Red Roses in Las Vegas (19 page)

I pulled up beside Cynthia’s Summerville house just as the garage door was sliding shut, and I parked in a rush, hoping she didn’t have company.

Cynthia answered the door within minutes of my knock, and she seemed surprised to see me.

“Hey,” she said, taking off her dangling earrings. “What’re you doing here?”

She was wearing a stunning turquoise dress and a gold choker; the gold earrings she’d been wearing a moment ago were now in her hand.

I stepped inside, and closed the door behind myself. “I just had a thought.” I looked around – the foyer and sitting area were empty, and the place seemed pretty quiet. “You don’t have, er, a guest, do you?”

She shook her head, no. “How come you’re alone? Where’s that cute partner of yours?”

I made a face. Nobody ever referred to Ian as “cute,” other than my mom and Nanna. “He’s busy, having dinner with his parents or something.”

“That’s too bad,” she said. “I was looking forward to seeing him again.”

I’m sure she was. But I kept my thoughts to myself and said, “What about you? You look all dressed up.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I just got back from dinner with this, uh, friend. Anyway, what’s this about?”

“Adam liked photography, right?” I peered at her carefully, and she nodded. “Where’s the camera? Did the cops take it?”

“No, it’s still upstairs, come on.” I followed her up, and we walked into a small bedroom, furnished with a big desk, two bookshelves holding financial accounting tomes, a steel filing cabinet.

There were a bunch of keyrings on a plate on Adam’s desk, and I had a few moments of panic as Cynthia tried one key after the other in an attempt to unlock the filing cabinet. Finally, one key turned around, and we both exhaled in relief.

“Do you think something’s on it?” Cynthia asked, opening a drawer and extracting the camera. It was a Nikon DSLR, and I saw various fancy lenses lying about inside the drawer. One of them was particularly long, and I guessed that was the telephoto lens.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “How do you switch this thing on?”

“Just press this button.” Nothing happened, and she pressed it again. Still nothing.

“Maybe it needs batteries,” I suggested, and Cynthia flipped open the battery compartment. It was empty.

She opened the drawer with all the lenses again, and we found a box full of batteries, and finally managed to turn the camera on.

It took a moment to power up, and Cynthia showed me how to get into the photo gallery, and scroll through the photos. I went through each and every one of the photos in that gallery, but it was all harmless stuff – pictures of Cynthia posing, pictures of parties, pictures of food and random casino shots.

“There’s nothing here,” I said, frustrated. I glanced inside the camera drawer again, and that’s when I saw it. A second SSD card, sitting in its plastic container. “How do you switch memory cards?”

Cynthia did the honors, switching off the camera and then switching it on again. I waited for the screen to load up, and when I saw the first image, my heart sunk. It was a shot of a Downtown casino.

But then I scrolled through the rest of the photos, and smiled, pleased. It was all shots of the four women – Rachel Nge, Michelle Ackermann, Nicole Weiss and Alexia Boyle – along with four good-looking men I’d never seen before.

The photos had been taken over a number of days, and there was nothing particularly compromising about them. Nobody was frolicking naked or eating whipped cream off each other’s bodies, but what they showed was damaging enough: gifts being given, hands being held, and the occasional romantic kiss.

Cynthia stood beside me, peering over my shoulder, and I glanced at her. Her eyes were blank, her expression unreadable, and I said, “He wasn’t cheating on you. He was just blackmailing these women.”

She nodded, not saying a word until we got to the end of the photos.

“So that’s it?” she said. “That’s all there is?”

“Seems like that.” I glanced at Adam’s desk, but it was neat and empty of suspicious-looking papers. “Did you know anything about this?” Cynthia shook her head and I said, “Did anyone ever threaten Adam? Do you know these women?”

“I’ve seen them at parties and such,” she said. “But I had no idea…”

Her voice trailed off, and I handed the camera back. “Thanks. I’ll get in touch if I need anything again.” 

She nodded, and I let myself out, wondering what this meant. Maybe it was time to look into all those alibis; it seemed to me that all four of the women Adam had blackmailed had a good reason to want him out of the way.

It was almost one o’clock by the time I got home, and I stopped by Ian’s condo first.

“How was dinner?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Not great. The usual.”

“Why were your parents in Vegas?”

“They came to see me. And nag me.”

“About what?”

“Get a job, do something with your life, you know.”

I smiled sympathetically, feeling a little worried. This was the first time I’d ever seen Ian be anything but exuberantly enthusiastic.

“Well, I have some good news!” I said, beaming happily. He looked at me curiously, and I went on. “Adam Bitzer was blackmailing those women!”

Ian’s eyes widened. “Get out! No way?”

“Yup.” I crossed my arms triumphantly. “I’m pretty sure one of them must’ve killed him.”

“Tell me everything.”

“Let’s go to my place.”

Nanna and Nathan were still out, so I made two cups of decaf and told Ian all about my night, leaving out the part about Cynthia calling him cute.

“I wish I’d gone with you,” he said regretfully. “I could’ve done with some fun. And I’d have done a much better job than Nathan with those flowers.”

“I know,” I said, and glanced at the clock. “Do you think it’s too late to make some phone calls?”

“Nah, they’re probably still at the party.”

I didn’t think so. In my experience, stuffy, boring parties tended to wind down early but, then again, I had no experience with these kinds of posh galas. For all I knew, maybe the women were still over there, dancing the night away. Or maybe they’d headed over to some other glitzy after-party.

“Give them a call,” Ian said, his eyes glimmering with hope.

He was right – I should call them now. An hour wasted, or a night wasted, was not something I could afford anymore.

I called Rachel Nge first, and my call went straight to voicemail. Nicole Weiss was next, and once again, I hit voicemail.

I left the same message for both: “This is Tiffany Black. I’ve got the photos Adam Bitzer took of you. Call me.” I left my number and hung up.

When I called Michelle Ackermann, I got the same annoying man who’d answered the first time I’d called her. “Michelle Ackermann’s phone.”

“Hey,” I said, talking into the speakerphone. “Don’t you get the night off?”

There was a stony silence, and then he said, “Who’s this?”

“Tiffany Bl—”

“Oh, right, I remember you, honey. Michelle’s not going to talk to you.”

“Tell her it’s urgent. I’ve got the photos Adam Bitzer took of her.”

There was a hesitant pause, and he said, “Hang on.”

Ian and I exchanged a glance, and I “hung on” for just a few seconds, and then Michelle answered. “What?”

“Did I mention I’ve got those photos Adam took of you?”

There was a long silence, and then Michelle said, “What do you want?”

“Where are you, anyway? How come you’ve got your assistant still around?”

“I’m at a bar,” Michelle growled. “The party was boring so some of us came round to Fisherman’s, for champagne. What do you want?”

“Right. What do I want. See, right now, I’ve got good motive for you to kill Adam. So I figured you’d want to help me out, maybe tell me anything else you know about him?”

“I don’t know about him. He was the one stalking me.”

“Really? And how’d that happen?”

She snorted, and even over the phone, I could see the look of derision on her face. “I don’t know, he met me at some party and then the next thing I know, we’re having drinks and he’s showing me all these photos of me and Miguel together. I can’t risk my marriage, obviously, so I pay him.”

“Doesn’t your husband see the payments?”

“Don’t be silly, it’s from my account, my money.”

“Right.” So that was the difference between her and Alexia, she had her own, separate accounts. Michelle had been right, a woman couldn’t make it in that crowd unless she had her own money. “And then what?”

“I don’t know, I just kept sending him money. I don’t even look at it, it goes automatically.”

“Right. When was the last time you talked to Adam?”

“I don’t. I never talk to him, I don’t want Fred getting jealous.”

“But you must’ve seen him around?”

“I saw him at those parties and I make a point of not talking to him. Made, now that he’s dead.”

“Yeah, now that he’s dead, life’s probably a lot easier for you.” Next to me, Ian was smiling and nodding furiously.

“Look, it was a lot of money and it was annoying, so yeah, it is actually easier for me. I’m glad he’s dead.”

“So maybe you killed him.”

She laughed. “Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t risk my marriage, you think I’d risk my neck to kill some loser? No way.”

“Where were you last Friday night? Marquee at the Cosmo, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ve run your photo and nobody remembers seeing you.”

This was a bluff, and Michelle didn’t seem bothered by it. “Check the cameras, then,” she said. “I was there.”

It was my turn to be silent. Ian was frowning, as surprised as I was by Michelle’s confidence, and she used this opportunity to say, “Is that it? Because I’m hanging up now. I don’t want you calling me again. And don’t get any funny ideas about those photos.”

She hung up, and I glared at the phone. It was tempting to think of something creative to do with those photos, but I let the thought go. I wasn’t vindictive, and while Michelle was annoying, blackmail was illegal and would get my PI license revoked.

I’d just hung up, when Nicole called me back.

I hit the speakerphone button so that Ian could listen in, and Nicole said, “Whaddya mean, photos Adam took of me?”

“You know what I mean.”

There was silence for a few seconds while Ian and I smiled at each other and she contemplated the situation. “Well?” Nicole said finally. “What do you want?”

“Just some more info about Adam Bitzer.”

I went through the drill, asking her about Adam and how they’d met and what was going on, but I got the same responses Michelle had given me. Adam had met Nicole at a party, had turned up with a bunch of compromising photos, and had extracted money from her in exchange for his silence. Yes, she was happy about his death, but she stood by her alibi – her husband and housekeeper would back her up, she said.

I hung up, feeling baffled by the conversation, and from the look on Ian’s face, so was he.

“Maybe one them killed Adam,” he said, “But they hired someone to do the job.”

“That can’t be,” I said. “The Mob would know about it, and Nanna’s friend would’ve told me. Whoever killed Adam did it by themselves.”

We were staring at the floor morosely, when my phone rang again.

“I got your message,” said Rachel Nge.
“What’s going on?”

“Why don’t you tell me? How’d you know Adam?”

“He met me somewhere, some party.”

“And then?”

“Look, you seem to know the rest, so why’re you asking me?”

“Because it looks like you’re pretty happy he’s dead, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

Ian and I exchanged a glance. “So… we’ll have to give this information over to the cops, and we’ll have to check your alibi.”

“Look.” There was a pause, and then she went on, in a slightly more desperate tone. “There’s no reason to tell the cops. You can check my alibi yourself – I was home all night with Steven.” I didn’t say anything and she went on after a short pause. “Look, obviously it was worth a lot of money to me for Steven not to know about this. I can pay you, if that’s what you want.”

“That’s not what I want,” I said. “The money means nothing to me. When was the last time you saw Adam?”

“I might’ve seen him at some bar. He was having drinks with some guys, but we didn’t talk to each other. I try not to talk to that sleazebag.”

“So… you didn’t talk to him recently?”

“No, of course not. The guy’s scum.”

“And… you stand by your alibi?”

“Yes. And I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t say anything to anyone else about the photos.”

I sighed. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“Of course,” she said, “Anything at all. I can make it happen.”

“Can you get this case lifted for my nanna?” There was silence and I said, “Yeah, I thought not. Thanks anyway.”

I turned to Ian after I hung up.

“Now what?” he said, looking as baffled as I felt. “Everyone seems innocent.”

“Maybe it was Alexia.” I frowned. “She said she was at The Spearmint, but maybe she’d taken the night off. Or left early.”

“I guess we need to check the alibis,” Ian said, and I frowned and shook my head.

“I don’t think it’s a question of alibis. If anyone’s lying, they’ve already covered their tracks. And they all seem to… I don’t know, they all seem pretty sure that they’re not a suspect.”

“Do you think it’s someone else? I guess I could ask Cynthia to look for more bank statements.”

“That’s a good idea,” I said, looking at Ian in surprise. “Maybe there was someone else who he’d blackmailed.”

Ian beamed and said, “Why don’t I call Cynthia?”

“No, no,” I said quickly. “I should call her.” I frowned. “But before that… Adam’s brother, Mike. He knew all these women, Rachel, Nicole, Michelle and Alexia. If there’s someone else, maybe he knows about it.”

We looked at each other, and then we looked at the clock. It was late, but it was worth a shot.