by Vickie Fee
Chapter Eleven
Mama called to tell me that Earl had inquired at the Italian restaurant in the hotel, just to see if they could accommodate a party of nine on short notice. It so happened they’d had a cancellation.
In a few minutes, Di and I knocked on Mama’s door and the three of us went downstairs to meet the others. We were seated almost immediately, even though a couple of members of our party had not yet arrived.
We had already ordered drinks and appetizers when Uncle Junior and Dave came in. Uncle Junior had gotten in to see his son, and also had talked with Little Junior’s attorney.
The case against Little Junior as my uncle understood it was that there was bad blood between Little Junior and the deceased. They had both dated the same woman, albeit at different times, but they had had a public altercation at the chapel just two days before the murder. He had been at the chapel at the time of Steve’s death. And the police seemed to think it was significant that Little Junior had stopped by the chapel a couple of times in the past week inquiring about the status of his application for a job as an Elvis minister. The implication being, with Steve out of the way, he’d have a good chance at getting the job. Also the only fingerprints on the flask containing the poison, besides Steve’s, were Little Junior’s.
I had to interrupt at this point.
“Uncle Junior, the only reason Little Junior’s prints were on that flask was because it fell off the pedestal when he moved the flowers and he reached down and picked it up without thinking. The cop who was there saw it. Does he really think Little Junior would have put his prints on the flask if he was the one who had put poison in it?”
Dave jumped in. “The police contend it’s possible that Little Junior was trying to remove evidence when he went up to get the flowers. He could have accidentally knocked the flask off in the process. Or, he could have known his prints were on the flask and wanted a cop to see him have a plausible reason for picking up the flask—to cover his tracks.”
“That’s asinine,” my father-in-law said.
“Wayne’s right,” Mama said. “The whole thing’s ridiculous. They’re railroading Little Junior without a speck of real evidence.”
“Do they know what kind of poison it was? Is it something easy to get a hold of?” Di said, looking to Uncle Junior. But Dave responded.
“According to my buddy at the LVMPD, you can get anything you want in Vegas if you know who to ask. But they have determined the poison. It was sodium cyanide, which is present in a number of accessible products, including certain photo chemicals.”
Di and I exchanged a brief glance, but neither of us said anything.
Dinner was delicious. I had the Alfredo and Larry Joe had the marinara with meatballs. And, feeling generally bummed out by the state of Little Junior’s detainment, we ate dinner in relative quiet and finished off four bottles of red wine.
After dinner, as we were walking out, I said quietly to Di, “We need to take a closer look at Gordy tomorrow.”
“I agree. But surely the cops are checking into him after what Dave said about the poison in photo chemicals.”
“I don’t know. They don’t seem very motivated about looking at any suspects other than Little Junior.”
After hearing the less than encouraging news at dinner about Little Junior’s case, Larry Joe and I went straight upstairs. The siren call of the slot machines held no appeal as we walked past the casino. In our room, there was little conversation as we got ready for bed. Face washed, teeth brushed, and nightshirt on, I wearily climbed into bed next to my snoring husband.
I’m not sure exactly what time I drifted off, but I know exactly when I woke up. The landline on the nightstand rang, jolting me out of a deep sleep. I looked at the alarm clock. It was 2:37 a.m. when I answered the phone.
“Liv, your Uncle Junior is having chest pains,” Earl said. “He called the front desk, before he called us. An ambulance just arrived and paramedics are loading him up now. Your mama and I are going to follow in a taxi. You two can meet us there in the emergency room. They said they’re transporting him to Sunrise Hospital and Medical Center. We’ll call you, of course, with any news.”
“What’s wrong?” Larry Joe said, looking at me bleary eyed.
“We’ve got to get up. Uncle Junior’s on his way to the hospital with chest pains.”
Larry Joe rolled out of bed and pulled on the pants he’d left lying across the armchair.
“Honey, I swear, my heart almost stopped when I heard Earl’s voice on the phone. I just knew something had happened to Mama. But she had told us she was worried Uncle Junior’s heart wouldn’t be able to handle all this.”
We both got dressed in a hurry, and as we were about to leave, Larry Joe asked, “Should we let Daddy and Mama know what’s happening?”
“No, let’s not wake them. They’ll be up by about five anyway. We can call them then. With any luck, we’ll be able to tell them Uncle Junior just had a bad case of indigestion.”
In the elevator as we were descending to the lobby, Larry Joe asked, “Do you know the name of the hospital and the address?”
“Earl said it was Sunrise Hospital. The taxi driver should know where it is.”
After a short ride, the taxi turned beside a sign that said TRAUMA EMERGENCY and pulled up to the entrance. Larry Joe handed him some cash and the driver told us he hoped everything turned out okay.
So did I.
The automatic doors slid open as we approached. The waiting room was furnished with rows of uncomfortable-looking chairs, more than half of them occupied. I spotted Mama pacing the tiled floor.
“Mama,” I said, walking over and wrapping my arms around her. “Any news?”
“No, and they won’t let me go back and be with him. I already tried to slip back there twice, but a burly nurse with an attitude stopped me—aided and abetted by Earl Daniels,” she said, shooting Earl a peeved look.
Earl just shook his head.
“They’re probably running tests, Mama. We’d just be in the way right now,” I said. “Why don’t you sit down?”
“I’m too dang antsy to sit.”
“You getting swollen ankles isn’t going to help Uncle Junior any.”
“Liv’s right, hon,” Earl said.
She just shot him an indignant look.
“Earl, let’s find the vending machine and get some coffee for all of us,” Larry Joe said, getting up from his chair. Earl followed.
I tugged at Mama’s hand and she reluctantly took a seat beside me.
“Earl’s just trying to look after you.”
“I know it. But what I need him to do is make those people at the desk tell us something.”
“I know you’re anxious. But there’s probably nothing to tell just yet.”
Mama sat quietly, which is unusual for her. Every minute or two I could see her cutting her eyes up and over to the clock on the wall.
The men returned and handed us disposable coffee cups, already sugared and creamed the way we liked them.
About thirty minutes later, a nurse came through the door and called, “Mrs. Walford.”
Mama leapt to her feet and I followed her. The nurse led us down the hall to a curtained-off area.
“The doctor will be in in just a moment to talk to you,” the nurse said before continuing down the hallway.
“Don’t worry, Virginia. I’m going to be fine. I can’t kick the bucket just when my boy needs me,” Uncle Junior said with a faint smile.
“Don’t try to talk right now, Junior,” Mama said, grabbing hold of his hand.
He was hooked up to a heart monitor and an IV.
A short, stocky doctor with a slight accent, Middle Eastern maybe, walked in holding a clipboard.
“Mr. Manning, is this your family?”
“Yes. My sister, Virginia, and niece, Liv.”
The doctor introduced himself, stating a name I didn’t quite catch, before giving us a report.
“We do not thin
k you have had a heart attack. I believe it is angina, which can be a sign of an impending heart attack. Your pain has subsided, which is good, but doesn’t necessarily indicate everything is okay. I’d like to keep you at least overnight and run some more tests in the morning.”
“Is that really necessary? I’m here from Phoenix and I can check with my doc—”
“He’ll stay overnight like you said, doctor,” Mama said firmly.
“Very good. It may be a while before they have a room to move him to. But one or two family members are welcome to sit with him here in the ER. I will see you in the morning, Mr. Manning.”
The curtained-off cubby contained one chair and a rolling stool. I took a seat on the stool, leaving the chair for Mama.
“Don’t sit down,” she said. “You and Larry Joe get out of here and get some sleep. Earl and I will keep vigil here.”
“Mama, I’d rather you and Earl go back to the hotel and get some rest. You can relieve us later this morning.”
Mama waved me over and we stepped just outside the curtain.
“I don’t want you taking shifts at the hospital. Betty and Wayne can relieve us later if needs be. I want you to get a little shut-eye and then get back to work clearing Little Junior’s name. So, shoo,” she said, pushing my shoulder blade and nudging me out into the hallway.
“Uncle Junior, we’ll see you later. Try to get some rest.”
He nodded as I waved.
The guys both stood when I walked back into the waiting room. A man sitting nearby had blood seeping through a towel wrapped around his hand. I hoped he didn’t have to wait much longer to see a doctor.
“Larry Joe, we’re leaving—Mama’s orders. Earl, you can go back and sit with Mama. The doctor said it was okay for a couple of family members to stay with him. They don’t think Uncle Junior had a heart attack but they’re keeping him overnight and running more tests in the morning. We’re just waiting for them to move him to a room. He and Mama are in a curtained-off area about halfway down that hall,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll hear Mama’s voice.”
I gave Earl a hug.
“Larry Joe’s parents will come down later this morning. When they get here make Mama go back to the hotel and sleep for a bit.”
“Will do.”
Chapter Twelve
Friday morning, Larry Joe and I slept in. We’d both been exhausted when we got back from the hospital. We’d peeled off our clothes and fallen into bed. I was asleep within moments and woke up in the same position I’d fallen asleep in.
I gave Mama a quick call to see if there were any updates.
“Mama, what’s going on with Uncle Junior?”
“His color was improved when we left. They were going to be running tests all morning, so Earl and I came back to the hotel. Betty’s going to the hospital a little later this morning to sit with Junior.”
“Okay, good. You two try to get some sleep.”
“I will. I already caught a nap. But Earl slept half the night at the hospital already. How do men sleep sitting up in a straight-back chair?”
“I don’t know. I’ll check in with you later. Keep me posted,” I said.
“Mama and Earl are back,” I told Larry Joe. “Your mom’s going over to the hospital in a bit to check on Uncle Junior. They’re running tests on him now. So, what happened with the Winnebago? Did Earl decide to keep it, or return it?” I asked.
“Oh, he’s keeping it,” Larry Joe said. “I think he sees returning it as a sign that he’s giving up on his and your mama’s great honeymoon adventure. I know Earl has been quiet and focusing all the attention on your mama. But this is all taking a toll on him, too. Having the wedding postponed, maybe indefinitely, is hard on him, as well as your mama. And now, worrying over Uncle Junior.”
“I know. I just hate it. I’m glad we slept in this morning. I needed the rest—we both did—after the past couple of days, and especially after our late-night sprint to the hospital. But Mama’s right; I think it’s time for me to get down to work on the investigation. I’m going to call Di to see if she’s ready to make a game plan for the day.
“So where are you off to?”
“Oh, you know, just around,” Larry Joe said, avoiding eye contact.
My husband is a bad liar, in the sense that I can usually tell when he’s not being truthful.
“Honey, what are you not telling me?”
He hemmed and hawed for a moment.
“You know I won’t let it go until I find out,” I said.
“Yes. I do know that. I have a feeling you’re not going to like it, but I’ve already told Dave I would.”
“Would what?”
“He wants me to do a bit of surveillance on Jimmy Souther.”
“I swear, Dave is like a dog with a bone—except there’s no marrow in this bone. He may not like Jimmy, and for good reason. But we have absolutely no grounds to think Jimmy was involved in Steve’s murder.”
“Maybe we do,” Larry Joe said. “When Jimmy dropped Di off at the chapel, Dave was standing inside the door waiting for her. She hurried past him without a word.”
“Di said he glared at her.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it. But while she went on into the chapel, Dave lingered a moment to see where Jimmy went. And he didn’t head straight out the driveway. He pulled around and parked.”
“Meaning he could’ve entered the chapel, I suppose. But Di arrived just before the wedding started and Steve was already standing at the front of the aisle. And he’d already stashed the flask with the poisoned whiskey behind the flowers. Which means Jimmy couldn’t have put the poison in the flask,” I said.
“Even so, his hanging around the chapel after Di went in is suspicious. It could mean he has a connection to someone at the chapel.”
“Like Taylor or Gordy?” I offered.
“Maybe. But even if he wasn’t involved in killing Steve, if he’s involved in something shady, shouldn’t we try to find out what he’s up to?”
“Di will be fit to be tied if she finds out Dave is trying to pin something on Jimmy and you’re spying on him,” I said. “And doing surveillance is more my style than yours.”
“And you know I normally try to mind my own business. But I’m not convinced Di can think straight where this guy is concerned. Not after hearing all the stuff he’s been arrested for. And, as Dave pointed out, I’m the only one who can spy on him up close without raising suspicion. He met you. And he certainly knows what Dave looks like. Jimmy had his back to me when Dave and I met up with you in the casino. Dave charged over to the bar, but you dragged me out before the fireworks began.”
“I guess so. What’s the plan?”
“Dave is on a stakeout at Jimmy’s house right now. He was going to don sunglasses and a baseball cap and follow Jimmy using a car he borrowed from his cop friend. I’ll take over once Jimmy goes to his job at the bar. I’m supposed to go in, hang out, see what I can find out about him from the regulars, eavesdrop on his conversations, and casually chat with him if I have the chance. Wish me luck.” Larry Joe gave me a kiss and started for the door.
“Honey, be careful. You said yourself, Jimmy has a rap sheet as long as your arm. And he just spent the past six years or so in a Texas prison.”
“Don’t worry, Liv. Dave told me not to push for information, just pick up what I can. We don’t want to make Jimmy suspicious.
“I’m grabbing some breakfast with Dad.”
“Will this be your dad’s second or third breakfast this morning?”
“I’m not asking.”
Larry Joe gave me a smile and a quick smack on the lips before leaving.
I phoned Di, who said she had just gotten out of the shower. I pulled myself together while she got dressed and joined her in her room about twenty minutes later.
“I think we should have another chat with Gordy. See what he can tell us about Taylor and boss man Ben Bartoli,” Di said as soon as I walked through the door.
“Me
too. After seeing him snacking on Taylor’s hand during lunch yesterday, I’m wondering if he knew about her relationship with Steve, and what he thought about it if he did.”
We were trying to figure out the best way to approach Gordy, but the fact was we didn’t even know where to find him unless he was shooting a wedding at the chapel.
“I could call Taylor and tell her Gordy had been recommended to me as a wedding photographer and ask her how to contact him,” I said.
“Something tells me unless you’re booking the wedding at the Burning Love Wedding Chapel, she won’t be very helpful.”
“Oh, what if I say I’m planning a large charity gala and we’d like to engage Gordy, who comes highly recommended?” I said.
“Oh, wait a minute,” Di said. “When Gordy was talking yesterday about his other jobs, didn’t he say something about shooting beauty pageant contestants this morning at one of the hotels?”
“Yes. He sure did. At the Venetian.”
“Okay, let’s go crash a photo shoot,” Di said.
We left through the front doors of our hotel and loitered at the curb. The doorman waved for a taxi to pull forward.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“The Venetian.”
He pulled out and merged into the heavy traffic on Las Vegas Boulevard. It was a short but rough ride, as he drove down the Strip, past shops and casinos and hotels, before turning into the Venetian and dropping us off at the entrance.
Riding in other taxis since Little Junior’s arrest had caused me to realize what a good driver he was, expertly navigating the aggressive driving on the Strip, which included buses and taxis weaving in and out of lanes.
Since we didn’t see Gordy shooting photos by the lake out front, we assumed he was taking pictures along the scenic indoor canals, lined with shops and restaurants with facades evoking the charm of an Italian village.
We headed in and started walking through the winding corridors along the canal. A gondola glided past, as a gondolier in a black-and-white striped shirt serenaded a starry-eyed couple. The crooner brought the boat to a stop and announced, “She said yes.”