Red Roses in Las Vegas (6 page)

“This is Greg, Jay, Chris and Kareena,” Clark said. “I sent you guys an email – Tiffany here’s looking into Adam’s death and that’s her partner, Ian.”

Clark left us and went back to work, and Ian and I chatted with them about Adam. There wasn’t much they could tell us – Adam was friendly, they said, but it’s not like they were really close. He seemed nice enough and had no enemies, as far as they knew. His closest friend here seemed to be Sharon, the accountant Clark had mentioned to us. They didn’t know much about his personal life, other than the fact that he had a girlfriend. She was an interior designer, Kareena offered, but she hardly came to the Verdant Wealth office parties. None of them had ever seen her.

I excused Ian and myself for a minute. We headed out to the parking lot and stood in a quiet corner to discuss our “strategy.” The lot was becoming busier, mostly filling with late-model Toyotas, Fords and Volvos, and employees were entering the building in twos and threes, chatting with each other or exchanging polite nods. These were all the people who’d left home in time, shaved and packed their lunch, and driven at a reasonable pace along the freeway. A little later, it would be the laggards who arrived – the ones who’d nicked themselves shaving, or taken a little too long at the gym, or kept pressing snooze until the very last minute.

I turned to Ian, who was ogling a pretty woman in a business suit, and said, “You know, I think I don’t mind working with you.”

Ian beamed and said, “See. I told you watching all those episodes of
CSI
would come in handy. But you should’ve let me ask Clark about the money laundering. I’m pretty sure that’s what he’s doing, and he keeps lots of cash in here. Why else would he have those fancy alarms installed?”

I looked at Ian doubtfully. “I don’t want to piss him off.”

“But what if his company’s like that firm in the movie? You know, the one where all these lawyers were working for the Mafia and then they killed whoever tried to leave? Maybe Clark killed Adam. Maybe Adam found out what was going on and he was about to blab to the Feds.”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t add up. If they really were working for the mob or something, they’d pay Adam
more
to keep quiet, not pay him less.”

“Maybe they were threatening him.” Ian smiled, his eyes full of visions of a world where the Mob ruled all, and even innocent-looking financial advisory firms were just fronts for them. “It’s just like in
The
Godfather
,” he breathed.

I rolled my eyes. “I doubt it. And if they really are working for the Mob, I can find out.”

“How?” Ian asked eagerly. “Do you know people? Could you get a hit out on someone if you want?”

“Of course not. Nanna knows a guy who’s a retired enforcer.”

“That’s so cool!”

“No. It’s
not
cool, it’s criminal. And you’re not to say anything about Nanna knowing this guy.”

“My lips are sealed!” Ian made the universal sign of zipping lips and throwing away the key.

“Anyway,” I said, “We should split up to cover the rest of the office.”

Ian grinned broadly. “Really? You trust me to interview people on my own? And this is our first case! And we’ve only been working together a few hours!”

“Sure,” I said. “That’s why we’re splitting up, because I trust you. We’ll just talk to Sharon together.”

We were really splitting up because there were at least forty people in the office, including the interns, and it would take forever to talk to them all if we did it together. I was pretty sure most of them knew nothing, just like the four people we’d talked to in the kitchenette – how much do you know about your co-workers’ lives anyway?

So Ian and I talked about what questions we’d ask, and then we split up. It took a bit over an hour and a half for us to get through the whole office. We asked the same questions each time, and we got the same answers too.

Adam seemed like a nice guy; no, he didn’t seem to have any enemies; no, he didn’t seem any different in the days before his death. Nobody knew much about his private life, nobody had ever seen his girlfriend, and nobody knew how red roses might have anything to do with Adam’s death. Everyone thought that Sharon was his closest friend here – she’d given him a lift a couple of times when his car wasn’t running, and the two were often seen chatting with each other.

So, once we’d covered the rest of the office, Ian and I teamed up again to talk to Sharon.

“I could get used to this,” I said, more to myself than Ian. “It’s not so bad having you help me out.”

Ian beamed, and we knocked on Sharon’s door.

“Come in,” called a voice, and we did.

The office was tiny – barely enough room for a person to work in. There was a sliver of window behind the desk, a colorful print on one wall, and a desk with two cramped visitors’ chairs on one side, and Sharon’s swivel chair on the other.

Sharon was a chubby brunette with short, curly hair and warm, chocolate eyes. Her freckled cheeks dimpled when she smiled and said, “You must be Tiffany and Ian. I saw you going around chatting with everyone. Except me, of course. Makes a girl feel a bit left out.”

I smiled back and said, “We saved you till last.” Ian and I helped ourselves to the two visitors’ chairs. “We heard you were good friends with Adam.”

She sighed, and the smile left her face. “Yes. I can’t believe what happened. Who would want to kill him? I can’t believe some little old lady went bonkers and shot him, but then again, it’s a crazy world.”

“Adam didn’t have any enemies? Anyone with a reason to hurt him?”

I saw tears well up in her eyes, and she blinked them back quickly. I was a little surprised – this was the first time I’d seen anyone show real emotion over the dead guy. So far, everyone had said Adam seemed pretty nice, but nobody had known him well enough to be truly saddened by his death. A thought struck me, and obviously struck Ian at the same time.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Ian said.

“Ian!” I said sharply. “Be nice.” I turned to her again and smiled apologetically. “I’m so sorry about that.” It seemed like every time I took Ian to an interview with me, I wound up apologizing for him. I wondered how many people he’d offended on his own.

Sharon sniffed and said, “No, it’s ok.”

We were silent for a second, waiting for her to answer the question, and when she didn’t, Ian said, “No really, do you have a boyfriend?”

We both looked at her seriously and she seemed to understand that we weren’t letting her off the hook.

She sighed. “No, I don’t.” She looked at me and said, “Hard to find decent men in this town, isn’t it? You go somewhere, they’re all tourists, and even the locals’re having too much fun with all the strippers.”

I smiled politely, and Ian said, “Yeah, even Adam was taken.”

I would’ve given Ian a stern look, but I didn’t want to take my eyes off Sharon. She didn’t seem too surprised by the question; she must’ve guessed that we were steering the conversation that way.

She smiled thinly. “And the irony of that is, his girlfriend doesn’t even live here, half the time.”

“Sooo,” I said. “Adam must’ve gotten pretty lonely at times.”

Sharon shook her head. “No. Look, I get that you’re trying to ask me if Adam and I–” she shrugged, twisted her lips, and waved her hands a little, “–if we ever got together. But believe me, we were just friends. The guy was loyal to his girlfriend, the annoying little twerp.”

I smiled despite myself and said, “Why was she annoying? And a twerp?”

“Please.” Sharon rolled her eyes. “The woman was full of herself. Sure, she was tall and skinny and blonde and had a perfect nose…” For the first time, I noticed that Sharon’s nose was little on the wide side. “And she looked like she’d had breast implants too–”

“Hey,” I said, turning to Ian, “Sounds like your perfect woman.”

We grinned at each other briefly and then I quickly turned to Sharon and apologized for the interruption.

“No, it’s fine,” she said. “Anyway, what I was saying was, the woman was just… she thought she was so perfect, you know? With her perfect good looks, and her job as some barely-paid junior stylist at some tiny interior design firm. She barely paid any attention to Adam and the man worshipped her.”

“How d’you mean, barely paid any attention?”

“Well, for one, she didn’t care about Adam’s work. She was happy to live off his money, but she never bothered to show up to work events. Never made an effort.”

“And other spouses came?”

“Sure. And you know what?” She was on a roll now. “She never even bothered to give Adam a lift into work if his car wasn’t working, and if hers wasn’t working, she borrowed Adam’s.
I
had to be the one giving him lifts. The poor guy, stuck with that woman.”

“Instead of you,” said Ian.

This time, I really did give him a stern look.

Sharon said, “What are you, good cop, bad cop?”

More like good PI, stupid PI.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “But it does sound like you’re a little jealous.”

Sharon shrugged. “Adam was a nice guy. But he never saw me as more than a friend. Besides, his type’s like your friend’s.” She jerked her head at Ian. “He liked them skinny and hot.”

I felt bad for her and didn’t know what to say. But even if I did, Ian would’ve beaten me to it.

“So you killed him,” Ian said. “You got jealous and shot him.”

Sharon rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and shook her head. “I don’t know where you get your ideas,” she told Ian.

I did: TV shows and movies. Possibly comics, too.

“So you didn’t kill Adam,” I said, “What–”

“Hang on,” said Ian. “Where you that night?”

“I don’t know.” Sharon looked at me. “Just after midnight? I was probably at home, sleeping.”

“So nobody saw you,” Ian said. “You’ve got no alibi.”

She frowned and I said, “Ian. Let it
go
. She didn’t kill him.” I turned to Sharon and added, “Ignore him. Tell me more about Adam’s girlfriend. How long had they been dating? What was her name?”

“Cynthia Pruttley. They’ve been together for a bit over a year, I think? Before that, he was dating some other blonde bimbo. Don’t get me wrong, Adam’s a great guy, and I’m not judging him. He’s welcome to date whoever he wants. Was.” She looked somber again, but began talking before she could mist up again. “Anyway, Cynthia works for Petite Bijou Designs. The place is as pretentious as she.” Sharon paused for a second, pondering the perfection of their pairing, and then she pulled out her phone. “I assume you’ll want to talk to her. What’s your number? I’ll text it over.”

“Thanks.” I gave her my number and said, “How was their relationship? Other than Cynthia seeming to treat Adam badly. Any fights? Or problems?”

My phone beeped with Cynthia’s details, and Sharon shook her head. “No, they seemed ok. Adam was a pushover when it came to pretty women.”

I thought Sharon was pretty cute, and that Adam was an idiot for not seeing what was right there under his nose, but I kept that thought to myself. Thankfully, Ian didn’t say anything, either.

“I guess I’ll have to give her a call,” I said. “You know what they say – ‘It’s usually the wife.’ Or girlfriend, in this case.”

“To be honest though,” Sharon said. “I doubt Cynthia would even bother to shoot someone. She might break a nail. And besides, Adam told me she wasn’t in Vegas.”

“Where’d she go?”

“Down to LA for work. She went, sometimes. And I figure, she cares so much about Adam that she’s not even back in Vegas yet.”

“I guess I’ll find out when I call her.”

“Sure,” Sharon said. “You never know.”

“What about work?” I asked, changing the topic. I’d asked this question a gazillion times already, but it never hurt to ask again. “Did he have any troubles at work? Anyone here hate him?”

Sharon shook her head. “Nope. Everyone at this place gets along pretty well, mainly because we’ve got a flat structure and Clark’s a pretty good boss. He definitely didn’t have any enemies here.”

“Hmm.”

“What exactly do you do here?” Ian asked. “Why do you have fancy alarms on all your desks?”

Sharon shrugged. “The alarms’re because Clark’s a bit of a security freak. We do – you know, financial advisory stuff. But I guess you meant me in particular? I do all the accounts work.”

“But Matt DiMucci is your boss.”

“Yep. He just oversees what I do, really. And a couple of extra accounts, but that’s it.”

“Sounds like Mob work to me,” Ian said, and Sharon and I shared a look.

“Listen,” she told Ian, “I don’t know where you get your ideas, but we’re just a regular business, here. If I showed you my accounts, it’d bore you to tears.”

“But you don’t see all the accounts,” Ian said. “Don’t you find it weird that your boss does a bit of extra work and that’s it?”

I took a deep breath and said, “Is there anything else you can tell me about Adam?”

“Not really.”

I cast my mind back to the conversation I’d overheard, right before Adam had been shot, and frowned. “Give it to me,” the other person had said. By the time we got to the room, there were papers on the floor, but the desk wasn’t ransacked and the room wasn’t particularly messy. Whoever it was must’ve taken what they came for.