Lounge Singers And Liars In Las Vegas Read online

  Joan nodded. “Yes. Thank you. I guess I should talk to someone about what I should do. Maybe there’s a local business association who could help.”

  I felt a wave of relief. Joan seemed to be thinking straight despite all that she’d been through. “Yes, that’s a great idea! And meanwhile, why don’t you ask Xavier to show you what he knows of the business?”

  Joan looked at me mournfully. “I should’ve asked Harv to do that while he was still alive, shouldn’t I? But I always thought he’d be around, taking care of me.”

  I said, “I guess you two had a good relationship.”

  Ian said, “You must’ve been really in love.”

  Joan smiled at him kindly. “Yes. We met six years ago, and it was love at first sight. My Harv was good to me.”

  “And faithful?” asked Ian.

  Joan’s smile disappeared. “Huh?”

  Ian said, “I mean, there wasn’t any other woman in his life, was there?”

  “How dare you!” Joan narrowed her eyes at Ian. “Speaking ill of the dead! And no, of course there wasn’t! Harv and I were so happy together.”

  And there was no insurance payout either, I thought to myself—but I made a mental note to check with Elwood.

  “I apologize for Ian,” I said.

  “But it’s usually the spouse,” Ian said, ignoring my attempt to soothe the waters. “Who’s the killer, I mean.”

  Joan glared at Ian. “Well, in this case, we’ve got Roger right on tape killing my Harv.”

  “Why would he do that?” I asked, trying to shift Joan’s anger off Ian. “Did he know Harv?”

  Joan looked at me, confused. “No. Not that I know of, I mean.”

  “Did Roger ever come in here, with costumes maybe? Or did the two—” I stretched for a possible connection “—maybe play poker together or something?”

  “No. Roger didn’t know Harvey at all.”

  “Well, did Harvey have any enemies? Anyone who might’ve wanted to hurt him?”

  “The cops asked the same thing, and I’ll tell you what I told them: no. My Harvey was a good man. He didn’t have any enemies.”

  “What about anything out of the ordinary?” I asked. “Had he been acting strangely recently, did you notice anything unusual, anything at all?”

  “No,” said Joan again. “Everything was the same as it’s always been.”

  “And where were you on the night that Harvey died?”

  “In bed.” Joan’s eyes grew hard again. “You’re not asking me for an alibi, are you? Because that would mean you still think I killed him! And I didn’t.”

  “No, of course not,” I said. “I was just wondering what your and Harvey’s habits were.”

  “Right.” Joan nodded, and her eyes softened. “We were creatures of habit, that’s true. Every evening, we’d close up shop and go upstairs. I’d cook our dinner, and we’d eat together with a glass or two of red wine. Then we’d turn in early. We did the exact same thing that Tuesday.”

  I turned that over in my mind. “So the last time you saw Harvey, the two of you had eaten your dinner and gone to bed.”

  Tears filled Joan’s eyes again. “Yes. I woke up and his side of the bed was empty. I thought maybe he’d gone down to the store early—he did that sometimes—or gone out for a walk before it got too hot. I didn’t think much of it. He didn’t come up, so I showered and had my breakfast, and then I went down. The shop wasn’t open, so I opened up.” She was silent for a few moments. “Harvey didn’t show up, which was strange, but I thought maybe he’d run into an old friend or something. Then, after lunch, the police showed up.”

  We were silent, and this time, I didn’t know what to say.

  The doorbell jangled, and a woman with peroxide blonde hair walked in, carrying a beaded gown over one arm. “You still open for business?” she said.

  “Yes.” Joan looked at the woman, and pasted on a smile. “Why don’t I take a look at that stain?”

  It was our cue to leave, and I said to Joan, “Is it okay if we got to the back to talk to Xavier?”

  Joan shrugged, as though she was bored of our conversation. “Sure. But you can only go two at a time. Health and safety regulations.”

  “No problem.” I turned to Nanna and handed her my car keys. “You can wait in the car for us.”

  Nanna started to protest, but I leaned in close and said, “Let’s not get Joan annoyed at us. She’s been helpful so far.”

  Nanna sighed. “I know—you’re right. The important thing is to get Roger off the hook.” Quickly, we both glanced at Joan, but she seemed engrossed in staring at the gown’s stain.

  “I’ll wait for you two outside,” Nanna said, walking out the door, and Ian and I headed through the doorway into the room at the back, where gowns, furs, and expensive-looking clothes hung on mechanized racks.

  Xavier was on the other side of the room. He stood at a doorway which was open and clearly led to a parking lot at the back.

  “I heard you talking to Joan,” he said as Ian and I walked up to him. “I’m Xavier.”

  As we got to the open door, we saw another man—clearly the delivery driver Joan had mentioned—standing on the other side, carrying a sheath of plastic-wrapped furs. “I’m Dave,” he said.

  We introduced ourselves and expressed our condolences at Harvey’s death.

  “Didn’t know the man too well,” Xavier said. “Only been here a month.”

  Dave nodded. “I’ve been around since Harvey started the place, but I do deliveries for them so I’m not actually in much. I work for a few businesses around here.”

  “Was he a good boss?”

  Xavier shrugged. “Paid fairly and on time, didn’t expect me to do more than what I’ve signed on for. I’d say he was all right.”

  Dave nodded. “Never troubled me.”

  “And Joan?”

  “Eh. She seems okay too,” said Xavier. “Didn’t bother much with the business.”

  Dave tilted his head in agreement. “Sure, but she sure has changed from the woman Harvey married.”

  “Marriage does that to women,” Xavier said wisely. “My wife She turned from sweet to sour within three days of those vows.”

  The two men laughed, and Ian and I looked at each other. Neither of us had any marriage experience, so we couldn’t join in the laughter.

  “Did Harvey have any enemies?” I asked, once the men had stopped laughing at their trite jokes.

  Both men shook their heads. “Nope, seemed a simple enough business,” Xavier said.

  Dave was about to agree, but then he stopped himself. “There was one customer, once. Greg Tullius. Got into a huge shouting match with Harvey. Don’t know why though,” he said, in response to my questioning look.

  I nodded to myself. “And all the other customers were usually happy dealing with Harvey?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you guys know if Harvey knew Roger Briars?”

  “The singer guy? The one they caught on camera?” They both shook their heads.

  Ian and I asked a few more questions, trying to find out more about Harvey and anything unusual that may’ve been happening before his death, but the two men had no other information to share, so we finally thanked them and headed back out.

  When we went to the front of the store, Joan was busy looking through five furs that an elderly woman with gleaming white hair had brought in, and she glanced up at us and nodded.

  “Thanks for your help,” I said to her, sliding one of my business cards across the counter toward her. “Let me know if you think of anything else.”

  Joan nodded again, but this time she was looking at the furs, and not me, so Ian and I let ourselves out and headed for my car.

  Chapter 11

  “It’s always the spouse,” Ian was muttering as we crossed the parking lot to get to my Honda. “I’m telling you: she’s got no alibi, and she was the last person to have seen him alive.”

  “I’m not crossing her off my lis
t,” I told him, “but we’ve barely talked to anyone yet. And I just can’t see her doing it. She seems kind of helpless, don’t you think?”

  “That’s true,” Ian admitted. “She seems lost. I don’t think she wants to be in this spot.”

  We stepped into the car to see Nanna staring off into the distance.

  “We’re back,” Ian said loudly, as though Nanna hadn’t noticed us.

  “That man,” Nanna said. “Look, the old white sedan over there—the man sitting in it’s been staring non-stop at the dry cleaning shop.”

  Ian and I both swiveled our heads to look in the direction Nanna was staring at. Sure enough, there was a white sedan parked there, and the man sitting in the driver’s seat was looking ahead at the dry cleaners.

  “Maybe he’s waiting for someone,” Ian suggested.

  “Sure. But he’s been here longer than we have. I saw him as soon as I got into the car, and he hasn’t moved since.”

  Something about the situation felt off, so I said, “I’ll go talk to him.”

  Immediately, Ian said, “I’ll come with.”

  I shook my head. “No, you stay with Nanna. If anything goes wrong, I need you to call the cops and drive Nanna home if you need to.”

  Before either of them could say anything more, I let myself out of the car and headed over toward the sedan—except I made it look as though I was going toward the car parked opposite him.

  Once I got to within a few feet of the sedan, I peered at it closely. The back seats were covered with all kinds of junk: blankets, towels, what looked like a bar of soap, and an extra pair of shoes. There were two grocery bags filled with more stuff. I could make out a few workman’s tools: screwdrivers, a ball peen hammer, a pair of rubber gloves, and a set of wrenches. As I got closer, I noticed a pillow lying on top of one of the grocery bags, and then it hit me. This man must be living in his car.

  I was close enough to see the man now, but he was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. As though he sensed my presence, he whirled around, glanced at me, and fired up his ignition.

  I was just about to run toward his car and try to knock on his door when he pulled out of the parking lot and sped off, leaving me standing there alone.

  “That was… odd,” I muttered to myself.

  Chapter 12

  The chat with Joan had taken us slightly longer than I’d expected, so the three of us headed straight to the Tremonte and over to Roger’s show.

  We arrived just as the show was wrapping up, and we peered into the lounge to have a look. To my surprise, the place looked nothing like the half-empty room I’d seen in the photos Nanna had shown me: it was packed, crammed full of people.

  We stayed there for the last few minutes of Roger’s show, and I got my second surprise of the evening: Roger was actually talented, just like Nanna said.

  His voice was deep and melodious, and he breathed life into the sad ballad he was singing. The audience was mesmerized, and when his set ended, the applause was deafening.

  “He’s not a washed-up hack like I’d thought,” Ian said.

  “Told ya,” Nanna said sharply with a hmph.

  The crowd began to rise and make their way toward the three entrances. I was just about to head to the back of the room when I saw him—the man I’d seen just minutes ago, sitting in his car and watching the dry cleaner’s! He was still wearing his sunglasses and baseball cap, and the instant I took a few steps toward him, he turned to face me.

  Immediately, he made a dash for the closest exit.

  This time, I did give chase. Leaving Nanna and Ian behind, I pushed my way through the crowd to the exit he’d left through. But by the time I got there, the man was gone.

  “Rats,” I muttered, scowling to myself and ignoring the people giving me funny looks. “Not again.”

  I made my way back to Nanna and Ian, who looked confused until I explained what’d just happened.

  “This can’t be a coincidence,” Nanna said with a hopeful smile on her face. “Maybe he’s the real killer!”

  “Maybe he works for the FBI and he’s investigating undercover,” Ian said.

  I sighed. “Maybe he’s just a nosy homeless guy. Anyway, we’re not going to find out now. We may as well talk to Roger Briars.”

  “Ohmygod!” Nanna said, suddenly looking like she was about to faint. “This is it!”

  I turned to her and tilted my head. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Okay? I’m going to be great!”

  She was flushed pink, fanning her face. “Hang on, let me put on some lipstick! Why didn’t I do this in the car?”

  We waited a minute while Nanna put on some bright pink lipstick—and then decided to powder her face a bit—and then decided to swirl on some mascara like I’d shown her. When we were just about ready to go, she decided to fluff up her hair a bit, and then she told us she’d make a quick dash to the bathroom. “I don’t want to go in the middle of the interview. In fact, you two should go, too!”

  “I’m fine,” I assured Nanna, wondering if it’d been a good idea to bring her after all.

  When Nanna finally reappeared near the entrance to Roger’s dressing room after a good twenty minutes, she’d applied a liberal dose of perfume and a coat of eyeshadow.

  “I’m all good to go now,” she declared happily.

  “You look great,” Ian said to her. “Your eyes are all shiny.”

  Nanna smiled and fanned herself. “This is it!” she repeated.

  I took a deep breath and knocked on Roger’s door.

  “Come in,” called his deep voice, and the three of us all trooped in single-file.

  Up close, Roger was strikingly handsome. His blue eyes were a deep, clear azure, so bright that I was sure they were contacts. They stood out in contrast to his tanned skin, and his face was all angles and a strong jaw. When he smiled, his teeth gleamed a perfect pearly white, and as we shook hands and introduced ourselves, I noticed that his accent had a touch of Texan drawl.

  “I’m sure glad you finally made it,” Roger said to me. “It’s a pleasure to meet y’all. Especially you, Nanna.”

  Nanna looked like she could melt into the floor, but she managed to squeak out, “I’m a huge fan of yours.”

  “Thank you.” Roger dipped his head. “It’s an honor to meet a real fan.”

  “You’re as handsome up close as you are on stage,” Nanna said.

  Roger smiled again.

  “Your hair is so shiny,” Nanna said. “Is it real? Do you use a special shampoo?”

  “I use Heads Above,” Roger said. “I had an ad contract with them before—before I moved down here.”

  “Nanna convinced me to come talk to you,” I said, trying to steer the conversation toward more important topics. Although, I did make a mental note to try out Heads Above for my next shampoo. “Most people seem to think you killed Harvey.”

  “Harvey Gaudet. That’s one name I’ll never forget,” said Roger, sitting down on a small hard-backed wooden chair, and indicating that we take the sofa opposite him. “But only because of this business. I never even knew the man. I’d never seen him before that day.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t know him?” I asked. “Never met him even once or twice? Maybe he came to your shows?”

  Roger shook his head. “No. The cops looked through footage of my shows for him, and they didn’t find him, not in the last six months at least. That’s how long the Tremonte keeps tapes of my shows.”

  “And you never met the man before?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” I leaned back and crossed my legs, watching Roger carefully. “What’s the deal with stuffing him into the oven then?”

  Roger sighed, and the lines on his face seemed to be etched deeper. “Here’s the thing. And I’ve told this to that detective a million times, and I’ve gone over it in my head a million times more.”

  He took a deep breath and went on. “Monday night, I did my show, right? Nothing unusual there.” We
all nodded, and Roger went on. “I went straight up after my show, and a few minutes later, my lady friend showed up. I let her into my room, we had a good time, and then I had a shower and said goodbye to her. I was about to order room service when I noticed a foot poking out from under my bed! I had a look and it was this guy, naked as the day was long.”

  He paused to take a breath and Nanna reapplied her lipstick.

  “Okay,” Roger said. “So I pulled the guy out, and checked for his pulse, but I knew he was dead. He was cold to touch, like a lizard.”

  “And this was the first time you were seeing him?” I asked.

  Roger nodded. “Yep. And he was dead. Deader than a doornail. And I’d got nothing to do with it.”

  Roger looked miserable, and I breathed in deeply. So far, I was tempted to believe his story.

  “If you found him dead in your room, how’d he get there?”

  Roger shook his head. “No idea. Someone must’ve put him there! And I don’t know—maybe he’d been put in my room while I was still doing my show? I came up to my suite and headed straight for the bathroom where I freshened up and changed, and then my lady stopped by and we hung out in the living room. I only went to the bedroom after she’d left. So the body could’ve been there a whole long time.”

  He shuddered, and I pressed my lips together. It was certainly creepy imagining that a dead body had been put in your room while you were out.

  Ian said, “Who’s this lady friend of yours? Maybe she put the body there.”

  Roger burst out laughing. “No, Anna? No way! She’s a nice woman, and she just had a handbag with her. How’d she get a body in?”

  “Hmm.” I decided to circle back to this Anna later. “So, why didn’t you call the police as soon as you found the body?”

  Roger let out a derisive snort. “Are you kidding me? And have what happened to me last time happen all over again? No way, no how. I lost my fiancé, I lost my career. And then I rebuilt my career—or something like it. I’m not famous anymore, and tons of people think I’m a killer, but they’ve never proved anything. And I get paid to sing, and I live in this nice suite of rooms.”