To Vegas with love

by J. A. Cipriano

  “But you can’t be certain.” Missy frowned. “You paid three million dollars to some shady guy somewhere for a bad cell phone pic. It could totally be fake, and then we’ll all look stupid.”

  “Do you think it’s real?” I asked as she started to look away.

  “I don’t know, Roger.” She shook her head. “I just don’t.”

  “Yes, you do.” I cocked my head to the side. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

  “Look …”

  “Missy, what is it?” I fought the urge to just make her tell me. Partially because it was getting too easy to want to do that to people, but mostly because I wanted to know if she’d tell me. After all, she couldn’t lie to me.

  “It’s not the first time I’ve seen pictures like that.” She gave me a weak little flail in the direction of my phone. “But they always turn out to be fake.”

  “They do? Or do people just decide they are fake?” I growled. I knew the picture was real. The pen would have deleted it if it wasn’t, but the line I’d written, The picture is fake, had evaporated almost instantly.

  “Roger, that’s the same thing. If the experts all agree …” She trailed off as I got even angrier.

  “How many of these do you have?” I resisted the urge to shake the reporter. “And who are the experts you talked to?”

  “Um, about a dozen have popped up over the years?” She sighed. “But they’ve all been fake. I’ve verified with three separate experts, and Dr. Mannik of the Maxonian is beyond reproach and considered the leader in the field.”

  “Or he’s been paid off.” I crossed my arms over my chest and thought long and hard about what to do next. Then I made a decision. More was better.

  “He hasn’t been, Roger.” She shook her head. “You can trust me on that because I thought the same thing. If he’s been paid off, it’s been really well hidden.”

  “Missy, go get the other photos, please. I want to see them.” I stared at the reporter who fidgeted uncomfortably.

  “Part of me wants to tell you I don’t have them, but I do. We’d have to go to my safety deposit box though, and the bank is closed.” She moved toward me again and reached out like she wanted to drag me away. “Come on, we can look at them in the morning.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Let’s go get them now.” I moved toward the limo, but Missy wasn’t following me.

  “Roger, I think maybe this is where I get off the crazy train.” She looked at her shoes. “You’re not being rational. They’re fake pics. They’ve been verified as fake three times by leading experts.”

  “Who is your closest expert?” I didn’t even look back as I got to the limo and Brant moved to open the door for me. “That you showed a picture?”

  “I’m not sure why that matters,” she said as I turned, one hand on the car and looked at her.

  “What if I can prove they aren’t fake? What then?” I nodded to her. “That would mean this is even worse than you thought, right? It would mean there’s a conspiracy to keep this douchebag safe, and that’s almost worse because these assholes know what kind of monster he is.”

  “And if you’re right, I suck at my job.” She didn’t look at me. “And I’m good at my job.”

  “I believe you, and if you want to stay here and take the blue pill, well, have fun with that.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But if you want to know how far this rabbit hole goes, well, get in the car.”

  “What if I’m right, and they are fake?” she asked, moving toward me tentatively. “Will you stop this?”

  “Sure,” I said with a shrug. “But it’s not fake, and I think deep down you know that. Otherwise you wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to take this guy down.” I held out my hand to her. “Come on.”

  “This is true.” She was still standing there, and I sighed.

  “Look, I’m getting in the car now. You can come or not. Hopefully, there’s a person closer than Mannik, but if not, there will be a chartered plane to take me to the Maxonian in my near future. You can come in or not.” I got into the limo. “But either way, I’m taking this guy down by tomorrow even if I have to buy every newspaper and television station in the country tonight.”

  “You know what? Fuck it. There’s a closer person than Mannik.” Missy moved to the car with several quick steps. “Head to the college district. My first expert was a source there. He’s the one who referred me to Mannik.”

  24

  When we pulled up in front of Professor Franklin’s place, I’d expected it to be nice, but not quite this nice. For one, it was in a gated community within the gated community, and just from my cursory knowledge of Vegas real estate, I was guessing the house was somewhere in the five-million-dollar range. Now, call me crazy, but that seemed like a really expensive place for a college professor, even if he was the leading expert on photo manipulation for the state.

  “That doesn’t seem extreme to you?” I gestured at what I could see of the place since it was mostly hidden behind a cinderblock wall and wrought-iron gate. “Like, how much could this guy possibly charge to be this rich?”

  “I’d heard he came into some money with Bitcoin, but I never expected …” Missy swallowed. “Like, he was one of those guys that bought a couple grand worth when they first came out and sold them recently, but …” She shook her head. “When I interviewed him five years back, he lived in a double-wide.”

  “Or, maybe, the Bitcoin thing is a farce, and he took a nice payday from McMahon.” I looked over at Missy and raised an eyebrow at her. “Which seems more logical?”

  “The Bitcoin.” She bit her lip, looking unsure as I smirked. She knew I was right and didn’t want to admit it. That was fine though, because I’d know either way soon enough.

  “Sure, sure.” I fought the urge to pat her on the head because that would be condescending as fuck. “How about we ring the doorbell and pay the professor a visit?”

  Without waiting for a response, I moved forward and hit the buzzer beside the gate. When there was no immediate answer, I just leaned on it for about thirty seconds.

  “Please stop,” hissed the voice on the other end of the speaker box. “And then see yourselves out. The Professor isn’t seeing anyone tonight.”

  “Let me in.” The command pinged in my ears as the doors began to open. I glanced over at Missy who looked at me with a mixture of astonishment and curiosity. “And here I thought I’d have to say open sesame.”

  “How did you get them to open it so easily? You didn’t even say who you were or anything,” Missy asked as I strode through the gate like I owned the place. As I moved, security lights came on, illuminating the full expanse of the mansion’s courtyard.

  “Man, the fountain has a fountain,” I said, ignoring her question as I stared at the fountain to the left of the cobblestone walkway. It was a massive structure of Greco-Roman design with a statue of David in the center. It looked pretty similar to Michelangelo’s own, only with one noticeable change. Instead of a strap in his upper hand, it was open, and water shot forth from his palm to rain down into the fountain where a variety of bare-breasted stone mermaids lounged.

  “There are a whole lot of psychological issues with that whole design,” Missy said, peering at it for a moment. “With all the statues, actually.”

  She was right. The other statues pock-marking the lawn were of similar design where they had ancient looking statues of noblemen, heroes, and everything in between being swarmed by half-naked women.

  “I dunno, I think that one of Abraham Lincoln sitting on a throne surrounded by hot female vampires is pretty tasteful.” I smirked. “He was quite the vampire slayer, after all.”

  “Right.” Missy rolled her eyes before hugging herself and taking a step closer to me. “This place gives me the creeps, and I’ve been in the jungles of the Congo and the dunes of Afghanistan.”

  “This is just some idiot.” I moved toward the door, a massive oak structure with what looked like Adam’s fall from gr
ace after eating the apple carved into it. Admittedly, I’d never expected Lucifer to be a large-breasted succubus, but there we were.

  The door opened before I could knock, and I found myself staring at a well-dressed black man. He eyed us carefully like he couldn’t quite figure out how we’d gotten here.

  “Sir, as I said at the gate, Professor Franklin isn’t seeing anyone at the moment.” He moved like he was going to close the door, but I shoved my foot in the way.

  “Take us to him now.” The words caused the butler to stop mid-close and instead open the door wide.

  “Certainly, sir, right this way.” He led us inside without another word, and I found myself looking at a house decorated in both an expensive and lecherous way. All around us were nude reliefs of women with so much detail they made me want to blush. Especially the piece in the center of the entrance to the massive circular staircase.

  “I guess the devil really did go down in Georgia,” Missy commented as we moved past the fiddler who was evidently claiming his prize for victory in a very real way.

  “It would seem so. Maybe I should learn to fiddle.” I smirked. “Because I’m betting Lucifer is really good at that.”

  “Professor Franklin was given that as a gift after a sizeable donation to the Arts program at the university,” the butler said, like that could possibly explain the very explicit statue.

  “Look, you don’t have to justify it to me,” I said, glancing around the room. “Guy has a penchant for high-end porn, erm, art.” I coughed into my hand. “It’s cool. Everyone likes naked chicks.”

  “Is that so?” Missy asked me, giving me a once-over. “Because I find myself much more interested in men, personally.”

  “You would say that,” I snorted. “But trust me, my friend Miss Montgomery could turn the straightest woman in the world into a lesbian.”

  “I very much doubt that.” Missy flushed and looked away as we finished ascending the stairs and were led down a hallway filled with pictures of, I shit you not, foxgirls. Not pictures of ones either, but full-blown, life-like silicone statues of foxgirls. To my left was a very well-endowed red-haired nurse and to my right was what could only be explained as a cross between a fox and Lara Croft.

  “Is that from something?” I asked, gesturing at the Lara Croft doll. “Because it seems like it would be.”

  “Nothing you’ve heard of, sir.” The butler continued on as I made a mental note to look anyway because that seemed really fucking cool.

  A few moments later we were standing before a door through which I could hear a lot of moaning. And not the “in pain” kind. No, this was a distinctly pleasure-filled moaning.

  “As you can tell—”

  I cut off the butler’s words by kicking the door in, shattering the jamb and sending splinters of wood flying inward across the plush red carpet. My movement caused the six women in the bed to turn and look in my direction, though only two bothered to cover themselves. Professor Franklin, or who I suspected was Professor Franklin was tied up to the bed with a ball gag in his mouth while the girls looked to be pleasuring themselves all around him.

  “Personally, I wouldn’t want to be tied up,” I said, striding in like I owned the place as silence descended. Then the girls started shrieking. “Be silent.” It was like the girls forgot how to make noise because all at once they just stopped and stared at me wide-eyed. “I’m not going to hurt any of you or anything.” I looked away. “Get dressed and leave.” I glanced over my shoulder at the butler. “You leave too, and see they are paid if they are supposed to be paid.”

  They all obeyed my commands, and a few moments later we were all alone with the professor. Giving exactly zero fucks, I flopped down on the bed beside him while Missy stood in the doorway, so flushed with embarrassment, I almost felt bad for her.

  “So, here’s how it’s going to work, professor.” I pulled the ball gag out of his mouth and let it hang from his neck. “You’re going to answer my questions truthfully.”

  He nodded in response which was about all he could have done even if I hadn’t been using my pen.

  “Miss Moppet showed you some pictures of one Chet McMahon with a kid.” His eyes flashed with recognition even before I flashed the cell phone picture in his face. “Ones like these. Do you remember them?”

  “Yes.” His voice was perfectly calm as he spoke, but his eyes were wide like he couldn’t believe he was talking toward me. Good. That meant he did have something to hide.

  “Great. So, in your expert opinion, were those pictures real?” I watched him carefully, and to his credit, he squirmed for a good thirty seconds like he was trying to figure out a way to weasel out of my question.

  “I can’t say for certain …” He trailed off and I sighed and rubbed my face.

  “Answer the question.” He squirmed again as the command dinged in my ears.

  “Yes, they were real.” Missy’s face went through a whole gamut of emotions as she heard the news, and it was like watching someone go through the stages of grief in fast forward.

  “What do you mean they were real?” she snarled, leaping across the room like a madwoman and grabbing Franklin by the shoulders and shaking him roughly. “You swore they were fake. How could you lie to me?”

  “I didn’t have a choice.” He looked anywhere but at us. “One of McMahon’s men came to me after you’d delivered the picture to me for evaluation. I had two choices. Lose everything or become a millionaire.” He nodded around the room. “It was an easy choice for me.”

  As Missy reared back like she was going to pummel him into oblivion, I put my hand on her shoulder. “Wait.”

  “I … he … those kids.” She turned and looked at me, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “I could have done something.”

  “And now we will.” I pulled her into a hug. “I promise.”

  “It’s not enough,” she whimpered, and while I knew she was right, I also knew this wasn’t the end because things were about to get really bad for Mr. McMahon. Really, really bad.

  “Yeah, but we’ll do what we can with what we have,” I said when she finally pulled away. Then I turned my gaze to Franklin. “Come on, you’re going to be on the ten o’ clock news.”

  “I can’t do that. He will ruin me.” He swallowed hard and shook his head.

  “Yeah, it’s funny because you thought I was asking.” I leaned in until I was eye to eye with the sallow old man. “You’re going to come clean about everything.” He nodded at my command, but I was already moving to untie him. “Get dressed. Wear something professional.”

  As he went to comply, I turned to Missy. “Who was your third source?”

  “Third source?” She bit her lip, still too upset to quite process what I’d said. “Oh, you mean besides Mannik?” She thought for a moment. “Davis Jeffers. He’s an expert up in New York.”

  “Great.” I was already dialing Skye. “Make sure he meets us in the limo, okay?” When Missy nodded, I turned to Franklin. “Don’t give Miss Moppet any trouble.”

  With the ping still ringing in my ears, I made my way back to the car as Skye picked up.

  “Hey, Skye, I’ve got good news and bad news.”

  “Roger, hey …” She sounded tired. “What’s the trouble?”

  “There’s a lot more pictures than the one. Missy Moppet has a bunch more, and what’s more, they were confirmed fake by Mannik at the Maxonian, and a guy named Davis Jeffers in New York. I would like to speak with them.”

  “Well, now I feel dumb because I haven’t found either of those things.” She sighed loudly.

  “Hey, don’t feel bad, you got the ball rolling.” I smiled, already thinking through my game plan. “Get me on the phone with both of them because they’re about to come clean on national television. Also, I need to get into Miss Moppet’s safety deposit box in the next half hour or so.”

  “When you say get in, do you mean illegally?” Skye asked, and I could hear her shuffling about on the other side.
>
  “No, she’ll be with me. I just need someone to let us in.”

  “Oh. That will be easy. Just head over, I’ll take care of both things.” With that, we said our goodbyes, and she hung up.

  I smiled and rubbed my hands together. What Chet had done was inexcusable, and now, the bastard was going to pay for it.

  25

  It was a bit comical how easily everything came together after that. I mean, okay, I used my magic pen to make the bank manager open the bank for us, and to get those two jackass professors to send over signed statements alleging the pictures were real. But even still, I hadn’t expected to be standing in front of the local news station with everything I needed to bury Chet McMahon in my grubby little hands less than an hour later.

  “Shit is about to get awesome,” I said, glancing at Missy and Franklin as I marched up the stairs to the rather normal looking office building like I owned the place, which was sort of ironic because I kind of did own it. Well, Modi owned a controlling stake in it, anyway. Maybe I’d have to change things in the future. You know, put a giant golden planet on top or something. News with pizzazz or something.

  “I wish I’d known you when I was in Brazil,” Missy said, following along close enough behind me to practically be my shadow. “I don’t know how you get people to just do what you say, even when it’s one hundred percent against their interest.”

  “I have one of those faces.” I shrugged as I approached the glass double doors leading to the lobby. “Here is where you’re going to have to take over though, Missy. How do we make this happen?”

  “It should be easy.” Missy was practically bursting with a combination of happiness, anger, and determination. I knew she still felt bad about letting Chet get away with his proclivities all these years, but this was her chance to make things better.

  “I’m all for easy,” I replied, holding the door for her so she could enter. Franklin slipped by, trying to be as unassuming as possible. Sure, I could have made his guilt go away instead of magnifying it a hundredfold but fuck him. “So, lay it on me, kemosabe.”