“Showtime,” I whispered to Romeo as somebody threw back the bolt.
The door opened.
Willie!
I could tell he didn’t recognize me right off—one unexpected benefit of that makeover.
“Hello, Weasel,” I said.
The light dawned in his eyes. “Oh God, it’s the Babylon’s Amazon!”
I threw an elbow, hitting him smack in the nose. “That is for Lyda Sue.”
Willie staggered back—his hands clutching his nose.
I followed him inside. I put my hands on his shoulders and brought my knee up as hard as I could into the soft flesh of his crotch. “And that’s for me.”
Willie crumpled to the floor—his mouth formed a circle but no sound came out. On his back, one hand on his nose, the other holding his privates, he writhed in pain. Blood splattered the beautiful white, Italian marble floor, forming an interesting Rorschach pattern.
I put a foot in the middle of his chest. “Don’t move.” Adrenaline and the sweet thrill of revenge coursed through my veins. Exacting revenge was even better than I had imagined, a high no drug could match.
Blood oozed between the Weasel’s fingers. “I think you broke my nose.”
His words came out nasally sounding and high-pitched, tinged with pain. I liked that.
“No doubt.” I put pressure on his chest to get his attention. “And that’s not the only part of you I’ll break if you mess with me. Now be still.” I motioned to Romeo. “Find a towel or something, would you? And take a quick look around. See if anybody else is here. Be careful.”
He disappeared into the house.
“Who’s the boyfriend?” Willie asked as he motioned after Romeo.
“Just a trainee along for the ride.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with the whore who fell out of the helicopter.” He actually sounded sincere. Lying was one of Willie’s best things.
“We’ll get to that. Where’s your friend, Phil?”
“Out of town,” Willie said, then spat some blood.
I was actually enjoying this—tiptoeing along the line between saint and sinner. I wondered what that said about my character—or lack thereof. “How long has he been gone?”
“A couple of weeks. Nobody with any money spends the summers in Vegas.” Willie tried to wipe the blood away, but it was gushing too fast. “I look after the place while he’s gone.”
Willie was lying. The bartender had put Phil Stewart in town last Friday. “And the party on Thursday?”
Willie’s eyes widened with pain or surprise, I wasn’t sure which. “He’ll be back for that.”
“You know when?”
“Whenever he wants. He has his own jet.”
I increased the pressure on Willie’s chest.
“Ow. Okay, okay. Sometime tomorrow. He’s coming from Jackson Hole.”
Romeo reappeared with what looked to be a guest towel. He looked sheepish. I grabbed the towel and looked at it, then snorted. Several naked men, penises erect, comprised the beautifully embroidered border. Guess he’d gotten it from the girls’ bathroom. I tossed it to Willie.
Willie caught it in one hand and pressed it to his nose. His eyes never left me. I saw hate in them—and fear.
“How’d you learn to do that?” Romeo asked, his voice tinged with awe as he nodded at Willie.
“I grew up in a whorehouse. A girl learns how to protect herself pretty quick. First time I broke a guy’s nose, I also broke my hand. Used my elbow ever since.”
“Wow.”
Romeo and I each grabbed an arm and pulled Willie out to the patio. He was making way too much of a mess in the house. We tossed him onto a plastic chaise by the pool.
I took a good hard look at Willie the Weasel. Everything about him was bland, from his lifeless brown hair, to his small, close-set eyes, to his thick lips that matched his thick waist—and thick head. He’d been a wart on my ass for years—a tough-guy wannabe with rich friends who had powerful lawyers.
A guppy trying to swim with the big fish.
Why The Big Boss kept him around, I never could understand. You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to fly a helicopter. I almost had him once—but slick lawyers got him off—I still don’t know how. The Big Boss had almost fired him then, but for some reason, he didn’t pull the trigger. What had he said? It was better to keep your enemies close, that way you knew what they were up to?
And Willie was the kind to get even—with me. He’d almost pulled it off, too. I’d sworn I’d kill him the next time I saw him—an idle threat since he wasn’t worth jail time. But breaking his nose? I clearly wasn’t above that. And busting his balls? Not above that either. Add the prospect of a murder indictment on top, well—that was a rich dessert after an exquisite dinner—a triumvirate of decadent pleasure.
“You know you can’t just barge in here and assault an honest citizen.” Willie had propped himself up on one elbow, the hand towel still pressed to his nose. “I’ll sue you again.”
“Brave words from an idiot,” I said. “First, we didn’t barge in—you opened the door. Second, you aren’t even close to being an honest citizen—you’re wanted for murder. Remember?”
Willie, acting bored, flopped back on his chaise. “Oh that. I didn’t do it.”
“You were flying, pilot-in-command and all of that. If it wasn’t your fault, whose was it?” I could feel the slight vibration of the tape recorder in my pocket.
Romeo stood to the side making himself small, but he was close enough for his recorder to catch Willie’s every word as well.
“Look, all I did was agree to take the three of them for a ride. Lyda Sue knew Felicia and knew that we’d been dating—me and Felicia.” Willie pulled the handkerchief away from his nose. The blood started to flow again.
“Keep the pressure on it.” I mashed the handkerchief back on his nose.
“Ow.” He glared at me. He looked even more stupid than usual with the embroidered little men, their penises erect, dancing around his nose.
“Go on.”
“Anyway, Lyda Sue thought it would be fun to go for a ride over the Strip after dark. So, I agreed to take them.”
“And The Big Boss? How’d he end up in the helicopter?”
“Like I said, it was Felicia’s idea. She knew he and Lyda Sue were chummy—if you get my drift?”
I resisted the urge to break more of his body parts. “I get your drift.”
“Felicia thought it would be fun to have the great man himself along, so she suggested it to Lyda Sue. The rest is history.”
“So The Big Boss was just along for the ride?”
“Yeah, the dickhead was clueless.”
Brave man, Willie—calling The Big Boss names when he wasn’t around. “So exactly how did Lyda Sue end up in the pirates’ lagoon? Wasn’t she belted in?”
“When we were over the pirate show, Felica pulled out a camera. She said she’d take their picture if Lyda Sue would move over right next to The Big Boss.” Willie swallowed hard, his mask of bravado slipping. “I guess she undid her seat belt and did as Felicia asked, or started to anyway. Right about that time, Felicia reached over, grabbed the cyclic and banked the helicopter hard to the side. We all lost our balance. Lyda Sue was thrown against the door. I guess the latch popped.”
Right. “And?”
“I turned around and she was gone.”
“What then?”
“The Big Boss freaked out—started screaming at us. I was numb. And you know the weirdest thing?” Willie looked at me, his eyes wide.
“I can’t imagine.”
“Felicia just laughed.”
“Tell me the rest.”
“I took The Big Boss to Northtown. Then Felicia came with me to Spanish Trail—where you found the helicopter. I was watching you, you know.”
No wonder I’d been so creeped out that night.
“All the way here, Felicia kept talking about how we had The Big Boss and how that was going t
o be worth big money.”
“Was she going to shake down The Big Boss?”
Willie shook his head. “Maybe, I’m not real sure. I got the idea there was somebody else, but she never said who.”
“Did she hole up here with you?”
“No, she split. She had a car stashed outside the Hacienda gate. Said she’d be back.”
“And you believed her? You really are a putz, Willie.”
Anger flared in his eyes.
“She set you up.” I stopped. “No, she didn’t set you up—she served you up on a platter.”
“Nobody sets me up.”
“Yeah? You’ve just given me this song and dance about being lead around by some harebrained female. You’re a candidate for that stupid criminal show. And what an idiotic idea in the first place—the whole thing was captured on film.”
“You mean we’ll be famous—like Bonnie and Clyde?”
I could see Willie’s pea brain working—in the crowd he hung with, murder was the ultimate status symbol.
“Not you—Felicia. You didn’t know anything about it. You were just the dupe along for the ride.”
“What if I wasn’t?” he said slowly, after eyeing me for a moment.
“Are you telling me you’re smarter than you look? That the plan was your idea, too?” Assigning any smarts to Willie was an insult to all the smart people of the world, but it was all I had, so I went with it.
He thought for a moment, which was a real stretch for Willie the Weasel. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m telling you. It was part my idea.”
I heard Romeo gasp behind me. I flopped down in the chair across from Willie’s.
I never expected the Perry Mason thing to work. Not in a million years. That stuff only happened on television and in Agatha Christie novels.
I’d already gotten what I came for—The Big Boss was off the hook.
But I’d reeled in Willie as well.
All in all, this was a most satisfying day.
Apparently Willie saw the look of satisfaction on my face. “You turn me in, I’ll deny everything I said. I just wanted you to know the truth.”
“You mean about what a tough guy you are?”
“Yeah.” If someone could have a swagger in his voice, Willie had it.
“You’ll deny it all?”
Willie tried to snort, then winced. “Whaddya think, I’m stupid or something?”
I reached in my pocket and slowly extracted the tape recorder. I saw reality dawn in Willie the Weasel’s tiny little eyes as his predicament registered in his tiny little brain.
“Yeah, stupid or something, for sure,” I said with a very satisfied grin. “You are so up shit creek.” I stood and bent over him. For a moment we were eye to eye.
Then I hit him again with an elbow to his nose.
He screamed in pain as his body instinctively curled into the fetal position.
“And don’t you ever, ever fuck with me or my friends again.”
ROMEO called for backup.
I called the office. “Anybody looking for me?” I asked Miss Patterson when she answered.
“Funny you should ask. Irv Gittings himself called looking for you. He wants you to call him back. He’ll be at the office until late.”
Interesting. I had one of the three stooges, I had a line on the second, and now I get a call from the third. At least I had a hunch he was the third—everything pointed to him. So far today, I was batting a thousand on my hunches. It was time to test my average and see if it held up.
“Anybody else?”
“Teddie wanted me to remind you it’s movie night, but that’s it. Where are you anyway?”
“Oh, just taking a little personal time. I’ll be back in about an hour and a half, maybe two. Can you hold down the fort until then?”
“Of course, but I’ll have to leave soon after that. Jeremy’s picking me up at nine thirty.”
“I see.” I didn’t try to keep the grin out of my voice.
“I was hoping you could get back in time to help me freshen my makeup.”
“Need a little moral support?”
“Sorta.”
“When do you want me back?”
“Could you be back by nine?”
That gave me two and half hours. “Count on it.” I reclipped my Nextel at my hip.
SIREN blaring, the squad car squealed to a stop out front, followed in loose formation by two Spanish Trail security vehicles. The uniforms now stepped in and cuffed Willie, leading him out of the house. They even put their hand on his head, pushing him down and into the backseat of the waiting squad car, just like on television.
Willie glared at me through the car’s window.
I waggled my fingers at him. “Have a nice life.”
Romeo appeared at my shoulder. “You look like the cat who ate the canary.”
“I just got to live every woman’s dream.”
“Women have dreams like that?”
“I don’t know a woman who doesn’t fantasize about breaking some asshole’s nose and busting him in the balls. Legal ramifications aside, it’s okay for men to settle their issues with a shot to the nose, but women are supposed to be ladies—society’s way of making us powerless.” I shrugged. “I never really bought into that.”
“I can see that.” Romeo pursed his lips in thought. “I’ll get credit for a big bust thanks to you.”
“You held up your end.”
“Hangin’ with you sure is educational.”
“Kid, if I couldn’t handle the weasels of the world, they would’ve run me out of town on a rail years ago.” I put my arm around his shoulder and adopted a collegial attitude. “Louie, this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”
“Casablanca, right?”
“Romeo, you got real potential.”
“I’m beginning to understand why you’re the go-to guy at the Babylon.” Romeo grinned as he pointed to the uniforms in their squad car. “I’m going to ride with them. I’m not letting the Weasel out of my sight.”
“I don’t blame you.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to let the asshole out of my sight either.
“One question though.”
“Fire away.”
“How’d you know your boss was in the helicopter as well?” Yep, the kid had real potential.
“Hang around me long enough, I’ll show you some of my tricks. You think you can keep a lid on the Weasel’s arrest while I try to get a line on Felicia Reilly?”
Romeo nodded slowly as he eyed me. “I’ll do my best, but if the reporters get wind of this, damage control is up to you.”
“Damage control—that’s my thing. Detective Richards is going to chew you up and spit you out for not bringing him in the loop.”
“Not when I walk through the door with Willie the Weasel.” Romeo grinned.
“That does add a couple of aces to your hand, doesn’t it?” The kid even had a backbone. Not a bad friend to have in the police department.
Yes, this had been a most satisfying day.
“So, where are you going next?” Romeo asked. “You look like you have something up your sleeve.”
“Oh, I got another hunch.”
“You need some help?”
“No, this one I have to do on my own.”
“You be careful.”
“I can take care of myself,” I said with a grin.
“No shit,” the kid said, not even trying to hide the awe in his voice.
Romeo and I stood there a moment, shoulder to shoulder, each savoring the moment as we surveyed the neighborhood. The squad car, along with the Spanish Trail security trucks, hadn’t attracted any attention at all. Not one neighbor had even bothered to saunter by to ask what was going on.
“Where is everybody?” asked Romeo.
“Like Willie said, nobody with somewhere else to go stays here in the summer. But those who can’t escape to cooler climes all hide inside—I’ve seen it before. These places aren’t like real neighborhood
s; they’re like a movie set, each house carefully constructed to reflect its owner’s wealth. Neighbors separated by their own sense of self-importance.”
“Weird.”
“Welcome to Vegas, baby.”
I watched the squad car, trailed by the security vehicles, as it left the neighborhood; then I locked the front door behind me and walked to the Ferrari.
Irv Gittings said he’d be in his office.
Chapter
TWELVE
One of the few remaining grand dames of the Vegas Strip, the Athena was an aging star—a throwback to the fifties. The growth of the megaresorts had taken off at the other end of the Strip. Stranded at the wrong end of the action, the Athena was an island surrounded by a sea of lesser properties gone to seed. Ripe for a cash infusion—or demolition—the Athena was sinking.
I had a hunch Irv Gittings was a desperate man, and desperate men do desperate things.
Braking the Ferrari to a stop at the front entrance, I threw open the door, leapt out and tossed the keys to the female valet. “Don’t move it. Don’t touch it. I’ll be back shortly.”
“You got it, Ms. O’Toole.” A young woman with long, dark hair and a runner’s physique caught the keys in one hand as I dashed by her and through the front doors. I thought I recognized her from a class I had taught at UNLV in the hotel and restaurant management program.
Dark and stale, the lobby was almost empty, even during this, the busiest week of the year. Off to the right, the casino was eerily quiet. I’m sure the rooms were booked, the whole town was bursting at the seams, but obviously nobody wanted to stay and play here, which was the kiss of death to a casino. Vegas rule number one—you can’t make any money if you can’t keep it in the house.
In need of freshening up, I decided to hit the ladies’ lounge near the main bank of elevators. To be honest, my resolve needed a little fortifying as well.
I was about to come face-to-face with one of my biggest mistakes.
Back when I was young and stupid and still believed in fairy tales, I’d had an affair with the dashing Mr. Gittings. A whole year of sleeping with him, dining with him, appearing on his arm at fabulous parties attended by a whole parade of celebrities, our pictures in the society pages—I still don’t know how I could’ve been so naïve. Gullible, and inexperienced, I had been blinded by his star power, flattered by his attention, and seduced by his stories of us being the power couple of Vegas.
Wanna Get Lucky? Page 18