Against The Odds (Anna Dawson #1) (8 page)

“Gentlemen,” Paulie said, nodding at the boys. They nodded back. None stepped forward to shake his hand or pat him on the back I noticed.
 

“Paulie, do you have a minute? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you. You don’t mind, do you Hannah, darling?”

Paulie looked back at me, probably wondering who had my name wrong, himself or Ben. Or, more likely, wondering how I knew Ben so well that he’d be calling me darling.

“Physical Therapy bonding,” I said to Paulie, who thought that over then nodded.

“Sure thing,” Paulie said and started toward Ben. I put my crutches in position and swung-walked a few steps before Saul said, “You stay out here with us, dear. Ben would like some privacy, I think.”

“Oh, sure. Okay,” I said, feeling guilty that I’d assumed Ben wanted to talk with me as well.

Paulie and Ben went back into the lounge and I showed the boys how well I could do on my crutches. Saul was telling me not to overdo it. Gus had found the prettiest nurse on the floor and was chatting her up. Danny just sat in a chair and smiled, silently encouraging me.
 

“Is that as fast as you can go?” Jimmy said, earning a scowl from Saul and the bird from me.
 

After about ten minutes, Paulie came from the lounge, and walked quickly by us all. “See you around, Anna,” he said as he passed me.

“See ya, Paulie,” I said, not stupid enough to remind him we hadn’t worked out any payment arrangements yet. He’d find me when he remembered, of that I was sure.

“Why don’t you go in now,” Saul said to me.

I started moving toward the room but stopped. “Aren’t you guys coming?”

“In a minute,” Saul said.
 

I looked at them all, but couldn’t read them. They’d been around gambling far too long not to have developed good poker faces.

“What’s going on?” I asked Ben when I entered the lounge.

“I just paid Paulie off,” Ben said.

“What? But you said you never got involved with loan sharks?”

“It wasn’t my debt I paid,” he said quietly.

I felt my legs, already weak, go out from under me. I reached for a chair, slid down onto it. “Oh, Ben. You didn’t.”

He nodded. “I did. And now I’m going to tell you how you’re going to pay me back.”

A
nd so I moved in with Ben in his tiny ranch house in Henderson, ostensibly to take care of him, though it was mostly the other way around for the first few years. He—and the boys—taught me how to handle my winnings, how to set up safety nets, how to ride out the losses.
 

And I listened and learned. And won. And won some more. We moved to a bigger place, and then five years after that we moved to the house—a sprawling one-story due to Ben’s hip—in Summerlin.
 

And now I was walking into that house, scared to death of what awaited me.

“O
h Hannah, darling, I’m so glad you’re here. It’s awful. Just awful.” Ben was rushing toward me—or as much as he could rush with his walker. I could tell there was a man behind him, but Ben blocked my view. Lorelei was sitting at the table in the dining room crying.

At least they were both okay.

“He,” Ben said, nodding his head over his shoulder. “Wanted me to go with him, but I said I had to wait for you. I need you to go with me.”

“Of course, Ben. I’ll take you. Where do we need to go?”

“To the morgue. Danny’s dead.”

Sweet, good-natured Danny. Relief that Ben was all right waged with grief over the loss of one of the best people I’d ever met.

Danny was the first member of The Corporation to die.

I always thought it would be Jimmy the way he ate. But no, he was too mean to die young. Not that late seventies-early eighties could be considered young.

I heard Lorelei sniffle at the table. She poked her head out of her Kleenex, shook her head at me, said, “Oh, Jo,” and put her head back into the hands, sniffling some more.

I looked back to Ben who had such a look of pain on his face that it scared me. “Okay. We’ll go together. I’m so sorry, Ben.”

“Oh Hannah, it’s so awful,” he said, his voice catching, his hand, cold, grasping mine.

I wasn’t surprised Ben would be upset about one of the boys passing—so was I. But there was a desperation to him that scared me.
 

“It’s okay, Ben. Danny lived a great life, he—”

“I don’t think you understand Miss,” said the voice behind Ben. “Mr. Lowenstien’s upset because—” his words were cut off when he rounded Ben and saw me.

Just as what I was about to say died on my lips.
 

It was the guy. The good-looking guy at the AA meeting. Or NA. Or GA. The one who stood on the stoop with me and didn’t go in.

Not that I did either.

He wore the same leather jacket. Another chambray shirt with chinos. This time the tie was on instead of shoved in his jacket pocket. But he looked as disheveled and weary as he had that night.

Of course it was three a.m. and he was apparently on duty.

So, that phone call that cut off us possibly getting a drink probably wasn’t a booty call.

More likely a body call.

“You. You’re the—” I said rudely pointing at him only—thankfully—to be interrupted by Ben.

“Detective. That’s right, Hannah. He’s the one who told me about Danny.”

The moment where we stared at each other, then silently decided not to out each other passed and the man stepped toward me.

“Detective Jack Schiller. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. But Danny O’Hern was murdered tonight.”

Chapter Six

“T
he detective wants me to go with him to the morgue, Hannah. To identify the body. But I told him no. ‘I will wait for my Hannah’, I said.”
 

I stepped to Ben, placed my hand over his cold one on top of his walker. “That’s fine Ben. That’s good. I can take you to the…I can take you.”

“Actually, I’ll need to take Mr. Lowenstein, Ms…?”

“Dawson,” I said. “Anna Dawson.”

The time for shaking hands had passed, so he just nodded and went on, “But you’re welcome to ride along with us. I know Mr. Lowenstein wants your company.”

Ben’s face went from despair to panic mode, which scared me. I’d never seen him like this—he was my rock.

“Why don’t I follow you in my car, then I can drive Ben home when he’s…done.” I looked to see if that was acceptable to Ben. A silent, tiny nod of his head told me it was.

“I’d be happy to bring you both home afterward,” the detective, the bourbon drinker,
 
Jack Schiller, said. Though it was three a.m. and he had a weary, lived-in face, no emotion sparked on his craggy, handsome features. All business.

Murder. What a business.

And I thought gambling was stressful.

But with Ben pale-faced and shaking and Lorelei sobbing in the dining room, and our poor Danny lying in a morgue somewhere, I sought out Detective Schiller’s stoicism like a drowning man searching for a life raft. I took a deep breath, determined to be the calming force for Ben that he’d been so many times for me. I’d feel my pain for Danny’s death later.

“No. I’ll follow you, Detective,” I said to him.

He nodded. “We’re going to the city morgue in Henderson, it’s on Palamino Street. In case we get separated. Do you know where that is?”

I nodded. “We lived in Henderson for awhile.”

“We?” he asked.

I pointed to Ben. “Ben and I. Before Lorelei”

The detective looked to Lorelei and back to Ben and me, probably trying to figure out the dynamic.

Sugar daddy? Charity case? Trophy girlfriend? Trophy girlfriends?

His eyes narrowed on me, probably factoring in my standing in front of the municipal building, unwilling—unable—to go in. I offered up nothing.
 

A mystery he couldn’t solve—at least not now. He seemed to mentally file it all away, shrugged, and said, “Let’s go, then.”

“Ben, do you want Lorelei to call anybody while we’re gone?” I asked. “The boys?”

“The boys? Your sons, Mr. Lowenstein? Or maybe Mr. O’Hern’s?”

“Hannah means my friends, Detective.”
 

“Ben and Danny. They’re—were—very close, as were three other men. They meet every morning for breakfast,” I explained. A thought occurred to me. “Why is it Ben that you came to get? Why not any other one of the group?”

“Mr. Lowenstein’s name was found on Mr. O’Hern’s person.”

Mr. O’Hern’s person. Danny’s body. Sweet, soft-spoken Danny. Gone from us.

Taken from us.

Ben thought for a minute, nodded. “Yes, maybe that would be best. I’d rather tell them myself, but I don’t want them hearing it on the news or something like that. Maybe Lorelei—if you wouldn’t mind, dear.” Lorelei, as loyal to Ben as I was, wiped her nose, gave Ben a tremulous smile and nodded. “Of course, Ben. Should I wait for a while, or would it be all right to wake them?”

Ben looked to the wall clock. “Start with Jimmy. He’ll be up. Then Saul. Leave Gus for last.”

Lorelei nodded. “And should I tell them you won’t be at breakfast?”

Ben straightened his hunched, aged body, refastened his grip on his walker. “No. I’ll be there. I may be late, but tell them I’ll be there.”

The detective walked with Ben out the door. I hung back. “Lor, you have any plans for tomorrow? Today, I mean?

Lorelei got up from the table, crossed into the foyer, grabbed a pen and pad from the little table there and said, “Nothing that can’t wait. What do you need done?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe some groceries? I have no idea what they’ll be doing in way of a funeral, but we’d probably better stock up in case we have people over.”

She nodded. “Ben would like that. I’ll get some stuff and make some calls to have something lined up in case we host a gathering or something after visitation or the funeral. Or even just to have the boys over.” She wrote down a few things on her pad.

“That would be good.” I looked around the house, spotless as usual, no thanks to me. Lorelei oversaw all of that. Yes, we had a housekeeper who came in twice a week, but Lorelei oversaw the housekeeper.

I walked over to her, hugged her, which surprised her for a moment, then she fiercely hugged me back. “Thanks, Lor, for everything,” I said.

I’m a tall woman, but statuesque Lorelei towered over me. She kissed the top of my head. “Thank
you
, Jo. I don’t know what I would have done, where I’d be without you.”

“Ditto,” I said, and pulled away.

“And I don’t know what either of us would have done without Ben,” she added, though she didn’t need to.

“Ditto,” I said again, though I didn’t need to.

T
he drive to Henderson was long and dark. And lonely.
 

I kept thinking of Ben and Jack Schiller in the other car. Was Ben okay? Was Detective Schiller asking Ben about Danny? It would probably be good for Ben to tell him stories of Danny. Or would it be too soon?

I was interrupted from my thoughts by my cell phone. Two times in one night. Not a good sign.

“Jo,” Lorelei said when I answered. “I can’t get a hold of them. No answer.”

“Which one?”

“All of them. None of them.”

“Did you try their cell phones?”

“I only have cell numbers for Gus and Jimmy, not Saul. Nothing.”

“I don’t think Saul has a cell,” I said. I knew Ben didn’t and those two were pretty similar about technology and their general distaste of it.
 

Pretty similar about most things.

“This is really weird,” Lorelei said. “I mean, what are all those old coots doing out so late—or so early. Unless…”

“Unless what?” I asked cautiously. I thought I could see where Lorelei was headed, even though I didn’t want to.

“Unless they were with Danny. Or something bad happened to them, too.”

“Oh, man, Lor, don’t even go there.”

“Right. You’re right. I’m just spooked that’s all.”

“Right.”

“Except…”

“Yeah,” I said. “Call me if you hear anything,” I said.
 

“You too.”

“I will,” I said and hung up, my foot pressing a little harder on the gas.

I missed the last light so I was well behind the detective and Ben when I got to the morgue’s parking lot. There were several cars, but I didn’t know if that was usual or not for this time of night.

Could have been a slow night in Vegas for all I knew.

There was a receptionist at the front desk. He looked up, no emotion on his face at all. I suppose he was used to everything in this job.

“I’m with Detective Schiller and—” I didn’t even need to finish; he pointed down the hall to the left. It’s not like he would have known Ben’s name anyway.