by Lily Webb
“Yikes,” Mallory said, grimacing. “It’s one thing to lie to your clients, it’s another thing entirely to do it to your wife.”
“That’s not the worst of it. When the money from his own reserves dried up, Victor said that Percy started raising people’s interest rates for no discernable reason, even clients who hadn’t defaulted on their payments,” Xander said and my heart slipped in my chest like a rock climber on the ledge.
Becker Bloodworth flashed in my mind, and I took a deep breath. Could Percy really have given Becker — and Lilith only knew how many other people, Grandma and me nearly included — a predatory loan to line his own pockets on the interest?
“Are you saying Percy was stealing from his clients?” I asked.
“I don’t know that I’d call it stealing, per se, but it wasn’t far off from that,” Xander said. “I’m telling you, any amount of money that came into his hands slipped through his fingers like sand. He couldn’t help himself. I’m sure Victor tried to talk him out of it, but desperation makes people do crazy things.”
Yeah, like murder.
“Is that what happened to Becker? Is that why he made a scene in the bank?”
“What else could it have been? Percy insisted on handling Becker himself, so I’m sure that’s why.”
“Who else?”
“A lot of people, but I think he met his match when he tried it on Giovanni Luca,” Xander said and my skin prickled. Giovanni was the name of the person Percy spoke to on the phone while I was in his office applying for a loan I never got — talk about dodging a bullet.
“I’ve heard the name, but I don’t know anything about him. Who is he?”
“You really don’t know?” Xander asked, genuinely surprised.
“No, not a clue.”
“He’s a werewolf who owns the Stubbe's Palace Casino that opened not too long ago over in the Werewolves’ Quarter. The bank gave him a ton of money to help build it,” Xander said and everything clicked into place in my mind.
Of course Percy helped finance the casino. What better investment for a greedy banker? He probably threw money at Giovanni in hopes he’d be given preferential treatment at worst, and a good word put in with the mob at best.
And given that I’d recently learned about the existence of a werewolf mafia, it fit perfectly that a werewolf would want to build an expensive, luxury casino. Mobsters loved that sort of thing — a squeaky-clean front for their dirty deals conducted in the back — and they weren’t above killing someone for perceived wrongs. A sudden interest rate hike would definitely qualify as a wrong, in their eyes.
I shuddered and pushed the idea away.
“How much money did Percy give Giovanni?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Xander said. “Victor told me a lot of things, but he was pretty guarded when it came to specifics, especially with numbers. Or it could’ve been that he didn’t know. Percy liked to keep things from Victor, and that was probably something he wouldn’t have wanted to share.”
“A lot of good that did Percy, in retrospect,” I sighed and Xander nodded.
“You’re the first person I’ve told any of this,” he said. “I owe a lot to Percy and Victor, so I’m not gossiping for the sake of it. If it weren’t for Percy plucking me out of nothing, I might still be bussing tables in this dump of a pub. At this rate, I might be back to it soon.”
“You worked here?” I asked.
“How do you think I got hired at the bank?” Xander laughed. “Percy was in here one night not long after his father died. He was three sheets to the wind and bragging about his new position as leader of the bank. I kept bringing him drinks and before I knew it, he’d offered me a job.”
“Interesting,” I said. If it was that easy to get information out of him, what other secrets did Percy let slip — and to whom? Had his tongue ever gotten so loose that he shared the wrong thing with the wrong person? Or had he accidentally revealed something lurking in the vaults of the bank that someone would kill to get their hands on? I had to find out.
“You should talk to Giovanni. I bet he’d be able to tell you a lot more than I can about whatever arrangement he and Percy had,” Xander said and I nodded my agreement.
“You’re right, but how am I supposed to get the rich owner of a casino alone?”
“You’re a journalist, aren’t you? Last I heard, the casino isn’t off to a great start. They might still be trying to drum up business by carting reporters through its halls to impress them into writing puff pieces about it, so maybe you could catch his ear that way. I’m surprised the Messenger hasn’t already sent someone though,” Xander said.
So was I. Given that I covered the town and government beat for the Messenger, an opportunity as big as a private tour of the new casino should’ve come across my desk. I most likely would’ve turned it down anyway, but it was odd that the offer was never made. Maybe they thought I’d ask too many real questions? It was impossible to say.
Mallory picked up Xander’s fallen King, an image that wasn’t lost on me, and clucked her tongue at him as she set it back in place.
“You need to get better at chess,” she said. “Maybe I should give you a lesson sometime.” Xander frowned at her as she pushed back from the table.
“Come on, Zoe, I think we’ve got everything we need and I don’t really want to pay another few hundred Moons to the bouncer to stay any longer. I can already feel my lungs blackening from being in here,” Mallory said.
“Thanks for the help, Xander,” I said. He nodded.
“Hey, before you go, is there any chance you might know of any job leads? You know, to repay me for the tips?” Xander asked. I had to hand it to him, he was savvy.
“I don’t, but you I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for you,” I said.
“Likewise,” Xander said and I left with my head as clouded as the smoke-drenched pub.
Chapter Eight
Mitch leaned against the corner of his desk, his knuckles white from the weight, and fixed me with a look that said I was the last person he wanted to see in his office.
“What is it this time?” he asked, and had it not been for the smirk hiding in the bush of his beard like a scared animal I might’ve guessed he was upset with me — but he was only ribbing me, as usual.
“What, can’t two friends talk?”
“Please, you only ever come in here when you want something, so out with it,” Mitch said.
“Honestly, I have a question. Why wasn’t I invited to do a press tour of Stubbe’s Palace?” I asked and Mitch snorted.
“Wait, are you serious? Are you really upset I didn’t send you on some dead-end story to schmooze with rich people?” Mitch asked. “That doesn’t seem like you.”
“It isn’t, but that’s not why I’m asking. I know I make it seem otherwise sometimes, but not everything is about me,” I said.
“Don’t ever let yourself get caught admitting that on tape or you’ll never live it down,” Mitch said and winked at me. “Honestly, Zoe, I didn’t think you’d be interested. More than that, I don’t want to print it. That casino has gotten more than enough coverage from everyone else. It’s distracting from the real news.”
“Yeah, like banks getting robbed,” I said.
“Exactly.”
“Okay, but be honest: did we ever even get an invite?” I asked.
“Yes, of course we did. Outside of Channel 666, we’re the biggest news source in all of Moon Grove. They couldn’t have afforded to ignore us, even if they’d wanted,” Mitch said.
“So then what would you say if I asked you to call and make a tour appointment for me?”
“I’d say you were out of your mind,” Mitch laughed. “We’ve got much better things to do.”
“You might not think that after you hear what I’ve found,” I said and Mitch’s expression darkened.
“Which is?”
“Does the name Giovanni Luca ring any bells for you?” I asked and Mitch hopped off his desk
to stroke his beard.
“Of course, he’s the owner of the casino. What about him?”
“Don’t flip out, but I’m pretty sure he had something to do with the bank robbery,” I said.
“What makes you think that?”
“Turns out our favorite gambling bank owner, Percy, decided to jack up the interest rates on everyone’s loans — including Giovanni’s — to pay back a mortgage he’d defaulted on, among other debts,” I said. Mitch’s brows stitched together.
“Wait, Giovanni had a loan from the bank?”
“Yeah, according to one of the bank’s former employees I talked to yesterday,” I said. “It was news to me too, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. That casino is sure to rake in all kinds of cash, so it was a prudent investment on Percy’s behalf,” Mitch said.
“Yeah, especially given his gambling problem. He probably thought it would give him special privileges at the casino,” I said.
“Right, but now the bank has been robbed and Percy’s dead. I see where you’re going with this,” Mitch said.
“So I take it that means you don’t think I’m out of my mind to go on a tour of the casino anymore?”
Mitch smiled at me and walked around his desk to pick up the phone. It was rare for me to convince him that easily, but I wasn’t complaining. He smashed some numbers on the receiver and a second later someone answered.
“Yes, hello, this is Mitch Harris with the Moon Grove Messenger. A few weeks ago, we got an invite to do a press tour of your facilities, and though we declined it at the time, we’ve reconsidered,” Mitch said.
A tinny voice rapped a response I didn’t understand. A few more seconds passed before Mitch held a thumb up at me.
“Oh, you already have a tour scheduled for this afternoon? Even better. Yes, I do have someone in mind, her name is Zoe Clarke,” Mitch said and a smile spread across my face.
The voice said something back and Mitch thanked them before hanging up the phone.
“That seemed painless,” I said.
“You got lucky, that's for sure. They made room for you on someone else’s tour,” Mitch said.
“Interesting. Did they say who?”
“I didn’t ask. Anyway, they want you there by three, so you’d better get moving,” Mitch said, checking his wristwatch for the time. “You’ve only got about half an hour. Do you know where the casino is?”
“Not exactly,” I said. I knew it was in the Werewolves’ Quarter somewhere, and it probably wouldn’t be hard to miss, but it wouldn’t hurt to have directions.
“Southeast corner, not far from the town gates. It’s colossal, and over-the-top to boot, so I’m sure you’ll know it when you see it,” Mitch said.
“What’s with the name of the casino, anyway?”
“Wait, you don’t know the story of Stubbe?” Mitch asked.
“No. Should I?”
“Peter Stubbe, the first werewolf?” Mitch prompted. I racked my brain for the name but came up empty.
“Never heard of him,” I said, and Mitch rolled his eyes.
“Of course not, farm girl. Anyway, get going, I don’t want you to be late.”
“Thanks, Mitch, I appreciate it,” I said.
“Don’t do anything to get yourself or the paper in trouble. I know you’ve got more facts swirling around then you’ve told me, but be careful,” Mitch said.
“I’ll be in a casino crawling with security, I don’t really think I’ll have anything to worry about,” I said.
“Hopefully not.”
“See you in a bit,” I said and headed for the door.
I had no idea what to take with me — would they confiscate everything at the entrance for security anyway? — so I emptied my bag of everything except for my wand, my phone, a pad of paper, and a pen.
I hurried across town toward the town gates at the south end and took a left onto Fang Street, which led into the heart of the Werewolves’ Quarter. My skin crawled as I passed Pupperoni Pizza, where I’d almost died in an attempted arson a week prior. The smell of dough and tomato sauce in the wood-fired oven invaded my nostrils, but rather than make me hungry, it made me nauseous.
At the end of Fang Street, the peak of the casino crested over the woods that separated it from the rest of the area. It was the middle of the afternoon but still the building was lit up like a Christmas tree.
As I wandered up the long drive leading to the casino, the building towered over me. Rounded into a crescent moon shape, the combination hotel and casino rose at least twenty floors high and sparkled in the sun like some sort of perverse jewel. Compared to the rest of the dilapidated buildings in the area, the casino stuck out like a perfectly molded golden crown in a mouthful of broken teeth.
The courtyard the building surrounded was ringed by statues of wolves, each of them snarling their disapproval at me as I passed. In the center, a grand fountain housed another werewolf statue with its head tossed back mid-howl. Jets of water erupted from wolf’s mouth and from behind it, illuminated by lights hidden beneath the fountain’s surface.
It was more than a little over-the-top. Who thought it was a good idea to build a luxury casino in the middle of the Werewolves’ Quarter, which by all accounts wasn’t a desirable place to live? Maybe the real estate was cheap? Or maybe it didn’t really matter.
I crossed the courtyard and pushed my way through the revolving door, which whooshed as it swallowed me. On the other side, a sloped, high-ceilinged hall decorated with royal red carpet greeted me. Dozens of Roman-style pillars lined the room, and between each pillar hung an expensive, hand-painted piece, framed in gold. Was it real?
With my mouth hanging open, I pushed further down the entrance, struggling to take everything in, until I came to a fork in the path. A sign hanging on the ceiling above said the reception was to the left and elevators were to the right. I didn’t really know where I was supposed to be going or who I was supposed to meet, so I hung a left and made my way to the reception desk.
A werewolf in a ruby red suit that probably cost more than I made in a month smiled as I approached, her matching red lipstick giving her an unsettling look.
“Hello, welcome to Stubbe’s Palace. My name is Belinda, how can I help you today?” she asked when I reached the desk.
“Yes, hello. I’m Zoe Clarke. I’m here for a press tour of the casino on behalf of the Moon Grove Messenger, but I don’t know where I’m supposed to be going,” I said.
“Not to worry, you’re in the right place. We’ve been expecting you,” Belinda said and I fought back the shiver that tingled at the base of my spine. Hopefully, that didn’t mean they weren’t planning to never let me leave.
Belinda hammered away at her keyboard and when she finished, she smiled up at me and held out her hand.
“There we go. Before we start the tour, I need to collect your wand, please,” she said.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s for security purposes. We can’t have anyone casting mischievous magic in the casino. I’m sure you understand,” she said.
“Yeah, right, of course,” I said and fished my wand out of my bag to plop it into her hand.
“Don’t worry, it will be kept in a locked vault while you’re on the tour,” Belinda said, but that didn’t comfort me. As I’d recently learned, no vault was safe.
“Speaking of, who else am I going to be touring with today?” I asked.
“Marcel Desfleurs,” Belinda and a male voice said in unison. I whirled to find a young looking vampire standing behind me, his dark, curly hair tumbling down his face. He pushed his round, spotted glasses up his nose and smiled at me.
“No way!” I said as I ran to give Marcell a hug. He was as cold as stone, like all the other vampires, but something about his smile made me forget it. Had it not been for Marcel and his incredible skills behind a camera, I probably wouldn’t have been standing there to appreciate the casino.
>
“I’m surprised to see you too, honestly,” Marcel said. “This doesn’t really seem like the sort of thing you’d be interested in writing about.”
“Hey, I don’t want to be predictable,” I said and Marcel laughed.
“I take it you two know each other?” Belinda said.
“Sure do, but it’s a long story. Anyway, don’t worry, he doesn’t have a wand to check in,” I said.
“Perfect. Please excuse me for a few moments while I alert the rest of the staff that both of you are here,” Belinda said and disappeared through a door I wouldn’t have noticed had she not used it. It was cut perfectly into the wood paneling behind her.
“So what brought you here in the middle of the day? Weren’t you napping?” I asked Marcel and he shrugged, smiling.
“I figured it couldn’t hurt. If nothing else, I’d at least get some great pictures out of it,” he said, tapping the camera he wore around his neck. “Nothing beats a neon dream.”
“Fair enough.”
“Why are you here?” he asked. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Belinda hadn’t returned, and though my every word was probably being recorded, Marcel was trustworthy enough to share the basic details with him.
“I can’t tell you the nitty-gritty, but I’m really here to talk to Giovanni, the owner,” I said. Marcel’s deep eyes flashed and he nodded.
“Okay. I guess I can be your eyes and ears on the ground. I mean, if you want me to, anyway,” Marcel said.
“Yes, absolutely. That would help a ton,” I said.
“Thank you for waiting, your tour is ready to begin,” Belinda said, appearing out of nowhere. “Mr. Desfleurs, please, follow me.” She stepped out from behind the desk and led Marcel to the intersection of the main hall. She introduced him to another staff member, a male werewolf in a matching red suit, and stomped back to me with the same smile on her face.
“I thought Marcel and I were touring together?”
