usually happy mother all but ended up decking some woman who claimed that Dolly Parton could not sing a note.
“No. It wasn’t a fight. I don’t know. She was excited. She loves the casino. She was playing roulette, and I think she was winning. A waiter brought her champagne and me a Coke. Then all of a sudden these two guys in black came up and said she had to go with them. Nobody will tell me anything. I’m not old enough to be in the casino, but they let me go. They took Grandma away somewhere.”
“And where, precisely, are you at this moment?”
“I’m sitting in the ice cream parlor at the Wentworth.”
“Okay. Don’t move. I’m coming.” Then before she could say good-bye she said, “Wait, Tiff, what were you doing in the Wentworth?” There were a dozen casinos and places to shop that were closer.
“Dad gave me a couple of blue casino chips for the Wentworth before, you know, all the crap happened. He said to go and have some fun with them at the casino, but I don’t like gambling. And I’m not supposed to be in the casino anyway, so I gave them to Grandma.”
Toni closed her eyes. “I’ll be there as quick as I can.”
“Mom?”
“Yes, honey.”
“What should I do?”
Toni knew what she’d like to do.
“Order a hot fudge sundae. And tell them to make it a double.”
When she got off the phone, Brent was looking at her with concern. She grabbed her bag. “Suddenly everyone in my family is a criminal.”
She recalled from her quick search of Dwayne’s room after he’d been arrested that she’d spotted a bowl of chips. She hadn’t thought anything of them at the time, now she stopped to pick them up and count them. They were blue. Nothing about them suggested what each chip was worth, but there was a W embossed on each one. She borrowed a paper lunch sack from Brent and dropped the chips in it, then headed back out to her car to try and spring her mother from casino jail.
When she arrived at the casino on the strip, she discovered that the Wentworth was to the Double Nugget what Paris, France was to Paris, Texas.
She pulled up to valet parking and a man dressed like something out of a Jane Austen movie rushed up and opened her door, holding out his hand as though he were Colin Firth himself. She took his hand and let him help her out of her car. He handed her a slip of paper and said, “Call when you’re ready and we’ll get your car for you right away, miss.”
She slipped a twenty from her wallet and handed it to the young man, giving him a dazzling smile.
“Thank you.” She squinted at his nametag, “Vernon.” And she waltzed into the grand entrance of the hotel. Two more Georgian footmen rushed to open the opulent, heavy glass doors for her. Little did they know their security people had her mother in lockup.
Having had the drive over to try and formulate some sort of strategy, she was certain of one thing. She needed Tiffany to stay put. She texted her daughter with a little white lie. Traffic terrible. I’ll be there as soon as I can.
And then, trying not to look like a woman here to bail her own mother out of casino jail, she asked the first person in uniform where the casino security office could be found.
“Casino security?”
“Yes.”
“Go on through to the casino and ask one of the security people. They’ll escort you up.”
Toni headed for the casino. She had never in all her life seen so much crystal. Not that she’d ever had occasion to go to Paris, never mind Versailles, but she had a sense that Marie Antoinette and her court would be right at home here. The chandeliers alone were the size of small planets, sparkling and glittering above the heads of a pretty upscale looking crowd.
When she headed through all the glitz and glam, she paused at a roulette wheel. About eight people were playing and a few spectators watched idly. The chips looked exactly like the ones she’d found in Dwayne’s possession right down to the W on each chip. Players had little piles of different colored chips in front of them. She spotted a couple of blue ones.
One man seemed to watch with more interest than the others, as though he might be thinking of joining the game. She sidled up to him. “Excuse me,” she said. “Where do I buy chips?”
He pointed to the side of the casino where a counter ran along the wall. It looked like a bank with a series of tellers inside secure booths. “Thank you,” she said. “Do you know what denomination the blue chips are?”
“Blue’s five hundred bucks. But you can play at this table for five bucks. Better to start there,” he said kindly. “Those chips are the white ones.”
“I will. Thanks again.” She walked away wondering what Dwayne was doing with ten grand worth of Wentworth casino chips. And why playing them had landed her mother in hot water.
Maybe she’d seen too many gangster movies, but before she got into the elevator that would take her to security and, she suspected, far from the glittery chandeliers and prettily dressed gamblers, she pulled out her cell phone and called Luke.
“Hey, pretty lady, what’s up?”
In spite of her stress and worry, she felt a smile tilt her lips. “You miss me.”
“I do not. I can watch football without someone asking me every five minutes who has the ball.”
“Oh, so unfair. I don’t care who has the ball. I always want to know when it will be over.”
“Too true.” He sighed. “I’m guessing you didn’t call me to talk about football.”
“No. Things are so bad here I actually wish I was sitting in front of a big screen with you watching a game I don’t like and don’t understand.”
“That bad, huh?” And for Luke, that was like sending the mushiest sympathy greeting card ever written and imprinted with purple flowers.
“My mom’s been nabbed at the casino for gambling with stolen chips.”
“Your mom?”
“Yeah. I suspect she got the chips from Dwayne.” She wanted to be tough and sassy but right now she felt a little bit wobbly. Like her stilettos were too high and she was about to fall flat on her face.
“Which casino?”
“The Wentworth.”
“The Wentworth?” He sounded stunned. “They’ll have state-of-the-art surveillance and top-of-the-line anti-theft programs. What kind of moron steals from the Wentworth?”
She sighed. “I believe I mentioned my ex-husband Dwayne Diamond may have been involved.”
“What do you need?”
“You see? That’s what I like about you. You’re not warm and fuzzy, but you give practical help.”
“Warm and fuzzy is for teddy bears. You need brass balls to get out of this jam.”
“I don’t have—”
“Sure you do. Well, brass ovaries anyway.”
“You really think I do?”
“Honey, you could sell cosmetics to the Amish.”
She knew he was making a joke, but personally, she’d always thought the Amish would be happier with cosmetics. The women would look so much prettier, and the men could take advantage of the men’s skin care line. But now wasn’t the time to get into that. “Okay, here’s what I need. If you don’t hear back from me in an hour, you know I’m being held at the Wentworth.”
“Copy.”
“It’s not funny, Luke. Seriously, I’m worried.”
“I doubt they’ll take this to the cops. Your mom’s not exactly a big threat. Play nice, tell them you’ll never do it again and get the hell out of there.”
“Okay. And if you don’t hear from me in an hour?”
“I’ll get hold of my buddy in Vegas. He’ll get you out.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah. And if he doesn’t I’ll be on the next plane to take care of it myself.”
“You don’t have jurisdiction.”
“I have a vested interest in a certain pushy Lady Bianca saleswoman.”
“How vested?”
He chuckled, low in his throat. “When you get back to Texas, I’ll show you.”
She smiled. Even though her world felt as though it was falling to pieces, Luke still made her smile. “Deal.”
The smile made it past the blackjack tables and a couple of craps tables, to a dark-suited man with a badge on. “Excuse me. I’d like to go to security, please.”
He stared at her as though this was the White House and she’d asked to see the President.
“What’s your business with security?” He was polite, but unsmiling.
How to phrase this? “My mother’s up there. I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”
He pulled out a cell phone. “Name?”
“Toni Diamond. My mother is Linda Plotnik.”
He spoke in a low voice to someone and then said, “Come with me.” He led her to an elevator at the back of the room and they stepped into it. It shot up and then the door opened. As she stepped out, she got a sense that in entering the security zone she was entering another world.
Confidence, she reminded herself as scary guy deposited her at a reception desk where a young woman who could probably break every bone in her body with an eyelash said, “Can I help you?”
If you truly believe you’ll get what you want you’re more likely to succeed, she reminded herself. She looked the woman in the eye, exuding confidence. “Yes. I’m looki
ng for Linda Plotnik.”
It was eerily like her visit with Dwayne earlier in the day. Once more she was shown to an airless, awful room that smelled like fear and smashed dreams. There was a desk, a phone, a couple of cheap office chairs. Not so much as a photograph on the walls or a potted plant brightened the atmosphere.
Her mother wasn’t there, but a tough looking bald guy came in right behind her. He looked like all his body’s resources went into building so much muscle that there was no energy left for anything as frivolous as hair.
“Your mom’s in a heap of trouble,” he said, looming over her and looking sinister.
It was funny. She’d been so nervous on her way here but now that she stood in front of a guy who looked like he should be in a cage, her nerves were steady. She said, “So will you be if you don’t release her immediately.”
“Linda Plotnik was gambling with stolen chips.”
She held her expression steady with an effort, but inside she was cursing Dwayne all over again. Stolen casino chips? What had he got himself involved in? “My mother had no idea. Those chips were given to her.”
His eyes were cold and nasty. “Who gave her the chips?”
“I don’t know.” Little white lie number two in less than twenty minutes. “But my mother is no thief.”
“They all say that.”
“I doubt it.”
“Think you’re pretty tough.”
“No. I think that legally you can’t do anything. You haven’t called the police, so I suspect you have nothing but a suspicious chip that somehow came into my mother’s possession.”
He leaned back, regarded her with something closer to respect. “Okay, you won’t be bullied. I like that.”
“Thank you.”
“Here’s the thing, Ms. Diamond. When people steal our chips, we don’t like it. It’s bad for our business, bad for our honest clients and bad for the reputation of Las Vegas.”
“I can appreciate that.”
“If we can get the name or names of the people who gave your mother the stolen chips, we could probably let her go, with a ban on ever playing here at the Wentworth again, of course.”
