by Cindy Sample
Shouldn’t he?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I walked into Tom’s office to share the good news about my additional client work. He frowned when I told him I’d be tailing Gino a few more nights.
“Laurel, I think any surveillance requested by our clients should be done by Bradford or me.”
I folded my arms and frowned. “And why is that?”
“You don’t know anything about the subject of this investigation. As I said last night, it could be dangerous for you.”
“Is that because I’m a woman? Did you tell Ali Reynolds the same thing when you were partners?”
He splayed his hands out. “That’s different. Ali is a trained professional. You’re still learning the business. You don’t have any way to protect yourself if you’re assaulted.”
“Then I guess it’s time I learned some new skills.” I stood and left the office, too annoyed at my husband to continue the conversation. Just because I’d been bopped on the head a time or two, by a killer or two, didn’t mean I couldn’t handle tailing someone.
Yet I couldn’t completely disagree with him. It wouldn’t hurt to carry some protection with me. A gun was out of the question. I was more likely to maim myself than an antagonist. And my peppermint Binaca spray probably wouldn’t stop an attacker, although they’d have pleasant breath while they bopped me.
Then I remembered that Robin, one of my former bank co-workers, sold Damsel in Defense products. She’d asked me several times if I would host a party for her at my house, but establishing the new agency had taken precedence over any social events.
I called Robin and she offered to bring her products to my house that evening. I instantly agreed. If I could demonstrate this damsel was prepared to defend herself, my husband might not worry so much about my nighttime detecting.
Two hours later, I hosted a mini-soiree comprised of my mother, my daughter and me. The little kids begged to be included, stating they didn’t want to be victims either, so I let them listen to Robin’s spiel. It turned out that her company not only sold defensive items, but they did presentations at local schools to keep students informed about their personal safety.
After Robin spoke with Ben and Kristy, I sent them off to play while the adults checked out her array of stun guns, pepper spray, portable alarms, fake hairspray containers that stored valuables, as well as purses to hold all of the assorted equipment.
“I certainly could have used some of these items in the past.” I flipped through her catalog wondering if my new official detective status warranted purchasing every single product the company offered.
“Keep in mind when you travel that many states don’t allow stun guns or pepper spray,” Robin informed us. “But they’re legal in California.”
“You could get me some pepper spray for a graduation present,” Jenna said to me. “It would probably be a good thing to have when I’m walking through the UCD campus at night.”
“I’ve worried through my entire thirty-year career about holding open houses in the middle of nowhere and the potential for assault,” Mother added. “You definitely found a new client with me.”
“Should we get something for Gran?” Jenna asked. “For protection when she’s out by herself.”
Mother and I exchanged glances. My grandmother would likely stun herself or a friend. And even though the stun guns didn’t have the power of a Taser, the shock wouldn’t be too heart healthy for her elderly cronies.
Tom joined our group and smiled approvingly at our purchases, although he insisted on warning us, “Just because you’re ‘armed’ doesn’t mean you should do anything crazy. Or try to be a hero. These items are to be used strictly for defensive purposes and only when absolutely needed.”
We held up our hands and promised.
Then I kidded Tom, “I promise I’ll never use my stun gun on you, no matter how much you annoy me.”
He whispered in my ear. “You manage to stun me every day of the week, sweetheart.”
Aww.
The next morning I was back in the office reviewing Iris’s documents, not the most inspiring of investigative duties, but it needed to be done. Especially the fine print, which meant basically all of the five-inch stack of documents. Even with my mortgage underwriting background, the verbiage made my head spin.
If someone with my expertise struggled to wade through everything, I could imagine how overwhelmed Iris was. She merely signed the agreements, innocently believing what her telephone contact had promised her.
After Googling numerous timeshare resale companies online, all of whose names sounded similar, and all of which offered the same reassurances, I discovered scams were the real name of the timeshare game.
I found it interesting that within seconds of me beginning my Google search, my inbox filled up with timeshare solicitation emails. Timeshare resale ads popped up with every query I made, even the online searches not related to my timeshare research.
I began listing all the different companies. Halfway through, I realized Iris had made a big mistake, although an understandable one, since I might not have noticed it without compiling my lengthy list. The name of the company Iris dealt with was Timeshare-Helper located in Florida, where a majority of these firms were located. Her sales contact there was Greg Martin.
Not Timeshare Help and not Gregg Morton.
I sat back in my chair, aghast at the complexity of the timeshare market. Most timeshare owners were contacted by telemarketers, or if the timeshare owner used the internet, via the annoying pop-ups that continued to assault my own screen. All a person needed to do was complete a few simple questions, hit the send button, and a “customer service” representative would give you a phone call.
Easy peasy, right?
How many other people, many of them seniors, were in the same position as Iris? People who now found it difficult to travel? Or whose financial situation had deteriorated, making the annual fees and/or finance charges no longer affordable.
A situation that proved ripe for scam artists who focused on the uninformed.
My cell rang, indicating my paying client was on the line.
“Morning, Adriana,” I chirped. Now that I was armed with my defensive equipment, I was ready for another round of “tail your suspect.”
“I hope you’re ready to earn your retainer. I don’t want to hear any more lame excuses like a bear in your car. Honestly, Laurel.”
I began to protest but decided it would be a waste of time. I grabbed a pad and pen and waited for her instructions.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked.
“Gino told me he’ll be meeting a client Friday night in Tahoe. A big client with mega bucks to invest.”
“And you don’t believe him?”
She sighed. “I feel awful about not trusting him. And landing a wealthy new client would be wonderful for his business. I told Gino I’d love to join him on Saturday when his meetings ended. We could spend the weekend together. A mini-vacation for both of us.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“It does, doesn’t it? But he declined. Said he had far too much work to do and couldn’t take the time.”
“Do you know where he’s staying?”
“He always stays at Harveys. I guess they comp him a room when he needs one.”
“Okay, it should be easy enough for me to get a room there since it’s still early in the season. I assume you want me to watch his every move.”
“Yes. You’ll make sure he doesn’t catch you, right? If Gino ever discovered what I’m doing…”
“He won’t notice me. And I’ll bring along an additional team member to help out with surveillance.”
We hung up and I debated whose assistance I could procure. Tom and Bradford were scheduled to be in San Francisco on Friday for their insurance case. Stan would, of course, love to join me, but Gino would be able to recognize him from the other night.
I needed someone who could blend into the casino surroundin
gs with ease. Someone Gino would never suspect was keeping an eye on him.
That left just one person perfect for the job.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I phoned my grandmother and she picked up at once.
“How would you like to help me with a new case and get some gambling in at the same time?” I asked her.
“Wait a sec. I better put in my hearing aid. It sounded like you wanted my assistance investigating.”
“Yep. Up in Tahoe. Most likely at Harveys, but we might have to move around a bit. We’ll be working as a team tailing someone.”
“Well, I’ll be gosh-darned. You won’t regret it, Laurel.”
On second thought, I probably would regret this decision, but I’d run out of assistants, so Hangtown’s version of Miss Marple was officially on the case.
Around ten that evening, Tom and I cuddled on the sofa, watching the late-night news. I confirmed he would be home late Friday evening. Leaving me free to spend an overnight in Tahoe with my gumshoe granny.
Tom seemed less than enthusiastic about my pending casework.
“Laurel, this case sounds like it may require someone with more experience than you have. I do not like the idea of getting your grandmother involved.”
“I’m not crazy about it either, but are you or Bradford available to help out?”
He shook his head.
“There’s no way I can follow Gino by myself. I need some help. He won’t even notice Gran in the sea of white-haired gamblers up there.”
“Your grandmother isn’t exactly the epitome of discretion, you know.”
“I think she might surprise you.” I snuggled closer to him.
“Hah. Your grandmother never ceases to surprise me. But that’s rarely a good thing.”
“We’ll be careful. We can hardly get into trouble surrounded by hundreds of tourists and gamblers on the casino floor. Their security force keeps tabs on everyone. We only need to discover if Gino is engaged in a fling with someone other than Adriana or truly meeting a business client like he told her.”
“You promise not to follow him into any more dive bars?” Tom demanded.
I nodded. One dive bar visit was sufficient for this detective. Hopefully on this trip, Gino would stick to more high-end haunts.
Tom sighed. “Maybe it’s time to teach you some defensive maneuvers.”
I sat up. “I’d love that. Do you want to try it here?”
He reached over and placed a silky kiss on my neck, followed by another, sending my tingle meter into high alert. “How about we work on those moves upstairs? On a softer surface.”
Who knew detective work could be so much fun?
Friday morning I informed the kids I would be gone overnight working on a case. I had worried the kids might be upset, but Jenna surprised me by saying, “Of course I don’t mind. You’re doing a job you love.” She threw me a broad grin. “And as soon as my ankle has healed, I’ll be able to help you. Now go get ’em, Mom.”
With my daughter’s endorsement under my belt, I went upstairs to pack for my short Tahoe stay. I rifled through my closet and ended up choosing a variety of outfits. They ranged from casual tourist to business woman to sexpot, although my preferred plan was to remain as inconspicuous as possible this time around. I could select some of Gran’s wigs to assist my disguise when I picked her up.
We couldn’t check into the hotel any earlier than three, but Adriana assured me Gino would arrive long after us since she’d arranged a late lunch date with him. She promised to text me when he left Placerville. She would also attempt to keep tabs on his whereabouts to help us out. “Although,” Adriana whined, “I don’t want to come across as needy.”
Adriana’s situation seemed kind of ridiculous to me. Why not just confront Gino? Then I reminded myself that I’d been caught completely off guard when I discovered Hank cheating on me with one of his clients. Maybe Adriana had the right idea after all. Get the true story before her relationship with Gino evolved any further.
I certainly couldn’t complain about today’s workload, since following Gino around Tahoe would help the agency’s bottom line.
And maybe I’d win a few bucks at the casino and help out my personal bottom line while I tailed him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Adriana had texted me as soon as Gino left Placerville, so by five o’clock, our detective duo was in place. I sat in one of the lobby chairs, thumbing through glossy brochures on the multitude of fun activities Tahoe offered visitors. Gran had positioned herself on a stool in front of a slot machine next to the casino entrance leading into the hotel lobby.
Gran was disappointed her role did not involve a disguise other than being herself—a white-haired, bifocal-wearing senior playing the slots. I wore a taupe top and slacks, guaranteed to blend into any crowd. I borrowed one of Gran’s neutral ash-blond pixie-cut wigs to complete my camouflage.
I kept my eyes peeled for Gino’s navy Mercedes. Our quarry finally arrived a little after six. Gino, dressed in business casual, looked as handsome and self-assured as ever. He handed his keys to the valet and strolled in, pulling a small navy suitcase behind him, a hefty black computer bag slung over his shoulder. Without a glance in my direction, he headed straight for the registration desk, checking in at a line reserved for Harveys’ priority guests.
With one of the brochures hiding my face, I peeked out to ensure that once Gino registered, he got on an elevator designated for hotel rooms only. When Gino eventually came back down, he would have to walk past me to get to wherever he was going. This time of day, a throng of hotel guests crowded the lobby, so I doubt if he even noticed me.
I texted Gran to see how she was faring. She sent me a thumbs-up emoji in reply. The slots must be paying off. I hope they stayed on the plus side or else Gran’s expense report for her gambling losses might exceed our surveillance fees.
We didn’t have long to wait. Gino entered the lobby thirty minutes later. His curly dark hair looked damp so he must have showered. He’d also donned a new cornflower blue shirt, an excellent color in my opinion, since it made him easier to follow. Did his shower activity indicate an upcoming romantic meeting, or merely a necessity after a long, hot drive up the hill?
I felt comfortable Gran and I could easily keep tabs on Gino’s whereabouts as long as he stayed in the area around the casinos. The one obstacle would be if he drove to his final destination. I’d parked my Subaru in the free self-park garage close to the exit. I figured by the time a valet brought Gino’s car around, I could have my SUV in position to follow him if necessary.
Gino glanced at his watch, an expensive one, I gathered, since it gleamed in the light emanating from the lobby’s chandeliers. Then he walked toward the revolving doors leading to the valet station. I groaned in anticipation of a mad run to the parking garage, but he stopped a few feet in front of the doors and remained inside. He rolled his shoulders, one of which must be tired from continually lugging his hefty computer case around.
This was definitely looking more and more like a business meeting. Adriana would be relieved if that proved to be the case. I continued to monitor Gino’s movements from behind my travel brochure. A young family with two toddlers in tow struggled to get all of their gear through the door closest to my location. I smiled, remembering the days when we traveled with the kids, lugging strollers, suitcases, and far more crap than we needed. I wanted to help them but didn’t want to draw attention to my location.
On the opposite side of the lobby, two men entered via the revolving doors. The bald, shorter and more squat of the two, the end of a cigar hanging from fleshy lips, scooted in Gino’s direction. His companion, who was almost a foot taller and quite a few years younger, followed behind.
Shorty (I had to distinguish them somehow) vigorously pumped Gino’s hand. The big guy maintained a respectful distance between the two men. He wore a beige linen sport coat, not your normal casual Tahoe attire, which made me wonder if he was some kind of bodyg
uard. His jacket could easily hide a shoulder holster.
Or had I watched too many crime shows?
They chatted briefly, then the man with the cigar thrust out his left arm toward the casino entrance. Good. They weren’t heading toward the valet.
I texted Gran to look out for the trio. She already knew what Gino looked like and his attire. I just prayed she wouldn’t do anything foolish.
Gran sent a quick text that she was right behind them. I followed a discreet twenty feet behind her, but after walking out of Harveys main entrance on Lake Tahoe Boulevard, I caught a DO NOT WALK sign at the intersection. My right foot tapped an anxious beat while the red light intoned the number of seconds before I could walk across the busy four-lane street without getting run over and enter Harrah’s casino on the opposite side.
As soon as the WALK button came on, I zipped across the street so fast my wig almost flew off. As I entered the lobby, I straightened my hairdo while I frantically searched for my grandmother. Harrah’s was even more crowded than Harveys, so I finally texted her for her whereabouts. I breathed a sigh of relief when she responded.
They’re eating in that fancy steak place. You can find me in front of the slots trying to earn back my losses.
Uh oh. I better hustle before Gran lost her retirement savings. It was a good thing she usually stuck to the penny or nickel slots.
It only took me a few minutes to locate the steak restaurant. It took me a few minutes longer to find my grandmother.
She noticed me first. “Laurel,” she said in a stage whisper, “over here.”
I spun around and finally spotted her. She sat so short she remained hidden behind the large machines. I could barely see her, which made her an excellent choice for a tailing detail.
“Great place to hide, Gran. But can you see the guys over the slots?” I asked.
“Yep. I got a straight shot through these two.” She beckoned me over, and I checked out the space between a couple of machines.