Wanna Get Lucky? (43 page)

That quieted the group as all heads swiveled in my direction.

“The police don’t tell me what they’re doing,” I said, taking a bit of wind out of Irv’s sails. My Nextel vibrated at my hip. I looked down and smiled to myself as I read the text message.

On a roll, Irv barreled ahead. “Since Mr. Rothstein is up to his ass in alligators, this hotel is without solid stewardship to navigate these turbulent economic times. Therefore, my investors and I plan to make a tender offer for a controlling interest. Together with Ms.—”

“Irv?” I interrupted.

Startled, he looked at me, his eyebrows snapping into a scowl.

I rose from my chair and sidled around him. “Before you continue . . .” I opened the door and looked into the smiling face of Detective Romeo, two uniforms flanking him. “I believe these gentlemen want a word with you.”

I stepped aside, allowing Romeo and the two cops into the room. Flash Gordon and a photographer followed them.

When in front of Ol’ Irv, Romeo began, “Mr. Gittings, I am arresting you for the murder of Lyda Sue Stalnaker. You have the right to remain silent. . . .”

I stopped listening as Romeo ran through his Miranda spiel. Instead, drinking in the moment, I watched the expressions flash across Irv’s face: disbelief, anger, rage, then—glancing my direction—pure, unadulterated hatred.

My heart soared like a hawk. I had lied about not caring what happened to Irv Gittings. Revenge, as addictive as crack cocaine.

One of the cops fastened Irv’s arms behind his back with a pair of handcuffs.

And Flash and her photographer caught it all.

I gave Romeo a nod and a smile as he led Gittings away.

After all of the nondirectors trooped out, I shut the door and I turned to face the board. “That was exciting, wasn’t it?” I grinned, receiving mostly grins in return. Calm replaced the tension. “I apologize for the drama, but sometimes you have to set a trap to catch a rat. Mr. Gittings, the rat in this story, left a few rather pertinent details out of his story.”

I again took my seat and leaned back, savoring my victory. “This morning, Detective Romeo of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department recovered an audiotape from one of the coconspirators in the plot to kill Miss Stalnaker and to frame Mr. Rothstein for her murder. Mr. Gittings’s voice could be heard on the tape as he planned the crime.”

“Then where is Mr. Rothstein?” asked one of the New York directors.

“Unfortunately, he was admitted to the hospital yesterday with an irregular heartbeat.” I held up my hand to silence the disquieted murmurings. “He’s fine. He had a pacemaker installed last night. He should be back at the helm in no time.” I left out the part about dying once and the part about the myectomy and the specialist flown in from the Mayo Clinic.

I leaned forward, my hands on the table in front of me. “Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?”

FEET
on my desk, hands behind his head, leaning back in my chair, Teddie was holding court in my office when I arrived. I was aware
of a crowd in the room, listening in rapt attention as Teddie regaled them with details of the Trendmakers party—some I was unaware of—but all of them were funny. Probably a bit funnier in the retelling.

Nobody noticed me as I hid in the doorway shielding myself behind the broad shoulders of the Beautiful Jeremy Whitlock—who, I noticed, had his arms around Miss Patterson’s waist, pulling her back against him. The others in the room were hidden from view, but it didn’t matter—my focus was on Teddie.

He was a natural-born entertainer, his expressive face and eyes danced with merriment, holding the interest of his small audience the way the weaving flute of a snake charmer captured the cobra.

He stopped midsentence when his eyes caught mine. Kicking his feet off the desk, he sprang from the chair. “Hey! How’d the meeting go? We’ve all been on pins and needles.”

“I can tell.” In two strides I was in front of him. I grabbed his shirt in both hands and pulled. “I missed you,” I said just before my mouth covered his.

He kissed me back. Now my day was perfect.

I pushed him away, and he dramatically flopped back into my chair.

“Do you think you can miss me more often?” he said as he grabbed my hand and pulled until I was sitting in his lap.

“I’ll think about it.” Arms looped around his neck, I scanned the others in my office. Brandy and Dane sat in the two chairs across from the desk. Jerry leaned against the wall, a sardonic smile lifting one side of his mouth. Jeremy still held Miss Patterson, a very satisfied grin on her face—I didn’t know whether the grin was for me or for her; I suspected both.

“Are you going to tell us about the meeting?” Jerry asked, clearly nonplussed by all the frivolity.

“Sure, but first—is anybody hungry? I’m famished.”

“We’ve ordered pizzas. They should be here in a few minutes,” Teddie said. “I ordered a veggie delight extra sauce for you.”

“Just the way I like it.” I squeezed his neck then proceeded to give them my abbreviated version of Irv Gittings’s fall from grace.

“All I can say is, the minutes from that meeting are going to make interesting reading,” Teddie announced when I’d finished, eliciting another laugh from the crowd.

As promised, the pizza delivery man arrived, laden with enough pies to feed our little crowd and half the tourists lurking in the lobby, and enough soda pop to fill at least one of the pools out back. Everybody helped themselves, and Teddie and I fell to the task of sating at least one of our appetites.

I was on my second piece when Romeo burst through the door, then stopped, an embarrassed look on his face as we all turned toward him.

“Want some pizza?” I asked him through a mouthful.

He grabbed a plate, heaped five slices on it, then parked his butt on the corner of my desk. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Kid, you about gave me a coronary. Your text message came at literally the very last minute. I was about to be thrown into bed with Irv Gittings.”

“Can we use another analogy?” Teddie interjected, in a shameless attempt to get a smile out of me.

It worked.

“I’m sorry we were so late. The tape was in a safe-deposit box at the main branch of the Bank of America on Charleston,” Romeo explained. “It practically took an act of Congress to get the branch manager out of bed and down there with a guy to drill out the lock.”

“You did good.”

His face flushed at the compliment. “I want to know one thing—how’d you know Felicia Reilly would have a tape like that?”

“She was a pretty smart little felon, but neither she nor Willie had the balls to take on The Big Boss—Irv Gittings had to be a part of it.” I took a slurp of Diet Coke. “The crooks I’ve known have always tried to get the dirt on their coconspirators as insurance against a double cross. It stood to reason Felicia the blackmailer would tape Ol’ Irv.”

Romeo’s brows creased in thought. “If she had a trump card like that, why didn’t she play it?”

“She would have, once she was out of his reach. Even though his star was fading, Irv Gittings was still one of the power brokers in this town. If you value your life, you’d better be well hidden when you mess with one of those guys.”

“It still works like that here?”

“With the old guard? You bet your ass.”

Thankfully, Romeo had no more questions. On his last piece of pizza, he got up and wandered toward Brandy.

“Is your leg numb?” I asked Teddie as I moved my butt slightly in a vain attempt to get some blood back into the one spot that had been in contact with the muscles in his thigh.

“I don’t know, I can’t feel it.”

I started to jump up, but he pulled me back down.

“I’m kidding. You’re not moving.”

I saw Flash standing in the doorway and motioned her over.

I didn’t need to glance down at the newspaper in her hand—the self-satisfied look on her face told me all I needed to know. “The last nail in Irv’s coffin,” I said just because it felt good to say it out loud.

Teddie took the paper and huddled over it.

“They held the run for me. I told them it would be worth their while.” Flash parked herself in the spot recently vacated by Romeo.

“Bet they’re not sorry.”

“My boss gave me a raise on the spot.” Flash gave me a grin. “Of course, that’s just the afternoon paper. I’m getting a one-inch headline and my own byline in the
Review-Journal
tomorrow morning.”

“We’ll probably be watching you on the evening news as well. You hit a home run.”

“I owe you.”

“I’d say we’re even,” I said. “Now, go help yourself to some pizza.”

Flash jumped up and went in search of food.

Teddie whistled low in my ear. “My, you’ve been a busy girl, chasing all the bad guys.”

“You’re reading between the lines.”

“You aren’t mentioned by name, that’s true. But this whole caper has your fingerprints all over it.” Teddie leaned me back so he could look me in the eye. “You flushed Irv Gittings, didn’t you? The paper says your young Galahad—”

“Romeo.”

“Right, your young Romeo put the whole thing together, but he didn’t, did he? You did, and you personally delivered the
coup de grâce
. Am I right?”

“What can I say? I’m multitalented.”

“Hmmm, I think I would like to explore that further,” he whispered in my ear. “But, seriously, all foreplay aside, you’ve made a powerful enemy.”

“Not the first time.” I rose, effectively cutting off that line of conversation. “Now, I know someone who would really like to see that paper.”

Worry clouded his eyes as I met his gaze and held it. He shrugged. I knew he was only shelving the topic until later, but I’d take the small victory.

“The Ferrari’s out front.” Teddie grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. “Are you done pursuing truth, justice and the American way this afternoon, or do you have to come back to the office?”

“I’ve hung up my cape for the day.”

“Good. Give me that damned phone.” Teddie grabbed my Nextel and handed it to Miss Patterson as we stepped by her and Jeremy. “Your fearless leader is taking the rest of the afternoon off. Don’t call her unless the fate of the free world hangs in the balance.”

She shot me a knowing grin as she pocketed my phone. “Don’t worry, we’ve got everything under control. And yes,” she said in anticipation of my next question. “I’ll make sure the board members are well taken care of.”

“Thanks!” I shouted over my shoulder as Teddie pulled me through the door.

WE
found The Big Boss in cardiac intensive care, Mona at his side—his hand still clutched firmly in hers. If she hadn’t let go of it since four thirty this morning, gangrene was going to set in.

My father smiled weakly at us. His eyes, intense black points of life in his otherwise wan face, followed my every movement. I sat on the other side of his bed. His hands on my shoulders, Teddie stood behind me.

For once in her life, my mother said nothing.

I cocked my head toward The Big Boss, but directed the question to my mother. “You thought it was him visiting Lyda Sue at your place, didn’t you?”

“I’d introduced them. He was helping her.”

I nodded at her confirmation of the last piece to the puzzle, then I held up the paper for The Big Boss to scan.

When he’d finished, he looked up at me, relief washing over his face. “I told you the Babylon was in good hands.”

“Flash Gordon’s boss gave her a raise on the spot.”

“That’s right, hit me while I’m down.” The Big Boss grinned—this time his smile had some pop to it.

“What is it you used to say? ‘Get ’em on the ropes, then hit ’em again’?” I teased.

“Using my own words against me? You are a cruel, cruel child.” He laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes.

I squeezed his hand. “We’ll leave you to rest. Mom, take good care of him.”

Mona nodded at me, her eyes filled with tears. “Lucky, I . . .”

“I know, Mom. Now, we can all get on with the lives we were meant to have.”

I
always wondered how race horses felt after they’d been loaded in the starting gate, but before the bell had rung—ready to go, but unable to race.

Now I knew.

As Teddie and I rode the elevator to his place, I was careful to keep my distance. One touch from him and, like those race horses at
the bell, I’d leap out of the gate—there’d be no holding me back. The tapes from the security cameras in the elevator would be blackmail material—or else some enterprising soul would sell them on the Internet—either result would not be good. Teddie might get some mileage out of them though—a few minutes with me, and no one would wonder about his sexual orientation anymore. Clearly my mind was grasping at stray thoughts—anything to keep from focusing on the moments to come. I had a loose enough rein on my body as it was without carnal thoughts to spur it on.

“I’ve got some champagne chilling,” Teddie said as we stepped into his apartment. “Want a glass?”

“I don’t want champagne.”

He looked at me and, for a moment, I thought he was fighting back a smile. “No?”