Pesky Politicians in Las Vegas Read online

  I’d begged Stone to let me help him out, but instead, he’d chosen to disappear.

  The cell phone he’d given me was my last connection to him. I was to use it only in case of an emergency. And so far, no such emergency had arisen.

  I couldn’t stop hoping that one day, Stone would contact me and ask me to help him out. But till now, Stone had never tried to contact me.

  Instead, I had spent the last few weeks trying to track down everyone Stone had worked for as a security consultant in Las Vegas. All of his clients had been successful businessmen, and many of them were casino owners. However, most of them had hired Stone based on a recommendation from Ethan Becker, a businessman who’d been murdered a while back. None of the people I’d talked to could help me or provide me with any other way of getting in touch with Stone, but I kept trying.

  I looked at the emergency cell phone and sighed. I didn’t know what was going on with Stone, but I was determined to get to the bottom of it.

  Chapter Two

  A week later, Ian and I were eating pizza that we’d ordered in and watching reruns of one of our favorite sitcoms. Once again, my shift at the Treasury Casino was due to start at 3 a.m., and I was in no rush to leave the house.

  Snowflake sat by herself on one corner of the sofa, occasionally licking her paws and looking at us with disdain. She thought that pizza was smelly and horrible, and when we’d tried to give her a tiny bit of the crust, she’d flung it far away and looked at us like we were pathetic creatures who didn’t know what food was supposed to taste like.

  I’d just taken a bite of my slice when there was a knock on the door.

  Ian looked at me, and I shrugged. I wasn’t expecting anyone.

  “Maybe Glenn’s got some extra cupcake decorations for us,” suggested Ian.

  I swallowed my mouthful and nodded. “Maybe.”

  Ian went to open the door, and I heard a nervous voice saying, “Umm. Isn’t this Tiffany Black’s place? I thought she lived here.”

  “Who are you?” said Ian.

  “Uh—umm… You’re not Tiffany. Do you know where she is?”

  I stood up and peered over Ian’s shoulder. “Gary! What are you doing here?”

  Gary Wilkerson had been a shy, awkward kid in high school, and after all these years, his awkwardness seemed to have just grown worse. He wasn’t too tall, but he had a lanky, scraggly look about him, and his straight brown hair was limp and overgrown. His eyes were nervous and watery, and he had the air of someone who never quite belonged.

  Gary turned from Ian to me, and a wave of relief washed over his face. “Thank God. I thought maybe I’d been given the wrong address.”

  He pushed past Ian and into my apartment, where he completely ignored that I was holding a slice of pizza and gave me a quick hug. “Tiffany! Boy, am I glad to see you.”

  Ian looked at me, and I squinched up my face in an attempt to convey the message that Gary was harmless. It was okay for him to barge into my apartment.

  As Ian closed the apartment door, I said, “Ian, this is Gary Wilkerson. We went to high school together. Gary, this is my neighbor, Ian.”

  Gary turned to Ian and mumbled a polite greeting.

  Snowflake decided that now was a good time to wake up, and she jumped off the sofa and rubbed against Gary’s ankles. He dutifully bent down to tickle her behind her ears, and she purred loudly.

  “Would you like some pizza?” I said, more out of politeness than actual hospitality.

  Gary shook his head. “Thanks, but I came here to talk to you. I hope now isn’t a bad time?”

  “It’s not too bad,” I said. “But my shift at the casino starts in a few hours.”

  Gary continued to pet Snowflake gently, and he nodded. “This shouldn’t take very long.”

  “Have a seat,” I said, settling back down on the sofa. “Ian and I were having our dinner, so I hope you don’t mind if we keep eating.”

  “It’s fine,” said Gary. He sat down in an armchair opposite the sofa, and Snowflake decided to jump onto his lap.

  “She likes you,” said Ian. “She’s usually not that friendly with strangers.”

  “I like animals,” said Gary. “I get to meet quite a few of them during my work.”

  “What kind of work is that?” said Ian.

  Gary wriggled uncomfortably in his chair. “I used to be a gardener. I used to work in a couple of nice houses around Henderson.”

  “Yes,” I said gently, “I saw on the news that you used to be the gardener at the Henderson house where Carl Wareheim was killed.”

  Gary gave me a beseeching look. “Actually, that’s what I’m here to talk to you about. I’m not sure how much you’ve seen in the news, but…” He glanced at Ian uneasily. “Actually,” he started again, “I was hoping we could talk in private. I need to talk to you about maybe working for me as a private investigator.”

  “Ian’s my partner,” I said. “We investigate cases together. Anyway, how did you know where to find me?”

  “Dennis and Sandra,” he said, naming two other high school classmates, “told me that you do PI work now. They said you’re really good, and they gave me your address. They didn’t have your phone number, otherwise I’d have called you before I showed up. I hope you don’t mind too much.”

  I shook my head, and in between bites of my pizza, I said, “No, it’s fine. What’s up?”

  “You know how Carl Wareheim was killed,” said Gary. “The cops decided that he was poisoned. Like, murdered poisoned.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’ve been reading about it in the papers.”

  “Anyway,” he said, “I’m a suspect in the case. It’s really terrible, and I’ve got nothing to do with it, but they don’t believe me.”

  “If you’ve really got nothing to do with it,” I said, “then you might as well leave the police to their investigations. I’m sure they’ll discover whoever was behind it.”

  Gary shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and I watched him closely. He’d never been the smartest kid in our class, and after high school, he’d decided that he wanted to go into gardening and landscaping. I’d heard from mutual friends that the job suited him—he got to be outdoors most of the time, and he didn’t have to spend his time writing up complex reports or doing difficult math or even dealing with too many people. I couldn’t imagine him going to all the trouble to actually kill someone.

  “Why do they suspect you?” I asked gently.

  “Carl and I had a big argument that afternoon,” said Gary. “The guy who owns the house, Paul Handell, said that Carl was going to pay me. But Carl said he didn’t have to pay me, and that Paul would pay me. But that’s not what I’d been told. So we had a big argument.”

  “How did the argument end?”

  “Carl said that he would pay me this once, but that I’d have to talk to Paul after this. I told him that if he didn’t pay me, I wouldn’t work in the gardens. I’m not sure how to call Paul. Paul’s supposed to be in France for a year or something. Anyway, Carl said he would pay me.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad,” said Ian. “People disagree about payments all the time.”

  Gary shook his head. “The problem is, they found weed killer in Carl’s coffee. That’s what killed him—and that same weed killer was in the garden shed. Which is weird, because I never used it in my life. It’s too harsh for the garden.”

  I frowned. “So you’re saying someone else poisoned him, and then planted the weed killer in the shed?”

  Gary shrugged. “I know, it sounds crazy. But that’s what happened.”

  I nodded. I’ve seen stranger things happen, so perhaps a planted weed killer wasn’t that odd. “What was security like at the house? Who’d be able to access the garden shed?”

  “Well,” said Gary, “they’ve got an alarm system, but it was turned off sometime before they found Carl dead.”

  “So whoever came in to kill Carl knew how to disarm the system.”

  “Lots of c
areer criminals can disarm systems,” said Ian. “And maybe whoever killed Carl took the time to learn how to disarm an alarm.”

  “That would make sense,” I mused. “If you’re going to go to all the effort of killing someone, you might as well take the time to learn how to disarm an alarm.”

  Gary shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Yeah. I guess it’s not that difficult to do.”

  “And was the garden shed alarmed too?”

  Gary shook his head no. “It’s off on one side of the garden, kind of hidden away. It’s really just a place to store things like shovels and potting mix.”

  Ian said, “How’d you get into the house that night anyway? Didn’t the alarm go off then?”

  Gary shook his head. “I went to the front door and Carl’s bodyguard answered it. I told him I was there to collect a check from Carl’s study, and he told me to go around the side and enter through the study’s French doors. I guess he must’ve turned off the alarm for me when I walked in.”

  “Maybe he forgot to turn it back on,” I suggested.

  “Maybe,” said Gary.

  “What time did you go to collect the check?”

  “Around seven thirty,” said Gary. “Carl said he’d leave an envelope full of the money he owed me in the study, so I went in to get it. I had no idea he’d be dead a little while later.”

  “So nobody else went into the house around that time?”

  Gary shook his head. “There’s this back door that isn’t monitored by cameras. But nobody else was seen going inside on camera.”

  “Why would there be a back door that’s not monitored by cameras?” said Ian. “That doesn’t make sense, to have the whole house monitored, but not watch one particular door.”

  “It’s always been that way. The camera over that door didn’t work when Paul was living there either,” said Gary. “Anyway, this sucks. I didn’t sign up for this.”

  He sounded miserable, and even Snowflake looked up at him sympathetically.

  “I’m sorry about all this,” I said. “But perhaps it’s better to let the cops do their jobs. I’m sure they’ll turn up something.”

  Gary shook his head. “They found some feminist flyers at my apartment. But really, I only had them because someone handed them out to me. I didn’t even get a chance to read them. They think I’m an aggressive feminist who killed Carl because of his politics, and that the fight we had just tipped me over the edge. But that’s not true—I don’t even follow politics.”

  “If the man’s sure he wants to hire us,” said Ian, “we probably shouldn’t discourage him. This is exactly the kind of case we should be investigating—I can’t wait to start!”

  I looked at Gary and wondered if he knew just how expensive a private investigator could be. “I’m sorry about your situation,” I said. “But I don’t want you to waste your savings on this. I’m sure the police will clear things up eventually.”

  Gary shook his head. “Two days after Carl died, the cops took me in for questioning. And then after they let me out, I walked straight to the nearest casino and put twenty-five cents into one of those slot machines. I won a hundred grand, and I promised myself: if things started to look really bad, I’d hire myself a private investigator. There’s no point having won a jackpot if I’m sitting in jail and I can’t enjoy it. It’s no fun being accused of murder.”

  I nodded. “Okay. If money isn’t a problem, I’d be happy to look into this for you.”

  “Tiffany and I work together,” Ian added quickly.

  Ian glanced at me sideways, but I just smiled and nodded. I had no intention of trying to keep Ian out of the investigation. By now, I’d learned that it helped to have someone else looking out for you.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s get started. Let me find a contract for you to sign. And then you can tell me everything you know about Carl.”

  Chapter Three

  “I didn’t know much about Carl when I was working there,” said Gary. He looked at me sheepishly, obviously feeling silly for not having researched the man he’d been working for. “The guy who owned the place, Paul, just told me that he’d be having a business acquaintance staying for a while. When I was working there, I knew that Carl was a politician, and that lots of people didn’t like him. But I didn’t know much about the kinds of laws he wanted to pass. I’ve never been interested in politics, and I don’t understand a lot of it.”

  “I don’t like politics either,” said Ian. “I think most politicians are horrible, and they just lie about everything.”

  “It’s okay that you didn’t research the man who’d be living there,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “There’s no reason to research a person every time you work for them.”

  Gary nodded. “Yeah, but after he died, I read up on him a bit. He’s not liked by a lot of people, but a lot of other people like him a lot.”

  “That’s how it is with most politicians,” Ian said. “There isn’t a single politician out there who everybody likes.”

  “Yeah,” said Gary. “But I read there are women out there who claim he abused them, and there’s another woman who says he’s the father of her child.”

  I nodded. “Yes, I’ve read those articles too. Although, if I’d known I would be looking into Carl’s death, I’d have read a little more.”

  “I can help out with that,” Ian said enthusiastically. “I can stay up tonight when you have your shift, and I’ll try to read every article out there that’s been written about Carl.”

  I looked at Ian gratefully. He might act silly and childish at times, but he’s so eager to work as a private investigator that he doesn’t mind doing the grunt work. “Thanks, Ian. I really appreciate that.”

  Ian beamed at me. “No problemo, boss.”

  I turned to Gary again. “According to the news reports I read, a lot of women are anonymously accusing him of being violent toward them. But there’s one woman who’s come out, Emma Tyrone, who says he used to be violent and hit her when they were dating, a few years back.”

  “I read about that too,” said Gary. “After Carl’s death, of course. And the woman who says he’s her child’s dad is Danielle Brown—she’s an actress who played a minor character in a sitcom three months ago, and she’s had a small part in a horror movie before that. I think both Emma and Danielle are in Vegas at the moment. At least, that’s what I read.”

  I frowned and bit my lip thoughtfully. “Sometimes people lie in order to get attention,” I said slowly. “Just because these women claim these things doesn’t mean they’re true.”

  “But if they are true,” said Ian, “maybe one of these women killed him.”

  “If these women are still in Las Vegas,” I said to Gary, “Ian and I will get in touch with them. Even if they didn’t kill Carl, they might have something useful to tell us.”

  “What about the candidates planning on running against him in the primaries?” said Ian. “I’ve never met a politician I trusted. I wouldn’t put it beyond them to get one of their competitors killed.”

  “There are two people running against him so far,” said Gary. “I read about it two days ago, but I don’t remember their names.”

  “Neither do I,” I said. “But that’s okay. Ian will find out about them when he does his research tonight.”

  “What bothers me is that there was the back door in the house that was completely unmonitored,” said Ian.

  Gary said, “Well, that camera never worked. I heard rumors that Paul preferred it that way because he’d sneak mistresses into the house sometimes. And Carl just left it that way.”

  “If Carl’s the womanizer the press paints him as,” I said, “then perhaps he was happy with the broken-camera arrangement. Maybe he arranged for one of his mistresses to sneak in, too.”

  “That would make sense,” said Ian. “You wouldn’t want your mistress to get caught on tape. But Carl’s married, isn’t he?”

  “He’s married to a woman named Ellen,” said Gary. “Elle
n and her daughter Trish are also staying at the house.”

  “I’ll have to talk to Ellen,” I said. Usually, in any investigation, the spouse is the first suspect. Although I knew it would be hard to get in touch with Ellen. She wasn’t a Vegas local, and none of my local contacts would know her either.

  “This guy is actually really unpopular,” said Ian. “Karma was telling us about this group of feminists who actually follow him around the country as he meets up with people, protesting his policies. Apparently, one of the most serious protesters, Angela Everton, was arrested a few months ago for throwing a raw egg at him.”

  Gary laughed suddenly. “Isn’t that funny? I saw a photo of Carl with egg on his face. It was so funny.”

  I looked at him sternly. “It means that Angela’s a serious suspect.”

  “I read in the news that Angela is in Vegas right now,” said Ian. “A few other women from the group are here too. Perhaps one of them had something to do with this.”

  Gary shook his head. “I don’t think one of those women would kill him.”

  “Why not?” said Ian. “We have to look into all the suspects.”

  Gary shrugged. “I’m not sure how they would even get into the house to poison him.”

  “We could say that about anyone,” I reminded Gary. “And if there’s nothing on the security cameras, which I’m guessing there isn’t, since you’re the chief suspect, perhaps one of them snuck in through the back door. Maybe they even managed to shut off the security system for a few seconds somehow.”

  “I guess you’re right,” said Gary doubtfully.

  Ian, Gary and I racked our brains to come up with a few more suspects, but we couldn’t think of anyone else.

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I suppose we’ve already got a long list of people we should be talking to. And then these people usually suggest someone else. I’m sure we’ll find some way to discover who really did kill Carl Wareheim.”

  A few minutes later, Gary said goodbye and headed out. Ian left around the same time, saying that he would get started on the research immediately, and I told him that I’d use my extra pre-work time to research Ellen, Carl’s wife.