Richfield & Rivers Mystery Series 2 - Stellium in Scorpio (16 page)

"You
kept me from being stabbed," she said and sagged into my chest, holding me
close, and I realized that sometimes she focused on small tasks to keep from
feeling the enormity of larger issues.

"You
want to go up to our room?" I whispered into her ear, not being able to
bear seeing her upset.

"Just
long enough to see Elmo, then I want to go out. I'm too upset to stay in a
small space. I don't think that was just the act of a drunken man. I think he's
been stalking us from the day we arrived, and now, we're starting to get close
to somebody or something the hotel doesn't want us to see," Callie said.

"Or
maybe he's merely a drunken lounge performer who, in his own mind, is paying me
back for decking him in the bar the night he called us dykes. But none of that
matters right now. What matters is, are you okay?"

Callie
nodded that she was. I asked if I could have another look at the drawing the
stranger had handed her before he walked out the door.

Callie
pulled it out of her pocket. It clearly showed a pathway from the casino to a
cemetery, but from
where
in the casino and to
which
cemetery?

We
moved over to a bank of phones and checked the phone directory, but there were
no cemeteries that were a "pathway" away from the hotel.

"I
wish if people are going to give us clues, they'd think it through a little
more, you know?" I said in exasperation.

"Maybe
the people trying to help us aren't used to being in this situation and don't
know how to provide clues. Maybe they're doing the best they can," Callie
said.

"Well,
they're going to have to do better if we're going to stay alive," I said
darkly.

Having
showered and changed clothes, I sat down on the bed and speed-dialed Mom and
Dad. Mom swooned when she heard my voice, saying she'd been so worried when she
couldn't reach me in L.A.

"Mom,
if you were worried, why didn't you just pick up the phone and call me on my
cell?"

"If
you don't have time to call your mother, why would you have time to take a call
from your mother?" she said.

Years
of experience had taught me to let those remarks go unanswered. Instead I put
Elmo on the line so she could baby talk to him. He pressed his ear into the
phone and moaned with joy upon hearing her voice.

"What
did you say to him?" I asked her, taking the receiver back.

"That's
between him and me," Mom replied. "He said you're with Callie, is
that true?"

I
shot Callie a look, having caught her in the act of talking to my mother
without telling me. "Your father said Callie would have you living with
her before long, and I said would that be so bad? At least you wouldn't be
alone and maybe you'd move back to Tulsa with her."

"Just
wanted to tell you that we're safe. Gotta go, Mom." I sent her my love and
hung up.

"Your
dear friend, my mother, says she fully expects that we'll live together."
I looked at Callie with renewed interest.

"That's
because she thinks you sleep around too much," Callie said.

"What?"
My voice elevated.

"She
says women are at your house a lot when she calls. She worries about
disease."

"What?"
My voice was going even higher now. "Let's talk disease. I am not the one
who married a guy. I believe that was you. Do you know the disease you can get
from guys? They will put it anywhere! A blowup doll, a knothole, a sheep—have
dick, will stick!
I
am a woman."

"And
a very sexy one. Take me to dinner." Callie laughed and patted me in an
indulgent way, and I was glad to see that she was coming out of the darkness
brought on by her attacker.

The
hotel's top floor contained a big Italian restaurant with arched ceilings and
painted frescoes taller than the restaurant was wide. It was a quiet, relaxed
atmosphere away from the noise of the gamblers, and I was happy to have a few
hours alone with Callie. I made a mental note that Elmo would love an order of
meatballs.

Callie
was dressed in a pair of navy slacks with a navy blazer, a designer crest on
the pocket, and a white starched shirt. The overhead lights bounced off her
polished gold jewelry and her gorgeous swept-back blond hair with an intensity
that could have lit up an airfield at midnight. When she walked through the
door, every head turned to see where she'd land.

"You
look great in that jacket," she said, referring to the green suit jacket I
wore to highlight my green eyes.

"I
think everyone's looking at you, not me." I smiled.

"I
think they're looking at both of us, thinking we make a nice couple."

The
waiter tried to seat us in the middle of the room at a small table because we
were two women without men. I stopped him, letting him know we'd take the
corner booth. He hesitated, wondering no doubt if he should say that the larger
booth was reserved, or that it was being held for a larger party, or that he
had no wait staff for that area, but one look into my eyes and he undoubtedly
knew, in order to preserve peace, he should fold on this one. He nodded his
acquiescence, and we were seated in a large corner booth where I could slide
close to her and we had a view of the entire room.

"So,
Ms. Rivers, when this assignment is over, are you going back to L.A. with me
and spend some time so we can get to know each other in a normal setting?"

"We
agreed we weren't going to do anything permanent."

"I
didn't say it was permanent. We can re-up the deal every ninety days—for the
rest of our lives."

"I
don't think I..."

"Do
you want me dating other people?" I asked in my blunt way. She looked at
me for a moment and blinked.

"I
never thought you wanted that," she replied, seemingly hurt.

"I
don't
want that, but..."

"Then
why would you do it, or even suggest it?"

"Because...because
you're making me crazy." We both laughed. "I think, I'm not sure, but
I think I'm a nester. Now, before I met you, I never was, and frankly, I
abhorred the idea, but all I want right now is to be together with you in the
same cave, apartment, house.. .hell, even town would be nice! To find out if
maybe you like that too."

"You're
proposing..." Callie teased out the words.

"Yes,
in an impermanent fashion!"

"...that
we live together." She completed the sentence.

"To
please my elderly mother," I said.

The
waiter arrived with a napkin over one arm and a pad and pencil in hand.
"Are we ready, ladies?"

"That
is the very question we were just discussing." I gave Callie a meaningful
smile, and we ordered our meal.

Callie
sat close to me, reached over, laced her fingers through mine, and pressed her
shoulder into me. A musician moved from table to table playing love songs. He
was wearing black tights, a blousy white shirt, and had a big colorful sash
wrapped around his substantial middle. I wondered when he was growing up, if he
ever conceived of the day when he would have to dress like Geppetto to find
work. After the last strains of "Arrivederci, Roma," the violinist
removed his violin from his shoulder as if taking a break in a musical
interlude and then reached into his pocket and suddenly produced an explosion
of red. I lunged across the table and intercepted it before it could reach
Callie. It fell to the table.. .a small red paper rose. I felt foolish and sank
back into the red tufted leather booth as the musicians moved on to the next
table.

Callie
rested her head on my shoulder. "Relax," she said. "It's
okay."

"It's
a rose! Do you think that means anything?" I asked.

"Just
that Italians are romantics," she said and kissed me. "Maybe I'm
Italian."

Her
kiss felt so natural that I wasn't even shy about being out in public with this
gorgeous blonde hanging on me. In fact, I was grinning, betting that the men at
the other tables were wondering what in hell I'd done to deserve this or what I
had to offer that they didn't. I was happily wondering myself when a dark, swarthy
Italian man in his sixties, with the masculine softness of an opera singer,
came to our table and introduced himself as Giovanni, a friend of Karla
Black's. She had told him that we were very interesting writers, and he wanted
to invite us to his home later that evening for a party.

"Many
beautiful people from Las Vegas will surely be there." He smiled and
squeezed my hand warmly.

Callie
asked for directions, and he said once we were at Karla Black's home, we merely
had to proceed up the hill another two miles and the road would dead-end at his
estate. I could tell Callie was interested in going.

"I
heard that you are the ghost of the famous ghoul pool," Callie said,
smiling.

"The
ghosts are everywhere in Las Vegas, even this hotel," Giovanni said, and
then at her probing he tried to explain. "It's an old tale, really, that a
ghost watches over the hotel and guards it. In exchange, the ghost demands a
cut of the earnings. So every night, after the money is counted, a dollar bill
is taken to the ghost to make him happy. A dollar's not much, but over time, I
would say the ghost is doing better than the 401Ks, no?"

"So
who really gets the money?" I asked.

"Like
throwing pennies in a fountain Las Vegas style. It brings good luck and
everyone in Las Vegas is superstitious about luck. Perhaps when the hotel is
destroyed a hundred years from now, the money will be discovered."
Giovanni reiterated that he hoped to see us at his party later in the evening,
and he took our hands again before leaving us in a flurry of spirits.

"He
said after the money's counted," I whispered, watching Giovanni's
retreating backside. "So the money is probably counted in the cashiers'
main cage on the north side of the hotel, maybe that's where the pathway
begins."

"I
think it's more than a pathway. I think it's an underground tunnel,"
Callie said.

"Why
do you think so?"

"I
don't know. Just a feeling," Callie defended herself.

Callie
and I finished our leisurely dinner just as a tray of cream-filled Italian pastries
arrived compliments of Giovanni. It was a nice gesture, and we took a few,
along with the meatballs, back to the room for Elmo.

Elmo
was lying patiently inside his wire show cage and jumped to his feet as the
meatballs and pastries were unwrapped. I placed them in his doggie bowls and
set the bowls on the morning newspaper, anticipating a lot of action. Elmo dove
on the meatballs and in his enthusiasm scattered them all over the floor.

Callie
grinned. "Give me a washcloth. He's got it all over the ends of his ears
and on his paws."

"Hey,
at our house, Elmo and I have a rule: If it's good enough to eat, it's good
enough to wear."

I
glanced down at my hand and nearly jumped out of my body. Clearly printed on
the inside heel of my right hand was a jumble of letters:
320flWAOI.33U.fla
.
I screamed for Callie to take a look, and then we both stared in disbelief.

"Where
did you put your hand?" she asked.

"Nowhere!"
I exclaimed, my mind racing.

"It
was written somewhere and you pressed your palm down on it. What does it
say?"

"Nothing,
just letters!" I nearly shouted.

"Hold
your hand up to the mirror," Callie demanded.

I
held my hand up and both of us stared into the mirror... clearly written was
BRUCEJOANROSE.

"Bruce
Singleton is dead," I breathed, not wanting to think that maybe the other
two were scheduled to die. I held my palm away from me as if it belonged to
Sigourney Weaver. "I am totally freaked out. How did this get on my
hand?" I rushed into the bathroom and scrubbed the ink off, watching it
dissolve almost immediately.

"You
took a shower before we left, so it had to have gotten there between the hotel
and the restaurant. Think about everywhere you've put your hands," Callie
said.

"All
over your body, for one thing!" I replied. "I think whoever did it
wanted to frighten us."

"Everyone
here is frightened of someone, and it's not all the same someone," Callie
said.

We
harnessed Elmo up and took him down to the lobby, where his arrival always
caused a stir. I walked him out the front doors and over to a grassy landscaped
area, carrying a plastic bag with me. Having walked Elmo in other people's
yards in L.A., I'd mastered the inside-out baggie for poop pickup. I quickly
sealed and tossed the airtight baggie and its odiferous contents into a
Dumpster outside the hotel. Elmo scratched the ground with his hind legs,
pleased with his efforts, as we looked up to see Rose Ross heading our way.
Callie called out her name, and she looked relieved and quickly joined us.

"Hi,"
she began nervously. "Is this a bad time?"