Lucky Flash: A Lucky O'Toole Novella (The Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Series) (13 page)

He was smaller than I’d thought he’d be, thin, balding, without a hint of badass.
 
Crossing my arms, I leaned against the wall.
 
The guy was a master.
 
Who knew?
 
Underneath the surface of the gangsta music mogul lurked the soul of a jazzman.
 
I’d always wondered why he signed Teddie, who preferred old-school crooning to rock.

His eyes flicked up.
 
He knew I was there.
 
We both enjoyed the rest of the song.
 
When done, he rested the sax across his knee, but he didn’t move.
 
“What can I do for you?”

“I want to talk to you about a piece in your memorabilia collection.”

He looked surprised.
 
“Sure.
 
Which piece?
 
You in the market?”

“Liberace’s ring.”
 
I watched him for some sign of nervousness, subterfuge, self-protection, something, but I didn’t see a hint.
 
“And, no, not in the market.
 
I already own it.”

His face closed down.
 
“Busta’ Blue sell it to you?”

“Why would you think that?”

“He loaned me some money to make payroll.
 
I used the ring as collateral.
 
I wasn’t ever going to sell it.
 
He promised not to.”
 

“So you didn’t know the ring was stolen?”

He jumped off the stool like someone had hit him with a cattle prod.
 
“Busta’ let someone grab it?
 
That was my favorite piece.
 
He said he’d keep it safe, let me buy it back when things turn around.
 
I’ll have his ass.”

I held out my hands, palms out.
 
“Calm down.
 
No, he didn’t let it get stolen.
 
Well, he did, but we have it.
 
It’s safe.”

His eyes settled on me in a fierce, feral look.
 
“So if he didn’t sell it, how come you think you own it?”

“Someone stole it from my father before you bought it.”

He sank back on his stool as the light dawned.
 
“That’s a bad piece of business.”

“You’re telling me.
 
Want to tell me who you bought it from?”

He gave me a slanty-eyed look, his lips pressed into a thin line.
 

“That wasn’t a question.
 
I was just soft-selling my normal pushy self.”

“You’re Teddie’s gal, aren’t you?”

“Was.”

Dig Me shook his head slowly.
 
“Boy messed it up, man, I know that.
 
First time on tour, man… all those pretty things throwing themselves at you.
 
Young and fresh, too.
 
Only a saint could resist.”

“Are you pleading his case?
 
If so, I’d rethink your strategy.
 
Right now, I’m thinking the electric chair would be too humane.”

“Ah, it’s an explanation, not an excuse.
 
Each man’s responsible for keepin’ his zipped, know what I mean?
 
We all been there.
 
Sometimes the best learnin’ is by doin’.
 
Whether you cut him a break, that’s up to you.”
 
He put his hand over his heart.
 
“The answer’s in here.”

He sounded like my father.
 
I was beginning to resent all this advice.
 
“I’d really like to know where you got Liberace’s rock.”

“Busta’ Blue.
 
I didn’t buy it; he gave it to me.”

I was ready for many different answers, but not that.
 
Don’t know why.
 
So Pismo shooting Busta’ was just a lover’s spat, so to speak.
 
Interesting.
 
I didn’t say anything for a bit as I worked out a scenario.
 
Dig Me let me think, playing around with a couple of riffs.
 
Finally, I thought I had it, just as O’Dell’s riffs meshed.
 
“I’m thinking that ring was an ace in the hole and Busta’ was waiting for the right time to play it.”

“How do you mean?”

“Teddie tells me somebody stole a take recently, from his tour.
 
The proceeds from some large sold-out venues.”

“Yeah, that’s right.
 
I was barely hanging on, and that put me and Smooth Sound on the ropes.”

“Where’d the take go missing?”

“Frankfurt.
 
Dealing with the police over there has been a nightmare.”

I grabbed my phone.
 
Jeremy answered on the first ring.
 
“Hey.”

“Are you at a computer?”

“At your office.”

“Can you work your magic from there and tell me if either Busta’ Blue or Johnny Pismo left the country recently.
 
If so, where’d they go?”

“Sure.
 
Take me a few.”

“I’ll wait.
 
And do not lead NSA or the FBI or whoever back to my computer.”

“Might be fun.”

“Not if you want to live to see your wedding day.”
 
He and Miss P were set to tie the knot right before Christmas, so my threat held a bit of intended immediacy.

“You win.”
 
He wanted to marry Miss P in the worst way—his most redeeming quality of the thousands that I knew of.

I tried to keep my brain from running away while I waited.
 

Sooner than few, Jeremy was back.
 
“Looks like Pismo made a quick turn to Europe.”

“Where?”

“London.”

My stomach clenched.
 
Dang.
 
I was so sure.
 
And I wanted to wring Pismo’s neck in the worst way. Unfulfilled homicidal tendencies were the worst to swallow.

“Oh, wait,” Jeremy said.
 
“He connected through London.
 
Ended up in Frankfurt.”

“You are brilliant.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

“Of course.”
 
I pocketed my phone and turned to Dig Me O’Dell.
 
“You got a fox in the hen house.”
 
Dang, I couldn’t curb my cliché tendencies to save my soul.
 
So much expression in so few words.
 
How could I resist?

After securing O’Dell’s promise to not do anything stupid—he still had the stolen property issue hanging over his head, and he sure didn’t need a homicide one to go with it—I bolted to the Ferrari and sped back to the hotel.

Dane caught me as I came in the front door.
 
“We need to talk.”

I didn’t even slow down. “Not now, Cowboy.”

He fell into stride.
 
“I need to say I’m sorry.”

“Not now, Cowboy.”

“At least let me help.”

I skidded to a stop taking him by surprise.
 
“You mean help like you did last time?”

He turned around in front of me.
 
“I can explain.”

I started motoring again, hitting the door to the stairs so hard it slammed against the wall and bounced back.

Dane put out a hand, barely saving his nose.

“Look.” I tossed the word over my shoulder as I took the stairs two at a time.
 
“I know how it went down.
 
I’ve seen that chauvinistic Texas redneck side of you, and I don’t like it.”

At the Mezzanine level I stopped and turned.
 
“Didn’t you learn anything?”

He stared up at me from three steps down.
 
“Do I get to talk now?”

“Not now, Cowboy.”
 
I turned and bolted for my office.

He didn’t follow me.

When I slammed through the office door, no one moved.
 
Jeremy, Teddie, Flash, and Romeo were glued to the GPS tracker.
 

“Romeo!”
 
I barked which finally made him snap to.
 
“I didn’t get an update on Busta’ Blue and Pismo.
 
Where the hell are they?”

He made a quick phone call.
 
From the look on his face he didn’t like the information.

My heart sank.
 
“You lost them.”

“I told you,” Flash added.

I shot her a shut-up glance.
 
She wasn’t helping.
 
“And Livermore, he’s on Pressman, right?”

“Right,” Flash said.
 
“Pressman took the goods to a warehouse in Henderson.”

“Okay, Jeremy, you follow Teddie’s stuff.
 
I really need all of it back as he gave it to me.
 
Understood?”

He gave me a quick nod, gathered his things, and headed toward the door.

“Wait.”
 
Flash blocked his path.
 
“I’m going, too.”

Jeremy shook his head at me.
 
“Flash, this is where things get down and dirty.”

“I’m a down-and-dirty kind of gal,” she said, shooting a warning look across my bow.
 
“I chased Pismo down, remember.
 
Risked bodily harm.
 
You owe me this story.”

Over the top of her head, I gave Jeremy a pleading look.
 
He shrugged.

“Okay.
 
But do what Jeremy says.
 
And stay out of trouble.” Why I even bothered saying that, I didn’t know.
 
If there was trouble, Flash would find it.
 
It’s what she would do with it that had me worried.

Flash gathered her things and hustled after Jeremy.
 

Romeo frowned.
 
“The police ought to handle this.”

“For evidence to hold up, you guys need a warrant.
 
I’m not sure we have enough evidence to convince even the most inclined judge, and not enough time to try.”

He shrugged in agreement, but the look on his face told me he didn’t like it.
 

“Let them do their thing, then they can call it in as a crime in progress and your guys can charge right in.”

“Okay.
 
I’ll set it up. I’ll need my radio.
 
It’s in the trunk of my car.”

“You can deal with that as we head across town.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, but I thought I saw a glimmer.
 
He knew.

“Hunting.”
 
I gave him my best evil grin.

“I thought you’d never ask.
 
We’re heading to the Liberace Museum installation, aren’t we?”

“My, detective, your powers are impressive.”
 
Although I sounded like it, I wasn’t kidding.
 
Color rose in his cheeks.
 
The kid never could take a compliment.

“Hope you’re up for a little breaking and entering.”

Liberace’s mansion nestled on a quiet residential street on the east side of town.
 
Formerly one of the most prestigious, the neighborhood now looked old and faded, defeated by heat, time, and the changing of the guard.
 
Wayne Newton’s massive home wasn’t far—he’d recently lost it to bankruptcy, hanging onto faded glory too long.
 
I thought of my own life.
 
Of Teddie.
 
And I wondered what my heart would say if I listened.

The house, a long, lean brick rambler with a French roof, was quiet.
 
The workday over, daylight was thinning toward night.
 
Fifteen thousand square feet of over-the-top kitsch, restored to its former glory.

“Come with me,” I motioned to Romeo as I let myself in the low wrought iron gate in the decorative fence fronting the street.
 
“I know a secret way in.”

“You think anybody’s here?” he modulated his voice to match my hushed tones.

“We dangled the carrot.
 
The thickening cover of darkness.
 
I don’t think they can resist.
 
Hopefully we beat them here.”

Moonlight lit our path as we padded down the drive around to the back.
 
The awnings over the windows had been replaced; large potted palms squatted by the pool, which sparkled, catching the light.
 
Everything looked fresh, new, cared for, as if Liberace had never left.

I wiggled one of the frames around the center pane of glass in the door to the grand ballroom, opening a secret panel.
 
“I hope your guys killed the security system alert.”

“Would I let you down?
 
The new owner is going along with this.
 
He was very happy to know of this secret way in.”
 

“I’m sure.
 
Glad they didn’t change out the doors.”
 
I stepped inside and took a deep breath as memories assaulted me.
 
Mona dancing with the Big Boss, hidden from those who would try to stop them.
 
Liberace in his mink-lined cape playing the part he loved so much, then settling in at the white baby grand to play the music that filled his soul.
 
The first true Vegas showman.