Wanna Get Lucky? (9 page)

If it was possible for a four-hundred-pound man to slink, then the Most Reverend “Jeep” Peabody slunk over to the sofa and lowered himself to perch on the edge. He fidgeted with a button on his shirt.

I took the chair across from him, taking a deep breath and letting it out while I looked at my guest. “You gave us quite a scare last night.”

This time his eyes met mine. His eyes were bloodshot and blue, yet kind. “You’re not going to throw me out of the hotel, are you?”

“Of course not. It’s my job to take care of our guests. You seemed to have gotten in over your head. Did you just tie one on and go out the wrong door looking for the bathroom? You wouldn’t believe how many times that’s happened.”

He turned his wedding band around and around. “I’ve gotten myself in a bit of a bind. Thought I could work it out. Guess I was wrong.”

“What sort of a bind?”

“It’s pretty simple really. My wife and I are swingers—Trendmakers. You know the group?”

I nodded, my expression unchanged. I’d learned long ago books couldn’t be judged by their covers—especially in Vegas.

“We’ve been members for years, but we’ve been discreet.” He paused. “Come to think of it, I never register as Reverend Peabody. How did you know my name?”

“It was given to me. I believe our front-desk manager got it from your wife, who called frantically looking for you.” I held up my hand stopping him before he asked. “We didn’t give her any information other than that you were sleeping.”

He nodded; I saw relief in his eyes.

“Why don’t you continue with your story?”

“Well, someone got wind of our involvement in the group and started blackmailing me. I can tell you the church would take a dim view of a swinging lifestyle, and my parishioners . . . well it’s pretty hypocritical on my part to preach monogamy, then not live it.”

“I see what you mean.”

“I know I’m taking quite a risk, but I’d never quit the group; they’ve done wonders for my self-esteem. I never knew how many women would jump at the chance for a roll in the hay with a big guy.”

I really wished he hadn’t said that—that whole visual thing again.

“They really were a godsend.”

“God works in mysterious ways,” I countered, pretty much at sea. “Now, can you tell me anything about your blackmailer? For instance, male or female?”

“Female. I’d never met her before.”

“So what happened last night?”

“I’d been attending a bishops’ conference in San Fran. My wife wasn’t with me; she’s meeting me here this afternoon. I thought I would come a day early and arrange a meeting with the blackmailer, try to pay her off or talk her out of it. I don’t know what I was thinking. We met in my room, 10123.”

“What time?”

“Ten last night.”

“The blackmailer actually showed?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Blackmailers usually try to keep their identity a secret. Was she on time?”

“Ten o’clock sharp.”

I depressed the intercom. “Miss Patterson, could you please call
Security. Tell them I want to see the tapes of the main elevator bank and the service elevators in the main tower. Also any tape of the tenth floor in the southwest wing. The time frame I’m interested in is around ten
P.M.
last night.”

“Right away.”

I released the intercom switch and turned my attention back to Reverend Peabody. “Everything in this hotel is videotaped.”

“Everything?” He blanched.

“Pretty much.” I watched him wilt. “Now, go on.”

“There’s not much more. I had ordered a bottle of wine. She insisted on pouring. We talked.” He paused and shut his eyes. “She laughed at me—I do remember that, but I don’t remember much else until I awoke in a strange room with no clothes on. And then they brought me here.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him his blackmail problem was probably much worse now. I’d bet my reputation that whoever met him last night had taken some interesting pictures after she slipped him the mickey. “Was the blackmailer working alone?”

“Couldn’t say for sure, but I got the distinct impression she had an accomplice. She was nervous, and almost apologetic. Not at all what I thought she’d be.”

“What did she look like?”

“Medium height, say five foot six or so. Trim with blue eyes. Her hair was blonde, but it looked like a wig.”

I rose. Reverend Peabody followed my lead. “Reverend . . .”

“Jeep, please.”

“Jeep. Let me work on this a bit from my end, see what I can find out. I assume you would recognize your blackmailer if you saw her again?”

“You bet.”

I led him toward the door. “I’ll be in touch. If you think of anything else, call me, okay? I’ll give you one of my cards.”

“Sure. Don’t guess you could help me with my wife? She’s going to be pretty perturbed at me for not calling her last night. I’m sure she stayed up to all hours trying to track me down.”

The way the guy said “perturbed” made me think the woman was going to start lopping off vital parts the next time she saw him.

“Already taken care of. When she called last night, and we finally put you and her together, I had the front desk tell her half our phone system was on the fritz, that you were indeed in your room, but you were sleeping and they didn’t want to disturb you. I think she bought it; I haven’t heard otherwise. If I were you, I’d give her a call. Maybe apologize for not being able to call out. Do you have a cell?”

He shook his head.

“You’re probably the only man on the face of the planet who doesn’t, but the story should hold water then.”

“I owe you one. How can I repay you?”

I ushered him out the door, stuffing my card in his hand as he was leaving.

“We’ll think of something.”

I
turned to Miss Patterson. “Got anything for me?”

She adjusted her glasses on the end of her nose and consulted a notepad, which she still had to hold at arm’s length to read. “Three suites with appropriate welcome gifts are prepared for your friends from Hollywood. The menu is set for their awards dinner—you are Mr. Jones’s date, by the way. CNBC has been given the Golden Fleece Room. They are setting up their equipment as we speak. You have a meeting with the Beautiful Jeremy Whitlock at two. The Trend-makers are coming by bus this afternoon around four. We will have refreshments for them in Delilah’s.”

“Another day at the zoo.” I blew at a strand of hair tickling my left eye. “Call Bert at the dealership, ask him if he could lend me something fast. I’ll have it back by two.”

I stepped around the wall that separated the reception area from a small coffee bar and opened the fridge. Raising my voice to be heard, I continued. “Call Human Resources. Tell them I need a couple of copies of our file photos of Felicia Reilly and the Weasel. On second thought, get me a couple of Paxton Dane also.” I grabbed
two bottles of water, shutting the fridge with my foot. I rounded the corner just as the front door opened and Paxton Dane himself stepped through. I was glad he hadn’t arrived a few seconds earlier.

“I caught you. Good,” he said. “I have some news, and you’re not going to like it.”

“I knew this day was going too well.” I stuffed the water bottles in my Birkin and slung it over my shoulder. My baseball cap hung on the hat rack in the corner. I grabbed it and slapped it on my head as I handed my Nextel to Miss Patterson. “You know the drill,” I said to her.

“Don’t call you unless someone has a gun pointed to my head.”

“Right.” I turned my attention back to Dane, who was waiting not so patiently. “Now, what’s got your knickers in a twist?”

He cocked an eyebrow at me. I wish he’d quit doing that.

“You know those security tapes from last night you requested? The ones of the elevators and tenth floor?”

“Of course.”

“Well, they’re missing.”

“Missing?”

“We looked everywhere. They’re gone.”

“I see.” It seemed I’d been saying that a lot lately when in fact I didn’t see at all.

Finally Dane noticed the hat on my head and the bag on my shoulder. “Going somewhere?”

“For a drive. Want to come?” The Big Boss had said to keep him close. Besides we needed to talk.

“You’re leaving so early in the duty day?” he said with a smile. This time the smile reached his eyes.

“Call me irresponsible.”

“I have a security briefing in a few minutes,” Dane said, looking a bit torn.

“You can miss it. I’ll fill you in.”

The phone rang and Miss Patterson picked up. She listened for a bit, then said, “That was Bert. He said, and I quote, ‘Your chariot awaits.’ ”

I grabbed another hat off the hat rack and handed it to Dane. “Here. If you’re going to play hooky with me, you’ll need this.”

MY
chariot turned out to be a bright red Ferrari F-430 Spider with the roof retracted. I slipped behind the wheel. “You’re riding shotgun.”

Dane whistled low. “Some ride. Apparently your salary has a few more zeros than mine.”

“There are some perks to working for The Big Boss.”

“You must do more for him than I do.”

“No, I’ve just been at it longer.” I looked at Dane trying to determine whether he meant the implied insult or not.

Apparently oblivious to his faux pas, he was consumed by the car. His eyes shone with lust as he ran his fingers over the wood accents and the fine leather. Whoever said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach had never watched a grown man with a Ferrari.

We climbed in, pulled the seat belts tight. I hit the start button and the engine caught with a low growl. “I’ve got a stop to make on our way out of town. Hope you don’t mind.”

I threw it into gear and gunned the engine, drowning out his reply.

SMOKIN’
Joes XXX adult video parlor and sex emporium occupied a warehouse that encompassed an entire city block on Tropicana just west of Interstate 15. Las Vegans referred to the interstate, which bisected the town north to south, as “the 15,” and those who lived on one side rarely ventured to the other, for reasons I never understood.

Several women leaned against the building as I pulled into the parking lot. They were dressed in boots, tiny tubes of spandex—one for the bottom half and one for the top—heavy makeup, and hollow stares. The car did seem to pique their interest a bit. Or maybe it was the combination of the car and the male sitting beside me. “This’ll only take a minute.”

“
This
was the stop you needed to make?” Dane asked, unable to keep a straight face.

“Just sit. I’ll be back.” I maneuvered the car into a space and killed the engine.

“Want me to come in with you?” he said as he flashed me a wicked grin. “I don’t mind sharing a booth.”

“Perhaps another time.” I couldn’t believe I said that. I pushed myself up and out of the low-riding car.

“I’ll look forward to it, but in the interest of time today, I could help you shop.”

The hookers had left their wall and were sidling over to the car.

“Or maybe,” he continued with a leer. “I can do my shopping out here.”

“Suit yourself,” I shot back. “But I’ll only be a few minutes and, unless you’re Superman, you won’t get your money’s worth.”

As I passed the women I said, “Ladies, the car is off limits. Anything else that interests you is fair game.”

Smokin’ Joe himself was behind the counter when I walked in. Native American, rail thin, Joe had soulful brown eyes, thin lips that never curled into a smile, and tattoos that covered almost every inch of his exposed forearms. He even had “MOM” tattooed on the three middle fingers of his left hand, one letter on each finger. A hand-rolled cigarette dangled from his mouth. I suspected he’d done more than a little hard time. For some reason Smokin’ Joe seemed to like me. I tried not to be bothered by that.

He cocked his head toward the rear of the store. “New stuff’s in back.” He rooted through some papers on his counter and extracted one, which he extended toward me. “Here’s a list of the good ones. Didn’t pull them cuz I didn’t know you was comin’.”

I took the proffered list. “No problem. I’ll get them myself. Thanks.”

The back of the store was a city block away. I took the outside aisle, the one that separated the row of private viewing booths that lined the exterior wall from racks and racks of dildos of all shapes and sizes, vibrators and other foreign objects. For a small fee, on
top of the normal movie rental charge, you could rent one of the viewing booths by the hour to watch the movie of your choice and do whatever, out of sight of the other patrons.

Out of sight, but not out of hearing—a fact I discovered as I walked past the third booth where a woman dressed in scrubs waited outside. Moans and groans and an occasional scream emanated from the booth. My cheeks flushed as I walked past and stepped around the waiting woman.

I’d made it a few steps before I stopped and turned around. My mother always told me my curiosity would get the better of me someday. “I know I’m going to be sorry I asked this, but why is there a line for this booth?”

“Oh, I’m not waiting to go inside,” the woman said. “I’m a midwife, and my client is two weeks past her due date. It’s an old trick of my trade. Sexual arousal seems to stimulate the birthing process. She was miserable, so we thought we’d give it a try.”

“I had no idea.” I listened to the moans coming from the booth. They were coming quicker now. “Seems to be working.” I turned to go, then stopped. “What movie is she watching?” The woman gave me the name. I checked my list for it as I hurried toward the back of the store. Bingo.

When I passed her again, my arms laden with DVDs, a male voice tinged with panic shouted, “The baby’s coming!” Better the baby than his wife at this point, I guess. The midwife disappeared inside the booth. A man stepped out as she went in. Pale and shaken, he took her place as sentry.

All I could think of was the story that kid was going to have when he or she grew up. Being born in an adult video store had a certain panache, a
je ne sais quoi
, if you will. I wondered if the parents would actually share the story.

I deposited my choices on the counter in front of Smokin’ Joe. “Put it on my account, okay?” I was the only person I knew who ran a tab at an adult video store.