Wanna Get Lucky?

by Deborah Coonts

  “What?”

  I motioned to the couch. “Let’s sit. I’ve got a story to tell you.”

  So we sat there, shoulder to shoulder, surrounded by the best things life had to offer, looking out at a world of light and fun and promise, while I told The Big Boss about Willie the Weasel, Felicia Reilly and the Most Reverend Peterson J. Peabody.

  The Big Boss sat stock-still, his eyes narrowing to slits as he listened to my tale. “How is that related to me?” he asked when I had finished.

  “I don’t really know, but perhaps Reverend Peabody was a test run, so to speak. Then the opportunity to reel in a big fish presented itself.”

  “That would be me.”

  “Can you think of a bigger fish? But, I just can’t shake the feeling there’s something I’m missing here.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Willie the Weasel’s a sneaky little creep, with about as much backbone as an earthworm. Blackmail fits, but I can’t see him picking you as a viable target. Just the thought of you scared the pee out of him.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “There must be somebody else.”

  “The woman?”

  “Possibly.” I stared out the window at the lights of the Strip. They shouted fun and excitement—until you scratched the surface and exposed the dark underbelly of the city. “You’re not going to the police with this, are you?”

  He shook his head. “I take care of my own problems.”

  Testosterone, the antidote to good sense. “If I’m going to help, I need to know everything. You need to come clean. What the hell happened?”

  “Lyda Sue was a good kid. I was just trying to help her.” He rose, pointed at my glass. At the shake of my head, he moved to the bar to replenish his drink. “She had a shot at a legitimate job.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Management at one of the big hotels. Strictly entry level, but a foot in the door. Sorta like where you started.”

  “The big hotels aren’t too big on hiring ex-hookers.”

  “Like I said, I was helping her.”

  He didn’t have to spell it out. Helping her meant a new background, something respectable. The Big Boss held a lot of markers. I guess he’d called in a few. “How’d you meet Lyda Sue?”

  “Through a friend.”

  “Anybody who could have a connection here?”

  “No, they were from out of town.”

  “Think hard here, Boss. Do you think Lyda Sue was part of the blackmail?”

  “Why would she do that? She had life by the tail.”

  “Maybe she was being blackmailed herself?”

  The Big Boss’s face darkened, his voice had a dangerous edge. “I thought of that.”

  “Secrets to hide, perfect bait for a couple of two-bit blackmailers.”

  Anger flared in his eyes. “All she did was invite me on a helicopter ride.”

  “I’ll bet she didn’t know she was inviting you to her murder.” Now for the hard question. “So how the hell did she go out that door?

  The Big Boss ran a shaking hand over his eyes. “I don’t know. She’d moved over next to me. That other woman wanted to take our picture. Then the helicopter rocked—violently and . . . she was gone.”

  Poor Lyda Sue. She’d gotten herself in the middle of something big—and she’d landed in the pirate’s lagoon for her trouble.

  “A bullet to the head would be too good for those two,” The Big Boss announced.

  I had to agree with him—a bullet to the head would be good, but only after prolonged torture.

  “Boss, let me find them. The police will take it from there. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

  He looked me right in the eye. “I promise,” he said. We both knew he was lying through his teeth.

  STEPPING into the elevator, I flipped open my phone and called the office. After the fifth ring, I was about to hang up when Miss Patterson answered. She sounded out of breath.

  “The Beautiful Jeremy Whitlock doesn’t happen to be there, does he?”

  “If he was, I wouldn’t have picked up.”

  “Glad to see you’re prioritizing.” I rotated my head around. My neck muscles were so tight I felt two inches shorter. “Could you call him for me, please? I need to talk to him ASAP.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Thanks. Then go home. I’ve got a few people to track down, then I’m headed there myself.”

  “I was on my way, halfway down the hall, when I heard the phone ringing.”

  “Good. Get some sleep.”

  “You, too.”

  Not likely.

  JEREMY’S call caught me striding through the lobby. “Thanks for getting back to me so fast.” I dodged through the crowd toward the casino. I pressed the palm of my free hand over my other ear to block out the noise. I decided sticking my finger in my ear probably looked pretty silly. “Do you have anything yet?”

  “Pushy broad, aren’t you? It’s been like what, five hours?”

  “Pushy and demanding.” I stepped around an older man and woman who had stopped to gawk at the blown-glass ceiling. “Seriously, all joking aside, the ante has been upped. Can you put a couple of guys on this? I really need to find Willie and his sidekick—now.”

  “Haven’t had any hits on those two, but I did get one on the other guy.”

  “Dane?”

  “Yeah. He showed up at the Athena.”

  “The Athena? Interesting. What’d he do there?”

  “I caught him coming in the front door. He went right to the elevators. Haven’t found him on any of the floors yet. I’m going through the feeds now.”

  “Keep me posted. And put as many guys as you’ve got on this.”

  “Right-o.”

  THE crowd in the casino was starting to build, but the energy level still resembled that of a languid summer afternoon as it slipped toward dusk. The calm before the storm. The Beach Boys played through the speakers; the lights had yet to be dimmed for the evening. A couple of tables were full, but the play seemed apathetic. The cocktail waitresses looked bored—and cold. I knew how they felt. The casino was so cold they could hang meat in there. The crowds would warm it later, but for now it was almost uncomfortable—especially without much clothing.

  I rubbed my bare arms as I wandered through the rows of slot machines looking for Mr. Pascarelli. It was early yet, but I searched on the off chance he might be there. No luck.

  Stymied, I put my hands on my hips and wondered what to do next. I couldn’t think of a thing other than go look for those two idiots, Willie and Felicia, myself, which would be a waste of time. I’m sure the police had checked all the normal places, and I didn’t know either Willie or his friend well enough to know what abnormal places they frequented. Although with the little I did know about Willie, I’m sure there were many.

  With Mr. Pascarelli nowhere to be found, I didn’t know what to do. Go home or eat? My motto had always been “When in doubt, eat,” so I decided to follow my gut.

  Every hotel on the Strip has a buffet, some better than others. Ours was amazing. Located at the back of the building on the ground floor, looking out over our award-winning golf course, the buffet was a veritable feast fit for a king. Foods from every corner of the globe, desserts to die for, open twenty-four hours a day—my idea of heaven.

  My plate laden with more food than I had any intention of eating, I scanned the room looking for a table. Mrs. Paisley and her friends filled a four-top in the middle of the room. They waved. Hands full, I nodded back. A table for two near the window called my name. Casinos being what they are, glimpses of the outside world are few and far between. When the opportunity presented itself, I was unable to resist.

  I was sitting there, fork poised, trying to decide what to attack first when a voice interrupted. “May I join you?”

  I looked up into the twinkling eyes of Mr. Pascarelli. Somehow God had taken me off his shit list. “I would be honored.”

&nbs
p; “A beautiful lady such as yourself shouldn’t be eating alone,” the old smoothie said as he set his plate of spaghetti on the table.

  “Don’t be fooled by my mild-mannered exterior. I’ve been told I can be quite difficult.”

  “I like my women difficult. Challenges keep life interesting. If I were a few years younger, I’d give you a run for your money.”

  I smiled because I had no idea how to respond. “I’ve been looking for you.” Talk about redirecting the conversation. I rooted around in my pocket for the photos. Then I moved the salt and pepper shakers, the Cholula sauce, the soy sauce, and a tub of green gunk I couldn’t identify, clearing a space in the center of the table. I smoothed out the pictures. “Could you look at these? Tell me if you recognize anybody.”

  He took a bite of spaghetti, then moved his plate to the side, concentrating on the pictures.

  He was so cute with his brow furrowed in concentration. Nice guys like him shouldn’t be alone.

  “I’ve seen all of these folks around. This guy . . .” He pointed at Willie. “He’s the helicopter pilot, right?”

  Not taking his finger from the photo, he looked up.

  I nodded.

  “I’ve seen him talking to this gal,” he said, tapping Felicia’s photo. “I think they got a thing going. But this other guy—I’ve seen him talking to her, too.”

  “Really?” Dane sure seemed to get around. “Did you see them together more than once?”

  “Sure. And last time, their conversation looked heated.”

  “Heated, mad? Or heated, like . . . attraction?”

  “He was mad. Real mad.”

  I gathered the pictures and stuffed them in my pocket. Leaning back in my chair I surveyed Mr. Pascarelli. “Interesting.”

  He pulled his plate back in front of him and dove again into his pile of spaghetti, which was enough to feed a family of four. Something was wrong with the universe when skinny people could eat their weight in serious carbs and not gain an ounce. “Are you investigating Lyda Sue’s murder?” he asked through a mouthful, his eyes twinkling. “Need some help?”

  “Don’t get any ideas.” I grabbed a rib and dove in. “I’m leaving the investigating to the police. I was just curious, that’s all.”

  “You know what they say about curiosity.”

  “They say a lot of things, none of them good.”

  I parked my brain in neutral as we both set to work in earnest. I was segueing from the ribs to the California rolls when I caught sight of Mrs. Paisley and her friends rising to leave. “Excuse me just a second. I’ve got somebody you should meet.”

  I stood and waved like a maniac until I caught Mrs. Paisley’s eye, and motioned her over.

  With the manners of a previous generation, Mr. Pascarelli rose to greet the ladies as they surrounded the table.

  “Mr. Pascarelli, may I present Velma Paisley? You both share a love of playing the slots.”

  “Really?” Mrs. Paisley said as she shook Mr. Pascarelli’s hand. “Call me Velma.”

  “Velma, I’m Hank.” Mr. Pascarelli looked shy. “Would you like to join us?”

  I gathered up my plate. “Ladies, he’s all yours. I’m calling it a day.”

  The five of them made quite a crowd around the small table. As I walked away, they fell into easy conversation. Mr. Pascarelli looked like the proverbial cat with the canary.

  All’s well that ends well, I guess. What was it with me and proverbs today?

  Totally beat, and nothing pressing, I decided to check out early. I scrolled down the list of numbers on my Nextel, highlighted Jerry’s and pushed-to-talk. “Jer.”

  “Yo.”

  “I had three hours of sleep last night. I’m going home. Can you hold down the fort until the shift change?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll have my phone.”

  “And I know the drill. Call you only if there’s a national emergency.”

  “You got it. And thanks. I owe you.”

  IN desperate need of clean, fresh air to clear my thoughts, I opted to walk home. Backlit by the setting sun, the Spring Mountains stood in stark relief. The air, still laden with the heat of the day, settled around me with a welcomed warmth. One lone bird circled in the darkening sky above. It looked like a vulture.

  I needed rest. I needed to turn off my brain, take a good soaking bath, and crawl into bed—for the next week. However, rest would be impossible with Teddie waiting—and I’m sure he would be waiting. With the day still pinging around in my head, turning off my brain was probably not going to happen. And my next week had been bought and paid for by the Babylon. That left a bath.

  The short walk home seemed shorter than normal tonight. Forrest waved as I trudged thorough the foyer, but he didn’t stop me with his usual small talk. I guess I looked as bad as I felt.

  Silence greeted me as I stepped from the elevator. Newton wasn’t cursing at me. There were no sounds from the kitchen. After hanging my purse on the peg by the door, I went in search of life.

  Teddie was nowhere to be found. But he had been there. Newton’s cage sported its cover, and I found a note on the kitchen counter. It read, “Take a bath. I’m upstairs, come on up if you feel like it. Washed the bird’s mouth out with soap. He’s sulking.”

  Even when he wasn’t there, he could put a smile on my face. Oh, what a problem I had! The mere memory of Teddie’s kiss was enough to set my nerves afire again.

  I wandered into the bathroom, dropping clothes as I went. Turning the tap to the “scald” setting, I watched as the tub began to fill. Maybe I was making this out to be a bigger problem than it really was. I mean, what’s a little sex among friends?

  Testing the water with a big toe, I yelped and leapt back. Okay, “scald” was a bit aggressive. I added cold water. I thought about adding bubbles, but tonight didn’t feel like a bubble bath kind of night.

  When the temperature was just right, I slid into the water until only my head remained above the surface. I sighed. The water felt delicious. I punched the button and jets of water and air massaged my body. The strain of the day started to let go. God, this was better than sex—at least better than the sex I remembered.

  Who was I kidding? Sex among friends was a recipe for the double whammy—ruined friendships and bad sex.

  I had no idea what to do. I parked my brain—thankfully it remained parked.

  Something would come to me. It usually did.

  THE bath had been heaven, and now I was facing my own idea of hell.

  The elevator doors opened, and I stepped in for the short ride up one floor.

  Would he be mad? Hurt? Would we have bad sex? Then everything would be different between us.

  I didn’t want different, I wanted the same.

  But how could it be the same after that kiss? That kiss changed everything.

  The elevator doors opened and I was assaulted with the smell of fresh-baked oatmeal raisin cookies.

  “Mom’s been here. She made a tin for you, too.” Teddie stood in the middle of his kitchen holding a tin with a Christmas motif. It was open and I could see little spikes of wax paper sticking out.

  “Are those what I think they are? The ones with the coconut?”

  He nodded, stuffing his mouth full of cookie. Enticing me with the open tin of cookies, Teddie walked backward toward the couch. I followed him like a hound dog following the scent of a rabbit. We both plopped on the couch, the cookies between us.

  I grabbed one. “Oh god, they’re still warm.” I inhaled the first cookie and went for a second. “What’s with the Christmas motif?”

  “You know Mom—every day is Christmas.”

  Sorta like her son.

  Teddie cleared his throat. “Listen, about today—”

  He stopped at my raised hand.

  I turned toward him. In my sweats, ripped tee shirt, with my hair piled on top of my head, I’m sure I wasn’t exactly the stuff male fantasies are made of, but I needed to have my say. “Today wa
s a weird day.” His face fell, but I wasn’t finished. “Your kiss—our kiss—was the highlight.” Whoa, did I just say that?

  “For you, too?”

  “It was good, really good. It’s just that we went from A to Z all in one fell swoop.”

  “Actually, we probably went from D to S, but I get your drift. How about we do one letter at a time and see where it gets us?”

  I moved the tin of cookies to the floor, sidled in next to him, and put my head on his shoulder. “One letter at a time, I can handle that.”

  Chapter

  NINE

  I awoke slowly, savoring the feel of Teddie’s body wrapped in mine. One hand on his chest, a leg casually thrown across his, my body stretched the length of him. He felt warm, and hard in all the right places.

  “Good morning,” Teddie said, his voice tender and low.

  I smiled and opened my eyes. We’d fallen asleep on the couch. This wasn’t the first time, yet somehow this time seemed different. I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with different. “How’d you know I was awake?”

  “Your breathing changed.”

  I left my head on his shoulder. I didn’t want to move, not ever.

  He reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes, then he kissed my forehead.

  So this is what D looked like—fully clothed on the couch, a peck on the forehead. I could handle that, but part of me liked his kiss yesterday better. However, I’d asked for one letter at a time, I guess that’s what I was going to get. Be careful what you wish for, sprung to mind.

  One of these days I should listen to all these proverbs I’d been spouting. Sorta like rumors, proverbs had a grain of truth in there somewhere. Wasn’t there one about friends and lovers? As I recall it ended badly.

  “Hungry?”

  “Stupid question.” I groaned and tentatively stretched my legs. The one on the bottom was asleep. “What time is it?”

  “Rise-and-shine time.” Teddie sounded way too chipper, as if he’d been awake quite a while.

  “We need to set some ground rules,” I mumbled. “If we are going to sleep together, my first rule is ‘no perkiness.’ At least not until I’m fully caffeinated.”

  He gave me a lopsided grin. “Are we going to sleep together?”