Breaking it all down, Emma gave her partner everything they had, including passing the files of the two dead women over to her.
“So, nada on victim one?”
Both of them shook their heads.
“We went there, but nothing,” Emma replied. “I wish we got that lucky, but it wasn’t happening.”
Croft spoke up. “What did you both find out about Harrison Tyler?”
Detective Westmore went first. “We checked into his financials, and to say that he’s broke is an understatement. His partner is bringing in the only money, and the Crassmount is sucking them dry.”
Briggs continued. “The partner earns a decent salary. About two hundred thousand a year, but it’s getting dumped into the building, insurance, and a law suit they were hit with.”
That caught Emma’s attention. “A lawsuit?”
“It seems the orchestra director had a fall, tried to get workman’s comp, and was denied. He then went after the owner for negligent upkeep.” Brynn handed them the printout.
“Was it settled?”
The agent shook his head. “That’s just it. This is where the big money drain hit. Harrison Tyler hired this mega money lawyer, just like Mason Productions did, only to have the man suing them drop the suit the day of the hearing. It cost both Mason and Tyler a small fortune.”
Croft was intrigued. “So, Harrison was in the hole and digging out, but Mason didn't flinch. He probably has a staff full of lawyers on retainer to handle this kind of thing.”
Brynn grinned. “That sounds like more motive to me.”
Emma pointed at Briggs. “I want the name of both law firms. We’re going to have a little visit tomorrow.”
“Divide and conquer?” Curtis asked, hoping he’d be done with paper trails.
It wasn’t hard to see his partner was dying to get out into the field. “How about this? You get us both appointments to see the attorneys and you can handle one of them. Does that sound fair?”
He grinned. “Yes!”
Croft saw their food coming. “Oh hello, my old friend,” he said, watching as the waitress put the burger down in front of him. He lovingly eyed its whole grain bun.
Emma laughed, kissing his cheek. “Enjoy, you’ll be working that off later,” she purred quietly as she ran her hand up his thigh.
Suddenly, the burger wasn’t his focal point. “I can’t wait,” he replied, kissing her lightly on the lips. “Want a bite?” he offered, knowing the last time it was a disaster.
“I’ll try some bacon.”
Everyone at the table was silent.
Croft pushed his dish towards her and took her hand reassuringly in his under the table. Together they were unstoppable.
Emma broke off a piece of the bacon sticking out the back of the bun and took a deep breath. She mentally prepared herself as she tossed it in her mouth. Chewing, she grinned triumphantly at Greyson.
When his eyes filled with so much emotion at what she just pulled off, Emma wanted to celebrate. “That wasn’t too bad. I can do bacon,” she answered, staring into the silvery depths.
“I’m proud of you.”
Emma beamed as she turned back to her own food. Thanks to her husband, she was one-step closer to being whole again.
Briggs grinned at her. “Now, he gets bacon in the house. That’s the only reason he’s happy.”
Emma laughed, breaking off a forkful of salmon. “Yeah, I know that’s his hope, but he’s very wrong.”
Croft didn't care. His wife did something she wouldn’t have been able to do weeks ago. He’d give up bacon for life to heal her. As he picked up his burger, he glanced over at Curtis. “Did our profile come in?”
The man nodded, keeping his full mouth closed until he finished chewing. When he pulled out the dossier file, Emma took it from him to allow her husband to continue eating.
Opening it on her lap, she read over the information.
“What do we have?” he asked, taking another bite of food. “Can you read it to me?”
Emma was planning to do just that. “The profiler starts off with the symbolism of the lips, eyes, and ears. She states in the file that it’s either a twisted view of the ‘see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil’, or someone knows something and chose to turn a blind eye, and now the truth can’t be spoken.”
Croft pondered that over. “It makes sense with either one, but I’m leaning towards option two. If I was a killer, I’d take one victim and do the blinding, the next the ears, and the last one the mouth. All at once seems like overkill to me.”
“Overly dramatic?” Emma asked.
“Yeah, I guess you could say that. Why do all three on one person, especially if you planned on killing more people anyway?”
“I think I agree,” Emma offered. “To me, I think this whole entire thing is about the drama. The showgirls were flagrant, and to put it over the top, he took their eyes and ears.”
Brynn ate her toasted bagel, praying it calmed her stomach. “Don’t forget the last woman. Her mouth saw but didn't speak.”
They all looked over at her.
“What?”
Emma laughed. “What you just said was profound. The killer put the eyes in her mouth not only for drama, but to show that the person that saw something didn't speak.”
Curtis patted her on the knee, below the table. “We have three locations for bodies. Victim one was an alley in a residential section, victim two and three were outside a theater. With them, it was where they worked.”
Croft needed to know. “Did you get us in to see the man in charge at Mason Productions?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. I’m still working on it.”
“The profiler believes the killer is after something specific. Either it has to do with a production, or a person that’s affiliated with the show,” Emma added, flipping through the pages.
“How about the killer personally? What do we have from the profiler on the individual?” Croft inquired, having a bite of his salad.
Emma scanned, finding the information for her husband. “Your profiler believes the killer is going to be Caucasian. The gender is likely male with a ratio of seventy percent probability. Since the victims are in their twenties, the killer’s age is most likely around that or mid-thirties.”
“That fits Harrison Tyler,” Brynn said, “and also Judd Frazier.”
“Yeah, well, they’re both on our suspect list.” Croft pointed out. “Why the media, Em?” he asked.
She again searched the document. “Your profiler believes that the media is there to draw attention to the reason why it’s happening.”
“Well, they’re making it a circus,” Brynn said, finishing her bagel. The agent’s hand was back against her leg, and her nerves were calming. “We need to figure out what the three locations, the girls and the shows all have in common.”
He already knew the answer to that. “Mason Productions is at the center of it.”
“Uh oh.”
No one at the table liked the sound of that.
“What?” Croft said, warily eyeing his wife. “What did you find, because that wasn’t a good ‘uh oh’.”
Emma pointed as she handed him the file.
“Oh shit.”
“What?” Briggs asked, taking the file from Croft. He read it out loud to Brynn. “The profiler believes that the killer will up the stakes and pull something big to get attention, specifically if the media doesn’t get the focus he wants.”
“How often is your profiler wrong?” Emma questioned, looking at her husband.
“When it comes down to it, from what I’ve seen her pull out of the blue, she’s pretty damn close. There’s only one person better in the FBI.”
“Can we get a second opinion?” Emma hoped the woman was wrong, but if she wasn’t, they at least had something to stay one-step ahead.
“Director Ethan Blackhawk is the best in the empire. He’s my boss. I’ll email him and ask if he can give it a quick look.”
“Thanks,
babe, and until we hear back, I think we should precede with this being the real deal and prepare for something big.”
Briggs pulled out his tablet and started searching. As if reading their minds, he spoke. “On my way into Vegas on the flight they were promoting a brand new show opening soon.”
“Yeah? Here’s a bit of trivia for you. There are new shows weekly,” Brynn added. “We’ve got a haystack and can’t find the needle.”
“O ye, of little faith,” he replied, finding what he was looking for rather quickly.
Emma stared curiously. “Why are you thinking that one, Curtis?”
He enlarged the title and the insignia after it, splitting the screen, and pulling up the official website of Mason Productions. “I’ve been staring at that logo for two days, trying to get into the building.”
Croft grinned at his partner as he read the tablet. “Mason Productions is launching their biggest, baddest show to date. I think that may qualify as to what the profiler had in mind.”
“When is it?” Emma needed to know. This was going to be a mess if they didn't pull it off.
“It’s scheduled to debut with a fancy party on Saturday night.”
“Holy shit,” Detective Westmore mumbled. “That’s tomorrow.”
“We have to get in there and have access to the show!” Emma declared.
Briggs hated to burst her bubble, but he couldn’t get them in for an interview. “We may be shit out of luck, Emma.”
She grinned wickedly at her husband.
“What?” Now, he was nervous. His wife was staring at him with evil intent gleaming in her eyes. “When you look at me like that, I feel something bad brewing.”
“You’re the director of this field office. I think that gives you some clout.”
Yeah, he was absolutely right. He didn't like where this was heading at all.
“You could pull some strings and get us in easily.”
Oh hell.
“Honey, I can’t use FBI influence to get us into a Vegas show. That’s bending the rules a bit too much.”
She started laughing. “I know, but you could call upon your friend the police commissioner to see if he can get us in tomorrow. That’s not you asking as the director of the FBI in Vegas. It’s you asking as a friend.”
Now that had merit.
“Okay, that I can do.” He stood and dropped his napkin on the table. “I’ll meet you back at the squad room. Stay out of trouble.”
“You’re seriously going to do it?” Briggs asked laughing.
“Yep. I’m going down to Tom Booker’s house to drink bourbon and get us into that party,” he replied. “A happy wife is a very happy and sexually gratifying life.”
“That’s my Greyson, taking one for the team,” Emma added laughing. “He leads a really rough life.”
Croft leaned down and kissed his wife like he meant it. When he pulled away, her eyes said it all. “That wasn’t because you’re pimping your husband out for a show tomorrow.”
She laughed at the boy-like grin on his face. “Oh? What was it for, babe?”
“You’re buying me lunch.” With that he walked away whistling.
Briggs really wanted to be him when he grew up. “So, we go back to the office and work while he goes to smoke cigars and drink bourbon with the elite of the city?”
“He better not be smoking anything,” she said, watching him get into their Navigator. Emma never remotely even considered that as a possibility. The bourbon she was aware of, but the cigars… So much for keeping her husband’s body a temple.
The man was out of control.
When he called his old friend, he was just getting back from some golf at the country club. Asking to come see him, he was welcomed immediately for a little visit to catch up.
Walking up to the house, he wondered if maybe they should have purchased a home like this one. Yeah, it wasn’t as secure, but if they were one day going to have kids, it might be better to have a yard and place to ride bikes.
Putting the thought aside, he knocked and waited for someone to answer. When the door opened, he smiled. The woman standing there was grinning and laughing.
“Greyson Croft, you devil,” she teased, offering him a big hospitable hug. “I’ve been waiting for you to stop by for weeks now,” stated Trudy Booker.
Croft grinned at the older blonde woman. She had to be in her late fifties, but didn't look much older than himself. The woman was a fan of Botox and anything that could be stretched, lifted or tucked. Her sparkling blue eyes made her look maternal.
“Where’s your wife? Tom said you eloped and moved here. When are you bringing her by to meet me?”
He took her outstretched hand and was led into the living room. For some reason, he always felt welcome in this home. His friend and wife were nice people. “Emma’s at work right now, but if you invite us, I’ll see if she’s available.”
“I’m told she’s very pretty, but don’t tell Tom I said that. He wants me to say she’s a very capable cop.”
He took out his phone and pulled up the pictures from their honeymoon that he saved to look at when they were apart.
“Oh my, she’s not pretty! She’s beautiful and with such striking eyes too. I can’t wait to meet her!”
The voice from across the room boomed. “Stop trying to lure his wife into shopping with you, Trudy. You’ll have him weeping over credit card bills like I do.”
Both of them turned and Croft walked towards his old friend to hug him.
“Hey, you picked up a scar that wasn’t there before,” the man said, nodding at his face. “I bet it makes the women crazy,” he teased.
“My wife loves it,” he grinned wickedly, correcting the man. Any chance there would be plural ladies was long gone. “So, that’s all that really matters for me.”
“Giving up on the buffet of babes, huh?”
Croft never was much of a ladies man. He was always a one gal kind of guy. Commitment was something that should matter. Call him old fashioned, but his wedding vows meant everything to him.
“My Emma is all I want and need.”
“You didn't come here to talk about your wife, did you? You said there was something you needed and I hope that stubborn mule captain isn’t busting her…”
“Thomas!” Trudy cut him off.
“Butt! That’s what I was going to say, I swear,” he answered grinning. “Women today are so darn bossy.”
Croft had the opposite problem, unless it came to his dietary habits. “I have a little situation,” he said, going serious. Breaking it down, he told his old friend about the murders, the victims, and the problem they were having.
“Oh, I’ve heard about it. The mayor of Vegas is all over me on this one. I’m laying off Ford to give your girl a little wiggle room, but we need to stop this fast. When the media got wind, we started the clock ticking. Before long, we all know whose shoulders this is all going to weigh on.”
The meaning wasn’t missed. The lead detective was the one who went down with the ship, and Croft couldn’t let that happen to his wife.
“That’s why I’m here. I need a huge inappropriate favor, and I need it from friend to friend, not police commissioner to FBI director.”
As if trained, Trudy stood. “I’ll get you men a drink. The usual, Greyson?” she inquired. She knew after being married to the police commissioner for a long time there was a time and a place for her to be included in conversation and now wasn’t it.
“Yes, Trudy, if you don’t mind.”
They waited until the woman left.
“Spill it.”
“I need to get invited to the premier of Mason’s new show that opens tomorrow night. We believe that the killer is going to hit there. Emma wants to be on the scene to watch and observe, so she can stop it.”
He thought about it. “I can get you in, but not in a police capacity. If you go in, you need to be spectators, or I’ll burn that connection down the line.”
Croft complete
ly understood. Everything in Vegas was political. “What if I can promise extra men on the perimeter to guard the venue on the outside and just me enjoying my wife on the inside?”
“Let me make a call,” he stated, seeing what he could do to help a friend out.
When Trudy re-entered the room, she was carrying a tray with two glasses of amber liquid. She placed it down and went to her husband’s humidor. This was all part of being his wife and acting the ever welcoming host, but in this case it wasn’t a show. She genuinely liked the man in her home. At one time, she’d hoped he’d fall for their one daughter, but it didn't pan out.
“Cigar, Greyson?” She held out the box, waiting for him to choose the one he wanted.
He knew his wife was going to kick his ass, but when in Rome...
Greyson took the lighter and snips and prepared his cigar. “Thank you, Trudy. How’s the family?” he asked as she took a seat beside him. “Jenna is six months pregnant and Liza is still available.”
He started laughing. At one time, she’d tried to set him and her daughter up, but the woman wasn’t his type. She was one of the entitled rich, who believed that her husband should be a blank check to fill her times of boredom. He wanted nothing to do with a woman like that. Besides, there wasn’t that spark like there was with Emma.
“I’m VERY happily married,” he said, grinning. “You’d like Emma. She’s tough and ballsy. Very much like you,” he said, taking a sip of the very old bourbon.
“Yes, I wouldn’t think of breaking up a happy marriage. I just can’t figure out why Liza can’t find a man.”
It wasn’t because of her looks, he’d admit. She was lovely, but her personality wasn’t like her mother or father. Secretly, he called her the viper.
“I didn't think I’d ever get married, but one day Emma stormed into my life. I’m sure it’ll happen to Liza too,” he reassured. Yeah, it would happen when some idiot rolled into town and only took the time to see her for the pretty outer package.
Then the poor sucker was doomed.
Thomas Booker hung up his cell. “Well my boy that was Randall Mason on the phone. All I had to do was tell him the new director of the FBI field office was looking for something fun to do with his wife and friends, and he suggested the opening gala.”
Vegas is Dying (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 2) Page 26
