“Actually, I do,” he said, “Men don’t live as long as women, so us living guys are a bit in demand. I wish I’d been this popular when I was younger.”
I smiled and wondered how I could introduce Nanna to him without being obvious about it.
My phone rang. “Hi, Stone,” I said.
“What’s the apartment number?”
“I’m in, umm.” I pressed the phone against my shoulder and asked Glen, “What’s your apartment number?”
“402B,” he said, and I repeated it back to Stone.
He hung up and in two minutes, there was a knock on the door. I let him in and introduced him to Glen, before saying goodbye and promising to stop by to taste his new cake recipe soon.
We walked up the fire escape stairs to my level and Stone said, “Do you want to wait out here?”
I shook my head. I needed to see my apartment.
I walked with Stone to my door, and followed him across the threshold. I stood against one wall in the living room and surveyed the area. Stone had his gun in his hands, ready to shoot if required, and he prowled through my home, silent and deadly. I heard him opening the closet door, then the bathroom, and ruffling the curtains and clearing under the bed.
“No-one here,” he called and I closed the door and bolted it shut with a sigh of relief. I hadn’t expected there to be a second attacker lurking in the condo, but it was best to be on the safe side.
“What now?”
Stone surveyed the shattered remains of my ugly vase. “Did the guy break something?”
“No. I threw my vase at him.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. I wanted to elaborate but I felt foolish in retrospect, treating my vase like a bullet, so I said nothing.
Stone said, “At least your Feng Shui’s improved some. That vase was giving me the creeps.”
I tried to think of something to say to defend my poor vase’s honor, but I quickly gave up. He was right. The vase had been hideous and my place was better off without it.
Stone took my keys and locked and unlocked my door. “Guy’s a good lock-pick,” he said. “The lock works perfectly and you can’t tell he broke in.”
“Great,” I said. “Should I buy another lock and hope he can’t pick that one?”
Stone shook his head. “No point. Looks like he can pick just about anything.”
“Wonderful. So now what?”
“I’d recommend you check into a casino for a few days until you sort this thing out.”
I sighed. “You know you’re meant to check into a hotel, right? Not a casino. Besides, I like living here.”
“You can always tell Sophia you quit. I’m sure word’ll get back to these guys.”
“I can’t quit. Word might not get back and then I’d be dead anyway. Plus, I actually found something out today.”
Stone looked at me curiously but didn’t say anything.
There was nothing to discuss. I headed into the bedroom and packed a bigger suitcase.
“If you check into the Treasury Casino,” Stone said, “You won’t have to travel to and from work.”
“Only weirdoes live in the same place they work.”
“I live right next to where I work. My apartment’s in one building, the office is next door.”
“Next door is not the same as living in the exact same building.”
“Ok, then how about you check in next door at the Tremonte? You can walk to and from work. Less weird?”
I nodded. “Definitely less weird.”
“Good.”
He walked me down to the parking lot and watched as I got into my car. “I’ll meet you there,” he said.
I parked my car in the Tremonte parking lot and headed to Reception. Stone was already there.
“How’d you get here before me?” I said. “I started driving before you.”
“Valet parking, babe.”
I imagined the snooty Tremonte valet sneering at my ’99 Accord.
“I should check in,” I said, and walked to the counter.
After I put down my credit card details and got my room key, Stone walked half-way to the elevators with me. “Be careful,” he said. “Try to take a cab instead of driving. You can bill Sophia. And check your hotel room each time you enter. There are cameras all round the place, so I doubt anyone would try to break in, but it’s better to be careful.”
I nodded and watched him walk away.
I dumped my suitcase in my room, had a quick glance at the pretty view, packed my bag for work and headed out.
The bar I was meeting Emily at wasn’t too crowded yet. It was only slightly off-Strip, but a bit too boring for the tourists. At this hour there were a few locals in, and I could tell there were at least five guys trying to work up the courage to ask Emily if they could buy her a drink.
Emily waved when she saw me. She looked great as usual – she had short, curly brown hair and beautiful green eyes.
We had met through mutual friends just over a year ago, and had quickly bonded over drinks, spa visits and trips to Vegas’ mediocre art exhibitions. We spent a lot of time together, since most of our other friends were either married or engaged, while Emily was newly-divorced and I was just plain unlucky with men.
I liked her a lot, but we shared the kind of new friendship that was at once superficial, while also being deep and meaningful. Sometimes I wondered why she’d become a detective at the LVPD – she was clearly smart, sophisticated and ambitious, and would have done well in any career. Emily had moved here five years back with her husband, and I sensed there were things in her past she wasn’t willing to share with me just yet.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I said, as I slid into the chair opposite her. “It’s been a while.”
She nodded, and took a sip of her beer. “Yeah, I guess we both got busy. How’re you doing?”
We exchanged a few details of our lives, and I ordered a martini and waited for the cocktail waitress to leave before I got down to business. I’d never asked Emily for a professional favor before, and I hoped this wouldn’t change our friendship.
“I’ve got something to announce,” I said. “You know how I’m always talking about leaving the casino gig and becoming a PI?”
“Ye-es…”
Emily looked at me warily and I went on, “Well, I’ve got my first case!”
“Hang on a second. Are you even accredited? Finished your training?”
I frowned. “My client doesn’t care that I’m still in training.”
“Ok. Who’s your client?”
“Sophia Becker.”
Emily let out a soft whistle. “And how’s that going for you?”
“You don’t think I’ll uncover anything new?”
A guarded look came over Emily’s face. She took her job as a law enforcement officer seriously, and I could tell she didn’t think one of her colleagues could overlook anything. But at the same time, she didn’t want to hurt my feelings by being too blunt.
“Sophia Becker,” Emily started slowly, “May have hired you for many reasons. Not just to uncover something new. But maybe even just to be able to say during her trial that she hired a PI to uncover new evidence.”
“You don’t think she could be innocent?”
Emily shrugged. “It’s not my job to decide who’s innocent or not, it’s not any Police Detective’s job to do that. Our job is to find who the most likely suspect is. And at this stage, it’s Sophia Becker.”
“But – maybe it’s not.”
Emily sighed. “Look, off the record? This woman’s as good as convicted. They found the gun in her bedroom, the one used to kill Ethan Becker. And she had motive, means and opportunity. There’s not much else to look for.”
“Can you tell me anything about the case?”
“No, ‘fraid not. It wasn’t my case anyway, so it’s not like I’d know any details. But it’s still an open case, which means I’m not allowed to say anything about it in public.”
And like it
or not, I was part of that public. My shoulders slumped and I twisted my lips. I didn’t want to push Emily into revealing anything she wasn’t meant to, but I still asked. “Can you at least give me the press release version?”
“Sure, why not? But I’m sure you’ve already read it in the press.”
“I did, but maybe I missed something. Maybe just hearing you tell me will make me remember something.”
Emily shrugged. “If you insist.”
She repeated like a litany what I’d already read in the newspapers. Ethan Becker had been found dead in his car at 5am by a jogger, time of death was estimated at 1am; police had discovered the murder weapon in Sophia Becker’s bedroom, she had been arrested as the chief suspect and was now out on a million-dollar bail.
It wasn’t anything I didn’t already know, but I still nodded, feeling that at least I’d tried my best. “What about Audrey Waldgraf?” I asked. “Do you know anything about that case?”
She looked at me, slightly puzzled. “That one’s closed. Burglary gone wrong.”
“Do you know who might have done it?”
“No.” Emily shook her head. “We found prints, but they didn’t match with anyone in the system, so it was someone who’s never been arrested before.”
“Hmm.” I took a long sip of my martini. “Did you know Audrey was having an affair with Ethan Becker?”
Emily shook her head. “We heard rumors, but there was nothing conclusive.”
“You don’t think that’s suspicious?”
“No. We couldn’t prove they were having an affair. And even if they were, it doesn’t mean anything.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I just find it too coincidental, don’t you? Ethan’s killed, then his supposed mistress dies?”
Emily looked down at her drink and then back at me. “I don’t believe in coincidences, but this might just be one.”
Talking about Audrey was reminding me of the guy who’d tried to kill me today. Before I could help myself, I said, “There was a guy in my condo today, waiting for me with a gun.”
Emily looked at me in shock. “Are you sure he was waiting for you?”
I nodded. “And I’m pretty sure, if I hadn’t run away in time, I’d be dead. Another ‘burglary gone wrong’ victim.”
Emily looked at me carefully. “Are you ok? Hurt?”
“I’m fine. I just… I think this might’ve been how Audrey died.”
Emily shook her head. “We don’t know that. Do you know what he was after?”
“No, but I think it’s got to do with the Ethan Becker investigation.”
Emily sighed. “I wish I could offer you police protection or something, but you know the department’s swamped. We’ve barely got enough resources to go after criminals…”
“It’s ok.” I reached out and squeezed her hand, touched by her concern. “I wasn’t expecting special treatment. And besides, I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”
Hope glimmered in Emily’s eyes. “You’ve been doing the self-defense training I was telling you about?”
“Uh, yeah. Absolutely. I’ve been taking classes.” She didn’t need to know it was only one so far.
“And you’re getting yourself a gun?”
“Yep, applied for a permit and everything.”
Emily leaned back in relief. “You know, I worry about you.”
“You shouldn’t. I can take care of myself.”
Emily shook her head in exasperation and I changed the topic quickly, before she could give me a hard time about not being equipped to deal with the crazies. We chatted about a mutual friend who had gotten tired of Vegas and was moving to New York, and we talked a bit about the latest blockbuster movie we were both looking forward to seeing.
I promised Emily we’d make time to go watch it together. After reassuring her that I’d take care of myself and keep going to my self-defense classes, I left and headed over to the Treasury, where I went through my nightly routine of pretending to be a friendly dealer.
Chapter Sixteen
It was convenient living next door to work and it was also nice to get back to my room after my shift and find it devoid of lock-picking, mask-wearing, gun-toting men. I was able to drift off quickly and I woke the next morning ready to tackle the world.
I had a quick breakfast at the buffet, skipping the eggs and hash browns and getting my morning serving of fruits from an apricot Danish and a blueberry muffin. I thought about Glen – if I was still living in my condo, maybe I could’ve headed downstairs and had breakfast with him. I wondered if he’d be willing to do a trade: he could supply breakfast pastries and I could supply – what, exactly? I racked my brains and tried to think of things I could barter for baked goods, but I couldn’t come up with anything. The pleasure of my company would have to suffice.
Once I was back in my room, I connected to the casino wifi and logged into one of my social networking accounts. A quick search for ‘Audrey Waldgraf’ brought up her profile and then it was just a matter of browsing through her list of friends, looking for someone who’d listed their phone number publicly.
Some of Audrey’s friends didn’t seem to care about their privacy at all. I was able to choose between no less than ten people and I finally picked a girl who had gone to college with Audrey. I figured she’d know.
She answered my call immediately. “Hello?”
“Amelia Murray?” I asked.
“Yes?”
She sounded like she was in her mid-twenties, slightly younger than me, but just young enough to be a whole lot more immature.
“Amelia, this is Caroline, one of Audrey Waldgraf’s old friends. She gave me your number one time because we were out clubbing and we meant to invite you to join us.”
“Oh my God, that’s like, so sad. I’m so sorry about what happened to her and it’s great that she wanted to hang out like that.”
“Yeah, I know.” I fake-commiserated and hoped I was correct in guessing that Audrey would have had a boyfriend, or at least an ex-boyfriend, that Amelia knew about. I said, “So, I’m also trying to get in touch with her ex-boyfriend, but I don’t have his phone number. Do you have it with you?”
“Derek? Yeah, I’ve got it, just a second.”
Within a few minutes, I had Derek’s phone number. I thanked Amelia for her help, told her we should hang out some time and hung up.
I called Derek’s number and a confused-sounding guy said, “Oh. Yeah. Uh. Hello.”
I smiled brightly and put on my chipper voice. “Hi. Is that Derek?”
There was a pause and then a suspicious-sounding, “No-oo?”
“Who’s that?”
“Nate?”
“Is Derek there?”
“No-oo.”
“Is this his phone?”
“No-oo.”
“Do you have Derek’s phone number?”
“Ye-es.”
“Could I have it please?”
“Oh. Kaay.”
I’m not sure if I woke the guy up, if he was stoned or if he was in a bad mood. After he gave me Derek’s phone number, I hung up and punched a fist in the air.
I called Derek’s new number with some trepidation. For all I knew, Nate didn’t really know Derek’s number, or he’d made it up to mess with my head, or he was really Derek - pretending to be Nate.
It rang three times and someone picked up. “This is Derek.”
“Derek.” I breathed a sigh of relief and then the words came tumbling out. “Hi, I’m Tiffany Black, I’m a private investigator looking into Audrey’s death. Is this a bad time for you?”
There was a long pause and then he said, “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“You’re Audrey’s ex-boyfriend, right?”
“Ye-es.”
“I’m sorry to hear about her death. This must be very difficult for you, but I’m investigating what happened since I think the police might have missed something.”
I could hear the wheels turning inside his head
and then he said, “Ok.”
“Ok! Well, would you like to have lunch with me today?”
“Where?”
“How about the McDonald’s near Tremonte Casino?”
There was another pause as he pondered the option. “Ok.”
I went back online and checked Amelia’s social networking account again. There were two photos with a man tagged as Derek Girard and I tried to memorize the way he looked.
There were also a number of photos with a girl tagged as Audrey, and I looked at her carefully. She looked young and happy in the photos and she was cute in a way Sophia wasn’t. Her cheeks were flushed and she had dark brown hair. I thought about the fact that her lock had been picked and that someone had also broken into my place. And I thought about Sophia’s claim that someone had broken into her house and planted the gun. I thought the three events should be connected, but I couldn’t see how.
I had two hours to kill before my lunch date, so I called the number for Max Desilva.
“This is Max,” he answered, sounding vaguely sleepy.
I introduced myself and told him I was a PI investigating the Ethan Becker murder. “Would you mind if we had a chat sometime?”
“Not at all,” he said, sounding friendlier than I’d expected. “What time works for you?”
I did the math: two hours from now I’d start lunch, and that should be over within an hour. “How about 3 pm?”
“Sounds alright. You wanna pick a place?”
I named a café that I knew was just a few minutes’ walk from the McDonalds, and Max told me he’d meet me there. I was pleasantly surprised – I’d expected Max to be hostile and uncooperative, given his history with Ethan.
The last call I needed to make was to my parents. I had no idea if they’d left messages on my machine back in the condo, but I needed to at least let them know that I was staying in a hotel for a while.
When my mom picked up, I told her that I was staying at Tremonte for a few days while my condo was repainted. That was another white lie, and I refused to feel guilty about it.
Mom went silent for a few seconds after I told her about the repainting and I wondered whether she’d heard me ok. And then she said, “What’s this really about? I know your condo’s fine, why aren’t you living there?” There was a brief pause and I tried to think of how to convince her that my condo really was being repainted. It was a terrible excuse and I should’ve thought of something better, but before I could say anything, Mom exclaimed, “I know! You’ve moved in with Stone! That’s wonderful news.”
Innocent in Las Vegas: A Humorous Tiffany Black Mystery (Tiffany Black Mysteries Book 1) Page 11
