Death On the Flop (10 page)

“What happened next?” Frank finally prodded.

“So we checked in and rode the elevator up to the room. I went in to bathe and Ben left me a note that said he was going to check out where Stan had gone because he wanted to ‘research’ him to do better in the tournament.”

Frank shook his head. “What is your brother really up to?”

I shrugged. “I really think ‘researching’ Stan
was
what he was up to. Ben is obsessive. Anyway an hour later he still wasn’t back and so I dressed and went down the stairs because I got tired of waiting for the elevator.”

Frank shook his head with a small smile, and his glance drifted to my legs. “Twenty flights? You must be in good shape.”

I felt my cheeks warm. “Well, I didn’t quite make it all the way.” I hadn’t decided whether or not to tell him all about what happened next but his eye contact with my knees so flustered me that the story in the stairwell spilled out in a rush.

Frank glowered, his dark eyes darkened. “Did these men see you?”

“Um,” I began, really not wanting to go into the whole Felix episode. Somehow I didn’t think Frank would approve. “My back. My profile, maybe.”

“And what did they look like?”

I described both men as best I could. Of course, I’d seen Electric Blue Rambo a lot better than I had the short, fat whiner named Pete. I didn’t mention the cologne connection. Frank was all about facts and I doubted fragrance would qualify as a fact.

“Look, I don’t know if this is all connected, coincidence or you have a knack for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. And saying the wrong thing to the wrong person.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. Humph. I thought I’d done pretty well getting away from the bad guys, but all Frank could do was criticize. Maybe
Frank
was the wrong person. Double humph.

He continued, “But the bottom line is: You can’t go to police, some guys are on the up and up, some aren’t and you don’t know which is which. Some are linked to the mob and the Mexican mafia, but I also hear whispers that a couple are in Steely Stan’s pocket. I don’t know why he’d need them there unless he’s running some kind of poker scam. But that would be hard to do since he wins at casinos and tournaments outside Vegas. So that may be nothing but a rumor. Still, Stan’s up to something. And it’s not good, because all these rumors have some grain of truth. And that’s enough to steer clear of him.”

“What about our hotel security. I’ll just report the break in to them.”

Frank shook his head. “Half the security force are moonlighting cops or ex-cops who went to work the casino for bigger money.”

“What do you suggest I do then?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Great,” I said, jumping to my feet. “You’re full of advice on what
not
to do. You can’t tell me what
to
do while my brother is out there somewhere bleeding to death.”

“You don’t know if that was his blood or someone else’s,” Frank rose slowly to his feet. I was momentarily distracted by his feet, but fortunately my anger pulled my attention back to where it should be.

“That’s where police expertise comes in,” I retorted. “They could do blood tests and a real investigation.”

Frank was glowering deeper and shaking his head stronger now.

“You tell me not to trust anyone in Vegas, but you want me to trust you, some drunk I met at a bar who has a stupid cryptic card that means nothing. For all I know you’re an ex-cop who works for the Mexican mafia who will hold me hostage in this room while your compadres slice and dice my brother for fun.”

Jumping to my feet, I strode to the door, trying not to think about the flash of hurt in Frank’s eyes when I’d called him a drunk. I was so mad I was shaking. I was so mad I couldn’t see straight. I grabbed the doorknob. Frank was behind me and put his palm on the door to hold it closed. I was so mad I was actually stronger than he was. I yanked the door open and marched down the hall.

“Don’t do this, Belinda,” Frank called low and hard.

“Call me Bee.” I threw over my shoulder. “And watch me buzz away.”

As I stomped to the front desk, I forgot to worry about
Electric Blue Rambo jumping out at me from behind a potted palm. All I could think about was Frank trying to boss me around like Toby did, albeit in a different way. Toby was a smooth manipulator. From what I could tell of Frank he was his name—frank to the point of being blunt. One didn’t wonder what Frank wanted because he spelled it out. Toby was sneakier about getting what he wanted, but he still got it. Same difference. I’d let one too many men control me. No more. I was forty now and I was independent. I might die a spinster but at least I would go my own way doing my own thing.

I marched through the blue granite waves and polished sandstone that was the lobby floor of the Lanai. A marble dolphin leaping out of a wave almost caught my right thigh. I detoured and nearly ran over a killer whale. Was that onyx and quartz? Ack.

Thankfully, no one was in line. I approached the desk clerk who looked up, her eyes widening. I probably had smoke coming out my ears. “Yes, ma’am?” she asked cautiously.

“I have a problem and need you to call the police for me.”

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asked.

I felt like I was dealing with a diplomat from the United Nations. Sheesh. I remembered that Frank said the casinos liked to equalize trouble immediately. I remembered that the last casino had not even liked the way it looked when I was wandering around with luggage. Blood and break-ins would be much worse. I took a deep breath and tried not to scream. “I . . . Just . . . Told . . . You . . . How . . . You . . . Could . . . Help . . . Me. Call the police.”

“Oh yes, ma’am. You are in luck.”
I bet I was.
She tapped something into her computer. Probably a red alert message and the casino goons would be on me momentarily. She nodded and spoke with a careful tone reserved for those not mentally stable. “There is a detective with the sheriff ’s department here right now checking out security for the big pro-am poker tournament that starts tomorrow night. I’ll take you to him. Maybe he can help you.”

She poked her head in the open door behind her and another young clerk appeared, giving her colleague a sympathetic look as she took over the computer. The first clerk beckoned me to come around the front desk and follow her through a door she opened by punching a code into the keypad above the knob. She led me down a hallway and opened another door with the same code, 7826, which I memorized. Who would’ve guessed reading all those Nancy Drews when I was thirteen was coming in handy.

She opened the door and motioned me to go ahead of her into what looked like a conference room. Two men in suits stood with their backs to us, bent over what looked like schematic blueprints. “Excuse me, Detective Conner?” my escort said apologetically. “This guest was asking for the police.”

I walked past her as the taller man turned to look at us. His eyes were electric blue. I sucked in a breath and tasted Iceberg Effusion. Uh-oh. This changed everything. I tried to rewind the conversation I heard in the stairwell in my mind, playing the bad guy as a cop to see if I had misunderstood anything. Nope. Electric Blue Rambo was still the bad guy. Just so happened he was also a cop.

That meant Frank was right.

“Are you Detective Conner?” Maybe he wasn’t the cop after all. But he nodded.

“Daniel Conner, Clark County Sheriff’s Department.” He turned to the man next to him who was still bent over the papers on the table, more than happy to leave any police business to the police. “This is Wayne Cedillo, head of security here at the Lanai. What seems to be the problem?”

“I, uh . . .”

“Yes?” Conner cocked his head, drew his eyebrows together and looked at my earrings, my jacket, my boots. Gulp.

“. . . had my wallet stolen.” I finished weakly. I bet Nancy would’ve thought of something better than that.

“Really? Where did this happen? Perhaps in a room on the tenth floor?”

Conner remembered me. I had to get out of there as quickly as possible. “Well, you see I opened my purse . . .” I acted out what I was saying, unzipping the Coach on my arm and reaching in. Conner took a step toward me. I pulled out a tampon. He stopped with a grimace. I put it back and then sucked in a loud breath. Both men startled as I yanked out my wallet. “Will you look at that! It was here all the time. I can’t believe that! What a ninny I am. I swear, I have to clean out my purse more often so I can find things in here. I am so embarrassed. I am so, so sorry to have bothered you gentlemen.”

Cedillo shook his head in disgust and went back to the plans. Conner frowned, suspicion obvious. I had to find a way to confuse him so he wouldn’t think I was the one who’d heard him in the stairwell. Suddenly I remembered what my mother told me when I asked her where she hid our Christmas presents—always hide something in plain sight, because no one will look for it there.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything else you’d like to talk to me about?”

I cocked my head. “Yes, there is.”

Conner looked like a panther ready to pounce as I continued, “Your voice certainly sounds familiar. Have we met before?”

He blinked. I’d surprised him. Good. “Maybe,” he said. “I might have seen you and an older man going into your room earlier this morning.”

I forced a hearty laugh. “Oh yes, Uncle Felix is such a character. By the way, what was going on in the stairwell that you were so concerned about? Now that I know you are a policeman, the whole incident is much more exciting.”

That got him. He opened and shut his mouth soundlessly. Cedillo looked up, curious. Finally, Conner found his voice, “Police business. None of your concern.”

“Oh, I get it.” I winked and giggled like an airhead. “I’ll let you get back to work now.”

I wiggled my fingers and scooted out the door. Conner was looking more bemused than suspicious now. I’d hid my guilt in plain sight. I crossed my fingers behind my back as the desk clerk lead me back down the hallway. I hoped that would be enough to keep Conner off my trail.

 
Three cups of coffee hadn’t helped. Neither had the
supersized cinnamon roll with a gallon of glaze. I still couldn’t come up with anything better than “I’m sorry,” so I paid my tab and took the elevator to the twenty-fifth floor.

I paused in front of 2521. What if apologizing wasn’t enough? I would be alone with a missing brother, a bad cop, no plan and—the worst—no cell phone.

Holding my breath, I knocked. I waited. I knocked again. Finally I heard the lock tumble. The door opened and Frank stood there, holding a steaming mug and dressed in faded Levi’s and a white T-shirt. His feet were still bare. He wore the quintessential poker face as he opened the door wider and stepped back in an invitation to enter. “Look what buzzed in.”

I shuffled my way in as he closed the door behind me. “But what you didn’t tell me is what kind of ‘Bee’ you are. There are killer bees and bumble bees and honey bees. But I guess they all sting now and then, don’t they?”

I knew I deserved it. “I’m sorry.”

His dark eyes warmed. “Honey Bee, it is then.”

I flopped onto the loveseat. “You were right.”

“You were right too.” Frank said, walking across the room to look out the window. “I am an ex-cop and I am a drunk.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry I said that.”

Frank’s gaze met mine. His eyes were shadowed with sadness. “I’m not. I needed to hear it and I haven’t had anyone have the guts to tell me. And I promise you, I’m trying to stop.” He walked to sit opposite me. “Okay, why don’t you tell me what happened.”

I went through it all. Frank’s intensity built during the story. He leaned forward, with his forearms on his knees. I could see muscles bunching when he clasped his hands together as he listened. When I came to the end, he remained tense, but the corners of his mouth turned up. “That was pretty smart. I imagine he wouldn’t expect anyone to be quite that brave. I’m sure it didn’t eliminate you as his witness but it certainly threw enough uncertainty in to bump you off the top of the list.”

His smile faded and he pinned me with a hard look. “Look, I don’t like that you left out the part about the old man earlier. You’ve got to trust me. And it isn’t a good idea to go into a stranger’s hotel room, over the hill or not. There are a lot of freaks in Vegas.”

“That’s why I left that out earlier,” I said. “It wasn’t so much I didn’t trust you, I just didn’t think you’d approve.”

“Ah, I see, you operate on the approval motivation. I’ll remember that
Honey
Bee.”

“Very funny,” I muttered, squirming in the loveseat and looking again at those feet. Damn.

“Okay,” he said, giving me a strange look. “We need to make a plan. First, let’s go back to your room and take a look at things. Maybe you will notice something different. Maybe I’ll see something you didn’t. We need to hang a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign out so the maids don’t go in there. Then, we need to come back here and go to bed.”