Vegas Moon

15.

I don’t see Gwen again till 8:15 p.m., when she enters the kitchen, dressed to kill.

“Wow!”

“The one word a woman loves to hear when she dresses up,” she says.

“Again, then. Wow!” And I meant it.

“Zip me up in the back?” she says sweetly, turning away from me.

She’s wearing a simple black sweater with the sleeves rolled up to just above the elbows, tucked into a black, pleated skirt, and fire-engine red boots with black heels that have rhinestone strips attached over the toe, and above the upper ankle. The boots stop mid-calf, leaving plenty of leg showing. I move behind her and pull the material toward me enough to peek down her back.

“You cad!” she says.

“That word is way too old for you,” I say.

“Nevertheless, it applies.”

“How so?”

“Come on, Donovan. We both know you were checking to see if I had panties on.”

“Guilty. Sorry.”

“That’s all right. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t want to see.”

“Why?”

“It’s a girl thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand enough to know it isn’t easy matching panties to those boots.”

She spins around and finds herself quite close to me.

“You’ll have to back away quickly,” Gwen says, “or I’ll wind up smearing my lipstick.”

I take a couple of steps back, reluctantly. I don’t know what it is about this young woman that’s getting to me. Yes, she’s beautiful. Enticing. But there’s more. She’s incredibly sensual, in a bad girl sort of way. Not “hooker sensual,” or “prison bad.” More like: college girl-who’s-fucking-her-dad’s-business-partner bad. She heads to the fridge to get one last beer before we leave for the airport.

“Want one?”

“Nope.”

“Don’t drink much, do you.”

“I’m a bourbon guy.”

“You should’ve said. Would you like one now?”

“Maybe later.”

Gwen twists the top off and takes a long swallow. When she looks back at me, I ask, “How well did you know Phyllis?”

“Phyllis the Willis?” She shrugs. “Phyllis did some work on me. Boobs, chemical peel, laser hair removal. Mostly I spent time at the spa. I mean, we spoke, but she didn’t like me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Because?”

“I think it’s because she was fucking Lucky.”

“You think?”

“I don’t know for sure. But it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Why not?”

“She seriously didn’t like me. Always made me feel uncomfortable. I hate to say it, but I’m glad she’s dead.”

“Because she didn’t like you?”

“Because they were always together. She was on the board of that company, Ropic Industries, and Lucky’s the major stockholder.”

“Is the stock doing well?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

I suddenly hear something, and jump to the side of the kitchen door.

“What?” Gwen says.

“Someone’s coming in the back. Duck behind the counter!”

I crouch, ready to strike.

“Relax, killer. It’s Tina.”

Turns out it is Tina, the housekeeper, returning from wherever she’d been all afternoon. Gwen introduces us and tells her which bedroom I’ll be camping in tonight. Tina immediately grabs some sheets from the laundry room and heads toward the bedroom that’s situated between Gwen’s bedroom and the kitchen.

Gwen says, “Lucky’s such a jerk.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tina’s usually gone by five. But her daughter had an operation today, so naturally she wanted to be at the hospital with her. Lucky said fine, but she’d have to work late to make up for it.”

“Wow.”

“Great guy, right?”

While Gwen had been napping and showering, I searched every room on this side of the house, trying to find the device. And came up with nothing. While she was getting dressed, I called Lou Kelly, who told me that Lucky’s twenty million dollar investment in Ropic Industries was practically worthless. According to the terms of his stockholder purchase petition, he can’t sell his shares for several months. By then, the company will be bankrupt. This, according to one of Lou’s SEC buddies who said they’re about to publicly announce a full-scale investigation of Ropic’s accounting practices.

I don’t care about Lucky’s financial problems, I just want the device. After talking to Lou, I walked through the rooms one last time, to see if I’d overlooked something obvious.

I hadn’t.

If a professional had hidden the device, I’d need a week to conduct a proper search. But Gwen’s a civilian, and I’d bet serious coin she hasn’t hidden it in the rooms I’ve searched. Which leaves Lucky’s office, their bedroom, bath, and closet.

“I should check out your bedroom,” I say. “For security reasons.”

“You’ll have to wait till Lucky gets home.”

“Why?”

“His command center adjoins it.”

“Command center?”

“It’s where he makes the magic. No one’s allowed in there.”

“Not even you?” I say.

“Not even.”