Time Spell (7 page)

My interest was starting to pique. Helen and Holden living in the penthouse apartment, known by everyone, and in the middle of an argument…could be something…could be nothing.

She flung open the door, threw her cocktail bag on the couch, and hurried to the bar to pour a drink. I hadn’t expected her to pour it straight. I managed to tactically skirt around them and found a spot in front of the wall of windows to observe the next battle round.

“Look, Simone isn’t going anywhere.” Holden stated this rather matter-of-factly and looked to Helen to see if she had found this fact to be as agreeable as he had.

I surveyed the furnishings in the Chadsworths’ penthouse suite. A white leather couch with slim wooden feet extended to a U-shape in the center of the room. Matching round glass tables with brass podium centers anchored the couch and made an overpowering center coffee table. There were some interesting art retro pieces on the wall and a metallic starburst, which I later realized was a clock. I looked for effects that might indicate this marriage had created children, but the bright white fabrics were unadorned with smudges or crayon markings, and no smiling little faces appeared in the framed black-and-white photographs of the Chadsworths.

“Simone? Simone isn’t going anywhere? You’re seeing someone named Simone?” Her eyes blazed with fury and contempt. “Holden, I moved to this God-awful place—the desert, the middle of nowhere—to be with you. I left my family, my home, my entire life to build this hotel empire, this casino, to support whatever business deals you thought you had to do to fulfill this dream. You think I wanted to leave New England to be here? And now, when it’s finally all coming together, you do this? After fifteen years? You cheat on me?” Her drink was empty. She stopped to pour another one. “How? What? What did I do to push you into someone else’s arms?”

She waved her drink in the air and waited for an explanation. As if they were back in the ring, I turned my attention to her husband, who stood in the other corner.

Holden looked aghast for a second, but I could tell he was not a man who apologized. He was shocked at her tone and her gall for approaching him, not for the crime he had committed. He walked toward his wife, poured his own straight shot of whiskey, and slung it back with gusto and a smile.

“Now, now, my darling, don’t get so excited. Don’t you know by now it’s not up to you to keep me in or out of someone’s arms? I’ll do whatever damn thing I want to do. And yes, her name is Simone. Look at you, washed-up socialite from the East Coast, spending her nights in overpriced gowns, just waiting for some gullible sucker to pay her a compliment. Has it worked for you yet?” He glanced at his heavy gold watch tucked beneath his jacket sleeve.

“Don’t wait up tonight.” He brushed a passing kiss on her cheek, winked, and walked toward the double doors that towered over the apartment entrance. “Oh, in case you’re wondering, she’s twenty-five, so maybe there is something you could do—stop being so desperate to hold on to who you used to be. No one here cares if you used to be young and beautiful. Simone actually is both of those things.” He chuckled maliciously.

Helen screamed as she scrambled for the highball glass sitting on the bar. She threw it, and a shower of glass and whiskey barely missed her husband’s head as he walked out the door. There was a quiet click from the latch and he was gone.

I expected to see Helen crumple to the floor in anguish or cry out for her husband to return, but instead she crossed the room to the telephone, calmly picked up the long handled receiver, and dialed.

“Hi, Simone. Yeah, he bought it. He’s on his way to see you. Stick with the plan. Just stick with it, darling.” She smiled and hung up.

Now, I knew I had a story.

H
ELEN DREW
a cigarette from her clutch and held one end to her mouth while lighting the other with what looked like a woman’s lighter, engraved on the edge. It was silver and shaped like a tube of lipstick with a diamond on the side as the flame’s trigger. It was probably a gift from Holden, a memento from happier days.

She eased herself onto the U of the couch, curled her legs behind her, and let her eyes drift toward the windows, as if in a trance or maybe in a state of relaxation. Whichever one, I decided she had played her part in whatever scheme was now underway between her and Simone. I needed to follow Holden.

Helen’s eyes scanned the budding Las Vegas skyline. Miles and miles of desert stretched beyond the inner bull’s-eye of construction trailers, cranes, and the twinkling lights of the newly birthed casino world. The desert’s burgundy sunset had faded to blue coal as the blinking lights of pop-stand casinos flashed around the Starlight.

As if something had startled her, she sat upright out of her catlike position and looked directly toward me.
Impossible
. She couldn’t see me. I was cloaked in invisibility. Frozen with uncertainty, I waited for her eyes to continue drifting. What seemed like an eternity passed before Helen resumed her feline pose on the sofa. That was the only cue I needed. I decided it was time for me to leave the Starlight penthouse and follow Holden.

Once I was out of the front door, I searched the hallway for Holden. Surely, he had taken the elevator to the lobby, so I ran to the elevator entrance. I saw the numbers running across the top of the elevator’s frame. Ugh! It was only on the second floor. I scanned the hall and noticed the stairs were at the end of the corridor. I decided to fly down the long stairwell in order to catch up with him. It would be quicker and I didn’t know how much time I had before he was out of sight.

On the other side of the stairwell door, I pulled my arms in across my chest, hopped from the railing, and spun into a quick descent. An invisible cyclone whirled around me, while each floor whisked past my head as I plunged to the first level of the stairwell. I steadied my landing as the floor whirled into view. I touched my toes softly on the concrete passage. I tipped my head up to see how far I had jumped, grateful I didn’t have a fear of heights.

I pushed the stairwell door open enough to squeeze through and exit into the lobby. I recognized the bellmen trio.

“Man, did you see Mr. Chadsworth run out the front door? I’ve never seen him so mad.” One of the bellmen poked another near the front desk.

“Oh yeah, I heard he was off to see you-know-who.” He gave a double wink to his buddy, who was loading suitcases on the buckling valet cart.

Great, Holden had been through here a second ago and was headed to see Simone. But where was she? I barely knew my way around the Starlight, let alone 1968 Vegas. I had no idea where she lived.

Then I saw the office sign on the other side of the reception desk. From what I had gathered, Holden was probably the owner of the Starlight and more than likely had an office for his regular business transactions and for running the casino.

I dashed across the lobby and followed the arrows pointing toward the office. There was a row of individual office doors and a waiting area with a reception desk complete with typewriter and phone. Behind the desk on the wall,
Holden Chadsworth
was written on a gold nameplate.

The casino, restaurants, bars, and hotel were now in full nighttime swing, and the little office was devoid of worker bees. I tried the handle. It was locked.

“Open.” I pointed my witchy finger and turned the handle.

Inside was a meticulous office. Leather chairs anchored by a full-size bar and bookcase were positioned under a sprawling painting of Las Vegas. I stared at the canvas for a minute before remembering my mission in Holden’s office—find Simone’s address.

Holden’s desk was a massive mahogany structure. I could see what little bits of his personality I knew seeping through the objects in this room.

I tried the top drawer, locked. I tried the side drawers, locked and locked. Again, using my
Open Spell
I pointed at all of the drawers. Where would an organized man keep his mistresses contact information? There was a leather-bound calendar littered with birthdays and business lunch meeting scribbles, a contract for The Temptations’ upcoming concert series, and a letter to Elvis for an inquiry to have him play at the Starlight. I rummaged through a few more folders and pulled out a thick file marked
VonRue Diamonds
.

I was curious. I had seen the marquee for the diamond tour advertised in the lobby and I had never heard of them. How could I have missed knowing about the largest diamond collection in the world—a girl who loves sparkly things above all knows the best jewelry collections.

My last trip to England prompted more than one return trip to see the crown jewels, and I couldn’t stop staring at the French Duchess Collection at the Louvre in Paris. I flipped open the folder for a peek, and I caught my breath when I read what was on the first page.

VonRue Diamond Collection

3000 diamond collection

Total Value: $500,000,000

Owner: Helen VonRue Chadsworth

Collateral: Starlight Resort and Casino

Signed: Holden W. Chadsworth

What was going on? Helen owned the VonRue collection, and Holden had put the diamonds up for collateral for the Starlight? There was no way the Starlight was worth half a billion dollars in 1968. This was getting much more involved than I had realized. I pulled my phone from my pocket and took a quick snapshot of the contract. I needed to absorb this information and figure out how the puzzle pieces fit together, but first I needed to find Simone.

My witchy senses were tingling on overload as I carefully placed the file back as I had found it. Finally, in the last drawer on the left, I found a small, green book labeled
Addresses
. I started with A, not knowing Simone’s last name and still hoping the man was brazen enough to list his mistress in his personal book. The third name under D,
Simone Davis, 2122 Vegas Blvd., The Diamond Towers, Suite 710.
Scribbled below her address in what I guessed to be Holden’s writing were the notes:
red roses, emeralds, size 4, chocolates
. Well, he was a cheating man, but at least he was an observant, considerate cheating man.

I took another picture in case I needed to reference the numbers again, slid the address book back into its snug spot, and left the office.

I didn’t know where the Diamond Towers was located in the maze of casinos, but I took a gamble that, from the sky, I would probably be able to find it. Just in case, I brushed up behind an unsuspecting tourist in the lobby and peered over her Vegas map.

“Hon, hon, if we take the fifteen out tomorrow, we can make it to Hoover Dam before lunch.” The husband looked none too pleased at this suggestion from his wife, but I hurried out of the revolving front door in a free triangle wedge before I could hear how the wife resolved their travel squabble.

This time, instead of leaping into a downward spiral, I raced to the corner closest to the traffic-free zone, wrapped my arms tightly around my torso, and accelerated upward into the Vegas sky.

I remember the first time my parents took me out into the night sky to try my wings. At eight years old, I was having a hard time dealing with my skills and my parents’ weird quirks. I felt more different and alone than excited about having magical powers. Granted, at eight, I could barely light a match with my finger or whip up a puppy love potion, but the magic inside me was growing and I was resisting. That fall night was crisp and clear. My parents waited for the right occasion, when I could fly with little interference from the regular world.

“Honey, this is such a big moment for you,” my mother gushed repeatedly.

“She’s right, you know.” My dad nudged me to smile. “Not every little girl gets to fly. You’re something special, Ivy.”

I looked at both of them, arms crossed and resentful, because I wasn’t a “little girl,” I was a little witch. A little witch who had to keep secrets and spend time practicing magic and reading potions. And now, on a Saturday night in October, I was out after midnight in my backyard with my parents getting ready to fly over our neighborhood while my other friends lay soundly tucked in their warm beds. Humph!