Innocent in Las Vegas: A Humorous Tiffany Black Mystery (Tiffany Black Mysteries Book 1)

by A. R. Winters

“I will.” I didn’t believe in gun violence and I wasn’t about to contribute to it.

  Stone stood up and looked at Sophia. “Good seeing you again.”

  Then he turned and left.

  I heard the door shut behind him and said, “He doesn’t talk much, does he?”

  Sophia shook her head. “He does have a soothing presence, though. I’m glad you’re staying on the case.”

  I wanted to tell her that I’d been calmed down by the hot chocolate’s presence, not Stone’s, but a few minutes after he left us, I was no longer so sure. I finished my hot chocolate and said goodbye to Sophia.

  As I drove away, I felt my uneasiness creeping back and wondered how long Beady Eyes’ and Mr. Beard’s injuries would keep them out of commission. For all I knew, they might be quick healers who would be feeling fine by the following day. And whoever they were working for probably had more beefy men at his disposal.

  I made a quick U-turn, drove into a side street and made a full circle around the block before heading back onto the expressway. Despite my fancy driving and the twists and turns I made, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being followed.

  Chapter Ten

  After all the troubles of the day, my night-shift at the casino went surprisingly well. It was just the kind of pleasantness I needed – by some miracle the tables I dealt at didn’t have any drunks, super-grouches or uber-unpleasant people.

  I went to bed feeling hopeful and woke up the next morning feeling just as optimistic. I called Vanessa Conigliani straight away and when she answered, I introduced myself as a detective investigating the Ethan Becker murder.

  “Would it be possible to meet up some time today to discuss the case?” I asked, and there was a slight pause.

  “Around what time?”

  “Whenever’s convenient for you, Mrs. Conigliani.”

  She sighed. “Oh, what the hell. Can you come over in two hours?”

  Two hours would be a bit of a rush. I hadn’t had breakfast yet and I’d been looking forward to a relaxing morning. But this woman was the last person on the list Sophia had given me and I really needed to talk to her. “Of course.” I said. “Will you be at the Summerlin house?”

  “Yes,” she said. I repeated the address Sophia had given me, just to verify that it was right.

  We hung up and I rushed to make my morning coffee and get dressed. I was sure Vanessa Conigliani would be a sweet woman, but just in case, I wore my heavy cocktail ring again and my second-favorite pair of stilettos.

  Mrs Conigliani’s house was a modest Californian bungalow on the other side of Vegas. It seemed warm and inviting on the outside, with a cute, desert-scaped garden; when I rang the bell, Vanessa answered within a few seconds.

  She was a slim, petite woman in her late fifties and I hoped I would look so fabulous when I reached her age. Her hair was blonde with a few subtle highlights, cut to just below chin-length, and she wore black capri pants and a white silk top.

  “This is a gorgeous place,” I said, looking around. The living area was open-space, done in sleek modern tones of white and silver, with low-lying cream leather couches and fancy abstract artwork on the walls.

  “Thanks,” she said, “I redid it recently. It used to be done up more retro.”

  I nodded. “Retro is in these days, but I love this airy feel.” The wide windows opened to the street and it was obvious she had magnificent taste. Unlike Sophia’s mansion, this place didn’t have that gaudy, opulent vibe, but it was clear that Vanessa had sourced the best things she could find.

  “You should do interior design for a living,” I said, and she laughed modestly.

  “Maybe someday,” she said, “If I keep feeling this bored.”

  I looked at her curiously. Sophia hadn’t told me much about the woman and internet searches hadn’t turned up anything either. “What do you do with your time?” I asked.

  Vanessa smiled and sat down, indicating that I should do the same. “I used to own a hairdressing salon. But I sold that two years ago and I’ve been trying to find something else to keep myself busy. Dealing with hairdressing clients got frustrating. I can’t imagine doing the same thing with interior design clients.”

  “Yes,” I mused, “I imagine they’d be picky.”

  She shook her head. “You have no idea. The women who hire designers are just so… I don’t know. Something. Demanding, unrefined, spoiled.”

  We smiled at each other with perfect understanding. I liked this woman.

  “So, Mrs. Conigliani– ”

  “Please, call me Vee, everyone does.”

  “Of course. Well, as I said, I’m here about Ethan Becker’s death. I think it would be easiest if we started with what you said to the police when they talked to you.”

  Her eyebrows went up a fraction of an inch. “I thought you were working for the police.”

  Right. I’d told her I was a detective, without mentioning that I was a private detective. Impersonating an officer was a federal offense, so I quickly said, “No, I’m a private investigator, looking into it.”

  “Who hired you?”

  “Sophia Becker.”

  “Oh. Well. I’ll try to help you, but to be honest, I think she did it. I’ve never really liked her and I think she must’ve gone nuts living with him.”

  “I understand he was quite the philanderer.”

  Vanessa smiled wryly. “Oh, that’s an understatement. I was such a fool to marry him. I got pregnant with Leo before I could do anything, and then I stuck it out for another ten years. I still can’t believe I stayed for so long.”

  “Was the divorce tough?”

  She shrugged. “All divorces are tough.”

  We sat silently for a while. “It must have been difficult, raising Leo by yourself.”

  “It wasn’t easy. I was lucky Ethan didn’t try to swindle me out of money. He paid my fair share in the settlement, and he paid alimony. He was a decent dad, I’ll admit. He didn’t try to worm out of responsibilities, so I think Leo dealt with it ok.”

  “I’ve met Leo. He seems like a nice kid, you must be very proud.”

  Vanessa smiled. “Yes, he’s sweet.”

  “I’m sorry to keep coming back to this, but Mr. Becker’s behavior? How long were you married before you discovered he was being unfaithful?”

  Her gaze drifted into the distance. “That was almost fifteen years ago… I really was in love with him, I didn’t care about his money or the casino or anything. Maybe that’s why it was so hard for me to believe he was cheating on me. But now I know he was probably only faithful for a few months. Just the first few months, until he got bored.”

  “Who would he… who did you think he was seeing?”

  She laughed drily. “Anyone who would sleep with him. He was the easiest man to seduce, he loved the low-hanging fruit and the women who wanted to please him. Didn’t care if it was a stripper or an attorney.”

  “Must’ve been tough.”

  Her eyes locked on mine. “It was.”

  A chill went down my spine. Despite Vanessa’s restraint, I knew she was unburdening her soul to me in her own understated way. I could imagine all the heartbreak she’d been through, and in the fickle crowd she mingled with, she’d obviously had no-one to share her woes with.

  I changed the topic quickly. Ethan Becker was dead but I couldn’t help dislike the man intensely.

  I said, “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “I’ll tell you what I told the police. I saw him a fortnight before his death; we were having a family dinner with Leo. We do that once in a while, maybe once a month, once every two months. I don’t know how his marriage was with Sophia. I didn’t ask him those things. We stuck to neutral topics, the weather, sports, and how Leo was doing.” She paused and thought back to what she’d told the police. “You’ll want to know where I was that night - I was home. I’d gone out for dinner at La Mamba and I left around eleven. I was home the rest of the time. Ethan and I were on rela
tively good terms, as good terms as you can be ten years after a divorce.”

  I nodded. “Do you have any idea who his latest affair might’ve been with?”

  She looked at me with an expression of mild surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “Sophia thinks he was seeing someone and it might have been serious.”

  “Did she have any particular suspicions?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t want to lead her on. “Not really. Do you have any idea?”

  A moment passed as Vanessa tried to think. Finally, she said, “When we were married he used to visit the Peacock Bar. It’s the strip club where he met Sophia. I’m sure he kept going – maybe a girl there?”

  I nodded. That made sense, but I was more inclined to think that he would sleep with a young auditor who he saw at his office every day. So I said, “How about anyone at his work?”

  Vanessa frowned. “I know Ethan liked his women, but I’d like to think he kept some things off limits.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about him, really, come to think of it. Even our marriage was a lie.”

  She sounded bitter and I hated to bring up the past. But I needed to get information and she obviously needed to get things off her chest. I might as well take advantage of that. “You mean the philandering.”

  “Yes, that. Even after all this time…” She bit her lip and then went on. “The man was an enigma to the public, but I thought he loved me. He shared things with me. We really connected on so many levels, but then he…”Her voice trailed off.

  “Did you try counseling?”

  She shook her head. “He didn’t believe in those things. These days you would call him a sex addict, but I think it was more than that. He needed adoration as much as he wanted sex.”

  “It must have been a tough choice to leave him.”

  She nodded. “I can imagine why Sophia would kill him. You can’t stay because he drives you nuts, and you can’t leave, because you’re giving up that whole lifestyle.”

  “But you left.”

  “It was a tough choice. All his friends shunned me and his family stopped talking to me. I had to start from scratch. There were times when I was bitter, but I moved to Summerlin, and made new friends. I guess it all worked out in the end. And I have Leo, too. I guess I should be thankful.”

  I understood the loneliness emanating from the woman. Giving up your whole social circle must be tough. But that was good for me because she was the first person, other than Leo, who was actually telling me things I needed to know.

  “So you think Sophia did it?” It was more of a statement than a question.

  “I guess. She gets his money and she doesn’t have to live with him? Sounds like a win-win to me.”

  “Except she didn’t win.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. The gun. But that was a fluke. I think without that she might’ve gotten away with it.”

  I bit my lip thoughtfully. “You don’t think she’d be sad to see him dead?”

  Vanessa laughed drily. “Does she look sad to you? I know, she hired you and all that, but the woman…” She shook her head. “I don’t want to bad-mouth your client, but you gotta admit she’s a stripper who married a rich man for his money. I don’t think for a minute that she loved him, or that she cares about his death. She’s probably happier now.”

  I frowned. I liked the fact that she was talking to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to agree with her. Something about Sophia made me think she was innocent. Or perhaps it was just my naïve hopefulness.

  “What about Thelma Durant?”

  Vanessa twisted her lips. “She was reasonably friendly when I was married to Ethan, but after the divorce either Ethan poisoned her against me, or she never really liked me to begin with.” Her voice trailed off, slightly sad. “Anyway, she seems nice enough. But who knows.”

  I nodded and stood up. I couldn’t think of anything else to ask her, so I handed her my card. “Please call me if you think of anything else.”

  “Of course.”

  She walked me to the door and I noticed her watching me curiously as I got into my car. I waved and drove away. Despite her willingness to talk, I hadn’t learned much from Vanessa, but at least she had given me the idea to go check out the Peacock Bar.

  Nothing had turned up so far, and maybe the strip club was worth a shot.

  Chapter Eleven

  I parked near the club and called Sophia. “I’m about to enter the Peacock Bar,” I said, “Do you know anyone I can talk to?”

  “I’ll call Dan and tell him to help you. He’s the DJ.”

  We hung up, and I walked slowly to the entrance. I hoped Dan would know something, because if he didn’t, I was at a dead end.

  The Peacock Bar was a little west of the Strip and had a large, street-facing façade. But the main entrance was in a side-alley: all the better for the patrons’ privacy. The darkness took a few seconds to get used to when I stepped inside, but the pulsing music and laid-back vibe made me feel welcome. There were a few lingerie-clad girls on stage, moving their bodies lazily and a few others were wandering around the men sitting alone at tables. This was a slow time for the club, but even at its busiest, it would never get as crazy as some of the really big Vegas clubs. The Peacock Bar prided itself on being more ‘classy,’ but that was really just a euphemism to say that they were more expensive and wanted richer patrons.

  I got a few curious glances from some of the girls as I headed over to the DJ booth. As I neared, the DJ looked up with a friendly smile. Dan was a big-boned guy with a crew-cut and he looked like a suburban dad who’d cheer for his kids at their soccer game.

  He took off his headphones and pressed a button to make the music keep going. “You must be Tiffany,” he said and I smiled.

  After polite introductions and small talk, I got down to brass tacks. “I heard Ethan Becker used to come here quite frequently.”

  Dan nodded. “The man would bring clients, business associates, investors – he thought the club brought him good luck.”

  “Any particular girl he liked to see?”

  Dan thought for a while and shook his head. “Hard for me to tell, I’m usually concentrating on the music.”

  I wondered how he could ever do that with all the eye candy wandering around half-naked.

  He caught the eye of a nearby girl and she wandered over with the grace of a dancer. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she really was a dancer – a lot of the Los Angeles starlets and dream-chasers became Vegas strippers when they needed extra cash.

  “Tiffany, this is Milli,” Dan said. I smiled at her.

  Milli was tall - even without her six-inch heels - with long, wavy brown hair and big doe eyes. She was curvaceous and poised, with a magnetic aura that made me think she’d do well on stage. I introduced myself and told her I was a private investigator looking into Ethan Becker’s death.

  “Do you think he might’ve been having an affair with anyone here?” I asked.

  Milli shook her head. “If he’d been seeing someone, he wouldn’t have come in so often. They’d just hang out somewhere else.”

  I nodded. “Did you know him?”

  “Yeah, I gave him a few private dances. The guy didn’t talk much, but he told me was married and had a special mistress.”

  “What does that mean, special mistress?”

  She shrugged. “He seemed to think she was a big deal. But it wasn’t anyone here.”

  “Did he talk about anything else? Work, any hobbies?”

  “He didn’t seem to have any hobbies apart from women. And he brought in people he worked with, but they never talked business.”

  “Right.” I tried not to look disappointed. “Well, thanks. You guys’ve been a big help.”

  We said our goodbyes and I left, my heart sinking with each step. Nothing was going how I’d expected – but what had I really expected? That Neil Durant or someone else would just confes
s to killing Ethan and then I’d be able to wrap up my case neatly?

  I headed over to a nearby café and sat in a quiet corner with my notebook. I replayed my conversations with everyone and began making notes, hoping that things would come together at some point. I jotted down who said what and made a few notes about Mr. Beard and Beady Eyes.

  When I’d finished, I knew no more than I had when I’d first started the investigation. It was late afternoon when I put my things away with a sigh and drove back home.

  I stepped out the elevator and walked right up to my door before I noticed that something was wrong. The door was open just a crack. I’d definitely locked up before I left this morning.

  My heart began thudding loudly and I pushed the door open. Standing out in the corridor, I called out. “Hellooo? Anyone there?”

  There was no response.

  A chill ran down my spine and I tried to take deep breaths and calm down. I needed to think logically, I needed to figure out what to do. Maybe I’d just left the door open by mistake. Or maybe there was someone inside, waiting for me to step in. My hands felt like ice and I could feel the blood freeze in my veins.

  I took one cautious step inside. Things seemed to be normal. And then I turned around. The wall above my couch was freshly graffitied with red paint, and it spelled out: Die, bitch.

  I screamed and ran out of my apartment.

  I ran all the way to the elevator, took it down to the lobby, stepped out and just stood there. I was too scared to step outside and I was terrified of going back to my apartment. I was doomed to spend the rest of my life in the lobby.

  And then I remembered Stone. I fished his card out of my purse and called him.

  He answered after the first ring. “Yo.”

  “This is Tiffany,” I said, “Could you come over to my place please?”

  There was a pause. “You ok?”

  “Yes, but my apartment isn’t.”

  He didn’t say anything to that, so I gave him my address and he hung up.

  I stood in the lobby for what seemed an hour. Just when I thought I’d start introducing myself to the other residents and opening the door for them, Stone walked in. He was wearing a white shirt and jeans again, but when he stepped closer I could tell that his clothes were crisp and nice-smelling and definitely not the same ones he’d worn yesterday. But they looked exactly the same and I wondered if he had a wardrobe stacked with the same shirts and jeans.