Innocent in Las Vegas (10 page)

After I’d completed and submitted the application for a gun permit, Stone and I spent a couple of hours at the gun range, where I shot at targets and learned about grip, stance and aim. It was satisfying to fire at an enemy who was harmless, anonymous, and made of paper. I actually enjoyed myself and I wondered if I’d come back to the range again. If I was to become any good with a gun in real life, I’d need lots more practice, and it was starting to seem worthwhile.

The drive back home was uneventful and we stopped by the electronics store to return my old laptop and buy a new one. Stone walked me up to my condo.

We stopped outside my door as I fiddled about in my bag for the key.

Stone said, “I’ve shown you how to do the walk-through, so you do it this time.”

I nodded, and turned the key in the lock. I stood in the hallway and pushed the door open, like Stone had shown me. I knew that when I did this on my own, I’d be pretty terrified, but it was hard to feel more than a smidgen of fear when Stone was standing right beside me.

I had kept the light on when we’d left, and my condo seemed void of intruders, so I stepped inside carefully. The answering machine was blinking, but I ignored it – it was probably my mom or Nanna, asking about Stone. I couldn’t see anyone in the open-space living-dining-kitchen area, but there might just be someone hiding in the bedroom, so I called out, “Helloooo?”

I heard a noise behind me like a puppy sneezing, so I turned to look at Stone. His eyelids were half-closed and his eyebrows were raised a fraction of an inch – he had the look of a tough guy who wanted to puke because he’d just seen someone giving their lover a red rose.

“What’s wrong?” I hissed. “Too much dinner last night?”

“Why are you saying ‘hello’ to your intruder?”

I gave him an offended look. “I’m not saying hello. I’m warning them that I’m home. You know, in case they want to run away before I get to them or something.”

“They don’t want to run away, they’re waiting for you. And they already know you’re home! They heard you opening the door.”

That made sense. “Right.” No saying hello, then.

I lifted my left arm to my side like a ballerina and took a careful step towards my bedroom.

“Wait.”

The word sounded like a soft bark and I froze in place. “What’s wrong?”

“Why’re you holding your arm like that?”

“So I can turn quickly. You know, it’ll help me keep my balance and stuff.”

Stone didn’t say anything else, but my arm was starting to ache, so I dropped it and walked over to the bedroom door. I stood with my back against the wall, and peered around. There was no-one in the bedroom.

I let out a sigh of relief and stepped inside. Stone was right on my heels. I was about to head over to the window, which overlooks my tiny balcony, but Stone grabbed my arm.

“Check under the bed first. The order is, bed, closet, window, bathroom.”

I nodded, dropped into an inelegant crouch and peered under the bed. “No-one here,” I said softly.

“Didn’t think so,” Stone said. “You wouldn’t want to hang out there; it’s disgusting and full of junk.”

I frowned at him. “Underbed storage is efficient.”

“It’s disgusting, it’s dirty and it’s bad Feng Shui.”

My eyebrows headed up towards my hairline. “Feng Shui?”

Stone looked as impassive as ever. “Chinese decorating method.”

“I know what it is.” I’d heard about it on feminine interior decorating shows, and once on Oprah, as a method of cleansing your chakra. But those two words were the last thing I’d expected to come out of Stone’s mouth. “How do you know about it?”

“Learned when I was in Beijing on a stealth mission.”

Well, that made sense. I opened the closet door and peered inside. Nobody. I just couldn’t get over the fact that Stone knew what Feng Shui was. “And now you know all about Feng Shui.”

“Of course.”

I walked over to the window and pulled the drapes apart. There was nobody on the tiny balcony in front of the window. “And you think my place has bad Feng Shui.”

“In pretty much every way. You’ve got a mess under your bed, so your Feng Shui love area is all messed up. You’ve been single for a while.”

It was my turn to make an angry, wordless noise from deep inside my throat. I started to say something and then stopped. I didn’t even know where to begin. I wasn’t single because of bad Feng Shui, I was single because I hadn’t met anyone. The guys I liked didn’t like me enough, and the guys who liked me enough weren’t really my type.

But I didn’t know how to explain all that to Stone, not that it was any of his business anyway, so I satisfied myself by glaring at him sternly. It didn’t seem to make a difference though. My angry stare bounced off his calm, neutral expression, and I headed towards the bathroom. I opened the door and peered inside – no-one in there.

I sighed and looked back at Stone. “I guess you can go. And I can continue with my messy Feng Shui and messy life.”

A corner of his mouth twitched slightly. “I didn’t say I believed in the Feng Shui effect stuff.”

“Oh? So you think my love life might improve?”

“That’s up to you. But I still think your place is dirty and messy and you should clean it up.”

I narrowed my eyes and wondered if I had anything handy to throw at Stone. Unfortunately, he didn’t wait for me to find anything, and before I knew it, he’d turned around and left, pulling the door closed behind him. I satisfied myself with glaring at the door and imagining the sterile, unfriendly place Stone must call home.

Once Stone was gone, I checked through my place once more, and made sure that all the doors and windows were locked properly. After I’d ensured that my tiny condo was as fortress-like as possible, I played the two messages on my answering machine. They were both from my mom, wanting me to call her, so I sighed and dialed the number.

“Tiffany,” Mom said as soon as she realized it was me, “How are you?”

“Good,” I said, trying to keep the wariness out of my voice. My mother never called just to ask how I was.

“Have you seen Stone again?”

I knew where this was going, but I didn’t want to lie. So I said, “Yes, I have, and he’s just a friend, Mom. He’s not my type.”

“He seems to like you. You know, he came over to meet your parents and have dinner with them. For most men, that’s a big deal.”

“He doesn’t like me, Mom. He’s just a friend.”

“Then why did you bring him to dinner?”

“I can’t bring a friend over to dinner now?”

“I don’t remember the last time you brought a date. I guess most men don’t take you seriously enough to meet your parents. And we all liked Stone.”

I groaned. “Just because you like him doesn’t mean I have to.”

“Hmmph. Here, your father wants to talk to you.”

I heard my dad’s voice in the distance. “What? No, I don’t want to do this.”

My mother must not have learned the trick of covering the receiver, so I heard her hiss, “Talk to her. It’s your duty. Do you want her to end up unmarried and single when she’s fifty? Maybe she’ll get desperate and marry a no-good deadbeat like Mary’s daughter did, and then she’ll get divorced and we’ll have to sell our house to pay for her divorce settlement and help her raise her kids as a single mother. Do you want that now? Do you?”

I let my head sink into my hand as I waited for my dad to shuffle over to the phone. After a while I heard him say reluctantly, “Hi Sweetie, how are you?”

“I’m ok, Dad.”

“Er. Yes. Well.” There was an awkward silence and I knew my mom was standing there with her arms crossed, glaring at my dad. “Well,” he said again. “You know we all liked Stone. Pleasant young man. Very, um, interesting to talk to.”

“He’s just a friend, Dad.”

“You know, your mother’s worried that you’re not settling down.”

“I kn- ”

“I’m worried too.”

I imagined my mom must have prodded him into saying that, and I sighed. “I’m ok, Dad. You know lots of girls get married late these days. It’s ok. I’ll meet someone.”

“Er. Ok.”

I heard my mom in the background saying, “What’s she say?”

“She’ll meet someone later,” Dad told her. And then he spoke into the receiver again, “I have to go, Sweetie. Your mom wants to talk to you.”

The phone was passed back to my mom and she said, “What’s all this talk about meeting someone later? You’ve already met a perfectly nice man. Why can’t you just settle down with him? And why can’t you dress a little bit nicer when you’re around him? Would it hurt you to put on some lipstick sometimes?”

I made my hand into the shape of a gun, and pretended to shoot myself. If I protested, Mom would keep giving me advice. When I was younger, I’d tried to reason with her, but at some point I’d seen the light. She’ll let you go, I’d learned, if you just nod and agree. Just nod and agree.

So I said, “Sure, Mom, I’ll think about it. Hey, I have to go now, Stone’s calling my cellphone.” A little white lie never hurt anyone.

“Oh.” Mom sounded vaguely suspicious and a tiny bit hopeful, and after I quickly asked about Nanna – “She’s taking a nap. Out all hours of the night, no wonder she sleeps during the day. Turning into your regular old vampire...” – I hung up and went about getting ready to get to my ‘real’ job.

I arrived at the Treasury a few minutes early for my shift. I got tired of hearing “Tiffany! I thought you were sick!” and having to explain that it must have been a 24-hour bug. I could tell that nobody believed me, but nobody really seemed to care, either.

The night brought with it the usual parade of partiers and jackpot-seekers. Towards the end of my shift, I wondered if Beady Eyes’ boss would try to attack me in the casino, but when I looked up, seeing the glittering domes of the security cameras that littered the ceiling reassured me.

However, I wasn’t looking forward to walking back to my condo. I’ve always had to cut through a few patches of darkness on my way home, and today I regretted not driving in. Thankfully I was able to bum a lift off a gay co-worker and we chatted happily on the short ride back to my place. It was nice to spend some time with a man who didn’t answer in monosyllables, and when we got to my building, I invited him up for a drink. He said no, but since he was homosexual I didn’t have to feel offended. Maybe he just didn’t like my personality.

I tried to keep my spirits high as I headed upstairs, but my heart was thumping loudly and my knees felt wobbly. My door looked untouched and I opened it the way Stone had shown me. I held my breath and walked in slowly, ready to bolt at the slightest hint of an unfriendly presence. Nobody in the living room, nobody in the bedroom, nobody in the closet, nobody in the bathroom. Great. I started to breathe again and went back and locked the door, using the two new deadbolts Stone had installed.

I slept fitfully that night, waking at the slightest sound and then dozing off again. After a few hours, I gave up and decided to get to work.

Over a mug of steaming coffee, I replayed my interviews and made notes. So far, I still had to talk with Audrey and the ex-manager of the Riverbelle. I hadn’t interviewed Thelma yet, but that wasn’t something I was looking forward to or thought would be particularly fruitful.

Sophia had told me that Audrey’s firm was called Spencer, Tyler and Goldberg, so I looked them up online and found their phone number. The office was in downtown Vegas, but there was no list of employees, so for all I knew, Audrey had switched jobs and was somewhere else. Still, it was a start, so I grabbed my phone and dialed the digits.

A woman answered after two rings. “Spencer, Tyler and Goldberg.”

“Hi,” I said, feeling slightly unsure. “Could I please speak to Audrey Waldgraf?”

There was silence for a moment and then the woman said, “I’m sorry,
who
?”

Maybe the woman was a new employee. Maybe I had mumbled. “Audrey. Waldgraf? I was told she works here?”

There was another long silence. I thought maybe she’d wandered off, but then she said, “Please hold for a minute.”

Her tone was serious, and a Mozart concerto began to play. I waited for my call transfer to go through, counting the seconds and wondering if Audrey would agree to talk to me.

Five minutes later, the music stopped and I heard a man’s voice. “This is Eli Stark.”

I frowned. “Um, hello Mr. Stark. I was hoping to speak to Audrey Waldgraf?” I said her name clearly, hoping I’d be transferred correctly this time.

There was a brief silence and then the man said, “I’m sorry, who are you?”

The interrogation annoyed me. I said, “I’m an old friend of hers.”

There was another silence, and then he said, “Really. How old?”

This conversation was getting weird. Did they talk to everyone that way? I wondered how they ever got any business. And didn’t they know it was rude to ask a lady her age? “I’m twenty-eight.”

“No, I meant, when was the last time you spoke with Audrey?”

“Not for a while,” I said, “I was told she worked here so I was just hoping to speak to her for a minute.”