Richfield & Rivers Mystery Series 2 - Stellium in Scorpio (32 page)

"That
was close!" I panted as we ran to the car and made our escape.

Neither
of us spoke. I was in shock over what had just happened. As we sped away, I
dialed Wade and asked him to check with the diocese on a Father Ramon, a priest
who had just tried to kill us. After I hung up, I just sat and caught my breath
for a moment.

"We've
got to create a story that will turn them against each other and bring them all
to one place, so we can finally see who the hell is behind this," I said.

"There's
too many of them for that, but maybe you'll get the ringleader," Callie
said quietly.

Back
in the relative safety of our room, I uncovered Elmo's dog collar with the
hidden microphone still attached. "Here you go, buddy. You're all nice and
clean and I forgot to put your collar back on! There." I slipped his
collar over his head and gave him a pat. I glanced at Callie as if to say this
was the moment for setting the trap.

"Why
in hell did that priest try to kill us?" I asked.

"I
have no idea. Maybe he's the one hiding Mo. Priests have kept secrets for
centuries and have often hidden fugitives around the world."

"I
just can't believe it. You're psychic. How come you didn't know?" I asked.

"Mixed
signals, I guess. Randall telling me he was dead, then Karla saying he was
dead. She could be in on it, double-crossing her partners."

"Well,
if this note is for real, then Mo Black's not dead and he's been playing
everyone for a sucker for years. He's getting most of the cash and maybe
splitting it with someone who fronts for him, and he makes everyone else
believe he's dead. So someone in this group of players has betrayed all the
rest of them."

"Let
me see the letter." Callie leaned over my shoulder for timing purposes to
stare at nothing. "It could be a trap. I mean, maybe this letter was
written by hotel employees who are in on this thing, and we'd be walking into
an ambush if we head down that tunnel."

"Only
one way to find out. I'm guessing the tunnel is on the other side of the
cashiers' cage. We've got to get through there first. We need uniforms like the
employees."

Thirty
minutes later, with Elmo safely in his cage, we left the room and headed for
the hotel laundry where I told the supervisor I was picking up dry cleaning for
Brownlee. The laundry supervisor made a quick call while I held my breath, then
almost instantly he received permission to give us two white shirts, a vest,
and pants. As he disappeared back into the laundry to retrieve the items,
Callie told me not to worry about getting her a complete outfit because it
would look terrible and she wasn't wearing anyone's clothing.

"They
never get sweat out of clothes," she fretted. "It's sweat that grows
bacteria. You're just wearing someone else's disease. I would never wear it. If
you put a blue light on those pants, you would jump out a window before you'd
put them on," she continued.

"Thanks
for sharing," I whispered. "This whole deal is too easy. Way too
easy."

"Someone's
helping us get where they want us to go," Callie said in a chipper tone as
if we were about to attend a family reunion. "We just have to believe we
have higher protection than they do."

"Yeah,
well, you might want to give your highest contact up there a little heads up
that we're gonna need all they've got."

Back
in our room, I put the outfit on and asked Callie to cover her blond hair with
a hat. In any other location, a person might stand out in a hat, but Vegas was
full of people wearing odd gear. Before leaving, I tossed Elmo a large chew
bone and I gave Callie her final instructions, aware that people were probably
listening via Elmo's mike. "Okay, the secret to success is in boldly
acting and looking like we belong. Never slink or creep or slip around. Walk
like you own the place and that it's your God-given right to go back to the
cashiers' cage and open the door and walk through it. People are like animals;
they sense when you're feeling like you're doing something you shouldn't be
doing. Take big direct strides. Focus on the cashiers' cage door."

We
left Elmo and the microphone behind as we headed out the door.

"So
they should know exactly where we're headed now," Callie said, out of
earshot of the microphone.

"Right,"
I replied. "If they want to meet us, this will do it. I didn't bring my
gun. I was afraid it would set off metal detectors or something in the cash
room and everything would come to a halt. So we're unarmed."

"Well,
let's put it more positively," Callie said. "We don't have
conventional weapons."

Out
on the casino floor, Callie followed close behind me as if she were my invited
guest. I knew there were cameras trained on us, but I never looked up or made
any attempt to shield myself from them, because that too would have drawn
attention. I used the security clearance card on the electronic eye next to the
cashiers' cage door and it let us in without a hitch. We moved through the
cashiers' room, without looking or pausing, and exited through a smaller back
door, which opened onto a paved concrete tunnel that stretched out long and
dark before us. Hotel golf carts were parked to our right, and I jumped in.
Callie got in beside me. I cranked the key, aware that there was no turning
back now. I drove into the darkness, a slight glow from ground lights
illuminating the road. After more than a mile, the road turned right, then
left, and then rose steadily. I warned Callie to hang on to the overhead bar.
After a few minutes, we started up an incline that rose several hundred feet in
the air.

"Stop!"
Callie ordered. I stopped abruptly and set the brake. Ahead, in the wall of the
tunnel, was a polished metal door with an entrance key pad beside it.

"This
could be a service entrance; we're not at the end of the tunnel yet," I
warned.

"This
is where we're supposed to go," she said.

"How
do you know—" But my words were broken by the blue iridescent light I'd
seen on the theater wall that now hovered above the floor next to the door. I
didn't have time to ask Callie who or what the light was; in fact, I didn't
really want to know. If we were being followed by friendly spirits, fine. I
just hoped they were armed.

We
got out of the cart and walked up to the entrance, aware of the eerie echo our
feet made on the cold cement. No sound emanated from the other side of the
door. The flat electronic key pad turned out to be something more complex. In
the center was a tiny image of a bird with its clawed foot raised in the air.
From my pocket, I took the priest's ring, its gold surface as hard as painted
steel. Placing the bas-relief bird image against the wall plate's identical
reverse image, I put my index finger through the ring to use my hand as a
ratchet. The doors swooshed open rapidly, startling us. We forced ourselves to
step forward rather than back, and the doors swished shut behind us. We were
standing inside a small theater in the round, where perhaps a hundred people
could gather. It was awe-inspiring in its attention to detail, which was
visible even in the dim light, almost a replica of the large theater used in
the
Boy Review,
but this theater felt private, personal, and secretive—a
magician's room, where one could become intimate with trickery. In the center
was a forty-foot polished silver disk made up of circles within circles. It
appeared to be a brilliantly engineered stage upon which countless breathtaking
illusions had been performed. So dramatic was the stage's design that I nearly
missed the young woman standing in a corner, a rope around her neck, looking terrified
and exhausted—Rose exactly as Mo had depicted her. I made a move to free her as
a voice emerged from the eerie darkness.

"And
so it happens exactly as we planned." Karla stepped toward us out of the
darkness, surprising us. "I don't know what your game is, but Mo Black is
dead. I buried him myself," she said without a trace of her gun moll
facade.

"You've
lost your accent," I remarked.

"It's
a town of loss: lost innocence, lost virginity, lost lives. An accent is a
small thing to lose," she said, and despite fearing what was in store for
us, for a fleeting second, I pitied her because she saw the world in terms of
losses and not gains.

"Why
do you want us here?" Callie asked bravely.

"It
ties up loose ends." Karla smiled at Rose. "I have to get rid of
Sophia, who has a pathetic plan to avenge her grandfather's death and clean up
his hotel. We tried to warn her by threatening her little girlfriend, but then
Rose had already involved you, and unfortunately, the two of you don't know
when to mind your own business."

Suddenly
the door behind her opened and Giovanni came into the room. He looked sleepy
and drugged and not sure why he'd been summoned. He seemed confused when he saw
all of us standing there.

"How
did they get in here?" he asked.

"I
led them here! I even instructed the laundry to give them a uniform to wear so
they would think it was difficult and that they were clever. You're in my
world, not yours," Karla said. "We have to clean up our mess, Gio.
It's gone on long enough."

"Does
that mean killing your own grandchild, Karla?" I asked.

"Step-grandchild.
Hardly a relative at all," Karla said. "It's Loomis I hate to upset,
but we'll all mourn together and then perhaps name our new restaurant the
Sophia in her honor."

"So
you control the porn ring through the hotel, and Gio controls the ring of men
who finger the boys and get them to the rooms—"

"I
make certain that the money is there for the ghost," Giovanni interrupted,
blinking into the dim light.

"There
is no ghost in this instance, Giovanni," I corrected gently.

"The
Holy Ghost," he said. "I get money to the Holy Ghost, and I
atone."

"For
what do you atone, Giovanni?" Callie asked.

Giovanni
looked like a man who had left his body, his spirit in too much pain to stay
confined in the flesh. "I speak to God about many things, and I help God
build his church, and his school, and his hospital, and I pay for the children
to have a place to play, and God forgives me when I have to do certain
things." He looked at Rose, who trembled. Tears filled his eyes. "Mo
wanted to stop the ring." Giovanni broke down in tears. "But you
killed him," he said almost inaudibly.

All
heads turned to behold Karla, gun in hand, staring at Giovanni, her demeanor
cool as ice.

"You're
such a pussy," she said. "We've talked about that. You'd rather be
with boys than girls. Now for me, that's a little distasteful, because I was
supposed to be your girlfriend. My price for being your lover without the
loving is that the boy ring and the money from the ring continue. I don't care
how many perverts come here to do whatever they want to do, as long as no one
tells and everyone pays. Ahh, but someone told, didn't you, Rose? And now I
have to go behind everyone and clean up the mess, as usual."

Suddenly
the door on the opposite side of the small theater opened and standing before
us was Father Ramon, his pants and shirt recognizable but the rest of his garb
removed. His side was bleeding through the bandages where Callie had stabbed
him, and his broken fingers were swollen.

"Father,
why are you here? You must leave! What's happened to your hand? You're
injured!" Giovanni said. "Please, Father, leave here now."

"You
silly fool!" Karla laughed.

"I
absolve you of all your sins, dear Giovanni." Father Ramon made the sign
of the cross over Giovanni and then he put his hand to his priestly face and
pulled the skin away, stretching it from his head like the loose skin of a
chicken. The edges began to tear at his cheekbones and separate from his skull,
and the rubbery material fell to the floor. "Tah-dah!" he shrieked
with theatrical flourish.

I
drew back, shaken by the totality of the illusion. I had knelt before Father
Ramon and looked up into his dark brown eyes and had no idea I was staring at
Elliot Traugh. It was a chilling transformation. The
Boy Review
quick-change
master had played his greatest role. Giovanni looked like he might pass out,
and he doubled over racked in sobs.

"There,
there, poor Gio. The lover you spurned has had the last laugh. But you mustn't
blame yourself for being duped." Elliot spoke with mock sympathy. "I
studied to be a priest for several years. I just found the role too limiting.
But my knowledge of the character made it easy to convince the old priest before
he died that I'd been sent to train under him."

Karla
put her arm around Elliot, apparently proud of her dear friend.

"The
day you dashed out of Karla's house to get to your performance, you weren't
going to the theater, you were going to Mass where you perform as a
priest," I said. "So you, Karla, force your stepdaughter, Loomis, to
contact you when a client hits the casino floor, and Gio procures the young
boys for them. But Sophia found out about the boy porn ring from her mother and
some of her theater pals, and she encouraged Joanie Burr to go with her to the
police because younger and younger boys were being hurt. To keep Sophia in
line, and Joanie quiet, Rose was placed on the ghoul pool list and Joanie Burr
was killed," I said.