I groaned at all the melodrama, but then the report switched to a short video of Roger’s show at the lounge. The room was packed, and the report went on to talk about how Roger’s popularity was now increasing, as people grew curious about the alleged killer.
“Will we ever know the truth?” asked the female reporter in an annoyingly somber voice. “Will Roger get away with another murder? Or is he being framed this time, by someone with a darker motive?”
The video of Roger singing in the lounge faded away, and a commercial began.
I switched off the TV, wondering if the annoying reporter was asking the right question. Was Roger being framed for Harvey’s murder?
If so, he was an integral part of the investigation.
Assuming Roger was telling the truth, someone else had put a dead body in his bedroom, knowing he’d be away most of the evening performing his set. Where did Anastacia fit into the picture, if at all?
And more importantly, who could hate Roger enough to frame him for murder?
The image of Nadia Tumal protesting her sister’s disappearance flashed through my mind.
Nanna had said something about her being a bit of a protest-happy hippy, and Nadia clearly still believed Roger was responsible for Alicia’s death. She was in Las Vegas at the moment—could she have arranged all this to get justice for her sister? Was she connected to Harvey Gaudet somehow?
I flicked through the search engines, looking for more information on Nadia Tumal. There wasn’t much, other than the news about her blaming Roger for Alicia’s death, and now blaming Roger for Harvey’s death. She was, however, camped out in front of the Tremonte, where she’d organized protests.
Some further Googling revealed that she was living out of a trailer parked at a popular RV lot just off the Strip. It was close enough to the Tremonte that she could get there after a quick walk.
I assumed Nadia had brought along a group of people who also staunchly believed in Roger’s death, or they simply enjoyed protesting alongside her. The news reports indicated that she was a charismatic woman, and I imagined she’d have a group of cronies who’d do anything for her.
I made a note to speak to Nadia Tumal as soon as I could. If nothing else, she could tell me more about Roger and his history with Alicia.
My internet research done, I placed a call to the number I’d found in my PI database for Gregory Tullius. It went straight to voicemail, and I left a message requesting that he return my call.
An hour later, Gregory called me back. He sounded grumpy and busy over the phone, so I explained that I was a PI, so could I please have a word with him? He was about to hang up—until I quickly added that I was looking into Harvey Gaudet’s death.
That gave him pause, and after a few seconds of silence, he invited me to come over to a small event center in Summerlin, early that afternoon.
I hung up happily, immediately texting Stone the time and address for meeting Gregory.
Chapter 18
Stone picked me up from my apartment, and I asked him to do a detour through Gladys’s neighborhood. He didn’t ask why, and as we passed a bodega a few blocks from Gladys’s house, I spotted her!
“Pull over,” I hissed excitedly, and once Stone had parked, I jumped out and began running toward Gladys.
“Gladys!” I yelled.
The old woman turned around and saw me running like a crazy person, and she whirled around and took off.
“Wait!” I yelled. “I just want to talk to you!”
Completely passing by the strip of small shops, we entered another residential street. Out of the corner of my eye, I was conscious of Stone’s Porsche following a few yards behind us at a crawl.
Gladys rounded a bend suddenly, and I found myself tripping over a big plastic trash bin that came tumbling toward me.
Grumbling loudly, I righted myself and looked toward where I’d last seen Gladys.
She was gone.
I groaned. Not again!
Stone pulled up beside me. “You’ve, uh, got a chocolate wrapper stuck to your shorts.”
“Ew.”
I plucked it off and tried to think positively. At least it wasn’t a bowl of stale day-old spaghetti. The nerve of that old woman, throwing trash cans at me!
Muttering under my breath and annoyed at myself for spooking her again, I headed back to the car and slid into the passenger seat again. “I hate this job,” I muttered. “I think I like murders better!”
“Who was she?”
“You know, Gladys—the old woman I was meant to get in touch with, to tell her to call her daughter.”
“Huh.” Stone hit the accelerator, and we took off toward our meeting with Gregory. “I don’t know who that old woman is,” he said, “but she really doesn’t want to talk to you.”
The event center turned out to be a riot of workers running helter-skelter, setting things up for a sweet sixteen birthday party.
“Wow,” I breathed. “This is amazing.”
The place was set up with balloons, streamers, and flowers, all in a white-and-turquoise color scheme. An ice sculpture of the Eiffel Tower was being unloaded from a van, and I noticed women clad in black-and-white uniforms setting up small towers of white and turquoise macarons. A band was setting up in one corner, and two women were drawing a Parisian café scene on a large blackboard.
I spotted Greg Tullius standing in the middle of it all, directing people and approving checklists. As we walked toward him, his phone rang, and he scowled and barked into it for a moment before hanging up and turning to us.
We introduced ourselves, and Greg excused himself to yell at a young man walking past with a bunch of helium balloons. “Not there! Keep the dance floor empty!”
He turned to us again. “I oughta get paid for event planning. My daughter said she’d do most of it, but she’s not here, is she? Well, it is her party, I suppose. I’m bringing in a last-minute event woman, but it’s another hour ‘til she gets here.”
“I’m sure the party will be amazing,” I said excitedly. “It looks beautiful!”
Greg looked at me dubiously. “You think?”
I nodded. “I’m confident.”
We heard the sound of a car door slamming outside in the parking lot, and a teenaged girl wearing designer sneakers, shorts, and a tank top walked in. Greg brightened up immediately.
“Daddy!” the girl said. “Mom’s driving me to the store. Is it okay if I pick up an extra gift for myself?”
Greg’s eyes twinkled. “What do ya have in mind?”
“Well… you know how the party’s got a Paris theme? Mom says I can get that diamond locket I wanted.”
“What’s all that got to do with Paris?” Greg asked, his tone clearly teasing.
His daughter rolled her eyes. “You know—it’s all the rage in Paris to wear one like that nowadays.”
“I’m sure it is, sweetie.” Greg smiled and bent down to drop a kiss on his daughter’s forehead. “Get one that’s trendy as—” his brows wrinkled in confusion “—what do they say these days? All out?”
“Sure,” said his daughter. “Trendy as all out. I’ll get one just like that.”
She leaned up on tiptoe, gave her dad a kiss on the cheek, and rushed out as quickly as she’d come in. I wondered if she even noticed the amazing Paris-themed décor that was coming to life before us.
After she left, Greg seemed to be a mellower man.
“Let’s talk,” he said, indicating a stack of chairs that were grouped together in a corner.
It was out of earshot of the workers scurrying around, and as we sat, I explained that I was looking into Harvey Gaudet’s death. I didn’t say anything about Roger, but I did ask how long Greg had been using Harvey’s store.
“On and off for a few years now,” he said.
“And he stole from you,” I said. It wasn’t quite a question.
Greg eyed me warily. “Yes,” he said finally. “I’ve got no reason to hide that. I found out a month ag
o that he’d been swapping out my furs, and I had a word with him.”
“Seems like you had a very angry word with him.”
Greg chuckled. “Yeah, I did get mad. Guess I got a temper on me. But Harvey explained things, and I… I forgave him.”
“Really?”
He rubbed his forehead. “Well… wasn’t nothing I could do about it. But Harvey said it wasn’t really him that done it. He had this employee there who’d been lying and stealing.”
My jaw dropped. “Pete?”
I looked at Stone, who shook his head very slightly. I knew what that meant.
It was definitely Harvey who’d been the one stealing.
Greg’s lips tightened, and his eyes narrowed slightly, as though he’d told me too much. “Was that his name?” he said carefully.
Suddenly, I realized why Greg was being so wary. My eyes widened. “You beat up Pete! You put him in the hospital!”
Greg’s nostrils flared wide, and he stood up. “How dare you accuse me of things like that! What’s Pete been telling you?”
Stone and I stood up, watching as Greg got angrier and angrier.
“Tell me right now,” he demanded. “What’s Pete been saying? It’s all lies, I’m telling ya! You can’t prove anything. And if you say anything—if Pete says anything—I’ve got a team of lawyers sitting around waiting for something to do. They’ll sue you all for defamation!”
I tried to get a word in edgewise, but Greg was on a rant that wouldn’t stop.
“I’m an honest businessman now! I won’t have anyone saying otherwise!”
“I’m sure you’re an honest businessman,” I said mildly. “But maybe you still beat up Pete.”
Greg narrowed his eyes at me.
“Get out!” he yelled, pointing at the door. A few of the workers stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at us. “Out! Now! We’re done talking!”
“I’m sorry,” I said, wondering if I’d pushed him too far. “I just wanted to know more about Harvey’s death. I don’t need to know about Pete.”
I decided to leave before Greg got any angrier. Maybe if he calmed down, I could come back in a few days to talk to him again.
I looked at Stone, and we both turned and headed toward the door.
When we were almost there, Greg rushed up to us.
“Wait,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll tell you guys one thing. Pete. I’m telling you, if anyone’s got a reason to want Harvey dead, it’s that kid. Go talk to him.”
Greg headed off again, leaving me staring after him.
“Guess I’m talking to Pete again,” I murmured softly, as Stone and I got back into his car.
Chapter 19
“Where do we find Pete?” Stone asked, as we sat in his car, watching another van, presumably containing more party supplies, arriving at the event center.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “We were lucky to have run into him in the first place.”
I told Stone all about how Nanna had noticed Pete watching the dry cleaners. How I’d approached the car, and noticed all kinds of clothes as well as construction tools, stuffed in the car. How Pete had driven off, but we’d run into him at Roger’s show, and then again at Anastacia’s show, and I’d finally gotten hold of him afterward.
“So he’s got no known address and no phone number,” Stone said.
I groaned. “I bet he’s got a phone! I should’ve grabbed his number.”
“You had no way of knowing he was connected to the murder for sure,” Stone said.
I was still feeling pretty stupid. “We kept running into him. I should’ve known it wasn’t a coincidence!”
“You had no way of guessing that.”
“Well… anyway. Now we’re stuck. Where could he be?” A thought struck me. “He said he was going to ask Joan for his old job back! Maybe he’s back, working at the dry cleaners, or maybe he’s still watching it. Let’s go ask Joan.”
The two of us headed over to the dry cleaners, but there was no white sedan parked outside.
When we walked inside, we found Joan at the counter by herself. She didn’t look all that pleased to see me, and she gave Stone a curious glance.
“I’m back,” I announced, stating the obvious. “I was wondering if you’d seen Pete?”
She wrinkled her brow. “Pete?”
“Yeah. Used to work here. Quit about a month ago.”
“Oh, that Pete.”
She said it in a dismissive tone, so I asked, “He hasn’t been back in here?”
“No, why would he? He quit.”
I looked at Stone, but he was leaning against the counter, watching Joan impassively. His face was as unreadable as any poker player’s.
“We saw Pete yesterday. He was sitting in his car watching the store.”
Joan blinked and straightened up. “What?”
I nodded. “Yep. Just sitting there, watching the store. He was there for ages.”
“No.” Joan’s eyes were wide and her voice slightly breathless. “That can’t be.”
“Why not?”
Her eyes were still wide, and she shook her head. “Last I heard, he was in the hospital. That’s why he quit, because he got too sick to work.”
“Well, he got better. Now he’s out and looking for work.”
“He is?” Her eyes were still wide with surprise, as though she never expected to hear this news.
“Yep. And he said he’s thinking of asking for his old job back.”
Joan let out a small gasp. “Is he really? I can’t believe that. I can’t believe he’s out of the hospital already. So soon!”
“Do you have his phone number? I need to get in touch with him.”
Joan looked at me suspiciously. “Why?”
“About the death.”
Joan shook her head. “I don’t have his number.”
“Well, could you call me if you see him around?”
She shook her head again. “No. You leave that poor boy alone—he’s been through enough. He doesn’t need people like you harassing him.”
“What’s he been through?” I asked.
Joan raised her fingers to her lips, and eyed me warily. “Nothing—I mean—I just—”
She broke off and continued to stare at me.
“I spoke to Gregory Tullius,” I said softly.
“Oh!” she dropped her hand and stared at the counter. “Well, in that case…”
She was silent for a few more seconds, so I said, “You can tell me. I’ll keep it to myself. I won’t tell the cops.”
“Well. Gregory—he was the guy who got Pete beat up and put in the hospital for months. The doctors said Pete should’ve died. It was a miracle he lived. The poor, poor boy.”
“Why’d Gregory do it?”
Joan looked up at me, her eyes wild. “How should I know?”
“I think you know,” I said gently. “Was your husband doing something illegal?”
“How dare you!” Joan narrowed her eyes at me and pressed her lips together before speaking again. “My husband was a saint! Harvey always did the right thing—he did what he could to provide for us.”
“I have proof,” I bluffed. “Proof that Harvey was swindling customers.”
The anger drained out of Joan’s eyes and her shoulders sagged. “Oh. Well.”
Her eyes welled with tears, and she wiped them away, sniffing a few times before talking again. “Gregory, he was a scary man. Harvey shouldn’t have done that.”
“I know Gregory was angry at Harvey. I know Harvey said Pete was stealing the furs.”
Joan wiped away a few more tears, and bobbed her head up and down. “Yes. My poor Harvey. I mean, he did what he had to. When Greg got angry, Harvey got scared and pointed his finger at the first person he saw. Poor Pete. He didn’t deserve what happened. But—is he really watching the store?”
I nodded. “Yes, we saw him just yesterday. I think he’s been watching for longer than that.”
Joan shook her head. �
��I just—I think something happened to him after the attack. I think maybe he found out about Harvey blaming him and getting him in trouble with Gregory. I—I hate to think this. He was just such a nice young boy, so I didn’t even tell the police. I thought he was still in hospital. That there was no way he could have anything to do with Harvey. When did he get out of the hospital?”
“He said it’s been a bit over two weeks.”
“That’s before Harvey died! What if he figured out it was Harvey who blamed him? What if he killed Harvey?” She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of emotions. “What if he—what if he’s a killer? I didn’t say anything to the police, but maybe I should. Do you think I should?”
Joan seemed to be entering a vicious spiral of despair and fear, and perhaps I was catching a bit of it. Joan was entitled to her spiraling feelings, given that she’d just lost her husband. But me? I needed to stay professional.
I took a deep breath and tried to think about the logical next steps. If Pete had killed Harvey—and it seemed more and more likely that he had—he needed to be apprehended before it was too late.
“I think you should tell the police,” I said. “They should probably have a word with him.”
I glanced at Stone. His features were impassive. But by now, I knew him well enough to understand that the slight crease of his forehead indicated that he, too, was concerned.
I looked back at Joan. “If you see him around, give me a call. I’ll come straight over.”
“He could be a killer,” she said, sounding aghast. “I never thought I’d say this. I didn’t know he was out of the hospital yet. But maybe he killed Harvey.”
I ran through a mental checklist.
Pete had motive to kill Harvey. He had opportunity. He probably had means.
I remembered the construction tools I’d seen in the back of his car, including that ball peen hammer. A tool like that could cause some serious damage to a person.
Pete could’ve hit Harvey in the back of his head. He could’ve caused the head trauma revealed by the autopsy. Pete could’ve knocked Harvey unconscious, and stuffed him in a tub of ice, killing him.
Lounge Singers And Liars In Las Vegas Page 10
