Laina Turner - Presley Thurman 01 - Stilettos & Scoundrels Read online

  About an hour went by and I was getting antsy with the need to pee. I wondered how long it took to eat Chinese food. This didn’t seem like a place where people normally lingered over the food. They should have come out thirty minutes ago. I was just about to get out of my car and run back in to the knock-off coffee shop to use the restroom when Bobby finally came out. The Mob Dude, as I had already named him, walked out behind Bobby, went over to an expensive-looking black Lincoln, got in, and drove away. He actually drives himself, impressive. I thought he would have a driver. It showed he was a down-to-earth guy. Probably important for a criminal to show he was equal to the common folk, even if it was just for show. I wondered if it was the same car I had seen Simon leaning into at the grocery store. This was Alkon. Surely there weren’t that many Lincolns on the streets. I waited until Mob Dude pulled out of the parking lot to jump out of my car and corner Bobby. He was just getting ready to pull out too as I jumped in front of his truck to stop him. He hit the brakes and rolled down his window to yell at me.

  “What the hell are you doing, Presley? I almost hit you.” I ran around and jumped in the passenger side. I wasn’t taking any chances; Bobby might try to take off without talking to me.

  “Excuse me! Why are you getting in my car? Hey! Stop it!” Bobby yelled, referring to me sweeping a bunch of junk off the front seat of his dirty upholstery.

  “Why? Are you afraid your car might fall apart if I clean it off?” If I wasn’t mistaken, this was the same car he had in high school. It was pretty sad to me that he was still driving the same Chevy S-10 he bought as an eighteen year-old. What had once been a halfway cool truck was now riddled with rust holes and so much grey primer covering holes he had tried to fix, that I could hardly tell that the truck had once been blue. “Bobby, this is kind of gross.” The interior had stains of god-knows-what all over.

  “Get out, Presley. I have to be somewhere. What’s gotten into you?” Bobby exclaimed.

  “We need to talk, Bobby. And I am not getting out of this truck until you tell me what I want to know.”

  “About what?” he replied, with a bit of an attitude. I couldn’t blame him. I had a feeling I had just caught him doing something he didn’t want people to know about and I knew I was one of the last people he wanted to know about his problems. I hated to break it to him, but it was too late for that. At least with Bobby, we had once been friends, so he wouldn’t go running to my mom—or me to his, for that matter. It was an unspoken code among children of all ages everywhere—or it should have been as far as I was concerned.

  “First of all, I want to know who that was you were just talking to.” I started ticking the items off on my fingers. “Secondly, how much do you owe due to your gambling problem and who to? Thirdly, what’s going on with you and Tobey? Is that enough for you?”

  “I don’t have a gambling problem, and if I did, what makes you think I would tell you anything?” Bobby sneered. “What business is this of yours?”

  “Cut the act, Bobby. Don’t forget I knew you back in the days when you thought armpit farts were funny. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’m going to tell your mother about the mystery guy you were with. I bet she wouldn’t appreciate hearing you were in debt again.”

  At that, he cringed. I hated playing the Mother card, and it had only been a guess, but I could add two and two with the best of them. Besides, misery loved company, and it felt good knowing someone else was still deathly afraid of their mother. “So, how much do you owe, Bobby?” I prompted him to get the ball rolling, so to speak.

  “A hundred and fifty thousand,” he said, dejected, not even trying to deny the gambling issue this time, resigned to the fact I wouldn’t give up that easily.

  Not quite as much as Tom Daniels, but then again, the Daniels’ have money, so comparatively, it was a lot more. Wow. Neither Bobby nor his family had much money; they were just a typical middle-class like my own. Six figures might as well be six million dollars, in my opinion. I was sure it was in Bobby’s too. No wonder he looked upset. “Is that guy you were meeting with the person you owe?”

  “Yes, that’s Garrison Palazzo. He’s highly connected in Vegas and is owner or part owner in many different businesses there. One of which is the Blue Royale Casino, which is where I played and lost. Lost big. I was so stupid,” Bobby said, putting his head in his hands.

  “So, is that the same person the Senator owed?”

  “I don’t know who the Senator owed, or even if he did,” Bobby replied looking back up. If he knew about any connection, he hid it well. He seemed to be telling the truth, which disappointed me. Not the fact he was telling the truth, but the fact that he didn’t seem to have anything much to add to what I already knew. I knew it was a long shot, but I had been hoping he would be able to tell me something that would lead me to the killer.

  “Now, will you please get out of my car?” He leaned over her and tried to open the passenger door.

  I pushed his arm away. “No. What were you two discussing?”

  “Jeez, Presley. I already told you: my debt and how I can pay him back. I’ve been doing some odd jobs for him since I don’t have even close to that kind of money, and I can’t go to my parents for any more. I’ve hurt them enough as it is.”

  “What kind of odd jobs?” When I thought of odd jobs, I thought of helping someone around the house or running errands. Somehow, I didn’t think those were the type Bobby was doing for Mob Dude.

  “Just things,” Bobby hedged, obviously not wanting to tell me the truth, which I couldn’t blame him.

  “Like what? Mowing his lawn? Watering his plants?” I questioned sarcastically.

  “Presley, I really don’t want to talk about it. I got myself into this mess, and I’m doing what I can to get out of it. I need to start a new life, and I can’t until I get this resolved. And I sure as hell don’t need you bugging me. It’s not helping any. Why don’t you go back to Chicago?”

  I just stared at him because, of course, I thought that whatever he was doing had a big chance of being illegal, which, even for Bobby, was a stretch, but he must feel he didn’t have any options. He probably didn’t.

  Sensing what I was thinking, Bobby spoke up. “Don’t worry, Presley. I am not doing anything more wrong than the gambling in the first place. I want to get out of this mess, not make it worse. Now, please get out of my car.”

  Bobby seemed depressed and I couldn’t blame him. He was in so deep and it was going to take a lot to get out. Add to that what I imagined were his personal problems, and well, I’d be depressed too. Who wouldn’t? Speaking of his personal life, I almost hated to ask—almost. I tried not to let these things bother me, especially when I had a problem to solve. Even if his personal life was nothing to do with the murder, I wanted to know. It was good gossip and might come in handy. “I saw a car that looked like that Lincoln, as a matter of fact, looked exactly like that Lincoln, at the grocery store talking to Simon. Why?”

  “I don’t know, Pres. Got everything you wanted? Would you please get out of my car…now?”

  “You didn’t answer my last question, Bobby. What’s the deal with you and Tobey?”

  Bobby threw himself back against his seat, almost like he was having a temper tantrum. “Now what are you talking about?”

  “Bobby, don’t play dumb. I’ve heard the gossip, more than just gossip actually, and there’s nothing wrong with it. Plus, Tobey’s a great guy. I’m not judging you.”

  “Tobey and I are friends, Pres. That’s it. Don’t make something to be what it’s not.”

  The way Bobby looked at me I knew he wasn’t going to come out of the closet, so to speak. At least not now, even though it was obvious he was lying. I knew it and I was pretty sure he knew I knew, but why push it? I had terrorized him enough for one day.

  I opened the door to get out and paused, thinking of one more thing. “Bobby, do you think you could ask Garrison if he knew anything about the Senator owing people money?”

>   Bobby looked at me as if I was crazy. Actually, make that one step past crazy to insane. “Are you freaking kidding me? You want me to ask a Mob boss about other people that owe him money. Specifically, someone who’s now dead? Are you sure you don’t want me to just ask him if he murdered the Senator?”

  “If you could, that would be great.” I said, pretending to ignore the sarcasm.

  “Get out, Presley! Go ask him yourself! Wait. Forget I said that. Just leave me alone.”

  “Okay, okay. But don’t think you can hide this, Bobby. Dirt and Cooper are going to find the connection at some point.”

  “Do me a favor and don’t tell them.”

  Already halfway out the door, Bobby pretty much pushed me the rest of the way out. How rude he was being, I thought. When I walked back to my car, I spotted the sign on the knock-off coffee shop door that said “Internet access: 30 minutes per customer.” This gave me a thought. Never underestimate the power of Google; the world was really at my fingertips.

  Bobby watched Presley walk off and felt his anxiety mounting. He really needed a larger dose of Lexapro. How was she getting all this information? Why couldn’t she just go back home? She was going to open a big can of worms that didn’t need to be opened, if she wasn’t careful. He needed to make a phone call, and he was getting so paranoid that he didn’t want to use his cell. Between Garrison coming into town and his encounter with Presley, he was about to explode. He couldn’t handle this. How did he get here? God, he just wanted it to end.

  Chapter 12I sipped my large mocha latte, which wasn’t Starbucks, but wasn’t actually bad, and munched on the double chocolate brownie I wasn’t able to resist. I tried not to think about those five pounds standing in the way of my looking super hot in my Diesel jeans, as I sat down at the computer terminal and typed in “Garrison Palazzo.”

  It was amazing what one could find these days on the Internet. I almost regretted some of the crazy things I did when I was young because it could always come back to haunt me now. I hadn’t ever searched my name because I didn’t want to know what might come up.

  The search engine pulled up multiple hits. Many were from the Las Vegas Sun, which must be the local newspaper out there. Garrison Palazzo couldn’t be all bad, as there were several articles on how he had given money to different charities. Probably did the philanthropic stuff to cover up what he really did for a living. Wow, last year he gave one million dollars to a children’s hospital and they named a wing after him. He was either an up and up business man or really good at hiding his shady side by giving away huge sums of money, thinking it would help his cause. I kept scrolling down and to more of the same, all making him look like a good guy. Okay, this was getting boring. Wait a minute. I was scrolling quickly through the repetitive articles when one jumped out at me. “Back up, sister,” I muttered to myself. I knew I passed it, it was right here. For the love of Pete! Where did it go? I was getting annoyed when finally, I found it again. The headline read “Local Vegas patriarch honored by the Business Women of Vegas.” But it wasn’t the headline that grabbed me, although the idea of him being honored by a women’s group did seem out there, even for him. Rather, the picture next to the headline is what caught my attention. It showed a picture of Garrison and someone I presumed was the head of the Business Women in Vegas organization. That in itself was not a big deal, but the people in the background were what caught my eye. At a table behind the podium were Helen and Tom, which wasn’t a big surprise, but Cooper was with them. What the hell? Why didn’t Cooper ever mention he was in Vegas with Helen and the Senator? He told me he had only been working for the Senator for the past six months, and this luncheon took place over nine months ago. Why would Cooper lie? At this point, I was more curious than ticked off. Cooper would have no reason to lie, would he? I was also going to have to ask Helen how they knew Garrison Palazzo well enough to be at a luncheon for him. I guessed that put him firmly in the running as a suspect. He could have inside information that could be important. But then that shot my theory of Bobby and the Senator having that issue in common since I knew Bobby owed him, and he gambled at the same place the Senator did. You wouldn’t go to a luncheon for someone you owed money to and who was threatening you, would you? Unless that was part of the debt repayment plan. Though maybe it was to keep Senator Daniels on his toes, so he would know that people were watching his every move. It was strange that Helen didn’t say anything about it. If they had a relationship with Garrison Palazzo, couldn’t they go to him for help with this mess? Or if he was the one involved in this mess, why couldn’t Helen just say something? It sure would make this much easier.

  I went on to search for Helen and Tom Daniels, which pretty much brought up the same information. I found it odd that I couldn’t find anything on Simon Atkins, but maybe he was not very noteworthy, which could mean either he had no involvement or he was so involved that he was beyond the regular public eye.

  I wondered what I would get if I put in Cooper’s name. I was almost scared to do it, it seemed like such an invasion of privacy, but his lies made me curious. I entered his name, hit the search button, and then sat back to see what it would pull up. Once the hits popped up, I was shocked and almost wished I hadn’t done the search. As I read the lead article, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. This couldn’t have any truth to it. There was no way Cooper was involved in what the article said.

  The article, dated about two years ago, had a detailed an account of how Cooper and three other men were indicted on murder charges in Vegas. The article went on to say that Cooper and these men worked for Tony Spellmen, a reputed Mob figure in Vegas. Tony and another Vegas Mob figure had a falling out, ending with the other guy being murdered in his home. According to the person who wrote the article, the evidence against the men had been largely circumstantial and all charges were eventually dropped. However, there was still much speculation that the men had actually been involved, but were just adept at covering their tracks.

  Even though I was confident Cooper had nothing to do with murdering someone, I did wonder how he got caught up in the mess to begin with. He had a lot of explaining to do, and there was no way he was getting out of telling me this time.

  ******

  “Umm…thanks, Mother. This is really good.” I sat on the couch, drinking the iced raspberry tea my mother had just given me. It felt so good to relax and put my feet up.

  “It’s a recipe I got from Geanie. You brew the tea with crushed raspberries and then strain the raspberries out. They give it a nice flavor.” My mother sat on the couch next to me and I braced myself for the litany of questions that were sure to come. “So, please tell me what you are trying to accomplish with your nosing around. I don’t like Ruth calling me saying you are accosting her in the grocery store. Presley, that’s embarrassing.”

  “Mother, I didn’t accost her. I just happened to see her and wanted to ask a few more questions. Besides, I got Bobby’s number and that made Ruth happy. Although, if you believe the gossip, it doesn’t mean anything.”

  “What, the gossip that Bobby’s gay?”

  I stared at my mother with my mouth open in amazement. “You heard.”

  “Presley, we’ve been trying to tell Ruth that for years. She just won’t listen.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Sorry, but why would I think you would care about what happens around here?”

  “This is good gossip mother. I need to know this stuff.”

  “Okay. Next time, I will tell you. Now please stay away from Ruth or any of the other ladies with this.”

  “How am I supposed to get to the bottom of things?”

  ”That’s best left to the police or Cooper, don’t you think? That Cooper sure seemed like a nice boy.”

  “It’s not like I’m stopping them from what they’re doing. I just want to be able to write a good story. This is important to me. And yes, Mother, he is a nice boy.”

  “I know you have always wanted t
o write, Presley, and I am happy that you have your chance. But someone got killed here. It worries me you might do something that could put you in danger. We still don’t know who broke the window. You could be in danger.”

  “Mother, there is no reason to worry. I’m a big girl. Besides, you know the window was probably kids playing a prank.” I didn’t really think that and neither did Cooper or Dirt. But there was no reason to worry my mother with those details.

  “Presley, you just don’t know who might still be around. Bad people murdered the Senator. They’re dangerous.”

  “I will be careful, I promise. Now can we talk about something else?” I wanted to ask my mother about my dad’s behavior. I couldn’t get Ruth’s comment out of my head. I just wasn’t sure how to go about it.