“What’s your plan?” Carey’s eyes were fixed on a man at a blackjack game three tables away. The player had been losing steadily all morning and was starting to get abusive with the dealer. With a crook of his finger, Carey signaled the pit boss to change dealers.
“Paul, I know you have a couple of good mechanics in the blackjack pit. Dealers who can pop any card out of a deck at will. I’ll have someone pose as a whale and make big wagers. The mechanic will make sure the player wins most every hand. We can pay out the half million in just a few hours.”
“Who do you propose to play the part of the whale? That’s one person who has to find out about the scheme.”
Lacey positively gloated. “Not necessarily, sir. I’ll have someone from Surveillance pose as the whale. I have a cover story already concocted. You’ll have to back me up, of course. We’ll say we’re testing the honesty of one of the pit bosses. When the scam is finished, I’ll have the employee cash the chips at the cage and deliver the money to me, and I’ll pay off the Gaming Control Board officials.”
Carey shook his head. “It’ll never work. You’ve forgotten about Regulation 6A. The IRS requires cash transactions of more than $10,000 in any twenty-four hour period to be reported. When your phony whale goes to the cage to cash in the gaming chips, he’ll have to furnish picture ID, the cashier will have to prepare a W2-G form on the winnings, and—”
“Paul, you’ll have to circumvent the regulations. I know you’ve done it before. Remember that prince from Saudi Arabia? And the industrialist from Tokyo? You know foreign high rollers don’t give a shit about American IRS regs, and if we want to keep them as customers, we have to close our eyes. If we don’t, some other casino will.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Carey admitted. “I didn’t know you were aware of such things, Rick.”
“Paul, it’s my job to know everything that goes on at this property.”
“Okay. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, it’ll be possible for your man to win a half million bucks and cash the chips in at the cage without the IRS or Gaming getting wise. Who do you have in mind to play the part of the whale?”
“I have the perfect person lined up. She’s a black girl in Surveillance—about thirty years old, a real knockout, and quite loyal to me. I’ll stick her in a costume and have her pretend to be royalty from some third-world country in Africa.”
“A beautiful black girl, huh. Are you sleeping with her?” Carey grinned lecherously.
“Not yet, but I will be soon,” Lacey smirked.
“That’s good. You can always get the most loyalty from the women you’re fucking. All you have to do is convince them they’re the love of your life.”
“I know.”
Lacey was having a difficult time containing his excitement. True, he’d bugged the offices of the Gaming Control Board members. He’d learned they had already decided to fine Crest Resorts $100,000 and let Brendan off with a stern warning. There was no need to bribe anyone. Indeed, any attempt to do so would undoubtedly have disastrous results. The half-million dollars in cash was going to go directly into Lacey’s own pockets. Most of it, anyway. He knew Morgan Penny’s mother needed an operation. If all other efforts to seduce Morgan failed, he’d give her enough money so her old lady could go under the knife, but he’d make it crystal-clear he was buying some pussy as well. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d paid a lot of money for a choice piece of ass.
Twenty-Two
“THIS IS MICHAEL KAPLAN.”
“Hi, buddy. This is Mark.”
“Yeah, Mark. What do you need?”
“Can’t I call you without needing something?”
Michael laughed. “Yes, you can. But you never have.”
“Come to think of it, you may be right. I do have a favor to ask.”
“Go on—”
“I was just handed a missing persons report. A woman named Patti Ho. Aitch Oh, like in Don. Ho’s either Chinese or Hawaiian. She’s a cocktail waitress at Blue Hawaii. Would you ask Myra to see what she can find out about the woman? I don’t want to call Myra’s office, in case her phone’s tapped.”
Michael’s jaw tensed. “Okay. I’ll ask her. Can this wait until I see Myra tonight?”
“If it’s not too much trouble, buddy, maybe you could get word to her sooner. Your office isn’t that far away from Blue Hawaii. Take Myra to lunch. She’ll like that.”
“You know, Mark, I’m not very happy about Myra doing legwork for Metro. Kim and I were just talking about Myra’s situation. We think she’s already in some danger, with Lacey watching her on the surveillance system all the time—”
“Maybe Lacey thinks Myra’s in danger, too, and he’s keeping an eye on her to protect her. Did that ever cross your mind?”
Michael felt a degree of relief. “No, it didn’t. But now that you’ve pointed it out, that explanation does make sense. Maybe Lacey isn’t really a bad guy after all, just someone doing his job. Maybe we were carried away with our speculations last night because of what Morgan told Myra.”
“Yeah. Which puts us back to square two again.”
Michael chortled. “I hear you. Bodies but no suspects.”
“While I have you on the phone—”
“Yes?”
“Those gold bands you and Myra wear on your ring fingers. Those are wedding rings, aren’t they?”
“Yes. Of course.” Why would Mark ask that?
“I noticed Kimberly wears an identical ring. Exactly the same as your wedding bands. On her ring finger. That’s quite a coincidence. Kimberly’s not married, is she?”
Mark knows darn well Kim isn’t married. “Er, um, no, Kimberly’s not married.”
“Would you know where she got the ring and why she wears it?”
“Uh, Myra and I gave it to her.”
There was a long pause before Mark spoke again. “Go on. I’m listening—”
“It’s a, uh, uh, it’s a long story, Mark, and I have another phone call coming in. A long distance call, I think. Remind me some time and I’ll clue you in. Okay? I gotta go now.”
“Okay, Michael. It’s obvious you don’t want to explain right now. I can wait until you’re ready. Be sure to let me know what Myra finds out about Patti Ho as soon as possible, though.”
“I will. Talk with you later. Bye.”
As soon as Michael hung up the phone, Kimberly spoke. She was wearing a white skirt and white cashmere sweater. “It’s started, hasn’t it, Michael?”
He nodded. “Yes. It has. Mark did everything but come out and ask me point blank if we’re all sleeping together.”
“He’s intensely curious. Because of his occupation, I suppose. When Mark does pin you down, what are you going to tell him?”
Michael shrugged. “I could just tell him it’s none of his business. But Mark’s a good friend. I’ll tell him the truth. That we’re all in love. He’ll understand.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it. Right now, I have to call Myra and ask her to join us for lunch. Before we meet Myra, though, I want to stop at the phone company and pick up two more cell phones. One for Myra and one for you. It’s something I should have done a long time ago.”
“You’re right,” Kimberly agreed. “Cell phones are like American Express cards. You don’t want to leave home without one.”
“SURVEILLANCE. THIS IS MORGAN PENNY.”
“Morgan, this is Myra.”
“Hi, Myra. I was just thinking about you.”
At that admission, Myra felt a flush come to her cheeks. “Can you talk?”
“Yes. No one’s here but me. Are you in your office?”
“No. I’m on my new cell phone. I want to see you. As soon as possible.”
“I want to see you, too, Myra. If you hadn’t called me today, I was going to call you at home tonight.”
“Let’s meet somewhere for dinner. Better yet, I’ll pick you up at your apartment. You already gave
me the address. Six o’clock okay?”
“Six is perfect. What shall I wear?”
“Jeans are fine. We’ll go to the Steak Ranch. Okay?”
“I’m looking forward to being with you tonight, Myra. It’s a date.”
Myra hadn’t thought of it as a date. She hoped Morgan wouldn’t be disappointed that she only wanted to tell her about Nellie Sherman. And, about Patti Ho.
The rest of the afternoon, the brief telephone conversation with Morgan constantly replayed in Myra’s mind. The steamy way Morgan murmured, “I was just thinking about you,” and, “I want to see you, too, Myra.” gave her goose bumps. Myra wondered why Morgan was planning to call her at home tonight. And Myra wondered why, when Morgan told her, “It’s a date,” she felt a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, the same excited anxiety she felt on her wedding night.
MICHAEL PARKED his Mercedes in the lot behind Hattie’s Soul Food Kitchen. Kimberly sensed something was weighing heavily on Michael’s mind. He’d spoken hardly a word on the drive from the condo to the restaurant.
“Are you sure you want to have dinner here tonight, baby? We reviewed this restaurant just two weeks ago.”
“I don’t care if we review it tonight or not. I feel like barbecued ribs. Pork ribs. Since Myra’s not having dinner with us, I can have them. You can, too.”
They were still sitting in the car. Michael usually hopped out right away and ran to the passenger side to open the door.
Kimberly leaned over and gave Michael a kiss. “Something’s bothering you, isn’t it? I can always tell.”
Michael crossed his arms. “No, nothing’s bothering me. All right, something is bothering me. It’s Myra.”
“Are you worried about Myra because of the murders, because she’s being watched at Blue Hawaii, or because she’s having dinner with Morgan tonight?”
Kimberly hit the nail right on the head. “For all those reasons, I suppose. Especially the last one.”
Michael finally climbed out of the car, walked around to Kimberly’s side, and opened the door. She put an arm around his waist and they headed toward the restaurant entrance. “You shouldn’t be worried, Michael.”
“Do you see the look in Myra’s eyes whenever she speaks about Morgan?” Michael asked.
Kimberly couldn’t help herself. She broke out laughing. “Why, Michael Kaplan, you rascal. You’re not worried about Myra. You’re jealous! You think she has the hots for Morgan!
“Myra likes Morgan—there’s no doubt about that. But she’s only meeting with her to let her know about Nellie Sherman’s murder, and to find out if Morgan knows anything Mark Caruso can use. She’s just doing what Mark asked her to do. If Myra had dinner with us first, she and Morgan couldn’t get together until after nine or so, and by the time they finished talking and she drove home it would be too late for us to watch the movie she rented yesterday. Myra’s having dinner with Morgan to save time, that’s all.
“I don’t think either of us has to worry about Myra falling for Morgan. She was completely candid about her feelings. She said she was flattered Morgan had asked her out, but turned Morgan down flat and told her she was fully committed to us. I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to meeting Morgan. She sounds terrific.”
The waitress escorted them to their table and handed them menus. Michael pushed his aside. He already knew what he was going to order. “I suppose you’re right. You’ve thought this out pretty thoroughly, haven’t you?”
Kimberly nodded. “Yes, I have. I suspect Myra’s still a little unsure of our ménage à trois and needs friends who will be understanding and not castigate her for the arrangement. For me, the situation is different. Before the ménage, I didn’t have either of you. Now I have both. So, I’m completely fulfilled. But Myra now shares her husband. That’s a new experience for her, and a sacrifice not many women would be willing to make.”
Michael grinned. “Myra is special, isn’t she? You too, Kimberly. I love both of you so much! I wish we could tell the whole world of our love.”
She reached for his hand. “Perhaps someday we’ll be able to, Michael. But even if we can’t tell anyone else how we feel, we can always tell each other.”
Twenty-Three
MORGAN OPENED THE DOOR of her apartment only seconds after Myra rang the bell. She was wearing a white cotton blouse and faded blue jeans, no makeup, and had a freshly-scrubbed look. Myra caught a whiff of the same subtle perfume she found so intoxicating the day before.
Myra was also wearing faded blue jeans and a white blouse—no bra. She knew Morgan never wore a bra, and decided to emulate her—for this evening, anyway. She had gone home directly after work to shower, shampoo, and change. Michael and Kimberly had come in while she was getting ready. Myra sensed they weren’t too happy about her going out to dinner with Morgan. What do they expect from me? she thought. I work as hard as they do. Do they expect me to come home from a full day’s work at Blue Hawaii and fix dinner for them every night?
“Hi, Myra. Come on in. I want to introduce you to my mom,” Morgan greeted.
Morgan embraced Myra briefly, then took her by the hand. The apartment was modestly furnished and spotlessly clean. A slight, gray-haired, brown-skinned woman in her mid-sixties was sitting in front of the television set watching a news broadcast. She looked up expectantly when Myra and Morgan approached.
“Mom, I’d like you to meet my new friend, Myra Kaplan.”
The woman started to rise, but Myra stopped her. “Please don’t get up, Mrs. Penny. We’re on our way out to dinner. We’ll be here for only a minute.”
Morgan’s mother beamed and shook Myra’s hand. She had thin, frail fingers, but the knuckles had been swollen by arthritis. “It’s nice to meet you, Myra. Morgan’s been raving about you for the past two hours. My, don’t you girls look nice together. You’re dressed alike, just like the Bobbsey twins. Did you plan it that way?”
Myra laughed. “Well, I did tell Morgan to wear jeans. The white blouses are a coincidence.”
“Mom, is there anything I can get you before we go?” Morgan asked solicitously.
Her mother shook her head from side to side. “No, honey, I’m fine. You two go on and have a good time. I’ll be all right.”
Morgan leaned over and gave her mother a kiss on the forehead. “I won’t be home late, Mom. At least, I don’t think I will,” she said, giving a big wink to Myra. “If my plans change, I’ll call so you won’t worry.”
Myra was acutely aware Morgan was still holding her hand as they walked to Myra’s car. Or, was Myra holding Morgan’s hand? It didn’t seem to make any difference. The result was the same. “Your mother—does she know?” Myra asked.
“Know I’m lesbian? Of course. Mom used to constantly ask me when I was going to get married and have children, and I finally had to tell her.”
“How did she take the news?” Myra asked curiously.
“She was a little disappointed at first, when she realized she wouldn’t have any grandchildren. But that was the extent of it. Mom wasn’t at all surprised. She said she’d known for years I didn’t like men, because I never dated.”
“Never?”
“Not since junior high school, unless you call going to the movies with a group of friends dates. How about your parents, Myra? Do they know you’re bisexual?”
Myra shook her head. “No, not yet. As I told you, I only discovered it myself very recently. I do intend to tell them the next time I see them, though. What’s going to be more difficult is finding a way to explain the ménage à trois. Mom and Dad already know Kimberly. We were best friends in high school. And they know Michael, of course. So, I won’t be introducing them to any new personalities, and that will probably make things a little easier.”
Myra started the engine and headed north. The Steak Ranch is located about ten miles from downtown Las Vegas, in an old ranch house converted to a restaurant.
“I have a lot to tell you tonight,” Myra started.
“I have a lot to tell you, too,” Morgan said. “Do you want to go first?”
Myra briefed Morgan about her lunch with Nellie Sherman the day before, and how Nellie believed she had been let go from Blue Hawaii because she may have stumbled on Rick Lacey and Lois Lewis having sex. Myra said she and Nellie speculated that Lacey had impregnated Lewis.
Myra told Morgan of the phone call she’d received from Mark Caruso the night before, just as they were finishing dinner. “When Mark said the victim had my name and phone number and address on a slip of paper in her pocket, I was so afraid you’d been murdered, Morgan. I knew you had my phone number and address on you yesterday. Michael, Kimberly, and I rushed down to Metro immediately. When we got there, I found out it wasn’t you who’d been murdered. I was so relieved! But then, I was told Nellie had been brutally killed.” She gave Morgan all the details of Nellie’s death.
“Oh, that sends shivers up and down my spine,” Morgan said. “Yesterday, I saw you on the surveillance monitor having lunch with Nellie. Lacey was watching you, too.”
“I didn’t know Nellie very well, but she always impressed me as being a good person,” Myra continued. “No one should have to die so horribly. Even worse, the pervert who murdered her mutilated her corpse afterwards.
“Now, what’s your news?”
“About fifteen minutes after you called me this afternoon, I was busily scanning the eye-in-the-sky monitors of the entire casino. At the same time, I was trying to keep a close eye on a high-stakes baccarat game. The other Surveillance employees were all at lunch or were somewhere else in the building. Suddenly, I felt someone creep up behind me. I must have jumped three feet in the air. When I turned around, Rick Lacey was standing there grinning at me like a Cheshire cat. I’d been in deep concentration and hadn’t heard him come in.
“As I said, I was alone in the department. The room’s kept semi-dark to keep glare off of the TV monitors and the door’s always locked. Lacey pulled up a chair and sat down right next to me, real close, pressing his knees against mine. I didn’t know what he might do next. Girl, I was petrified!”
A Time For Us (Michael Kaplan Mysteries) Page 16