Creeping with the Enemy

by Kimberly Reid

  “He thinks you cheated him, but he probably knows you used Bethanie to do it,” I say, and yeah, I probably sound more than a little judgmental now. “I’m guessing you have to move so often because DeLong isn’t the first person you cheated. What I can’t figure out is how you do it.”

  “DeLong ran these private parties in Atlanta, illegal casinos. I always took E with me,” he explains, forgetting to use Bethanie’s alias. I guess he figures it’s pointless now. “We had a system of signals so we could communicate. She’d count cards when I played blackjack, and figured the probability of cards played versus cards in the deck when I played poker.”

  “DeLong let her join the games?” Lana asks.

  “No, she sat off to the side of my table. It was easier when she was younger. People just figured I was too lazy to find a babysitter, and she’d bring some toy and pretend to play when she was really watching the cards.”

  “So you’ve been running this hustle long before Atlanta,” I say. “And as soon as someone started to catch on to your scam, you had to leave town.”

  “It got harder to pull off as E got older. I told players she was younger than she really was, or made up excuses like she had an illness that required constant supervision. When she was a kid, she was really into it, like we had this secret mission between us. I thought she liked the cards, and hanging out with me.”

  “She thought that was the only way you’d pay attention to her,” I say, “so she probably did enjoy it at first. At some point, she just wanted to be a regular girl who went to the same school long enough to make friends, have a boyfriend, go on a date.”

  “You right, I see it now. Her being mad at me was probably what made her less careful with the signals. DeLong figured it out one night. It was the first time we’d ever been caught outright. I’d always managed to get out of town before anyone put two and two together.”

  “What did DeLong do when he found out?” Lana asks.

  “He let us go that night, saying I had two days to give him back every cent I ever cheated him of. Thought I’d caught a lucky break and started to take my usual steps to get us out of town before his deadline, but he’d been watching us, knew our routines. The next morning, before we could leave town, E went for a run.”

  “I never knew she was a runner,” I say, though I don’t know why since it’s the least important thing he’s said so far. There’s so much I didn’t know about Bethanie, and now I’m finding I knew even less than I thought.

  “Oh yeah, she got awards and medals in track and field at a couple of those schools. Running was her favorite thing, until that morning. Now she never runs.”

  So those awards in her room weren’t only for math bowls.

  “What happened that morning?” Falcone asks. He’s relaxed enough that his hand is no longer hovering near his holster.

  “One of DeLong’s men grabbed her.”

  Mrs. Larsen lets out a little sound, maybe the sound of guilt for letting her husband use Bethanie for years, and the whole feeling in the room changes. I remember Bethanie’s words: You don’t know nothing about me or where I come from. I can tell you now—I’m never going back.

  Mr. Larsen must sense the change, too, because he’s quick to add, “DeLong didn’t hurt her, just held her for a day to let me know he meant business.”

  “You mean he didn’t physically harm her,” Lana says, looking over at me. “She must have been terrified.”

  “Soon as he released her, I went straight to the cops, offered to testify against him in exchange for witness protection.”

  Mr. Larsen says this like it should pardon him from everything else he did. What I’m hoping will happen is Lana will go upside his head with the collapsible baton she keeps hidden in an ankle holster.

  But the baton stays hidden, and Lana just says, “If you were suddenly so concerned for your daughter’s well-being, why didn’t you follow through with the testimony and take the protection?”

  “I thought we could hide ourselves with all that lottery money.”

  “We could have,” Mrs. Larsen finally speaks, “if you hadn’t started gambling again. You know these crime families have eyes all over the place, in all the casinos.”

  I look at Lana. So do the police.

  “I don’t think the Family had eyes in the casinos,” I say. “They probably figured you needed your gambling fix but weren’t crazy enough to try that, which is why Cole was looking for you at racetracks and OTB windows.”

  “Why he need to look for me anywhere if he’s been watching the house?”

  “True,” I say, stumped when I was on such a roll. I hate that.

  Lana says, “That doesn’t matter now. He’s kidnapped her again and this time it isn’t just to send a message. Chanti, I think you’re right about the ransom,” Lana says.

  “But why does Cole want Bethanie to teach him card games?” I ask.

  “If you’re right about where they might be right now, maybe he plans to fill his time waiting for his orders from DeLong by making money the way Larsen did. Or he thinks by pushing this poker and math thing with Bethanie, he’ll get her to open up about it, admit she helped her father cheat DeLong.”

  “Why does he need to do that? Her father just said they already know he did.”

  “Cole is trying to get made quickly in the Family, but we know he’s a rookie. You didn’t get the feeling Cole could hurt Bethanie. Maybe this is more difficult for him than he imagined. Maybe he needs confirmation, to hear the evidence for himself.”

  “Justification before he ...” I can’t even finish the thought.

  “Maybe it is just the ransom theory, Chanti,” Lana says, remembering she isn’t talking to a cop no matter how good a detective I am.

  “So why hasn’t he contacted me to make his demands?” Mr. Larsen asks.

  “It’s all the more reason we need to get moving with our plan. Chanti still has Bethanie’s trust, though we believe it may now become more difficult to communicate with her because Cole is growing suspicious,” Lana explains. “Bethanie doesn’t know I’m a cop, but she’s aware Chanti helped the police bring down that burglary ring. She’s probably told Cole that Chanti is a bit of a snoop.”

  “No one DeLong would send out to get me would be afraid of a little girl.”

  “Probably not, but he won’t take the chance that Bethanie will inadvertently give Chanti clues about where they are. He’ll probably prevent any more contact between them. Lucky for us, Chanti already has a good idea where they are. We’re going to follow her hunch since it’s the best lead we have. We’re going to Las Vegas, hopefully to bring your daughter home.”

  Chapter 27

  While we kill time working on MJ’s bio homework and watching a Murder, She Wrote marathon until Lana comes back to the hotel room, I try to convince MJ she made the right decision coming with Lana and me to Vegas. With most people, I can run a con as well as any professional, but MJ isn’t buying my story.

  “You know how I feel about snitching. Now I’m working with the cops? If the Homies ever found out ...”

  “How would they?”

  “The only reason you and the cops are here is because of information I got from the Homies.”

  MJ gets up to look in the minibar refrigerator for the umpteenth time. It’s killing her that Coke and Oreos are just there for the taking—well, for six dollars each—and she can’t touch them. Lana swore us off the minibar.

  “I would have figured it out eventually. Your information just helped speed things up. And that’s what we’ll say if it ever came out you helped, which it never will.”

  “Don’t see why I needed to be here, anyway. Ever heard of the telephone?”

  “They don’t want to talk about this over the phone.”

  “Please—cops don’t use phones?”

  “It isn’t just the cops. The feds are working on this,” I say, which I shouldn’t have.

  “Just call your mother and have her shoot me now,” she
says, slamming the little refrigerator door closed. “Might as well die at the hand of someone I know.”

  “You aren’t going to die. Not by a Vegas Homie sneaking up on you, anyway.”

  “How then? You know something I don’t?”

  See, this is what I mean about not being good with the people part of detective work. I never seem to say the right thing. Most times the truth works, so I give it a try.

  “You’re not here because the phone lines might be tapped or because the feds asked for you. I wanted you to come because I’m afraid to do this. Lana thinks I can help her get Cole, talk Bethanie into meeting me and get her in a position for the cops to rescue her. I’m a thinker. The very thought of getting that close to the actual thing going down makes me want to puke.”

  “So you want me here to have your back.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You could’ve just said that from the beginning.”

  “No one likes to admit they’re a wuss.”

  “You do. You’re always saying that, how you’re afraid. But seriously, you’re kind of badass and don’t even know it.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “You took down a burglary ring. A thug pulled a gun on you but you’re here to tell about it. Now you’re helping the cops find a fugitive witness and you’re about to save your friend from a mob hit man. I’m sorry, but all that is way badass.”

  We’re both quiet for a few minutes, watching Jessica Fletcher nab yet another killer in Cabot Cove, because we don’t know what to say after such a Hallmark moment. Well, I don’t imagine Hallmark would have a moment that involved a mob hit man and gangsters pulling nine millimeters, but our version does and it’s just kind of awkward. While MJ flips around the channels, I take a look at the magazines on the coffee table. From the looks of them, all there is to do in Las Vegas is gamble, shop, and eat. I imagine it would be smart to do them in reverse order though; the people who gamble first probably don’t have any money left to do the other two.

  When I land on a full page ad for our hotel, I realize I’ve sent Lana and her team to stake out the wrong place. Based on the noise in the background when Bethanie called me and what I read on her reverse bucket list, my best guess was she told Cole she wanted to stay at Circus Circus, still trying to do all the things she never got to do as a kid when her father was dragging her around to illegal card games. Her parents had confirmed for me that she still hadn’t been to the circus that they knew of (or the zoo, or Disney on Ice—not that I’m being judgmental), but I’d never asked them if she’d been to an amusement park. Given their track record, I’m thinking it isn’t a stretch to say she hasn’t.

  “Bethanie’s not at the Circus Circus hotel.”

  “So why’d you tell your mom she was?”

  “Because I just figured it out.”

  “Where is she, then?”

  “Right here, same place we are. See?” I say, showing her the ad. “There’s a roller coaster inside this building. Who would have thought you could put a roller coaster inside a building?”

  “I guess if they can build the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, and the pyramids all on one street, they could put a roller coaster inside a building.”

  “Come on, MJ. We have to go.”

  “Go where? I’m about to eat those Oreos and I don’t care what your mom says.”

  “I’ll buy you a whole box of Oreos downstairs. We need to find Bethanie and Cole.”

  MJ looks at me like I’ve lost it, but she follows me out the door.

  “So what are we gonna do if they’re here? It’s not like we can knock on two thousand doors.”

  “It’s better than sitting in our room. There’s pretty much no chance of seeing them in there. We’ll call Lana, she’ll get some of the team moved over here, and in the meantime, we’ll watch the lobby.”

  Soon as we get off the elevator on the main floor, I see how stupid my plan is. First, there is more than one way to get into the hotel and we can’t watch them both. Second, I think every tourist in Las Vegas is probably walking around in the main lobby alone. MJ and I sit down next to some plants and a waterfall and I give Lana a call. Once she and some more cops get here, my plan will be a lot more effective.

  “What did she say?” MJ asks when I end our call.

  “She’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. They’re going to leave a detail at the other hotel, but she said we have to follow any lead.”

  “So we just wait here for her?”

  “Don’t be so nervous. The police aren’t looking for you, remember?”

  “Right. It’s just a habit. When I hear the cops are coming, I’m used to running, not waiting around to give ’em a tour.”

  Even though it’s nearly impossible to pick someone out of the hordes, I give it a try. MJ is pretty useless in helping me because she’s never seen Cole or Bethanie except in photos, which is never the same as knowing someone for real. Especially in this crowd.

  “So how many are coming? That will be a lot of doors to knock on.”

  “She’s bringing a subpoena to make management show her the guest list.”

  “Like they checked in under their real names.”

  “Good point. But they should at least narrow it down to the dates people checked in. Maybe if I see the list even a fake name will jump out at me.”

  We watch people moving past, getting on the elevator, getting off, half of them drunk and it’s only noon. These Vegas people are brilliant, giving away free alcohol so people can lose their money even faster.

  “You really think this dude won’t hurt your friend?” MJ asks, startling me because I was so focused on watching the people filing past, hoping I might catch a glimpse of them.

  “I don’t know for sure. But I didn’t get that feeling from him, and I’ve been around enough scary people to know. Mostly I’m just hoping he won’t,” I say, realizing that my feeling about Cole might be more wishful thinking than an honest-to-God hunch.

  “You didn’t get that feeling from Donnell, and he ended up trying to kill you.”

  “I wasn’t seeing him straight,” I say, never taking my eyes off the crowd. “When you grow up with a kid, play dodgeball with him and drink his mother’s lemonade on a hot day, you figure he won’t grow up to kill you.”

  “I tried to warn you about him.”

  “I’ll listen to you next time.”

  People keep walking by. I figure the ones who look sober and happy probably just arrived. They’re sober because they haven’t found out about the free alcohol yet and happy because they still have all their money. Next comes a tour guide trying to yell over the slot machine that has loudly repeated “WHEEL OF FORTUNE” about a thousand times since I sat down next to it. Her group is beyond geriatric, so they’re having a hard time hearing her. For that matter, I’m having a hard time hearing, and she’s standing right in front of me. I’m about to suggest to MJ that we find a quieter spot to run our surveillance when I spot Bethanie and Cole heading for the elevator.

  “There they are. Bethanie’s okay!” I say, relieved and happy, but only for a second. “Oh snap, MJ. Lana’s still ten minutes away.”

  “What do we do?”

  “We follow them. Bethanie is fine now, but who’s to say this is not the day he’s going to do something. Even once Lana gets here, she’ll have to give the subpoena to the hotel, go over the list. That’ll take forever. Let’s just follow and we’ll call her once we see which floor they get off on.”

  I’m saying all this to MJ as we walk to the elevator, not noticing that the geriatric tour group has just separated us. It isn’t until I’m in the back of the huge elevator and the doors have closed that I realize MJ isn’t on with me. It’s just me, Cole, Bethanie, and half a retirement home.

  Chapter 28

  When the elevator doors open on the fifth floor, Bethanie and Cole, who have been silent at the front of the car during the short ride, get off. I’m grateful for the tour group between us because Cole a
nd Bethanie didn’t have a clue I was just three feet behind them. I wasn’t able to see Bethanie leave the elevator, but Cole was the tallest person onboard, and I definitely saw him leave. As soon as the doors open again, I get off with half the tour group on the tenth floor and look for the nearest stairwell. It takes forever to run down to the fifth floor, and the whole time I wonder why they didn’t request a higher level. I’d have expected Bethanie to demand nothing less than a penthouse suite, until I remember Mr. Larsen put a lock on her allowance.

  Now that I’m on the fifth floor, I’m not sure what I should do. Call Lana and then stake out the hallway until she gets here? Tell MJ where I am and wait for her so we can confront Cole? Since the first idea is the least confrontational, I go with that one. As I’m dialing Lana’s number, I get an idea of how to find Bethanie and Cole’s room, assuming they’re sharing one. I end the call to Lana and dial the prepaid phone Bethanie last called me from, hoping she hasn’t already thrown that one away, too.

  I don’t hear anything on the first ring so I start walking down the hall, slowing down at each set of doors listening for a ring. On the third ring, I hear something but haven’t pinpointed the room when my call goes to voice mail. She’s got a nerve ignoring my calls, not that I didn’t expect it. Bethanie must know by now that I’m going to curse her out and tell her to get home if she does pick up, which she won’t, so I call again.

  This time I’m able to tell the exact room the ring is coming from—room 501, north end of the hallway, last room before the door to the stairwell. Cole is smart. He has a fast getaway if the cops—or the bad guys—get between him and the elevator. That also explains the low floor. He could be out of the room and downstairs mixed into the crowd on the casino floor in under a minute. They must be sharing 501 because Cole wouldn’t have time to grab Bethanie from another room and make his escape. Amazing how much cops and bad guys think alike.

  I listen at the door while I text MJ my location, ready to jump into the stairwell if the voices get close to the door. The voices are muffled, but I do hear Bethanie say my name. She’s probably telling Cole who was calling her. I finish the text to MJ and I’m about to start one to Lana when I hear Bethanie scream.