Sin City Homicide

13

Stanton walked into police headquarters with Mindi, and she told him to follow her. They walked down a long hallway with photographs of various sheriffs and lieutenants on the wall. Toward the end was a photo of the president and one of the attorney general. They passed a janitor’s closet, and Mindi opened a door and walked inside. He followed her into a makeshift office that held a desk, a chair, a computer, and a couple of filing cabinets. The supply closet had clearly been a large one, and it still stank of chemicals and cleaning products.

“It’s not much,” she said, “but it’s yours. Orson said you would want something private, and this is as private as it gets.”

“It’ll be fine. Thanks.”

“So, when do you want to go get Freddy?”

“I need to speak to a tech expert first.”

“What kind?”

“Imagery, DVD specifically. Do you have one on site?”

“No, we contract with a lab. Do you want to go out there?”

“Actually”-he pulled the blank disc out of the file-“can you head there and give them this?”

“What is it?”

“It’s a disc I found in the Steeds’ home. I think it may have had something on it that’s been erased. Have them see if they can bring it up.”

“All right, no prob. What are you going to do?”

“I need to speak with Orson for a bit. Let me know what the lab says.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Stanton waited for her to leave then sat down. The carpet was stained so deeply that he thought dark brown was its natural color, until he noticed splotches where it was clean beige. He took out his cell phone and dialed his ex-wife. His oldest, Matt, should’ve just finished a tennis lesson, and he wanted to ask him how it had gone. The call went straight to voicemail. He took a deep breath and rose to find Orson.

Although the headquarters served as a fully functioning precinct, equipped with holding cells and SWAT lockers, it still had the air of an administrative headquarters. He saw more office workers than field uniforms, and it gave him an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. He had never felt at ease with the top brass. His only experiences with them had revealed pettiness and bureaucracy at best and corruption at worst. He felt much more at home with the frontline cops.

Stanton hurried to Orson’s office. Orson, who was on the phone at his desk, looked surprised to see him.

“I’ll have to call you back.” Orson hung up the phone and put his hands behind his head in a relaxed posture. “What’s up, Jon?”

“Just wondering if you had a minute.”

“For you? Anytime.”

Stanton shut the door and sat down. “Why am I here, Orson? I know the stats. Crimes like this happen here every day. Even with their contribution money, the Steeds’ murder couldn’t be the top priority of the whole department.”

“You don’t think the rape and murder of two prominent citizens should be our top priority?”

“I didn’t say it shouldn’t be. I said it couldn’t be. Unless everything I know about how bureaucracies work is wrong, you’d want to underplay your hand on this and hope it goes away until it’s solved. Bringing me in here’s bound to get some press. You knew that.”

“Yeah, I did.” He exhaled loudly and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “There’s no other city like Las Vegas in the world, Jon. Not since ancient Rome has there been a place like ours. It’s set up to cater to vice and nothing else. Nothing. So, the people who provide that vice are the true governors. Hell, our mayor’s a mob lawyer. That’s our essence.”

“You need to be straight with me.”

“I know, I know. The thing is: the mayor, the sheriff, the city council-we don’t run this place. We know who we really work for, and that’s the casinos.” He pointed to a photo on his wall of him shaking hands with a man in a tuxedo. “You see that guy? That’s Bill James. He owns more of this city now than Wynn, Trump, or any of those others. He also happens to be the prime suspect in this case.”

“There was nothing in the file about him.”

“No, there wouldn’t be. He hasn’t been officially mentioned, but everyone kind of knows. They were suing each other, or more specifically, Daniel Steed was suing him. And not just a few million here, a few million there. The lawsuit was for billions. It would’ve bankrupted Bill James.”

“Has he been questioned?”

“You kiddin’ me? The county attorneys would have my ass. He’s donated more to campaigns in this county than every other organization and individual combined. He knows how to grease the wheels.”

“So, you brought me in here to find evidence against him?”

“No, we didn’t. The opposite, actually. Bill James brought you in. He came to me and asked who the best investigator I’ve ever met was. I told him you were. He said to spare no expense and get you here. He knows everybody thinks he did this. He says he wants his name cleared by finding the actual perp.”

“You believe him?”

“I don’t know. He comes from a different time, back when casino owners solved their problems with holes in the desert. And that would just be for stealing a few thousand bucks in chips or cheating at craps. I can’t imagine how far he would go to protect his entire fortune.”

“You think I could talk to him?”

“Absolutely not. He wants no involvement in this. We’re serious about that, Jon. Papers get ahold of that, and they’ll start painting him as the prime suspect. He’s footing the bill for you. You speak with him, and we’ll have to have you on the next plane out of here. I really don’t want that. I don’t want any of this. I just want to find the sick fuck that did this and forget about this damned case.”

Stanton rose. “I appreciate you being honest with me, Orson.”

“Jon,” he said as Stanton turned to leave, “never forget who the real bosses are here. As long as you do that, you won’t step on any toes. That’s how I get by.”

“I’ll see you later.” Stanton shut the door behind him, walked back down the hall, and waited for the elevator. The man who had been yelling was now huddled over the desk, the receiver glued to his ear, weeping softly and apologizing. The elevator dinged, and Stanton stepped on.