Furniture Fatality in Las Vegas

  Furniture Fatality in Las Vegas

  A Tiffany Black Mystery

  by

  A.R. Winters

  Copyright © 2017 by A.R. Winters. All rights reserved.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book is a work of fiction. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental.

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  Furniture Fatality in Las Vegas

  A Tiffany Black Story

  Who could’ve hated Janice Wilkerson enough to kill her?

  She didn’t have many friends, and everyone Tiffany and Ian talk to admit that they never liked her much. But what other secrets are Janice’s acquaintances hiding?

  Meanwhile, Ian must disguise himself as a woman, and Nanna insists she should help with the investigation...

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  * * *

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty–One

  Chapter Twenty–Two

  Chapter Twenty–Three

  Chapter Twenty–Four

  Chapter Twenty–Five

  Chapter Twenty–Six

  Chapter Twenty–Seven

  Chapter Twenty–Eight

  Chapter Twenty–Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty–One

  Chapter Thirty–Two

  Chapter Thirty–Three

  Chapter One

  Tonight, my shift at the Treasury Casino was going to start after midnight.

  My friend Ian and I decided that since I had a couple hours’ free time ahead of me, it was a good idea to break out the Back to the Future trilogy and settle in for a long night of marathon movie watching.

  Ian and I were settled in on his comfy, slightly–too–soft sofa, an open pizza box lying on the coffee table before us. Ian’s kitten Snowflake perched on top of her cat tower, licked her paws, and looked down at us superciliously, the way only a cat with low regard for silly humans can.

  Ian lives a few doors down the hall from me, and we were hanging out at his place because he has a large flat–screen TV. The TV I have is much smaller, and according to Ian, its pixels aren’t “crisp” enough. Plus, I don’t have a Netflix subscription, or a massive library of DVDs like he does.

  Ian’s apartment is a mirror image of mine—the front door opens out into a living area, with a small kitchenette and space for a tiny dining table at the far end of the room. A window looks out onto the back of the building opposite ours, and a door leads to Ian’s bedroom and the bathroom.

  Because I don’t have money to waste on expensive furniture and accessories, my place is furnished with hand–me–downs and Craigslist finds. I haven’t bought new furniture in a long time, but I do try to clean my apartment every week or so, and I have a framed painting from Hawaii, which Nanna got me as a souvenir from her honeymoon travels, hanging on one wall.

  Ian’s apartment, on the other hand, is furnished like a college kid’s dorm room. Star Trek posters adorn one wall, and a shelf of pristine “mint condition” action figures occupies another. His furniture is all secondhand, just like mine, but he doesn’t clean out his apartment as often as I do.

  Ian reached for a slice of pizza and beamed. “I’m so glad you decided to get the meat lovers’. I feel like meat lovers’ is perfect for tonight!”

  I smiled but didn’t say anything as I bit into my slice. Ian is a perpetually earnest, diehard optimist who would’ve had something enthusiastic to say about whatever type of pizza I chose to order, even if I’d picked a gluten–free base topped with lettuce and nothing else.

  When I’d first met Ian, I’d found his constant optimism and eagerness naive and annoying; he was like an easily excitable puppy, but not as cute. However, as we’ve gotten to know each other better, I’ve come to appreciate his friendship; he’s loyal to a fault, and is one of the most kindhearted people I’ve ever met. Which is why I didn’t object when he decided to tag along and ultimately become my partner as a private investigator.

  When I first got my PI license, I thought I’d be a lone wolf, taking down criminals all by myself, but after a few jobs, I came to appreciate Ian’s presence. Sure, sometimes he says the first thing that comes into his mind and winds up annoying the suspects we have to talk to, but he can also sometimes exasperate suspects into admitting things they wouldn’t otherwise admit. Plus, it’s nice to have company when you think the person you’re talking to might turn out to be a psychopath with no qualms about killing people in cold blood.

  Ian swallowed his bite and turned to me. “Have you noticed that I’ve gotten a haircut?”

  I peered at him closely. Ian has a mop of unruly red curls, and they didn’t look any different to me. I shook my head no. “You look the same as usual.”

  “I thought investigators were supposed to be observant,” said Ian. “I got a haircut two days ago, and I bought myself a new shirt, and last night I went to one of the bars near the Strip, and I met this amazing girl.”

  I rolled my eyes. Ian was always meeting “amazing” girls. They would find out that he had a massive trust fund, get very interested in him, and then find out that he couldn’t touch the trust fund money without getting approval from his lawyer and parents. Immediately after that, they’d lose all interest in him. It’s a pattern I’ve seen happen far too often.

  “Did you tell her you can’t access your trust fund?” I said.

  Ian smiled and nodded. “I try not to tell girls about my trust fund these days. But it just kind of comes up—they ask me what I do, and then I have to say that I sold a start–up and got a bunch of money, and that it’s in a trust fund now. But if I do say that, these days, I take your advice and I tell them I can’t touch any of the money without the trustee’s approval.”

  I looked at him suspiciously. “And how’s that strategy been going so far?”

  Ian shrugged. “Not that great at first, but yesterday I met this girl. I told her about the trust fund, and she said she doesn’t care. So we went out for dinner, and we had a nice time. I think I might see her again.”

  I tried not to look suspicious, but Ian often has a hard time seeing beyond people’s facades, especially if the person in question is an attractive young woman.

  “I hope it works out well for you,” I finally managed to say. And I did. Ian has the worst luck with women, probably even worse than my luck with men. “When are you seeing her again?”

  “She said she’d get in touch with me.”

  “Ah.” I nodded and tried not to look too disenchanted. When a man said he’d contact you, it was usually the brush–off. I’d never heard of a woman telling her future boyfriend that she would contact him.

  Ian and I helped ourselves to the pizza, Snowflake closed her eyes and settled in for a nap, and Ian pressed play on the first movie. We had both eaten two slices of pizza, and the movie was about twenty minutes in, when there was a k
nock on Ian’s door.

  Ian hit pause, and we both looked at each other. Even Snowflake opened one lazy eye and stared at the front door.

  “Are you expecting someone?” I said.

  Ian shook his head. “Maybe it’s for you. Maybe one of your clients or former clients came to see you, and when they found out you weren’t home, they came over to my apartment.”

  “Or maybe it’s Nanna,” I said. “Maybe she and Wes arrived in Vegas a day early.”

  Ian went to open the door, and I stood up and peered over his shoulder curiously.

  As soon as he opened the door, high–pitched shrieks and greetings assaulted my ears, as though he’d opened a portal into the sound files of a teenage girl’s slumber party.

  Opposite Ian stood a vivacious twenty–something–year–old blonde who seemed to be a character out of a sorority movie. She wore knee–high black stiletto boots, a short denim skirt, and a midriff–baring sleeveless button–down checked shirt that ended in a knot. Her lipstick was pink, her hair blown out into big Farrah Fawcett waves, and her blue eyes sparkled with a friendliness that bordered on insanity.

  She waved her perfectly manicured hands around as she squealed loudly. “Iannikins! It’s so great to see you again! Aren’t you surprised to see me?”

  Ian seemed too shocked to be able to reply to her, and before he could say anything, the vivacious blonde caught sight of me, and for a split second, her huge smile faltered.

  But she recovered immediately and said, without missing a beat, “And who’s this? Is this your sister? You didn’t tell me you had a sister! Aren’t you going to invite me in? I can’t wait to see your place!”

  I forced myself not to roll my eyes, and instead, I smiled politely and held out my hand. “I’m Tiffany, Ian’s friend who lives down the hall.”

  Vivacious Blonde ignored my outstretched hand and came straight in for a hug. She smelled of something sweet and expensive, and when she pulled back, she said enthusiastically, “It’s so great to meet you! I told Ian I’d love to meet his friends, but he said he didn’t have many here in Vegas. I’m Cecilia, by the way. Ian’s new girlfriend. Is that your kitten over there? How cute! I love kittens!”

  I looked behind me, following her gaze, and saw that Snowflake was stubbornly pressing her eyes shut and pretending to be asleep.

  Snowflake is one of the most antisocial kittens I’ve ever met, and I knew there was no way she could be asleep. According to Ian, Snowflake picks up on people’s energy and doesn’t like to be around people with “negative vibes.”

  I glanced past Cecilia to Ian, who shrugged and smiled, looking sheepish and embarrassed, but proud that he had a girlfriend who came over to his apartment to surprise him, all at once. Never mind that he’d just met this “girlfriend” yesterday.

  “I was just telling Tiffany about you,” Ian said to Cecilia. “I’m glad you two met.”

  Cecilia squealed loudly again, and I resisted the urge to reach up and check that my ears were still functioning properly.

  “I can’t believe you’re telling your friends about me already!” said Cecilia. “I knew I had a good feeling about you!”

  The three of us sat down, Ian and I on the sofa, and Cecilia on an armchair that she dragged over to be closer to Ian. Ian offered Cecilia a slice of pizza, which she refused, the way I’d known she would. She was far too skinny to be the kind of person who went around eating pizza.

  “I just had a huge meal,” she said, patting her tummy and arching her back, forcing us to admire her bare midriff. “I’m just sooo full! I must look all bloated and piggish.”

  “You look gorgeous,” said Ian, his eyes O–shaped with unabated admiration.

  Cecilia flipped one hand and giggled modestly. “Oh, Iannikins! You’re always so sweet.”

  This time, my eyes rolled around of their own accord, and I found myself saying, “So, Ian tells me you two met yesterday.”

  “We did,” said Cecilia. “And it was love at first sight! When you have a connection so strong, you can’t deny it or ignore it. Right, Iannikins?”

  I glanced at Ian, but he had started stuttering. I wasn’t sure that he believed in love at first sight, or that the two of them had an undeniable connection, but he finally managed to say, “Of course.”

  “I had no idea,” continued Cecilia, batting her eyelashes at Ian, “that when I came to Vegas for a vacation with my girls, I’d meet such a wonderful man and fall in love. I can’t wait to move to Vegas for good and be with my Sweetie Coochie Iannikins forever.”

  One of my eyebrows shot up involuntarily, and I glanced at Ian.

  Ian’s face was a study in surprise and confusion. “You’re going to move to Vegas for good?”

  “Of course,” said Cecilia. “Don’t you want us to be together forever?”

  I could see the conflict and hesitation in Ian’s eyes. Sure, he liked Cecilia and thought she was pretty, but he also liked to look at other pretty women. In many ways, Ian has the maturity of a teenage boy, and I knew there was no way he was interested in settling down with one single woman, especially not after one date.

  When Ian didn’t say anything, I found myself turning to Cecilia and saying, “Where would you stay in Vegas?”

  “I was thinking of moving in with Ian,” Cecilia said smoothly. “It’s not like I would want to mooch off him. I’d get a job during the day, maybe even something part–time so that I could spend more time with my sweetikins.”

  I had a hard time keeping the incredulity out of my voice. “You want to move in here?”

  Cecilia looked around the room, as though seeing it for the first time, and shrugged. “Maybe we could live here for a few days, while we look for a nicer place. I love the Star Trek posters, but the place is a bit tiny for two people. I’d like somewhere with a nice kitchen, and maybe a pool in the complex.”

  Ian shook his head. “I’m not sure I could afford a place like that.”

  Cecilia laughed. “Of course you could! You just need to explain to your lawyer that you’ve got a girlfriend now, and you need to live somewhere nicer. I’m sure your parents will understand. They don’t want you to be single for the rest of your life, do they?”

  “They might increase my allowance a little bit,” Ian said hesitantly. “But not by much. I still wouldn’t be able to afford a place like that by myself.”

  Cecilia frowned. “But surely they’ve gotta let you access the trust fund at some point.”

  She pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment, and then her eyes and mouth went round, as though she’d been struck by sudden inspiration. “What if you got married? They’d have to give you control of the trust fund then!”

  Ian and I exchanged a glance.

  “I’m not sure they would give me control even then,” said Ian regretfully. “My parents think I can’t be trusted with money, and I’ve always had bad luck with girls, so I’m not sure how happy they’d be about my getting a live–in girlfriend.”

  “Or a wife,” I reminded him snidely. I’d managed to keep my face quite straight, but inside I was dying of laughter at the thought of Ian actually having a wife.

  Cecilia smiled sweetly. “I’m sure that’s not true. I’m sure your parents would change their minds once they saw how in love we are.”

  “So,” I said, trying my best not to sound judgmental, “you think that if you marry Ian, he can get access to his trust fund? You do know that even if you get married, his parents and lawyer are going to make you sign a crazy–strict prenup.”

  Cecilia laughed. “I don’t care about prenups. All I care about is being with my sweet Iannikins. It’s not like I intend to ever get divorced from him.”

  “Looks like you and Cecilia are going to be together forever,” I told Ian.

  Ian shot me a silent, panicked look.

  Cecilia squealed softly. “See! Even your best friend loves me. I’m sure we can make this work out. Your parents are going to give you access to the trust fund when they see
us together, I know it.”

  Ian gulped, and his jaw worked up and down silently as he tried to form words. “Cecilia,” he managed to say finally, “do you really think this is a good idea? I mean, we just met…”

  “That’s what makes it so special!” said Cecilia. “What we have is so romantic and magical.”

  “Maybe you two should spend some more time getting to know each other, before you make long–term plans like moving to Vegas,” I said.

  “Of course,” said Cecilia. “That’s why I’m here now. I thought Sweetikins and I could hang out together and get to know each other. I want to spend all my time with him.”

  “How long are you in Vegas for?” I said.

  “I’ve got another two weeks left on my vacation,” said Cecilia. “But I don’t really need to end it. I can just drop out of college, or transfer over here. Now that I’ve found true love, it’s not like I can just give it up.”

  Ian looked all scared and panicked, and finally, he managed to say, “That’s lovely. But Tiffany and I were going to watch some movies together. Maybe you and I can hang out another day.”

  Cecilia laughed. “Don’t be silly, I can watch the movies with you. I love movies!”

  Ian glanced at me and silently mouthed, “Help!”

  I looked at him and smiled, but I wasn’t sure what I could do. Cecilia seemed particularly determined, and subtle hints were obviously not going to work on her. I felt a tiny bit sorry for her—she’d clearly come to Vegas hoping to meet a wealthy man, and now that she’d found Ian, she thought her mission had already been halfway accomplished. Just as I was wondering how to get rid of Cecilia, my cell phone rang.