Lucky Bastard (28 page)

Probably too tired to stand, Romeo remained seated when I stepped inside the small room and shut the door behind me. Institutional gray coated every surface. Every time I stepped into the room I felt perpetually adrift in an ominous, storm-tossed sea. Whether that was by design or just my overactive imagination, the effect was unsettling. Of course, the blinking red eye of the video camera mounted in the corner didn’t help.

Toby looked sheepish when his eyes caught mine. A red gash split his lower lip, which had swelled to twice its normal size. An ugly bruise colored his right cheek and a deepening circle of purple underscored his other eye. Myrna, on the other hand looked angry, and relieved…and not the least bit embarrassed—even in her spandex tube top, which she nervously tugged. But, the more she tugged at the top, the higher the bottom inched, threatening the lower threshold of decency.

Romeo kicked out the chair next to his. “Take a load off. Now that you’re here, maybe the Jacobses will be so kind as to enlighten me as to how we came to be introduced this evening?” He looked expectantly at his charges as I sunk into the chair next to him.

“What is all of this about?” I asked the two of them in my best schoolteacher voice.

A glance passed between Toby and Myrna, then Toby gave a slight nod and Myrna started in. “Well,” she said, her tone conspiratorial. “Everything was going to plan. I got all gussied up and went to the bar at Piero’s as planned. They have the most wonderful bar. And the food! It’s to die for. Anyway, I was sitting there and Toby—”

“I’m sure this is an interesting story, but could you fast-forward to the interesting part?”

She tugged at her skirt, another piece of spandex insufficient to cover the necessaries. “Well,” she harrumphed. “It all started with the necklace Toby gave me.”

I glanced at Romeo. He pulled the item in question out of his pocket and dribbled it on the table. “Is this the one?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s so pretty, don’t you think?”

Pretty if you like a huge diamond set in platinum, offset by an emerald of equal size, with the two stones then circled by smaller rubies. Distinctive. Pricey. Noticeable. The piece would be hard to miss, especially on Myrna’s neck, uncluttered as it was with clothing.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Romeo pressed.

“We were standing out front of the restaurant, negotiating a price when this couple attacked us!” Myrna talked with her hands, making grand gestures as her voice escalated with indignation. “They accused us of stealing! Stealing! Us? Please, we’re commodity traders from Chicago.”

I almost asked what the going price for meat on the hoof was, but Romeo’s daggered look shot me down. Instead I composed myself and asked, “If you didn’t steal it, where did you get it?”

“I bought it at that high-end jewelry store at the Edelweiss.” Toby sounded less than pleased, which was understandable, all things considered.

“A lot of people pay a lot more, get less, and end up in jail anyway,” I offered. “You’re not alone.”

“You’re not helping,” Romeo hissed.

Toby gave me the grin I was hoping for. So, I turned to Romeo and shot him a gloat. Leaning back, he shrugged and motioned for me to continue.

I leaned forward, my elbows on the table, arms crossed. “You bought it?”

“Of course. Those folks specialize in one-of-a-kind pieces, estate jewelry, pretty amazing stuff. I buy something there every year.” He sure looked like he was telling the truth. Personally, I didn’t know much about the jewelry store at the Edelweiss, but it was on my list of places to visit. As a boutique property catering to Eastern Europeans and Russians, the Edelweiss was a close competitor and it stood to reason they’d have something over the top.

I turned to Romeo. “I assume you questioned the couple who said the piece is theirs?”

“They even provided me with a video inventory they used for insurance purposes. The piece is there.” He poked the necklace with his finger. “If this isn’t the same one that was stolen outta your hotel, it’s a damn fine forgery.”

That stopped me. “Forgery? Hadn’t thought of that. Did you check with Security to see if a report of the theft had been filed?”

“They said they’d fax it to me.”

“Unique pieces stolen from the Babylon…” I turned to Romeo. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to check it out,” he said with a noncommittal shrug, but I could see Myrna and Toby’s story had piqued his interest.

“How’re you going to handle that? The store is probably closed at this hour.”

“True.” He leaned forward, a glint in his eye. “I have a plan, but I need your help.”

***

As I staggered through the Babylon, Jerry confirmed my fear—Frank DeLuca was not on the property. I’d missed my chance.

Finally, I made it back to my temporary home—the top floor of the Babylon. The hall was empty, the atmosphere funereal. Much like my life, it was devoid of light, laughter and fun—three of my staples that currently had gone wanting. The floor was private, with Mona, the Big Boss, and myself its only residents, so I saw little need to throw the deadbolt. The knob turned easily in my hand and I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. Propping myself against the wall, I reached down and gingerly pulled the shoe from my foot with the huge ankle, then kicked off the other shoe. With my feet released from their prison, I sighed in relief. High heels were invented to make women more appreciative of simple pleasures. And, although the theory worked, I’m not sure it had the far-reaching effects men hoped for.

The lights from the Strip painted the apartment in a multicolored glow sufficient for navigation so I left the interior lights off as I grabbed my shoes and made my way through the great room to my bedroom in the back.

And then I smelled it. Smoke. Cigarette smoke. What the hell?

“You keep long hours,” a voice in the dark growled. “Servicing the help now, are we?”

Dane! I whirled toward his voice as my heart leapt into my throat. The glow from the end of his cigarette brightened as he took another drag—I could hear the sizzle of the tobacco as the fire consumed it. An unreadable shadow backlit by the glow from the Strip, he eased forward from the deep embrace of a winged, high-back chair.

For a moment I froze. Should I be afraid? Defend myself? With what, my rapier wit? My gun? I had no idea where it was—stuffed in some box still waiting to be unpacked, I guessed, which didn’t help. Should I fling my shoes at him and make a break for it? Unable to process, my brain ground to a halt. “How the hell did you get in here?”

“Your door was unlocked.” He blew out the smoke in a perfect ring that glowed eerily in the half-light, which irritated me.

“And the elevator needed a special key.” That comment was rhetorical. Dane had worked in Security—even I could connect those dots. I stood in the middle of the room unsure where to turn or what to do next. “Would you turn on a light or something? It’s not like Metro is going to be looking in my windows.” Come to think of it, they might, but I didn’t say that part.

Dane flicked on a lamp.

I blinked against the light. Narrowing my eyes I tried to measure his mood as he mashed the butt into a blown glass bowl, a limited edition Chihuly, on the table next to his chair. He looked tired, worried, angry, but not homicidal, as far as I could tell. I took that as a good thing. His shirt and jeans, now well into their second day of wear, appeared as if they’d been pulled from the bottom of the dirty laundry pile. A two-day stubble darkened his cheeks. His hair, on the other hand, had come through unscathed, beckoning for fingers to be run through it.

Either I was too tired to care, or just mad as hell, but the normal tickle of temptation was a no-show. “You’ve got one hell of a nerve coming here.”

“I had nowhere else to go.” His voice was flat, tired but with an edge. Absentmindedly he patted his pockets, then quit.

“I’m touched.” Tossing my shoes under the side table, I staggered to the couch and curled myself into a corner, tucking my feet underneath me. Pulling the throw pillows around me, I created a pastel silk and foam fortification. Not much, but the illusion was all I needed. “You do know the police are beating every bush in this city looking for you?”

“They’d be incompetent if they weren’t.”

“Then I suggest you give them a shout. They get seriously irritated when you make them chase you.” Dropping this whole mess in Romeo’s lap would so simplify my life. But, if Dane was concerned about anything, it sure wasn’t my comfort level, so I didn’t see any upside to pointing it out. “It’d be easier for you in the long run.”

“It’s the short run I’m worried about.” Dane leaned forward. His elbows on his knees, he buried his face in his hands. “I’ve got to find Sylvie’s killer.” When he looked up, his face was pinched with anger, his eyes haunted by an emotion I couldn’t read. Regret? Sadness? Perhaps he really had loved her.

What would I do if someone killed one of my loved ones? “Why are you here, Dane? I mean, besides trying to add harboring a fugitive to my résumé?”

“I need your help.”

“You can’t be serious!” Fury arced through me—white hot, it sizzled and burned. I thought about jumping up and starting to pace, but I was too tired, and my ankle had started to throb. “You’re avoiding the police, stringing us all along, and you want my help.” I stared at him for a moment—the guy was a head case. “Logic is clearly not one of your strong suits.”

He leaned into the light. “You may be right, none of this makes sense.”

At least he got that part right.

“But one thing I’m sure of...” He paused, milking the moment, making sure he had my attention. “I’m in way over my head.”

“I fell for that game…once.” I reached for my phone. “I’m calling Romeo.”

“Wait.” For a moment, Dane tensed, pulling into himself—a caged animal coiled to leap. But he didn’t. He settled back, almost vibrating with the effort to still himself. “Hear me out, then call him if you want to.”

The clock on the wall ticked the passing of the seconds, perhaps stretching to a minute, as I contemplated my predicament. There was not one good reason why I should listen to him…again. Not one. So, of course, bitten by the curiosity bug, I sorted through possible justifications. God, I must have
stupid
written all over me. Perhaps I should consider changing my name to Patsy.

“Where’s Cole Weston?” I tossed the question out there, chumming the waters.

The question clearly caught him off guard. “The deaf kid? With Shooter, last I knew.”

“Yes, but where exactly?”

“His room on the fifteenth floor, west wing.” Understanding reached Dane’s eyes as they locked on mine. “They aren’t there?”

“No. And the police found blood in the hallway.”

He blinked a couple of times, absorbing the blow. “Fuck.” That hint of homicidal I had been looking for now hit his eyes.

“Any ideas?” I asked because sarcasm makes me feel good.

“The killer?”

“A shot in the dark, but that’s one explanation.” I pulled the pillows closer to me, finding comfort in the foam fortification. “How about this one? You and Shooter tried to take Cole with you. He resisted.”

“Why would we take him?”

“You tell me.”

“I really haven’t a clue. What part does he play in this whole thing? Sylvie never mentioned him, not that she threw much my way.” He clammed up, pressing his lips into a thin line as he looked over my shoulder.

“Who was Sylvie, really?” I had lotsa ideas, and a few suppositions, but I wanted to hear Dane’s story.

He leaned back, but kept his face in the light, where I could see it. His eyes flicked to mine. “My wife, but you know that.” He paused.

I waited, absolutely certain he was weighing exactly how much to tell me. “Dane, now is not the time to hedge your bet. It’s all in or I’m out.”

“She worked for the government. Undercover.” He took a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket on his shirt, shook on out, then rolled it between his fingers. A frown pulled his brows together and hardened his mouth. “She was in over her head. I was convinced the bad guys had made her, but she didn’t believe me. She thought it was one more ploy to get her to quit. The more I pushed, the madder she got. One night she split.”

“And she didn’t leave a forwarding address?”

Dane glared at me. Confirmation enough.

“And that pissed you off?”

“It was her choice, not mine.”

“Answer my question.”

A tic worked in his cheek as his eyes narrowed. He stuck the cigarette between his lips. He thumbed the lighter, then held the flame to the tip, inhaling deeply. Tilting his head back, he blew the smoke out through the side of his mouth. “Yeah, it pissed me off. But I loved her, why would I bury a shoe in her neck?”

“Because she split. Men like you don’t take no for an answer.”

“Men like me?” Dane’s voice held a knife-edge.

I was beyond caring. “Controlling. Arrogant. Chivalrous to cover a mile-wide chauvinistic streak.” Why hadn’t I seen what was so apparent now? I waited, watching his anger boil. “She didn’t call you from the poker game, did she?”

“No. I called her.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to get her out of there. Things were getting hot.”

“You’d tried that before.”

“Yeah, but this time she was scared, I could tell.” He glared at me. “I knew her pretty well.”

“From the video it looked like she was mad.”

“Mad as a cornered coyote.” Dane’s voice had gone quiet. “She said I’d blow her cover.”

“She got that part right.”

He flinched, which should’ve made me feel better, but didn’t.

“How’d you meet?” I modulated my voice, but I had to work to keep the mad out of it.

“Like I said, she worked for the government, more specifically the Department of Justice, chasing a money-laundering scheme involving American troops overseas. Our paths crossed.”

“The DOJ? Money laundering?”

“Black-market profits pushed though an offshore gaming site. The money went in as wagers, came out as winnings. Scrubbed clean. Untraceable.”