Текст книги "Liquid Smoke"

Автор книги: Jeff Shelby

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

NINETEEN

I slept restlessly, images of Darcy Gill and Russell Simington clogging my mind for the better part of the night. I was out of bed early and did four hard miles next to the water, trying to clear my head and develop a plan. I knew I had to make one phone call to get the ball rolling, and it was the thing I was least looking forward to doing.

I was back at Liz’s, sweating and tired, when I sat down on the front steps and dialed Carter on my cell. He answered with a grunt. “It’s early, I know,” I said.

“Then why the fuck are you making my phone ring?” “Because we’ve got things to do.”

“We?”

I was hoping he still thought of us as a we after the previous day’s conversation. I knew I needed to explain to him a little more about why I’d kept him out of the loop, but I wasn’t going to do it over the phone.

“Yeah. You interested?”

The line hummed for a moment. Then he said, “What are we doing?”

“Feel like gambling?”

“Vegas?”

“No. Lakeside.”

“Blue hairs and penny slots?”

“You in or not?”

“Yeah.”

“Want me to pick you up?” He hesitated. “No. Where should I meet you?” That stung me a bit. It was probably his way of staying pissed at me, and I couldn’t blame him.

“Bareva Casino,” I said. “Noon alright?” “Noon’s fine.” “See you then.”

I hung up and went inside to shower.

I checked on Liz after getting dressed. She was wrapped in the sheets like a mummy. I had a hard time sleeping in even when I did sleep well. She had a hard time getting up if she didn’t have a reason. She had the day off, and there was no reason to disturb her. Plus, I knew she might try to dissuade me from going to the casino, and I didn’t feel like being dissuaded. I left her a note telling her I’d call her later and headed out.

I stopped at a café on Orange to grab some breakfast. I got down an omelet and some juice before I realized I needed to make another phone call. I paid for my meal, walked outside, and dialed the Law Offices of Gill and Gill.

Miranda answered on the first ring, sounding more annoyed than she had yesterday.

“Miranda, it’s Noah Braddock.”

“Hold on. Let me get excited,” she said.

I guessed from her tone that the police hadn’t spoken to her yet. “I need to tell you something.”

“Did you hear from Darcy?” she asked. “Because I haven’t, and I’m starting to get pissed off about it. I’ve got people calling here looking for her, and I have no idea what to tell them. And I can’t believe you just waltzed out of town without—”

“Miranda,” I said. “Shut up and listen to me.”

I could feel her making a face at the phone. “Fine. I’m listening.”

I took a deep breath. “Darcy is dead.”

“Funny, asshole. Shitty sense of humor.”

“I’m not kidding, Miranda.”

I watched several cars go by as I waited for her to say something. “You’re not kidding, are you?” she asked, her voice smaller, weaker.

“No. I wish I was. I found her body. She was in my house when I got back.”

She cleared her throat. “Okay. I’m coming to San Diego.” “Well, you might want to wait until the police get in touch with you,” I said. “They’ll probably—”

“I’m coming,” she said, and hung up.

TWENTY

Lakeside was a small community on the eastern outskirts of San Diego County. When I was growing up, it was one of those places that people made fun of as if it were three states away. But as the region grew, more and more folks moved out that way seeking affordable housing, and it was no longer a forgotten outpost. The Bareva Casino had only heightened the city’s profile.

Reservation casinos were all the rage in southern California. The legality of gambling seemed grayer with the construction of each new cash cow in the nether regions of the county, and no one seemed to care. Throw up a huge monstrosity of a building with some neon lights and the chance to win money and people would come.

Bareva was no different. The casino was a castle-like structure lit up even in the afternoon. The massive parking lot was jammed with tour buses, motor coaches, and cars that had come from all over. It took me ten minutes to reach the entrance from where I left the Jeep.

Carter was waiting out front. He wore extra baggy cargo shorts, a neon-green Quiksilver T-shirt, and sandals. He was holding a Slurpee the size of a small trash can.

I motioned at the Slurpee. “Get me one?”

“Nope.”

“Thanks.”

He shrugged. “Figured we wouldn’t look that tough if both of us had one.”

“Oh.”

“But if we don’t have to look tough for whatever the fuck we are doing here, then I apologize.” He stuck his tongue out and took a long lick on the straw. “And you can have mine.” He held it out.

“I guess we’ll have to look tough.”

“Vindication.” He nodded at the casino. “Are we here to try our luck?”

“Something like that,” I said.

We walked inside. It might as well have been Las Vegas, with coins hitting trays, the relentless ringing of slot machines, bright lights, no clocks, and a noise level that made it hard to think. An occasional joyful scream as someone hit what they considered a jackpot. Old couples huddled at machines, slowly extracting quarters from a plastic bucket.

“Oh, I love the Wheel of Fortune one,” Carter said, pointing at a giant machine with his Slurpee. “I wonder if they have The Price is Right one.”

“I’ll see if we can get you a roll of quarters.”

We moved through the casino to a cage in the center that had an information sign. I asked where the administrative offices were, and we were pointed to a bank of elevators.

Riding up, Carter asked, “We applying for jobs?”

“Yeah, I thought you’d look great in one of those cocktail waitress outfits.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened.

“Thank you for noticing,” Carter said.

The admin floor felt like being miles away from the casino. Plush carpeting. Tasteful artwork on the walls. No incessant bell ringing. The elevator had transported us to another world.

An attractive woman with a bun of blond hair greeted us from behind an oak reception desk. “Gentlemen, how can I help you?”

Carter whispered, “Gentlemen?” and chuckled before he went back to sucking on his straw.

“We’re looking for Ben Moffitt,” I said.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Do we need one?”

She smiled patiently. “Of course. Mr. Moffitt is a very busy man.” She seemed to finally notice that we were dressed in shorts and T-shirts and one of us was enjoying a Slurpee. “Has there been a problem in the casino?”

“No, ma’am,” I said. “We were just hoping to speak with Mr. Moffitt.”

“Are you selling something?” she asked, squinting at us like that might help her figure us out.

“If you could tell him it’s in regard to San Quentin, that would be great,” I said, smiling.

She looked back and forth between us for a moment, then picked up the phone. She turned away from us as if she was looking at her computer, but I thought the move was more to keep us from hearing.

“Carolyn, I’ve got two young men out here asking to see Mr. Moffitt,” she said, apology apparent in her voice. “Regarding San Quentin?”

She looked at me, smiled, and held up a finger to indicate it would be a second. I gave her a thumbs up. Carter moved the straw up and down in the lid so that it made a horrible groaning noise. She frowned in his direction. He gave her a thumbs up, too.

Her eyes moved away again. “Alright. Certainly. Thank you, Carolyn.”

She hung up and swiveled back to us. “Gentlemen, I’m sorry. Mr. Moffitt’s schedule is full today. If you’d like to leave a card, I can have his assistant get back with you to schedule a better time.”

I pulled a card out of my pocket. “May I borrow a pen?”

She smiled, grateful that I wasn’t going to fight her on it. She passed a pen to me.

I flipped the card over and wrote “Russell Simington” on the back. I slid the card and pen to her.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d take that to him right away,” I said. “Tell him we’ll be in the casino for a while. He can find us there.”

She picked up the card. “I’d be happy to take this back, but I doubt he’ll be able to see you today. But if he should ask, where in the casino might you be?”

I turned and headed for the elevator, Carter on my heels.

“We’ll be the ones making a commotion,” I said.

TWENTY-ONE

“Commotion?” Carter asked when the elevator let us out in the casino.

“Commotion,” I said.

“You’re not just teasing me, are you?”

“Nope. I needed something you were good at.”

I thought he was going to start skipping, he looked so happy.

We went to the change cage, and I bought a hundred bucks in chips. I handed Carter half. Then we found a roulette table.

As we slid into the seats, I whispered to Carter, “Go crazy, dude.”

He gave a tiny nod and set his Slurpee on the edge of the table.

A guy with dark hair and circles under his eyes greeted us. “Hello, gentlemen. Thank you for choosing Bareva. Place your bets, please.”

“Sure thing, boss,” I said. Then I looked at Carter and said louder than necessary, “I bet I’m gonna kick your ass here, bro.”

“You and what person twice your size, bozo?” he said, matching my volume. He dropped a couple of chips on black. He glanced at the worker’s nametag. “Fire her up, Bill, and make sure that fuckin’ little pearl lands on black.”

Bill laughed and turned to me. “Sir? Do you wish to bet?”

“I wanna be black,” I said.

“So did Vanilla Ice,” Carter said. “Let’s go. Drop your money.” “You may also bet on black, sir,” Bill said.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I want to be the only one on black.”

A perplexed expression settled on Bill’s face. I looked at Carter. “Next round, I’m black.” “Whatever, Vanilla.” He pounded the edge of the table. “Come on. Let’s go.”

I dropped a couple of chips on red.

Bill spun the wheel. The tiny ball jumped like it was electrified. “Come on, you little fucker!” Carter yelled, pounding the table again.

The ball bounced into the black slot and settled as the wheel came to a halt.

Carter stood and jumped up and down like a two-year-old in a crib. “Oh yeah, baby! Pay the big man!”

Bill laughed and slid some chips toward Carter. Carter reached for them, but I grabbed his wrist before he got there.

“That’s my money,” I said.

“The fuck it is, Vanilla,” he said, appropriately appalled. “And you better let go of me before I make you eat this wheel.” “I called black.”

“Too slow, bozo.” He glanced at Bill, like can-you-believe-my-buddy. “Bill, that’s my money, dude.”

Bill now appeared as if he wished he’d called in sick. “Fellas, let’s calm down.”

People were creeping closer, unable to ignore our voices.

“My money,” I said.

“My ass,” Carter said.

I tackled him, and we fell to the floor.

“This is fun,” Carter whispered as he rolled me over.

I wrapped my arms around his head. “Just you wait.”

A flurry of people surrounded us and began pulling us apart. We both ended up in the arms of security guards. Lots of yelling and people telling us to calm down. For a moment, I wondered if our show was all for naught.

Finally, though, from the area near the elevators, three men in dark suits came toward us. Large, severe men.

I looked at Carter. “Here comes the real fun.”

TWENTY-TWO

One of the suits took me by the arm. Not roughly, but more like he was escorting me around an art gallery.

He smiled politely. “Sir, if you’d like to come with us.” It wasn’t a question, but it lacked the threat I was expecting.

The two other suits gestured at Carter but didn’t take his arm. A wise move.

We moved away from the scene of our lunacy and toward the elevators. My escort let go of my arm but was still smiling. “You succeeded in getting Mr. Moffitt’s attention.”

“Imagine,” I said.

The elevator opened, and we all stepped in. I marveled that somewhere in the action Carter had managed to retain his Slurpee. He was sucking on the straw as if nothing had happened.

My escort stuck a key in a lock above the floor numbers and turned it. The doors closed, and we rose much higher than the fourth floor where we’d originally started. I guessed we went up about ten floors.

The doors opened, and the floor didn’t look much different than the admin offices. The men escorted us into a conference room with a view of the hills and the afternoon sunshine. A crystal pitcher filled with water sat in the middle of a huge mahogany table, accompanied by six matching glasses.

My guy gestured at the plush leather chairs around the table. “Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen.”

We sat down, and they left.

Carter set his Slurpee on the table. “Now what?”

“Vanilla Ice?” I asked.

“You like that? I thought it was pretty good.” “I should’ve dumped the Slurpee on your head.”

“Now that wouldn’t have been good.” He waved a hand around the room. “So?”

“So let’s see who comes to visit us.”

Twenty minutes and two glasses of water later, the door to the conference room opened. A guy a couple inches taller than me with a neck the size of a barrel led the way. His brown hair was buzzed short, and the skin on his face seemed stretched too tight, as if there weren’t enough skin to cover his skull. Acne dotted his forehead. He scowled at us. He wore khaki pants and a black dress shirt with a butterfly collar that was open at his huge neck. Sweat stains darkened the shirt near his armpits. Lots of muscles in just about every place.

He was followed in by a man considerably shorter and less muscular. The second man was around five-ten with the build of a cross-country runner and shaggy black hair that hung to just above sleepy hazel eyes. He appeared to be trying to grow a goatee, but it didn’t seem to want to come in. He wore white jeans and a bright purple polo shirt.

“Hi, fellas,” he said. His voice was high-pitched and squeaky. “What are you here for?”

“Is either of you Benjamin Moffitt?” I asked.

“No. I’m Ross.” He pointed at the gorilla, who had moved next to me. “That’s Gus.”

“We’re here for Moffitt.”

Gus’s right hand shot out and drilled into the side of my head. My head snapped to the side and a rainbow of colors flashed in front of my eyes. Gus was strong.

“Easy, big guy,” Ross said.

I shook my head, clearing the colors from my vision, and realized he was talking to Carter, who was halfway out of his seat. I held up a hand, and Carter sat back down.

Ross smiled in my direction. “Wanna try again?”

“We’re here for Moffitt,” I said. “Dickhead.”

I felt Gus move again, but this time I was ready. I swept the pitcher off the table, swiveled in the chair, and smashed the pitcher into Gus’s head. It disintegrated into a fine mist of water and glass when it hit his temple. His teeth snapped together like a bear trap, and he fell to the ground.

I looked at Ross, who was no longer smiling.

“Is Moffitt coming or do we need to go find him?” I asked.

Ross glanced at his partner. Gus was clutching the side of his head as blood percolated out of his mouth, his eyes shut tight in pain.

“I’ll go get Mr. Moffitt,” Ross said. Carter stood. “We’ll go with you.”

“No need,” Ross said, a little too quickly. “If you’ll just wait here—”

“You can ceme back with who knows what,” Carter said. He walked over and took Ross by the elbow. “Show us the way, buddy.”

I stepped over Gus to follow them. The side of my head was still throbbing.

“Hang on,” I said to Carter.

I turned around and drove my foot in Gus’s solar plexus. The air whooshed out of him like a slashed tire, his eyes bulged, and his mouth opened into a silent, painful oval.

I pulled my foot off of him and faced an amused Carter and a worried Gus.

“Now let’s go,” I said.

TWENTY-THREE

Ross took us down a long hallway to a corner office. He knocked, timid, on the partially open door. A polite voice invited us in.

The room was huge and crescent-shaped, backed by a window that opened up to the expansive valley beyond the casino. Several leather chairs and a matching sofa sat around a glass coffee table in one corner. A magnificent mahogany desk was fronted with two more leather chairs. Our feet sunk into the plush carpeting.

Ben Moffitt leaned back in his chair behind the desk and smiled. “Hello, Ross. What’s going on?”

Moffitt appeared to be in his early fifties. Dark hair that looked like it might have had some help in holding off the gray. Tan face. Bright, hazel eyes. A small pointed nose that fit perfectly over his small tight mouth. An expensive blue dress shirt opened at the neck. A gleaming watch on his left wrist.

Ross shifted his weight nervously. “Uh … ah … Mr. Moffitt … these guys … ah … wanted to see you.”

Moffitt nodded as if he’d been expecting us. “Fine. What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

“To start, you might want to call a doctor for Gus,” I said, gesturing behind us. “His face is going to need some help.”

Moffitt’s eyes clouded over, confused. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t like people hitting me in the head,” I said. “Gus learned that the unfortunate way.”

Moffitt frowned and moved his gaze to Ross. “Ross? What’s he talking about?”

Ross shifted again, his feet kicking at the floor like he had to go to the bathroom. “Well, we didn’t know … uh … I’m not … they were in the casino and …”

Moffitt held up a hand and shook his head. “Thank you, Ross. We’ll speak more about this later.”

Ross took the opportunity to pivot and slink out of the room.

Moffitt stood and held out his hand. “I’m Ben Moffitt. I apologize for any trouble you encountered.”

I shook his hand and was taken aback. I’d expected to walk into an unfriendly room. Moffitt was treating us like long lost friends.

“I’m Noah,” I said.

He held out his hand to Carter. “I’m Ben Moffitt.”

Carter hesitated, then shook his hand. “Carter.”

Moffitt gave a sharp nod and gestured for us to sit down in the chairs that faced his desk. We did, and he eased down into his own chair.

“Again, I apologize for any trouble Gus and Ross may have given you,” he said, forcing a reluctant smile onto his face. “Sometimes they get a little excited and don’t make the appropriate decisions.”

I nodded. “It’s fine.”

“I’ll make sure we make it up to you,” Moffitt said. “No need,” I said. “Really.”

“Well, we’ll see,” Moffitt said. He smiled again, showing some coffee-stained teeth. “Now, how can I help you?” “Hold on a sec,” Carter said. “I’m confused.” “How so?”

“We came up here half an hour ago, and it was all your receptionist could do to shoo us back into the elevator,” he said. “Then we get your attention in the casino, Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dumbass try to put the squeeze on us, and now we’re sitting here and you seem happy to see us?”

Moffitt looked amused. “First off, the receptionist is instructed to turn away anyone looking to see me. If I made myself available to every person who lost twenty bucks in my casino, I’d never get anything done.” He smiled. “I don’t know what you’re referring to in the casino. Gus is one of my heads of security. He’s instructed to handle situations.” His smile dimmed. “What he’s not instructed to do is harass our patrons, regardless of what has occurred.” He leaned forward. “My willingness to speak to you is my way of apologizing for the inappropriate treatment you may have experienced.”

Moffitt was smooth, polished. Just like the room. I thought it was interesting that he hadn’t asked what occurred downstairs. I wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. But I had a difficult time thinking he didn’t know about every little thing that was happening in his casino.

“I’m an investigator,” I said.

“Not from the gaming commission, I hope,” Moffitt said, chuckling.

“No. I’m working for a man named Russell Simington.” I watched for a reaction but saw nothing. “Should I know that name?” Moffitt asked. “I believe he worked for you.”

“Mr. Braddock, I’ve got over two thousand employees working in my casinos,” he said. “I wish I knew them all by name, but I don’t.” “He’s in jail now.” Moffitt leaned back in his chair. “On death row,” I said. Moffitt still showed nothing.

Carter reached over to the edge of the desk and picked up a medium-sized crystal paper weight. It was shaped like a large egg, and it looked expensive. He turned it over in his hands, examining it.

Moffitt started to say something, then stopped.

“I’ve been told he worked for you,” I said.

“I can certainly check to see if that’s accurate,” Moffitt said, looking from me to Carter and back to me.

“Name doesn’t sound the least bit familiar?”

Moffitt shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. Like I said, two thousand is a big number. But I’ll be happy to have Human Resources check the name. I can have someone get you the information by tomorrow morning.” He paused. “Why is he facing execution?”

Carter tossed the paperweight up in the air and let it fall back into his hands. He threw it again, a little higher this time, and had to reach behind himself to make the catch.

Moffitt cleared his throat but said nothing.

“He killed two men,” I said.

Moffitt gave a small wince. “Wow.” “Yeah.”

Carter set the crystal egg back on the desk. Moffitt hesitated for a moment, then reached over and repositioned the egg a fraction of an inch.

He leaned back in his chair, looking more relaxed now. “Can I ask why you’d choose to work for someone like that?”

A loaded question if I’d ever heard one. But I wasn’t about to explain the complicated situation involving my father.

“I’m just checking into some things,” I said. “How about Landon Keene?”

Moffitt raised an eyebrow. “Another employee?”

“Yes.”

He thought about it, then shook his head. “Don’t recognize that name, either. But I’ll be happy to have my people research that as well.”

If he knew anything, he wasn’t going to give it up. And his act was so good, I wasn’t sure if it was an act.

“May I ask how my name came up?” he asked.

“Basic background checks,” I lied. “Employment history and things like that. Figured I’d start at the top. I’m just looking to get a few things corroborated.”

“Of course,” he said, seeming satisfied. “Well, as I said, it’s impossible for me to know the names of everyone who works here. But we keep diligent records. If either of them were employed here, we’ll be able to tell you exactly when they were here and what they did.” He opened a drawer, pulled out a card, and slid it across the desk. Susan Hayward, Vice President of Human Resources was printed on it, along with a phone number. “I’ll let Susan know you’ll be calling tomorrow morning. She’ll be able to give you your answers.”

It seemed like an invitation to leave. Carter and I stood. Moffitt came around the desk and walked us to the door.

He held out a hand. “I’m sorry again for the incident, Mr. Braddock.”

I shook his hand and smiled. “No problem.”

He and Carter shook hands.

“Come back and visit us anytime,” Moffitt said.

“Right,” Carter said.

We walked down the hallway to the elevator. No sign of Gus or Ross.

The bell above the elevator dinged, and we stepped in. “Guy’s a goddamn psychic,” Carter said.

“I’ll say,” I said, pushing the button for the lobby and watching the doors close. “Dude knew my last name even though I never gave it to him.”