Furniture Fatality in Las Vegas

by A. R. Winters

  Perhaps I was reading too much into the whole thing—perhaps I should focus on Irene instead. If someone was blackmailing me, I would definitely want the blackmail to stop. Killing off the blackmailer might just be one way to do it.

  Chapter Twenty–Five

  When I got back from my shift at the casino, I had a quick nap, and before I knew it, it was time for me to get ready for Pearce’s visit. I had barely added the finishing touches to my makeup when there was a knock on the door.

  I opened it to find Pearce standing in the hallway, grinning broadly.

  “I would have brought roses or champagne,” he said, “but I think we know each other well enough to not need those silly things.”

  And more importantly, he was cheap.

  I nodded, grabbed my bag, and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind myself. Pearce’s grin immediately faltered. “We’re not staying in?”

  I shook my head no and went over to Ian’s apartment, with Pearce following close on my heels. I knocked three times, and when Ian opened the door, I glanced behind myself and was vaguely satisfied by the worry on Pearce’s flabby face.

  “You didn’t tell me we’d be visiting,” Pearce said. “You made me think this would be a date.”

  Ian was still dressed in his fire truck pajamas, and his red hair was disheveled and uncombed. Snowflake stared at me curiously and eyed Pearce with some distrust. She must’ve come to the conclusion that she didn’t want to associate with the likes of him, because a few seconds later, she climbed to the top of her cat tower and pretended to be asleep.

  “What time did you get back this morning?” I asked Ian.

  “Six, like you said I should. You’re right, it was too early for Cecilia at that hour. But you didn’t tell me you’d be stopping by. I was trying to get a little more sleep.”

  The three of us settled down on Ian’s sofa, and I said to him, “You should get changed and dressed. Text Cecilia and tell her to come over within half an hour.”

  Ian looked at me like I’d just asked him to give up playing video games forever. “Do I haave to?”

  “It’s part of my grand plan,” I told him. And then, I turned to Pearce and said, “You know how you’ve been telling us you’d like to experiment with pretending to have a trust fund? Well, here’s your chance. I’m going to introduce you to Cecilia, a gorgeous young lady who’s only interested in young men with trust funds.”

  Pearce brightened up, but his eyes looked slightly wary. “Why would you do that?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not really feeling it between us. Besides, Cecilia is much prettier than me, and she’s much more enthusiastic. You’ll like her better than me.”

  Pearce looked at me doubtfully. “This isn’t some kind of trick, is it?”

  Just then, Ian’s phone beeped with an incoming message, and he read the text. “It’s Cecilia. She says she was just on her way upstairs.”

  As soon as he finished reading the text, there was a sharp knock on the door. Ian disappeared into his bedroom to change, and I opened the door to a beaming, expectant Cecilia.

  Her hair looked extra bouncy today, her eyes all bright and perky, her makeup as immaculate as usual. Today, she was dressed in a red tank top with thin straps and a plunging neckline, and black running shorts.

  Her eyes and mouth went round when she saw me standing in the doorway instead of Ian, but she replaced her surprise quickly with a mask of politeness. “Fancy running into you here,” she said.

  I smiled, invited her inside, and said, “Ian woke up a little while ago, and he’s changing. Did you just come from a run?”

  She shook her head no, but the answer was obvious. Her hair and makeup were too perfect for anyone who’d been running. “I like wearing athletic clothes because they’re so comfortable,” she said.

  I wasn’t convinced that comfort was her motive behind wearing exercise clothes with six–inch high heels, but I said nothing. Instead, I glanced at Pearce, who had a self–satisfied smirk on his face. He looked like a child who’d just been presented with a large box of chocolates and told that they were all for him.

  “Cecilia,” I said, “this is my friend Pearce. He’s been having a run of bad luck with the ladies, and I thought I might introduce him to you.”

  “Oh,” said Cecilia, glancing at Pearce dismissively. “I’m so glad Iannikins is back from his friend’s place.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” said Pearce smoothly, ignoring Cecilia’s snub. “Tiffany told me that her friend was pretty, but I had no idea you’d be so gorgeous.”

  Cecilia smiled and batted her eyelashes, clearly more out of habit than anything else.

  “I have a hard time meeting nice girls,” Pearce went on. “I’m not interested in gold diggers, and whenever women hear that I’ve got a trust fund, they’re only interested in me for my money.”

  Cecilia sparked to life, like a windup doll who’d just been set off. Her eyes twinkled with new life, and there was a slightly insane glint to her smile. “What a shame,” she said.

  Pearce nodded. “I don’t like the kind of women I meet in Vegas. I need someone who’s happy to pay her own way, even though I’ve got all that money. I want someone who loves me for myself.”

  “That’s so true,” Cecilia purred. “It’s important to meet someone who likes you no matter what. Although, I have a hard time believing that someone as charming as you is actually single.”

  “No,” said Pearce. “It’s true.”

  Cecilia licked her lips slowly, as though trying to decide what to do. On the one hand, Pearce was as wide as a garbage truck and smelled just as bad; on the other hand, he was obviously much more interested in her than Ian.

  I wasn’t about to risk my plan going awry, so I said, “Pearce, you and Cecilia should get to know each other better. Why don’t you take her out to breakfast? There are some nice cafes nearby.”

  Pearce stood up gallantly. “That’s a great idea, Tiffany.” He held out one arm to Cecilia. “May I?”

  Cecilia smiled and nodded, and threaded her arm through Pearce’s.

  As they opened the door and walked down the hallway, I overheard Pearce say, “We’re going Dutch, of course. After the last few times, I’m not about to risk ending up with a gold digger.”

  “Of course,” Cecilia purred back. “I hate when women are only after men for the money.”

  I closed the door behind them, just as Ian emerged from his bedroom.

  “That was perfect,” he said, beaming at me. “I hope those two end up together.”

  I shook my head no. “I feel a bit bad about it, but this was the easiest way I could think of to get her out of our hair, without involving the police.”

  “How long do you think it will last?” said Ian, a shadow of doubt crossing his face.

  I shrugged. “Not too long. I’m thinking of calling her in a day or two and letting her know the truth about Pearce.”

  “No! Then she’ll come back and annoy me again!”

  I shook my head. “We’ll find some way to figure it out. In the meantime, we’re free to go ahead with our investigation without you having to dress up like a woman again.”

  Chapter Twenty–Six

  As soon as Pearce and Cecilia disappeared, Ian and I had a quick breakfast and headed straight over to the bank.

  When we got there, we found Eric standing in his usual position, staring ahead blankly. There were three customers in the bank today, two talking to Brett and Eva, and one waiting in line.

  If Eric was surprised to see us again, he gave no indication of it.

  “Busy day today,” I said, trying to make a bit of small talk before I jumped straight in with the questions.

  Eric shrugged. “It ebbs and flows.”

  “This is a pretty small branch,” Ian said. “I’ll bet there’s times when there’s absolutely no customers in here.”

  “Sure.”

  “That seems like a fun time,” Ian said thoughtfully. “You
could probably read or watch a movie on your tablet if there’s no one in here.”

  Eric shook his head. “I’ve still gotta stay alert. The tellers can read on their phones sometimes if there’s a lull, but I can’t.”

  “You’re very dedicated to your job,” I said, watching him carefully.

  Eric spread his hands wide apart. “Not really, but good jobs are hard to come by. I don’t want to mess anything up.”

  “That’s understandable,” I said. “The Vegas economy just isn’t picking up the way you’d think it would.”

  “Yeah, but I guess it’s better than some other places.”

  The number of customers had dwindled back down to one, and Brett was sitting by himself at his teller’s window while Eva talked to the other customer.

  Ian and I headed over to him, and once again, I saw him exchange a glance with Eric as the two of us approached.

  “You and Eric seem like really close friends,” I observed.

  Brett nodded. “Sometimes you meet a guy and just click, you know?”

  “It was like that with my friends back in college,” said Ian. “But I’ve never clicked like that with anyone else since. It’s hard to make friends when you’re an adult.”

  Brett nodded. “Everyone’s so caught up in their own lives. But Eric and I are both new to Vegas, so maybe that’s why we hit it off.”

  “Right,” I said. “Well, that’s nice for you. You made a close friend at work, and a new girlfriend.”

  “Janice wasn’t my girlfriend,” Brett said evenly. “I’ve already told you.”

  I nodded. “Yes, and you also told us that you were at the Paris Cat on Sunday night.”

  “Right, so?”

  “So, it turns out you weren’t there after all. We checked.”

  Brett looked at me steadily, not missing a beat. “I guess I forgot. I must’ve gone to one of the other jazz restaurants that’ve opened up recently.”

  “Which one?”

  “I don’t remember. I don’t have the best memory for these things.”

  I watched him carefully. His face gave nothing away—no nervousness, no guilt.

  Finally, I said, “Are you sure you were out on Sunday night?”

  “I’m sure. And now, if you’ll excuse me, we’ve got customers lining up.”

  Chapter Twenty–Seven

  Ian and I headed over to McDonald’s again, where we chowed down our burgers and fries thoughtfully.

  “There’s definitely something going on with Brett,” Ian said.

  I was tempted to agree with him, but I couldn’t figure out what it might be. “Maybe we should follow him home from work, see if that turns up anything.”

  “Maybe,” said Ian, just as my phone buzzed.

  The call was from Harry, who said he’d be having a staff meeting in an hour’s time, and Ian and I were welcome to come and watch, if that might help the investigation. “Sure,” I said. “It can’t hurt.”

  An hour later, Harry, Ian and I walked up to the entrance of Betta Furniture at the same time.

  We stood on the sidewalk, exchanging polite greetings, and then Harry said, “Do you have any good leads for me? It’s been a few days, and I’d been hoping you’d find something out already.”

  “I have a few leads,” I said slowly, “but it’s not something I can talk about just yet.”

  Harry raised one eyebrow. “Anyone in particular?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t tell you that. Integrity of the investigation and everything, I’m sure you understand.”

  “I suppose I do,” said Harry.

  “Don’t worry,” said Ian, trying to be reassuring. “We’ll probably have this case wrapped up soon.”

  “Of course, we can’t make any promises,” I added quickly. “Sometimes even promising cases take a long time to look into.”

  “Well,” said Harry as we stepped inside the furniture store, letting the blast of cold air wash over us, “I haven’t got all year. The insurance companies are breathing down my neck. I really need this mess sorted out.”

  He flipped a sign on the glass sliding doors, indicating that the store was now closed. “Time for the staff meeting.”

  “Aren’t you worried you’ll lose some customers during this time?” said Ian.

  Harry shook his head. “This is a dead time. The sign’s just to be safe, but you work in a store like this long enough, you learn when the dead times are. When there aren’t ever going to be any customers.”

  “Yeah,” said Ian. “Just like Eric, at the bank, was telling us. There are times when it’s dead and you can just read on your phone.”

  “Sure,” said Harry as he walked over to the center of the floor.

  I noticed that all the salespeople were here today, and Harry clapped his hands loudly. “Okay, everyone,” he called out, “gather round.”

  All the staff stood in a circle around him dutifully, and Harry began his speech. “Just because Janice is no longer with us doesn’t mean we have to give up the tradition. It’s time to announce this month’s employee of the month, and I’m sure you’re all wondering who it is.”

  As he spoke, I glanced around; pretty much everyone looked bored, and as though they wished they were somewhere else. Except for Emily, who had a small smile on her face.

  “And, our first new employee of the month in a long time is Emily Wickham. Come over, Emily, and collect your prize.”

  Emily walked over to Harry, who shook her hand and handed her a bag of chocolate designed to look like gold nuggets. “You also get this commemorative certificate,” he added, “and of course, the special employee of the month parking spot.”

  There was a smattering of applause, and Emily smiled and thanked him before retreating into the circle of employees again.

  “We’ve had a few setbacks last month,” said Harry, “but that doesn’t mean our store needs to suffer. This month, we’ll be running a sale on sofas, so expect a lot of young couples to be walk in through the doors, hoping to upgrade their furniture to something nicer. And remember, once a customer walks in, don’t forget to upsell them and encourage them to buy more furniture. So if they come in to buy a dining table set, encourage them to get some nice living room furniture as well.”

  He went on for a few minutes, and everyone around me seemed to be bored. I wasn’t entirely convinced that his speech was doing much to motivate employees, and thankfully, it ended a few minutes later. Harry went over to the front door, flipped the sign around to indicate that the store was open again, and headed back to talk to Ian and me.

  Emily appeared by his side before Harry could ask us anything about the investigation.

  “I just wanted to remind you,” Emily said to him, “that I’ve taken off work tomorrow and the day after. I scheduled it a while ago, but I can come into work if you really need me here.”

  Harry shook his head. “Go ahead, take your leave. We’ll manage without you for two days.”

  Emily smiled and nodded. “Thanks, it’s nice to take some time off.”

  “What’re you going to be doing on your days off?” said Ian. “I’ll bet you’ve got lots of big plans.”

  “Not really,” said Emily. “Eric’s got a day off, too, so I think the two of us might go for a hike tomorrow morning, then I’ll hit the casinos. I live in Vegas, but I never get a chance to play the slots or do anything touristy. After my hike, I’ll hit up some of the slot machines, play a little blackjack, see if I get lucky at roulette.”

  “That sounds like fun,” said Ian. “Do you have any casinos in mind?”

  “So far, my plan is to work my way down the Strip. I used to play a little blackjack, so I might try the tables at the Venetian. I haven’t been there in a while. Besides, I hear their lunch buffet’s really good.”

  “That sounds like a nice day off,” said Ian, sounding a bit envious. “I haven’t played slots in such a long time. Although I like the craps tables best; it’s always so much fun when someone hits a lucky st
reak!”

  John appeared behind us as we were all talking about casinos and time off. He looked at Emily and said, “If you’re not coming into work tomorrow, can I park in your spot?”

  Emily laughed. “I’m not about to turn into Janice. Of course you can park in my spot when I’m not here.”

  “Oh, great!” said John. “At least we get some use out of Janice’s death.” Immediately, he looked shocked that he’d just said this in front of Ian and me and turned to us apologetically. “I’m so sorry! I mean, you’ve gotta have a sense of humor about things, right? No matter how tragic.”

  I smiled. “It’s okay, I understand.”

  Although, if Janice really had been murdered, someone out there must’ve benefitted from her death.

  Chapter Twenty–Eight

  I’d become so used to life in the pit that the bright lights and loud jingles failed to distract me, and even though a loud group at the craps table broke into raucous laughter every couple of minutes, I failed to muster any curiosity about what was going on. Instead, I dealt cards by rote, forcing myself to smile politely and make friendly banter, all while being unable to stop thinking about Janice’s death.

  The truth about what had happened to Janice seemed to be just out there, just beyond my fingertips. At least one of those four people—Irene, Emily, Eric, or Brett—knew what had happened that day, and they wouldn’t let us in on their secret. It bothered me to no end, and I wondered what Ian and I needed to do next. Perhaps we could split up and tail them home from work; perhaps we needed to talk to their neighbors and family back home some more.

  My mind kept drifting back to the layout of the furniture store. Why had Janice been killed in the store? She could have just as easily been shot when she was at home, or poisoned to death. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the furniture store had something to do with her death.

  After I got home from my shift, I could barely sleep; I tossed and turned, annoyed that I hadn’t solved this case yet.