“Thelma and Ethan – were they close?”
“I guess, in a way.” Sophia shrugged. “She wasn’t too fond of me, which I understand, but it still hurt and I was hoping we’d become friends. But now, none of the family will talk to me.”
“And Leo? He’s got motive, with all that inheritance money.”
“Maybe my judgment’s been compromised, but I don’t think Leo could do that to his dad. I just can’t see him…” She shook her head. “Anyway, he has an excellent alibi. Night of the murder, he was partying till dawn with fifty of his friends.”
“How old is Leo?”
“Twenty-one. He’s a student at UNLV. Here.” She handed me a piece of paper. “It’s a list of names, relationships and contact details for everyone you should talk to.”
I ran my eyes down the list. Thelma Durant, sister. Neil Durant, brother-in-law. Leo Becker, son. I paused. “Vanessa Conigliani, ex-wife?”
“Ethan’s first wife. They split ten years ago. Leo’s mom.”
I nodded. “Is there anyone else I should talk to, other than family? Who else is on the casino board? This might be related to Ethan’s work.”
Sophia looked up a contact on her phone and wrote down a name. Steven Macarthur, Manager. “He’s on the board,” she said, “But he was on the casino floor the entire night, watching a group of blackjack players. He’s recorded on camera for literally every second of that night. And besides, he and Ethan got on really well. Ethan adored him, thought he could do no wrong.”
“Four people on the board?”
“The fifth was Laura Schumaker, but she’s the corporate lawyer and isn’t involved in the business.”
“Anything else I should know?”
Sophia shook her head. “Not that I can think of. But I should tell you, Neil never liked me and we never got along. He was always saying unkind things about me behind my back, and I’ve always thought he’s one of those good-looking bull-shitters that’s faking their way into places.”
It takes one to know one. I finished my cupcake slowly, savoring the rich chocolaty goodness, and wondered if Sophia was judging Neil too harshly through the lens of her own prejudice. I was sure his arriving home late on the night of the murder was just a coincidence, and I wondered where else I could begin my investigation.
Chapter Four
By the time I left Sophia’s house, I’d decided to talk to Neil another day. I was going to talk to Leo Becker first. Motive-wise he had the most to gain and people had committed crimes for far less than the millions of dollars Ethan had left his son. Leo did have a great alibi, but still…
I glanced at the address Sophia had given me and headed west. I took the ramp onto the 515 and, after a few minutes of enduring crazy expressway drivers, I took the Flamingo exit. A few minutes later, I found myself at Swenson.
Leo’s apartment was in a nondescript brown building, near the UNLV campus. I sat in my car for a few minutes, watching people coming and going. Most were in their twenties; it seemed like a popular place for students to rent. I gave myself a little pep talk as I sat by myself – I was going to be the tough investigator and I was going to get the information I needed out of this kid. He didn’t stand a chance against me.
A few minutes later, I was standing near the building’s gate, looking down at the list of names Sophia had given me, wondering if it would’ve been best to call ahead. Probably not.
I was wondering how to unlock the security door, when a youngish-looking man walked out of the building, and held the door open for me. “Are you visiting someone?”
He was annoyingly young and looked at me like I was someone’s kindly aunt. I would’ve been happier if he’d realized that I have youthful good looks, but this was work, and I needed to get through that security door. So I played along with the part, and said in what I hoped was an aunt-like voice, “Leo Becker. Do you know him?”
“Yeah, sure. Easy-going guy.”
He smiled and left, and I made my way through the building to Leo’s apartment. I knocked twice and after a while the door was opened by a young man with disheveled hair and crumpled clothes.
“Leo Becker?”
He blinked slowly, stretched and looked at me in confusion. “Yeah?”
“Mind if I come in?” I held up my PI’s badge. It didn’t mean much, but Leo didn’t know that.
He stumbled away from the door and I closed it behind myself.
“Just a second.” Leo left me alone to go to the bathroom and I heard the sounds of splashing water.
I used the time as an opportunity to look around. There wasn’t much to see – it was a tiny studio apartment, with a bed on one side of the room, a desk and three chairs, a flat-screen TV, and clothes on the floor. The kitchenette must have been added as an after-thought. It wasn’t practical for anything other than heating up leftovers, though that was probably all it was ever used for.
The place smelled vaguely of leftover Chinese food, and the window in the kitchenette overlooked the car park. I tried to imagine Leo cleaning up the place to have a girl visit, and I could see that happening. But I couldn’t imagine him hosting a party, or having friends over to watch the Superbowl.
I hadn’t expected such a normal place. I’d imagined Leo living in somewhere ostentatious, acting like the rich kid he was.
He emerged from the bathroom looking slightly more awake and stumbled over to the desk, where he sat down, closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against his eyelids. Ah, college hangovers. I noticed a Nespresso machine on the counter, and before I could help it, I said, “Would you like me to make you a coffee?”
I had actually turned into a kindly old aunt.
Thankfully, Leo shook his head and wandered over to the coffee machine himself. I couldn’t help feeling relieved – I’m hopelessly incompetent when it comes to making things in the kitchen, even simple things like a cup of coffee. If Leo had left the coffee-making to me, I would probably have wound up breaking the machine, and flooding the tiny kitchenette floor with hot water and milk.
Leo went about inserting pods wordlessly and making his drink. There was something helpless and naïve about him that made me feel strangely empathetic. It was obvious why Sophia thought he could never be a killer.
As I watched him pour out the coffee, I said, “Big party last night?”
Leo nodded silently.
“Do you party much?”
“No.”
Finally, a word! Though it was really more of a groan.
I waited quietly for a few minutes as Leo gulped down his coffee like it was some disgusting medicine. I didn’t have high hopes about it helping with his hangover, but it might make him feel more awake, or at the very least, feel a bit more like talking.
When he finished his drink, he turned and faced me. “What’s this about?”
“I’m looking into your father’s murder. Do you think Sophia did it?”
Sadness washed over his face briefly, and I wondered how he was handling the death. Leo shook his head. “I never liked her, but I don’t think she did it.”
“Why didn’t you like her?”
He shrugged. “She’s too young. Dad can marry whoever he wants, but really? Marrying a stripper, at his age, how much more of a cliché can you be?”
“Did you see her much?”
“Hardly. We had a few dinners and she tried to be friendly, but who cares? I expected him to divorce her after a few years anyway, like he divorced my mom. I stayed out of her way.”
“Right.” I wanted to ask about Ethan’s divorce, but I decided to wait. “So what makes you think she didn’t do it?”
He looked at me for a long time and then finally said, “I forgot about the gun. So she did it, huh?”
“I don’t know, I’m asking you what you think.”
“She married him for the money. Why would she kill him?” There was a long pause and then he shrugged. “Maybe she found out about one of his girls. Maybe she really did love him.”
/> I tried not to let my surprise show. “What girls?”
Leo looked at me, narrowed his eyes and laughed shortly. “Dad always has – had— girls. He was never faithful to my mom. I can’t imagine he’s changed.”
“How do you know he wasn’t faithful?”
“Mom told me, later on. And I could tell. He’s no saint. You think he stopped seeing strippers just because he married one?”
It was my turn to stare at Leo. His words were giving me the creeps.
I changed the topic quickly. “So, your mom. How old were you when they divorced?”
“Ten, almost eleven. Mom took it pretty hard. He gave her money, but I think…” He shook his head. “She was always sad.”
“Right.” The conversation was taking a depressing turn, and hearing about their divorce probably wouldn’t help me. So I said, “Your place looks neat, how long have you been staying here?”
“Last two years. It’s the dumps, you mean.”
I laughed. “I was a messy kid myself. But I thought…”
“That I’d have fancy digs?” Leo smiled and shook his head. “This is fine.”
“Most kids don’t know who your dad is, do they?”
“No. I like being in college, doing my own thing. I know I’ll have to go work at the casino at some point, but till then…”
There was a brief silence again. I said, “If Sophia didn’t do it, who do you think might…”I let my words trail off. I was asking a kid who he thought might have killed his dad, and he looked so young and vulnerable. I wanted to act like a professional PI, but instead, I found myself worrying about how Leo was coping.
He got up, went to the kitchenette and poured himself some cereal. “Uncle Neil and Dad used to argue sometimes. I didn’t think it was serious, but you must’ve read in the papers how he drove home from the same party but didn’t see the car or anything.”
“Right. Anyone else? Maybe at work?”
There was a long pause as Leo added some milk and dug into the cereal. “Max,” he said. “Max something. He used to be Manager at the Riverbelle, but Dad fired him. One time I was having dinner with Dad and he rocked up unannounced and started yelling stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Don’t remember. Dad dragged him off to a different room and they talked some, and then he left.”
I nodded, making a mental note.
Leo chomped down some more cereal. “Do you need to know anything else?”
I shook my head, and pulled out my wallet. I put my business card on his table and said, “Call me if you think of anything.”
He nodded. “Right.”
I turned to leave and said, “You were at a party that night, right?”
“Yeah, at my friend Matt’s house. There were fifty other people, there’s photos up on Facebook.”
“When did you leave?”
“Around three. My friend Kevin lives up the street and he gave me a lift home.”
I nodded. Leo did have the perfect alibi. Maybe it was too perfect. “Well, thanks for your help.”
I let myself out and sat in the car, jotting down notes and wondering why Sophia hadn’t mentioned anything about Ethan’s infidelities. It bothered me that she’d left out something so important, and I wondered what else she might have left out.
Chapter Five
I replayed Nanna’s message from the previous night. Her voice was low and I could make out the soft music of slot machines and jingling coins in the background: “Tiffany! You must be at work. I’m at work too. Just met the World’s Biggest Sucker - but don’t tell your mother.”
I smiled to myself and then played the message I’d received this morning. “Tiffany, this is your mother. Call me back when you get this. Your grandmother came home after 1 a.m. last night and I know she’s up to something. Has she told you anything?”
Just when I was thinking of maybe calling back tomorrow, my phone rang. It was my mother again.
I groaned, but there was no point putting it off. I summoned up my courage and answered the phone. “Hi, Mom.”
“Tiffany.” I could hear the disapproval in every syllable, and I pictured her standing in the middle of the kitchen, wearing her ‘Mom Uniform’ of a floral-print shirt and baggy, high-waisted jeans. “Do you have any idea what your grandmother’s up to?”
“No, Mom.”
“Well.” There was a slight pause and Mom lowered her voice. “She came home late last night but I couldn’t smell any alcohol on her. I’d be happier if she was out drinking. She said she was playing slots with her friends, but I don’t believe that.”
“I’m sure she can take care of herself.”
“Hmm.” There was a pause. “How are you doing?”
“I’m ok.”
“Have you met anyone nice? You know, I’ve been telling you I could introduce you to my friend Kirra’s son. He’s very handsome.”
I groaned. “No, Mom, I don’t want to meet him. I told you before.” She tried to say something but I interrupted quickly, “Is Nanna around? Maybe she’ll tell me what she’s doing.”
My mom was clearly disappointed at not being able to regale me with tales of how wonderful Kirra’s son was. But curiosity about what Nanna was up to won out. “Ok,” she said, sounding a bit dejected. “Hang on.”
I heard her calling out, and then a long pause until Nanna picked up the phone in her room. “Tiffany, dear.”
“Hi Nanna, how are you?”
“Tiffany, I know your mother’s listening in from the phone downstairs and I told her specifically not to. I may be old, but I need my privacy. How would she like it if I listened in on her call to Berta when she talked about how annoyed she was tha– ”
I heard a soft, disgusted grunt, and then a sharp click. I laughed and I could sense Nanna smiling at me with her sharp blue eyes at the other end of the line. She was pretty quick with her opinions and insights, and despite her wrinkles and white hair, she was a snazzier dresser than my mom.
“So,” I said, “How’s the poker going?”
“Terrific. You know, last night I was at the Mirage and this hick man from Texas showed up. Played all aggressive at first, so I took him for a ride, and then he tightened up and lost on some big hands. And then I lost a hand to him on purpose, bidding up on a pair of fours, and he thought I was a stupid old hag and started playing too aggressively again. And after that,” she finished smugly, “I won some of the easiest money ever.”
“Well, good for you!”
I was proud of my Nanna. At seventy-four, she’s one of the smartest, most ruthless women ever, and it’s a terrible idea to cross her. She’s not a Vegas local, but when she moved here a few years ago to live with her daughter she quickly infiltrated Vegas’ mafia-like retirees’ society, learned all the local gossip, and got the hang of Vegas coupons, slots and comps.
A few weeks back, I thought she might be getting a bit bored. One of her closest friends, Madge, had passed away and Nanna started talking about getting too old to do things. So I introduced her to the world of poker. I was sure she’d be a natural, with her innate talent for math, seeing through peoples’ lies, and keeping her own thoughts and knowledge under wraps.
I was right. So far, Nanna had been steadily picking up more skills, playing up her Silly Old Codger persona and, thanks to clueless tourists and drunken locals, slowly increasing her bankroll. According to her, poker was fun, exciting, and of course, profitable.
“How’s your love life?” Nanna asked. “Have you met anyone exciting?”
“I’m too busy for that, Nanna. I –”
“You know,” she said, “You haven’t been with a man in ages. In my day, we used to say, ‘use it or lose it.’”
I didn’t want to know what ‘it’ was. Nanna has a gift for the inappropriate, and though she’s super-smart, sometimes I dread to hear what will come out of her mouth next. So I quickly said, “Actually, I’m too busy because I got my first case as a PI!”
“Well that’s exciting!”
“Yeah, but remember, don’t tell Mom and Dad about my PI work yet. I want to be able to close my first real case before I tell them what I’m doing.”
“Ok. So who’s the client?”
“Sophia Becker.”
I heard a sharp intake of breath and then Nanna said, “That old Ethan Becker murder? I never believed for a moment that Sophia was the killer!”
“Really? Because they found the gun in her bedroom…”
Nanna made a noise like a cat throwing up. “That’s nothing, something else is fishy. You need to focus on the other suspects, wrap things up fast. This case should be a cinch for you, I don’t want you wasting too much time – don’t you want me to see my great-grandchildren before I die?”
“Sure,” I said, slightly disappointed that no matter what, Nanna managed to turn the conversation back to my non-existent love-life and off-spring. “Anyway, I should say goodbye to Mom and get to work.”
I heard Nanna holler for my mother, and after a few seconds Mom picked up. “Well? What’s going on with your Nanna?”
“Oh, nothing.” I tried to keep my tone light. “I think she’s just having some fun with those old friends of hers.”
My mother made a strange snorting noise. “That’s not much better! You know how much trouble those crazy old hoons can get into.”
“I think they’re just enjoying some late-night comped buffet dinners. You shouldn’t worry so much.”
“Hmm.” My mother sounded doubtful, and I made a move to hang up before she could start badgering me again about my life, my boyfriend and my career – or my lack thereof of all three. Well, maybe the career thing might improve if I could solve this case.
“Give my love to Dad,” I said, “And don’t feed Sprinkles so often, he’s way fatter than any cat should be.”
Chapter Six
I stood at an empty blackjack table, cards spread out in a fan before me, waiting for someone to step up. It didn’t take long. The weekend rush continues till Monday at the Treasury, and it was still only Sunday.
Innocent in Las Vegas: A Humorous Tiffany Black Mystery (Tiffany Black Mysteries Book 1) Page 2
