So Damn Lucky (Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Book 3)

by Deborah Coonts

  I turned to follow his gaze. Teddie and Christo stared at us. “For now.”

  “What’s the status of all of that?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  He spun on his heels.

  “Dane?”

  “Yeah.” He turned and looked at me. I could see the hard set to his jaw, the emerald of his eyes.

  “What do you wish?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He gave Teddie a glance, then turned and left.

  That’s where you’re wrong, Cowboy.

  ***

  “What was that about,” Teddie asked when I joined him on stage. Christo had disappeared.

  “A misunderstanding.” Grabbing his hand I pulled him over to the white baby grand sitting to the side of the stage. “Play one of your songs for me.”

  He didn’t question me further, and with a sinking heart, I knew what that meant.

  Seated next to him in front of the piano, I tumbled in a flood of memories—his hands on the keys, his side pressed to mine, his voice filling my heart. I wiped away a tear as he started to sing my song, “Lucky for Me.”

  When he finished, I rested my head on his shoulder and whispered, “I miss you, Teddie. I miss us, what we used to be.”

  He looped an arm around my shoulders. “I know,” was all he said.

  ***

  “Are all men compulsively self-absorbed?” I demanded of my father when I cornered him in the gym. “Is there an antidote to gross stupidity, or is it an incurable part of the Curse of the Y Chromosome?”

  My father wiped the sweat from his face with a towel. “I think I’m finished here,” he said to his trainer who retreated, leaving us alone. “Do you want a short answer or an explanation,” he asked me.

  “Both, but make it short and sweet. I have to meet Teddie out front in a few minutes.”

  Understanding dawned on his face, but he was kind enough to hide his pity. “Yes to the first question. No to the second—when it comes to women, stupidity is genetically imprinted on the male of the species. And sometimes you have to give up something before you appreciate what you had.”

  “You’re good,” I remarked, impressed with his ability to be succinct, yet miss nothing. My anger ebbed as I sat beside him on the bench. “I don’t know what’s between Teddie and me anymore—we started as friends, then it turned all sizzle and burn—that’s a weekend, not a life.”

  “Maybe so,” my father said. “But it’s a start.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Do you love him?”

  “I think so… or at least, I thought so. Although, at the moment, I’ve forgotten why.”

  “Honey, when you’re in love, when it’s the real deal, you don’t think so, you know so. But, regardless, when you know what you want, insist on it.”

  ***

  Teddie waited next to the Ferrari when I pushed through the front doors and into the day. The sun felt warm, reassuring, on my skin as I slid behind the wheel. “How did things finish up with Christo?” I asked as he slid in next to me. “Is the show doing well?” I pressed the start button, hit the paddle shifter, and stomped on the accelerator.

  Teddie grabbed for the door handle as I wheeled into traffic, tires screeching. “Well enough, but I’ll have to reassess when the contract is up for renewal next year.”

  “Maybe it’s time I got a new act, since you’ve taken yours on the road.” I caught Teddie looking at me out of the corner of my eye.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

  “I was agreeing with you. I brought your show to the Babylon and you’re not there anymore—perhaps it’s time to reassess. Ticket sales are down slightly since you left. However, now is certainly not the time to think about it. We’ve got to meet Mr. Mortimer and Romeo at the Athena.”

  Teddie watched me whip the car in and out of traffic. “Somehow, I get the impression we aren’t talking about my show any more.”

  I hit the button for the CD player and was rewarded with the soothing voice of Luis Miguel. Turning up the volume, I blocked out the world—and the guy sitting next to me who had somehow decided that our life really was all about him.

  ***

  Romeo waited backstage at the Calliope Theatre. With one hand in his pocket, the other on his hip, and his face snapped into a frown, he stared at Houdini’s Chinese Water Torture Cell.

  “It’s too bad problems can’t be solved through osmosis,” I said, arriving at his side. Teddie hung back, fascinated with a feather contraption hanging from the rafters.

  “If they could, I’d be superfluous and life would be pretty boring,” Romeo remarked, showing a hint of wisdom beyond his years. He didn’t take his eyes off the water box.

  “You remember Ted?”

  “That man finally get his head out of his ass and come home?” Romeo remarked, his focus still on Houdini’s contraption.

  “Only until tomorrow morning,” Teddie said, his voice flat as he joined us.

  Romeo’s head snapped up. His face reddened. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were here.”

  Teddie let it go. “Is this where Mr. Fortunoff had his mishap?” he asked, stepping around the trick box.

  “I’ll be damned if I can figure out how it works,” Romeo said, throwing me a dirty look. I guess he thought I’d set him up. How was I supposed to know he felt so protective toward me?

  “Can I touch it?” Teddie asked.

  “It’s been cleared. Forensics has done all they can do.”

  Silence fell as each walked around the torture cell. I for one was trying to discern how a man locked inside could possibly escape. I assumed the others were as well.

  Insight still proved elusive when Mr. Mortimer joined us, the Great Danilov unexpectedly in tow. Out of breath, his face flushed, Mr. Mortimer didn’t look happy.

  Danilov, on the other hand, twitched like a skunk on an electrified fence, his eyes darting to the water box and back again. The skin drawn tight over the angles and planes of his face, his lips a thin taut line, dark half-moons cushioned each eye… he looked like a man stretched beyond breaking.

  “What are you looking for?” I asked the two men after I had made the introductions.

  “Answers,” Mr. Mortimer said as he glanced around the group.

  Had he come to the wrong place!

  “May I?” Mr. Mortimer asked.

  Romeo nodded. An odd look settled over his face as he watched the magician run his hands along the bottom of the box, his fingers tracing the metal track for the now absent pane of glass, his toe scuffling through the shards of tempered glass still peppering the stage.

  Danilov stood to the side and watched.

  Easing over next to him, I said, “What do you hope to find here?”

  His eyes darted to me, then away. He jammed his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I don’t remember much about the night Dimitri died. I remember touching the water torture cell. After that, things go fuzzy. I thought perhaps, being back here might trigger a memory, something important.”

  “Are you picking up any vibes?”

  He stepped to the water torture cell, touching it with a shaking hand. Closing his eyes for a moment, then he shook his head. “Nothing.”

  Teddie and Romeo watched, neither offering any comments as Mr. Mortimer finished his search and joined Danilov and me. “Find what you came for?” I asked.

  “No.” Mr. Mortimer grabbed Danilov’s arm. “Come, let’s go.”

  “I was wondering something,” I said, stopping them. “Two things actually. Who owns this thing?” I made a sweeping gesture toward the torture cell.

  “Talk to Marik Kovalenko. He can help you.”

  Marik Kovelnko; that’s the second time I’d heard that name recently. I tried to hide my surprise as I pulled the chain and Eden medallion from my pocket and held it up in the light. “Does this have any meaning to either of you?”

  Danilov gasped. “The Devil’s talisman!” he said, the words strangled. The blood r
ushed from his face. Then he collapsed in a heap.

  Romeo rushed to help him, while Teddie went in search of water.

  I kept my eyes on Mr. Mortimer.

  The magician stepped closer, his lips next to my ear. “Where did you get that?” he hissed. “That was stolen… ” He trailed off and his face closed down into a hard, angry mask. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  He gripped my arm and squeezed hard. “If I were you, I’d be looking over my shoulder.”

  I thrust the medallion at him. He fell back. Then he turned on his heel and bolted, leaving Danilov sitting on the floor with his head between his knees.

  Romeo had a steadying hand on Danilov’s shoulder when I squatted beside them.

  “May I see it?” Danilov whispered.

  I poured the chain and medal into his outstretched hand.

  “Where did you get it?” He poked at it with his index finger, flipping the medallion over.

  “From a friend,” I said, watching his face.

  “If he gave it you, he was no friend.” Danilov’s face hardened. “This will bring you nothing but misery. I should know. Several were taken from my safe the other night.”

  “Is that all the burglar took?” I asked.

  “Yes, and some papers. Nothing important.”

  “What is it?” Romeo asked, nodded at the medallion Danilov still held.

  “We used it in some of the… experiments.”

  “In Eden?” I asked.

  He nodded, as he took the glass of water from Teddie.

  “What kind of experiments?” Romeo prodded.

  “Mind games. Nothing sinister, at least not at first. We were testing clairvoyance, remote viewing, telepathic powers, that sort of thing.” Danilov pressed a shaky hand to his forehead as he gave a self-deprecating snort. “We were going to be the silent army against the Evil Empire. We were fools.”

  “What went wrong?”

  “They didn’t know when to stop. Unbeknownst to those of us in the program, they brought in an expert in posthypnotic suggestion. We were lab rats, and we didn’t even know it.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “All of us could have some suggestion, either collective or unique, implanted in our minds—a directive we aren’t even aware of. A word, or a talisman such as this,” he handed the medallion back to me, “could launch us into action.”

  “And you wouldn’t remember?”

  “No.”

  “Clever,” I said, helping him to his feet. “And terrifying. So, you could commit a murder and not remember it?”

  “It’s a possibility,” Danilov admitted. “But there’s a huge caveat: We found that only individuals who would consider murder in their conscious state could be programmed to murder in a hypnotic state.” Danilov glanced at the water torture cell then handed his glass of water back to Teddie.

  “Now that’s a real can of worms, isn’t it?” Romeo asked, his voice hard and angry. “How did you make that discovery?”

  “We turned him loose.”

  ***

  The shrill siren of a cell phone cut the tension—and scared me half-witless. Teddie rooted in his pocket, glanced at the caller’s number, then pressed the thing to his ear and said, “Hey, Mom. Everything all right?” He rose and wandered to the other side of the stage, out of earshot.

  “What do you mean, you turned him loose?” I asked Danilov, my blood running cold.

  The mentalist looked at me with bloodshot eyes. “He was one of us. He murdered another program member.”

  “And what happened?”

  “We couldn’t prove anything. We didn’t even know who did it.”

  “So the murderer walked?” Romeo asked.

  “Eden was a clandestine program at a base that didn’t exist,” Danilov said, as if that explained everything. “Now, those of us who are still in contact refer to the murderer as the Devil.”

  “That’s the name Crazy Carl used,” Teddie weighed in as he returned to stand beside me.

  I wanted to slap him. Instead I quieted him with a dirty look.

  “Carl? Carl Colson?” Danilov asked. “I thought he was dead.”

  “Why would you think that?” I asked.

  Danilov shrugged, but his eyes drifted from mine. “The program was small, most of us keep in touch at least once a year. We haven’t heard from Carl in quite a while.”

  “Who are the others?” I asked.

  “I’m not at liberty to say.” Danilov’s face closed down as he tried to muster himself. “I’ve spoken more than I should.” With Teddie holding his elbow, he pushed unsteadily to his feet. “May I go?”

  Romeo nodded. As Danilov scurried away, the young detective turned to me. “You’re holding back. Where and when did you get that medallion?”

  I waited until I was sure Danilov was out of earshot. “From Carl Colson, just this morning.”

  “The guy Ted mentioned?”

  “Yes.” I glared at Teddie. Threats had been made—and perhaps acted on—Dimitri disappeared, Danilov was clearly scared, Mortimer was angry, and Teddie had to serve Crazy Carl to them on a platter. As if Carl didn’t have enough to deal with.

  “Can this Carl help us?”

  “No. He’s given us all he can. He’s not…stable.”

  “Drugs?” Romeo asked.

  “No, devils.” If somehow Danilov was responsible for Carl’s demons…

  “What do you make of this case so far?” Romeo sounded as confused as I felt… but not nearly as angry.

  “I’m accepting the fact that a group of people with weird abilities have been seriously damaged by their participation in a program we will never be able to learn anything about—not officially anyway. I don’t know who all of them are or how they figure into our mystery, but I intend to find out.”

  “And this Devil person, what about him?”

  “A murderer perhaps, but just a man—an evil man, but nothing special. I say bring him on—men I can handle.” I glanced at Teddie as he wandered over to the trashcan to throw away Danilov’s water cup. “Well, some men, anyway.”

  Romeo grabbed my arm. “I know you fancy yourself one tough broad but, if Danilov is right, a murderer is on the prowl.”

  “Or someone sure wants us to think he is.”

  “Still…” Romeo’s eyes reflected his concern as he turned to look at me.

  “I’m not stupid.”

  Romeo raised an eyebrow at me.

  “I’ll watch my back.” I gave him a hug because I needed one. “I promise.”

  ***

  “That was Mom on the phone,” Teddie said to me as the three of us headed back toward the valet. “She and my father are at the airport. They want me to pick them up.”

  “At McCarran? Like here, in Vegas?”

  “Yeah, and they want to have dinner with the two of us and your family.”

  “My family? Teddie, you know how your father feels about me. What did he say last time? That I was a bastard child? Wasn’t that it?” I asked knowing full-well what he had said. “And you and I weren’t even dating then. Now that I’ve got the scion of the clan in my grubby clutches, blood will be spilt. And I can’t even imagine his assessment of my mother!”

  “You know what you could do to change his mind,” Teddie said.

  “No. That is out of the question.”

  Romeo looked first at one of us, then the other, his eyes growing larger with each verbal volley. Clearly his imagination was working overtime.

  “Excuse us for a minute,” I said to Romeo, as I grabbed Teddie by the arm and pulled him out of earshot. Lowering my voice, I hissed, “If your father can’t like me for who I am, then I’ll be damned before I try to earn his respect by trotting out my father. How my parentage makes me more worthy is beyond me.” I wanted to say it also made his father look like the shallow ass he was, but I bit my tongue. The man had married money and now felt entitled to look
down his nose at us working stiffs.

  “Your call,” Teddie said, conceding the point. “I’ll go get them. They can stay at my place. I’ll meet you back at yours after I get them settled.”

  “I’ll make arrangements for dinner,” I grudgingly offered—I did not want to officiate at this verbal sparing match, but I didn’t see any way to politely recuse myself. “I can’t guarantee Tigris, or even one of the lesser restaurants. The hotel is jammed, but I’ll do my best.”

  We agreed on eight o’clock.

  Maybe the Devil would find me before then—there was always hope.

  ***

  Mother had been less than pleased when I told her The Big Boss was not invited. Tigris was overbooked. Teddie needed an exorcism. The Devil wanted my soul. And I was going to have dinner with two of his minions from Hell. So far, I was batting a thousand.

  After dropping Teddie back at the Babylon, I took my time, meandering through the industrial district west of the Fifteen, heading toward a hastily arranged meeting with Marik Kovalenko. Still amazed he had agreed to see me, I kept glancing in the rearview mirror—no one was there, but I couldn’t shake the feeling someone was watching me. I was losing it. All this talk of murder and devils had me spooked.

  The magician operated out of a multistory warehouse. From the outside, no one would know the lower floors housed his extensive, multimillion-dollar magic collection and a stage on which he could refine his illusions. The living areas, complete with indoor/outdoor pool, hot tub, and million-dollar view of the Strip, comprised the upper floors.

  I was to meet him on his stage.

  As instructed, I parked the Ferrari behind the building, punched the number sequence he had given me into the keypad, and let myself in through the backdoor. Like the white light of a near-death experience, the stage beckoned me through the darkness of the warehouse.

  An elephant stood in the middle of the stage, placidly munching hay. With the feral look of a lion eyeing a kill, Marik stalked the perimeter with animal grace, barking instructions at his assistants as they moved panels and pulled curtains. Dramatic music thumped from loudspeakers. Finally, one dramatic flourish… and the elephant disappeared. Almost. His tiny tail still swished in full view.