Deadly Disco in Las Vegas: A Humorous Tiffany Black Mystery (Tiffany Black Mysteries Book 6) (7 page)

“If I’m ever dead,” declared my mother, “I’d want you to look into it.”

We were sitting around the dining table, digging into our lunches. Chicken-mushroom pies and salads, and there was the promise of chocolate pudding for dessert. The table felt a little empty, and every now and then I glanced at the chair where Nanna used to sit. She’d lived with my parents for the last ten years, but recently she’d up and gotten married, and was now busy honeymooning with her new husband.

“Why’s that?” Ian asked between mouthfuls.

“Well, I’d like you to know if someone killed me,” said Mom. “It might be my friend Muffy. She always was jealous of my pumpkin pie recipe and I never gave it to her.”

“I’m sure no one would kill you over a pie recipe,” I told her.

Ian said, “Most killers are psychopaths. Or it’s the spouse.” He slid his eyes over to my dad and eyed him suspiciously. “You don’t shoot, do you, Mr. Black?”

I said, “Don’t be rude, Ian.”

My dad wasn’t offended. He smiled and said, “I’m flattered you think I’d bother to kill someone. It takes a lot of smarts, you know, getting away with murder.”

Ian nodded. “Yeah, killers are really smart people. And really brave.”

“I’d like to think I’m brave,” my dad said, “but I love my wife too much. I can’t even get angry with her, ever. She’s the light of my life.”

My mom and dad smiled at each other and made goofy, lovey-dovey eyes, and Ian wrinkled his nose. “Nothing worse than old people in love,” he said. “Don’t you guys know how gross that is?”

“It’s certainly uncool,” I agreed, secretly thrilled that my parents were still so in love.

My mother turned to me and said, “I know you young people are only interested in being ‘cool’ these days, but it is important to find love. Look at your Nanna—even she fell in love and got married.”

“Yes,” I said, “but after Grandpa died, Nanna was single for fifteen years. When she lived out here, she was up late every night, hanging out with her Old People’s Gang.” I didn’t mention that Nanna was also staying up late playing poker and winning money off green tourists. “And she dated lots of people. Remember that young guy who was twenty-three?”

My mother made the sign of the cross and said, “Thank God your Nanna’s married now.”

Ian said, “I want to get married. And sometimes I meet girls who say they’ll marry me. But then my lawyer butts in and the girls run away.”

“Those girls are gold diggers,” I reminded Ian. “Vegas attracts lots of pretty young girls who want a quick meal ticket, and sometimes they think it’s you. The girls run off once your lawyer makes it clear that they can’t get to your trust fund.”

My mother patted Ian’s hand gently. “Those girls aren’t right for you. You’ll find someone better.”

“Aha!” I said, seeing my opportunity and pouncing. “So you do admit that it’s important to marry the right person.”

“Of course,” said my mother. “But how will you marry the right person if you never meet them?”

I chewed my mouthful of chicken-mushroom pie thoughtfully. I’d met some people who might be “the right person.” Stone and I had always been good friends, and then one night we’d shared a long, passionate kiss. And then, of course, he’d disappeared. So I couldn’t quite call him the “right person.” But there was Detective Dimitriou—or Ryan, as he told me to call him. He was definitely around, and I should absolutely get to know him better. Those shimmering gray eyes of his always turned my insides to jelly.

“Tiffany?” my mother was saying. “Tiffany?”

“Huh?” I came back to reality with a start and looked at her. “What? What’d I miss?”

“I was just telling you,” my mother said, “that my friend Lorraine’s son is going to be in town next week. Why don’t I ask him to give you a call?”

I made a face. “No, thanks,” I said. “Why don’t you tell me how Nanna’s honeymoon’s going instead? Didn’t she call you last night?”

I managed to distract my mother successfully, and as I listened to her description of Nanna’s visit to Hollywood, I thought distractedly about Josh’s death. Nothing unusual seemed to be turning up, but I had to agree with Mary—something just felt off about the whole thing.

By the time Ian and I got home, it was late afternoon. We decided to take a break from sleuthing and try to see if we could make some more cupcakes. We found the stand mixer that Mary had given us, and then Ian found the old mixer that had belonged to Glenn.

“Let’s try this one more time,” he said. “And then we can give it back to Glenn or ask him what to do with it.”

We plugged it into the socket, Ian pressed a button, and the mixer whirred to life.

“That’s odd,” Ian said. “It didn’t work last time.”

He disconnected the plug, reconnected and tried again. Once again, the old mixer whirred to life.

“Maybe I hadn’t plugged it in correctly the last time,” he said.

“It looks like it’s working perfectly,” I agreed.

“What about this new mixer? Should we just keep it?”

I made a face. I didn’t quite feel right about keeping this new mixer, and maybe Mary would want to use it at some point. So I said, “It’s probably best to give it back to Mary.”

We headed back to the car, and I drove over to Mary’s house. The sun was dipping down low, and pretty soon, the Strip’s neon lights would turn on. Most of the houses on Mary’s street seemed to have some kind of activity now—there were more cars parked in the driveway, and voices floated over from someone’s backyard, where two kids seemed to be playing with a yapping dog.

Ian and I walked down the short driveway to Mary’s house. Just when we were about to knock, we heard voices drift out of the open window of her living room.

“I know you’re upset,” Mary was saying. “But this is what I’ve decided.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” It was Taylor’s voice, and he sounded decidedly angry. “Those PIs are going to stir up all kinds of dirt.”

“Sweetheart, it’s for the best.” Mary’s voice was low, and I could tell she was trying to placate her son. “It’s important to know the truth.”

“There is no truth! This is bullshit! What if they find something you don’t want to know?”

“I’d rather know the truth,” said Mary. “And Tiffany’s very good at her job.”

“At her job as what?” sneered Taylor. “A casino dealer?”

Ian and I exchanged a glance, and then we tiptoed back to the car and sat down.

“It didn’t seem right to eavesdrop,” I said. “And I’m not sure how Taylor knows I work in a casino.”

“Maybe you mentioned it?” Ian said.

I shook my head. “It just seems a little suspicious. Maybe David told him, but he wouldn’t do that unless Taylor had specifically asked about me. Why’d he want us not to investigate?”

“He’s just sad,” said Ian. “Do you want to go back to the house now? Maybe they’ve stopped arguing.”

“Perhaps this isn’t the best time to give back the stand mixer,” I said. “I don’t want to get Mary upset with us, and she might think we’re looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

“And maybe Taylor will convince her to fire us,” Ian said morosely. “Maybe—”

He went silent, and we saw Taylor stomping out of the house. Ian and I slid low in our seats, and we watched as Taylor got into a Mini Cooper that’d been parked along the street. When he was a few yards ahead, I started the engine and began to tail him down the Summerlin streets.

Taylor drove up to a bar that was a few blocks east of the Strip, and we parked a few cars away from him and followed him inside. I found a baseball cap in my bag that I crammed onto my head, hoping Taylor wouldn’t recognize me, and gave Ian my girly sunglasses to wear.

“Why can’t I have the cap?” Ian whined.

“Because guys who wear baseball caps inside look like they’re trying to hide their baldness.”

Ian ran a hand through his red curls and said, “Well, at least I’ve got my hair.”

“And your health,” I reminded him. “And now you look like you got a little drunk and wore my sunglasses.”

We stepped into the bar and looked around. It was dark, with a long counter running along one wall, booths at the back, and a few tables scattered around. There were two groups of young women sitting at the tables in the middle of the room, and a couple were sitting at the bar and chatting with each other. A group of three men sat in one of the booths, and two couples occupied another.

Taylor was at the bar, ordering himself a drink. Ian and I saw the barkeep serve him two vodka shots, which he downed one after the other, before throwing back his head and gasping.

“That’s dedication,” said Ian. “That dude wants to get drunk. Real fast.”

We waited till Taylor ordered a beer and walked away from the bar, before Ian and I approached, got ourselves two club sodas, and looked around for a place to sit. We decided on a booth at the back, from where we could watch most of the club patrons. Taylor was chatting with one of the groups of women, but then they laughed, and he stood awkwardly, before approaching the other group. The second group seemed friendlier, and he motioned to the waitress, before pulling up a chair and joining them.

“He’s buying them all a round,” Ian told me, as the two of us settled into our booth. “It’s the easiest way to join a group of women.”

We watched for a while as Taylor chatted with all the women. Introductions were clearly being made, and they chatted with each other. There were five women, all wearing summery dresses and looking to be in their early twenties. Taylor didn’t seem interested in any one particular woman, and the waitress returned soon with a round of cocktails.

“Five cocktails at twenty bucks a pop,” I mused. “That’s an expensive night out.”

“It’s just how it is,” Ian said. “And even then, these women might not be too interested in him.”

We watched as Taylor slowly shifted his focus onto one particular girl. Without meaning to sound unkind, I thought she was the plainest girl in the group—limp blond hair parted down the middle; disinterested, flat blue eyes; and a rather plain blue dress. While her girlfriends looked sophisticated and made up, as though they’d put some effort into how they looked, this girl looked like she’d barely brushed her teeth that morning. In fact, the limpness of her hair made it seem like she hadn’t shampooed in a while, either.

I knew I wasn’t alone in my thoughts, when I glanced at Ian and saw him nodding.

“He’s trying to get her prettier friends jealous,” he said. “Classic playa technique.”

“Maybe he’s really interested in her.”

“Maybe,” agreed Ian. “Maybe he thought she’d be the easiest to seduce. For one of the other girls, he’d need to buy at least another round or two of drinks.”

As though to prove Ian right, Taylor and the blonde stood up, and the girl finger-waved goodbye to her friends, who seemed thrilled to see her leave.

“Have fun,” called a busty brunette after them. “Meg, you really need to get a fresh start.”

Ian and I rushed after the couple, but we needn’t have worried about losing them. They were strolling slowly, arm-in-arm, in the direction of Taylor’s car. Ian and I rushed into my Honda, and I started the engine and waited. We’d been in the bar long enough that the sun had set, but the parking lot was well lit enough for us to be able to watch Taylor and his new female companion.

“She’s getting over a breakup,” said Ian. “That must be what her friend means. She’d be quite pretty if she bothered to wash her hair, or even if she smiled and looked happy.”

I shrugged. “Maybe she’ll have fun.”

We followed Taylor south along Decauter Boulevard, which was just east of the Strip, and then he turned into a side street and parked a few houses down. I drove past him and parked a few cars away, hoping he wouldn’t notice he’d been followed. I didn’t think he had—the girl walked with Taylor over to an ugly, squat apartment complex, and I saw Taylor disappear inside with her.

“She must be a local,” Ian said.

“And she must be single. Why else would she live here?”

Ian and I waited for a few minutes.

I said, “What kind of guy picks up a woman days after his dad dies?”

“Maybe he needs a woman’s touch?” Ian said. “Maybe she’ll cheer him up.”

Ian opened the glove compartment, found my stash of chocolate protein bars, and unwrapped one.

“Why’re you eating that?” I said. “You’re not hungry after that big lunch and chocolate pudding dessert, are you?”

“It’s late,” Ian said, “And waiting for Taylor is making me nervous.”

I shook my head. “It’s not dinnertime yet.”

Ian finished his protein bar and started on another one.

“Don’t do that,” I said. “You’re only supposed to eat one at a time.”

“You’re being mean,” said Ian. “I eat when I’m nervous, okay?”

I watched as he gobbled down the bar, and then another one, and then another.

When he got to his fifth bar, I said, “You’ll get sick.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said.

“Well, I don’t have any more. You’ve finished up my whole lot.”

“I’ll replace them,” said Ian. “These are addictive, and I’m nervous. I told you, I eat when I’m nervous.”

Ian munched loudly, and when he finished the last protein bar, silence fell. I didn’t know how much longer Taylor would take, and I finally got restless and called David.

“How was Taylor’s computer-fixing?” I asked.

“Fine,” said David sounding wary. “Why d’you ask?”

“No reason.” Silence throbbed for a few seconds and then I said, “How was Taylor’s relationship with his dad?”

David was silent for a few seconds and then he said, “Not bad, I guess. Taylor wasn’t as bad as his mom thought.”

I frowned. “What do you mean, as bad as his mom thought?”

“I don’t want to get him in trouble,” said David, sounding guilty. “He was a good kid, in the end.”

“He won’t get into trouble,” I assured David. “If it’s something private I won’t go to the cops, and you can tell the kid’s grieving.”

“Well,” said David slowly, “I’m not sure how this is relevant to Josh’s death.”

“It might lead to something,” I said. “Even if you think it’s not important.”

“Well, if you don’t go to the cops,” said David, relenting, “I might as well tell you.”

I waited, and then David finally said, “It’s nothing important. But Taylor went through a phase, just like every other kid. He got caught shoplifting a couple of times. One time, he punched a store assistant in the face.”

“How is this not on his police record?” I said, frowning.

“Every time the kid got into trouble,” David said, “Josh would go down and make it right. He’d apologize, he’d pay people off, he’d pull in favors. Taylor was never found guilty of anything.”

“And Mary let him get away with this?”

“Her patience was wearing thin. But Josh kept convincing her that Taylor was just troubled. He was bored, he had a temper.”

“And you didn’t agree?”

Across the line, David sighed. Finally, he said, “I believed that Taylor was a good kid. But he needed discipline, and he needed to rein in his temper.”

“That’s why you thought he should go off to college,” I said. “So he could spend some time studying.”

“And partying, letting off steam. But, yes. I didn’t think that it would be wise to give Taylor a lot of money to start a business, when he’d never proven himself. The first time he got an annoying client, he’d probably punch them in the face.”

“And what about Josh?” I said. “Did Taylor and Josh ever fight?”

“Every now and then,” said David. “But it was nothing serious. Typical father-son stuff. Recently they’d started arguing about Taylor’s future. But it’s the kind of family stuff you expect, you know.”

I nodded, even though David couldn’t see me across the line. “Thanks for telling me this,” I said slowly. “I’m surprised nobody else did.”

“I guess they didn’t know,” said David. “Other than Mary. And Mary was probably trying to protect her son by not talking about his previous misbehavior.”

“Well, you’ve been very helpful,” I said. “Thank you.”

“This won’t get Taylor in trouble, will it? Because he really is a good kid.”

“He does sound like a good kid,” I said honestly. “I’ll keep you updated on how it goes.”

I hung up and glanced at Ian, who was clutching his stomach and looking a little pale.

I said, “You’re feeling sick, aren’t you?”

Ian shook his head rapidly.

I said, “Do you want some water? I’ve got a bottle of water in there.”

Ian looked like he didn’t want to move, so I reached over, opened the storage compartment, and handed him the water bottle. After Ian finished about half the water in the bottle, I filled him in on what David had told me about Taylor.

“Sounds good,” said Ian when I’d finished talking.

“It’s not good,” I said. “Haven’t you listened to what I told you?”

Just then, Taylor emerged from the apartment complex, walking hurriedly, as though he was fleeing someone. I assumed he’d slipped out while the girl was in the shower, and he got into his car, backed out of his spot, and drove off rapidly. I was quick on his heels and was a little relieved when he parked in front of Mary’s Summerlin house instead of going to yet another bar.