by Don Potter
“He was available and was willing to take care of you and me.”
“And you think you made the right decision?”
“Now that his mother has died, I’m certain it was the right move. She left him plenty of money.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know yet, but his father was a millionaire. And when he died five years ago Bill got enough to buy this house and to live pretty well even though he doesn’t have a high paying job.
“He’s cheap too,” Emily added.
“Just like his mother. That’s why I’m sure there’s plenty of money with his name on it.”
“What good does it do us if he’s not willing to spend it?”
“You’re a little young to know about this, but California is a community property state. That means half of what’s his is mine and vice versa. Since I have no assets, so if we divorce everything is split down the middle. And, if there’s as much coming to him as I think, the divorce will be happening sooner than later.”
“You’re so smart, Mom. How soon is soon?”
“Let me worry about that. First we wait for the Will to be read. In the meantime, you know what you have to do.”
“Don’t talk back, wash the dishes, and take care of the dog – including cleaning up the poop.”
“That’s my girl. Now I’m going to get something to take home to Bill, so he won’t go flying off the handle about me not having dinner ready for him tonight.”
“So what have you ladies been up to?” Bill asked. His tone indicated his displeasure. He clutched a drink in his hand. It was not his first of the evening. “Emily, take your dog for a walk. I want to speak to your mother. Alone.”
“But...”
“Remember what we talked about,” Sharon said.
“Oh, all right.” Emily stormed out taking the dog with her.
“They found Vivian murdered in her condo.” Bill blurted out the news as if this is what was affecting his mood.
“Do they know who did it? When did it happen? Did you get any of the details?”
“The cops told us very little. Guess they’re still gathering evidence and talking to people. Best place to find out about it is the newspaper, especially the Daily News. I’ll pick it up tomorrow because nothing made the paper today,” Bill said.
“Is this what’s bothering you?”
“Well, on top of my mother’s death Vivian’s murder sorta put me over the top. That’s why I don’t need any backtalk or anything else that will disturb me. Got it?”
“I understand, but you don’t have to take it out on your family. By the way, Emily and I had a bite at the Cheesecake Factory. So I brought you that chicken salad you like. Why don’t you sit down and enjoy it? A little comfort food can’t hurt.”
“Not now. I need to have a couple of drinks to relax. Then I might eat. We’ll see.”
“But I thought...”
“I said no backtalk or anything else that will disturb me. You’re disturbing me.”
Sharon headed for the bedroom.
Bill embraced his drink with both hands and shouted after her, “If I can’t have respect around here then you’re just going to be made to fear me. Either way, I intend to be the ‘king of my castle.’”
The police were at the office when Bill arrived with both local newspapers under his arms. He rushed through the front two sections of both publications. Both had articles about the murders of two Valley women over the weekend. He relished reading the accounts but dared not cut out the articles lest he be connected with both crimes if they were discovered.
“Good morning,” the female detective said as she entered Bill’s tiny inside office. “Do you have any reason to believe someone might wish to harm your boss?”
“No. None at all. Vivian was a demanding manager, but most employees would agree she was fair. I don’t know about her relationships outside the office.”
“How did she treat you? Was she fair?
“Overall I’d say she was fair to me.”
“I understand you were working here late Friday and on Saturday and Sunday as well. Why was that?”
“There was a report that needed to be completed for Monday morning. Vivian asked me to put it together for her.”
“Because she didn’t like your original work?”
“What makes you think that?”
“We have interviewed everyone in this office. People don’t want to talk to homicide detectives at first, but once they start they tell us everything.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Most folks are so anxious to get off the suspect or even witness lists they dump everything they know as fast as they can.”
“I’m sure you heard all the typical office gossip, but you can’t be suggesting that one of the employees is to blame for Vivian’s death?”
“That’s what we intend to confirm or deny. By the way, when was the last time you had a job evaluation?”
“About a year ago. Why?” He knew why. It was the transfer recommendation in Vivian’s desk drawer, but he could not let the detective know that he knew about it.
The phone rang. The Caller ID showed it was his attorney. “I’ve got to take this. It’s regarding my mother’s death. She passed away over the weekend.”
“I know. I’ll talk with you later,” the detective said and left.
“What’s up Stevie?”
“As you asked yesterday, I did a quick review of your mother’s assets. You’re about to be a wealthy man.”
“How wealthy?”
“Try ten million dollars or so.”
“How soon can I get my hands on it?”
“We have the formalities to go through, but it normally takes six months or more, particularly with so much money involved. But you don’t have to worry. It’s all in trust, and you’re the sole beneficiary. Just relax.”
“I need to get my hands on the money.”
“Well you can borrow against the inheritance if you’re short on cash.”
“Okay. I want to get the maximum amount I can get as soon as I can get it.”
“I think this is a bit hasty.”
“Think what you like. I’m not asking for your advice. Do what I want or I’ll hire someone who will.”
“Sure, sure. I was just trying to help.”
“You can help by making this happen for me. How soon can you get back to me with the numbers?”
“A couple of days.”
“Do it by four today if you want to keep working for me.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I expect nothing less.”
The plan that Bill devised overnight was now in play. He knew it would be fast and intended to enjoy the ride to the end, which could be very soon.
Bill met with his attorney several times to formalize the elements of the plan. And since there were no new developments in either of the murder cases, it was his signal to make reservations for a long weekend in Las Vegas. He had borrowed against his inheritance and was carrying nearly one hundred thousand dollars in Traveler’s Checks. Before closing his suitcase, Bill packed a gun, which he kept locked up in the garage, knowing luggage was not searched in the private plane section of airports. Soon he was aboard a chartered jet at Van Nuys airport, and in less than an hour was walking through the General Aviation terminal at McCarran Airport.
A uniformed limo driver waited holding a small sign with Bill’s last name on it. The man took the luggage and opened the door for his passenger to climb into the Lincoln Town Car.
“The Venetian. Right, sir?”
“Yes,” Bill replied. He settled into the luxurious back seat of the vehicle for the short trip to the famous Las Vegas Strip, where the hotel was located.
Bill was directed to the VIP receptionist and soon was escorted to the top floor of the all-site hotel. His accommodations were impressive: Three-thousand square feet with two bedrooms a massive living room and more, all overlooking Las Vegas Boulevard thirty-six stories below.
&n
bsp; He unpacked, put his clothes away, and stuffed the unloaded 9 mm hand gun in his jacket pocket. Bill went down to the casino. Since his credit had been established upon arrival, Bill merely had to sign his name to get whatever amount of chips he wanted.
“Give me three-thousands in hundred dollar chips,” he said to the cashier.
“That’s thirty chips, sir.” She pushed three short stacks of ten chips each through the cage. “Good luck.”
Bill found a table he liked, laid the black chips on the railing in front of him, and placed one on the pass line. He followed the initial roll with another chip behind the line and began to place hundred dollar bets on specific numbers. After a few rolls, Bill had a thousand dollars in play and lost it all when the shooter rolled a seven.
A couple of more rounds with similar results left him in need of more chips. Armed with another thirty chips, Bill tried his luck at roulette and high-stakes blackjack. Within an hour he was chipless.
“Time to hit the bar,” he announced to the others at the table.
“The girls will be happy to bring you a drink, sir,” the dealer said.
“No thanks. I need to relax a few minutes in hopes that my luck will be restored. Maybe a little keno will get me back on the winning track.” Bill walked away.
As he was ordering a second Johnnie Walker, a beautiful impeccably-dressed blonde approached his table.
“Mind if I join you? My luck must have gone the way yours did. Can’t win for losing,” she said.
“Sit down. What are you drinking?”
“Vodka and tonic.”
“And a vodka and tonic for the lady,” he said to the cocktail waitress.
“My name is Kitty. What’s yours?” she asked and slid the pashmina off her shoulders to reveal ample breasts barely hidden under the low-cut dress.
“Bill’s my name, but how did you know I lost big-time out there?” He gestured to the sprawling casino in front of them.
“I was standing by the craps table when you made those bold bets. And I saw you again when you were playing roulette. You stopped and changed to blackjack, so I watched until you left. I followed you over here because I had tried several games earlier with the same kind of results. Thought we might commiserate or something.”
“You were stalking me?”
“Nothing like that, I just thought...”
“Forget about it, Kitty. I’m just pulling your leg.” He reached over and grabbed her leg as if to pull it.
“Not here, Bill. You never know who might be watching.”
“I’m staying here,” he said.
“What are we waiting for?”
He signed the check and they headed for the elevators arm in arm. Bill showed his room card to the security guard and the elevator whisked them to the top floor.
Kitty was openly impressed with the penthouse suite and assumed she had hooked up with a high-roller. This meant she could play it cool and not get into the price discussion until after she had completely satisfied him.
“What do you say to that?” She asked the question after an hour of sex in which she used all the tricks she knew from being a well-paid hooker working the better hotels in ‘Sin City.’ It was time for the payoff.
“Maybe the best I ever had.”
“Well that means it must be worth ten of those little black chips to you.”
“I don’t have any chips. I lost them all.”
“That’s all right. I accept cash.” She laughed.
Bill flew into an instant rage and had his hands around her neck. She fought back, but he won. Her body went limp as the last breath left her. He wrapped the body in the sheet and put it in a closet. What to do with her could wait until later.
The taking of this woman’s life was easy, so easy for him. Bill wondered how many more might die before he was caught. But whatever happens he would not let them take away his freedom.
Bill returned to the casino and went through the same routine as before. Again he lost most of his initial investment but skipped roulette this time. He clutched the remaining chips in his left hand.
Not long after finding a seat in the bar, another woman came on to him with a pitch similar to the one used by the first hooker.
“Let’s go to your room,” the woman said.
“Sure. Why not?”
As the reached the security checkpoint, a man in a suit and holding a walkie-talkie came up to Bill.
“Would you mind stepping over here, sir?” The question was obviously a command and Bill walked to where he pointed. Two armed uniformed guards followed.
Before anyone spoke, Bill reached in his jacket pocket then quickly pulled out his hand. He brandished a gun. The officers drew their weapons and fired.
Bill fell to the floor in a heap amidst the sound of screams. His hand released the gun as he lay dying. The seven black one-hundred dollar chips he held in his other hand scattered onto the floor. They were soon met by the dead man’s blood.
“So tell me the whole story,” Sharon said to Bill’s attorney prior to the reading of his Will.
“It’s really strange. Everything happened so fast. The police say Bill killed the woman he met at Kate Mantilini’s bar.”
“How do they know he did it?” She asked in the indignant tone of a disbelieving wife.
“His prints were all over the condo and his DNA showed up in...well; let’s say...the expected places. And the bruises on her throat marks were made by his hands. Plus people saw them together at the bar. There’s no doubt he did it.”
“But why?”
“He just went off the deep end. It happens. Was he acting different at home?”
“Not before the murders, but he began to be aggressive and more demanding afterward. Like he wanted to be in charge.”
“Thank God he didn’t take out his pent up emotions on Emily or you.”
“What about Vivian, his boss?”
“Seems she was riding him pretty hard and planned to transfer him out of the department. Bill hit Vivian with the note books that contained the report he was working on then finished her off with a scarf.”
“What really happened in Vegas?” Sharon wanted to know everything.
“The hotel security people know the hookers that work the casino bars. Keeping tabs on them is easier than trying to keep them out. Besides the gamblers like them around, it adds to the excitement.”
“Disgusting.”
“Anyway, when Bill takes one upstairs and he comes down before her, security sees a need to check his room. They find the woman’s body and immediately form a net around him. When he tries to take the second woman to his room Bill is confronted at the elevator checkpoint. He flashes a gun, turns out that it wasn’t loaded, and they shoot him. That’s the whole story.”
“Surely he had nothing to do with his mother’s death?”
“Nothing to do with the stroke, but some say he was a little too fast to pull the plug. That’s pure speculation. No way to prove it.”
“That’s good,” she exclaimed.
“But it may not be so good for you, Sharon.”
“What are you saying?”
“You see, your husband was the sole heir to his mother’s estate – worth about ten million dollars.”
“I had no idea.” Sharon tried to play the role of concerned wife rather than someone who could not wait to get her hands on the money.
“Bill did something before going to Vegas and getting himself killed. You could say he committed suicide by cops, but there’s really no way to know for sure.”
“You were saying he did something.”
“Yes, he changed his Will. You get the house and that’s all. He left everything else to a defense fund that he established for men with difficulties: those going through divorce or are being tried for murdering the spouse and need legal aid.”
“Very funny.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I’m the wife, so half of everything is mine. For the other half we
’re just going to have to go to court.”
“Community property works in divorce cases. Even so, inheritance is not included in the pooled funds. You two were still married and there’s nothing that says he couldn’t do what he wanted with his inherited assets.”
“You can fight this for me.”
“Sorry, but I’m the administrator of the defense fund and its investment portfolio. So I can’t help you.”
“I feel absolutely powerless,” she cried.
“That’s what Bill said to me just before he snapped.”
GEMINI
The routine never varied. First the phone call. Followed by a coded email describing the assignment. Then confirmation of the money transfer. After that retrieve the project package. Study the files. Select the appropriate time and place. Eliminate the mark.
This time was no different.
Casey was an assassin. Her work was considered among the best by those who know about such things. Only the very rich and extremely powerful with a need for absolute secrecy qualified for her services. Otherwise, they could have a ‘hit’ made for a few thousand dollars or less by any number of hoodlum resources. She, on the other hand, could make the death appear to be an accident and in some cases natural. No one knew her identity; she was known only by her code name and had a reputation for always completing assignments on time without any loose ends. Thus the extremely high price tag for her services.
The solitude associated with her line of work exacerbated Casey’s state of loneliness. Worse yet, the targets were no longer simply numbers. They had become names with faces. Maybe it was time to get out; she would consider this after wrapping up this job.
Casey made a cup of tea and opened the large plain brown envelope, which had been waiting for her at the central post office. After placing the contents of the package on the bed, she sat cross-legged in the middle and began to sort through the material.
The first page summarized the project. The last line on the page was in bold type. COMPLETE BEFORE JUNE 17th.
“It’s hard to believe that I’m the key witness in a grand jury investigation,” Polly said to her ex-husband. “I’m not supposed to discuss my role in the investigation with anyone. But I can’t keep it all inside or I’ll explode.”