Lounge Singers And Liars In Las Vegas

by A. R. Winters

  “And you’re the best person to take this case,” Roger went on, “because you found the body! It must be fate.”

  “I don’t believe in fate,” I told him.

  Next to me, Nanna was saying, “It’s destiny! You must clear his name! I knew this would happen!”

  “Besides,” I went on, taking a few steps away from Nanna, “that’s exactly why I shouldn’t take this case. I’m too close to it. I’m sure you’ll find another investigator willing to work for a kil—I mean, willing to take on this case.”

  “I didn’t do it!” Roger said again. “And I know you’re good, I’ve heard all about you. I’m a Vegas local, you know. Just like you.”

  “Umm.”

  I didn’t quite know what to say to that, but I did know that I wanted to get off the phone. I needed to stop the conversation before Roger became too hopeful, and I wanted to stop having Nanna glued to my side.

  Next to me, Nanna said loudly, “Tell him he’s as talented as ever!”

  “Who’s that?” Roger said.

  “That’s my Nanna. I’m actually at a family lunch, and I gotta go. We can talk later. Or never,” I added quickly, “assuming you find another investigator to take your case.”

  “We’ll talk later,” Roger said firmly. “I didn’t do it, and I need you to take this case.”

  As soon as I hung up, Nanna grabbed my shoulders and looked me in the eye.

  “He didn’t do it,” she said, echoing Roger’s words, “And I need you to take this case.”

  “Did you actually hear Roger’s side of the conversation?” I asked, wondering how that was even possible. “Has your hearing gotten better with age?”

  “I wish!” Nanna said. “But I didn’t need to hear what he said. I know he didn’t do it. The man is a saint.”

  I took a bite of the gooey, chocolatey hazelnut brownie Mom had made for dessert and stopped myself from moaning out loud.

  “You really have to take this case,” Nanna said for the umpteenth time. She took a tiny sip of her tea. “I can guarantee Roger didn’t kill anyone.”

  All through the rest of lunch right up ‘til now, Nanna had been going on and on about the fact that I needed to accept the case and save Roger from an otherwise uncertain fate.

  Wes was starting to look a little bit green. “Just because he has the voice of an angel?”

  Nanna gave his hand a reassuring pat. “Those were Tiff’s mom’s words, not mine,” she said.

  Mom and I exchanged a glance and I bit back a smile.

  Wes didn’t look particularly reassured and he sighed loudly. “I suppose that’s what I get for marrying such a free spirit,” he half-muttered to himself. But he glanced at Nanna proudly, admiration plain in his gaze because of how fiercely she stood up for something she believed in.

  Nonetheless, I couldn’t let Nanna’s loyalty push me into accepting this case.

  “I can’t do it,” I repeated once again. “The man was caught on video stuffing the body into the oven. I’ve never seen anyone looking so guilty! And I found the body, which means I’m already too close to the thing.”

  “Maybe that’s what’s making you biased against Roger,” Nanna said.

  “Maybe,” I agreed. “But either way, I’m too close to the whole thing.”

  “He’s a former pop star,” Nanna reminded me. “I’m sure he’s got piles of cash stashed away and he’ll pay you handsomely.”

  “A handsome payday would be nice. But that’s not worth working for a killer.”

  “And he’s got contacts!” Nanna said. “I’m sure he could you more clients.”

  I groaned. “His contacts won’t be any help to me if I can’t prove his innocence. And if he’s the killer, then…”

  “He’s not the killer! Would it hurt you to at least talk to the man?”

  “No,” I admitted, “But that would give him false hope, and I don’t want to give anyone false hope.”

  Everyone else in the room was watching my back-and-forth with Nanna. Even Ian was quiet for once, not seeming to have an opinion of his own, or at least not wanting to voice it. Ian was usually the first to agree with Nanna; if he wasn’t vocally siding with Nanna, that meant he had his own reservations about Roger.

  “Roger’s a grown man,” Nanna went on. “If talking to you gives him hope, he can deal with it.”

  I was about to say something, but Ian finally piped up.

  “Nanna,” he said gently. “I really do think this Roger guy might be a killer. I don’t think we should mess around with a killer.”

  “I agree with Ian,” I said quickly. “Nanna, I know you—I mean, Mom—used to be a huge fan of his, but I can’t work for him just because of that.”

  “Okay,” Nanna said suddenly.

  “Okay?”

  Nanna nodded her head sagely. “You don’t have to agree with work for him. Just talk to him. If you talk to him, you’ll see that he’s innocent.”

  I exchanged a despairing look with Ian.

  “You can agree to talk to him,” Nanna went on. “That doesn’t hurt, and you can always tell him ‘no’ in person.”

  I looked at Nanna, trying to decide what to say that would convince her to let it go.

  As though she’d read my mind, Nanna said, “There’s nothing you can say that’ll make me stop pestering you. I believe in Roger. If you were in my place, you’d do the same thing, and you know it.”

  I sighed and raised my hands in defeat. She was right. And her insistence may have been annoying, but I did admire that she stood up so persistently for what she believed in. Even if what she believed in was the innocence of a washed up old pop star who was clearly a killer.

  “Fine,” I said. “We’ll go talk to Roger.”

  Nanna let out a whoop of victory, and I quickly said, “But that doesn’t mean I think he’s any less guilty.”

  Chapter 5

  I woke up at nine o’clock the next day with my phone in my hand.

  I’d been desperately hoping to hear from Ryan. Even a short text letting me know he was alive and thinking of me would’ve been enough.

  Unfortunately, there were no texts or missed calls on my phone, so I lay in bed for a few minutes, staring at it, trying to will a text from Ryan into existence. When that didn’t work, I sat up in bed with a groan.

  I had a shift at work the previous night and had gotten home only a few hours ago. This was one of the rare nights when I’d crumpled into bed still wearing my makeup, and I desperately needed to shower and get a fresh start on the day.

  I’d barely managed to drag myself out of bed, when there was a pounding on my front door.

  “Tiffany,” I heard Ian’s voice, “I know you’re up! I heard you come in at two this morning and I know you don’t sleep more than six hours after a shift! It’s already been seven hours, which means—”

  I flung the door open before Ian could regale my neighbors with any more tales of my sleep and hygiene habits.

  “What?” I demanded grumpily, before I noticed that he was carrying his fluffy white cat, Snowflake, and Nanna was standing behind him. Yawning and stretching, I invited both humans and the cat inside.

  “Guess you slept an extra hour!” Ian said excitedly. “Good for you! I keep telling you how important sleep is. I know it’s hard after a long shift when you’re tired, but did you know that too little sleep makes you fat and increases your chance of getting diabetes and heart disease?”

  I bent down to give Snowflake some snuggles, which she seemed to begrudgingly accept. She purred softly for a moment and then finally wriggled out of my arms, leaped onto the floor, and hopped up on top of the fridge. She surveyed us all for a moment, before closing her eyes. She either fell asleep instantly or did a good job of imitating a sleeping cat.

  “Snowflake knows the importance of sleep,” Ian said proudly. “She always makes sure to get enough. I keep telling you—you need more sleep too.”

  I glared at him and rubbed my eyes, smearing my mas
cara onto the back of my hand. “I need coffee.”

  “You also need a shower,” Nanna pointed out helpfully. “You don’t smell so great. And you do know you shouldn’t sleep in your makeup?”

  “I know,” I groaned. “I never do, but I was too tired last night.”

  “I’ll make you some pancakes,” Nanna said, “while you go get showered and dressed.”

  I looked at her warily. “Are you trying to bribe me into taking this Roger Briars case? You know that won’t work. Besides, I don’t have pancake mix in the fridge.”

  “I’ve got eggs, flour, and milk in my fridge,” said Ian helpfully. “And I can whip some cream and use my packet of frozen berries to make a compote. We can have pancakes, whipped cream, and berry compote for breakfast.”

  My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten in hours, and that meal did sound delicious. “Fine,” I said. “As long as this isn’t some kind of bribe.”

  “I would never bribe you, dear,” said Nanna sweetly. “I’m just trying to feed my favorite grandchild—who’d never ever let her nanna down!”

  I gave her a narrow-eyed glance, marching off without a word to take a shower.

  I took my sweet time and enjoyed a long, hot shower that opened up my pores and relaxed my whole body. All the better to give the Dynamic Duo—as I’d decided to nickname them—time to prepare a pancake feast worthy of my hungry, grumbling belly.

  By the time I’d exited the shower wearing my favorite purple fluffy robe, with my hair bundled up high in a towel, I felt like a totally different person from the grumpy need-more-sleep woman who’d answered the door to find Ian and Nanna.

  The hot water had washed away most of my stress and worries, and the sight of gorgeous, fluffy pancakes and the whipped cream and berry compote washed away all the rest of my concerns.

  Together we set the table, laying out plates, cutlery, and mugs of steaming hot coffee for the three of us, and then we divided up the food and dug in.

  For a few minutes, the only noise in my tiny apartment was that of knives and forks cutting away, and mouths chomping.

  The pancakes were perfect: fluffy and light, and not too sweet. They were the most wonderful backdrop for the mounds of whipped cream and berry compote that I helped myself to. The berries were a mix of tangy and sweet, and the smooth, sweet whipped cream was the perfect complement.

  Finally, I took a break from eating and looked at Nanna.

  “I’m guessing you want to tell me something important,” I said.

  Nanna looked at me, satisfied with the effect all that food had on me. “Yes. Ian and I spent this morning looking into Roger Briars. You’ll want to hear this.”

  I groaned softly. ‘Want’ didn’t seem like the right word, but now that I had so much delicious food in my tummy, Nanna at least deserved my attention. “What is it?”

  “We did a bunch of research on Roger,” Ian said.

  “And now you’re on a first-name basis.”

  “We always were,” Ian said, ignoring my quip. “Roger’s had so much bad luck.”

  I raised one eyebrow at him. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

  “I can do that,” Nanna said, sliding her smartphone over to me. “That’s Roger, back when he was twenty-three.”

  I scrolled through the photos Nanna wanted me to see and raised my eyebrows. “He was certainly very handsome. In a clean-cut, tall and blond sort of way.” I scrolled through headshots, photos of Roger singing to packed audiences, photos of Roger signing autographs and grinning at the camera.

  Then I got to a series of photos of twenty-something Roger with a young woman. “Who’s this?”

  “That,” said Nanna smugly, “is Alicia Tumal.”

  I shook my head. “The name means nothing to me.”

  “Really?” She looked at me wide-eyed. “The actress? She starred in a whole series of hit movies!”

  I shook my head again, and Nanna let out a sigh of indignation. “Kids these days,” she muttered. “They really don’t know their classic movies.”

  “I’ve seen one of her movies,” Ian volunteered. “Back when I was dating this girl who was into older stuff. The Rich And The Dangerous. She was good!”

  “She was incredibly popular during her time,” Nanna said. “She was… well, think of Jennifer Aniston back when Jen was playing Rachel in Friends! She was so, so famous.”

  “Okay. But what does this have to do with Roger Briars?”

  “Roger and Alicia were engaged!” Nanna said triumphantly. “They were like the Brad and Jennifer of the day. Before Angelina swooped in, of course.”

  I leaned back in my chair and pushed a bit of berry compote through a swirl of whipped cream. “All right. But Brad and Jen broke up because of Angelina. And I’m pretty sure Roger isn’t married right now—so what happened to Alicia?”

  “That’s the thing!” Ian said, leaning forward excitedly. “Nobody knows!”

  I frowned.

  “Alicia went missing,” Nanna explained. “She and Roger were such an item—the really popular ‘it’ couple. Everyone loved them! The fans wanted more and more of them, they were really well-matched and both such huge stars on their own. Everyone was so excited about their wedding. It was going to be a big Hollywood affair. And then, Alicia went missing.”

  I shook my head. “This doesn’t sound good.”

  “No,” Nanna said seriously. “Of course it’s not good. It’s always terrible when there’s a tragedy, and well, Alicia went missing right out of the blue. How could a superstar like her just disappear from her home?”

  “But that’s exactly what happened,” Ian said. “She just went missing one day. And they never found her.”

  “You think she got tired of the fame and ran away to live a quieter life?” I asked, trying to be optimistic as I took another bite of pancake topped with berry compote and whipped cream.

  Nanna lifted her shoulders. “Who knows? Not me. And of course I hope she’s alive and well. But… most people don’t think so.”

  “They think she was killed!” Ian said excitedly. “They think someone must’ve broken into her house, killed her, and then hidden her body real well. The perfect murder.”

  “There’s no such thing as a perfect murder,” I said dismissively. “Surely if she was killed the killer would’ve been found by now?”

  “Maybe,” said Ian. “Maybe not.”

  “And things went downhill for Roger from there,” Nanna said.

  I turned my attention back to her. “How so?”

  “Poor Roger,” Nanna said sympathetically. “At first, everyone felt sorry for him. He became even more popular—you know, the man suffering from the tragic loss of his true love.”

  She paused and I had to prompt her to go on. “And then?”

  Nanna sighed. “And then, Roger moved on.”

  I raised one eyebrow. “You mean, he started dating someone else?”

  “A number of someone elses,” Nanna said, pressing her lips together primly. “One woman after another. You see, Roger had never been a monk!” She leaned forward eagerly, as though defending Roger’s behavior had become her calling in life.

  “He was such a handsome young man,” she said, sounding slightly on edge. “The women flocked to him! They just couldn’t keep away.”

  “Like you,” I said with a smile.

  Nanna sniffed. “Like your mother, you mean.”

  “Okay,” I said, lifting my hands, palms upward, in a peace offering. “Like Mom. So what happened after Alicia’s disappearance? Roger started going through the ladies like a Don Juan?”

  “He always went through the ladies like a Don Juan,” Ian said. “He just put that part of him on pause when he got engaged to Alicia.”

  I looked from Ian to Nanna thoughtfully. “This doesn’t sound good for Roger. He could’ve gotten rid of Alicia so he could get back to philandering.”

  Nanna snorted dismissively. “There are easier ways to get back to playing the field. H
e didn’t need to kill anyone.”

  So even Nanna, Roger’s biggest fan, thought that Alicia was dead.

  “But still… you said things went downhill for Roger once Alicia went missing.”

  Nanna nodded. “Yes, lots of people thought like you did. They blamed Roger for Alicia’s disappearance—or death—and they hated him for not turning into a hermit and mourning the rest of his life. But people move on. That’s what you do, no matter how much you love someone.”

  For a brief moment, the room was silent. I knew Nanna was thinking of Grandpa.

  “But most people mourn for a little while,” Ian protested.

  “Everyone mourns differently,” Nanna said. “And Roger was so handsome and famous. Women kept throwing themselves at him—maybe he was still mourning while he dated all those women. Who knows?”

  “But basically,” Ian said, “Roger became a has-been after Alicia’s disappearance. The fans turned on him for being seen with so many other ladies so quickly. His popularity tanked. Even people who thought he had nothing to do with Alicia’s disappearance starting thinking that it was unlucky to be associated with him, so he lost record deals, stopped producing music. His concerts stopped selling out.”

  “And lots of people really thought he killed Alicia?” I asked.

  Nanna nodded sadly. “There were all kinds of conspiracy theories. Far too many people really believed he’d killed her, even though there was no proof, ever.”

  “Including Alicia’s sister, Nadia Tumal,” said Ian. “She’s this activist type, and she organized all these rallies demanding justice and all that. She’s been doing interviews blaming Roger for Alicia’s death ever since then.”

  I took the last remaining bite of my pancake and berry compote. “So after that, Roger went from teen heartthrob to has-been?”

  Ian nodded emphatically while Nanna shook her head.

  “Exactly,” said Ian.

  At the same time, Nanna said, “Of course not!”

  I looked at Nanna.

  She said, “Soon after the disappearance, when it became clear that he couldn’t do the pop superstar thing anymore, Roger negotiated an open-ended deal with the Tremonte. He was going to perform there a few nights a week. I’m assuming the Tremonte paid well. And on top of that, he negotiated to stay in a fully-comped suite of luxury rooms there.”