Double-Crossed

by Ali Vali

  “How’s Dallas?” Remi was their father’s heir, and Mano was fine with taking orders and being her number two. Plus, he was enjoying seeing his twin in love. Like his wife Sylvia, the actress Dallas Montgomery had accepted their rather unorthodox business ventures.

  “She’s learning to play craps for a new role, so she’s been keeping Papi busy. The first couple of scenes will be shot in Vegas, and I’m coming along as a groupie.”

  “Plan to stay with us,” he said, imagining how happy his kids were going to be with the news. Ramon Jatibon III, or Tres as they called him, and Lilia, his little sister, loved their aunts Remi and Dallas. “And bring your glove. Tres is practicing for Little League and my arm’s getting tired.”

  “It’ll be a month or so, but I’ll let you know. If the star doesn’t have any production meetings, maybe we’ll come up early and bring Papi and Mami.”

  “We have plenty of room, and we’ll be waiting.”

  His intercom buzzed and the secretary announced there were two detectives to see him. “What’s that about?” Remi asked, having obviously heard.

  “I’ll call you back after I figure it out.” He pocketed the phone and smiled when his crew came through the side door. Dwayne St. Germain and Steve Palma had graduated law school with Remi, and they’d joined the family business before their graduation. They were usually at the studio with Remi but had relocated to Vegas to be closer to their Hollywood operation until the offices in New Orleans were done. “Any clue, guys?”

  “If we’re all guessing,” Steve said, sitting at the small conference table in the corner, “it’s got to do with the pervert down the street.”

  “All our stuff’s in order, but I’m sure Las Vegas’s finest don’t care about that,” Dwayne said.

  “You can handle this guy, but we’ll stay for moral support,” Steve said. “If that’s okay with you.”

  “Sir?” his secretary said.

  “Send them in.” Mano leaned against the front corner of his desk and waited.

  They came in looking like tired, worn-down cops. Nothing new there, then. One of them did, anyway. The other looked a little more eager. “Mr. Jatibon,” the older man said, holding his hand out. “I’m Detective Andrew Wamsley, and this is my partner Corey Grant. Thank you for seeing us.”

  “We always have time for dedicated public servants, but I’m at a loss as to what this is about.” He shook hands with both of them before taking a seat at the head of the table where his guys sat.

  “I’m sure you spotted the action down the street from this great perch,” Grant said in a tone that meant he was obviously playing the role of bad cop.

  “I did, and while I’m curious, the Bellagio’s business has nothing to do with us. Is there something we can help you with?”

  “Victor Madison OD’d last night with a young female,” Wamsley said, placing his hands flat on the table. “Most probably this was an accident brought on by some very bad judgment, but we have to cover all our bases. You understand.”

  “Actually, I don’t,” Mano said flatly.

  “Cut the shit,” Grant said loudly. “You’re Ramon Jatibon’s son, and Remi Jatibon’s brother, and you honestly don’t know why we’re here? Do we look stupid to you?”

  “If you want brutal honesty, you don’t sound like a very sharp pencil,” Mano said in a low voice. “You want to accuse me of something, go ahead, but let’s hope you have more than my family tree to back it up.”

  “Getting rid of your competition can’t be bad for your business if it leaves their business in disarray,” Wamsley said.

  “How many tourists—or locals for that matter, Detective Wamsley—can name the CEO of any casino on the Strip?” Steve asked.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” Grant asked.

  “It doesn’t matter who’s at the top,” Steve said. “The Bellagio’s tables and slots will be open today and every day after. Their big show will go on, and the buffet will be full no matter who’s at the top, so it would take blowing up the building to mess up their business enough to, as you said, send them into disarray.”

  “Now that you’ve gotten your business lesson for the day, I’d like to know how many other visits like this you plan to make during this investigation,” Dwayne said. “My client is a respected businessman, and a productive member of the community.”

  “Your client is also a member of an alleged Mob family and—” Grant snapped his mouth shut when Wamsley put his hand up.

  “Time to go, gentlemen,” Mano said, “and Detective Grant, we’ll need your precinct and contact information.”

  “It’s too early for my Christmas wish list,” Grant said, laughing.

  “If anyone gives you an early holiday gift, I’d use it to retain an attorney,” he said and Grant opened his mouth but his partner placed his hand on his forearm.

  “Corey’s new and enthusiastic,” Wamsley said. “He doesn’t fully understand the way things here work yet.”

  “Nothing like a slander suit to welcome him to the force then,” Steve said.

  “It’s my word against yours, and who’s the judge going to believe?” Grant sneered at them, looking every inch like a caricature of a cop.

  “You should know by now you’re always on surveillance video when you step into any casino in Vegas, Detective,” Dwayne said. “By walking in, you’ve given consent.”

  “Not in the management offices,” Grant said quickly. “No one puts cameras in there.”

  “There’s always an exception to every rule, so smile for the camera,” Mano said, pointing to the corner where the camera that was only turned on for meetings like this showed a blinking red light. “I wish you luck finding something to back up your accusations before you’re due in court.”

  “The boy said alleged,” Wamsley said. “No one’s reputation has been damaged here, so you’ve got no grounds. We just wanted to ask you if you knew anything about what happened at the Bellagio.”

  “Then you got no problems,” Steve said with a smile that meant what was coming would be fun for them. “Leave now while you think you’re still ahead.”

  “We’re not done,” Grant said, his jaw clenched.

  “And we’re going to be late for a meeting with the police commissioner,” Dwayne said. “That makes us done. Unless you’d like to call him and explain why you’re here about something we had nothing to do with. We can discuss my client’s family tree and the zero indictments against them.”

  “We’ll be back if anything ties this to you,” Wamsley said.

  “Thank you for the warning. Next time you’re going to need either a warrant or appointment,” Steve said. “Good luck getting either.”

  Mano could practically feel the vitriol vibrating from Grant as he slammed the door behind them.

  “Go ahead and cut the feed,” Mano said, moving back to his desk. “What did Victor have going on the side?”

  “Who knows? We didn’t keep tabs on him. Do you think that’s what those two are doing here?” Dwayne asked.

  “You know Papi’s philosophy about stuff like this. When someone goes down, the police start shoving pitchforks in the hay to see if they can find any other needles in the haystack. Waste of time—like all of us are in bed together. It doesn’t make sense to us, but it does to someone, and it might be the beginning of something we want no part of.” Gemini existed to launder money from the family’s illegal gambling businesses, and from their partnership with Cain Casey. The Casey family had run illegal liquor and cigarettes in New Orleans for generations, and their new partnership in the casino in Biloxi and in the movie studio in LA accomplished the same thing for their joint operations. They didn’t need to get involved with the other Mob families in Vegas. It wasn’t their style. But while they didn’t have anything to hide with regard to the Vegas happenings, they still didn’t want the police poking around their business, either.

  “Dwayne, make the meeting with the commissioner a reality,” Steve said.<
br />
  “Good,” Mano agreed. “Let’s see if we can figure this out before we bother Papi or Remi. Don’t get too handsy with this because I don’t want to get ambushed by the cops or any other family. But knowledge is never wasted, and I want information on what’s going on out there before it can come knocking at our door. Just to be safe.”

  “Do we have enough contacts here if this turns into something?” Dwayne asked.

  “Reinforcements are never too far away,” Mano said, and they all laughed. If someone wanted to start something with their family, they’d never live long enough to ponder their mistake. “But send some of the guys out and discreetly ask questions about Victor that have nothing to do with his interesting sex life.” He put his jacket on and called for his bodyguard, Hugo Padilla. “On second thought—I want to know about the woman who died with him. That could lead us somewhere.”

  “I doubt a nineteen-year-old will yield anything useful, boss,” Steve said.

  “Humor me,” he said as they headed out. “Sometimes treasures can be found in the unlikeliest of places.”

  * * *

  Diego Moretti held the telephone and listened to what the man was saying, but he was having a hard time hearing the words thanks to the rage going through him like fire in a dry field.

  His daughter Sofia had come home to get away for a little while, but she was going back to work on her marriage. Just a little break from problems that weren’t at all serious, she’d said. This phone call meant that was all bullshit, and the guy hadn’t introduced himself yet, but Diego had taken the call when the maid said it was from LVMPD.

  Cops calling his house, no matter where they were from, wasn’t something he ever welcomed—especially without a heads-up from someone he trusted.

  “Sir, can I speak to Mrs. Madison?” the officer asked for the third time.

  “Who is this?” He knew the secret to survival was control. The other families had tried to move in on his territory, but knowing his business had kept him on top. This, though, felt like the complete opposite of control.

  “This is Detective Andrew Wamsley with the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department.” It seemed like a lot of information but it wasn’t.

  “What do you need with my daughter?” The door to his study opened and his son Paolo walked in and dropped onto the sofa.

  “Sir, I just need to talk to Mrs. Madison.”

  “She’s out with her aunt, so you can tell me what this is about, or you can go back to whatever busywork takes up your day.” Cops were all the same. The assholes always thought they were the smartest people in the room when that wasn’t the case about ninety percent of the time. “I ain’t got all day.”

  “Sir, can you bring it down a notch,” Wamsley said softly. “It’s imperative that I speak to your daughter about an important matter. I’d rather her hear it from us, but if you’re her father, I can give you the message.”

  “Are you accusing her of something?” It would take less time for him to do a complex long division problem in his head than for this guy to spit out whatever he had to say.

  “No, sir, but her husband Victor was found dead this morning at Bellagio. From the coroner’s estimation, Mr. Madison passed away around ten o’clock last night.”

  “Damn,” he said, more from shock than grief.

  Victor Madison was a nobody Sofia had fallen for who’d used Diego’s connections to get where he was. The problem was, Victor wasn’t a grateful man, and even worse, he was a forgetful man. A man with no respect had no place in their lives, but Diego had ignored the bastard’s shortcomings because of his love for his daughter. And Victor had finally become useful as well, which made this particularly irritating. “What happened?”

  “It’s a rather delicate situation, sir, but from the preliminary reports, he and the young lady he was with OD’d.”

  Diego closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Victor was lucky he was already dead. “What young lady?”

  “We’re running down some leads on that, but I hope you see now why it’s important for me to talk to Mrs. Madison.”

  “I’ll make sure she calls. Have you located my grandsons? Do they know?” Pietro and Gabriel Madison were his family, God help him, but he didn’t really care for those little assholes much either.

  “According to the housekeeper, Mr. Madison sent them to visit his parents. We haven’t contacted them yet.”

  “Good, don’t. I’ll handle that, and I’ll also accompany my daughter back to Las Vegas. Thank you for calling.” Diego hung up before the cop said anything else about wanting to talk to Sofia.

  Detective Wamsley wasn’t going to fill in all the information he needed, and he had to find someone who would. He picked up the phone, and Lucan Terzo gave him the whole story, or as much of the story as he knew. Diego wanted to drive a knife through his son-in-law’s eyes even though he was dead. “What kind of sick fuck his age beds a nineteen-year-old with a rubber dick in his ass?” he whispered as he waited for Sofia.

  “Papa.” Sofia came in, her heels clicking on the floor, and kissed his cheek. “Is something wrong?”

  He sat her down and told her everything the cop and Lucan had told him. The truth, he figured, would save her from mourning the piece of shit. “You have to go back, but me and Paolo are coming with you.”

  “Thank you, Papa.” Sofia had yet to shed a tear.

  “Tell me, cara,” he said, “did you know he was cheating on you?”

  Sofia nodded and finally the tears came. “I only knew about a secretary, and I begged him to stop. He promised he’d take care of it, but I couldn’t stand it anymore so I came here. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

  “Why didn’t the boys come with you?” He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from Sofia.

  “It hasn’t been good between us, and Victor’s done everything he could to turn them against me.” She put her hand over her mouth and shook her head. “They’re going to blame me for this.”

  “Cara, go start packing and I’ll take care of everything.” He held Sofia for a moment and kissed her forehead. She left, her face covered by her hands.

  “Get on a plane to Reno and go get those two little fuckers,” he told Paolo once they were alone. “If Victor’s parents or my grandsons give you any shit, tell them I’ll come and take care of it myself. If that has to happen, tell them I’m not going to care that we’re all related.”

  “Sofia gave Victor too much influence over those boys. It’s not a surprise they have no respect,” Paolo said, hitting his palm with his fist. “If it wasn’t for you, Victor would’ve ended up in a trailer park selling bait somewhere.”

  “Trust me, I won’t mourn him, but we need to find out if Sofia had anything to do with this. Victor was an asshole who died with no honor, but you know what we had in place. If we rock the boat on that deal, the Terzos aren’t going to give a fuck about Sofia’s bad marriage, and we’ll make the perfect punching bags when it comes to blame.”

  “You think she put a hit on him?” Paolo asked, laughing as if the thought was ridiculous. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Paolo, remember that Sofia is a Moretti. If Victor flaunted this woman, I wouldn’t expect her to take it. I raised both my kids with more pride than that.” Diego rubbed his chin and nodded when Paolo held up the decanter on the bar. “I didn’t agree with her choice when she brought him home, but I gave my consent anyway.”

  “What if she did have something to do with this?”

  “I’ll tell her she did what she had to do—that I understand. She’ll have to understand, though, that whoever did this is a loose end, and that, along with lying to me, is unacceptable.” He downed his drink and kissed Paolo’s cheek. “That’s a lesson the two of us know well.”

  “True, Papa, but if Sofia did do this, don’t give her too hard a time. It’s saved us from having to kill him.”

  “Let’s go pack. Vegas isn’t my favorite place, but our future is there. It’s ti
me to make sure it remains bright.”

  Chapter Seven

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Robert Wallace asked Dean as he looked over the preliminary reports of the audit he’d ordered. He’d been able to postpone the meeting Francesco Terzo wanted until this was done. It was the only way he could think to start slowly breaking away from the Terzo family and all their connections. He had something much bigger in the works and needed more time to implement his plans.

  “I needed help getting this done,” Dean said hesitantly.

  “What the fuck are you talking about? I told you to take your time and do it yourself.” Robert listened when Dean told him exactly who was doing the work. “I don’t have time to explain to you what a screw-up you are, but remember this when you have to live with what has to happen.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You really want two bitches walking around with a complete picture of what’s going on here?” He got in Dean’s face and poked him in the chest. “Your laziness sealed their fates, Dean.”

  “Are you sure?” The whine in Dean’s voice meant he didn’t have the stomach for what came next. “They don’t see the total picture every day, and they both have kids. They’ll totally go back to what they were doing with no problem when I assign them back to their regular duties.”

  “And what happens if the gaming commission or the Feds want a real audit and start asking questions? Do you think these two women are going to toe the line when the agents show them the fake books? I don’t think so.” He was tired of having this conversation, and from what he was seeing, he couldn’t fathom going forward with Dean in charge since he wasn’t man enough to be convinced of the hard truths the business demanded.

  That made getting the Bellagio job important. The Terzos could keep this dump and do whatever they wanted with Dean—he wouldn’t be his problem anymore. “Remember, your ass is on the line here too. We get caught, and we’re all going to jail.”