"I thought that name sounded familiar," he said.
"See. I'm a good ally to have. And it's not like this isn't something I couldn't just find on the internet in about two seconds. We're intrigued. So, please. Share."
"Very well, I'll give you the basics. The young woman claims she was attacked by two men here in our hotel. Her memory is hazy, unfortunately. She blacked out from the attack and when she finally came to she was being raped. She remembers having her hands bound behind her, but that’s about it. She blacked out again and when she awoke, she was alone, face down in the dirt, blood and muck covering almost her entire body. She was found some four hours later buy an officer driving nearby."
"Oh my god!" Elise gasped again.
"Wow, that is terrible," I added. I felt sick to my stomach. I'm sure Elise did too. I could see it on her face. This wasn't the hangover. "So, excuse my obtuseness, but what does that have to do with being sued and you? I don't understand."
"Simple, Mr. Lemons. She is suing the hotel, so naturally myself and the hotel detective have to investigate this matter intensely. Unfortunately, the world we live in today, we can't just take everyone at their word. We need to make sure we are not being conned. We need to make sure she really was abducted here. And we need to find out exactly what happened and who did it. If for nothing else than to just prevent it from every happening again.
Unfortunately, Mr. Lemons, we run a business here, and the bottom line is always the cost. We could have just paid her off, but compared to what it would cost to run the investigation as opposed to what she is asking, it is cheaper for us to dig deeper in to it. I'm sure you are sympathetic to our procedure, being a P.I. yourself."
"No! We are not," Elise said. "The woman was beaten and raped and you are going to treat her like a criminal?! That is complete-"
I put my arm on her knee to quiet her down. "We understand, Mr. Adams." I looked at Elise. "It's just like what we would do. Always suspect the client first."
She gave me a dirty look then sat in silence.
"So, how is it going?" I finally asked.
"Not well. Not well at all," he answered.
"What's the problem?"
"The problem, Mr. Lemons, is we have yet to find her leaving the casino. We've spent countless hours watching video after video from the night of her disappearance. We follow her all over the hotel until she makes her way to her room. That's the last we ever see of her. It's like she vanished into thin air."
"Interesting. What day was this?" I asked.
He closed his eyes and gave his head a slight shake.
"Last Tuesday."
10.
"Welp, let's make like a baby and head out, Elise," I said. "Thank you for your time with this matter, Mr. Adams. I'm sorry that you don't think there is something a little odd about finding a dead body on the same day as an apparent rape, but I guess that's why I'm the investigator and you're the security. Thanks for the room key." I reached into my pants and grabbed my wallet and removed one of my cards. I handed it to Mr. Adams and said, "Here's my card, my good man. You call me if you need any help solving this case." I grabbed Elise's arm and we busted out the door back into the lobby. My adrenaline was pumping.
"Well, that was interesting," Elise said to me as we snaked our way through the crowds of people pissing their money away. Normally this many people gathered around me, bumping into me, would drive me insane, making me breath heavily and my vision become tunneled, my legs unsteady, but today I barreled through them with hardly any hesitance. I was on a mission and none of these pathetic, drunken losers with their dreams of hitting it big could stop me.
"It certainly was," I said. "Come on, let’s get some lunch and talk this one over."
"Great. I am starving. Need bacon! And French toast."
"Hey Calvin Coolidge, you were asleep for twelve hours! Breakfast is over."
"No way, Vegas has tons of buffets that serve all foods at all hours of the days."
I stopped in my tracks, amidst the gray haze of cigarette smoke and the dank, dour air of booze ridden sweat and broken dreams, to look at my partner, my friend, my love, the mother of my two favorite people on the planet. I looked her straight in the eye, with utter disbelieve, shock, repulsion and mild anger. Of all the things I have gone through in my entire life, of all the ups and all the downs, of all the pain I have been through, the heartache, the tears, none of that compared to the horror of this. I looked at Elise, right into her glossed over, empty stare of last night’s drunken stupor. Time seemed to stop around me. The room seemed quiet and still.
"I'm sorry. Did you just suggest we eat at a...buffet?"
"What? No."
"You did! You did suggest it! I heard with my own two ears! Do you know what goes on at buffets, Elise? Do you?"
"Um, you can eat until you're full for fairly cheap?"
"No! That's not what goes on. I'll tell ya what goes on! It's about one step above a potluck! People make this FOOD," (I actually did air quotes around FOOD. I'm not proud but I had to make my point, here!), "then they set it out in large trays. Then do you know what happens? Do you know, Elise?"
"Um, people eat it?"
"PEOPLE EAT IT! They line up for it like horses at a trough. They breathe on it, they stick their disgusting, unwashed, money-dirtied meat hooks in MY food and shovel pounds of that shit on to their plate, then stick the disgusting used spoon back into the slop for the next mouth-breathing, slack-jawed yokel to have his go at it. And this goes on, all day long at the good old buffet. Sure, it's only ten bucks for all you can eat, but is it worth it? I THINK NOT!"
"God, you're such a pussy. We'll go to a restaurant then." (The mouth on this woman, nowadays, I swear to god! I tried to clean up my language since the kids have become human sponges, but hers has gotten worse. I first realized there was a problem with the kids when we got a call from the principle a few months ago saying that my little, sweet, adorable Eric kept saying "down with whitey." Then he called his teacher an ass burglar… He then went on to explain to her exactly what an ass burglar was: he who burgles ass!" I’ve kept the language to a minimum since then.)
"Thank you! Fancy restaurant it is!"
We wandered around for a while looking for a place that would pass muster with my insanely high standards. We settled on some Chinese place, the name of which I can't even remember. The Stray Kitten or some shit like that, I dunno. Anyway, we got a secluded table towards the far corner of the restaurant. It was nice and quiet, still a bit too early for the dinner crowd and a little too late for the lunch crowd. It was perfect.
Elise pulled out a small notebook and pen from her purse and we began listing the facts in bullet points down the page. I used my phone to Google details of the rape. Things began coming together nicely.
The timeline we were able to form was basic and desperately in need of some filling in, but it was a good enough starting point.
Late Monday night, Balls and Vincent return to their hotel, intoxicated, and sit at a blackjack table, where they pretty much spend the rest of the night, the money fluctuating from high to low and back again, until Balls hits a losing streak and decides to take a breather. He gets up, presumably goes to the elevator, taking it to his floor, and then, according to the data provided from the computerized door locks, enters his room where he eventually dies.
Now, according to the article I am reading about the rape, it says the victim was abducted from the Myra Hotel in the early morning of Tuesday, December ninth, the same day that our victim died. The article doesn't feature too many more facts and is pretty vague about the story telling. I have a feeling a lot of it was kept under wraps from the hotel. It does, however, state that the investigating officer is named Clint Howard (I assume it's not THEE Clint Howard) and he is still working on the case. He would be our next lead. We needed to track him down. I also needed to find out the name of the hotel's house dick and speak with him. He woul
d have been involved in both cases and could possibly offer up the most assistance, if he was willing.
Our food arrived and Elise buried herself in it like she hadn't eaten since August. I ate my food like a human.
11.
We arrived at the LVPD shortly after finishing our lupper. Or linner. Or Lunchy McDinner. Whichever. Turns out, Detective Howard was in the building. We explained our situation to the front desk and the homely old lady allowed us to take a brief meeting with him. Five minutes later we are sitting in a stereotypical detective's office, before us sits a rather non-stereotypical detective. He is rail thin, with longer than your average cops hair, no mustache. No ashtray on his desk, no stray papers. He had a clean look about him and his clean shave made him appear much younger than I suspect he really way. The craziest thing about him, though was that he was polite. No hard-assness to him. It was a refreshing change from what I was used to dealing with.
"How may I help you folks?" he asked, standing up and reaching across his desk to shake our hands. "I'm Detective Clint Howard by the way."
"Big fan of your work. I met you at a Fangoria convention probably seven years ago. You look different..."
"Oh yes, the infamous Clint Howard," he said, with a good humored smile on his face. "I wish. I wish."
"Thanks for not being offended by my lame joke," I said. "I'm used to the Bakersfield PD. Shit like that will get your shot over there."
"I've been through Bakersfield many a time. So what's on your mind?"
The food had apparently cured Elise from her hangover as she took her usual cue to interrupt me and take over the conversation. "My name is Elise, and this is Archie. We were hired to work a case about a young man who died last Tuesday morning at the Myra Hotel and Casino. We understand that you were there that day, perhaps on two occasions?"
"Would this be the man who was killed while, pardon me, ma'am, but while he was diddling himself with the belt around his neck?"
"Yes, that would be him."
"I was not involved in that case. It appeared to be an accident. In fact, I didn't arrive at that hotel until much later that day, working on a rather nasty case."
"That's right," Elise said. "I got my facts mixed up. You showed up on Tuesday afternoon after the rape victim was found in the vacant lot, yes?"
"Oh, so you know about her? Terrible thing. Terrible. That poor girl."
"I couldn't agree with you more. But, you see, sir, we were hired by a friend of the boy who was killed. He claims the victim would never, ever do something like that. This boy had a bright future. He had a 165 IQ and was a recent Harvard Graduate. On top of that, him and his friend had just sold a movie script. They were in Las Vegas to celebrate."
"Well, as I recall, this was never ruled a suicide. Yes?"
"Yes, that’s right, but our client still doesn't believe the scene fits his friends, how do I say, personality."
"I see."
"Trust me," I interrupted, "If there was even a chance of this being a suicide, we certainly would not be here. I have no sympathy for grown-ass men who kill themselves. Seriously, like, you want to kill yourself? Good. Fine. Don’t be such a pussy about it, though. Throw on a makeshift costume and go fight crime- be a superhero for a day. Get your ass killed that way, while doing the world some good and being a badass, not while sitting at home being selfish and lame." Blank stares across the board. "Um, ya know, that’s just my…own...personal…" I trailed off and Elise eventually recused me, acting as if I had never spoken and picking up the conversation directly where Howard had left it.
"Yes, so we were hired to come down here and take a look. This guy over here," pointing to me, of course, "has a pretty good eye when it comes to these kinds of things. And no disrespect to you or your department, of course, but our client just wanted someone with unlimited time to take a good hard look at the case and see if anything was, perhaps, overlooked."
"I'll help you all I can, but like I said, I wasn't even there at that time."
"I know, but maybe you can help us with something else."
I took over, "Sir, our victim died on Tuesday morning, the same morning that the woman was taken from the hotel, beaten, raped and left for dead. We talked to the head of security, and while I didn't get exactly which floor the woman got off on, I do know that our victim and your victim used the same elevator. The way they're set up there is one elevator is assigned a certain number of floors, as I'm sure you're aware. It speeds things up a bit, for which I am quite grateful. Elevators aren't exactly my...thing. Anyway. We think it's too big of a coincidence to ignore, that both victims used the same elevator, on the same morning, within the vague timeframe. If you would be able to help us narrow down some times, maybe we could get the ball rolling on our case, and it may help you with yours."
"I'm sorry, but I can't share details of a pending investigation with anyone. I know you are trying to help, but it's just something I cannot do. I am working the case, along with our sex crimes division, and we are not at liberty-"
"I understand. What if we were hired to work the rape case?"
"I don't understand."
"What if we got the hotel to hire us? Me and her, to help work it. They're in the process of being sued by the victim and they need all the help they can get. If we get hired by them, would you be willing to share information with us to help figure this whole thing out?"
Elise gave me a look. I knew exactly what she was thinking. We didn't have time for this, and how in the hell could we solve a rape case that the entire Las Vegas PD was working on. It was a long shot, I knew it, but it was worth a try. I gave Elise a nod. We both turned back to the detective.
"Look," I continued. "It's a win-win for you. If we don't solve anything, you're out nothing, and if we do come up with something or even solve it, we give you the arrest. It's all you. We don't need fame or publicity; we just need our cases closed so we can move on to the next. We're good, sir. I can promise you that."
He sat silently at his desk for a few moments, contemplating his decision. Finally, he agreed.
"You've got a deal. But! But, you have to get yourself officially hired on, on the hotel's behalf."
"Deal."
We stood up to make our exit. I handed the detective one of my cards and assured him he would be hearing from us very soon. He gave us a friendly nod and we were out the door. Back to da hotel!
12.
We returned to the front desk of our crappy, over-rated hotel and again asked to speak to Mr. Adams in security. He was still on duty, luckily for us. We took a brief meeting with him and spelled out our situation. He agreed to let us meet the in-house detective. Things were looking up.
We were lead down a corridor of offices completely hidden amongst the hotel's walls, and were told to take a seat in a small, cluttered office. We heard our detective being paged. Fifteen minutes later the door opened and in walked the house dick.
"Hello, my name is Garret Mulroney, how can I help you two?"
"Hello sir," Elise said. "My name is Elise, this is Archie. He is a private investigator from Bakersfield, I'm his assistant."
"Partner," I interrupted. I flashed him my license.
"Partner, assistant, whatever, right?" Elise tacked on. "We're here working a death that was ruled accidental and we kind of stumbled upon another case that we believe may be intertwined with our own. We understand you had a rather nasty allegation of a rape and abduction having occurred here?"
"Yeah, that's right. Some lady is saying she was abducted from our hotel, but we're calling bullshit on it. We think it's a scam. We pretty much think everything is a scam."
"Understandable," Elise said, with a faint smile upon her face, but I could tell what was really going on behind it. She wanted to gouge this cocky asshole's eyes out and spit in the sockets. Another typical case of making the victim the suspect. We do it in our profession, but it's a whole other thing when the victim is raped, beaten, left for
dead and only discovered upon pure chance. She continued, "but we were wondering if perhaps you could take us on, maybe allow us to work both cases? Security has already granted us access to our client's victim's room, but the coincidence of both events occurring on the same day, around the same time, is just too great for us to ignore. We really feel like we would be a great asset to your team."
"Well," Mulroney said, "I don't have a team. It's just me and I'm in charge of this hotel, and I think I do a pretty goddamn good job at it. We're being sued by this lady, ya know. Like it was our fault. Nonetheless, I still have to get to the bottom of it. I don't have the time or the energy to babysit you two. I can't just go-"
I interrupted, "We'll do it pro-bono. You can call a detective in Bakersfield by the name of Anderson, he will vouch for us. Not only that, but whatever we find goes through you first. We solve it and you get the glory."
Stroke of Genius (Archie Lemons #3) Page 6