Vegas Sunrise

by Fern Michaels

  “Her friend’s name is Harry.”

  “Yes, Harry. Have a safe trip, honey.”

  Birch waved as he loped off, his bags slamming against his legs.

  Celia smiled all the way back to the casino.

  Jeff Lassiter sat back in the special chair that had once belonged to his father. He propped his feet on the corner of the desk the way he’d seen his father do when his legs were working. A perfect smoke ring spiraled upward to settle over his head like a halo.

  One brother down, one brother and two sisters to go.

  As a numismatist, he couldn’t want or ask for a better job. It had come to him, literally falling in his lap. Babylon was the best place in the world to apply his profession. He wondered if anyone, including the Thornton family, knew exactly what a numismatist was or what one actually did. He’d graduated second in his class, which put him a notch above his half brother. Studying money and monetary objects was what had led Simon Thornton to him several years ago with his grand plan to wipe out Babylon. If his father and mother hadn’t clapped an iron hand on him that night along with the threat of the Internal Revenue Service, he could have been the new emperor of Las Vegas. He’d been younger then, frightened at what he knew he was capable of doing. That fear was gone now, and so was his father and his brother Simon. His mother was older and in frail health. She didn’t care what he did these days as long as her meals were on time and her game shows weren’t interrupted.

  What he needed to do now was set up a network of loyal employees and get rid of all the deadwood that might be tempted to carry tales. For weeks now, off the clock, he’d been watching, observing, taking notes. He knew the smart money on the street was already down. The odds were ten to two that he’d step into his father’s shoes. He had his own bet down across the street. With Birch out of the way there was no way he could fail. With Birch’s wife on the periphery, the odds were even more in his favor.

  Jeff wondered what Birch’s decision to go to Atlantic City would do to the odds that were so heavily in his favor. He stubbed out his cigarette. Birch Thornton didn’t interest him in the least. He had more important things to occupy his mind.

  Within minutes, Lassiter was engrossed in his charts and lists to the exclusion of all else. In his mind, his office was now called the War Room. In thirty minutes he would be hosting a meeting of electrical and mechanical engineers, systems and software designers, graphic artists, and mathematicians. Their combined object: the development of a killer game inside a perfect slot machine.

  He wanted a device that would be fast yet simple. He wanted to seduce the player with a modicum of risk, yet let the player think he was in control. He wanted near addiction but needed to stay within the bounds of legality. He wanted the player to smile as the machine gobbled up his money. Could it be done? With the right team players and the proper incentives, and he knew a thing or two about incentives, it absolutely could be done. Before long they’d be calling his device Lassiter’s Holy Grail.

  Jeff wondered if he was ahead of the pack by hooking his ideas to the MTV generation. So far he thought he was. With 70 percent of the twenty-three billion gambling take coming from the slots, it was imperative he come up with the ultimate gambling machine. To his mind it was a make-or-break situation. Flipping the dial on the television set one evening he’d watched MTV until he was dizzy with ideas. He knew when he turned off the set it was going to take more than three cherries to hook the joystick generation of MTV viewers since they got bored so easily. He needed exactly the right combination of game and gizmo with plenty of bells and whistles. He had to come up with a killer category that was better than video poker.

  His first order of business after today’s meeting was to introduce twenty-five new slot machines and take away another twenty-five. Bess and John Noble had followed through, waiting a whole year for the new game to go from concept to design to focus-group evaluation to regulatory approval to casino testing and finally onto the floor. Cost per machine, a cool two hundred grand. His baby now that the Nobles were on a round-the-world trip. In three months’ time, possibly sooner, customers would call the new slot Lassiter’s Machine. They would forget Bess and John Noble. Out of sight, out of mind.

  The buzzer on Jeff’s desk alerted him that his guests were in the conference room. He looked at his watch. He had three hours until it was time to meet Celia Thornton for dinner.

  “This was such a pleasant surprise, Adam. It isn’t often you take time off from chasing criminals to take me to lunch. In a casino no less. I don’t think my family would understand me lunching at a competitor’s casino, though,” Billie Thornton said.

  “The food’s good. My jacket safely hides my hardware. I’d like us to see more of each other, Billie. How about dinner this evening?”

  “Can’t. I took a long lunch break to be with you. We’ve been here two hours and I need another half hour to get back to the office. How about Friday?”

  “Sure. By the way, where were you yesterday? I called around lunchtime and no one knew where you were.”

  Billie’s voice was testy when she said, “Are you checking up on me, Adam?”

  “No. I wanted to take you to lunch yesterday. I’d take you every day if you’d let me. I thought I saw you on the Strip but by the time I found a parking place you were gone.”

  “It must have been someone who looked like me. Gotta go. I’m parked in the underground garage, so I have to go back inside. We’re on for Friday then?”

  “I’ll count the hours.”

  Billie stared at the man she’d been seeing off and on for almost two years. He was more than pleasant. Handsome, too, lean, and hard-muscled. He topped the growth chart at six-three. Wearing high heels, she still got a stiff neck looking up at him. She leaned closer for him to kiss her lightly. His shoulder holster pressed against her chest. “I hate guns,” she murmured.

  “I do, too,” Adam said. “If I don’t wear it, who’s going to catch the bad guys?”

  “Some other detective. No, huh. It’s a jungle out there, so be careful.”

  “Now, where have I heard that before?”

  Billie laughed. “Probably the same television show I heard it on. Bye, Adam.”

  Inside the casino, Billie looked around to get her bearings before she headed for the rest room. When she walked onto the casino floor fifteen minutes later, her own mother wouldn’t have recognized her. She headed straight for the twenty-one table. She played steadily until four-thirty, losing $26,000. She returned to the rest room and dressed in her original attire to return to the office. She’d work till eight or nine. After that she’d go home, change, and head for another casino.

  On the way back to the office, her forehead beading with sweat, she mouthed the words, “I do not have a gambling problem. I positively do not have a gambling problem.”

  Yet.

  Entering the office, Billie worked a smile onto her face. “For someone who has always brown-bagged her lunch, I’m having trouble with these four- and five-hour lunches, Billie,” Sage said. “You have at least twenty-five calls, and you missed the meeting with one of our key distributors. Maybe it’s time for you and Adam to get married. What the hell do you talk about for five hours?”

  “Things. I’ll still be here tonight when you’re getting ready for bed. What is the big problem, Sage?”

  “When you’re running a business, you need to be on the premises and keep regular working hours. You have a better rapport with these people than I do. When they call they want you, not me. I’ve been making up stories for months now.”

  Billie felt her heart start to flutter at the look in her brother’s eyes. “Maybe you should start to mind your own business. This is how I see it, this company owes me years and I mean years, of overtime and vacation time. If you don’t like the way I do things, there’s the door. I’m sick and tired of you minding my business. Do I interfere with you and Iris? No, I do not. Do you know why I don’t interfere? Because your business is your bus
iness and not mine.”

  “My personal life has nothing to do with my business life. We’re talking business here, Billie. Another thing, how does a cop get to take five-hour lunches? What the hell kind of police force do we have in this town that would permit something like that?”

  Billie knew her voice sounded lame when she said, “Adam was . . . is a workaholic like me. He’s got as much vacation and overtime accumulated as I do. Detectives have more leeway than beat cops. He’s got his beeper, pager, and cell phone with him all the time. Not that it’s any of your business, Sage.”

  Sage tried another tack. “I have this feeling, Billie, that something’s wrong. I just want to help. I’m your brother for God’s sake.”

  “Do I look like I need your help?”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  “Well, you’re wrong. I’m here now, so you can go home to your wife. When I leave here this evening, things will be caught up-to-date. I will even work on tomorrow’s schedule so you don’t get your Jockeys in a wad if I decide to go out to lunch.”

  “Iris is pregnant, Billie.”

  “That’s nice. You really should go home, Sage. Everything is fine.”

  “That’s nice. That’s all you have to say?”

  “What’s going on here, Sage? Why do I have the feeling it isn’t just me? Or is it me because you can’t attack Birch and Sunny because they’re gone. You need to be nice to Iris, so that leaves me. It’s okay; I can take it since it’s deserved. Is it Jeff Lassiter? Is it all of the above?”

  Sage sat down and fired up a cigarette. “I don’t know what it is. I’m happy Iris is pregnant. We want a boy. I’m glad Sunny went with Birch, and I’m glad she feels she can handle her end of things. I’m not real pleased with Birch, but I understand him not wanting to work with Jeff. Yeah, I like the guy. But then I liked Uncle Simon and look how he turned out. I resent Mom giving Lassiter a three-year contract. Celia stayed behind. Did you know that? Birch called this morning and asked me to look out for her. How the hell do you look out for a barracuda?”

  “No, I didn’t know Celia stayed behind.”

  “I have this feeling that something bad is going to happen. Something that’s going to affect all of us. I worry about Sunny. I’m concerned that Birch and Celia are having a problem. Iris has the morning pukes really bad. I’m not sleeping well. I’m piss-assed scared about Lassiter. I keep thinking about that stunt he pulled with Uncle Simon a couple of years ago. The guy’s a numismatist for God’s sake. He can do whatever he wants with the casino numbers. I tried talking to Mom about it, but she didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. Marcus listened, though. Then you, our rock, suddenly get fed up and start taking five-hour lunches. I’m sorry I snapped at you, Billie.”

  “How about if I cut them back to a measly two? Can you handle that? Is there anything I can do? I can call Celia, take her to lunch or dinner. I can poke around at the casino to see if I can get any feedback where Jeff is concerned. If you think you can handle things here, I can go to Atlantic City on the weekends to check on Sunny. I really think Birch can take care of himself and Sunny, too. Harry’s there, too, don’t forget that. Our lives are changing, Sage. Mom isn’t standing behind us anymore. I guess it’s time for all of us to either sink or swim on our own.” She paused, took a deep breath. “What could he do, Sage?”

  “By ‘he’ I guess you mean Jeff.” Billie nodded. “Dad had every fail-safe method known to man installed. That doesn’t mean Jeff will keep them in place. He could do a lot of things. He’s got three years to do whatever he wants. Mom gave him carte blanche. It was a mistake. If it were up to me, I’d go over there right now and boot his tail out of there and take over myself. Of course that would mean leaving you in the lurch, so to speak.”

  “Are you overreacting? Forget I even said that. Of all of us you’ve always been the most methodical, the most cautious. Why don’t we talk to Mom again, the four of us? We could get Sunny and Birch on an extension. By rights, she should have talked with us before she decided to hire Jeff. Better yet, maybe we should talk to Marcus.”

  “Let’s think about this for a few days.”

  “That sounds good. I really am happy for you and Iris, Sage. What are you going to do if she has twins? You’re a twin. You look a little green, Sage.”

  ′I wasn’t going to tell you, but it is twins. The doctor said he heard two heartbeats. I guess that’s why I’m not sleeping.”

  “Oh, Sage, it’s wonderful. Sunrise is going to jam again. Kid voices carrying down the mountain. It’s going to be just like it was when we were growing up. Do you have any idea how lucky you are? Did you tell Mom?”

  “Not yet. We will, though. I think Iris and I are still in shock.”

  “A nice kind of shock, though. Go home, Sage. I’ll be here if any problems crop up. Say hi to Iris and hug the kids.”

  “Billie . . .”

  “Go already. It’s okay.”

  Sage hugged her. “See you tomorrow. I’m going to stop by the casino to get Celia’s phone number and address. I’ll give her a call. Mom might want to invite her out to the house or something.”

  “Or something,” Billie said as she shoved him out the door.

  Billie locked the office door. She was shaking when she sat down behind her desk. She hadn’t counted on Sage being so astute and outspoken. She pulled the adding machine closer. From her locked desk drawer she withdrew a small yellow notebook and began to feed the numbers to the machine in front of her. The tally at the end of the strip of paper turned her face white. She leaned back in the deep comfortable desk chair, drawing her knees close to her chest, and cried as if her heart would break.

  “Nice seeing you again, Mr. Thornton,” the desk clerk said.

  Sage smiled. “How’s your family, Myra?”

  “We’re all good. And yours?”

  “Couldn’t be better. Do you have Celia Thornton’s phone and address? I promised my brother I’d pick it up.”

  “I have it already, Mr. Thornton. If you’re looking for Mrs. Thornton, she’s here in the casino. I saw her a little while ago when I took a message out to the floor for one of the customers. She was heading toward the office.”

  “Thanks, Myra.”

  Sage pocketed the envelope. Should he go to the office or shouldn’t he? What the hell, he was here. A little family nicety might help Birch. He looked at his watch—twenty minutes past five.

  It was ten minutes to six when Sage finally made his way across the floor, stopping to shake hands with pit bosses and money changers. He stood outside the door of the office, remembering the day he’d walked out of the casino for the last time. He’d never forget the awful look on Birch’s face that day. Time and life didn’t stand still for anyone. He was about to knock on the door when he heard low, intimate laughter from inside. He jammed his hands in his pockets. Leave? Stay? What did that laughter mean? They, and exactly who was the they? As if he didn’t know. Jeff and Celia must be standing right next to the door. He was about to leave when he heard his half brother say, “There is a room here that no one ever uses. My father kept it for himself. Out of respect for him they never assigned the room. It’s at the end of the hall on the seventh floor. There is no master key, so you can stay there and no one will be the wiser. Room 719. You’ll be on your own as far as housekeeping goes. Actually, it’s a suite. My father, in case you haven’t heard, was a lady’s man.”

  Sage swallowed, his tongue thick and dry in his mouth. What the hell was going on here? Room 719? How did Lassiter know about Room 719? To his knowledge only Birch, Sunny, and he knew. He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think his mother knew. No master key, my ass. There was a master key to everything. Sunny had turned her key ring over to him the day she moved to Sunrise. His father had given his set to his mother the day Fanny had taken over the management of Babylon.

  Sage walked back to the registration desk. “Myra, do we ever rent out Room 719?”

  “No, Mr. Thornton. That was one of y
our father’s strictest orders. To my knowledge, they have never rented it. It’s never been used, even when we’re at a hundred percent capacity. There’s no key here. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a key to that room. If I’m not mistaken, it has a special lock of some sort. Your mother or Mrs. Noble might know.”

  “It’s not important. Thanks, Myra.”

  Sage walked over to one of the house phones. He identified himself before he asked the hotel operator to place a long-distance call, person to person, to the rehab center in Cape May for Sunny Thornton Ford. A wave of dizziness swept over him when he heard his sister’s voice.

  “Sunny, it’s me, Sage. Listen, I want to tell you something, and I want to ask you something. This is just between us, okay? Did you have a key to Room 719? Did Mom have one? You’re sure? Did she know what it was for? Think, Sunny. Hell yes it’s important; otherwise, I wouldn’t be calling. Listen up.”

  Sage held the phone away from his ear at Sunny’s furious squawking. “You actually took dad’s card key and put it in the back pocket of Dad’s spare wheelchair that’s in the garage. You taped it there. Good girl, Sunny. I don’t know what I’m going to do. Not a word. Of course I’ll let you know. I know you hate her. I’m not sure I like her myself. For Birch’s sake I’m going to try very hard to like her. Are you feeling okay, kiddo? Good. How’s Harry? All right. Don’t overdo it. If you need me, call. I’ll let you know when I know what’s going on. To use your favorite phrase, damn straight something is going on. Bye, Sunny. Hey, don’t mention this call to Birch, okay.”

  Sage turned when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. “Neal, how’s it going?”

  The floor manager wore a tight expression when he said, “I was going to ask you the same question.”