I had no doubt. “How’d he find out?”
She adjusted the tiny string on her bottom half, untying one side with a yank, then redoing it in angry, jerky motions. “Who knows? Can you ever keep something like that totally quiet? People were all over the new tour, coming out of retirement. Why now? That sort of thing. Lots of questions, people guessing. Some guessing right.”
“So, if it came out you’d had an affair, you stood to lose a lot in the divorce.”
“My kids, enough money to go back home, start over. Nobody knows, and I couldn’t risk it. I got scared. I didn’t want anyone to know. You can imagine how it would be, fighting the Holt Box publicity machine. I’d be labeled a tramp, unfit for everything.”
She had a point. The Court of Public Opinion—a free-for-all where the media sacrificed the truth for the salacious and incendiary. “So, what did Irv want?”
“He wanted the Babylon to hire Holt for his comeback.”
“That’s all?” Seemed like a bad bet for a trump card.
“That’s what I thought.” She quit picking at the towel. With a delicate gesture she caught the eye of a roving server. “Veuve, please.”
“A glass?” She looked between the two of us.
“A bottle.” Mrs. Box raised an eyebrow. I shook my head. “One glass.”
She might be from a small town, but she’d acquired big-city tastes. “And Sam?” I asked once the server had moved away. “Why was he bird-dogging you?”
“Insurance. Irv put him onto me to make sure I did as I said I would. Totally unnecessary. It seemed so easy. All I had to do was open the door, and I knew your father would jump at it. Anybody would.”
“And you get Irv out of your life.” She was naïve if she believed he’d go away so easily. Blackmail, the gift that kept on giving, like one of those white elephant gifts you keep re-gifting every holiday. Easy money. “And the tapes? The pictures?”
“He gave me a copy, said they were the originals.”
“But we know how that goes.” Mrs. Box could be lying through her teeth. That was the whole problem with all of this—everyone had something to gain from seeing Holt Box dead.
Even Teddie. “Did Irv approach you again?”
“Not yet.” At least Dani Jo had a bit of insight.
Maybe that really was all he needed from her—a way to turn a killer onto the Big Boss. So that took care of the revenge thing as far as my father was concerned. I was still a loose end. But, knowing Irv, I knew that wasn’t his end game. He had to find a new gig. “Did you know about Kim Cho?”
“What about her?” No anger. No jealousy.
The server came back with the Champagne, and filled a flute, handing it to Mrs. Box, then nestling the bottle in a silver ice bucket in the shade. I eyed, the Champagne, regretting my decision no to partake.
“Holt hired her to do some publicity and things. I think she’s the one who facilitated the Macau contract.”
“How does she fit with everything else?”
Maybe she didn’t know the down and dirty. On the off chance she didn’t, I wasn’t going to be the one to deliver the blow. “No idea. Any idea why Holt went back on his deal there?”
“We didn’t have time to talk about it, not that he was sharing. We didn’t talk much, as I said. Things had turned…” She searched for a word as she sipped her Champagne, savoring it like it was her last meal or something.
“Distant?” I guessed.
Her tight smile told me I’d underestimated. “What about my father? You said he wanted out of the deal.”
She gazed at the other people lounging by the pool, turned in to each other, or heads together as they cuddled in the cabanas, her expression turning wistful. “I’m not sure that was quite right. I know Holt went back to your father with more demands. He’s a tough negotiator; he didn’t just roll over.” She smiled a satisfied smile. “Holt wasn’t used to that.”
“The money was important?”
She tossed back the rest of her drink and reached for the bottle. “When is it not?”
She sounded like the money was the only thing she had left to fight for. Maybe, after all this was over, I’d tell her what her husband really wanted—if it would make things better. Would I want to know if the roles were reversed? I wasn’t sure.
Shadows fell across us—the looming figure of Detective Romeo. He took in all of Mrs. Box and instantly reddened. Stepping from behind Romeo, Agent Stokes didn’t have the same problem enjoying the view.
I tossed Mrs. Box a towel. “I don’t even know your first name, not really. I’m assuming it’s Dani Jo.”
She covered herself with the towel, which was large enough to completely hide her. Her brows crinkled. “Dani. Dani Jo.” She said the words as if conjuring a long-ago past. “Nobody has called me that in a long time. I’m always just the bimbo, Holt’s wife. A hurdle for other women to climb over.”
“No one can relegate you to inconsequence unless you let them. What does your mother call you?”
“Pickles.” She blushed.
“Mothers.” I angled a look up at the two men who stood there looking all official and uncomfortable. “Can we help you?” I speared Romeo with a look. “We were just having a nice chat.”
Agent Stokes took the lead. “We found that phone.”
My hope would’ve taken flight, but his tone and expression shot me down. “Where?”
“Bungalow seven,” Romeo said, glancing at Mrs. Box, then settling his gaze on me.
I could tell he didn’t want anything with me in particular; he was just searching for a comfortable place to rest his eyes. There was something so guileless about the detective that was completely endearing. Vegas could make you forget the rest of the universe had sensibilities a bit more delicate.
“I’m assuming you had a warrant?” Mrs. Box refilled her flute, then slammed the Veuve.
Romeo pulled the paper out of his inside jacket pocket. Nobody reached for it.
Dani Jo finally gave up on the Champagne, setting the glass on the ground with careful finality. “I’m guessing it wouldn’t make a difference if I told you I had no idea what phone you’re talking about?”
Agent Stokes tossed a plastic bag across her towel-draped legs. The white dinner jacket minus a bunch of buttons. “The phone was in the pocket.”
She looked at me with big eyes. “Lucky, I’ve never seen that jacket in my life.”
I stood so I could stare down the over-eager public servants. “Did Sam have access to your bungalow?”
“He had a key.” Dani Jo pretended to be interested in her wiggling toes.
“Why?” I beat the detective and Agent Stokes to it.
“Irv insisted. Until the contract was signed, sealed and delivered.”
The contract was still open, or at least she thought it was. Good to know.
“I can confirm he had a key,” I said to the enforcement types standing there, looking all official.
“How do you know?” Romeo asked, doing his job.
I wilted a little under their scrutiny. “I don’t know know, but when I was chasing him, he waved a key at the security guard at the entrance to the Kasbah.”
“So you know he had a key, but you can’t prove what to?” Agent Stokes had no problem saying what Romeo wouldn’t want to.
He was right, so I couldn’t exactly shoot the messenger, which I was conflicted about. “You’re thinking she killed her husband? Haven’t you already made one bad arrest for that?”
Agent Stokes fell silent, leaving Romeo to handle the not-so-easy part. “I just want to talk to her.”
“At the station?” Why I was feeling defensive, I couldn’t fathom. The woman had triggered every preconceived notion I had. Maybe that was why the defensive thing had kicked in—feeling a bit judgmental and not liking myself for it. And I wanted the right person to fry for one murder and three attempts. Everybody was still on the list, but some were leading the race. Dani Jo wasn’t one of them. “I think yo
u’re overlooking one thing. No one saw her at the party.”
“There’s that, but she was in town. You said so yourself.” Romeo shut me down.
And I had the registration log to prove it. So I didn’t argue.
Romeo continued, shifting to Mrs. Box. “We’d also like to record your gait, Mrs. Box, the way you walk, and compare it to one of the people who planted the bomb at Lucky’s place. Would you agree to that?”
Dani Jo stood, wrapping herself in the towel and whatever dignity she could muster. “If you’ll let me change, I’ll be glad to go with you. I’ve nothing to hide, but somehow I don’t think the truth is going to set me free.” Before she left with her guards, she paused, looking up at me. “You know what they say about things being too easy.”
Guess she knew Irv better than I thought.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MONA’S call caught me wandering the lobby looking for a problem to solve or someone to shoot. Nothing worse than knowing who and not being able to prove it.
“Oh, Lucky, I did what you asked. Lying is so easy.” Her voice breathless through the phone.
With Mona, there was always a yin to her yang. But I blew by that anyway, so I deserved to pay a price. But lying wasn’t a good thing, especially considering her dipping a toe in the political scene. We had enough lying politicians already. “But, Mother, remember, lying is normally frowned upon except when a matter of life and death.”
“Oh, I know that.”
I pictured her waving her hand, slapping away my concern as she would a pesky gnat. A heart of gold, but a brain wired to get her ten to twenty.
“So what did you find out?”
An exaggerated sigh. “I thought you were not going to the mother thing.”
“Only when I’m running low on patience.”
She didn’t take the hint. “Well, I’m a bit disappointed, I must say.”
“I must say, haughty suits you…Mom.” She went all giggly. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, can you fill me in on what you found out about Kim Cho?”
“I couldn’t possibly talk about something that delicate over the phone. You must come up. You’re in the lobby; Jerry told me so.” She went quiet. I’m sure he’d told her not to tell me, which made me smile. “You won’t get mad at him, right?”
“Nobody has any secrets in this hotel. We all know that.”
“So, you’ll come up?”
I heard babies giggling in the background. “I wasn’t aware I have a choice.”
“We’ll be waiting.” She rang off before I could ask who “we” was. I charted a new course, worrying about what kind of storm I’d be walking into. With Mona, one never knew and could never anticipate.
The private elevator was the first peace and quiet I’d had. Even my brain stopped spinning for a brief moment—without that force, I struggled with equilibrium. And tried not to listen to the Christmas music. I so did not need an earworm of Jingle Bells. And nobody hates Feliz Navidad more than me. The first strains prodded me through the narrow opening as the elevator came to halt.
I skidded into the great room.
And ran headlong into Teddie holding Thing One or Thing Two, who could tell? Even with a baby in his arms, he looked relaxed, casual, like he hadn’t a care in the world … except for the ankle bracelet.
“Aren’t you supposed to be home?”
“Home. Interesting word. My place has a bit of smoke damage. They worked out for me to stay next door in your old place. I thought you knew.”
“I did. I forgot. Been a little distracted lately.”
He shifted the bundle in his arms. Seeing him with a child had my belly feeling funny. I had no idea what that was about. “Sorry about your place. That was a really close call.”
He gave me a look. “Thanks for saving the guitar.”
He didn’t ask me how all that came about, which was good because I didn’t want to lie. “Anything new that might make me feel better?”
Mona talked in the kitchen, using the clatter of pans to punctuate what sounded like a speech. “What’s she doing?”
“Practicing.” He cooed to the baby, singing a snippet of Some Enchanted Evening. When the baby settled, he looked up. “Your father is sleeping; they moved him out of ICU. She’s cooking.”
“Two signs of the coming apocalypse.” I glanced toward the kitchen. “You don’t think she’s cooking up a way to get Father a couple of roomies at the hospital, do you?”
Teddie grimaced. “Could be.” His bundle started whimpering again, so he started bouncing it. “You got any news?”
Wandering to the bar, I fixed myself a glass of single malt in honor of the Big Boss—the fifteen-year-old stuff. I saved the twenty-five for his return. “I’ll tell you what I know so far, not that I can prove any of it.” I started at the beginning and tried not to leave any detail out.
“So, you think Irv Gittings is behind all of it?”
“Up to his ass, but everybody stands to gain somehow. Some proof that would help point a finger would be great. I’m sure once forensics gets through with the jacket we can prove Sam killed a couple of folks, maybe even planted a bomb or two. If we catch him, maybe we can charge him. He is Mr. Cho’s son. I wonder how far China is willing to extend the diplomatic privilege.” I stepped to the wall of windows and stared out at the Strip. I could just see Cielo far down to the left at the south end of the Strip. The opening was soon. I’m sure I had a punch list a mile long; the thought paralyzed me. “I’d really like to see him hang. Frankly, I’d love to see Irv, Sam, and Mr. Cho dangling in the wind. They mess with my magic.” I turned around and caught Teddie looking at me, sadness and longing arranging his features. I knew the feelings.
“I’d love to see him hang, too. That’d get my ass out of a crack, although repairing my career will be impossible.”
“Please, I’m the PR person, and I can tell you there is no such thing as bad publicity.” I’d disputed that little truism with myself earlier, but decided to trot it out here. Maybe I could lighten Teddie’s load.
“You’re customer relations, and you’re just trying to make me feel better.”
Yes, we were the best of friends, could finish each other’s sentences, read each other’s minds. That thought made me sad. I saw it mirrored in Teddie’s face.
“My career is pretty much fucked.”
“Don’t say that. Talent will out.”
He didn’t look convinced and I had nothing to give him.
Mona breezed into the room dressed in slacks and a crisp white shirt, her hair pulled up, and looking all businesslike. I almost didn’t recognize this incarnation of my mother. But the frilly apron that said “WILL COOK FOR SEX” gave her away. “Hey, Mom.” I met her halfway and gave her a kiss. “What were you doing in there?”
“Practicing a speech. I’m not very good at speaking in public, so I hired a speech coach.” She kept moving, walking back and forth.
“Peter Paisley the fourth?”
“How’d you know?” She looked crestfallen as she paced by me.
“It’s my job to know. Where is your off switch?”
“Moving helps not to get brain-freeze when you’re giving a speech. That’s what Peter tells me.”
I grabbed her arm and rooted her to a spot in front of me. “You’re not giving a speech now.”
She paused, then started pacing again. “I know, but I need to think to get it all right.”
I gave up and tried to not let the pacing bother me. “Why all the secrecy?”
“I thought maybe you and Teddie …”
I motioned her to move on—figuratively, but she took it literally. “We’ve made nice, now could you tell me what you found out about Kimberly Cho?”
“Well,” she swooped in, relieving Teddie of his little package as if she couldn’t be in close proximity and not have a baby in her arms. She cradled her child with a casual ingrained deftness. Her voice held a conspiratorial whisper. “I had to work through the
girls. Turns out I have more friends than I thought. All that lobbying I did.” At my look, she motored into the meat of the matter. “I found the doctor Miss Minnie’s girls use.”
“Skanky, right?” I wrinkled my nose thinking of all the possibilities.
“No, actually very upscale, treats all the Summerlin moms. While I believe in what he’s doing, I know he could get in a bit of trouble, so I won’t say who or where.”
“Okay, if you just tell me what he told you.”
“Kim Cho is lying. According to the doctor, who would have no reason to lie to me, Kim came to him wanting some complicity in her ruse. Apparently Holt Box wanted to see some proof. The doctor said she got pretty ugly.”
“I’m sure she felt, with Miss Minnie’s weight behind her, she could get some help from a doctor, especially one with something to hide. I like the fact he drew the line.”
“Just because something is illegal doesn’t make it wrong,” Mona said, parroting her daughter.
“And the reverse is true as well, something Father needs to be reminded of.” I glanced at Teddie. He got it.
For Mona, it was a fly-by. But she’d given me a lot to think about.
Kimberly Cho wouldn’t be the first to try to trap a celebrity. “Mom, you’ve been a great help. I really appreciate it.” I gave her a peck on the cheek.
Teddie wandered away as Mother and I finished up, taking my former spot in front of the windows. He looked like someone who once had had it all only to lose it. And some of it hadn’t been his fault. I stepped in next to him. “Life changes. We move on. It won’t ever be the same, but it can be as good or better.”
He nodded, but didn’t buy it. Like I said, I knew his nuances.
“How’s Jean-Charles. You guys good? I’m asking because I sincerely care. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy.”
I didn’t remind him of the fracture in time where all he wanted was a career as a pop star and the roadie girls that came along with it.
He must’ve sensed more in my pause.
“Tell me. What’s going on?” He asked as a friend—I could read that all over him.
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