Frank nodded, but I could practically see the wheels turning in his mind.
“So, did she hit some party last night?” I asked, still pretending like I had no idea where Saline was.
“Don’t know,” Frank said. “She cut out on me a few days ago, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”
I feigned surprise. “Hold on—she cut out on you? As in, you two broke up?”
Frank stood and put his hands on his hips. “I don’t know. Like you said, Saline doesn’t share a lot about what’s going on with her, not even with me. It’s what attracted me to her in the first place. Well, besides that rockin’ bod of hers. She didn’t come with a lot of baggage. She never talked about her past, and I always knew where I stood with her, except that last Saturday she just disappeared. She wouldn’t return my phone calls, and I came up here looking for her and found some of her stuff was gone. She took a Louis Vuitton suitcase I gave her last Christmas, along with some of her clothes, but there was no trace of where she’d gone, or why.”
“Well,” I said, pretending to look confused, “I haven’t heard from her, and she didn’t return the voice mail I left her last night either.”
Frank shook his head and walked back and forth in front of the bed. “I always knew that girl carried something crazy inside of her.” Tapping his head, he said, “And I knew I shouldn’t have gotten mixed up with her, but she’s like this drug, you know? Once you get to know her, you’re hooked.”
I nodded like I fully understood. “Was she acting weird before she left?” I asked, hoping there was a clue that would explain how Candice had met Saline.
Frank pocketed his gun and sat down in the chair, putting his fingertips together in a steeple under his chin. “She was acting weird,” he said. “I thought maybe it was ’cause I was pushing her to set a date for the wedding, but a few weeks ago she disappeared on me like this for a few days, and when she came back, she wouldn’t tell me where she’d gone or what she’d done.”
“Weird,” I said. “She never mentioned anything like that to me. Of course, I was kind of full of my own drama when we talked.”
“I had her followed,” Frank suddenly confessed, and I held very still, hoping he had something interesting to share. “My associate said she met a girlfriend for lunch across the street, and I told her I knew about it. I couldn’t believe she’d betray me like that. We had a big fight. The next day she was gone.”
I cocked my head. “Betray you like what? Having lunch with a girlfriend is a betrayal?”
Frank shook his head. “No. It’s where she had lunch. She met the other girl at Lucky Lou’s.”
My radar pinged like a pinball machine. “What’s wrong with having lunch at Lucky Lou’s?”
Frank’s eyes narrowed and he pointed in the direction of the other casino across the street. “That scum-sucking son of a bitch is my archenemy.”
“Whoa,” I said, trying to hold in a laugh. “Your archenemy?”
“Don’t joke,” Frank warned in a way that made me really regret making light of it.
“Okay, okay,” I told him. “Sorry. So Saline ate at Lou’s with a girlfriend. Maybe the friend wanted to eat there and talked her into it.”
“Saline knows how I feel about Lou’s. She shouldn’t have set foot in that place, no matter who asked her to.”
My radar practically pulsed with energy. I needed to know a little more about the incident that inspired the fight. “Who was the friend that Saline went to meet?”
“Don’t know,” Frank said. “But I’ve been trying to find her, because I’ll bet she knows where Saline is.”
“Maybe I can help,” I suggested. “I used to live here and Saline and I floated in some of the same circles. Maybe I can tell you who this friend is if you tell me what she looked like.”
Frank pulled out his phone and tapped at it a few times; then he came over to the bed and sat down next to me to show me the image on the phone. “My associate took a few pictures,” he said. “This was them having lunch.”
I squinted at the scene and had to work very hard at not visibly reacting to the image. Candice and a lovely-looking girl with long dark hair sat together at a table, leaning in toward each other as if they were deep in conversation. I stared first at Candice to confirm it was her, and then the profile view of Saline, who wasn’t blond in the photo, so obviously at some point after this photo was taken she’d had her hair done and styled to look like Candice’s. But why?
“Recognize her?” Frank asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
“No. Sorry.”
Frank sighed and tucked his phone away. “Yeah, okay,” he said. Then he got up again and moved to my purse. Fishing through it, he took out the key I’d taken from under Saline’s mat, and pocketed it, then moved toward the door. “You can stay here till morning, but then you gotta go. I don’t care if Saline invited you here or not. I don’t want anybody in her place with her gone.”
“Got it,” I said.
Frank left and I held my breath until I heard the front door click shut. Then I shot up off the bed to retrieve my purse, thanking God that I’d made it out of that encounter in one piece. Gathering up my luggage, I hustled to the door. No way was I staying here one more second now that I knew Frank could get in.
I made my way down to the second floor and retraced my steps out to the car. When I started the engine, the clock on the dash read two a.m. Now that the adrenaline of my encounter with Big G was over, fatigue was settling in again. I sat in the car weighing my options. My head lifted and the neon lights from Lucky Lou’s seemed to beckon. Whatever was going on, I knew that many of the answers could likely be found there. Still, it was a risky endeavor because I didn’t know where Candice was. If she was hanging out across the street, and she saw me, well, who knew what would happen next? Then again, the opportunity to draw her out felt a little too tempting to ignore. Putting the car into reverse, I backed out and aimed toward Lucky Lou’s.
* * *
Six hours later I woke up in a room overlooking the parking lot. I’d slept well, knowing that by throwing the latch at the top of the door I was at least fairly safe from waking to a stranger in the room, but the second my eyes opened, I felt beyond famished. I hadn’t eaten since the previous morning at the airport, and I’d been skipping more than my fair share of meals lately.
I changed quickly into jeans and a light sweater, then headed downstairs to find a place to eat.
Lou’s was very much like Big G’s, with a main floor dedicated to electronic gaming machines, and a second-floor hotel lobby.
By studying a map in the hotel lobby, I also discovered that Lucky Lou’s had three restaurants: a diner called Louissa’s, a sports bar called Lucky Lou’s Tavern, and a fine-dining eatery called Mabel’s on the Green. I figured Robinowitz must’ve met Kato at the Tavern, but I wasn’t quite sure which restaurant Candice and Saline had eaten in.
Making my way to Louissa’s, I was shown to a little two-top and ordered a plate of eggs Benedict—a favorite of mine. The meal came promptly and I dug in, eating with gusto. I may have been so involved in my meal that I didn’t realize I was being watched until a large man sat down across from me. The second he sat down, I froze, midchew. For several moments no one said a word. “Abigail Cooper?” he asked.
An intuitive whisper entered my mind. Ruh-roh.
I set my fork down, picked up my napkin, finished chewing, and cleared my throat. “Who wants to know?” I asked, finally looking up to take him in.
He was a big guy, built to be genetically intimidating with lots of mass around the shoulders and torso, and a neck as thick as a sequoia. His eyes were small and squinty, but his other features were lost in a doughy face and rounded jawline. “I’m Arlo Valente,” he said casually, twisting the saltshaker like a top. “My employer would like to have a word with you.”
I wave
d casually to my half-eaten meal. “I’m a little busy at the present. Maybe another day.”
Arlo smiled in that way that suggested he thought I was cute, about the same way a cat might be amused by a cornered mouse right before you have to avert your eyes. “It looks like you’re almost done,” he said. “And my employer doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
My eyes darted to the right and left. Would anybody here help me if I started screaming? “Don’t,” Arlo warned, and I knew he’d shut me down quickly if I tried to make a scene.
I had an inkling about who Arlo’s boss was, and I was quite certain that even if I was wrong, whomever he worked for wasn’t anybody I was chomping at the bit to meet. At that exact moment, my cell phone rang and almost reflexively, I picked it up and answered it. “Hi, honey!” I said, while holding up a “one sec” finger to Arlo. He eyed me like the Grumpy Cat. He wasn’t amused.
“Hey, doll,” Dutch said. “I hadn’t heard from you, so I wanted to make sure your plane got in okay.”
I slapped my forehead. “Oh, crap, Dutch, I’m so sorry! I forgot to text you when I landed. Yes, the plane got in safe and sound.”
“Having fun with your sister?”
“I am!” I said, all smiles and good cheer, while Arlo grumped harder at me. “You know Cat. Always fun when we get together.”
“How’re the boys?” Dutch asked next.
“Oh, they’re great! Growing like weeds and so smart!”
“And Tim?” my hubby asked of my brother-in-law.
“He’s ducky, babe. But he wants to know when you’ll come out to visit and take in a round of golf now that spring’s here.”
“How about now?” my sweet husband asked as Arlo made a sign with his hand that I should wrap it up.
“Now what?”
“How about I catch a plane tonight and hang out with you guys for a couple of days?”
“Uh . . . er . . . ,” I said, trying to think fast. “You know, this week would have been great, but Tim’s got a thing and he won’t be in town.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Dutch said, and I was almost able to breathe a sigh of relief until he added, “Hey, Abs?”
“Yeah?”
“How come your phone is pinging off a cell tower located in the Greater Las Vegas area right now?”
Aw, shih tzu. I’d underestimated the suspicious nature of my husband, who had at his disposal all the investigative tools of the FBI at his fingertips. I decided to stick to the story, no matter how insane that strategy was. “What? That’s crazy! I’m sitting with Cat right now, honey. In Boston. Seriously. There must be something wrong with your equipment.”
“Really?” Dutch said. “That’s weird. Because I just called your sister and after telling me she didn’t know where you were, she then abruptly changed her story and said that she’d just dropped you at the hair salon.”
I forced a laugh. “Oh, that Cat! Such a prankster. Listen, I’d love to chat longer, but the stylist is ready for me now, so I gotta go.”
“Abby,” Dutch growled. “Don’t you dare hang up on me before telling me where the hell you are.”
I knew I was caught and with a heavy sigh I did the only thing I could given the circumstances; I hung up. “That was my husband,” I said to Arlo. “He works for the FBI and he knows where I am.”
Arlo arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, you’re in Boston. With a cat.”
“Oh, please. I’ve been with him for four years now. He knows better than to trust me. He was actually calling to tell me that he knows I’m in Vegas, at this very hotel. So if you’re thinking of doing anything to me, you’ll have the FBI on your heels faster than you can say Lucky Lou’s.”
Arlo sat there and stared hard at me. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but it was clear he wasn’t in the mood for my games. “Come on,” he said, standing up and moving close to my chair to grab my arm and “help” me up.
“Hey!” I protested. “What about my breakfast?”
Arlo squeezed my arm tighter and pulled me in close to him. “I would calm down if I were you,” he said icily, before pulling out some cash and casually tossing it on the table to cover the tab.
I shut up quick. Well, mostly I shut up. There may have been a small squeak that leaked out, but can you blame me?
My escort continued to hold tight to me as we exited the diner and made our way over to the elevators. We moved to the double doors on the far left, and I saw that there was a keyhole built into the wall. Arlo inserted a key from his pocket, turned the lock, and the doors opened. We went in, and when another couple began to come in behind us, my captor gave them a look that stopped them in their tracks. “This is a private elevator,” he snapped, before pressing a button and shutting the doors in their faces.
The second I was alone with him, I started in. “I don’t appreciate being manhandled!” I snapped, yanking my arm out of his grasp. “And what the hell is going on, anyway?”
Arlo ignored me and kept his focus on the digital display above the doors, which showed our steady progress upward.
“Who is this boss of yours, anyway?” I tried.
Arlo blinked dully and continued to stare at the digital readout.
“Hey!” I yelled. “This is kidnapping, you know!”
Arlo’s eyes narrowed and he cut me a look. “You should know all about kidnapping,” he said. “You and your partner sure pulled that off good.”
I blinked at him. “Me and my partner sure . . . ? What the hell are you even talking about?” (Swearing doesn’t count when you’re being kidnapped by a big goon.)
Just then the elevator pinged and the double doors opened. Arlo abruptly gripped my elbow again and led me into a very large open room with enough white marble and gold leaf to make the gods of Olympus envious.
I attempted to pull out of his grasp, but this time he held tight, and tugged me along with him across the room to a section that was partially screened by bookcases.
As we rounded the corner, I found myself staring at an elegantly dressed man I’d put in his early-to-mid seventies, with a well-trimmed mustache, sleek silver hair, and eyes that assessed me the moment I came into view. “Is this the girl?” he said to the big man pulling me. I detected a slight British accent, which made him even more mysterious.
“Yes, sir,” Arlo answered, then nodded with his chin toward another figure standing near the floor-to-ceiling window, whom I only just noticed. “Thanks, Michelle.”
The woman he’d indicated was tall and thin, with short, spiky jet-black hair and horn-rimmed glasses that dominated her otherwise delicate features. “She was easy to spot,” Michelle said with a shrug.
The bossman indicated a seat across from him. “Sit,” he said, as if I were a disobedient dog.
“Think I’ll stand,” I said.
Arlo wasn’t having any of my insolence. He pushed me rather indelicately forward, then clamped his meaty hand on my shoulder to basically shove me into the chair. “Okay,” I said as my bum hit the seat. “Here’s also good.”
Arlo kept that hand on my shoulder, his fingers digging into me a little. I eyed him angrily. “You’ll get more out of me if you’re nice,” I told him. He squeezed harder.
I turned my head to the bossman and smiled casually before slapping my hand up to cover Arlo’s; then, quick as I could, I gripped his pinkie and pulled up as hard as I could. Arlo growled low in his throat and let go of my shoulder, but then he wound his hand back ready to hit me.
“Arlo!” the bossman barked. His goon’s hand remained high, while he looked to his employer. “That will do,” the bossman said. Arlo slowly lowered his hand and moved to stand just a pace or two behind me. I rolled my eyes and focused on the big kahuna who’d ordered this little get-together.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” I said, crossing my legs like I was a proper young lass.
“No,” he said, eyeing me critically. He didn’t seem impressed.
“I’m assuming you’re Salazar Kato,” I said, just to move things along.
“I am,” he said. “And you are Abigail Cooper. Self-proclaimed psychic and business partner to Candice Fusco.”
I didn’t much care for that “self-proclaimed” bit, but I held my tongue. “Is she here?” I asked him.
Kato’s brow furrowed, as did Michelle’s. I wondered if Arlo’s brow mirrored theirs. “Is who here?” Kato asked me, his words distinctly pronounced as if he wanted to make a point of turning the question back on me.
“Candice,” I said, and I could feel a bit of anger rise as I said her name to the man who’d hired her to kill Robinowitz and maybe even Lenny Fusco.
Kato reacted unexpectedly. He stood up abruptly and his face flushed with fury. “You think to joke with me?!” he shouted.
My jaw dropped and I pushed back into the chair. “Joke?” I said when I found my vocal cords. “Nothing about this is a joke, Mr. Kato!” And then my eyes misted and I couldn’t control the quiver to my lip. A bubble of emotion rose up from my chest and I felt powerless against it. “You think finding out my best friend is a hired hit man for you is something I want to joke about? Do you know how many lives you’ve ruined? I love Candice like she’s my own sister, okay? Until a week ago, I thought she was the best person I’ve ever known! She’s saved my life countless times! Countless! And because of you, she’s now a monster, and she’ll be lucky to avoid the death penalty!”
Salazar’s face lost its flush and he sat back down to stare at me curiously. I continued to dribble there in my seat, seething with anger of my own. Also, I was scared shitless because I’d just yelled at a mobster. (Swearing doesn’t count when you’re scared shitless.)
“Where is Saline?” Salazar asked me.
I wiped at my cheeks and tried to swallow a sob. “Who?” I asked, trying my best not to appear as if I knew the name.
“Saline,” Salazar repeated levelly.
I thought I should probably go with a bit of the truth here, because he seemed to know that I was lying. “She’s in the hospital in Austin,” I said to him. “She was pulled from Candice’s car when it went over a bridge two nights ago.”