A.R. Winters - Tiffany Black 02 - Green Eyes in Las Vegas

by A. R. Winters

  “Great.”

  I was expecting Samantha to ask me to come over to her office, so I was a bit surprised when she gave me the name and address of a diner in a slightly sketchy part of town.

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “I can always come over and meet you at work.”

  There was a brief pause as Samantha considered that option, and then she said, “No, work might be a bit awkward.”

  I wondered if she wanted me to look into one of her employees. And then an unnerving thought struck me. I said, “How do you and Sophia know each other?”

  “We used to work together.”

  I stifled my groan. It was just my luck. They weren’t opera-buddies, or co-members of some charity board. “Oh.”

  I must’ve sounded disappointed because Samantha immediately said, “You don’t have to do the work if you don’t want to.”

  “No, I do. I mean, I don’t know yet, but I’ll come and talk to you.”

  “Ok, I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  I hung up and as I drove over, I remembered working for Sophia. It hadn’t been much fun. Early in my investigation, I’d been backroomed in The Riverbelle Casino by two goons who had more brawn than brains. Mr. Beard had been bald, with a French cut beard, and Beady Eyes had, well, tiny beady eyes. They seemed to want to hurt me for fun and, in the end, I’d only managed to escape by slipping off the stiletto I’d been wearing and driving the pointy end through the side of Mr. Beard’s neck. I hoped nothing like that would happen if I decided to accept Samantha’s case.

  Neil’s Diner was a little bit west of the Strip and two doors down from The Peacock Bar, where Samantha worked. While The Peacock Bar catered to well-heeled locals and curious tourists, Neil’s Diner seemed to cater exclusively to employees of the bar, and a few well-informed locals who went there to ogle at the girls for the price of a cheap, greasy meal. It was a badly-lit place that seemed to have been set up sometime in the fifties, with the same, decades-old dirty red booths lining one wall, and a few rickety plastic-and-chrome tables and chairs in the middle of the room.

  Within seconds of walking in, Samantha waved me over to one of the booths with high-backed, uncomfortable red seats. I’d told her to recognize me by my outfit, but I needn’t have bothered – I was the only woman there who didn’t have the face of a supermodel or the body of someone familiar with plastic surgery.

  Samantha was a brown-eyed brunette with a friendly smile. She wore a pink singlet and tiny denim shorts, a stark contrast to the dark business suit I’d been picturing her wearing for the first few minutes of our phone conversation. As I slid into the booth, she said, “Thanks for coming over.”

  I mumbled something polite, trying to forget that I’d initially thought she was a powerful executive or casino owner’s wife.

  “I know you’re busy,” Samantha said. “Sophia said your name was in the papers after you solved Ethan Becker’s murder, and you must have lots of clients.”

  I let the comment slide, not wanting to acknowledge how desperate I was for a new client. My work as a casino dealer pays the bills, but I’d love to get out of the fickle gambling industry and do more meaningful work.

  “I’m so glad Sophia told me about you,” she went on. “I don’t know who else to go to, or who to trust.”

  Samantha looked at me with large, pleading eyes, and I felt a prickle of worry. A simple case shouldn’t involve much skill or trust…“What’s this about?”

  Samantha pulled up a photo on her phone and slid it over to me. It had obviously been taken recently, because she still had the same hairstyle. She was standing next to a gorgeous blonde, and they were both posing for the camera, hands on their hips, red carpet style.

  I clutched at a straw of hope. “You want me to follow this blonde?”

  “Not much of a psychic, are you? That’s Crystal. She died four days ago.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. Was she…?”

  I let my voice trail off and Samantha sighed. “The police said it was mugging gone bad. She was stabbed in a street in North Vegas, just past Aliente.”

  Aliente was a newish, northern suburb, near where my parents live. “So the police looked into it. I’m sorry for your loss, but if they’ve already investigated, I don’t think there’s anything I can do.”

  “No.” Samantha shook her head emphatically. “You’ve got to help out. I couldn’t tell the cops everything.”

  I leaned forward, and rested my chin on my hands. I wasn’t looking forward to diving into another murder investigation and I didn’t like the idea of keeping information from the cops.

  I stared at Samantha until she sighed again and went on. “Crystal was a stripper, just like me. Nobody knows that – not her sister, not her boyfriend.”

  I looked at her sympathetically. “I understand, but right now - maybe it’s time to let the cat out of the bag.”

  Samantha shook her head again. “She didn’t want anyone to know and I don’t want to betray her, especially now that… Anyway, I’m sure being a stripper had nothing to do with it.”

  “Maybe not. But maybe it did.”

  “I can’t take the risk – her family back home are conservative and I don’t want… I couldn’t do that to her, or their memory of her.”

  As messed up as it was, I could understand Samantha’s point. “Ok,” I said, “tell me what happened.”

  “As far as I know, Crystal went out one night. I’m not sure what she was doing up in Aliente, but the next morning, her boyfriend Max called to see if she was with me. She wasn’t, and she wasn’t answering her phone – and then the cops called me and told me her body had been found.”

  Samantha blinked back tears and I reached out instinctively and squeezed her arm. After a few seconds I said, “Why were the cops calling you?”

  “I’m listed as her emergency contact here.” Samantha smiled wryly. “She was my flat-mate, which is the only reason I even know about it.”

  I waited for her to blink away the tears that welled up again. A petite, blonde waitress in a faded red-and-green uniform appeared with a drink Samantha must’ve ordered earlier, and asked me if I’d like anything to eat. As if on cue, my stomach rumbled, and I remembered I’d skipped lunch. I ordered a chicken burger, and Samantha said, “I wish I could eat carbs.”

  I smiled. “Anyone can eat carbs. You just need to be ok with a bit of chubbiness.”

  “Or a gym membership.”

  Or dancing around a pole all day. Or standing on your feet all night long, dealing out cards to annoying, drunk strangers. But I didn’t mention either of those options out loud.

  Instead, I said, “If Crystal’s friends and family don’t know she’s a stripper, what do they think she does?”

  Samantha took a long sip of her drink. “Crystal doesn’t live here – didn’t live here. She lives up in LA, where she’s – she was – trying to be an actress. She flew down once a month to work at The Peacock, and told everyone she was doing modeling work at conventions.”

  I nodded. “That’s why she flew down this weekend.”

  “No. This time Crystal flew over for the Indie Movie Convention, and she stayed back because she thought she might get a role in Casino Kings. That’s a movie being shot here,” she added.

  “Right. So she was staying with you?”

  “No. Her boyfriend came down with her, and they were staying in The Palazzo.”

  My run as a psychic was going from bad to worse, so I said, “Her boyfriend doesn’t know she’s a stripper?”

  “No way. He’s the jealous type.”

  I couldn’t imagine keeping such a big secret in a relationship, but it seemed like no biggie to Samantha. “Were they serious?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe he was serious about her. They’ve been together almost three years – I assumed she’d work it out with him at some point.”

  I nodded like I understood, but I didn’t really. The waitress came by with my burger, and for a few long seconds the only
sound was that of my chomping and chewing.

  My phone rang when I was half-way through my burger. It was just my mother, so I ignored it and put it away. I looked at Samantha and asked, “Why talk to me? I mean, what makes you think this is anything beyond a mugging gone bad?”

  Samantha toyed with a strand of her hair. “Crystal was wearing a massive diamond ring that night. She was still wearing it when she was found.”

  “Did they take anything from her at all?”

  “Yeah… her purse was empty, so they took whatever cash she had, and her phone.”

  “Maybe they panicked and forgot the ring.”

  “That’s what the cops said. But I think…” She shook her head. “It’s just this feeling I’ve got, that there’s something more… Crystal was like a sister to me, and I need to do this for her. She’d have done the same for me. Please say you’ll look into it?”I swallowed my mouthful and was about to say something when she added, “I’ll pay whatever you want.”

  I nodded thoughtfully and finished up my burger. A new client who’d pay well was nothing to sneeze at. And my gut agreed with Samantha – there did seem to be something fishy about the whole thing.

  “I can’t guarantee anything,” I said.

  “But you’ll look into it?”

  I nodded, yes, and Samantha let out a deep breath and smiled. I pulled out a copy of my PI contract, which I always carried in my bag, and we went over the paperwork. Once everything was complete, Samantha began typing into her phone and said, “I’m emailing you those photos of Crystal.”

  I nodded, and rummaged in my bag until I found a notebook and pen for taking notes.

  “I’ll need more info on Crystal,” I said. “Let’s start with the basics – what can you tell me about her?”

  Samantha thought for a moment, and then began reeling off facts about Crystal. Her real name was Crystal Macombe, her stripper name was also Crystal. She’d grown up in Nebraska; both her parents had passed away but her sister, Carol, still lived there. Carol was married with three kids. Crystal had always wanted to be a movie star and Samantha thought she was gorgeous and talented.

  “What about the boyfriend?” I asked.

  “Max works in finance, I think he earns a fair bit. He’s pretty shook up about the whole thing, and as far as I know, he’s still in Vegas.”

  “I guess I should talk to him.”

  Samantha nodded. “Yeah, he might be helpful.”

  “Have you told him you’re hiring a PI?”

  “Yeah. He’s not thrilled about the idea, I think he just wants to move on. But I think he’ll help us – hang on.”

  Samantha pulled out her phone and I watched as she called Max and began explaining that she’d hired a PI. As I listened, I thought about Max’s reticence to investigate and remembered the old police cliché of “it’s usually the husband.”

  “Ask if we can come over now to talk to him,” I prompted Samantha. I wasn’t sure how long Max would stay in Vegas, and I didn’t want to miss an opportunity for a face-to-face chat.

  After a few minutes, Samantha hung up and turned to me. “He said he’ll help out as much as he can.”

  I nodded, and took a few seconds to look over my notes. “What did the cops say?”

  “Not much. They think she was mugged, and she was stabbed twice, most likely by one person.”

  I had a few more questions, but I figured I should ask them while Max was also there. “Why don’t you come with me when I go to see Max?”

  Samantha nodded, settled the bill, and walked with me to the parking lot. I got into my ’99 Accord, and she stepped into a brand-new red convertible.

  After I watched her drive away, I called my mother.

  “Tiffany Black!” she said as soon as she picked up. “What are you doing in Neil’s Diner? You’re not – you’re not looking for work nearby, are you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “What makes you think I’m in Neil’s?”

  “Your nanna’s friend’s brother, Louie, saw you walk in. What’s going on?”

  I sighed. Nanna had moved to Vegas ten years ago to live with my parents, and though she’s not a local, she quickly infiltrated Vegas’ Mafia-like Old People’s Gang. She and her friends are never up to any good, and seem to know every other person who lives here. A rumor can never die safely with them around.

  “I’m just talking to a new client,” I told my mother.

  “For PI work?” she asked suspiciously, and I sighed.

  “Yes. For PI work. What other kind of work would I do?”

  “I don’t want to even think about that,” my mother said. “Why can’t you just get a regular job, where you don’t have to walk into places like Neil’s Diner?”

  “Neil’s Diner isn’t so bad,” I told her. “And I have to go now, I’m late for a meeting.”

  I hung up before she could say anything else that would remind me of how big a disappointment I was to her, and headed over to The Palazzo, where Crystal’s boyfriend Max was staying.

  Chapter Five

  Maxwell Gomez was not what I’d expected. He was stocky, balding and obviously distressed about Crystal’s death.

  “I shouldn’t have let her go out that night,” he told us. “I asked her if I should go with her, but she said it was a work party and I’d be bored.”

  He sat miserably on the edge of the hotel sofa, head resting on one hand. We were sitting in the “living” area of his Palazzo VIP suite, with its cream leather sofas and bright abstract artwork. At my request, Max had given us a quick tour; the place was larger than my condo, obviously much cleaner and came complete with in-room hot-tub and gorgeous views down the Strip.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t have come down here,” he continued. “But it was our three year anniversary, and I wanted to do something nice for her.”

  And he had, I thought, trying not to feel jealous. In addition to the massive suite, I was pretty sure he’d also been shelling out for fancy dinners and shows, and probably a nice gift or two.

  “That reminds me,” I said. “Samantha told me you’d given Crystal a diamond ring she wore that night.”

  “Yes.” He got up, and retrieved the ring from a box nearby. “The cops kept it in evidence for a bit, but they gave it back to me because they think the case is solved. Speaking of which,” he glanced from me to Samantha, “I don’t know about this PI stuff. I mean, it’s hard enough to accept that she’s gone. I don’t – don’t like the idea of –”

  He paused, unable to find the right words, but I knew what he meant. He wanted to accept the closure provided by the cops, grieve and move on with life. At least, I thought that’s what he meant.

  Samantha nodded sympathetically, and said, “Honey, we all want to put this horrible thing behind us. But what if the cops were wrong? I owe it to Crystal to do this. I know you understand…”

  Max sighed. “I guess you’re right.” He turned to me and said, “What did you want to ask?”

  “Well, for starters, how long are you in Vegas for?”

  “Till Friday. I’ve also got meetings with local clients till the weekend.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m a quant at CBN Investments.”

  I looked at him, puzzled, and Max began explaining his work to me eagerly – something about neural networks and deltas and investments. It didn’t make much sense, but I made my “Ah! Now I get it!” face and smiled and nodded.

  When he was done explaining, I turned my attention back to the ring he’d given me. It was an anniversary band, white gold and studded with diamonds all the way around. Whatever his job was, clearly it involved earning lots of money.

  “Tell me about Crystal,” I said. “What was she like?”

  Max’s face transformed into a dreamy reverie. “She’s wonderful. Beautiful and kind and funny. Generous. Smart. I never thought she’d go for a guy like me – she’s gorgeous enough to have any guy in the world, but she picked me.”

  “Why do you think tha
t was?”

  Max shrugged. “I was good to her, I guess. I supported her, loved her – I gave her anything she wanted. But any guy would do that for a woman like Crystal. I guess I was just lucky.”

  He sighed deeply, and I wondered how much of their relationship was based on him giving her “anything she wanted.” It was tempting to ask him what he got her for her last birthday, but instead, I said, “I hate to ask this, but was Crystal… did you ever suspect any other guy of being with her?”

  Max laughed. “This is Hollywood we’re talking about. Every other guy hit on Crystal, some sleazy director or screenwriter was always thinking she’d sleep with them.”

  “And did she?”

  He shook his head, no. “I would’ve known. And I think she would’ve just broken up with me, instead of cheating on me. I get a bit jealous sometimes, but she had standards. Morals. A lotta guys offered to get her roles in movies, but she always said no. She was ambitious; she wanted to do it all herself, the right way.” He looked at me, his eyes shining with belief. “There was no-one else.”

  I glanced at Samantha, who was looking intently out the window. “What about enemies? Was there anyone who might want to hurt her?”

  “No, she was a sweetheart. Always got along with everyone.” He paused for a moment and frowned. “Unless that stalker thing wasn’t a joke.”

  Samantha turned around and we exchanged glances. She said, “What stalker thing?”

  Max said, “She never said anything to you?” He got up, walked over to the desk and sorted through some paperwork. “Here.”

  He handed me an envelope, and I opened it to find stacks of photos. Crystal talking with some other girls, Crystal doing her grocery shopping, Crystal looking over her shoulder.

  I frowned. “What’re these?”

  Max turned to Samantha and asked, “Crystal never told you anything about the stalker?”

  Samantha looked as puzzled as I felt and shook her head.

  “She got these in the mail. I asked her what was going on, but she just laughed and said a friend of hers was being funny and pretending to be a stalker. Pretending like she was a big movie star. It was a joke, she said.”