Simon Chase’s phone began ringing again. Bitsy frowned.
“Where’d you get that fancy phone?”
I looked at the number of the incoming call, and it wasn’t the one Bruce Manning had used. On reflex, I answered it.
“Yes?” I asked, not bothering to disguise my voice now.
“Who is this?” The English accent came through loud and clear.
“Oh, hi, Simon. It’s me, Brett.” My tone was casual, like I was expecting his call. His call on his phone. What was I-insane?
“The police said Jeff Coleman had my phone.”
Okay, I’d spilled the beans on that one; how to explain how I got the phone? Why not try the truth?
“He gave it to me to give to you. I guess he figured we’d see each other, you know, after last night.” There it was again, that affected accent. With a distinctively chilly tone around the corners.
He didn’t seem to notice.“Oh, well, yes.” His own tone had softened. “I would very much like to see you again. And I certainly would like my phone back. Shall we meet? Dinner?”
I didn’t want to go back to Versailles. I felt too vulnerable there. I wanted him off his own turf. And I wanted to be on mine.
“Can you come here? There are a couple of nice places to eat at the Venetian,” I suggested.
He was quiet a second, probably checking his schedule, then, “That’s a splendid idea. Then I can see your shop. How’s eight o’clock?” There was an eagerness in his voice. Sure, he wanted to see my shop. Then he could search it, too. I saw this now as a bad idea, but I couldn’t go back on it without raising his suspicions. Bitsy would be here, and probably Joel would be back by then. I wouldn’t be a sitting duck, like Ace had been last night.
“I’d like that,” I said, forcing my voice to sound normal, but it still came out stilted.
“Shall I make reservations somewhere?” he asked.
Wouldn’t you know a kidnapper and murderer would be the most chivalrous guy I’d been interested in in a long time. Just my luck. I’d fall for him and he’d end up in the slammer, twenty-five to life, and I’d be signing up for conjugal visits every six months.
Every six months seemed like a good idea, considering it had been longer than that since the last time I got naked with someone.
What was wrong with me? That kiss-oh, that kiss-had just been a ruse to distract me from Elise.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said, hoping that by doing so I could maintain control over this situation.
“Lovely. See you then.” And he hung up.
“You’ll take care of what?”
Bitsy’s voice made me jump about five feet in the air.
“Don’t do that,” I said, a little too harshly.
“Sorry.” While I was frosty, she was definitely sarcastic. I immediately felt bad.
“No, I’m sorry. I think I’m just freaking out. Too much crap in the past few days.”
She nodded. “Know what you mean.” She paused. “Would you mind… well, if I took the rest of the day off and went home? I’m a little freaked out, too.”
But she was supposed to hang around so I could have backup when Simon Chase showed up.
Bitsy’s face was showing the strain of the day, and I couldn’t keep her here. She’d already done so much.
I nodded. “Go home. Get some rest. Hopefully we’ll be back to normal tomorrow. I’ll finish up here.”
The relief that crossed her face made me feel even worse.
“Thanks, Brett.”
She gathered up her purse and went to the door, turning just before she left. “Lock up behind me. Don’t let any strangers in.”
That was all there were out there-strangers. As I did what she said, I watched the people moving past the door, looking as they passed but not attempting to come in. I went over to the mahogany desk and sat in the leather chair. Joel should be back soon. I’d be a lot less jittery then.
Bitsy had replaced the mess of the purple orchid with the old white one. I wondered where she’d had it stashed so it survived the melee. It still wasn’t looking good. I reached over and touched the dirt. It was bone-dry.
I kept pressing down on the dirt around the orchid’s stem. My finger penetrated the soil and I pulled it out, my fingernail black. Shaking off the excess, I went to get some water for the flower. I filled a glass in the bathroom, trying not to look in the mirror. I still hadn’t changed out of the ill-fitting shirt, and dark circles accentuated my eyes.
I poured the water around the base of the orchid and watched it seep into the dirt. As I turned to take the glass back, something glinted at me.
I stuck my finger into the soil again. It was wet this time, and I knew I was going to have to seriously wash my hands. But my finger caught on something, and I dragged it up.
The largest diamond ring I’d ever seen sparkled brightly as it caught the overhead light, casting a gleam against the wall and Ace’s Mona Lisa.
I’d seen this diamond before.
But the last time it had been on Elise Lyon’s finger.
Chapter 52
This was what Matthew was looking for. I could bet on it. And I’d win. What are those odds in Vegas?
Elise must have stuck it in the plant when she was here. Why, though? Because it was Chip’s ring and she was going to run off and marry Matt? Why wouldn’t she just give it back-or keep it? It must be worth something.
Bruce Manning’s words on the phone jolted my brain. He’d said he didn’t care what Simon Chase did with the girl, but he wanted it back. Must be the ring. So it was worth something.
I turned it over in my hand, watching the colors change in it. It was spectacular.
For a second I had a crazy thought.
I didn’t have to give it back. While they thought it was here, they’d already trashed the place and hadn’t found it. Who would be the wiser?
I would. I couldn’t do that. I had to give it back.
But to whom?
Elise was the logical choice. Granted, she’d left it here, abandoned it for anyone to find. But it was hers-and her decision whether she wanted to give it back to her former fiancé or his father.
She wasn’t exactly accessible right now, though. Simon Chase and Matthew had her. They must have asked her where the ring was-maybe that was what was going on at Viva Las Vegas last night when I saw Matthew taking her out of there. She must have refused to tell them, since Matthew ended up here and hadn’t found it.
Was she going to show up dead now? Or were they still trying to get the ring’s hiding place out of her and then they’d do away with her?
Had Kelly Masters known about the ring and refused to say where it was? Was that why she was killed? And Matt. What about Matt?
I was having dinner with Simon Chase in a few hours. Like I would be able to act natural now.
Maybe I could try to get something out of him about Elise. Where she was, what was going on. No. A dinner date wasn’t going to soften him up enough for him to spill his guts about his crime. Tim’s wire was another idea. It didn’t work with Jeff, but I knew Chase would show up. He wasn’t on the lam.
I dialed Tim’s number but only got voice mail. I left a cryptic message, asking him to call as soon as he could.
I’d been turning the ring over and over in my hand and now slipped it on my finger. It looked good. But how could it not? I remembered that other ring, the one Paul had given me. It was a quarter the size of this, but it had felt bigger. Heavier.
I couldn’t wear the ring. I didn’t want to leave it behind, either. What if Matthew came back and decided to give it another go?
I stuck the ring in my skirt pocket as I went back to the staff room and into the bathroom, changing into my tank top and throwing the poofy shirt on the light table. As I started to go back out, I heard the front door open. Peeking out, I saw Joel lumbering in, his face drawn and tired like Bitsy’s, like mine.
He pulled me into a hug.
“He’s okay,” he
said into my hair.
I nodded, carefully extracting myself. “I know. I’m glad. It could’ve been worse.”
Joel shrugged. “That’s the funny thing.”
“What’s funny?”
“Ace said it was more like an accident.”
“Accident how? I mean, his face was all bloody. He had a concussion.”
Joel took a deep breath. “Ace said the guy came in, pushed him around a little. Ace told him there wasn’t any cash. When the guy went into the staff room, Ace tried to be a freaking hero and jumped him. The guy hit him across the nose, but didn’t break it. Ace said he fell then-it wasn’t because the guy pushed him-and he slammed his head against the floor and then passed out.”
“Sounds like it was convenient,” I said.
“Yeah, maybe. But weird. It looked like the guy had beaten Ace to a pulp, but when he got all cleaned up, it had just been a bloody nose, and he’d bitten his tongue when he hit the floor, which bled like crazy.”
We pondered that a few seconds, not really knowing the significance.
“But it doesn’t mean he didn’t mean to hurt him,” I finally said. “And he did trash the place. Did the guy tell Ace what he was looking for?” The outline of the diamond was sticking out of my pocket, but no one would notice but me unless it was pointed out.
“No. Ace said it happened really fast.” Joel looked around. “Did a good job cleaning up.”
“Bitsy did most of it. I was out playing detective with Tim, but I’m not changing jobs anytime soon.” I told Joel about my afternoon. “I have to get over to see Ace,” I ended.
“They’re keeping an eye on him, and your brother was over there, too, asking him all about it.” Joel snickered. “Ace is loving the attention.”
“Wouldn’t have guessed,” I said.
“Why don’t you go over there now, before visiting hours are over?” Joel said.
I looked anxiously around the shop.
“Why don’t we just close up? Put the gate down.”
He had a point. The mall security folks knew what had gone down here. I couldn’t be held responsible for shutting down early, considering. On the whole, they didn’t like that, but these were extenuating circumstances. I nodded.
“Sure. Sounds like a plan.”
We went through the motions, locking the front doors, pulling the gate down, locking that, too. Passersby didn’t even seem to notice. It was almost suppertime anyway.
Which reminded me…
“I have to make reservations for eight across the way,” I said, indicating Wolfgang Puck’s restaurant. It wasn’t nearly as fancy as Giverny, but I wasn’t in the mood for fancy.
Joel frowned, and I told him about my date with Simon Chase.
“You like this guy?” he asked.
That was a loaded question if I’d ever heard one. “He knows Matthew, the guy who broke into the shop,” I said.
“And you want to know if he knows anything about this,” Joel finished for me.
I nodded.
“So you’re going to wine and dine him? What else are you going to do?”
I slugged him on the shoulder and made a face at him. “What do you think?”
“I think you like this guy, even if he’s mixed up in all this.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Isn’t it always?” He put his arm around me. “Want me to sit at the next table and glare at him?”
“No. But I wouldn’t mind knowing you’re nearby somewhere.”
He thought a second, then said, “Okay, I’ll come at eight and hang out in the square, have some gelato or something. I’ll keep an eye on you. Make sure you sit outside.”
The restaurant had tables on the square.
“Sounds good, but you have to try to be discreet.” I was a little worried, because Joel wasn’t exactly the type to melt into the background.
“Don’t worry about me.”
We parted ways at my car, and I watched Joel’s frame make its way to his Prius. I looked for more notes on my windshield, but it was clear. Had that drawing been Matthew’s way of warning me he’d be coming around?
I pushed the thoughts out of my head and backed out of the space, following the exit signs.
As I turned the corner, my rearview mirror revealed that I wasn’t the only one following the signs.
A white Dodge Dakota was gaining ground on me.
Chapter 53
I couldn’t stop and get out to confront him. Not that I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t because of the way the parking garage was configured and the fact that there were two cars coming toward us going in the opposite direction and then it was too late. I’d started down the incline.
The Venetian’s garage had steep entrance and exit inclines-streets-of-San Francisco steep. The ceiling hung low, so it probably would take off the roof of a Hummer, but I was disappointed to see that the Dakota, while large, managed to be barely under the height requirement. I could hear a sort of scraping sound, and I hoped it scratched the crap out of the Dakota’s roof.
I was going too fast. He was right on my back, nudging me forward, and while I usually didn’t hit the accelerator going down, I tapped it and the Mustang lurched forward, tires screeching. I gripped the steering wheel, nudged the brake, and felt the slight impact of the truck on the back of the car as we skidded down the concrete path.
The turn came up fast, and I yanked the wheel around, smelled the rubber, saw the truck looming large in the mirror, sliding along the bumpers of three parked cars.
I didn’t stop at the stop sign, barely glancing to the left as I spun the car to the right, onto Koval Lane.
He didn’t stop, either.
He was gaining on me as I turned right, toward the Strip. This might be a mistake, since traffic was abysmal and pedestrians crowded the intersections, but it could slow him down, and if the traffic gods were with me, I’d sail through a light that would turn red, keeping him from pursuit.
The speedometer inched up higher than I was comfortable with, but I didn’t have a choice. While I’d toyed with the idea of just pulling over and confronting him in the nanosecond before we started down that incline, I wasn’t leaning in that direction now. I just wanted to get away, slow my heartbeat to normal, and then call Simon Chase to find out why, if he was meeting me in a few hours, he felt compelled to show up early and scare the bejesus out of me.
Oh, right. I had the diamond. But he didn’t exactly know that right now.
The light was red ahead of me, where I’d turn onto the Strip. A mass of tourists moved like a slow swarm of bees. The light turned green just as the last pedestrian moved out of my way, and I sped to the left, the Dakota hot on my butt.
This wasn’t the way it was supposed to work.
I squinted ahead and saw the next light was red. And stayed red, the closer I came. Lights on the Strip were longer than James Cameron’s Titanic.
A minivan slipped between me and the Dakota. I could see a slip of smoke coming out of the driver’s-side window of the truck. Simon Chase smoked? Oh, right. All those Europeans were like chimneys. Another thing I could bolster my resolve with when I met him tonight.
If he didn’t manage to get me beforehand.
If he’d wanted to meet earlier, I would’ve been open to that.
The light changed. Cars ahead of me began to crawl toward the next light, which was, remarkably, still green halfway there. I put a little more pressure on the accelerator, spun around the taxicab in front of me. The light blinked yellow, and I threw caution to the wind, weaving around a tour bus as if every nerve ending weren’t on fire, and got through just a second after the light turned red.
A glance in the rearview mirror showed the Dakota stuck behind that minivan.
I resisted the urge to pump my fist and instead took my sunglasses out of the glove box and slipped them on. I went past the Monte Carlo, New York New York, the MGM, and sat at the light at the Tropicana. Where was I going? Home? I was pointed
in that direction; I could use a nap.
But the truck was still behind me somewhere. He might figure I’d go home, and I didn’t want to go to a place where he’d find me alone.
My options were limited. I should’ve stayed at the shop with Joel.
A phone rang.
Simon Chase’s phone.
I took it out of my bag and hit the button to answer. “Hello?” I asked, this time not bothering to disguise my voice. He knew I had the phone. It might even be him.
“Brett?”
It was him.
“Yes?”
“Something’s come up. I can’t meet you this evening.” Something came up, all right. I just outran him. I smiled. “That’s too bad. I was looking forward to it.” Considering how fast my heart was pounding, it was amazing my voice didn’t vibrate.
“Me, too.”
“Listen,” I started.
“Yes?”
“Why did Matthew trash my shop, take my safe, beat up one of my tattooists?”
Silence.
I didn’t want to let him off the hook. “I saw you talking to him. At Versailles. And you and he and Elise were all at Viva Las Vegas last night. And why are you driving a Dodge Dakota, and why did you just chase me out of the parking garage?”
He was so quiet, I thought he’d ended the call. Just as I opened my mouth to ask if he was there, he spoke.
“What are you talking about? I’m not driving a Dodge Dakota. I’m in my office, at Versailles. I haven’t left all day.”
Chapter 54
I looked at the phone number on the BlackBerry. It was his office number.
If Simon Chase hadn’t been driving, who was?
“You were driving a Dakota last night,” I pointed out, uncertain where to take this, doubts about all my theories crowding my head.
I heard a short intake of breath, then, “We’ve got a couple here at the hotel for management to use, left over from when it was just a construction site. I took one last night because, to be honest, a place like that isn’t a place for a Mercedes.”
I could hardly blame him.
“Why the twenty questions, Brett?”
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