Innocent in Las Vegas (15 page)

The road was almost empty at this time of the day, and the desert mountains on either side of the tarmac looked isolated and pristine. We passed a minivan, with a family of tourists, which had pulled over on the side of the road. The middle-aged driver stood with his arms around his young son and daughter while his wife took a photo of them.
A day out in the Nevada desert,
I thought bitterly.

The road grew emptier as we drove further into the desert, and it began to feel like we were miles from civilization. I opened my mouth once to speak, but before I could utter a word, Vanessa cut me off sharply. “Be quiet.”

I sat silently for a few minutes and then I tried again. “The police will figure it out. There’s no real benefit to killing me.”

“I said, be quiet.”

My heart thudded loudly and I wondered who would miss me. When would they find my body? It was sad and strange to know I was going to die soon. It felt unreal, as though this whole thing was a big joke. Like when they kidnapped guys during their bachelor party. I tried to tell myself that it was all just a good natured joke, but I was failing miserably.

Vanessa pulled over sharply on the side of the road. She opened her door, jumped out, and stood there, pointing the gun at me through the open door.

“Get out,” she said.

I shook my head. “No. You won’t kill me as long as I’m sitting in this car.”

“Do you really want to test me?”

I thought of Ethan Becker, sitting there at the side of the road. Vanessa had shot one person in a car, and she probably didn’t need to shoot another. I sighed and opened the door.

“And bring your purse,” she called.

I picked up my heavy tote and stepped out regretfully. I looked around, but I couldn’t see any other cars. The road stretched on for miles and there would be no point in trying to make a dash for it. Where would I even run to? Vanessa could see me clearly and she’d just shoot.

Vanessa’s gun was trained on me and I wondered if it would’ve helped if my gun license had come through. I could have had a gun with me and then maybe the two of us could’ve gotten into a duel. I thought sadly of Stone and wondered if my death would make him sad. It might, but probably not as sad as it would make me.

“Walk up the hill, away from the road.”

Vanessa’s voice was calm and I smiled at her. “Making it hard for them to find my dead body?”

I was trying to be helpful, but Vanessa didn’t even react. I climbed slowly. Every step was a step closer to my grave and I didn’t want to rush things.

I heard Vanessa walking up behind me and I glanced back.

“Hurry up,” she said, “I haven’t got all day.”

“I wish you did,” I joked back, but she didn’t laugh. The woman clearly had no sense of humor.

I thought I heard a noise, and I looked to the right. In the far distance, I saw a car approaching. Vanessa heard it too, and she glanced in the same direction.

“Hurry up,” she said again, “If you don’t walk faster I’ll have to shoot you in the leg.”

“How would that help me walk faster?”

I turned around and watched her come closer to me. Obviously she was worried that the driver of the car would see us, but I doubted it. People rarely notice what’s going on around them and anyone who saw us would just assume we were two crazy tourists. Vanessa pulled her gun closer to her body, all the better for the driver to not see it. She stood a few feet behind me and said, “Come on. I need you to walk faster.”

I turned around to look at her. And then before I could think, I threw my bag violently at her face.

She ducked, surprised, and I lunged at her. I fell on top of her heavily and she moved her arm, trying to angle the gun at me. I moved upwards, grabbed her hand and then banged the gun against the ground. Vanessa yelped in pain as her hand hit a rock.

“Let go!” I screeched. “Let go of the gun!”

But she wouldn’t let go and as she lay under me on the ground, I felt her kick me and try to push me off. But she was a slim fifty-something-year-old, and my extra weight was coming in useful for once as I pinned her down. I tried to focus, and she kneed me in the stomach.

I grunted, and then I pressed down her finger, forcing her to pull the trigger. The gun went off once, twice, and I kept pulling until no more shots rang out. I figured it was safe to let go, so I moved my hand away and pressed down on Vanessa’s shoulders to hold her down.

“Stop kicking me,” I said. Since she could no longer shoot me, all I had to do was find my bag, grab it, and run. She could chase me, but she couldn’t kill me.

I heard a noise and then a shadow fell across us. I looked up.

Stone was standing beside us, the gun in his hand pointed downward. For the second time since I’d met him, I saw the glimmer of a smile on his angular face.

“This is unexpected,” he said.

I watched Vanessa go pale.

“Can I get up?” I said.

“Yes.”

A wave of relief washed through me and I wondered if I could hug Stone. Probably not. There was that gun in his hand, and more importantly, he seemed to value his personal space.

I stood up quickly and said, “How did you find me?”

“Put a tracker on your phone when we went to your parents’.”

“You
what
?” I stared at him in disbelief and my anger bubbled up. This man had no limits on invading my privacy. First he went through my phone book and then he attached a tracker. Of course, it had come in useful. But that wasn’t the point.

“You told me you’d come back after talking to Vanessa,” he said, “But I saw you heading into the desert. No-one goes into the desert unless they’re a tourist.”

I looked down and saw his car parked behind Vanessa’s SUV. She was getting up slowly and I noticed her hand was bleeding.

“Sorry about that,” I told her. “But you were trying to kill me.”

Stone pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and handed them to me. He didn’t say anything. I snapped the cuffs on Vanessa and we all headed back down to the cars. I carried Vanessa’s gun gingerly in my hand. I knew it was empty but I still didn’t want to carry it.

Vanessa sat in her SUV while Stone called the police and we waited for them to arrive. I couldn’t hear his conversation, but a trooper pulled up within a few minutes and two officers got out – a tall, broad man with dark brown hair and a stern expression, and a brunette who looked pretty enough to be a model.

“Stone,” the stern-looking man said. “Good to see you again.”

The two did a ritualistic hand thing, and then he introduced his partner. “This is Detective O’Hara.” He looked at me. “I’m Detective Steve Costaki.”

“Tiffany Black,” I said, and we shook hands.

Detective O’Hara escorted Vanessa to the trooper, and Detective Costaki said, “We’ll see you two at the station?”

Stone nodded silently, and the trooper drove off. I made sure Vanessa’s SUV was locked up properly. It was a pretty car and it was a shame to leave it lying there, but I knew the police would come back for it.

Stone and I drove to the police station, where we waited for a while and then gave separate statements. I told the officer interviewing me that Vanessa had confessed to killing Ethan Becker.

I had been thinking about it during my ride to the station. “You should check taxi records. I’m sure she called for a taxi soon after Mr. Becker’s death, from some place nearby.”

The officer taking my statement nodded and made a note, and I hoped they’d follow it up.

Stone was still giving his statement after I’d finished giving mine. I sent Emily a text to let her know I was at the precinct and she came over within minutes.

“I heard all about it,” she said, giving me a quick hug. “Let’s get some coffee while we wait for Stone.”

She herded me into the staff kitchen and poured me a cup of coffee. There was another detective in the room and Emily introduced us. “Tiff, this is Detective Nick Carlton. He transferred here from Miami.”

“Hi,” I said, smiling slightly.

Nick was slender and wore a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He skin was tanned, his hair was a dark crew cut and his eyes were a warm chocolate brown. He smiled at me and a dimple appeared on his left cheek. I wondered why Emily hadn’t introduced me to this guy earlier.

“So, the Ethan Becker murder, huh?” he said.

I nodded. “You heard. I guess news travels.”

Emily said, “The detective on that case isn’t pleased, Tiff. You’re not going to turn into one of those PI’s we hate, are you?”

Nick was smiling at me and I said, “I don’t
want
you guys to hate me.”

Emily murmured something about catching up on paperwork and disappeared and Nick asked me how long I’d been a PI. I told him it hadn’t been long, and asked him how Las Vegas compared to Miami.

It was surprisingly easy to chat with him and after a few minutes, he said, “So, the guy you came in with, is he a friend or something?”

I smiled, hoping he was jealous. “No, he’s just – we had to work together. Do you know him? He seems to be friends with Detective Costaki.”

“‘Friends’ is probably an overstatement. We know him. He works in security and calls us sometimes. Has all kinds of contacts.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“No. But it’s worrying. His contacts aren’t necessarily the kind of people you’d want to meet in a dark alley. Plus, the guy has no record.”

“So he’s never been arrested? Isn’t that a good thing?”

Nick shook his head. “No, his record was wiped clean.”

A chill went through my bones. “What does that mean?”

Nick shrugged. “It could mean a number of things. Either someone at the top really likes him, or he knows people on the inside.”

“What about his CIA experience?”

Nick gave me a funny look. “CIA records are locked. There’s a former CIA man who works in Vegas as a casino CEO, and he claims to know Stone. But other than that, there’s no real proof that Stone was ever a CIA operative.”

I nodded and we stood in silence for a few seconds, thinking about Stone.

I figured Stone was probably out by now. “I should get going.”

“Mind if I call you sometime?”

I smiled. No, I wouldn’t mind.

The ride back to the Tremonte Casino was quiet. Stone was his usual non-communicative self, which was fine because I didn’t feel much like talking.

This was my first case. I’d met a cute guy and I’d just discovered a murderer. Why didn’t I feel happier? Sure, I was incredibly relieved to not be lying dead on the side of the road. But I was also feeling uneasy – the feeling that I’d missed something just wouldn’t go away.

“Do you think she did it?” I finally asked Stone.

Stone glanced at me for a split second before focusing on the road again. I was expecting a mono-syllabic reply, so I was a bit surprised when he actually said more than two words at once. “She just told you she did.”

“Yeah, she did.” I’d been thinking about that. There was something strange about the way she claimed to not know Audrey. But the way she’d told me about Ethan’s death, and of course the fact that she wanted to kill me after the confession, led me to believe that she was telling the truth. “But if she was going to tell me about one murder, why not talk about the other one, too? Why didn’t she admit to killing Audrey as well?”

Stone shook his head. “Maybe that really was just a burglary gone bad.”

“Do you think so?”

“Do you?”

I gulped, remembering the way the man in black had been waiting for me in my bedroom. He’d picked the lock and he was so very careful as he lay in wait. “I don’t think Audrey’s murder was an accident. But if Vanessa had done it, she would’ve told me. She was in a confessing mood. Mainly because she thought she’d make roadkill of me afterwards, but still.”

Stone didn’t say anything for a long time. And then, as we pulled up to the Tremonte, he turned to me and said, “You did really well. I’m not just saying that ’cause it’s your first case. You did better than a lot of pros. Hell, you did better than the police.”

That was the longest speech I’d ever heard him make and I stared at him in shock. The words only made sense after the shock had dissipated.

“Thank you,” I said, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.

Stone didn’t smile, but his eyes looked happier. He nodded in the direction of the casino, wordlessly telling me to get the hell out of his car.

I smiled. “And thanks for the ride, too.”

I hopped out and headed toward the parking lot. I didn’t look back, but I could hear Stone drive off.

I made the drive to Sophia’s place in record time. It was nice to be driving my own car again and I blasted the radio happily.

Sophia seemed a bit surprised to see me. She walked me into the living room and didn’t bother with any small talk.

“What’s the news?” she said.

I peered at her carefully. Her skin was pale, her hair seemed dry and limp and she’d lost weight. “Are you feeling sick?” I asked, but she shook her head.

“It’s just stress. I have some bad days.”

I could imagine. “I have good news,” I said, “Vanessa Conigliani told me she killed Ethan. She’s at the police station right now, signing a confession.”

Sophia sat frozen for a few seconds, and then her whole body went limp. I saw the tears well up in her eyes and she blinked them back. “You’re not kidding are you? This isn’t a joke?”

“No, of course not.”

I went over and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. She hugged me back and I heard her sniff.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away and laughing. “This has been the most incredible day. I woke up feeling sure I was going to be convicted and now this.”

She laughed again and wiped away a tear. “You must think I’m crazy.”

I smiled at her. “I do. But at least you’re not a murderer.”

Sophia began to laugh again and for a moment I worried that she’d become hysterical. But she calmed down after a minute, and managed to say, “I’ll call my lawyer. I can’t wait to get this ankle bracelet off!” And then she laughed madly again.

At some point, she did manage to calm down enough to call Richard Small and while we waited for him to arrive, she drove me over to a local bakery and ordered me a dozen chocolate cupcakes with chocolate icing and sprinkles.

I headed home happily with the box of cupcakes in the seat next to me. Richard and Sophia were off to the courthouse to sort out some legal stuff, I’d solved my first real case, and I had two days’ worth of cupcakes sitting right beside me.

However, the feeling that I was overlooking something refused to go away.