Green Eyes in Las Vegas (11 page)

He glanced over my shoulder, nodded at someone and said, “I should go say hi to my friend
, over there.”

I followed his glance and almost stopped breathing. His “friend” was Green Eyes.

Of course, I wasn’t completely sure he was the man I’d seen falling from the sky that day, but he was definitely the man I’d seen in The Tremonte that night. The man who’d disappeared into thin air. Our eyes had met and Green Eyes was smiling at me now, and I held his glance and smiled back. There was no way, no way on Earth that he’d disappear on me a third time.

“It was lovely meeting you,” Jeremy was saying, and I snapped back to reality.

“Yes, you too,” I heard myself saying automatically. “Is that your friend over there? He looks kind of familiar, I might’ve met him somewhere. Could you introduce me to him, please?”

Jeremy looked at me, trying to keep the exasperation out of his eyes. I was
that
person.  The leech. The one who meets you at a party and sticks to you like superglue, the one whose sole aim in life seems to be to prevent you from having a good time.

“Um…” He was clearly trying to think of an excuse to not introduce me.

“Please?” I said. “The only other person I know here is the guy I came with, and he’s gone off somewhere. I’d love to meet your friend!”

I didn’t care about dignity or pride or self-respect. All I cared about was sticking to Jeremy and meeting Green Eyes.

I could see the annoyance start to show through the edges of Jeremy’s carefully composed expression. But it was a hard request to turn down, and Green Eyes was already heading right for us.

“Sure,” he said.

I tried not to grin too broadly, and we took a few steps forward.

“Jack,” said Jeremy, “This is Tiffany Black. Tiffany, Jack
Weber.”

We smiled at each other. His eyes were green, flecked with tiny bits of gold, and his forehead was broad with strands of dark hair falling over the sides. I felt myself sta
rt to get lost in his eyes and quickly said, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You
, too,” he said.

I wondered if he meant it. But he looked genuinely interested in talking to me, and this time he hadn’t run off. I decided that I wasn’t going to make the same mistake I’d made when talking to Jeremy, and I jumped straight in. “Didn’t I see you at
The Tremonte the other night?”

The corners of his mouth went up a little. “It’s possible. I’m there quite often.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

He looked amused, and said, “I own half the place.”

“Oh.”

I felt like an idiot and was trying to think of something polite to say. It annoyed me that his mysterious disappearance, and the security guy’s refusal to talk about him, w
ere both explained away so easily.

Jack said, “Your name sounds familiar. Have we met before?”

I narrowed my eyes.
I
wanted to be the one asking if we’d met before.

“I remember!” Jack said, recognition dawning on his face. “You did some work for Sophia Becker, right?”

I tried not to look completely stunned. “How do you know Sophia?”

“I bought off her shares of
The Riverbelle.”

“That must’ve made
her sister-in-law mad.”

We smiled at each other, and Jeremy turned to me and said, “What work did you do for Sophia?”

I felt my mind go blank and I began mumbling, trying to think of something to say.

“She’s a private investigator,” Jack said to him. “And she’s really good.”

Jeremy glared at me. “So AAI sent you, huh?”

“Uh…”

“I don’t know how you live with yourself,” he hissed.

His hostility surprised me, but before I could say anything, he turned and huffed away.

Jack looked amused.

“What was that about?” I asked him.

He looked at me thoughtfully. “Lucky I remembered you’re a PI. So, you’re working for AAI, huh?”

“Um, not really.”

I glanced around the room, wondering where Stone was. There was a group of about half a dozen men huddled in one corner of the room, talking and laughing, and when one of them moved away, I noticed that the ex-mayor was a part of the group, and Stone was saying something that made him laugh uproariously.

Jack followed my glance and then turned his attention back to me. “So, what brings you here?”

I looked back at him. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He shrugged. “I gave the guy a donation once, so now I’m invited to these things. But how does a PI get an invitation to this, and more specifically, why?”

His eyes were smirking silently, a mixture of amusement and curiosity, and I tried to think of something to say that would change the topic. His name sounded vaguely familiar – Jack Weber. Where had I heard that before?

I remembered and looked at him in surprise. “You’re the co-producer of Casino Kings.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Your name was on the list Tony gave me,” I explained, but he just looked more puzzled. “I’m investigating Crystal Macombe’s death. She
had a role in Casino Kings.”

“Oh. I
think
Sam mentioned wanting to hire someone to replace Sally. But I didn’t know her name was Crystal, or that she died.”

“You’re not a very hands-on producer, are you?”

He grinned and shook his head.

“Then why bother?” I asked. “Doesn’t
The Tremonte keep you busy enough? And you own part of The Riverbelle, too.”

He smiled. “Casinos are boring. Business is all about money and profitability and looking at operations.” He shrugged. “I thought the movie world might be a bit more interesting.”

If I were a multi-million dollar businessman who owned large shares in large casinos, I’d probably be happy with my life and not complain about boredom. But then again, what do I know about being a casino owner? Maybe Jack’s life was one big sob story.

“And how’d that turn out?” I said. “You don’t even know what’s going on in your own movie.”

He smiled again. “Yes, but word gets around there’s a guy wanting to throw money at movies, all kinds of people start wanting to be your friend. Very
int-eresting
people.”

I tried to keep my face expressionless, but all I could think of was,
pig
. He was probably doing this to meet beautiful actresses. I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him standing arm in arm with Angelina Jolie, talking and laughing about something. A wave of jealousy hit me like a punch in the stomach. I couldn’t compete with Angelina. Not even if I gave up cupcakes forever and spent half my life at the gym.
Pig.

“Why are you frowning?” Jack said. “What pig?”

I snapped out of my reverie. “Huh?”

“You said ‘pig
.’ You weren’t calling me a pig, were you?”

I
looked at him blankly. “No, of course not.”

Jack
seemed amused. “You think I’m a pig because I’m financing movies to meet women?”

It sounded absurd when he said it out loud. “No, of course not,” I repeated. Jack continued to look amused, and I could feel myself blushing. “I, uh, was thinking of that charity where you buy pigs for poor people.”

“Which charity?”

“The Pig Foundation.”

“Right.”

Jack was smiling broadly, and looked like he was trying not to laugh. I quickly added, “I’m not sure if they exist anymore, but they used to do really good work.” I was babbling, and I needed to change the topic before I made a bigger fool of myself. I tried to push my brain to think faster. Bingo! “What do you think of the other people working on the movie?”

His smile disappeared immediately, and I patted myself of the back. Sure, my thoughts might inadvertently turn into speech sometimes, but I’m still able to change the topic in time.

“Do you think Crystal’s death might have something to do with the movie?” he asked, and I shook my head.

“I’m not sure yet, I’m looking into everything. Did you ever meet Crystal?”

“No. Financing movies is as boring as any other business. I just know the other producer Ben, and the director and screenwriter.”

“What d’you think of them?”

“Jack!” said a voice so loud and deep I was surprised it
hadn’t caused an earthquake. “We’ve been looking all over for you!”

The voice was behind me, so I turned around. It belonged to one of the Texans, and his two buddies were right beside him.

I turned to look back at Jack. His expression was one of studied politeness, and he said, “Good to see you, Bart. And you too, Mike; Eddie.”

The Texan trio began shaking hands with Jack, and saying something about the weather in Vegas and the last time they were down here…

I was about to ease my way out, when Jack fished out a business card and wrote down something on the back.

“That’s my private number on the back,” he said, handing me the card. “Give me a call and we’ll talk about the movie.”

The Texans glanced at me curiously, obviously wondering if I was a movie star or executive. I’m sure they decided on the latter, because their glances weren’t
that
curious.

“Jack,” one of them boomed, “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your beautiful friend?”

I smiled. Despite their booming voices and their outfits, these men still knew chivalry.

Introductions were made, and I excused myself, not seeing the point of hanging around any longer. My job at the party was done. Almost. All that was left for me to do was snag a couple of hors d’oeuvres, maybe chug a free drink, and then get home for a night in.

“Remember to call me,” Jack said, as I left. We smiled at each other and his eyes were so intense that I had to remind myself to breathe.

Of course I’d remember to call him.

After I’d guzzled down a glass of expensive white wine and devoured at least a dozen of those fancy mini-sandwiches and nibbles-on-a-stick, Stone and I headed home.

“That was a pretty good party,” I said.

Stone nodded, and I waited for him to say something. I’d seen him shaking hands and chatting with people, while I’d spent most of my time being the typical wallflower, albeit one who ate a lot.

He didn’t say anything, so I prompted, “Did you meet anyone interesting?”

“Did you?”

He focused his glance on me, and I knew he’d seen me chatting with Jack.

I shrugged. “Just work stuff.”

I didn’t feel like talking about Jack, and we drove the rest of the way in silence. There seemed to be something in the air, something bordering on awkwardness, and I didn’t feel like exploring what it was.

“I’ll walk you up,” Stone said, parking near my condo.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

He ignored me and we rode up in the elevator together, our usual comfortable silence not feeling quite right.

“I’m stopping by Glenn’s,” I told him. “He said he’d do some baking today.”

There was no response from Stone, but he followed me out and waited as I knocked on Glenn’s door.

Karma answered the door. She was wearing a bright orange turban, and a flowing, white maxi-dress that looked kind of like a nightgown. Her eyes were rimmed with dark kohl and her lips were smeared a reddish-maroon.

“Tiffany!” she said, clutching her chest. “My God, I’m so glad to see you. I thought you were in grave danger.”

She ushered us inside, and I saw Glen walking toward us.

I tried not to roll my eyes. “I’m fine,” I told her. “I just stopped by to say hi.”

Karma peered at Stone and looked at me again. “Maybe this young man is protecting you from the dangers? I sense you two have a close connection. Maybe romantic?”

Glen had reached us by now and he smiled. “Hello, Stone.” The two men shook hands. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too, sir,” Stone said.

“These days, you don’t meet very many young men as nice as this one,” Glenn told me, and I smiled stiffly.

Karma looked at me carefully, and reached out one hand. She placed the tips of her fingers on the side of my neck, and I tried not to flinch at her feather-light touch.

“Are you two together?” she asked me. “I can sense you have a strong bond.”

I did a mental eye-roll and looked at Stone. The corners of his lips had gone up and I knew that he too, was mentally shaking his head.

“We’re friends,” I told Karma. “We just met a few months ago.”

She removed her hand from my neck and waved it, like she was flicking away an imaginary mosquito.

“Time is unimportant,” she announced. “It is the connection of the soul that matters.”

I nodded slowly. “Ri-ight.”

“The spirits tell me there will be romance in your future,” Karma said. “But it will be complicated, and might not make you happy.”

“Oh.” My stomach felt funny and I frowned. I didn’t want to believe in Karma’s spirits, and I didn’t want to believe in a complicated romance. But maybe the feeling in my stomach was just telling me that I’d had too many fancy hors d’oeuvres. Those tidbits were probably meant to be eaten one at a time, not one handful
after another.

“The man will have green eyes,” Karma continued, and my eyes widened. “Do you know a man with green eyes?”

I shook my head furiously, unwilling to tell Karma about Jack, and gulped. Now I wanted to believe her spirits.

Glenn cleared his throat, and looked pointedly at Karma, who looked back at him and sighed.

“Tiffany,” Glenn said lightly, “Are you working on a case right now?”

“Yes. Why?”

He was holding a big plastic food container in his hands, and he looked at it and said, “I didn’t know you were out, so Karma and I stopped by your place earlier. I wanted to give you this box of cupcakes. They’re apple and cinnamon, with vanilla and cinnamon frosting.”

I grinned broadly and he gave me the box before I could snatch it out of his hands. “Thanks
.”

“Um
…” Glen glanced at Karma and then looked back at me. “Karma and I saw a man standing outside your door. He looked like he was trying to slip an envelope under your door.”

My smile disappeared, and I was conscious of the silence in the air. My hands felt clammy, and there seemed to be a chill somewhere. I felt Stone take a protective step closer to me.

“What did he look like?” I asked Glen.

Glen shook his head. “We don’t know. He was wearing a black ski mask.”

I felt dizzy. I breathed in deeply and closed my eyes. “What else?”

“Sorry?”

“What else was he wearing?”

I opened my eyes to see Glenn looking a bit puzzled. My question probably made no sense, but all I could think of was Green Eyes wearing the ski mask and suit.

“Jeans, I guess,” said Glenn. “Dirty-looking jeans and a grayish t-shirt.”

I exhaled. It couldn’t be Green Eyes – Jack – because I couldn’t imagine him not wearing a suit. Unless Jack wasn’t Green Eyes. But that couldn’t be.

“He had a dark soul,” Karma said. “I could sense his evil. He’s very angry at you.”

“You think?” The words came out unchecked, and I sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be sarcastic.”

“It’s ok,” Karma told me. “I understand your fear. But you must be careful.”

I looked back at Glenn. “Are you ok? He didn’t – threaten you or anything did he?”

Glenn smiled and shook his head. “We’re fine, thanks to Karma.” He exchanged a happy glance with her and said, “She started screaming at the guy, and then she grabbed the box from my hands and threw it at him. Almost hit him in the face. He ran away through the fire escape.”

“I’m glad you’re ok,” I said, and peeked under the lid of the box at the cupcakes.
They
weren’t ok – the icing was all smooshed and some of it was stuck to the sides of the box. I tried not to look disappointed. Glenn was ok, and that’s what mattered. Still, Karma didn’t have to go around throwing boxes of cupcakes at people.

“He’s not a good person,” Karma told me, and I bit back the response that came to my mind. “I hope he stays away from you.”

“Did you see his eyes?” I asked her, and she nodded.

“Yes, eyes, the windows to the soul. His soul was dark.”

I nodded impatiently. “Yes, yes, what
color
were they?”

Karma looked at me, surpr
ised, and I said slowly, “What. Color. Were. His eyes?”

“I told you,” she said, “They were dark. Like his soul.”

“So not green?”

“No. Dark brown.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“He ran off with the envelope,” Karma continued. “I hope it didn’t have an important message in it.”

“I’m sure it didn’t,” I told her. “And we should get going.”

“Yes,” Stone agreed, and we said our goodbyes and headed up to my apartment.

Stone made me wait outside for a few minutes while he checked through my apartment, and then he gave me the all-clear to come inside.

“That’s it,” he told me. “
I’m going everywhere with you from now on.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

But my words sounded hollow even to me, and Stone just shook his head and left.

Before I went to bed, I pulled Jack’s card out of my tiny purse and smiled to myself.

“Jack Weber,” it said, “Entrepreneur.”

Short and sweet. And then, like a sudden punch in the face, realization hit me. I knew where else I’d heard that name. He was one of the owners of the red Ferraris, the ones whose number plates matched up. Jack
Weber was Green Eyes. I couldn’t prove it, but I knew “in my soul,” as Karma would say, that he’d stolen the Van Gogh.

As I drifted off to sleep, I thought back to Jack. He was too successful to be a career criminal, and he was too charming for me to believe that he was a thief. But he was involved somehow
; I just couldn’t put my finger on it.