I let out a low whistle. I’d seen the Tremonte’s suites, and they were very nice.
“Sounds like a great deal. Is he still at the Tremonte?”
“Still going strong,” said Nanna proudly. “The deal was open-ended and the Tremonte never tried to push him out or anything. He’s been singing there for the last thirty-five years!”
My eyebrows shot up. “Wow. That’s like a lifetime in casino years.”
Ian said, “I don’t think Jack even owned the Tremonte back then.”
“No, he didn’t,” I said. “Not as far as I know. That place’s been through a bunch of ownership and management changes, not to mention how many times the place has been redecorated.”
“Redecorations are a constant with the casinos,” Ian said. “I had no idea ‘til I moved here! Things are always changing—that’s part of why Vegas is so awesome!”
There were nights when I definitely had my doubts about the splendor and magnificence of Vegas, but the delicious pancakes had put me in a generous mood. “Sure,” I nodded.
I looked at Nanna, who was just finishing up her pancakes. “But how come the Tremonte didn’t try to push Roger out? If he’s a has-been, he must be costing them money. And I never knew Jack to be charitable when it came to business.”
“He’s not a has-been!” said Nanna, her eyes gleaming. “He makes the casino money! Sure, he doesn’t sell out the huge auditoriums like he used to, but he does smaller lounge shows that sell a decent amount of tickets. The Tremonte wouldn’t push him out.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “So, even though Roger’s not a big star any more, he still sells tickets as a lounge singer.”
“He sure does,” said Nanna proudly. “And he’s good.”
I cocked one eyebrow at her. “And you know he’s good because…?”
Nanna shuffled in her seat. “Well, I’ve been to see his show now and then,” she admitted. “For old times’ sake. You know, like when your mom used to drag me along to see his shows.”
I was pretty sure Nanna was the one who did the dragging, but I kept that thought to myself. “And you think he’s still a good performer. And still pretty handsome.”
She hadn’t actually said that last bit out loud, but I watched that video of him stuffing the body into the oven and being arrested, and the man was still easy on the eyes, even if he was a killer.
“Oh, definitely,” Nanna said, bobbing her head up and down like it was attached to a string. “So handsome. And the women still throw themselves at him.”
I sighed. Roger Briars sounded like the kind of maniacal narcissist who thought he could get away with murder. Literally.
The pancakes were all demolished, and I poured myself a second mug of coffee, wondering what to do next.
I promised Nanna I’d hear her out and that I’d go talk to Roger, but I hadn’t promised anything more. Still, I thought it was a good idea to go speak to Roger equipped with the facts.
“And what about the dead guy?” I asked.
“Who?” asked Nanna.
Ian blinked at me like a goldfish and shook his head.
“The guy Roger stuffed into the oven,” I explained patiently. “The guy I found in that frilly pink robe?”
“No idea,” said Nanna.
“Zilch,” said Ian.
“Nada,” said Nanna, just for confirmation.
I sighed. “So all you’ve got to tell me is public info about Roger Briars—and nothing about the guy he killed?”
“Suspected of killing,” said Nanna. “They haven’t proven it, and they won’t. Because you’re going to clear his name.”
“Hang on,” I said. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’ll go talk to Roger, but if I get even the smallest murdery vibe from him, I’m not taking this case.”
“He’s not a killer!” Nanna protested.
“Well, I guess we’ll find out. But there are some other people I need to talk to first.”
Chapter 6
I had a series of phone calls I needed to make after Nanna and Ian had left.
The first was an uncomfortable call to Susan Hartley, whose mother I’d failed to track down.
“This is a simple task,” Susan said, her annoyance obvious on the phone. “Good thing I’m not paying by the hour! Why can’t you just talk to her?”
“She keeps disappearing,” I said. “I don’t know why she doesn’t want to talk to me, but she doesn’t.”
“Hang on.” Someone was yelling in the background, and Susan yelled back to them. “I don’t have time to waste,” she told me once she was back on the line. “Either you find my mom, or you refund my money. Seems like I could just fly down to Vegas and talk to her myself.”
I took a deep breath. “I’ll talk to her soon,” I promised. “Either that, or I’ll refund your money.”
One awkward phone call down, one more to make, I told myself after I hung up.
I stared at the screen for a few seconds, and then finally brought up the contacts list, scrolling through ‘til I found who I wanted to talk to.
After one ring, he answered the phone.
“Tiffany,” Jack said. “This is a nice surprise.”
We exchanged slightly stilted pleasantries, and then I said, “Actually, this is a business call.”
“Of course it is,” Jack said lightly. “I’m not disappointed at all.”
I laughed, unable to stop myself. “You know me.”
“I do,” said Jack. “In fact, I’m in the neighborhood. Why don’t I stop by your place in five minutes, and we can talk then?”
“I—” I couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough. “Sure.”
I spent the next five minutes whirling through my place like a dervish.
Cushions were straightened, random misplaced items put back into their normal places.
The towel finally came off my head, but I didn’t have time to dry my hair properly. I did, however, have time to change out of my fluffy robe and into Bermuda shorts and a slightly dressy top—and to slap on some eyeliner and mascara. Not that I cared what Jack thought of my appearance.
But I needed to run out to talk to Detective Elwood soon, and I may as well be dressed properly.
There was a knock on my door just as I’d finished dabbing on some neutral-colored lipstick.
I opened the door and smiled broadly. “Hi, Jack!”
He peered at me carefully. “Are you okay? You seem a bit out of breath.”
“Oh, just been—” I waved my hand dismissively. Once again, I didn’t seem to be able to come up with an excuse fast enough.
“Well, you look great,” he said.
I smiled. Our eyes met, and then I looked away as I shut the door carefully, and indicated he sit down.
“You look great, too,” I mumbled, finding it hard to say the words.
He really did though. His eyes were that gorgeous shade of green flecked with gold that had captured my heart the first time we’d met. His dark blond hair was cropped short and he was dressed in chinos and a checkered shirt.
“What were you doing in the neighborhood?” I asked, trying to ignore how nervous I suddenly felt.
Jack grinned. “Had to see a PI about an employee background check. You’re not interested in the job, are you? You know the Tremonte needs lots of background checks done.”
And have my ex-boyfriend be my boss? No thanks.
Out loud, I said, “You know that’s not a good idea.”
“Because we can’t be friends?”
“Because…” I looked at him carefully.
I’d been avoiding him since we broke up almost a year ago. Somehow, avoiding him hadn’t been as easy as I’d thought it would be; I’d run into him at random places and pretend not to see him. Twice, he’d called me and left a voicemail asking how I was—voicemail that I’d never returned.
I’d always found Jack so attractive, even after we broke up. As the owner of a casino—among other businesses—Jack was seriously out of my league, a fact
that he refused to acknowledge.
That last bit was part of the reason I’d had to end things with him. Even though my job didn’t bother him, it irked me that I would never fit in with his ritzy lifestyle. The gala dinners and backstabbing socialites were not my sort of crowd, and I knew his friends would always see me as a status-climbing gold-digger.
Of course, the main reason I’d broken up with Jack was because Stone had kissed me—and I’d thought the two of us might have a shot at something together. I could never be with two men at once, so I’d ended things with Jack. Soon after that, Stone had to go underground.
“Are you still mad about Stone?” Jack asked. “You know I was only trying to protect you.”
And that was the other thing.
“You went to DC and got your contacts to look into Stone’s files—you gave him away. He got into unspeakable amounts of trouble because of you.”
Jack’s green eyes grew serious. “He got into trouble because he was living a lie.”
“Because the CIA messed up!”
Jack tilted his head and looked away, exasperated. “They didn’t mess up. It was a misunderstanding. And I hear from my contacts that it’s all been sorted now.” He turned back to me and smiled his charming smile. “You can’t seriously still be mad at me for that. I was trying to protect you.”
“So you’ve said already.”
I narrowed my eyes, glad that he was the one who’d brought it up. It didn’t feel unreasonable to hold his messing around as a grudge against him.
“Look,” said Jack. “I know you care about Stone, and I’m glad things are okay with him, but please be careful around him. He’s got a history, and you know history tends to catch up with you.”
I squelched the annoyance bubbling in the pit of my stomach. “Thanks for the warning.”
Jack looked at me and sighed. “Well, I know you don’t want to hear it, but it needed to be said. So I’ve said it. What was this business you wanted to talk about?”
“Right.” For a moment, I wondered why I called Jack instead of my contact in Tremonte’s security. Had I subconsciously wanted to see Jack again? Did I feel like we needed to talk about what he’d done? I shook my head, trying to clear out those thoughts. No. I called Jack because he was the person who’d know the most. Jack and I had nothing else to talk about. “Roger Briars. What do you know about him?”
Jack smiled and leaned forward. “Don’t tell me you’re looking into the murder? I don’t believe for a second Roger killed that guy!”
My lips parted in surprise. “Really?”
Now it was Jack’s turn to look surprised. “Of course! Isn’t that why you took the case? Because you don’t think Roger’s guilty, either?”
“No. I haven’t taken the case yet.”
“But you’re thinking about it. Who’s the client? Roger himself?”
I breathed in a deep, calming breath. I wanted to tell Jack that my clientele was none of his business, but his interest in my life was almost… endearing. “Yes,” I admitted. “But I need to do some background research before agreeing to work for him. I don’t want to work for a killer.”
Jack chuckled. “Your clients are always so much more interesting than mine.”
I smiled. He was always so nice about my work. “But they pay me a whole lot less!”
Jack’s eyes grew serious again, and he leaned forward suddenly. “I miss you, Tiff. I know we’ll never be a couple again, but we should be friends. I’ve never met anyone like you, ever. You’re so special—so real and intelligent and hard-working.”
His candor caught me off guard but I tried not to let my surprise show. “That’s because all the other women you meet are reality TV stars and Hollywood starlets,” I said lightly. “Don’t forget the occasional model.”
Jack smiled. “Not a one can hold a candle to you.”
I shrugged. “You just need to start dating real women. People with actual jobs and intelligence. But who am I to give you dating advice?”
Jack leaned back and regarded me thoughtfully. “Speaking of dating, are you still seeing that cop guy?”
“Detective Ryan? Yes.”
“Hmm.”
His eyes were thoughtful, and I wondered if Jack had heard about Ryan’s undercover mission. I didn’t want to go there, so I quickly said, “Roger Briars. What makes you think he’s innocent?”
Jack looked off into the distance, his features arranged into a perfect mask. He knew I didn’t want to talk about my love life, and he wouldn’t push it. “Roger wouldn’t kill someone and risk his career again. He certainly wouldn’t kill someone in a casino where there’s cameras all around.”
“Cameras. That was the thing all the news reports mentioned—that Roger wasn’t actually caught on any cameras other than the one in the kitchen. How’s that work?”
Jack fiddled with his expensive-looking watch, and I realized with a start that I was being a terrible hostess.
“Would you like something to drink?” I asked quickly. The man might be my ex, but that didn’t mean I needed to be rude. “Water, coffee, juice?”
“Juice sounds good.”
I peeked in the fridge. “Oops. Turns out, I’m fresh out of juice.” I’d actually known that when offering—but it had seemed more adult-like to be able to offer your guest more than just water and instant coffee. And I hadn’t expected Jack to actually pick the one beverage I didn’t have. “How about coffee?”
“Coffee.” Jack nodded his agreement, and I got up to make us both a mug of the terrible instant stuff.
“What do you know about the cameras?” I asked, as I stirred our coffees.
Jack took a deep breath. “This is all speculation. But Roger’s been living at the casino for thirty-five years now. He knows the ins and outs of the place. He knows where all the cameras are, and he knows how to hide from them.”
“Then how’d he get caught at all?”
“The kitchen where the body was found is new, and the cameras there are new. Used to be we never had cameras in the kitchens. Chefs were temperamental—used to have more clout. Some of the celebrity chefs still do, still call the shots. But this new kitchen didn’t come with a prima donna chef, and we installed the cameras. And a good thing, too.”
“Not for Roger Briars.”
“No,” Jack agreed, accepting the coffee I handed him.
“Seems like the casino’s the perfect place for Roger to commit his crimes.”
“Maybe.” Jack took a sip of his drink. “But nobody’s that stupid as to plan to do something illegal in a casino. Everyone knows the casinos are constantly redecorating, which means cameras move around all the time. Roger might be confident about knowing what’s were, but I wouldn’t think he’s stupid.”
“No,” I admitted. “Me neither.”
I didn’t know much about Roger, but a man who managed to salvage a destroyed career sounded pretty savvy to me.
We sipped our coffees wordlessly for a few long seconds. The silence was familiar and comfortable, and I wondered why I didn’t try to do the mature thing and be friends with Jack. After all, if I was trying to be more adult-like, wasn’t it adult-like to be friends with your ex? Especially one who had powerful contacts in Vegas, and who was always so nice and helpful.
“Tell me more about Roger,” I said finally. “What do you know about him?”
“Not all that much directly,” Jack said. “The entertainment manager was the one who handled him, and she’s been around for longer than me. We sort of inherited Roger.”
I wondered what the entertainment manager was like, whether she was pretty. She sounded to me like a slender, sophisticated blonde. “Did she like Roger?”
Jack tilted his head. “I suppose. Roger’s been a good performer for us. We pay him a decent amount and he gets that comped suite, but he still makes us a decent profit.”
“Despite his fall from grace?”
“Despite that,” Jack agreed. “When he started working for t
he Tremonte, he was a bigger star. We’d put him in a big auditorium. But his star never rose again. He’s been downgraded further and further, and for the last twenty-odd years, he’s been working out of the smaller La Vie en Rouge lounge bar.”
“And doing well, apparently?”
Jack nodded. “I’ve seen his act a few times. It’s a nice place—nice atmosphere. We should go sometime.”
I smiled. “Maybe. I might ask Ryan to take me.”
Jack shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like Ryan’s scene.”
His comment annoyed me a bit, since Jack didn’t know Ryan well at all. Just because Ryan was a cop, did that automatically mean he wouldn’t appreciate some soulful music?
But I didn’t say anything, and Jack went on. “Roger’s still got that vibe. He’s a great performer. Good voice, good stage presence. Really brings it, you know—no phoning it in. You can sense he’s really feeling it, really putting his soul into his songs. Or maybe that’s just his act. Either way, it’s a good act!”
So Nanna was right. “He really is a good performer?”
“Oh, absolutely. You’d think, with the way his career went bust, he’d have given up. But nope, this is a guy who really loves his music. He puts himself all out there.”
Jack was silent for a moment, turning the coffee mug round and round in his hands. “After his fiancé went missing, so many people turned on him. I wasn’t old enough to know the whole story back then, but I do know he became the butt of a lot of jokes. Every now and then, people still laugh about him. But he doesn’t seem to let that bother him. He’s a good performer, and he could’ve been a great one.”
“If only he hadn’t killed his fiancé.”
Jack looked at me in surprise. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“Do you?”
“No,” said Jack. “I don’t. The guy’s lost a whole career because of what happened. He would’ve been a superstar if his fiancé was still around. Doesn’t make sense to kill someone just to lose so much.”
Lounge Singers And Liars In Las Vegas Page 4
