The Missing Ink (21 page)

Hearing his voice startled me so much I almost slid off that slippery chair.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. Didn’t get your messages. I left my phone in the car by accident.”

“Where did you go?” I was acutely aware that my voice was bouncing off the walls echo-style in this room, so I lowered my voice. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Took Sylvia home, and she ended up making an early dinner for me. She told me some crazy stories about the old days.”

“Crazy” was the right word for Sylvia.

“You know, I had to take your client,” I said, barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry; I forgot about him.”

“I took care of it,” I said, whispering now. I didn’t much care at this moment whether Joel missed a client or not, although we’d revisit this later, when I was out of this jam.

“Thanks. Hey, why is your voice so quiet? Where are you?”

I told him, and I told him how I had ended up here. “I need someone to get me out before Chase or Manning shows up and finds me here.”

“Why would someone pretend to be Chase and ask you to go there?”

I had no clue.

“Why don’t you text back and ask?”

“Now there’s something I hadn’t thought of. Text the murderer, or whoever he is, and ask directly what’s up.”

Joel was quiet a second, then, “Why not?”

Had to admit, the idea was growing on me. But first things first.

“Just come and get me, okay?” I paused. “Tell the guy at the front desk that you’re Minnie to see Mickey.” Considering Joel’s suspected persuasion, that wasn’t far from the truth.

“That’s stupid.”

“Yeah, it is. But it’ll get you up here.”

“Where exactly do I go?”

I told him which floor and gave him directions to Chase’s office. “How soon can you be here? I really can’t have Chase find me.”

“Why don’t you just tell him what happened?”

“Because that’s like Lucy trying to explain to Ricky why she’s sitting out on the ledge.”

“All right, all right. I’m only about ten minutes out. Hang tight.” And he ended the call.

Hanging tight was about all I could do. Except … well, I was in Chase’s office, and there really should be a twelve-step program for snooping. With nothing on top of the desk, I tried the drawers—forgetting the Kleenex until it was too late—but they were locked. Looked like I wasn’t going to be falling off the wagon.

There wasn’t even a computer or a laptop or anything that looked remotely interesting. Except maybe the bar.

The little fridge wasn’t locked, and it was well stocked with Heineken and Corona. I took a bottle of the latter, twisted off the top, and shoved a slice of lime I found in a little bowl down the neck. It fizzled as it sank, and I took a long drink. It was cold and satisfying. I took another swallow. I’d have to slow down, though, because if I didn’t watch out, I’d end up passed out on the couch like Chip.

Bored, I paced the room, eyeing a door that was probably a closet. I had nothing better to do, so I pulled on the knob.

It was more than a closet. It was the size of my bedroom, with about fifty monitors flickering gray and white images of the casino floor, the lobby, the restaurants, even the restrooms.

Nothing was hidden in Vegas; little black domes in the ceilings of every resort and casino displayed the good, the bad, and the ugly. Everyone was watched constantly. Cheating was not to be tolerated, at least in the gambling sense.

I suspected that this wasn’t the only room with monitors; Versailles probably had a whole floor of security personnel checking them out. This was probably a backup for Chase’s own personal pleasure.

I scanned the casino monitors, watched some people playing blackjack, roulette. I didn’t understand craps, even though Tim had tried to explain it hundreds of times. He said it was the only game you could actually really win.

The lobby flickered with reflections off the mirrors, and something familiar caught my eye. Joel was lumbering through the front revolving door; he made better time than he’d expected. My heart jumped with the thought that I’d be out of here soon and no one would be the wiser.

I was getting used to the silence when the phone on Chase’s desk rang again, the unexpected sound causing me to spit beer on myself. Great. Now I’d smell like a brewery when Joel got here. He’d think I was enjoying myself. Hey, get locked in a casino office and have a kegger.

Chase’s voice blared through the office, and I ducked behind the door before I realized that it was his message machine. I must have hit the speakerphone button earlier. I relaxed a little.

But the next voice made me tense up.

“Simon? It’s Elise. Meet me where the Elvises hang out. Seven o’clock.”

Elise? Elvises?

But before I could wrap my head around it, another noise—a familiar noise—crashed into the silence.

I tightened my grip on the bottle for lack of any other plan.

Because it was the door. The outside door. I heard it open.

Chapter 37

Joel couldn’t have made it up here that fast. Panic rose in my chest, and without thinking, I ran back into the monitor room and shut the door behind me. Maybe not the smartest thing to do, but getting caught wasn’t high on my list of priorities at the moment.

Heavy footsteps.

“Chase?” The big voice bounced off the walls. Manning.

I heard him open the bathroom door. Guess he didn’t much respect people’s personal privacy.

It didn’t bode well for me, since this room was the only other option, and when the footsteps came close, I held my breath, hoping I could just flatten myself against the wall behind the door and not be noticed.

The knob turned, and a sliver of light sliced into the room, cutting across the monitors. Seconds felt like hours, then—

“Bruce?”

I hadn’t heard Simon Chase come in because I’d been too distracted by Manning, who pulled the door shut with a slam.

Their voices were muffled, like they were talking inside a tunnel.

“You were supposed to meet me in the lobby.” Manning wasn’t happy. But was he ever? “I left you a message.”

“I didn’t get it. I’ve been downstairs.” I imagined Chase going over to his desk to check his phone. The red light was blinking.

“We really need to take care of this.” The urgency was clear in Manning’s voice.

“I understand, but can you trust me on this? It’s better if he just goes back for a while. He can come back later. In a month or so. When it’s all died down.”

I wondered if they were talking about Chip. Maybe Chip really did kill Matt Powell.

My foot had fallen asleep. I shifted a little, the pins and needles shooting up through my calf and causing me to slip. The bottle slid out of my palm—I’d almost forgotten that I was holding it—and I squatted, trying to catch it, but it landed with a thud on the floor.

“Did you hear that?”

I held my breath again at Manning’s words.

“Hear what?”

Nothing for a couple of seconds; I let my breath out softly through my nose.

“Guess it was nothing. Anyway, Chase, I expect you to take some action on this. Show me what you can do for me.”

“You know I will, Bruce.”

A loud knock interrupted, and I froze.

“Yes?”

“Oh, well, oh …” It was Joel. He was here for me, but he didn’t expect a party.

“Yes, yes, we have an appointment, don’t we?” Chase’s English accent wrapped itself around his words. Smooth, very smooth.

Chase told Manning that he had to attend to this right now, but he’d be with him in about half an hour, would that be all right?

“Aren’t you—”

Chase cut Manning off as he continued his good-byes. Finally, a door shut.

Not even a second later, the door next to me swung wide, and Chase stepped in, circling around a second before spotting me.

“What are you doing here?”

I didn’t say anything.

“I heard a noise, and when your friend came in, I figured it might be you. What are you doing?”

“Why didn’t you come in, then? When you heard me?” It was easier to ask the questions than answer them.

He gave me a look that made me think he wasn’t going to play along. But then, “I thought at first it might be Penny. She wasn’t at her desk. Manning wouldn’t like it if he knew she was in here.”

“What, is she spying on people for you?” I glanced over at the monitors. Seemed like Penny’s résumé had more than just secretarial skills on it.

“What are you doing here?” he asked again, this time ignoring my question.

I slipped on a little spilled beer and leaned down to pick up the bottle as I followed him out into his office. “I got locked in. I got a text message from you saying to meet you here, but then I realized it wasn’t from you, but by then it was too late, I was in here, the door was locked, I couldn’t get out.” The stream of consciousness flowed freely out of my mouth. I put the bottle on the bar, Chase not even seeming to notice I’d helped myself.

“I didn’t text you,” Chase said, looking from me to Joel, whose expression told me he was having a hard time figuring out what was going on.

I shrugged. “I know that now. But I didn’t know it before. The person who texted me said I should do the same thing as yesterday, tell them downstairs about Mickey and Minnie, and here I am. If Manning sees me, I’m dead.” Immediately I regretted my choice of words, but in their confusion, no one seemed to notice.

“You’re right about that,” Chase said. “What was the number?”

“What?”

“The number the text message came from?”

I dug my phone out of my bag and hit some buttons, showing him.

“It’s not my number.”

“I know.”

Chase hit a button on the phone and listened a couple minutes before handing it back to me. “No answer, no voice mail.”

I couldn’t help myself. “What’s up with this Mickey and Minnie business?”

“I have no idea,” he said, but something crossed his face, something that told me he knew exactly what it was all about.

“Does everyone use the same code?” I couldn’t help but push; it was too intriguing. Did they do that at every resort in Vegas? I’d never heard anything about it if they did.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, and his face didn’t give him away this time.

We stared at each other a couple of seconds. I opened my mouth, then shut it again.

“What?” he asked.

“Well, you might have gotten a phone call while I was here.” I paused. “And it might have been on speakerphone.”

Chase cocked his head to one side, studying me. “And who might it have been?” Without waiting for me to answer, he stepped around his desk and picked up the phone, hitting the MESSAGE button. He listened to Elise’s message, then set the receiver down carefully, not looking at me or Joel, but staring out the window.

“So she’s alive,” I said softly.

His head swung around, his eyes meeting mine. “I’ll get you out of here without Manning seeing you.”

“Where are the Elvises?”

Chase shook his head. “I’m getting you and your friend out of here. I’ll call you.”

Right. That’s what they all say. And then they never do. I wasn’t born yesterday.

He must have seen my thoughts written all over my face, because he smiled as he came over to me and ran his finger along my cheek, causing goose bumps to rise, among other things. “I really will call you,” he promised, then looked up at Joel, all business now.

Joel was trying not to snicker, and I shot him a look.

“Did you valet park?” he asked us.

We both shook our heads.

“That makes it easier.”

Chase took my elbow and led us out through his office and Penny’s office and into the hall. Instead of taking us to the elevator we’d both come up in, he brought us around the corner and down a flight of stairs to another elevator.

“This will take you out to the loading dock out back,” he said. “When you get there, go outside and walk around to your left to the parking lot. Don’t stop to talk to anyone. Just look like you’re supposed to be there, and they’ll leave you alone.”

The elevator doors opened, and Joel stepped inside. Just as I was about to follow him, Chase put his arm across the door, his body so close to mine I could feel his heat, his deep brown eyes mesmerizing.

“Don’t think about hanging around to follow me.”

I opened my mouth to say I wasn’t—even though the thought had crossed my mind—but he stopped me by leaning in, his lips brushing mine, his tongue most definitely in play. He tasted like cognac, and I caught my breath, but this time it was in a good way.

He pulled away too soon. It was a tease, and his fingers lightly ran down my arm and cupped my hand, caressing my palm.

“I’ll call,” he whispered, then stepped back.

I sidestepped him and joined Joel in the elevator, the doors closing on Simon’s face, and we fell with a jolt.

To his credit, Joel didn’t start chuckling until the doors opened again.

“He likes you,” he said. “And it looks like you like him back.”

“What are we, in seventh grade? Can we just get out of here?” I felt the flush crawling up my neck, and I needed a distraction.

“What’s up with Elise?”

I filled Joel in as we followed Simon’s instructions, passing a few Mexicans loading and unloading whatever it was they had delivered back here, but no one bothered us.

“I think we have to follow him,” I said.

“I think you’re right.”

At least we were on the same page with this one.

Problem was, we weren’t exactly sure just where Simon’s car was, what he drove, or how we’d follow through on this plan. And we had two cars, since we’d both driven here.

“Do you know anything about Elvises and where they hang out?”