Innocent in Las Vegas (11 page)

“Oh.” There was another uncomfortable pause and then the man said, “I don’t know who you are but I can’t transfer you to Audrey.”

“I understand she must be busy at work now. Is there a better time I can call? Does she have a direct number?”

“Audrey Waldgraf hasn’t come into work for the past two months. She passed away.”

I felt like I’d been hit with a brick.

“Hello?” Eli said. “Are you there? Who is this?”

I came back to Earth. “I’m sorry. My name is Tiffany Black. I wasn’t aware…”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Tiffany. We all miss her.”

I racked my brain furiously. Audrey had died two months ago, just a month, or maybe even a few weeks, after Ethan had been killed. Surely it couldn’t be a coincidence. “How did this happen?”

“Her apartment was broken into and she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ve very sorry Ms. Black.”

I could see he was trying to wind down the conversation so I said quickly, “No, thank you for telling me. I should’ve found that out on my own.” I remembered reading about a burglary and murder in the paper a while ago, but it was a tiny news item that hadn’t gotten much coverage, and it hadn’t mentioned any names. “I’m not sure how I missed that, but…”

“Would you like me to give you her parents’ phone number? I’m sure I can find it here somewhere.”

I took a deep breath. “Actually, I’m sorry to have misled you. I’m a private investigator looking into Ethan Becker’s death and I thought Audrey would know something. I didn’t realize she’d been killed.”

“Oh.”

“Mr. Stark, would you mind if I came in later to ask you a few questions?”

“Uh – please, call me Eli. I’m still… surprised by this… I’m not sure I can help you.”

“I’m not sure either, but I’d like to talk to you and then maybe get Audrey’s parents’ number.”

I could just about see him shrug. “Alright then. I’m free at ten-thirty, can you drop by then?”

I thanked him and we hung up. I dug out my new laptop and searched for news of Audrey’s death. After a few unsuccessful attempts, I finally managed to find her obituary and the news item, and I pieced together the information. Audrey Waldgraf had lived in one of the older apartments east of the UNLV campus and two months ago her apartment had been broken into. The suspect had picked her lock, expecting the place to be empty, and police theorized that when he’d found her home, he’d panicked and shot her. Her place had been vandalized, and it had been unclear what was missing.

The whole thing gave me the creeps. I wasn’t sure I believed that it was a burglary or an accidental murder – sure, it could have been a coincidence, but something about the story rubbed me the wrong way.

I sighed. I’d wanted to avoid doing this, but there was no way I could put it off any more. I took a deep breath and called Emily Sinclair.

She picked up after a few rings, sounding relatively cheery despite the stress I knew she was under. “Hey Tiff, what’s up?”

“Um, not much. Are you free for drinks this evening?”

I heard the rustling of papers. “Sure. You doing ok?”

“Yeah, I’m great.”

I picked a bar near the Tremonte and we decided on the time we’d meet; then she said goodbye and hung up abruptly. I guessed she was busy and didn’t take any offence – I was used to her habits by now.

The drive into the downtown business district was a quick one and I managed to find parking only a few blocks from Eli’s office. The office itself was in a modern steel-and-glass building, the interior just as shiny and impressive as the outside. I waited for only a few minutes before Eli Stark came out.

He shook my hand firmly and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Tiffany.”

Eli was a tall, balding man with a mustache, glasses and a perpetually confused expression. He seemed to be constantly thinking of tax deductions and legislations, and as I followed him into his small office, I half-expected him to ask me what I thought of the latest tax breaks.

He offered me a choice between coffee and water, and when I refused both, he jumped straight into business. “What’s this about?”

I took a deep breath. “Audrey Waldgraf was investigating Riverbelle Casinos, right?”

Eli looked puzzled. “Yes.”

“There was a rumor she was sleeping with Ethan Becker.”

He leaned back in surprise and shook his head. “No, no. That’s not allowed, you can’t fraternize with the auditee. Sleeping with them is out of the question.”

I noticed Eli wasn’t wearing a wedding band and said, “But people do have feelings. She might have fallen in love.”

Eli frowned and rubbed his chin. “I can’t imagine that. I thought she’d be doing great things. She was a hard worker, intelligent, and she was promoted very quickly. I don’t think she’d jeopardize her career.”

“But people do fall in love.”

He stared at me as though he was just starting to recognize that love might be a valid reason. “I suppose so,” he said slowly, “But then she’d have to give up the project to someone else.”

“Was she working on it alone?”

“Yes, it was a straightforward audit, just checking the books and making sure it was all done according to standards. Audrey said she didn’t need any assistance.”

“Do you normally have one auditor per project?”

“Yes. Although Audrey could’ve asked for help if she thought she needed it.”

“Not if she was ambitious, I guess.”

“Well, the project was cancelled after Ethan’s death.”

I raised one eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Let me check the files.” I watched him slide his mouse around and click and scroll, and then he said, “Ah, yes. Here it is. Ethan Becker approached us for the audit. But after he died, the Riverbelle’s board voted to put the audit on hold. They thought it was unnecessary at that time, and we refunded them half the money and stopped the process.”

“So Audrey was put on a different case?”

“Yes, there was a large project requiring three auditors – a local supermarket with complicated discounts and markups – she was moved to that one.”

“Maybe she was going to declare her relationship with Ethan Becker and then the case was closed. So she didn’t need to tell anyone.”

Eli looked unhappy with my prognosis, but agreed reluctantly. “That could be true.”

We sat silently for a few minutes, and then I said, “Did Audrey talk about the Riverbelle Casino’s audit with anyone? Was there anything unusual about it?”

Eli shook his head. “She didn’t say anything when she was working on it, although those days she spent most of her time in the casino. Auditors tend to work on location and Audrey rarely came into the office. And then afterwards, she was working at the supermarket.”

“So she might have discovered something and not had a chance to tell anyone.”

Eli shrugged. “It’s possible. Anything is possible, I suppose.”

“What happened to her files?”

“For the Riverbelle project? There are backups in the office. I’d offer you a peek, but that would break client confidentiality codes and there’s nothing to see, really.”

I nodded and couldn’t think of anything else to ask, so Eli handed me a contact sheet with Audrey’s parents’ names, phone numbers and address. I thanked him for his time and help, and went back to my car.

I sat in my car for a couple of minutes, looking at the numbers Eli Stark had given me. I held my cell phone in one hand, trying to psych myself up to call Audrey’s parents. I needed to talk to someone else about her, about what might have gotten her killed. But I just couldn’t bring myself to call her parents.

I could imagine all too clearly the heartbreak they must be going through. I couldn’t call them up and poke at their wounds; I didn’t want to ask them whether their daughter had been having an affair with a married man. I’d been hired to do a job, but I couldn’t do that. I put the numbers and cell phone away and stared into space, imagining the person Audrey Waldgraf must have been.

Eli had said she was ambitious and hard-working. It sounded like she could be attracted to Ethan, but only if he’d agree to leave his wife for her. There was no proof she’d been with Ethan, but her death bothered me. I couldn’t believe it had been a burglary gone wrong. This seemed more like the kind of thing a jealous wife would do.

I drove home absent-mindedly and glanced at my watch just before I stepped into the elevator. It was almost lunch-time. I could kill some time by making lunch, doing my laundry and taking a shower. Then I’d review my notes and what I’d learned so far, and go to my appointment with Emily.

The fact that it was broad daylight was making me feel bolder than usual, but I still opened my door carefully, the way Stone had shown me. It swung forwards and I took a step in, into my living room.

Immediately, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. The living room was empty, but I could just feel someone else’s presence. They must be in the bedroom. The bedroom door was open, but the bedroom blinds were drawn and the room was in darkness. At this angle, I couldn’t see in and someone could be hiding there.

Or maybe it was all just my imagination. “Hel-lo-o,” I called out softly. Stone had said not to do that, but I just couldn’t help myself – maybe my hello-ing would draw out the intruder.

There was no response. I could hear no movement, no breathing. And yet, I was sure there was someone inside.

I glanced at the wall above my sofa, remembering the red paint that had been there just a day ago. If someone was in my place, they would be either in the bedroom or in the bathroom. They could be in the closet, but that seemed unlikely.

Little things jumped out at me. Had the curtains been rearranged? Maybe the cushions looked a bit off?

I glanced down at my coffee table and saw the ugly vase I had bought at a flea market, years ago. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but I picked it up and crept quietly towards the bedroom. I stood flat against the wall and peered around the door. And that’s when I saw him.

Standing in the far corner was a man in black, hiding in the shadows. His face was covered with a black ski mask and I couldn’t make out his eyes. He was holding a gun, his stance practiced and correct, and he saw me peering around the doorway.

I saw him pull the trigger, and dodged back as sound of the shot rang out. I ran toward the door, my pulse throbbing wildly, and heard the man coming after me. I turned and saw him poised threateningly in my bedroom doorway. His eyes were dark and calm. He raised his gun again to shoot at me. Instinctively, I threw my vase at him and he misfired and swore.

I wasn’t sure if the vase hit him or not, but I wasn’t waiting around to see. I ran out the door and down the hallway, bursting through the fire escape door and racing down the stairs.

I don’t think I’d ever moved so fast. My heart was pounding loudly, and the hairs on the back of my neck were still standing up. I raced down the first flight of stairs before I knew what I was doing, and then I dashed across the short landing and began to run down the next flight.

I heard the door to the stairwell bang open and a sudden rush of clarity flooded my body. I knew without turning back that the man in the mask was standing on the landing above, aiming his gun at me carefully. The stairwell was painted a brilliant white, and smelled vaguely of disinfect; the stairs were high and utilitarian. My mind was filled with a loud blankness and I took a few more stairs down, subconsciously readying myself to be shot.

There were six or seven more steps down to the landing, and at the last moment, I took a flying leap downwards. I landed on my feet, balancing in a half-crouch, and at the same moment I heard the shot ring out. The man had missed me because of my sudden leap, and I wasn’t waiting to see if his next shot would hit its target.

Through a haze of terror and a dull thudding in my ears, I saw the red fire escape door. There was a handle – shiny steel, begging to be grabbed. The world seemed to have slowed down, and seconds were now as long as minutes. I watched as my hands moved of their own accord, my fingers wrapping around the cold steel. I pulled back with all my strength. It opened, and I slipped around to the other side. My ears rung with the noise of another shot – this time he’d managed to hit the fire escape door.

I lurched into the hallway and the door thudded closed behind me. I thought I heard steps – but maybe it was just my imagination. Either way, the man knew where I was and all he had to do was race down the stairs and open the door to see me.

The hallway was long and narrow, and I would be an easy target for him. I couldn’t go back up the fire escape door, and other than the elevator, there was no way out of this floor.

I ran down the hallway, looking left and right for some place to hide, trying to figure out what to do next. There were no windows I could leap out of, no strategically placed alcoves I could hide in. I was almost at the end of the hallway when I saw an open door straight ahead. I barged in without thinking and slammed it behind me.

I found myself inside a condo, its door safely between me and the pursuer. An old man stood in the middle of the room, a bag of groceries under each arm, staring at me, agape. He was tall, with thick, straight white hair; he had turned around when he heard me slam his door and he didn’t look too happy to see me.

I was panting heavily, and was most likely trembling from the shock; I was too terrified to notice. I put a finger against my lips and whispered, “Please let me hide here.”

The man shook his head and placed his bags on the counter. “And why would I do that?”

I heard the heavy fire escape door slamming shut down the corridor, and then a man’s deep voice called out softly. “Tee-fanny… I know you’re down here somewhere…”

He sang it like a nursery rhyme and the softness of his voice made it all the more menacing. The old man and I both stared at each other in shock.

“Tee-fanny.” The voice was louder now and I pressed my finger against my lips once more, pleading with the old man with my eyes.

“Where a-are yo-ou?”

I heard the man walk up the corridor and then back down. He called out, “I know you’re hiding sooome wheeere.”

I heard a door open down the hall and then an old woman’s sharp, high-pitched scream. The door banged shut and the man swore loudly. His footsteps grew quieter as he started running away.

“Get away!” The woman screamed through her door. “Get away or I’m calling the cops!”

“I’m sorry!” I heard the man yell back. “It was a joke, I’m leaving!”

I heard the fire escape door slam shut once again and I peered through the spyhole. I couldn’t see anyone out there and I breathed a loud sigh of relief.

The old man was looking at me curiously.

“It’s ok,” I told him, “I’m sorry about this.”

His eyes were sharp and grey and they took in my sorry state. “You look like you could use a nice cup of tea,” he announced, and I agreed with a nod.

I wanted to thank him for his help, but first I went and sat down on the sofa. I put my head between my knees, the way I’d learned in college, and took deep breaths, in and out, to stop myself from fainting.

When I sat up a few minutes later, the man was putting teabags in two mugs and a kettle was boiling. “You like Earl Grey, don’t you?” he asked and I nodded silently.

I was about to apologize for barging in, but then I noticed his massive grocery bags. “Wow,” I said, “What’re you doing with those gigantic bags of flour? And sugar, too.”

He smiled at me. “Guess.”

“Umm.” I was bad at this game. “Are you going to bake something?”

“Bingo.”

“What’re you baking?”

I’d never met a man who baked before. I’d met men who barbequed, men who chopped vegetables, and even men who helped around the kitchen. But I’d never met a man who baked. I looked around the place – it was sparsely furnished and there were no flounces of feminine color. I was pretty sure he wasn’t baking because of a nagging wife.

“I haven’t decided yet,” he said. “I used to be a pastry chef so now I bake things for fun.”

My eyes widened. “You’re a retired pastry chef?” I thought I might be dreaming. Maybe the aftermath of seeing the masked man in my apartment was making me hallucinate. “What do you bake, cakes and things?”

“Yes.” He removed the teabags and handed me a mug. “I do cakes, muffins, cupcakes; the odd tart or pie… You know. Fun stuff.”

I tried not to drool. “That does sound like fun.” I took a better look at the man. He was definitely handsome, but definitely old. “Who eats all that stuff?”

He shrugged and took a sip of his tea. “I mostly give them away. I take them down to the Retirement Home and leave them there. Either I’ve been increasing the residents’ diabetes, or the nurses are eating them.”

“Wow. Lucky them.” I stared at him wistfully. The man was handsome, he was nice, and he baked cupcakes. He was the perfect man for me. If only he’d been a couple of years younger… On the other hand, if he’d been a few years younger, I’d have professed my love for him right there and probably scared him off forever. My incredible passion would turn me into a crazed stalker. So maybe it was for the best that he was too old for me.

He smiled at me and brought an airtight box out of a cabinet. He opened it, found a plate and placed a cupcake on it. He passed the plate to me. “Try this.”

I stared at the man and then down at the cupcake. It had white icing on top and I bit into it without hesitation. “Mmm… What is this, carrot?”

“Orange and poppyseed,” he said, smiling. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it! This is amazing.” I made uncivilized noises and finished it up. “Mmm, thanks. That was so good.”

The man was beaming happily and I felt a pang of guilt. “I’m really sorry about all this,” I said, “I didn’t mean to disrupt your day.”

“Nonsense. This is nice. I don’t get too much excitement here. It’s rather a boring building, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I agreed. “What’s your name?”

“Glenn Sterling,” he said. “And I know you’re T. Fanny.”

I shook my head. “No. That’s Tiffany. Tiffany Black.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Tiffany Black.”

We smiled at each other and I said, “You know, if you need any help ever, umm, you know…Mixing stuff. Or moving furniture, or whatever. You can let me know. I’m sorry I barged in like this.”

“No, really, that’s fine. Although I may need someone to taste-test my new cake recipe.”

I smiled happily. It was a strange way to make a new friend, but meeting Glenn almost made up for being shot at by that masked man. We beamed at each other and he gave me another cupcake. This time it was white chocolate and raspberry and almost as soon as it came into my grubby little hands, it was gone.

I was heavily sedated with tea and cupcakes, but I remembered to pull out my cell phone and call Stone.

“Yo,” Stone answered.

“I need you to come to my place,” I said, “But it’s not very urgent. I’ve made a new friend and I’m going to wait for you in his apartment while we have cupcakes and tea.”

Silence. And then, “Is that a euphemism? Did someone kidnap you?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“But someone was waiting in your apartment?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re safe now?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

He disconnected and I turned to Glen, who was watching me with a serious expression.

“If your ex-boyfriend’s bothering you,” he said, “You could call the cops. Get a restraining order.”

I smiled, touched by his concern. “It’s ok. I’m dealing with it.”

He nodded. “Let me know if you ever need my help. I might be seventy-nine, but I like to think that I could be helpful.”

“You’re seventy-nine? Wow. You’re really handsome for an old guy.”

I clapped my hands over my mouth but the words were already out. I had turned into Nanna.

Glen didn’t seem to be offended. He laughed and said, “Thank you. It’s nice to be appreciated for my looks instead of just my baking.”

I laughed with him and thought again of Nanna. She could use a nice boyfriend like Glen, someone who was good-looking and interesting but not crazy. I said, “You’re not seeing anyone, are you?”

As soon as the words were out, I realized I was setting up two people for my own greedy motives. In addition to turning into Nanna, I had also turned into my mom. I sighed. “I’m sorry. Forget I asked. You must have people setting you up all the time.”