Betting on Grace

by Salonen, Debra

  Nick knew the question was hypothetical, but it hit him harder than he would have expected. Liz was Grace’s sister. If she was the blackmailer, he wouldn’t kill her but he would arrest her. And the end result would be the same—he’d lose Grace.

  GRACE’S HAND was shaking when she knocked on the door of Charles’s suite. She wasn’t big on confrontation. When she’d been dating Shawn, she’d given him third, fourth and fifth chances to make their relationship work. Finally, Kate told her, “He’s the kind of guy who wants the woman to do all the work—even the breaking up. If he pushes you far enough, he can blame you for ending it.”

  The truth—and a couple of margaritas—had fortified Grace through that big ugly fight. Shawn had reversed her charge of infidelity. “What about you? You put your family ahead of me. Our relationship never stood a chance because you couldn’t choose the man in your life over those damn Gypsies.”

  Grace had been devastated, but time—and the myriad problems facing her family—had helped her find some perspective. And a stranger’s kiss had opened the door to new possibilities.

  Another reason she was standing at Charles’s door. Charles was a friend. He’d been a safety net, of sorts, after her breakup with Shawn. A nice man who liked to take her to great restaurants. But there was no chemistry. Nothing like the heat that passed from Nikolai’s lips to hers and made her realize she could never settle for platonic.

  Even if nothing came of her attraction to Nikolai— Lord knows there were enough obstacles on that path—he’d at least made her evaluate what she wanted out of a relationship. Grace planned to clear the air with Charles, but first, she had to break the news to him that she couldn’t finalize their partnership for another week.

  She knocked a second time, harder. An odd murmur made her lean in and call, “Charles? It’s me, Grace. Are you there?”

  She was reaching for her cell phone, when she heard the click of the lock. She waited, curious.

  The door opened a crack. The eyes that peered at her didn’t belong to a man. “Um, hello. I’m looking for Charles. Is he here?”

  The woman shook her head. Grace thought she looked familiar, but she couldn’t place the face. “Is he downstairs in his office? I should have checked there first, but he said he planned to work here today.”

  The stranger looked over her shoulder as if silently consulting someone else. The door opened a tiny bit wider. Grace could see a second woman. Both were young and dressed in short satin robes even though it was afternoon.

  It suddenly dawned on her where she’d seen the two before. The maids that Charles had hired. They were foreign, MaryAnn had said. Something about checking their documentation.

  Grace wasn’t stupid. These women hadn’t been hired to clean toilets, and the fact that they apparently were living in Charles’s suite, which only had one bed, told her he was more than their employer.

  “Well, this pretty much proves my power of ESP sucks,” she muttered. “Poor lonely Charles, my foot. He keeps not one, but two beautiful women on the side.”

  The pair exchanged a confused look, then the taller one spoke. Grace didn’t recognize the language. Nothing sounded familiar except for the word Charles.

  “Yes, Charles,” Grace said, nodding and smiling as she muscled her way into the room. What was going on? Were these women here by their own choice? The door had been unlocked so apparently he wasn’t holding them against their will, but still…something didn’t seem right.

  While not the grandest hotel suite she’d ever seen, the corner apartment was bright and tastefully decorated. Charles’s expensive lithographs from an artist Grace found too persnickety for her taste occupied every spare inch of wall.

  She marched from room to room, amazed by the mess. The Charles she knew was fastidious. The women followed, their expressions obviously worried.

  “Listen, I’m not from Immigration. I’m not a cop.”

  “Cops?” the shorter one repeated, her tone panicky.

  Grace pointed to her chest and shook her head. “Not me. Don’t like ’em. Don’t worry. They won’t hear about you from me. Okay?”

  The two looked at each other and seemed to understand her intent if not her words.

  “What are your names?”

  After a little more hand gesturing, Grace got them to say, “Lydia and Reezira.”

  “Grace,” she said, but after that had no idea what to do. She thought about calling Liz. Perhaps she could communicate with these women, find out if they were here willingly.

  But then it crossed her mind that the person to ask was Charles himself. She pulled out her phone and punched in Charles’s number. He answered on the second ring.

  “Where are you? We need to talk.”

  “In my office. I’m with someone at the moment, but give me fifteen—”

  “Will five do? I’m just leaving your suite.”

  “My suite?”

  “Yeah. You told me you’d be working at home today, remember? Guess we have different interpretations of the word work.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment. “Five minutes then.” He hung up.

  As she turned to leave, she paused to look in the small spare bedroom that Charles had converted to an office. A bank of built-in TV monitors which Grace had never seen before were tuned in to various spots around the hotel. This is new, she thought. After checking to make sure none of the camera shots included the elevators, she located the set that showed MaryAnn at her desk.

  “I wonder who he’s talking to,” she murmured, lingering to see who would exit the office.

  She didn’t have long to wait. “Nikolai. Hmm. That’s odd.” The hair on the back of her neck stood up. A sign that usually meant something bad was going to happen. No surprise there. Not only did she have to tell Charles their business deal was on hold, but she felt compelled to poke her nose into his arrangement with these women. Maybe there was a good explanation for keeping them half-dressed in his suite. But if there wasn’t…she didn’t know what she’d do. Probably go to the police, much as the idea turned her stomach.

  On the elevator ride down to the second floor, Grace gathered her courage. She knew this meeting was going to be unpleasant. MaryAnn was gone when she got there. Since Charles’s office door was open, she walked straight in.

  “So Lydia and Reezira are maids, huh?” she asked when she was seated opposite him.

  “Friends,” Charles said, in a way that made Grace stifle a shiver.

  “Really? The kind of friends who are free to come and go as they please?”

  “The kind who entered this country illegally and need a place off the street while a kindly lawyer looks into getting them green cards. Young, vulnerable girls can fall prey to all kinds of heinous endings if they’re not looked after properly.”

  His tone was patient and only slightly mocking. Grace didn’t believe him, but the girls had opened the door for her. They didn’t seem to be prisoners.

  “That’s good to know. Then you won’t care if I introduce them to Liz. She should be able to teach them a little English so they can actually get a job once they’re legal.”

  “Actually, I do mind. This is none of your business, Grace.”

  “I beg to differ. If I became your partner, and you were brought up on charges of say, kidnapping, then where would that leave me?”

  “What do you mean if we became partners? I thought you were bringing me a signed contract and a wire transfer.”

  Grace looked over his shoulder at the scene out the window. A new, multistory parking garage was under construction across the street. She wished she were there.

  “Kate has a stake in this, too. She’s hired a lawyer to handle her ex-husband’s custody claim and she wants to take the contract in for review when she sees him.”

  Charles let out a low epithet and stood up. “That doesn’t work for me, Grace. I need that money now. Preferably today.”

  Today? He hadn’t been this blunt on the phone. “Why? What�
��s the big deal? So what if we have to pay the contractor a little more? Over time, the cost would be amortized and—”

  “Typical,” he said, cutting her off. “I should have expected this kind of runaround. Your father strung me along for years. Promises, promises. When will I learn that a Gypsy’s word isn’t worth shit?”

  Grace sat back as if he’d slapped her. “My father? What does this have to do with him?”

  Charles stomped around the desk until he was standing over her. “You want the truth? It’s simple. The money in your trust account isn’t yours. It never was. It’s mine. Your father—yes, upstanding citizen that everyone thought he was—took a bribe that I arranged.”

  “No way,” Grace cried. “You’re making that up.”

  He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Our deal was fifty-fifty. Only there was this hotshot D.A. trying to earn a seat in Carson City. Ernst was a well-known gambler. For him to suddenly turn up with four or five hundred grand was no big deal. If I’d claimed the money…”

  Grace got the picture, but she still didn’t believe him. “Who would bribe my dad? And for what? He was a pit boss.”

  Charles backed off slightly. He settled his hip on the desk and crossed his arms. “During the late eighties Vegas was turned upside down by unions trying to establish a hold on the city. Ernst had a foot in each camp. The casino owners trusted him because he’d worked in the system for years. The union bosses trusted him because he had a way with people. You know that.”

  She did. Ernst was everybody’s friend, but he was also highly respected. “He wouldn’t—”

  Charles cut her off. “He negotiated a couple of deals under the table. He called it ‘finessing the situation.’ The money was a payoff for certain concessions.”

  Grace jumped to her feet. “That’s a lie. My father would never sell out.”

  Charles’s snicker sent a chill through her body. “He saw an opportunity to make some sweet money that nobody could ever trace. He even claimed the winnings and paid taxes so the IRS couldn’t come after him if someone did talk. The only problem was part of that money belonged to me.”

  “I don’t believe you. How can you prove it?”

  His face turned cold. His eyes went dead. “That’s the same thing your father said…right before I pushed him in the parking garage. He wasn’t too agile. He stumbled and fell. Hit his head on a concrete curb.”

  “No,” Grace cried, suddenly seeing the image as if it were a video being played before her eyes. “You said the stroke made him dizzy. That he stumbled before you could catch him. That was how he hit his head.”

  “I lied, but…how can you prove it?”

  Tears blurred her vision. Horror and impotence choked her. She stood there in shock until Charles grabbed her by the arm. “Listen to me, Grace. I want that money by tomorrow afternoon. For your family’s sake, you can pretend we’re still going into business together. And I’ll continue to play the game as long as you keep your mouth shut about those two…ah, ladies in my suite.”

  Grace pushed at his hand. “This was all for show, then? You only agreed to build Too Romantique because it was a way to get your hands on my trust? But what happens when the construction doesn’t take place?”

  He dropped his hold and shrugged. “Such are the pitfalls of big business, Grace. Surely you learned that much in college. Building departments reject plans. Architects make mistakes. Water mains break. Any number of problems can slow up production. It’s just part of the gamble one takes to play with the big dogs.”

  She tried to think but her mind kept going back to his threat. Her father was dead, but her family would be devastated if this revelation got out. Her mother was just starting to rebuild her life. Nobody could handle a blow like this one.

  Charles returned to his desk and sat down. “Go home, Grace. Deliberate on your options. Not that you actually have any. Your father screwed me out of my share and I’m through waiting.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  NICK CALLED Zeke from the pay phone in the lobby. “Hey, it’s me. I got a promotion. Wanna go somewhere and celebrate?”

  “Front door of the Bourbon Street. Five minutes.”

  The line went dead.

  Nick smiled. His boss wasn’t the most talkative guy he’d ever met, but even Zeke would have to show some excitement over this development. Chuck was getting desperate. Desperate men made mistakes.

  The meeting place was closer from the employee’s entrance, so Nick slipped out the back door. His mind was racing with possibilities, but he knew from experience that any number of things could go wrong. He wasn’t the type to get his hopes up.

  A nondescript sedan pulled up just as Nick reached the entrance. The passenger door opened. Nick got in.

  As the car pulled away from the curb, Zeke said, “So?”

  “Chucky’s being blackmailed. Needs a hit. Not sure who the target is, but Harmon seems to think it’s a member of Grace’s family. Might even be one of the princesses.”

  “You told him you’d do it?”

  “Of course.”

  Zeke drove for a few miles without speaking then said, “Well, this should be interesting. Turns out we’ve been invited to the compound.”

  “Invited?”

  “Okay, summoned. That queen mother is really something.”

  Nick agreed. So were her daughters. But what if Charles was right? Could Liz be the blackmailer? What would Yetta have to say about that?

  “Utterly ridiculous,” Yetta said twenty minutes later when Nick posed the question to her. The three of them were seated at Yetta’s kitchen table where he’d observed her four daughters sitting earlier that morning. “No one in my family is trying to get money from Charles Harmon. In fact, just the opposite is true. He’s been pressuring Grace to give up the money in her trust for this so-called remodeling project.”

  Nick knew that. “Wasn’t that Grace’s idea?”

  “Grace is full of ideas. Charles saw his chance and jumped at it. If you’re right about him being blackmailed, then isn’t it obvious why he needs the money?”

  Nick wondered if he was the only one who caught the irony of Grace giving Charles money to pay off another Romani.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Nikolai,” Yetta said. “And you’re wrong. If any of her sisters needed money, Grace would give it to them without question. We help each other out. That’s our way.”

  So everyone said. “Well, that may be, but Charles is convinced someone in this family knows his dirty little secret and he’s willing to kill to keep it from getting aired in public.”

  She looked at her folded hands. “It’s time to tell my daughters the truth.”

  “No,” Nick said, pushing to his feet. “Not yet.” He had no trouble picturing the look on Grace’s face when she learned not only that he’d deceived her but that he was a cop. However, risking Grace’s wrath was only part of the problem. He couldn’t jeopardize the investigation. “If word leaks, my name moves to the top of Charles’s hit list.”

  Yetta looked at Zeke. “You have to give me your word of honor that none of my daughters will be in danger.”

  The sound of a car engine in the cul-de-sac prevented Zeke from answering. Yetta rushed to the door. “It’s Grace. She looks upset. I hope she didn’t notice your car in the street.”

  She grabbed Zeke’s hand and pulled him to the side door. “Go quickly.”

  The older man disappeared like a shadow in fog.

  Nick returned to his seat while Yetta poured a cup of coffee and put it in the microwave. “She was supposed to meet Charles after lunch. I didn’t expect her back so soon.”

  A car door slammed. Grace walked in and stopped short when she spotted him. Even without special cognitive powers, Nick could tell she was upset. “Hi. I got off early. Your mom invited me over for coffee,” he said, ad-libbing.

  Grace looked at Yetta, who responded to the beep-beep-beep of the microwave. “Would you care to join us, dear? I could make
a fresh pot.”

  “No. Thank you. I…I’ll be in my house. Headache. Traffic. Gotta go.”

  She pivoted on the heel of her low-heeled shoe. Her dressy black slacks ended at midcalf. Beneath her suit jacket, the white shell she was wearing almost matched her skin tone.

  Too pale, Nick thought. Something was wrong. Very wrong. “Did you talk to the boss man today?” he asked.

  The hand holding her purse shook. She looked over her shoulder. “Y…yes. A quick business discussion.” A telltale blush crept up her neck.

  “Alexandra said you planned to tell him that Katherine’s lawyer is looking over the contract,” Yetta said as she delivered Nick’s coffee. “I’m sure he wasn’t happy. Sit down and tell us how it went.”

  Grace shook her head. “Later. I have a headache.”

  “Grace,” Yetta said sharply. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Nick took a sip of coffee, trying to stay in the background. He watched Grace over the rim of his cup and saw when she gave in. Her eyes filled with tears which she blinked away. “I don’t know what to do, Mom. I went to Charles’s suite because he told me he was going to be working at home this afternoon. He wasn’t there,” she said, swallowing loudly. “But Lydia and Reezira were.”

  Nick’s pulse spiked.

  “Who?”

  “Two young women. Charles says they’re illegal immigrants. He said he’s helping them until they get work permits, but…”

  “You don’t believe him,” Nick said. “I heard a rumor about a couple of working girls from Canada. I kind of laughed it off because Chuck comes across as such a cold fish. Who’d have guessed?”

  “This isn’t about Charles’s sex life,” Grace said. “I don’t want to get the women into trouble with the INS, but being here illegally makes them vulnerable, and men take advantage of vulnerable women.”

  Somehow he knew that applied to her, too. Now he was worried. Something happened today. Something beyond discovering prostitutes in Charles’s room.

  “So call the police,” he said, just to gauge her reaction.