“Thanks,” I said. “If you ever see him again, could you pass my card on to him? I’ve been trying to get in touch with him.”
Cassandra looked at my card suspiciously. “You’re a private investigator? Why are you trying to get in touch with Johnson?”
“I’m looking for a friend, and Johnson might know where he is.”
Cassandra nodded and rolled her eyes as though she understood. She tucked my card into her pocket and said, “Men, right? Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.”
“Oh no,” I said, quickly as I realized she thought I was looking for a lost boyfriend. Cassandra raised one eyebrow, and it struck me that the truth would be far more difficult to explain. “Yeah,” I finished, hoping I didn’t sound too lame.
“I’ll pass it along if I see him.”
I sat in one of the booths at the back, waiting for my food, and when it arrived, I ate it slowly, looking around and trying to understand why Johnson would prefer this diner over anywhere else. I decided that he must live nearby, but I couldn’t imagine him living in one of the nearby planned communities or the retirement village. He’d always seemed like a ghost—perhaps he lived in one of the mobile home parks nearby. It would be easy enough to be anonymous there. Perhaps Stone was living there too.
While I ate my meal, people came and went from the diner. It wasn’t too busy, and the place attracted an eclectic crowd—a group of octogenarians from the nearby old folks’ home, a couple of truckers, a few families with young children.
On my way out, I tipped Cassandra heavily and reminded her to pass my card on to Johnson if she ever saw him.
It was almost time for my shift, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of excitement that I was finally getting closer to finding out where Stone was. If I needed to, I would have lunch at the diner every day until I met Johnson and had a chance to ask him what was going on.
Chapter Thirteen
I got to the casino a few minutes before my shift began at ten. Tonight, Brian was running the pre-shift meeting, and I had to sit through fifteen minutes of his random platitudes. He talked about how we would do the Treasury Casino proud, and encourage the players to gamble more by being nice, friendly and professional.
At the end of the meeting, he reminded us that weight controls would be introduced in a week and a half, so if anyone was far out from the BMI requirements, we should take drastic measures if we wanted to keep working here. My friends and I exchanged glances and rolled our eyes when he said that. The more he talked, the more I hated him; it was as though the casino was trying to get rid of all the dealers it deemed unattractive.
I was in a grumpy mood by the time I started work, but pretty soon, the familiar, jovial atmosphere of the casino flooded over me, and I smiled and bantered with the players, telling everyone honestly that I hoped they won.
My shift was over before I knew it, and then it was early in the morning, and I was back home. I wasted no time in enjoying a quick nap before I got dressed again and headed over to the Blue Bear Diner. Cassandra was working behind the counter again, and when I asked if she’d seen Johnson, she shook her head no.
I sat in one of the booths at the back and had a slow, leisurely lunch that took more than an hour. But Johnson didn’t show up, and finally, I left reluctantly, remembering to tip Cassandra well. I hoped that I would see Johnson soon—eating at the diner every day was turning out to be quite expensive.
When I got back to my apartment, I found Ian waiting for me at my door.
“Where have you been?” he said. “I’ve been trying to call you but you won’t answer.”
“I had to run a quick errand.”
“I’ve been trying to call you for the last two hours. Where did you go?”
I unlocked the door and ushered Ian inside. I couldn’t tell him that I was trying to track down Johnson; if I did, he would insist on coming along, and he might scare Johnson away. So I changed the topic quickly.
“Come on. I’ll find out the details of the girls who are accusing Carl of stuff, and then you can call them and make appointments for us to talk to them. Meanwhile, I’m going to call up my contact at the airport and see if any of Carl’s family flew into Vegas recently.”
The woman who claimed that Carl had been violent toward her when they’d been dating was named Emma Tyrone, and the woman who claimed that Carl was her baby daddy was Danielle Brown. I had no trouble pulling up their details from my PI database, and I reeled off their numbers to Ian.
“Are you sure you want me to call them?” said Ian. “Maybe I’ll scare them off.”
“You might as well give it a shot,” I said. “These women want publicity, so I’m sure they’ll be happy to talk to us.”
As Ian dialed the first number, I pulled up the names and details of Carl’s ex-wives and his five sons, and then I called my friend Adrian, who worked at McCarran Airport. When Adrian answered, I explained to him that I was trying to find out if any of Carl’s family members had flown into Vegas or Los Angeles a few days before his death. I passed on their details, and Adrian promised that he would look them up and have the information ready for me by tomorrow.
I was pretty sure that Adrian wouldn’t find out anything interesting, but it was important to cover all the bases. So much of investigating is grunt work—but without the grunt work, that odd flash in the pan never shows up.
After I hung up, I waited for Ian to finish his second phone call, and then I said, “Well? How did it go?”
Ian beamed at me. “Investigating is so much fun! Both of them were really nice to me, and they said they would be happy to talk to us. We can meet Danielle tomorrow, and we’re meeting Emma the day after.”
“That’s great!” I said just as a wave of sleepiness hit me, and I stifled a yawn. “I knew you would do well.”
“What do we do now?” said Ian. “Do you wanna go and talk to Steve, the bodyguard?”
I shook my head. “I called him last night and left a message on his phone. I’ll give him a day to respond to us.”
“Don’t you think his behavior was odd? He didn’t want to talk to us, and then he raced off even though we’d asked him to stay back.”
I shook my head. “Lots of people don’t like talking to investigators. And maybe he had an appointment after his shift, or he just didn’t want to stay back for no good reason.”
“I think he knows something,” said Ian.
“He might,” I said, “but I’ll give him a day to get back to me. If he doesn’t, I’ll look up his details in the database, and then we can go and find him.”
Ian nodded. “Okay, then what do we do today?”
I shook my head. “I hate to say this, but I’m beat. We don’t have any appointments set up for today, and my shift starts at ten p.m. Plus, I got an email this morning asking me to come in an hour earlier—maybe they want to fire me ahead of time.”
Ian looked at me seriously. “They can’t want to fire you—they’d have to pay severance pay if they did that.”
I sighed. “You’re right. It does sound unlikely, but I don’t know why they want me to go in early. Either way, I’m exhausted. I hardly got any sleep this morning—”
“Because you had to run an errand,” Ian said, sounding suspicious.
I nodded. “Anyway, I’ll catch up on a few hours of sleep, and then we can work on the case again tomorrow. How does that sound?”
“You do look exhausted,” said Ian. “Maybe I’ll watch some of my sitcoms while you sleep. I’ve gotten behind with my TV watching.”
“That’s how it is when you’ve got work to do,” I said lightly. “You don’t have time for much else.”
Ian nodded. “I hope things go well at your shift tonight.”
I showed up at the casino an hour before my shift, wondering what was going on.
The email I’d received was a generic one from the pit boss, asking me to come in early. Usually, they only sent out emails like that if they wanted to discuss so
me bad behavior or new security measures.
But when I went to see the pit boss and asked him about the email, he just shrugged and told me that management wanted to talk to me.
I grabbed my security clearance pass and headed up to the forty-third floor, where the management offices were. I was supposed to see a man named Hamish Macaulay, who was apparently the Assistant Head of HR.
I’d never been to the Treasury Casino’s management offices, and they turned out to be quiet, mint-scented expanses of cubicles. When I asked to see Hamish, a stern-looking receptionist led me over to a small glass-walled office on one side of the floor.
Hamish turned out to be a short man with dirty-blond hair, who smiled at me warmly when I walked in.
“Tiffany Black,” he said. “I’m so glad to meet you in person.”
I looked at him suspiciously and murmured something polite as I sat down.
“You’re probably wondering why you’re here?”
I nodded.
“It’s about the email you sent us the other day,” said Hamish. “We’ve read it with a lot of interest.”
I felt my face coloring up. Perhaps I shouldn’t have sent that angry email—but I did mean everything that I’d said. “I just thought that perhaps you would never hear this perspective from Brian.”
Hamish nodded. “Many of us in management don’t have experience in the pit, which is why we appreciate your feedback. We’re always trying to encourage employees to tell us what we’re doing right and what we’re doing wrong.”
I had no idea where this was going, so I nodded politely. “I really enjoy working at the Treasury Casino,” I said.
“I’m glad to hear that,” said Hamish. “And I do believe you have the casino’s best interests at heart when you say that experienced dealers shouldn’t be forced to have weight management rules apply to them. I think you might be right—there is a case for making an exception.”
I looked at Hamish, taking a few seconds to process what he’d said. “So you’re not going to implement weight controls after all?”
Hamish shook his head. “It’s not as simple as that. We’ll require stringent weight controls for new dealers, and they’ll have to stick to the guidelines for the first couple of years that they work here. But you and many other dealers have been working here for a number of years, and your performance has been exemplary. The casino couldn’t perform as well as it does if it weren’t for our wonderful employees.”
“So what you’re saying is that weight controls won’t apply to existing employees.”
Hamish nodded. “Yes, as of today, we’re going to abolish weight controls for existing dealers. However, they will apply for new dealers.”
My entire body sagged with relief. “Wow. I never expected this.”
“If we had gone ahead with the weight controls,” said Hamish lightly, “what would you have done?”
“Most of the other dealers and I have been looking for work elsewhere. We would have just left.”
Hamish nodded. “Yes, that’s what we thought. A mass exodus of experienced dealers wouldn’t do us any good. We really appreciate that you sent us the email. In fact, I was wondering if someone as observant as you might be interested in becoming a pit boss?”
I looked at him, my mouth slightly agape. “I never considered being a pit boss,” I said. What I didn’t say was that it was easier to take time off as a dealer, whenever I needed an extra day or two to work on a case.
“It’s a great career opportunity,” said Hamish. “I hope you’ll consider it.”
He must’ve seen the skepticism on my face, so I forced myself to nod and say, “Yes, I’m just surprised, that’s all. I’ll certainly keep it in mind.”
We stood up, and he said, “I do mean it. Can you see yourself working as a dealer for the rest of your life?”
I looked at him and considered the question.
It was hard to see more than a few years into the future. But I wasn’t sure how I could be able to juggle being a pit boss and being a private investigator.
Chapter Fourteen
Brian announced at that night’s meeting that weight controls would be scrapped for existing dealers. Cheers erupted after he made the announcement, but he looked glum and disappointed that his brilliant idea had been discarded by management.
My shift passed in a haze of happy gamblers. I was so used to the bright lights and cheerful jingles of the casino that it had become like a second home to me, and as I dealt out the cards and joked with the gamblers, I wondered what it would be like to be the pit boss.
In some ways, their job was easier—but they also had more responsibilities, and a slightly more stressful time. Because of their responsibilities, they couldn’t just call in sick and take a day off like I did every once in a while when my cases got too busy. I just couldn’t see how I’d manage to be both a pit boss and a private investigator.
After I got home and had a quick nap, I headed straight to the diner. But once again, Cassandra told me that Johnson hadn’t come in today, and despite having a long lunch, I didn’t run into him.
When I got back to my apartment, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit disappointed. I had been so excited at the prospect of running into Johnson—I had thought that perhaps I would already have met him by now. But it hadn’t happened yet, and I wondered if maybe it wouldn’t happen at all. Perhaps Johnson had gone into hiding the same way Stone had.
Once more, Ian was waiting for me at my door when I got back to my apartment.
He didn’t look at all happy to see me, and a mixture of annoyance and hurt was painted all over his face. “Where were you?”
I forced myself to smile. “I was running an errand.”
“No, you weren’t,” Ian said. “I know you’re up to something.”
I rolled my eyes and opened the door to my apartment, ushering Ian inside before locking the door behind us. This was the trouble with making friends; they were nosy and insisted on knowing everything.
“I thought we were partners,” said Ian. “Why won’t you tell me what you’re doing?”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do you have to know everything?”
“I don’t like you keeping secrets. What’s going on?”
I settled on the Ladies’ Perfect Excuse from the 1950s. “I had female issues.”
That shut Ian up for all of a split second.
“What female issues?” he said. “Did you have to see the doctor?”
“No.”
“Then what? Did you have to go buy some tampons?”
“Yes,” I said, exasperated.
“That’s a lie! You don’t have any shopping bags with you. Why won’t you tell me what’s happening? You know I can help you out.”
He looked at me, his eyes hurt and pleading, and I felt a sudden pang of guilt. This was exactly what I kept telling Stone—if he just told me what was going on, I could help him out.
I sat down on the sofa and let my body slump into the soft cushions. “I was trying to find Johnson.”
“What!” Ian’s eyes grew wild; he ran one hand through his thick mass of curls and began to pace the room. “You found Johnson! That’s great! What happened?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t find him, I’m trying to find him. And sit down, you’re giving me a headache with your pacing.”
Ian sat down on a chair opposite me, and said, “Where are you trying to find him? Did you get any new leads?”
I nodded, not feeling much enthusiasm. “Apparently he frequents a diner near the Pecos Substation. I’ve been having lunch there, trying to run into him.”
Ian simmered down a little. “But you haven’t seen him yet?”
I shook my head, feeling drained. “It’s only been two days, but he hasn’t shown up. Maybe he never will.”
Ian looked at me and smiled. “I’m sure that’s not true. If he likes to go to this diner, he’ll keep going. He’s got no idea you’re looking for him. And if you�
��d like, we can take turns. I can go to the diner one day, and you can go another day.”
I forced myself to smile. “It’s nice of you to offer, but Johnson might get worried if he sees you. He doesn’t know who you are, but I can explain that I’m Stone’s friend.”
“You know I’m happy to help out. I could wait for you in the car—and then if Johnson shows up, I can tail him to his house.”
I shook my head. “I’m hoping to gain this guy’s trust. Having someone wait for him in the car and then tail him won’t help our case.”
Ian nodded. “Okay, I understand. But you have to let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
I smiled wanly. “I will, thanks for the offer. But I can’t get Johnson to hurry up and meet me, so we might as well focus on the case. We’re supposed to meet Senators Samantha Pritchett and Chase Wingrove today.”
“And Danielle Brown,” Ian reminded me.
I nodded. “But first, I’d better check up with my friend Adrian.”
My phone call to Adrian was about as quick as I’d expected it to be. None of Carl’s family had flown into Vegas or Los Angeles anytime in the past few weeks. It was just as I’d expected, but it was disheartening nonetheless. I thanked Adrian for his help, promising to catch up with him soon.
“No luck there,” I said to Ian. “Let’s see if we can learn anything from Senators Pritchett and Wingrove.”
Chapter Fifteen
“I would rather talk to each of them alone,” I said as I drove over to their hotel, “but I guess talking to both of them together is better than not talking to them at all.”
“I wonder what they’ll be like when they’re together,” said Ian. “They’re supposed to be enemies, since they’re running against each other. How did they agree to talk to you at the same time?”
Pesky Politicians in Las Vegas Page 8