Sin City Homicide

37

It was nearly midnight, and Stanton was lying on his side, staring out the windows at the strip. The rumbling of the volcano display started every so often, and the deep bass of the drums pounded in his head. He sat up, knowing sleep was impossible for the night, and fumbled in a few of the drawers on the dresser before finding a packet of Advil liquid gels. He took two with a few swigs of orange juice and dressed before heading out the door.

The hallway was empty, and the colors swirled before him. The multitude of designs, shapes, and hues of reds, oranges, and blues disoriented him, and he stared at the floor as he made his way to the elevator. A man in a bathrobe stood in front of the vending machines, holding a full bucket of ice. He was swearing and pushing the machine.

“Excuse me,” he said, “you don’t have change for a twenty, do you? The machine ate my last dollar.”

“Let me check.” Stanton pulled out his wallet. He had three dollar bills, which he gave to the man.

“Well, just owe me the rest, I guess.”

“No, it’s fine,” Stanton said, refusing to take the twenty.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

Stanton went to the elevators and pushed the down button.

The man yelled, “Damn it!”

He looked over and saw that the man’s next choice, a Twix bar, was stuck.

“My luck this trip,” the man said. “Lost six grand at the tables and five bucks in this machine.” He tried rocking it back and forth then began pounding on the glass.

Stanton walked over. “Let me try.” He reached under the flap where the items were dispensed and quickly withdrew his hand, letting the flap snap shut. The Twix bar tipped. He did it again, and it fell.

“Hey, how’d you do that?”

“It’s a closed system, so the air created from that motion shoots up the machine and then back down.”

“Wow. I’ll have to remember that. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Stanton went toward the elevators again.

“Wait a second. What’s your name?”

“Jon.”

“Jon, I’m Jason. Nice to meet you.”

“You, as well.”

“Hey, what’re you doing tonight?”

“I was… well, nothing really.”

“Why don’t you come back to my room? I got a suite, biggest one on the floor.”

“It’s all right, thank you.”

“Now, don’t be hasty. This isn’t an invitation I make that often. But I got my wife back there, and I think it’d be a blast if you fucked her. I’ve been hitting it all night, but she just can’t get enough. Why don’t you come join us? She just got her fake tits, and she’s looking pretty smoking.”

Stanton didn’t respond. The elevator dinged and opened, and he stepped on.

As the doors closed, the man said, “Your loss.”

He leaned back against the mirrors lining the elevator and closed his eyes. One of the passages in Genesis had always resonated with him, even as a child:

Then the Lord rained down upon Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of Heaven. And he overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground.

The last phrase was what had stuck with him. As a child, he’d imagined God sitting on a cloud, overcome with anger at the evil he saw in these cities, casting down fire and brimstone and causing earthquakes and floods. Filled with so much rage that his creation would disobey him, he destroyed everything that lived, even the grass and the trees. It had filled Stanton with terror. As he grew older, he no longer feared that image. Instead, he feared what had occurred in Sodom and Gomorrah. Good men, he knew, were only one decision away from becoming evil men. And no one was immune to the darkness.

The elevator came to a stop at the lobby, and he stepped out and went to the casino floor, which was crowded with drunken gamblers. Some were in evening wear, rolling dice, and others were chain-smoking at the three-card poker tables. The slot machines rang and rang, drowning out the sound of the Doors’ “L.A. Woman” that was playing over the speakers. Cocktail waitresses were moving at a feverish pace, getting as many drinks as possible into the crowd. They were rewarded with dollar chips.

Stanton left and walked the strip for what seemed like a long time. He came to the Havana and stood outside, staring up at the lights shooting into space. He made his way inside and went to the casino. It looked no different than the one he was just in.

Stanton walked around the edge of the floor, one hand in his pocket and the other running lightly along the smooth walls. The display of shining steel running along the ceiling in that area was made to look like a river flowing upside down. Stanton stopped and watched it for a long time before moving on. He eventually made his way to a lounge that had funky furniture from the ’60s. The Beatles’ “Revolution” was playing. The area was as crowded as the rest of the casino, and small groups of people were relaxing and enjoying fruity cocktails as they flirted and laughed. Stanton noticed a tall figure leaning against the wall, slowly sucking on a cigarette. He was about to walk past him when he heard one of the pit bosses walk by and say, “Evening, Mr. James.”

Stanton stopped. He was sufficiently far away, and there were enough people around that Stanton thought Bill James wouldn’t notice him. He watched the other man. His simple movements were elegant. The way he lifted his arm and placed the cigarette between his lips, the softness of his exhalations as the smoke left his nostrils, and the way he crossed one foot over the other gave Stanton the impression of a 1930s leading man. He seemed to be from a different generation, one that was nearly gone.

Stanton walked over to him. James saw him, smiled, and nodded hello before turning away. Then he turned back around, recognition lighting his face.

“I’ve seen you before,” James said. “I think you saw me in one of my weaker moments.”

“You mean when you assaulted an elderly man without provocation?”

“It wasn’t without provocation. Me and him go back a long time. Long time. I love the man. But you know someone that long, they’ll eventually give you a reason to hit them.”

“If you really loved him, you wouldn’t have done it, even with a reason. That’s what love is.”

James laughed. “What are you, a Boy Scout?”

“My father once struck me when I was five. He was a pacifist, a hippie from the ’60s. Didn’t believe in violence at all. But I did something that just threw him, and he snapped. He punched me so hard, it knocked out one of my teeth. He never forgot it. He’d come into my room at night sometimes and just hold me and cry ’cause he knew I’d never forget it either.”

“Did you forgive him?”

“Yeah, but I never forgot it.”

James stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray bolted to the wall next to him. “My old man was a one-night stand. He’d come back from the war, fighting the Germans in France, and my mother got drunk with him at some bar. She told me once that she went to him and told him about me. He laughed and kicked her down the stairs.” James chuckled. “You know what, Boy Scout? I haven’t told that story out loud in thirty years. But I just told you. Now why do you suppose that is?”

“Sometimes it’s easier to talk to strangers.”

“Suppose so.” He pulled another cigarette from a gold carrying case in his pocket. “So, what’s your game?”

“I don’t gamble, actually.”

“Really? Here for the shows, then?”

“No. I’m a detective with the San Diego Police Department. I’m out here at your request.”

James’s demeanor instantly changed. He went rigid, frozen in place, before he replaced the cigarette and put the case back in his pocket.

“We were never supposed to meet,” he said.

“I’ve been asked to leave in a few days. I don’t think it matters.”

“I haven’t seen any news of catching the person who killed Daniel, so I can only guess you’ve failed.”

“I guess I have, but I’m not finished yet.”

“You gonna solve this thing in a few days?”

“No, but I’m not leaving. I said I was asked to leave. Your funding runs out, but I think I’m going to be sticking around awhile.”

“What the fuck do you care about Daniel Steed?”

“It wasn’t just him. A cop’s been killed now, too. A man who was kind to me when a lot of other people weren’t.”

“Yeah.” He glanced away at the casino floor. “Yeah, I read about that. It was a shame.” He took a deep breath. “I got some business to look after. You’ll have to excuse me, Detective.” As he walked away, he said, “Come back and visit us anytime. We never sleep.”