She raked in the $5,000. The mortgage was made; still...she should have turned and left, but didn’t. The shoe was hot; the math gods were definitely in her favor.
Thaddeus could tell that she had gone beyond the hollow-pit-in-the-stomach feeling of losing her stake. So now what would she try?
What happened next would mean everything to Thaddeus and Matty Jones. Matty was a card counter himself. An expert. And such a prodigy that the Desert Riviera paid him to teach other dealers how to spot it. He had taught Thaddeus over the last couple of years, since Thaddeus had taken over. You couldn’t have Matty’s job without being a proficient card counter, the ruse was so common.
She continued playing—$100 bets, nothing big.
So Thaddeus began counting cards: +2, 0, -1, 0, +1, +3.
He noticed that when she should win, she usually did and when she should lose she usually lost. He also noticed that the count was in her favor when she would bet more than one black chip. When it was against her, she bet just one black chip.
It seemed clear that she was counting, but he still wasn’t positive. The last thing he wanted to do was run off some amateur who just happened to be having a lucky night. That was very bad for business; word quickly got around.
What puzzled him the most about the whole past hour was how obvious she had been. She clearly knew who Matt was. Probably had figured out who Thaddeus was by now. And he guessed she definitely knew that Thaddeus was standing right beside her and watching her every bet. Yet she still played as if she were counting and didn’t give a damn who knew it. She rocked along, never changing the expression on her face, never making eye contact, and drinking only iced tea.
Thaddeus was aching to get a good look at her face.
There was just something there, something he should know.
Finally the shoe ran dry, the decks were reshuffled, and the cards were again in favor of the house, as they always were on a new deal. The house had two percent on the players. That’s the house odds in blackjack.
She bet one chip. Of course. He would have been shocked at anything larger. But he would also have been less suspicious of her if she had bet more.
She quickly lost $800 on $100 bets.
Had Thaddeus only known how right he was—that she was an expert card counter—he would have bounced her right there. But he didn’t know, and he wasn’t positive she was counting.
He looked over at Matt.
He gave back a small shrug.
Which meant she was very damn good.
She suddenly scooped up her chips.
“Potty break,” she muttered, and strode off toward the restrooms.
The wannabe cowboys looked heartbroken.
“Lady Luck,” moaned one of them.
They ordered fresh whiskeys. When she hadn’t returned in ten minutes they looked at each other. Agreement passed between them and they left the table.
Thaddeus figured they wanted to play at her table, wherever she had gone, and they were off to hunt her down.
The cowboys knew she was loaded, at least by their measure.
They grinned at each other. This would be easy.
* * *
They found her at the other end of the high-limit floor. She was placing $1,000 bets on another blackjack table.
In fifteen minutes she racked up $15,000 in wins.
So the shift manager motioned Thaddeus down to that end.
Kiki’s winnings had surpassed $15,000 by the time Thaddeus reached her table.
This time there was no doubt in his mind.
Thaddeus touched her elbow and whispered, “Can I get a word with you?”
She turned and looked. He was wearing the Las Vegas casino owners’ mandatory navy Armani and Gucci loafers.
As she turned around, the eye-in-the-sky clocked her mug shot and, within seconds, thousands of casinos saw her face, learned her name, and were apprised of her game. Her school-of-hard-knocks study had officially come to a screeching halt.
At that exact same instant, Thaddeus saw who it was.
“What?” she said, all innocence now. With just a hint of indignation.
Thaddeus imagined that she had probably answered to Mom in this tone, with this attitude, in twelfth grade when she was asked how late she stayed out last night.
“Kiki?” he said. “Kiki Murfee?”
She frowned. “Kiki Murphy, Thaddeus. With a ‘phy.’”
“What—what—”
“What, I can’t gamble here? Because my brother owns the place? Is that a rule?”
“My God!” he cried. “I didn’t know—you looked familiar, but it’s been so long!”
“I started to send you an invitation to my graduation then didn’t. You wouldn’t have come anyway. So I came here.”
“Pick up your chips and follow me,” he said. The old protective urge drove him to get her away from all this.
“Well—who the hell are you?”
“I’m the owner. And you’re counting cards in my casino.”
“What the hell is card counting?”
“Let’s not have a scene, Kiki,” he said. “Just take your chips over to the teller, cash out, and don’t gamble here again. Or anywhere on the Strip. It’s not safe for you.”
She sniffed. “If you say so. But I still don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” he said. “Let’s just leave it at this. I don’t want your business and I don’t want you gambling in my casino, whether you’re counting or not. Maybe you’re just too lucky for us. Now let’s go sit down someplace quiet and talk. I’m glad you found me and I love you too much to just watch you walk out.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll leave. But I’m telling all my friends about this place. They’ll stay away in droves.”
“I’ll make a note of that. We’ll have to increase our advertising budget to respond to your power, I’m sure.”
He kicked himself. That last comment was unnecessary and snotty, but she was testing him.
“You do that,” she grumbled.
“I will.”
She turned in a huff and headed for the teller’s cage.
“Kiki!” he shouted. Heads turned to look at him, but she continued on a direct path to where she could trade her chips for cash and leave.
Later, he would admit that he should have followed after her and maybe he would have noticed the two cowboys still on her tail. But he was unsure of where they were at as brother and sister, so he gave her some space.
She was young enough that she would take his orders and leave and probably wouldn’t ever return. Which, he realized, wasn’t what he wanted, so he motioned Matty over. “Have someone follow her,” he whispered. “And for god’s sakes tell them not to get caught.”
Luckily for Thaddeus—and the casino—the CCTV cameras watched the two dudes from Ohio shadow her outside.
From what he would later read in the police reports, she set out on the sidewalk between casinos. She was stamping along, head down, in a rage.
The two gentlemen came up on either side of her and grabbed an arm. A scuffle ensued and one guy got kicked in the groin. It wasn’t a disabling kick and by now he was coming back at her with a full head of steam like a nut-kicked bull. But it had allowed her to break free and by the time he was within arm’s reach, she had whipped the pistol from the Coach bag and had it pointing at the guy’s heart.
He stopped, took two steps back, and began to raise his hands.
His hands were up to his shoulders when the gun fired. He was dead before he hit the ground.
The other guy froze but immediately raised his hands over his head.
She had enough presence of mind to tell him not to leave or she would shoot him too.
And she had enough presence of mind not to shoot this time.
CCTV along the Strip picked it up and three different cameras made three different recordings of the action from three different angles. Except they all mis
sed the head-on shot, the angle from which the dead guy had observed.
The attack on Kiki Murphy was recorded and made available to the Las Vegas PD by the constant live feed their police system enjoyed. Long story short, the detectives had reviewed the film and the shooting before the patrol officers made it back to the station with her.
* * *
Charles M. Berenson, Director of Security at Desert Riviera Casino and Hotel, came into Thaddeus’ office at midnight, a grim look on his normally blank face.
He slumped in a chair. It was late at night, two hours later than he normally hung around.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said.
“Okay, go,” Thaddeus responded.
“That girl you eighty-sixed, Kiki Murphy? Our guy John Voss started to follow her, like you said.”
“I remember. What about her? Has she sued us already?”
“No, she shot and killed one of our customers.”
“What! What the hell are you talking about?”
“Calm down. They weren’t on our property when it happened.”
“Okay, tell me exactly what you know.”
“Evidently these two drugstore cowboys followed her outside. They tried to rob her, she shot one of them, nailed him in the heart. She’s downtown at LVPD as we speak.”
“You’re sure they were our customers did this?”
“Our security monitors show them following her around our casino and then outside. CCTV street side shows the same two idiots taking her on. Evidently she was armed and they were clueless.”
“Oh my God! Where is she, LVPD downtown?”
“I guess.” He yawned. “Getting late.”
“Do we know any great criminal lawyers?”
He spread his hands. “It’s not our problem, Thad. Didn’t happen on our premises. Let the cops sort it out. I’m going home to bed.”
Thaddeus abruptly stood and began slipping on his suit coat. “I’m going downtown.”
“Where? Why?”
“To talk to her. She’s going to need a lawyer and I just want to make sure she doesn’t give a statement before she’s represented.”
“Such as yourself?”
Thaddeus looked up. “Hey, did I say that?”
“Isn’t that why you got yourself admitted to the Nevada bar?”
“Not hardly. I wanted to be able to represent the casino.”
He smiled through tired eyes. “I know you. A lady in distress and all that.”
“She’s my sister. Take over here.”
Thaddeus headed downstairs to executive parking.
There was no time to waste. His own flesh and blood was about to go through the horrors of hell in the criminal justice system, and he had to be there.
There was just no choice.
7
Traffic was nothing and he made it to the jail before 1 a.m. The Clark County Detention Center was located on Casino Center Boulevard, within a stone’s throw of Goodfellas Bailbond and Blackjack Bond and Bail.
The receptionist studied Thaddeus’ bar card, gave him two dirty looks—the second just for good measure—and buzzed him on through.
Inside he signed in at the main desk and was escorted to a meeting room. It wasn’t much, just a blue enamel door, steel conference table, and six steel stools bolted to the floor. The fluorescent light gave the green walls a bluish cast.
He waited fifteen minutes.
They led her in, no cuffs no leg chains, and she took a seat opposite.
He was surprised to see she was still dressed in her casino clothes. No orange jumpsuit and flip-flops, no cuffs and waist chain, no leg irons. By now she was wrinkled, the clothes hanging limply from her frame.
Her eyes were red, bloodshot, her cheeks tear-stained.
She gave him a disgusted look. He could see she had been immediately disappointed.
“You. What the hell do you want?” she asked.
Her nose was stuffy and her hands shaky with fear. She managed to extract a cigarette from a hard pack in her shirt.
Remarkably, they had also left her with her lighter. Must be new people on shift tonight, he thought.
Her upper body shook while she lit up. She blew a hazy plume across the table.
He leaned away and she smiled.
“I just wanted to talk to you for a few. I’m sorry those two guys followed you from my casino. I should have picked up on them and I feel bad.”
“Feel better now? You’ve made your amends, so fuck off.”
“Kiki—you still go by Kiki, not Kassandra?”
A shaky hand brought the cigarette to her lips and she inhaled. “That’s what I normally answer to. Until tonight. Now it’s ‘Hey you!’”
“I get that. Why did you come to Las Vegas?”
She shrugged. “Why did you?”
“Good question. It was kind of roundabout for me. But you came to gamble. Or did you come to find me?”
Another shrug. “I’m a gambler. Just like you. Except you’re on the house side of the table. I’m on the players’ side. But we’re both playing the same game.”
“Does Dad know you’re here?”
“Sure. I called him already.”
“What did he say? Is he going to help?”
She shook her head violently. He could see the rage in her eyes. “You know Dad: ‘You got yourself into it, you can get yourself out.’”
Thaddeus shook his head. “Some things never change. Well...look. Will you let me help?”
“Do I have any choice?”
“There’s always the public defender.” He then remembered his most important message. “By the way, don’t talk to anyone.”
“I’ve seen enough TV. Don’t give a statement, don’t talk to any cellmates because they’ll rat me out, don’t fall asleep around the crazies they got me locked up with.”
“You’re not single-celled?”
“Nope. I’m in the drunk tank.”
“Unbelievable. So. What’s your name?”
“I told you. ‘Murphy’ with a ‘phy.’”
“Why’d you change it?”
“Would you want to have your name associated with Mother?”
“I still use the family name.”
“Yes, but you live way the hell gone somewhere else. Nobody knows.”
“How’d you find me?”
“It was in the LA papers when you got the casino. It was huge news.”
“And you came rushing up to Vegas to gamble in my place?”
She drew a deep breath. “Actually, something just like that, yes.”
“Kiki, you shot and killed someone tonight. Has that sunk in yet?”
Her upper body shook. Her legs jiggled. She stabbed the cigarette between her lips and inhaled mightily. “You mean have I realized my life is over? Yes, I realize that.”
“Maybe, maybe not. A lot depends on how you handle yourself in here.”
“Like what is your best advice?”
He pursed his lips. Maybe he had found a chink in her armor. “You do not talk to the police, the detectives, nobody. You hire the best criminal attorney in Nevada. If you’ll do these two things, you’ve got a fighting chance.”
“I already called Dad. He’s still loaded with bucks, but like I said, he blew me off.”
“Unbelievable.”
“No, that’s just how he is. You remember.”
“Do I ever.”
“Except I’ve now got ten grand to my name and that’s not going to hire the best lawyer in Nevada.”
“No, it’s not. Someone’s going to want at least a hundred grand up front before they’ll touch your case.”
“Agree.”
“Look, why don’t we do this,” he said carefully. “Why don’t I stand up with you before the judge in the morning? We’ll come up with a motion for bail, which will probably be shot down because the district attorney will cry that it’s a capital case.”
“A what?”
“A death penalty case.”<
br />
“They’ve got the death penalty in Nevada?”
“Capital punishment is legal in Nevada.”
He could feel the hairs prickle along the back of his neck when he said that.
It was a terrible thought, his own sister sentenced to death for a fight that was not of her making. The old racehorse was starting to warm up.
Still, he neither wanted to be involved in her legal problems nor did he have the experience for it. Plus there was something about not representing a loved one, wasn’t there? Some wise saying?
“So you would do that? You would stand up with me?”
“I would. But I’ve only defended a handful of murder cases. I’m not the guy you want long term.”
“But it would be something for me to have you in the morning. The public defenders are never in your corner. At least not according to all the TV shows. They’re always on overload and just want to plead you guilty and move on to the next file.”
“Maybe that’s true, I don’t know about Clark County. Tell the truth, I’ve never appeared in criminal court here. I should really obtain another attorney to help me with this initial stuff.”
“So you’re tossing me to the wolves?”
“I’m trying to save you from the wolves. If you’ll let me.”
Tears flooded into her eyes despite her effort to appear immune from her life. “You know, I always had, like, this mystical dream of finding you. Like we would be siblings again and it would all be okay. And now it feels like you’re going to abandon me again.”
“Right now you don’t need a brother for your lawyer. You need the best lawyer money can buy. And I can do that for you. I’m going to do that for you.”
She looked past him, crying silently. “Whatever.”
He tried to catch her eyes, but she wouldn’t look at him.
He sighed. “I’ll be in court in the morning and I’ll have the top lawyer in the state with me. I promise you that.”
Nothing.
She was gone again. It was no use to pursue her.
Attorney at Large (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 3) Page 4
