Dardan nodded slowly but didn't look at me straight away. He had his arms folded across his chest.
"Ja, Mr. Hartley is a handful sometimes, but he spends a lot of money here so we treat him well. But when he starts upsetting too many guests we have to ask him to leave."
Dardan looked at Bill and nodded at him. Bill cued up more video for us.
"Mr. Hartley likes to drink. You know how it is, as long as you're at the table playing you get free drinks. He makes good use of that. We watched him lose a few hands and then win a few hands. He's a nice guy when he's sober, but when he's been drinking he's what you call a mean drunk. Look."
We turned to look at the video Bill had cued up. Hartley was standing and pointing and gesturing at the other players. His face was a mask of ridicule. A third security member we hadn't met yet came up to him. He was a hulking black man with short dreadlocks.
"That's Brandon Jensen," said Dardan behind my left shoulder.
Brandon put a big hand on Hartley's shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Hartley turned around and nodded at him, then he turned back said something else to the other players. Ruby was looking at one of them before she lowered her head and looked away and followed Hartley who had collected his chips.
Brandon escorted Hartley to the cashier where he cashed in all his chips except for one. He peeled some money off the roll and gave it to Ruby. Then Brandon escorted both of them outside. We lost sight of the three of them. A couple of minutes later Brandon came back into the casino where Bill froze the frame.
"He was gone a while," I said.
"Ja, when we escort our guests out who have won a bit of money, we make sure they get out of here safely. Brandon was doing that. We don't want them followed and then carjacked at the first set of lights."
"Ruby works for the casino, right?" I asked.
Dardan nodded.
"So why did she leave with Hartley?"
"It was the end of her shift. She's free to do whatever she wants."
"What about the other players at that table? Any of them regulars?"
Dardan leaned down.
"Go back," he said to Bill.
Bill wound the tape back to Hartley standing and berating the other players. Dardan started pointing at the other players with his finger.
"The Russian isn't a regular. This guy is Mr. Marshall Allen. Not as regular as Mr. Hartley. He comes in about once a month or so to play for a few hours. This guy here is in weekly. His name is Mr. Noah Rowley, he's got an English accent. This guy has come in a few times. Mr. Germain Velázquez. Quiet guy, don't know much about him. Good poker player."
"Does Ruby know him?" I asked.
"I don't think so," said Dardan. "Why?"
"Looks like she's looking at him," I said.
I pointed at her and then at Germain.
"Can you go forward slowly?" I said.
Bill moved the tape forward.
"There," I said. "Looks like she's nodding at him."
Roberts looked at me.
"You think so?"
I nodded.
"Could be the way she's just turning away," he said.
"Could be."
Dardan and Bill didn't say anything.
"Can we speak to her?" I asked, turning to Dardan.
He nodded and left to get her.
All In: Chapter Four
"If she just got off shift when she left with Hartley, why is she back here?"
"They'll often come back here if they've forgotten their things," offered Bill.
I looked at him.
"She left with just her handbag," he said, pointing to the video of her leaving with Hartley. "Employees have lockers here and they'll often keep a change of clothes. She probably came back to change."
"And it takes her that long?"
Bill smiled at me indulgently, like I was an infant who needed coddling.
"She's probably waiting for Ms. Rodrigues to get off shift. They're friends and they often carpool together."
"Thanks," said Roberts. "There you go, Anthony. Your conspiracy is a dud."
Dardan walked back into the video room where we were all waiting. Roberts and I were watching the activity below us on the gaming floor. Little ants collecting and tossing away small brightly colored chips. I was bored to tears. I turned to see Dardan walk back in and wondered where Ruby was. She appeared from behind him like a rabbit from a hat.
She was an unnatural blonde, and I didn't hold it against her. Her skin was tanned and warm and it sparkled. Must have been the lotion she had on. She wore black yoga pants and a pink top to match her sandals. She was dolled up and painted like a Barbie doll.
"Ruby?" asked Roberts.
She nodded and bit her lower lip. It might have been cute on a five year old getting into trouble for tearing the head off her doll, but on a thirty-something woman it made me cringe for her. It had the opposite affect on Roberts. He walked up to her like a protective father and offered her his limp hand.
"I'm Captain Roberts from homicide."
"Oh dear," she said, blinking her false eyelashes at him.
She ignored me completely, moving closer to Roberts than was necessary. I could smell her cheap perfume from across the room. She'd probably bathed in it.
"That's Anthony Carrick," he said, nodding in my direction. She didn't look away from him.
"Has something bad happened, Captain?" she asked Roberts, gently touching his forearm. I was rolling my eyes so much I started feeling sick. I moved up to be closer to both of them. I started to pull out my phone and show her the picture of her dead John. Roberts put his arm out, and said it wasn't necessary.
"Can you tell me about your evening with Mr. Hartley?"
Ruby put her hand to her mouth.
"Did something happen to him?" she asked, wide-eyed as a doe staring down the barrel of a hunter.
"I'm afraid so, Ms. Aponte..."
"Please call me Ruby," she said, batting her eyes at him as if they were delicate butterflies.
"Mr. Hartley was murdered tonight," said Roberts as solemnly as he could muster.
"Dear God," said Ruby, "poor Mars."
She batted her eyes and turned on the waterworks. I had a feeling it was all for show, but maybe she did genuinely feel bad for the guy. Roberts put his hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he said like a caring uncle, "but I need to ask you some questions."
She nodded and squeezed out a few more tears for good measure. If this was a movie I'd have walked out already.
"Tell me what happened tonight?"
Dardan had left again to do something he hadn't bothered telling us about. I didn't care. I wanted to run down the Russian and check out Mr. Velázquez.
"Dardan must have told you about the Russian man who threatened Mars tonight. I thought he was going to kill him."
"What did this Russian say?" asked Roberts.
"He said he was going to get his money back and if he didn't then he said that Mars was a dead man. Do you think he really did it?"
"We're still looking into it. I understand you left with Mr. Hartley at around eleven this evening?"
Ruby nodded and pulled a tissue from under her waistband to dab at her eyes.
"Mr. Hartley was such a nice man. I loved him," she said. "He always treated me so well. I'd been seeing him for a few months, and he wanted to celebrate his winnings this evening with me."
Roberts nodded reassuringly.
"I've been told he was a poor loser but a worse winner."
Ruby smiled.
"He was just misunderstood," she said. "He never meant it. Sometimes he just got a bit excitable when he'd had too much to drink.
"So you went back to his hotel room?"
Ruby nodded and bit her lip again for good measure. Roberts was hypnotized.
"I was just there for a little while. I left sometime after midnight. I was back here by twelve thirty. I'm sure anyone here can verify that."
"Did you notic
e anything unusual or anyone following you to the hotel room?"
Ruby shook his head.
"I don't think so. Brandon followed us out to make sure. We do that so that our customers aren't robbed out in the parking lot. Mars didn't seem particularly concerned about anyone. I asked him about the Russian, but he just blew it off saying that the guy was just talking big but he wouldn't follow through."
"Thank you, Ruby," said Roberts. "I think that's all."
She nodded and was about to turn around when I stopped her.
"Can you tell me about Germain Velázquez," I said.
She looked me up and down like I was a menu and she wanted a piece of me. I had plenty on offer.
"Who?" she asked, but her hesitation gave her away.
"The man you were making eye contact with before you and Hartley were escorted out."
Roberts looked at me as if I'd just gone mad.
"I'm sorry, I don't know who you mean."
She was trying to play me like a cheap fiddle. But there were two problems with that. I wasn't cheap and I wasn't a fiddle. I turned to Bill.
"Can you bring up that video again?" I asked him. He did as I asked. I pointed at the man with slicked back black hair and a well groomed goatee.
"That Mr. Velázquez," I said.
"Oh, yes, I know him. He's fairly regular but I'm not looking at him."
"I see," I said, looking right through her at her black heart.
"You'll have to excuse my partner, he gets grumpy when he hasn't had his beauty sleep."
She smiled at Roberts and batted her eyes before turning around and walking her tight ass out of the room. I liked her better from the back. She wasn't lying to me then. We made our way out after verifying that she did in fact reenter Rustler Casino at twelve thirty-seven a.m. Whether that was an alibi was yet to be determined.
"I sometimes wonder why I bring you along with me," said Roberts in all seriousness.
"Because I make you look good," I said.
"I'm serious," he said.
I stopped and looked at him and thought for a moment.
"I never left a case unsolved," I said. "Sometimes you've gotta think with your big head, Johnny. You're still too sentimental and soft when it comes to a damsel in false distress."
I walked away letting him think about that. I lit up a cigarette and decided a Scotch was my best option for the rest of the evening.
All In: Chapter Five
I try to get up before noon. Seems to me if I can do that, then the day's not wasted. Today was not a good day. Teacher's had put me through a mean class last night. In short I had been schooled again by a Scotch whisky. Teacher's Highland Cream Perfection, and about the only perfect thing about it was the headache I was nursing.
I got up out of bed after slithering underneath the tattered fur ball of Pirate. The cat opened his one good eye and looked at me as if I was mad to be getting up so early. I reached for my phone and saw the time was twelve eleven. Almost made it out of bed before noon. It wasn't that bad all things considered. It was a Saturday after all.
I took a shower, a gallon of water and a bottle of aspirin. And by the time I stepped out of the bathroom clean-shaven I was starting to feel like I'd only been run over by a go-kart. Roberts had called and left a message at eight. I listened to it. He said if I was interested he'd be interviewing Hartley's widow, Michelle, at one. I had to put some pep in my step, it was already quarter to. I fed Pirate, and walked out of my apartment wondering what the hell I'd done with my car.
My car was perfectly parked in my stall. In fact it had been reversed in. I scratched my head. There was no way in hell I'd have parked it that way in the state I must have been in. I got in and drove off towards Valley Village, when it started to come back to me. I remembered calling a driving service on the insistence of the barkeep at the Royal Cock. They'd driven me home. Reversing into my stall was a nice touch. I think I'd use them again, if I ever had another drink.
I rolled down the windows because it was hot. The radio announcer said it was eighty-five already and I felt it. A/C would've been nice but it was acting up. I was left with the only other option.
Valley Village was about a half hour away from where I was in Santa Monica. That meant I was gonna be late. Interesting thing about Valley Village is it used to be part of North Hollywood, but in the eighties much of San Fernando Valley wanted to create its own identity not associated with tinsel and tans. In the early nineties Valley Village got its way, and became a distinct community.
Not that you care, but I'm trying to fill in the time it takes for me to reach the Hartleys. Valley Village is what I'd call a lower middle income community. Most folks are renters and most are old for Angelinos, at an average age of thirty-six. That means in these parts I'm Methuselah.
I parked outside the five story apartment block and put out my cigarette. I walked into the lobby and buzzed 101. A woman let me in without even checking who I was. But then I figured she probably had Roberts with her. I was right.
It was ten after when she let me into the apartment. She was an average sized woman, thicker around the middle than she needed to be. She wore too much makeup, too much perfume and not enough clothes. Her blouse was open too low and her chest was freckled with liver spots and as loose as a turkey's wattle. I smiled at her and introduced myself to her as if she were the most charming woman in the world. She took to me like a bee to a flower.
I nodded at Roberts and he gave me a curt not back. I could tell he was still sore. I sat down on the worn couch next to him. In front of me was a coffee table. There was a clean mug, a pot of coffee and assorted cookies on it. Michelle invited me to have some. Coffee was exactly what I needed so I indulged her.
"Did I miss much?" I asked.
"We were just getting down to it. Mrs. Hartley was kind enough to make us some coffee."
I smiled at her, and she puffed up like a peacock. She was much like her late husband. Not that attractive but using all manner of paint, dye and preening to do the best she could with what she had. Her hair was brassy blonde, a thick crown around her head in large curls that looked carved from a cylinder of brass. I didn't know if this was a bereavement call or if she already knew. I figured we were the grim reaper's time keepers.
"Is everything alright with Marsden?" she asked.
She didn't know. I cursed under my breath. This had been the worst part of my job. I loathed having to inform the families of the death of their loved ones.
"I'm afraid that's why we're here, ma'am," said Roberts.
"Please call me Michelle," she said, and I could already see her veneer crack like a cheap LA highway.
"I'm afraid your husband was found murdered early this morning," said Roberts.
I took a sip of my coffee and swallowed hard. We all waited for a while to let it sink in. Michelle nodded. She swallowed a thick wad of hurt down into her gut, and her eyes teared up.
"Could you excuse me for a moment?"
She didn't wait for Roberts' response. She left the dining room and disappeared down the hallway. I looked at Roberts and he looked at me back. I took a cookie and ate it. I listened to the traffic whirring by, oblivious to the unfolding chaos all about us. And I knew that this one, this time I would get justice. Even if Marsden had been a prick.
After a few minutes, Michelle came back into the room wearing a brave smile that kept slipping off. She dabbed at her eyes, redder than mine. Roberts smiled at her.
"We're very sorry for your loss, Michelle," he said.
He was good at this sort of thing. Better than I was. I felt like folding myself up and tucking myself away under the sofa cushions. Roberts waited for a moment. Michelle took a sip of coffee.
"As you must know," Roberts continued, "we need to ask a few questions if you don't mind."
The brave smile and a nod of the head. Roberts was about to enter a minefield. How much of her husband's philandering was she aware of? How was he going to handle this hornet's nest?<
br />
"Can you tell me what your husband was doing last night?"
That was a gentle, wide open question. He was good. That's why he was captain.
"Once a month he liked to go gambling. He said he was going to be spending the weekend at the Rustler Casino. He usually finds a cheap hotel somewhere nearby."
"Your husband was a veteran," said Roberts. "I understand he was discharged with a small pension after suffering injuries in Afghanistan?"
Michelle nodded.
"He was so proud of his service. He made major, but he didn't like being at headquarters when his men were out there. He wanted to join them, and so he did, but that's what got him injured. He could have stayed on doing paperwork but that wasn't his thing so he decided to get pensioned out."
"I'd like you to help me understand your financial situation. Your husband drives a 2005 M5, which is not a cheap car, and, if you'll forgive me, you live in Valley Village in a one bedroom apartment. A military pension can't be much more than about three grand. How did your husband afford his car for instance?"
"You're right, Captain," she said. "The pension wasn't much. Less than three thousand per month, and I don't work, because Marsden didn't want me to. I offered but he wouldn't hear of it. That's just the way he was, but it bothered me. He's never been consistent with winning. The car for instance he won in 2005, his first year out of the army, at a local poker tournament. And frankly that didn't help him, because it made him feel like he was some sort of poker star. But he lost more often than he won."
"I'm sorry," said Roberts. "That must be difficult."
"It is," said Michelle, dabbing at her eyes again. "He was a good man until his injury in Afghanistan. Something happened to him over there. And I don't just mean the physical injury. I sometimes wonder if a part of his mind or soul was left there. He was never the same when he came back. He was moody and angry and he took to drinking and gambling. He'd never gambled before. Not more than the occasional poker night with the boys."
Roberts nodded as I drank my coffee and ate a second jam filled cookie.
"We noticed that he was wearing a NY Giants' Super Bowl ring."
Michelle nodded and smiled weakly.
Four Ways To Midnight (An Anthony Carrick Short Story Collection Book 1) Page 10