Sin City Homicide Read online

  “Yeah, ER. Good money in it. She makes more than me. How’s Melissa and the boys?”

  “We divorced a while ago.”

  “Oh, wow. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know.”

  “It just wasn’t meant to be, I guess. So, what’s up?”

  “Well, I got a little something here that I think I need your help on.”

  “What is it?” Stanton picked up his grip strengthener and began to squeeze in a slow rhythm.

  “Rape-homicide. A couple. The guy’s kind of a big shot in town, and I need some help.”

  “Have you called the feds?”

  “FBI? You shitting me? They’re ninety-nine percent terrorism now. If your perp’s name isn’t Omar or Muhammad, you’re at the bottom of the list. Besides, to be totally honest… how long’s it been since you been up here in Vegas?”

  “At least five or six years.”

  “And you probably remember we were pretty ahead of the curve even then. A lot’s changed, even since then. We got new labs and an expanded CSI unit, thanks to the TV show, I guess. Kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Everyone expected us to have the best, and so the higher-ups just fell in line. Anyway, my point is that I think we even got the labs in Quantico beat.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. I’m not just blowing smoke, either. So, I don’t need the feds for that. I need something else.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I need you, Jon.”

  “Orson—”

  “I know, I know. You think I’m superstitious, don’t you? But there’s something to the way you think, Jon, that I haven’t seen in other detectives. You know these fuckers inside and out. Call it a sixth sense or imagination or whatever. Harlow knows that. That’s why he recruited you for that bullshit Cold Case Unit of his.”

  Stanton grew uncomfortable and put his feet up on the desk in an attempt to force himself to relax. “I’m pretty swamped with my own cases right now.”

  “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I already spoke to the assistant chief over there. What’s his name? Hu?”

  “Chin Ho.”

  “Yeah, I spoke to him, and we worked something out. He’d be willing to bring in another detective to cover for you while you come out here.”

  “And how’d you convince him of that?”

  “We got something over here you guys need—money. Money yells louder than anything else.”

  “You’re going to pay them to have me come out there?”

  “We can talk about the details later, but you wouldn’t just be working. I’m going to set you up in one of the nicest hotels out here. Anything you need, you tell us. You wanna fly your boys out on the weekends? It’s done. You wanna drive around in a Ferrari while you’re here? No problem.”

  “This guy was that important, huh?”

  “More than you know.”

  “All right. I’ll come take a look, but I gotta tie up a few loose ends.”

  “I’ll book your flight now for Saturday, first-class. I really owe you one, Jon. I’m not kidding. You call in that favor whenever you need.”

  “I’m just taking a look at the evidence, Orson. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “Well, whatever, just get on that plane. I’ll feel better just having you out here.”

  Stanton ended the call and noticed Lieutenant Childs standing at the door with his arms crossed. He had built even more muscle over the past few months, and they bulged underneath his smooth, black skin.

  “Old friend?” he asked.

  “I did some consulting work for him when I was still a grad student. We’ve stayed in touch since then.”

  “All expenses-paid trip to Vegas? Sounds good to me.”

  “Maybe. If he’s calling me and willing to shell out that kind of cash, it means he doesn’t have any other options. If I can’t help him right away, I’ll be flying coach on the next plane back here.”

  3

  By Friday, Stanton had passed his cases over to the detective brought in to cover for him. He was tall and lanky, with wrinkled suits and worn-out shoes, but he struck Stanton as honest and hardworking. After he had given him the last case, Stanton was notified that Assistant Chief Ho wanted to see him at the SDPD headquarters uptown before the day’s end.

  Stanton left the office around three o’clock to go surfing. He might be in Vegas for a while, and he hoped missing his morning ritual of being out on the waves wouldn’t be too much for him. When he was married, every vacation they went on had to be near a beach, and Stanton hadn’t left San Diego since the divorce. When he’d agreed to help Hall, he hadn’t considered that it would mean taking a break from surfing.

  The waves were mediocre, and he sat out on the water for a long time, lying flat with his stomach against the board. Letting his legs dangle in the waves, he let the surf push him back toward shore. The water was murky, but the sun was bright, and there were few clouds. He caught a glimpse of a group of kids getting surfing lessons on the beach, and he smiled as he watched them. He had tried to teach Matt and Jon Junior how to surf several times, but neither had been interested. They were obsessed with football because Melissa’s boyfriend played for the Chargers. She had met him at the gym, where she worked as a personal trainer. He’d heard through mutual friends that the relationship was serious.

  Stanton paddled in softly, stood up when he was twenty feet out, and walked back to the beach. He watched the kids for a while and instinctually scanned around for single men watching them as well. His pleasant thoughts were immediately followed by an unpleasant one of what others could be doing or thinking. His mind had few barriers, and thoughts, both pleasant and horrific, flooded his consciousness every second. Orson was right: he did understand the monsters inside and out.

  He went to the car and opened the passenger door to prevent prying eyes as he changed into jeans and a button-down shirt, then he hopped onto the interstate. He drove slowly, listening to the jazz station, until he pulled into the new SDPD headquarters’s parking lot. He never ceased to be amazed how clean the grounds were kept, considering his own precinct had recently developed a mouse problem. Several times, he had found droppings in his drawers and filing cabinets. Here, trees were planted in a pleasing arrangement, not too many and not too few. He had to sit in his car for a few minutes and prepare. A lot of his ghosts haunted that building.

  When he finally got out of the car, he took his time getting to the front entrance. The layout was exactly the same as it had been the last time he was there, meeting with Ho about a case that had ended with him receiving second-degree burns to over ten percent of his body. He nodded hello to a security guard at the front desk who didn’t nod back, then went to the elevators and hit the button for the fifth floor.

  His heart racing, Stanton stepped off the elevators and had to consciously calm himself. The map he didn’t want to see was still posted. It was titled “Where in the World is Eli Sherman?” Sherman was his former partner, and he’d put two slugs into Stanton when Stanton discovered what Sherman had been hiding from him. In the nearly five years that had passed since Sherman escaped from custody, the map had filled with pushpins marking locations where Sherman had allegedly been spotted. There was currently no active search for him, just a spot on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list.

  “Jon,” Ho said, walking up to him with a cup of coffee in hand, “how you been?”

  “Good.”

  “Did you see the map? We changed the name from Noah to Eli.”

  “I did see that. What happened?”

  “Turned out Noah wasn’t his real name. We thought it was Eli ‘cause of a birth certificate we came across in San Francisco, but that turned out to be fake, too. We don’t know what his real name was. Isn’t that weird? Guy worked here twelve years, and we don’t know his name.”

  “What is it you wanted, Chin?”

  “Come on back to my office. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Stanton followed him down the hall. Ho swiped his badge at a thick door, and it clicked open.

  “You haven’t been out here for some time,” Ho said.

  “No, not since you guys settled the lawsuit with Putnam’s family.”

  “Oh, yeah, that pedophile that jumped off the building, right?”

  Stanton knew Ho remembered, and it bothered him that the other man was so dismissive about it. “Yeah” was all he said.

  “I know you didn’t do anything wrong in that case, and the chief knew it, too. We were just sick of it in the papers all the time, and the decision was made to settle.”

  They walked into his office, which was immaculate, and the smell wood polish lingered in the air. Vivaldi was playing on the computer.

  “Have a seat.”

  Stanton sat across from him and waited for Ho to close the windows on his computer before turning to him.

  “Do you know why we’re sending you to Las Vegas?” Ho asked.

  “Orson promised you something. Either money or resources.”

  “Yeah, he did. They’re cutting us in on their grant. Some county grant they have out there for law enforcement. Orson promised me and the chief that he could secure the grant for SDPD. It has to do with some forensics seminars. They’re going to hold them here and sell tickets to law enforcement around the country. They get a grant to set it up and pay for the speakers. We’re going to split the ticket sales. Should be pretty good for our reputation to host something like that, too.” He took a sip of coffee. “The question I have for you is: does he have that kind of juice? He’s just an assistant sheriff.”

  “Orson’s also the son-in-law of the mayor of Las Vegas. If he says he can do it, he probably can.”

  “Hm. Good to know. So how long you gonna be out there?”

  “I don’t know. I told him I’m just going to look at some evidence.”

  “Well, take as long as you need. We promised full cooperation.”

  “Fine. Anything else?”

  “You know, we used to be friends once.”

  “Once, Chin. Before you hung me out to dry on that Putnam suit. You offered me as a sacrifice so the county wouldn’t have to pay for the lawsuit.”

  “It wasn’t anything personal. It was a lot of money, Jon. We would have done it to any officer. Sometimes you gotta take one for the team.”

  “Is that all? I have to pack.”

  “Yeah, that’s all. You’re dismissed, Detective Stanton.”

  Stanton rose and began to walk out.

  Ho said, “And Jon? Keep your nose clean out there. We need this money. Your suit still ended up costing the county, and we got a budget shortfall now. If this falls through, it’s going to mean people’s jobs.”

  Stanton saw the Rolex watch on Chin’s wrist. “Nice watch.” He turned and walked out without looking back.

  4

  Bill James stood on the balcony of the top-floor suite of the Havana Hotel. The casino was directly below him, covered with a transparent dome, and he watched the people at the tables, letting the dealers slowly suck the life out of them. He looked out at the strip and watched the crowded sidewalks filled with families. He was in his sixties now, and he remembered when Las Vegas was a place for men, where they came to get away from the family, the job, and life. Now it was a vacation spot accommodating the things men used to escape.

  “The times, they are a-changing,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “Sir?” said his assistant, Jaime.

  “Yeah?”

  “They’re ready for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  He straightened his silk Armani tie and checked the gold cufflinks on his shirt before walking back into the suite. The top three suites were reserved for him. He kept one for himself as his home, one for any dignitaries or celebrities he wished to shower with special treatment, and one—this one—he had turned into a boardroom.

  The board of directors for MJF Industries, the parent corporation of Havana Inc. and the true owners of the hotel and casino, had already gathered and were conversing quietly around the twenty-seat mahogany table. The twelve of them were all men of wealth and influence, and many of them—oddly enough, thought James—were extremely obese. With the kind of money they had, he figured they would have the best chefs and personal trainers.

  James took his spot at the head, in front of the nameplate marking it as the chairman’s seat. The CEO, Milton Henry, sat next to him, playing around on his iPhone, and the CFO, Raj Kamal, was on his other side. The board had asked that these two not be present, so James had made a point of having them here.

  Half-eaten Iranian caviar and freshly made pastries were spread out on the table like leftovers from McDonald’s. The board members began pulling out cigars and asking the assistants standing behind them for brandy.

  “I think we’re all accounted for,” James said. “Jaime, stop taking minutes, would you? Thank you. So, we all know what we’re here for. We’ve gone back and forth for the past three months, and it’s decision time.”

  Cal Robertson, an older man with thick glasses and a ridiculous polka-dot bowtie, leaned forward through his cigar smoke. “Bill, we all agreed that we would sleep on this for the next quarter. Calling this meeting was unnecessary. I was in Boca Raton on this fabulous—”

  “We can’t sleep till next quarter, Cal. We need to decide now. This merger is going to secure the future of this casino. It’s going to take us into the next century of entertainment.”

  “We’re making a boatload of money as it is,” Kevin Daugherty chimed in. “Why risk it on a venture that could go belly-up in weeks? Anyway, that’s the way I see it. It’s too much of a risk.”

  “We’re in the business of risk,” James said, “and we’re at the point where we need to bet the house or go home.” He turned to Raj. “What are the financials like?”

  Raj cleared his throat, and an obvious tremor shook his hands as he began to speak. “Um, well, we’ve been losing market share the past three quarters to the bigger casinos. The, ah, gambling demographic has been decreasing over time, as we predicted it would in a bad economy. So, people aren’t gambling as much, and the ones who are have been going to the casinos that give them better comps, like the Mirage and MGM.”

  “How much money did we lose?” James asked.

  “We’ve lost an average of six million per year for the last three years.”

  James looked out over the board for reactions, but he saw none. Some weren’t even paying attention.

  Cal said, “I just don’t see the point. It’ll turn around. It always does. All of us here are taken care of, and so are the upper management. If some low-level shits have to lose their jobs, so be it. Let’s just hang on and see what happens.”

  “What will happen is that we will go bankrupt, gentlemen. We can’t wait. This merger with Sands Corp will change the playing field. Separately, let’s be honest, we’re mediocre casinos, but together, we could have the emerging gambling markets cornered. We’ll establish ourselves as the gambling destination of the world.”

  Cal looked at his fellow board members. “We’ve talked about it, Bill. We’re going to vote against it.”

  “Talked about it? When the fuck did you talk about it? Where was I?”

  “We’re sorry, Bill. The answer’s no.”

  The board members rose and began to file out. James sat, incredulous, watching them as if he were watching aliens on a foreign planet. They were going to allow the company to crumble. They didn’t care—it wasn’t their baby. It was a risky investment for them, and they couldn’t see the future.

  Part of the trouble was that they didn’t understand business. They saw the endeavor as a temporary fix, something they could use to make quick money and then abandon. They didn’t care if they left anything behind because it wouldn’t matter to them anymore. He saw it as something else entirely.

  James turned to his bodyguard, Phil, who was standing behind him. James gestured for him to come over. He came and leaned down next to James.

  “Cal,” James said, “has a mistress he’s keeping in those condos over on Hollywood. You know where they are?”

  Phil nodded.

  “Go knock her around a little bit. Don’t let anyone know it was you.”

  Phil rose without a word and left the room. Milton and Raj sat looking down at the table, pretending they hadn’t heard anything.

  “Bad move?” James asked.

  Milton shrugged. “It’s just a mistress. Will he even care that much?”

  “The old fart’s a sucker for women. He thinks they’re angels, or whatever poetic bullshit he’s bought into. It won’t change the deal, but it’ll fuck with him for a few days.”

  “Won’t he retaliate?” Raj asked.

  “I got nothing in my life for him to retaliate against. We got more pressing problems anyway. What do we do about the board?”

  “They won’t approve this, boss,” Milton said. “There’s no way.”

  “They’re idiots,” James said.

  “No, they’re cowards.”

  James held up his index finger as if a powerful idea had struck him. “You’re right—they are cowards. How do we get them the necessary courage we’re looking for?”

  Raj said, “We need to make the alternative worse. It has to be more costly for them not to go through with the merger than to go through with it.”

  “And how do we do that?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  James exhaled loudly and rubbed his head. He had a massive migraine, and he hadn’t eaten yet that day. “Think about it and get back to me.”

  The two men glanced at each other, rose, and left the room, leaving James alone. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. He realized he no longer lived in the Las Vegas of his youth, the one where cheats were taken to the desert and forced to dig their own graves. There was a different set of rules at play now.

  He pulled out a cigar from one of the silver cases on the table and lit it. He hadn’t given an order like that in a long time. He wondered if that was what he needed, what had been missing in his life. It was a chilling thought, and he pushed it down deep inside him as he sat puffing the cigar and looking out the floor-length windows at the streets below.