“Yes, I am,” the ghost answered. He turned to Emma. “Can he hear me?”
“No, and he can’t see you either, but we manage.”
Emma tapped Quinn on the arm. “Drive somewhere, Quinn, before we start talking to him. I don’t want to raise any suspicion by sitting in this parking lot.”
While Quinn maneuvered the vehicle out of the parking lot of Desert Sun and down the street, Emma studied Bert Houser. “Your son is the spitting image of you.”
“He’s a regular chip off the old block.” The ghost grinned. “Takes real good care of his mother, too.”
“So you knew Nemo and Lenny?” Emma asked.
“Sure did. I worked behind the scenes at the Lucky Buck. Claudine tended bar. After work, I’d sit at the bar and unwind a bit before going home. With her odd hours, that was the best time for us to catch up. That’s where I got to know Nemo and Lenny.”
She relayed the conversation to Quinn.
“This is going to be awkward and time-consuming in the car,” noted Quinn. He made a right-hand turn onto a busy street. “Why don’t you question him and catch me up later? I’ll throw out questions as they come to mind.”
“Sounds good,” Emma agreed. She turned back to Bert. “Do you believe they robbed the casino?”
“I don’t believe it, I know it. They approached me to help them.”
“And did you?”
Bert looked away. “Yes, I did.” He turned back. “You have to understand, they were very persuasive, and I don’t mean just with money.”
“They threatened you?”
“They threatened my family. If I didn’t cooperative, Claudine and Eddie would have paid the price. I didn’t have to do much, just make it easy for them to slip into the back office early Sunday morning when we were counting up our biggest take of the week. Hell, of the year.” Bert paused and turned to watch the scenery slide by out the window. “It was a big holiday weekend. There were several conventions in town. And there was a glitch in making our deposit the night before, so our safe had a lot more money than usual.”
“The glitch,” Emma asked, “was that also arranged?”
“Yes. Between the two weekend nights and the extra action, they took just over a million dollars.”
“Lenny and Nemo did?”
“Nemo was behind it but he’d never get his hands dirty. Lenny and a couple other goons came into the back room where we were counting the money from Saturday’s haul and robbed us at gunpoint, taking that money and the money already in the safe from the day before.”
“Claudine said you were a suspect.”
Bert nodded. “Yes, all of us who worked in accounting were, but to steer the attention from me, one of Nemo’s guys plugged me during the heist.”
“You were shot? Is that how you died?”
“No, he shot me in the leg. You see, Claudine and Eddie did end up paying for the robbery, but it was me who dished out the punishment. After what happened at the Lucky Buck, I felt so guilty I started drinking heavily. And I never stopped until I ran my car off the road one night and straight into a wall.”
“Poor Claudine,” Emma said with sadness.
“Claudine stood by me through everything,” Bert told her. “She’s the best, and in the end I gave her the worst of myself. I’ve never forgiven myself.”
“And the money?”
Bert shrugged. “I never saw any of it. Not even the payment I was promised. Neither did Nemo. Lenny Speidel took off with it.”
“Is it safe to assume from what I’m hearing,” chimed in Quinn, “that Bert here had something to do with the casino robbery?”
“Yes, he did.”
Quinn stopped the SUV for a red light. “This town was run by the Mob back then. Wasn’t Nemo afraid of robbing them? Seems to me that’s a death sentence. I’m surprised he lived so long.”
“Your friend makes a very good point,” Bert said to Emma. “The Lucky Buck was one of the few remaining independent casinos not in bed with organized crime. It was family owned and a stubborn holdout right until the end. By robbing it, Nemo was actually doing his well-connected friends a favor, and they could say with a straight face they had nothing to do with it.”
“What happened to the casino?” Emma asked.
“In time it went under, helped along by the robbery and the competition from the bigger hotels and casinos, not to mention the continued pressure from the Mob. The Foster family sold it for next to nothing and left town. The new owners bulldozed it and put up something fancier. Shame, too, because it was one of the first real casinos in Las Vegas. It opened back when the Boulder Dam was being built and the workers from Boulder City needed someplace to blow off steam and spend their cash on payday.”
Emma sat up straight in her seat as the name pricked her like a pin. “Foster?”
“Yes,” answered Bert. “The Lucky Buck was started by Gerald Foster in the thirties, and his family owned and operated it until it closed in the mid-to late sixties. Both Claudine and I lost our jobs. She managed to get back on her feet. I never did.”
Emma relayed the answer to his question to Quinn.
“Foster?” parroted Quinn. “As in Detective Foster?
“It’s not an unusual name,” Emma pointed out, “but who knows? He did say his family was originally from Las Vegas, and he does have a strong interest in the history of the place. And here’s another surprise for you,” she said to Quinn. “Garby is the last name of the rest home director. Does that ring a bell?”
Quinn glanced over at her, his tongue pushing though the right side of his cheek as he mulled over the implications. “So,” he finally said, “we have one detective possibly related to the guy who runs the home where Nemo died, and the other detective possibly related to the folks who owned the casino Nemo robbed.”
Emma turned back to Bert. “Do you know what happened to the Fosters? Did they stay in the area after they closed the casino?”
“No, they didn’t,” Bert answered. “I heard they moved back East somewhere, but I’m not sure where. Gerald died of a heart attack before the robbery. I think that’s why Nemo thought it might be a good time to strike. At the time of the robbery the casino was run by his two sons, Edgar and Nicky, who weren’t nearly as savvy as their father. Edgar had a family, Nicky didn’t, but I think they all moved to the East together.”
Emma had a long-shot question on the tip of her tongue. “Was Nicky’s real name Nicholas?” As she asked the question, she saw Quinn glancing at her again.
“Yes, it was, but no one ever called him that.” When Bert answered, Emma nodded to Quinn.
“This is interesting and all,” Quinn said, “but how can we use it to find Dolly and get her back safe?”
“Bert,” Emma said to the ghost. “You said you saw Dolly Meskiel at Desert Sun last night.”
“That the woman in the picture you showed Claudine?”
“Yes. She went missing right after she visited Nemo, possibly about the time Nemo died. The police think she might have had something to do with his death.”
“I don’t know where the lady is,” Bert answered, scratching his head with his right hand, “but I do know when she left Nemo, he was still alive. I was sitting in the lobby with Claudine. She likes to sit on the sofa and watch everyone. And the lady you’re asking about walked right by us and out the door.”
“How did Nemo die? Did you see that?”
“I didn’t see it happen, but I know it was after the lady left. Not long after, but after. Claudine decided to go to bed early. I accompanied her to her room. We passed Nemo’s room just as he was being moved from his wheelchair into his bed. I know he was alive because he was talking to the people with him.”
Emma noticed Bert starting to fade, so she quickened her questioning. “Who was with him?”
“That Frankie, the fellow no one likes, and Mr. Garby, the man who runs the home.”
Emma immediately told Quinn, who shook his head in disbelief. “So who’
s lying—the rest home or the police?”
“Or both?” suggested Emma. She turned back to the ghost, who was barely more than a haze. “Before you go, Bert, one last question. By any chance did you see Nemo’s spirit leave his body?”
“No, I didn’t.” And he was gone.
Emma immediately called Milo and Tracy, and brought them up-to-date.
“Unbelievable,” said Milo. “We’d thought we struck out with the local mediums, but finally hit one that was contacted with an odd request that might be what we’re looking for.”
“Only one?” Emma was surprised. “Do you think the others told you the truth, or that Nemo’s people didn’t do much shopping around?”
Milo paused long enough to think about it. “Could be either. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I used my celebrity status to get them to talk to me at all.”
“I made him!” Tracy said over the speaker feature.
“The one that had been contacted,” Milo continued, “had actually been at my presentation yesterday. Tracy and I drove over there and met with her. Her name is Helena and I remembered her in the audience. She said a middle-aged man in a business suit visited her about two weeks ago asking questions about contacting the recently dead and communication between spirits, as well as between the dead and the living. He explained that he had two relatives who were dead that he felt had unresolved issues and he wanted them to iron them out so they could rest in peace.”
“That could fit Lenny and Nemo,” agreed Emma with a short laugh.
“The man asked if she would be available to work for him full-time until the matter was resolved. She said he offered her a nice sum of cash for her time.”
“That must have been tempting,” Quinn commented. “But she didn’t take the offer?”
“No,” Milo said. “Helena kept sensing something off about him, an aura of danger and death surrounding him. She said he called himself Mr. Charles, but she also sensed he was lying about his name. She told me she kept getting an intertwined N and M whenever she looked at him, like a fancy brand. When she asked if those initials had any meaning, he ended the conversation and left.”
“Could stand for Nemo Morehouse,” suggested Emma. “Maybe she was picking up that the spirit he was asking about was Nemo.”
“Anyway, that’s all we uncovered, except that Tracy and I did ask Helena if she knew Lady Laura and my mother. She said she’d heard of Laura and had met my mother a couple of times.”
“Did you tell her Dolly was missing?”
“Yes, and asked her to try and get a bead on where she might be. All she could tell us was that Dolly was alive but in grave danger.”
“Interesting thing, though,” Tracy added. “This Helena also said a spirit was watching over Dolly. The spirit of a woman in a long skirt.”
Emma smiled as she thought of Granny keeping guard over Dolly. “I’d say this Helena is a real and accurate medium.”
“Yes,” agreed Milo. “She seems very talented and apologized that she couldn’t help us more.”
“I want to know more about that Gene Garby,” said Tracy. “If he is related to Detective Garby, do you think he lied to him about how Nemo died or do you think the detectives knew all along that Dolly had nothing to do with it and were using that as leverage to get us to talk?”
“Good theory about the leverage,” Quinn said. He pulled the SUV into the drive-thru line of a fast-food restaurant. “I’m dying for an iced coffee,” he said to Emma. “Do you want anything?”
“That sounds great,” she said, glancing across Quinn at the posted menu. “Make mine a medium without whipped cream.”
“So what’s next?” asked Milo. “Do we go to Detective Garby and cry foul?”
“And tell him what?” asked Quinn after placing their coffee orders and pulling the vehicle forward in line. “That a ghost related to one of the residents told us that Nemo didn’t die by Dolly’s hand. Oh, and by the way, a possible relative of yours was present and are you in on this conspiracy?”
“It’s a start,” said Tracy. “And while we’re at it, maybe we should be questioning John Foster, too. Like maybe talk to them separately.”
“Not a bad idea,” said Quinn. He pulled up to the takeout window, paid for their drinks, and took them from a teenage girl in a uniform. After handing them off to Emma, he pulled the SUV forward into traffic.
Emma unwrapped straws and placed them in the tall, cold drinks. “Claudine said Nemo never had visitors, so how could he communicate with anyone about grabbing and holding Dolly, unless it was set up totally by phone.”
“I think,” said Tracy, “that Nemo is after the money Lenny took in the casino robbery. Didn’t you say it had never turned up?”
“Yes,” answered Emma, handing Quinn his drink. “Even Bert said both Lenny and the money went missing, but it sounded like Bert didn’t know Nemo killed Lenny.”
“If it is the money Nemo’s after,” said Milo, his voice faltering with worry, “then we’ll have to get Lenny to tell us where he hid it. We need to find it and trade it for my mother.”
“Any sign of Lenny there at the house?” asked Quinn.
“Nothing,” Milo told them. “But Nemo showed up.”
“He did?” Emma had just taken a drink of her iced coffee and nearly choked.
“Yes, about an hour ago, but it was just for a minute,” Milo reported. “He wanted to know if we were making any progress and said we were running out of time. He also asked where you were, Emma.”
“Aww,” said Quinn with a smirk. “He’s got a crush on you.”
“I’m just thankful,” said Emma with relief, “that he didn’t hone in on us at the rest home.”
“Did Nemo give you any indication of a deadline?” asked Quinn.
“No,” answered Milo. “He just said we were running out of time.”
“Keep trying to locate Lenny, Milo,” Emma encouraged. “Appeal to his affection for Dolly. Let him know you know you’re his son and you need his help to find her.” She paused. “How about Granny, any sign of her?”
“Nothing lately.”
“Milo,” Emma said into the phone, “let’s you and I concentrate on trying to contact both Granny and Lenny. I want to see how Granny’s doing with things. I know she’ll check in if she finds something, but I also want to ask her about Gene Garby. She might have noticed him last night.”
“What about the detectives?” asked Quinn. “I think one of us should contact them. Maybe tackle Foster first, since he seems the least antagonistic.”
“I have a question,” said Tracy. “If Foster is related to the casino people, do you think he might have come to Las Vegas to find that money? I mean he might have heard stories all his life about the missing money, so why not look for it?”
Emma sighed. “We have two detectives and we probably can’t trust either of them, at least for now. Maybe I’ll call Foster and just sound him out. Meanwhile, you try to contact Lenny and Granny.”
“Will do,” answered Milo.
• CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE •
“I REALLY want to find that Frankie,” Emma said, going to work on her iPad.
“What are you looking for?” Quinn asked. He pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store and parked at the far end and left the engine running.
“It’s an online people search engine. I’m going to see if there’s an address for him.” A few minutes later, she located something that looked promising. She pulled a credit card out of her wallet and punched the numbers into the purchase area. “It gave me a couple of listings.”
“Where are you going to print them?”
“They’ll pop up here, but will also be sent to my e-mail account. The accuracy will depend on whether or not he’s moved around a lot.”
Just as Emma was reviewing the two addresses provided for Frankie Varga, her cell phone rang. She answered. After the initial greeting, Emma listened to the caller and asked for an address. While on the call, she punched the addres
s she was given into the SUV’s GPS. When the call ended, she said to Quinn, “Head to that address.” She picked up her iced coffee and sucked down a third of it without realizing it.
Following orders, Quinn put the SUV in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. “Who was that? You hardly said a word on the call, but you’re about to suck an entire coffee, plastic cup and all, through that straw.”
“That was Gloria Youngblood, the woman at the reception desk at Desert Sun. She said she wants to talk, but we need to come right this minute. It just might be the break we need.”
“That’s not the address for the rest home.”
“It’s a restaurant. She said she’d be there, but only for the next fifteen to twenty minutes.”
They burned up ten minutes of Gloria’s time getting to the address she’d given Emma—a hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant not far from the rest home. The restaurant was long and dark, its front windows painted over with fading and scratched pictures of desert scenery—the sort of place only locals would go to and even then only those who knew the owner. Emma and Quinn walked in and let their eyes adjust before looking around for Gloria. They located her in a booth at the back by the kitchen. Without a word, Emma slid across red cracked vinyl and faced Gloria. Quinn slid in next to Emma.
“I don’t have much time,” Gloria said in a rush of words. Her glasses were pushed high on her nose and sweat beaded on her upper lip. In front of her was a half cup of black coffee in a thick, heavy mug. From the kitchen came the smell of hot lard, corn tortillas, and braised meat. An old woman, her doughy body wrapped in a dirty flowered apron, approached the table, refilled Gloria’s coffee, and stood ready to take their orders. Gloria waved her away with a half smile and a few words in Spanish.
“Why’d you call, Gloria?” Emma asked as soon as the woman left the table.
“You were right,” Gloria started. “Gene Garby and that detective are related. I think they are brothers.”
“You could have told me that over the phone.” Emma paused. “Unless there’s more.”
“Much more.” Gloria’s eyes darted around the dark restaurant, which was empty except for one table near the front door occupied by an old man eating and reading a newspaper.
Ghost of a Gamble (Granny Apples Mystery) Page 15
