by Nancy Warren
“How many chips were stolen?”
“Ms. Diamond, please.” He folded his arms over his massive chest.
“If I was able to return, let’s say, ten grand worth of chips, do you think you could forget my mother was ever here?”
He stared at her out of eyes so cold a blue they ought to freeze over. Then gestured to her handbag. “Why don’t you hand me over that nice bag, Ms. Diamond?”
“Have you never heard that a woman’s handbag is one of her most private possessions?”
His smile was lizard-like. “Not when you’re in my office.”
“Well, I’m not giving it to you. You have absolutely no right to—”
“I’ve always preferred taking what I want.” And he reached out and grabbed her bag.
She gave a cry of outrage as he snatched her beloved bright pink Kate Spade. To wrestle the man would not only be undignified but since he weighed about two hundred pounds more than she did and looked like he took part in extreme fighting when he was bored, she gave in.
He upturned her bag and out spilled her wallet, her cell phone, her diamond-encrusted eyeglass case, her notebook and pen, her makeup bag (the small one, for touch-ups) and a blue bag with no discernible purpose. He sent her a smug glance of triumph. “Now where would a nice lady like you hide stolen casino chips?” he asked as he reached for the blue bag.
She compressed her lips and then instantly relaxed them. She wasn’t going to inflict premature wrinkles around her mouth for him. He unzipped the bag and turned it upside down. A cascade of Lady Bianca sample packs spilled onto the desk. “What the hell?”
“Sample packs of this season’s Lady Bianca cosmetic line,” she told him sweetly. “Please, help yourself.”
With a scowl he went after her makeup bag. Out tumbled her mascara, a small eye shadow compact, lipstick, lip gloss and lip liner, a small tube of blemish concealer and a slightly larger one of foundation. Face powder, blush, and a small spray bottle of Evian. He sprayed and sniffed at the resulting puff of moisture droplets.
“Evian. It’s excellent for fighting dehydration of the complexion. You should get some. The casino air is very drying.”
He put down the spray bottle with unnecessary force and shook out the rest of her bag. A couple of loose quarters fell out, a pack of tissues and a roll of mints. A discreet pouch that contained two tampons. He opened the pouch. Scowled. Shut it.
He glared at her. “Where are the chips?”
She glared right back. “Where is my mother?”
Chapter Thirteen
“Good people do not need laws to tell them to act responsibly, while bad people will find a way around the laws.”
— Plato.
The standoff continued for thirty unnerving seconds. Finally, he made a growl like a cornered grizzly — or Tiffany when she didn’t get her way, and stomped out of the small office. She rose and gathered her belongings back into her bag then sat back down and waited, hoping she looked much calmer than she felt.
In a very short period of time, the door opened again and the thug pushed Linda into the room. “Oh, Toni,” her mother cried. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea those chips were stolen.”
She hugged her mother, who was so distraught one of hair extensions had come loose and she hadn’t noticed. It hung from her head like an animal tail. “It’s okay, Mom. Did they treat you okay?”
Her mother’s eyes went squinty. “If you call getting grabbed off the casino floor like a criminal and yelled at and threatened good treatment, then they treated me like a queen.”
She squeezed her mother’s shoulder. “Ready to go?”
“An hour ago.”
“Okay.” She turned to the security guy who stood blocking the door out of there. “I will return the chips if you tell me exactly what you know of the theft. And, naturally, there will be no further unpleasantness toward my mother.”
He glared some more. She glared back some more.
“Wait here.”
Like they had a choice. He disappeared and in a couple of minutes more, a different man entered. A man different in every way. He wore a decent suit, flashed a smile so dazzling you could use the reflection to apply eyeliner, and smelled like expensive cologne.
“Ladies,” he said, as he walked in on shiny loafers. “I understand you have information that could help us restore some stolen property.” He walked forward, shook hands first with Toni, then Linda. “I’m Nathan Chisolm, head of security here at the Wentworth.” He glanced around the grim room as though he’d never seen it before. “Please, come into my office.”
He led the way and as they followed, Linda whispered, “Good cop, bad cop?”
Toni glanced back and nodded. But bad cop had also boosted them up the chain of command. Besides, she liked Nathan Chisolm’s manners much better. His office was down the hall and around a corner. It was large and well furnished, seeming to belong to the Wentworth. He gestured to a round glass table with half a dozen comfy chairs gathered round it. “Please, have a seat.”
Toni and her mother sat side by side and he settled himself opposite them. His smile grew even larger as he regarded them. Like he was about to offer them a great deal on a used car. “All right. I understand there was an unfortunate misunderstanding on the floor, Ms. Plotnik. Why don’t you tell me all about it?”
Before her mother could say anything, Toni put a hand on her mother’s arm and said, “My mother was given those chips. She had no idea they were stolen. I believe I know where more of them are located, but first I want some information about the theft.”
The smile dimmed slightly. “And why would you want that?”
Toni could do the fake smile as well as anybody and she matched Nathan Chisolm in joviality. “I am assisting the police in another matter, but I believe there might be a connection.” She was throwing wildly but hoped very much that the mention of cops would have him more amenable to her deal. She hadn’t missed the fact that no one had mentioned turning her mother — or the stolen chips — over to the authorities.
He looked dubious. “May I say you look much too pretty to be a police officer.”
She decided to let the obvious insult to female cops everywhere go. “I’m not a police officer. As I said, I’m assisting the local police in a different matter.”
“And you feel there’s a connection?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “But I think it’s possible. What can you tell me about the theft?”
She felt Linda staring at her but fortunately her mother kept her mouth shut.
He narrowed his eyes as he gazed at her for a moment then, seeming to decide she wasn’t going to use the information against him or his employer, said, “You understand this is strictly confidential.”
“Of course.”
“And my colleague informs me that you are willing to return ten thousand dollars worth of stolen chips?”
“I am.”
He nodded shortly.
“We think it was an inside job.”
“Really?”
“Yes. There was no break-in, no burglar waving a gun and an empty sack. But a number of chips went missing.”
“When did this happen?”
He paused once more as though debating whether the information was worth ten grand in chips. Finally, he said, “Twelve weeks ago.”
“What amount?”
“I’m not at liberty—”
“Mr. Chisolm.”
“It was one hundred thousand dollars.”
“All in five-hundred-dollar chips?”
“Yes. But our chips are computer coded. The second one of them was played, we could follow the transaction and —” He glanced over at Linda. “Well, you’ve witnessed exactly what happens.”
She looked down through the glass table to their feet, thinking. “If it was an inside job, wouldn’t whoever stole them know that they were virtually worthless?”
“You’d think so. Maybe they are selling them at a di
scount to unsuspecting rub—um, to people who might not understand how tight our security is. We’d like them back so we don’t need to inconvenience people like your mother.”
She tapped her fingertips lightly against the glass. “Could the chips be tampered with somehow? Could they be modified so that they would pass as good?”
He shook his head. “It’s never been done.” He reached over to his desk and picked up a blue chip that she strongly suspected had recently been played by her mother.
“These chips are made of a very high-tech ceramic. They have a kind of hologram inside. They put them through an ultrasound scanner in the cage and it reads the chips. Catches counterfeits and stolen chips right away. Can’t be duplicated or removed. And now, if you have no more questions?”
“Only one. In the last twelve weeks, has anyone else tried to play with the chips?”
“No. Only your mother.”
“Thank you.” She reached for her bag and pulled out her cell phone, then she pulled the card the Wentworth parking valet had given her from her pocket and dialed the number. “Could I speak to Vernon please?”
“You are speaking to him.”
“Oh, good. Vernon, this is Toni Diamond, you parked my—”
“The rental Prius. I remember you.”
Amazing what twenty bucks and a big smile could do. “Excellent. I need you to do something for me. In the glove compartment of my car is a paper lunch sack. Could you bring it up to Mr. Chisolm’s office in security?”
He paused at the unusual request, but only for a moment. Then he said, “Yes, ma’am, right away.”
“Thank you, Vernon.” And she clicked off.
“You left ten thousand dollars in casino chips in your glove compartment?”
She smiled. “I’m sure you’ll agree they were safer there than in my handbag where anyone could snatch them.”
“Ms. Diamond, you are a remarkable woman.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chisolm.”
“Could I offer you ladies a beverage while we wait?”
She turned to Linda, who still looked stunned at the turn her day had taken. “Mother?”
“Perhaps a water.”
“Ms. Diamond?”
“Water would be good.”
He went to a small refrigerator and withdrew three small bottles of water and from a discreet shelf brought out three heavy glasses, suitable for scotch.
Before he could launch into polite small talk, she threw out a topic she was interested in. “It’s a terrible shock about Grant Forstman,” she said.
“Hmm?” He unscrewed the cap off his water. “Oh, yeah. Terrible.”
“I’m sure, if you were in charge of security at the Double Nugget, such a tragedy could never occur.”
“You wouldn’t catch me dead at a sleazy place like that,” he said. “And if a man has enemies who want him dead badly enough, they’ll find a way.”
“Did he have a lot of enemies?”
Nathan Chisolm drank water without bothering to pour it into a glass first. “The Double Nugget is one of the last privately owned casinos left in Vegas. Most of the hotels and casinos, like the Wentworth, are owned by movie studios or big hotel chains. Grant Forstman was from the old school. Rumor was he was doing business with people he maybe shouldn’t have.”
She poured her water into a glass. “You think it was a hit?”
He put down the bottle and it made a clicking sound on the glass table top. “I have no idea. Anyway, the police arrested a suspect.” He smiled that snake oil salesman smile again. “Now, I could tell you some stories about Vegas in the bad old days that would curl your hair. She listened as Nathan Chisolm reminisced about mob hits and colorful characters. Since he had clearly told her everything useful he was going to, she let him.
A soft knock fell on the door, interrupting a story about Frank Sinatra that might even have been true. “Come in.”
The parking attendant appeared holding the paper sack.
“Thank you, Vernon,” Toni said, rising. She took the sack and passed it to the head of security. “My mother and I will ride down with you, Vernon, if you don’t mind. We’ll get our car now.”
“Certainly, ma’am.”
Chisolm eyeballed the chips inside the bag then reached inside and rapidly counted them. He nodded briefly then rose as though he’d been giving the two women a VIP tour instead of holding her mother against her will.
“Very nice to meet you ladies,” he said, shaking each of their hands as they left.
“Phew,” Linda gasped as they hit the elevator. Toni squeezed her mother’s shoulder, warning her to keep her mouth shut.
“We just need to make a stop at the ice cream shop and pick up my daughter,” she said to Vernon. “We’ll meet you at the front entrance.”
“I’ll have your car all ready for you.”
Tiffany was sitting in front of an old-fashioned sundae glass, empty but for some smears of chocolate sauce and a haze of vanilla. She had her cell phone out but looked supremely bored.
“Tiffany, I’m so sorry, baby,” Linda cried, rushing up and giving her granddaughter a hug.
“Grandma. You’re okay.”
“Of course, I’m okay. Your mom bailed me out of casino jail.”
“Oh, good. I was getting worried. I almost called Luke.”
“You’re a smart girl, like your mom,” Linda said.
Mother and daughter glanced at each other. “Thanks,” they said in unison.
“That sundae looks so good,” Linda said.
“Do you want one?”
“Desperately. But not here.”
So the three of them left and Toni drove them to the outlet mall, where they should have gone in the first place. They shopped for a happy couple of hours, getting their feet back under them. Then she treated them all to dinner followed by hot fudge sundaes.
As they sat around the table, Linda said, “I don’t understand why Dwayne had stolen poker chips in his bedroom.”
“Me, neither.” And even more shocking, he’d told Tiffany to go out and use them. What kind of a father got their own daughter to attempt to gamble with stolen casino chips?
She didn’t say this aloud, of course, but from the look on her daughter’s face, her thoughts were traveling along a similar path.
“He didn’t know they were stolen,” Toni said suddenly.
“What are you talking about?” Linda snapped. “He had stolen chips in his bedroom. How could he not know?”
“I can’t answer that, but I don’t believe for one second that Dwayne would knowingly let Tiffany get caught passing stolen chips.”
“I don’t think so, either,” said Tiffany, sounding relieved and a lot happier.
Toni didn’t bother explaining that she didn’t believe it because Dwayne was such a great father, but because, as dumb as he was, even he must know that if his daughter got busted, Diamonds to Diamonds, the trail would lead right back to him.
Chapter Fourteen
“Adornment is never anything but a reflection of the self.”
— Coco Chanel
Loretta Forstman looked like a classic grieving widow if you counted only that she was wearing all black.
All black workout wear.
Toni had followed her instructions for getting to the private penthouse suite in the hotel portion of the Nugget. The country and western theme made it to the bank of elevators but, following instructions, she found the private elevator that led only to the owners’ suite and here the ambiance changed immediately. She stepped into the elevator and saw there were two buttons and a discreet phone. The upper one said 2. That’s what she’d been told to press. The lower button said 1. She pushed that one first. Nothing happened.
She pushed 2. Nothing happened.
She picked up the phone and pushed the 2. It rang like a phone and a breathless sounding Loretta answered. “Oh, right, Toni,” she said after Toni identified herself. “Come on up.”
“Thanks.”<
br />
Toni pushed the 1 on the phone. The phone rang six times and then cut out.
She pushed the elevator button for 1. Nothing.
She pushed the elevator button for 2. The doors closed so quietly that if she’d had her eyes closed she wouldn’t have noticed. Then the elevator rose as though angels lifted her on their wings.
She arrived at her destination and the doors opened onto a marble foyer. One door faced her. Forstman had the entire penthouse floor. She walked out and rang the doorbell.
The door opened to a glowing Loretta in all black workout wear. She wore a black halter top that plunged low over her showgirl breasts and figure-hugging, black stretch capris. Her hair was tied back from her pink-cheeked face and she was breathing heavily. “Hi, Toni. Come on in. I was finishing my workout.”
As Toni walked in she was aware of two things at once. The owner’s apartment was stunning. Everything screamed expensive, top-of-the-line, from the white leather furniture to the crystal lamps, the plush rugs and the art on the walls. Toni was no art expert but she walked forward to a piece that took up the better part of one wall and showed a swimming pool. It was all blues and greens and choppy waves churned up by a swimmer. Something about the style was familiar. “What a lovely piece,” she said.
“Thanks. It’s a Hockney. David’s very collectible.” Loretta dropped the name the way you’d say, ‘Oh, thanks. When George Clooney came for dinner, he loved my way with Brussels sprouts.’”
No wonder it had seemed familiar. Tiff had done an essay about Hockney’s work and become an enthusiastic fan. Toni suspected you had to be very rich to hang one of the originals on your living room wall.
The second thing Toni was aware of was that she wasn’t the only visitor. Sounds of another human being emanated from a closed door off the main room. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” she asked, glancing toward the door.
“No. That’s Eric, my personal trainer. Eric?” she called. “Come meet Toni.”
Eric walked out, all six and a half feet of gorgeous. She blinked. He looked like a Viking god. When he stepped forward to shake her hand she could see that the blond in his hair had some help from the cosmetics gods, but the raw material they had to work with was beyond compare.
