Lounge Singers And Liars In Las Vegas

by A. R. Winters

  “So they were never found,” I mused. I handed the photo back to him and watched as he put it away. “How did Nadia handle the news of your engagement?”

  Roger shook his head. “She didn’t tell Alicia we’d slept together. But she asked her sister if she was sure—if Alicia could handle a womanizer like me. Those were her exact words.”

  “And Alicia?”

  “I’m not sure. She must’ve laughed, I guess. She said yes, didn’t she?”

  I nodded. “I guess Nadia was trying to protect her sister. And she’s still trying to get justice for her.”

  “She won’t get it here,” said Roger. “I’m not going to jail. I’m just getting more and more popular.”

  “Nadia really hates you,” Ian said. “She even hates us for being associated with you.”

  Roger smiled at that. “She’s always been passionate.”

  “And now she’s channeling her passion into hating you.”

  The smile left Roger’s face and he sighed. “Yes. That’s true.”

  “Do you think she hates you enough,” I asked slowly, “to frame you for another murder?”

  Roger looked at me and gulped. “I never thought of her like that. As being so… scheming. But I suppose, yes. She does hate me. A lot. She could easily try to frame me.”

  “She’s dying,” I said softly. “She’s got a few months left.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Roger said quickly.

  I nodded. There didn’t seem to be much more to say.

  Nadia had nothing to lose. And with her history and her hatred of Roger, it seemed more and more likely she might have something to do with Harvey’s death.

  It was time to visit someone who might know more about Nadia.

  Chapter 24

  “You again!” said Elwood with a scowl. He peered at me, and when Ian and I got closer, he growled, “I don’t see any box. Where’re my cupcakes?”

  I smiled. “No cupcakes today, but I do have a gift. Some info on Harvey’s death.”

  “Really?” his eyes widened. “What?”

  Ian and I sat down, and I leaned forward. “Do you know about Pete? The homeless guy, found dead in his car?”

  “I heard about it,” said Elwood. “What’s that got to do with Harvey?”

  “Joan, the wife, says Pete was put into hospital by Gregory Tullius—for Harvey’s crimes.”

  I filled Elwood in on the story, and when I was done, he scowled and nodded. “Good thing you told me, but it doesn’t change much, does it? The guy’s dead. And that stuff about selling furs and being beaten up by Tullius, it’s all hearsay, isn’t it? Pete’s dead—no one can prove the fur-selling story. And Tullius is going to deny sending someone to hospital.”

  I leaned back in my chair and lifted one shoulder. “I thought I should tell you. You wouldn’t know otherwise.”

  Elwood bobbed his head up and down thoughtfully. “I’m glad we’re actually working together this time.”

  I smiled and nodded back. A few cupcakes went a long way, I thought to myself.

  “What do you know about Greg?” Ian asked. “I heard the guy’s not nice.”

  “No, he’s not,” Elwood said seriously. “I can believe that he got someone beaten up because he thought they were stealing for him. We’ve been watching his activities on and off for a while now, but we can’t prove anything.”

  “Maybe because he really is an honest businessman?” Ian suggested.

  “Maybe,” Elwood admitted. “Though more likely, he’s a reformed thug.” Elwood scowled again. “Guys like him, you can bet they’re mixed up in shady stuff, but you can’t prove anything.” He looked at me again. “We’ve got him on casino tape having drinks with Roger a couple of times.”

  “So they did know each other,” I mused, mostly to myself. “I should’ve asked Roger about him.”

  Elwood sighed and shook his head. “You think you’re investigating, but really, you’re just running ‘round in circles.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re getting closer to pinning your guy, Roger Briars.”

  “But he didn’t even know Harvey! All these other people did!”

  Elwood’s eyes glinted. “That’s what you think.”

  “You know otherwise?”

  Elwood hesitated, and then said, “We did some more digging. A few months before he died, we’ve got tapes of Harvey going to Roger’s show, then having dinner with Roger at a steak house. Lucky break on those steak house videos.”

  “You’ve told Roger?”

  “Of course. Talked to him yesterday before his show. The guy denies it, said he has dinners with fans now and then. Can’t remember Harvey.” Elwood snorted. “As if.”

  I bit my lip. This did not sound good for Roger.

  “What about Nadia Tumal?” I asked.

  Ian said, “She hates Roger. She could’ve framed him.”

  Elwood took a deep breath, and let it, looking disappointed. “Nadia is… under investigation,” he admitted. “Our records show she’s been living in Vegas for some time now. Presumably spying on Roger.”

  “Did she have any interactions with Harvey?”

  “We don’t have proof of it,” said Elwood. “We showed her photo to Joan, who says she hasn’t seen her around. She’s not in any video footage with Harvey.”

  “But you can’t prove that Nadia didn’t know Harvey!” My pulse quickened and I couldn’t help smiling. “Maybe she knew Harvey from before he moved to Vegas! Maybe she had a grudge against him and they got to know each other again—and then they had a fight and she killed him.”

  “Exactly.” Ian nodded. “And then somehow, she snuck the body into Roger’s room. And she knew he’d try to get rid of it and implicate himself. It’s brilliant!”

  “That’s a whole lot of maybes,” said Elwood. “On the other hand, we’ve got concrete evidence of your guy meeting Harvey, months prior. And video. Don’t forget the oven video.”

  I grimaced. “Yeah.” But I could hope. And the more I hoped, the more I felt convinced that Nadia had something to do with Harvey’s death.

  We chatted a bit more with Elwood. I promised him a fresh batch of cupcakes the next time I saw him, and then Ian and I headed out again.

  As we sat in my car and buckled up, Ian said, “Harvey went out and had dinner with Roger—where was Joan during this?”

  “Joan says they fell asleep early every day. Maybe it wasn’t every day.”

  “Or,” said Ian, “maybe some nights Joan would fall asleep early and Harvey would go out.”

  “He could be meeting all kinds of people, getting up to all kinds of stuff,” I said thoughtfully.

  “He could be having secret dates with Nadia Tumal,” Ian suggested.

  I turned the idea over in my mind. “Maybe. That would be a good situation. Maybe too perfect for us.”

  Ian groaned. “We’re doing a bunch of wishful thinking, aren’t we?”

  I nodded.

  “So where to now?” he asked. “Should we talk to Joan? Ask her if her husband was cheating on her?”

  “Might not be a good idea to ask her directly.” I thought about her insistence that her husband was a good man. “Maybe we should follow up on what happened to Pete first. Why did someone want him dead?”

  “Someone like Gregory?” Ian suggested.

  I nodded. “Someone like Gregory.”

  Chapter 25

  I called Gregory before we drove off. He was reluctant initially, but I promised him we’d be quick. Finally, he told me he could spare a few minutes, and gave me the address to a pawn shop just off-Strip.

  As Ian and I drove over, I felt a frisson of concern. Sometimes, I worry about the people we talk to: one of them could be a killer. What kind of person kills another person?

  But with Gregory, I had to wonder: what kind of person gets another person beaten up so badly that he’s hospitalized for it? He’d gotten angry when we’d accused him of hurting Pete, but he hadn�
�t denied it.

  The pawn shop was located in a strip mall that hosted a tattoo parlor, a bottle shop, and a payday lender. Inside was surprisingly clean and fresh-smelling, and the bright lights and cheerful artwork on the wall (which I assumed had been pawned) made the place seem fairly welcoming.

  Greg was behind the counter by himself, and he gave us a half-grimace, half-smile as we walked toward him.

  “Still bugging honest folks about a thief’s death?” he asked.

  I shrugged apologetically. “I’m sure he didn’t deserve to die.”

  “Maybe.”

  There were two chairs opposite the counter, and Ian and I sat down. Immediately, Ian got distracted by the jewelry displayed underneath the counter case.

  “Look at that ring! Is that a real diamond?”

  Greg nodded in the affirmative.

  “And that bracelet! Real diamonds too?”

  Greg peered over and shook his head. “Those are fakes. But they look like the real thing, don’t they? It’s a bargain, too, if you want to get it for a lady friend.”

  He winked at Ian and Ian shook his head.

  “Nah, I think Sally wouldn’t like to know I got it from a pawn shop. But look at this other ring! The diamond, wow—that’s got to be real, right?”

  Greg nodded his head. “Yep, that’s a whopper. Five point five carats and flawless. Trust me, any lady’s gonna be lucky to get that one.”

  I peered closer at the ring. I wouldn’t mind owning it myself. And then, I thought about the jewelry Alicia had been wearing in the photo Roger had shown us. Her engagement ring probably had a diamond worth at least a small fortune. Plus, there was the smaller diamond in the daisy-shaped gold pendant.

  Thinking about Roger, I said, “Greg, how come you didn’t tell us you knew Roger?”

  Greg looked at me and shrugged. “Didn’t really know him.”

  “But you’re on camera having drinks with him at the Tremonte a few days.”

  “Yeah, well. You run into people at bars, don’t you? I’d seen his show and I got him a drink once. Then I ran into him another day and we said hi. That’s about it.”

  “You weren’t friends then?”

  “Nah. I felt sorry for the guy. Everyone deserves a fresh start. That’s about it. If you ask me, though, he’s a stone-cold killer.”

  I hadn’t asked him, but I nodded anyway. I’d have to check the Tremonte tapes myself, to see if Greg seemed to be telling the truth. Of course the tapes wouldn’t have audio, but if the two seemed to be having a prolonged conversation, I’d know Greg wasn’t telling the truth. And, of course, I’d ask Roger what happened—if anything—between him and Greg.

  “I wonder why people sell their engagement rings in pawn shops,” Ian was wondering out loud. “Wouldn’t they get more money selling online?”

  Greg began explaining the rationale to Ian, and I continued thinking about Alicia’s jewelry. I knew that most diamonds were marked, which meant that it was hard to sell off stolen goods. Second-hand jewelers and pawn shops cooperated with the police when it came to things like stolen items.

  If Alicia’s jewelry had turned up, then it would’ve meant that Alicia was still alive. Or maybe that whoever had killed her had sold them off.

  But I hadn’t heard of her jewelry showing up, which meant that most likely, Alicia was no longer alive. And whoever had killed her didn’t do it for the money.

  My attention was dragged back to Greg as I heard him say to Ian, “Y’know, a pawn shop like this, it’s a great business. I own a few like this, all over the city. People come to gamble, and they pawn stuff to play more. I’ve turned completely honest these days. Nothing shady here. No stealing things and replacing them with fakes.” He scowled. “Not like Harvey.”

  “Or Pete?” I asked.

  Greg shook his head. “Honest misunderstanding. If I’d known the guy was homeless because of what Harvey said, I woulda tried to help him out some. Why don’t you tell him to get in touch with me? I’ll find him a job somewhere.”

  I stared at Greg a few seconds. “Pete’s dead.”

  Greg’s jaw dropped. “You’re not serious?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “When was this?”

  “Yesterday. They found him in his car, trapped. Car went up in flames.”

  Greg pressed his lips together and frowned. “It’s a bad business, this.”

  “You didn’t know about it?”

  “Me?” He raised his eyebrows and pointed to himself. “Heck no. Just found out from you, now.”

  Ian said, “You didn’t kill him yourself?”

  Greg looked at Ian, his eyes wide with surprise. “Why would I do that?”

  Ian shrugged. “I’m sure you’d have your reasons.”

  Greg laughed. “Can’t argue with that. But I’ll tell ya, kid, I don’t have anything to do with the shady stuff these days. I’m a family man. I got a kid I love, a wife who’s all right. I wouldn’t give them up, risk going to jail, over a thing like—anything, really. Wouldn’t risk my life for anything. I got a good thing going now.”

  I flashed back to Roger. Did he think he had a good thing going? Would he risk his life?

  Somehow, I trusted what Greg was saying. It made sense. “So you wouldn’t want to kill Pete?”

  “For what? Nothing. I tell ya, I got nothing but apologies for that guy. I was serious when I said I’d find him a job.”

  I let out a breath, slightly disappointed that Greg hadn’t seemed like an obvious killer. “All right. But if you had nothing to do with it, then who could’ve killed Pete?”

  Greg laughed again. He looked carefree, void of all worries. “How would I know? You want me to do your job for you now?”

  “That’d be great,” Ian said. “Because we’re not getting anywhere.”

  Greg laughed again. “Kid, you’re a hoot,” he said to Ian. “I’ll tell you this. If Harvey’d been alive, I’d have put money on Harvey killing Pete. But he’s not alive now, is he?”

  “Why would Harvey kill Pete?” I asked.

  Greg gave me a look like I was being slow on the uptake. “For stepping out with his best lady, of course. I’m not a jealous guy, but I can see how that’d work.”

  “Right.” I frowned slightly, thinking of the frumpy Joan. “I can’t imagine Pete—but then again, love is odd.” I shrugged. “Are you sure about this?”

  Greg shrugged. “Not sure about anything but death and taxes, and you can trust me, I’m gonna try to cheat death as long as I can.”

  “You saw them together?” I asked. “Outside of work, I mean. Somewhere romantic?”

  Greg tilted his head and half-closed his eyes. “I saw them together, but I can’t remember where. It was a vibe I got. I mean, if she’d been my lady, I’d have been angry. Maybe jealous.”

  “Angry and jealous enough to kill?” I frowned. I felt like we weren’t really getting anywhere with this line of reasoning.

  Harvey was dead, and Greg wasn’t entirely sure that Joan and Pete were having an affair. It was all conjecture.

  But it seemed like conjecture was all I had right then.

  “You asked me to do your job,” Greg said. “That’s my take on it. Can’t do anything more, can I?”

  I forced myself to smile. “No, I suppose not. We do appreciate your help. We’ll go see Joan now.”

  “Don’t forget to come by my place if you need any nice jewelry,” Greg said. “I’ll give you two a discount. So long as you promise not to bug me with any more questions.”

  I laughed awkwardly, and Ian frowned at Greg.

  “We can’t promise that,” Ian said. “We’ve got to keep asking questions ‘til we get good answers.”

  Greg shook his head. “I’ve got no good answers. And maybe no one does.”

  “Someone does,” Ian said emphatically. “We just need to find out who.”

  Chapter 26

  We had just started toward the dry cleaners when Ian got a text for Sally.
/>   “Let’s have some lunch,” he said. “I’m hungry again and I told Sally I’d eat with her.”

  So I changed course, driving over to a small bistro next to the spa where Sally worked.

  Ian and I had met Sally while working undercover at a ritzy spa. She’d since left the place and joined this smaller joint, close to the neighborhood of Henderson. Her new place was smaller but well-regarded, and as the receptionist, Sally had a reasonably stress-free job. No murderers lurking around in the shadows for her.

  The bistro we met at was a nice, airy restaurant, designed with a Scandinavian vibe. The furniture was all light-colored wood, the floor was blond hardwood, and the walls were bright white with botanical prints and real ferns adding some greenery.

  “Ooh, I love this place,” Sally told us as she dug into her chicken caesar salad. “I come here from work all the time!”

  Ian smiled and nodded as he ate his own salad—he’d claimed to not be very hungry, but I guessed he just didn’t want Sally thinking he was a pig—and watched Sally adoringly.

  I could see why. With her wide eyes and straight brown hair, Sally was as cute as a button, and I was glad that Ian had finally found someone who seemed sweet and down-to-earth. His last few “girlfriends” could hardly be called that. They had all been ruthless gold-diggers who went after Ian for his trust fund, dumping him the minute they found out they’d never be able to get their claws on it.

  “How’s your work going?” I asked Sally, between bites of my own beef sandwich. “Do you like it better than your previous place?”

  “Yes.” She bobbed her head up and down. “People are real nice, and it’s got a great vibe. How’re you guys doing with the PI stuff?”

  I glanced at Ian. I wasn’t sure how much he’d told her about our case, but he was busy chewing down his salad.

  “It’s not too bad,” I said. Since I wasn’t sure how much I should tell her about Roger’s case, I decided to tell her about Gladys, the old lady who kept running away from me, instead.

  “Oh no,” Sally commiserated once I’d told her the whole sorry story. “Maybe you should try her house again.”