Read Online Innocent in Las Vegas by A. R. Winters, Amazon.com (firm) - Free Book Online
Authors: A. R. Winters, Amazon.com (firm)
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The other side was Stone’s business card, with his business name and office phone number.
“Call me if you’re in trouble,” he said, “And call Carla to schedule a lesson.”
I tucked the card into my purse and said, “I’m fine, but thanks.”
“I see you’re not wearing stilettos right now.”
Touché. The man might look like he was made of wax and sounded almost like that too, but he wasn’t stupid. I nodded and said, “I’ll call her.”
“Right. The next thing you’ll need is a weapons permit.”
“I’m not carrying a gun.”
Stone looked at me like I’d lost my mind, but all he said was, “Suit yourself.”
“I will.” I didn’t believe in gun violence and I wasn’t about to contribute to it.
Stone stood up and looked at Sophia. “Good seeing you again.”
Then he turned and left.
I heard the door shut behind him and said, “He doesn’t talk much, does he?”
Sophia shook her head. “He does have a soothing presence, though. I’m glad you’re staying on the case.”
I wanted to tell her that I’d been calmed down by the hot chocolate’s presence, not Stone’s, but a few minutes after he left us, I was no longer so sure. I finished my hot chocolate and said goodbye to Sophia.
As I drove away, I felt my uneasiness creeping back and wondered how long Beady Eyes’ and Mr. Beard’s injuries would keep them out of commission. For all I knew, they might be quick healers who would be feeling fine by the following day. And whoever they were working for probably had more beefy men at his disposal.
I made a quick U-turn, drove into a side street and made a full circle around the block before heading back onto the expressway. Despite my fancy driving and the twists and turns I made, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being followed.
Chapter Ten
After all the troubles of the day, my night-shift at the casino went surprisingly well. It was just the kind of pleasantness I needed – by some miracle the tables I dealt at didn’t have any drunks, super-grouches or uber-unpleasant people.
I went to bed feeling hopeful and woke up the next morning feeling just as optimistic. I called Vanessa Conigliani straight away and when she answered, I introduced myself as a detective investigating the Ethan Becker murder.
“Would it be possible to meet up some time today to discuss the case?” I asked, and there was a slight pause.
“Around what time?”
“Whenever’s convenient for you, Mrs. Conigliani.”
She sighed. “Oh, what the hell. Can you come over in two hours?”
Two hours would be a bit of a rush. I hadn’t had breakfast yet and I’d been looking forward to a relaxing morning. But this woman was the last person on the list Sophia had given me and I really needed to talk to her. “Of course.” I said. “Will you be at the Summerlin house?”
“Yes,” she said. I repeated the address Sophia had given me, just to verify that it was right.
We hung up and I rushed to make my morning coffee and get dressed. I was sure Vanessa Conigliani would be a sweet woman, but just in case, I wore my heavy cocktail ring again and my second-favorite pair of stilettos.
Mrs Conigliani’s house was a modest Californian bungalow on the other side of Vegas. It seemed warm and inviting on the outside, with a cute, desert-scaped garden; when I rang the bell, Vanessa answered within a few seconds.
She was a slim, petite woman in her late fifties and I hoped I would look so fabulous when I reached her age. Her hair was blonde with a few subtle highlights, cut to just below chin-length, and she wore black capri pants and a white silk top.
“This is a gorgeous place,” I said, looking around. The living area was open-space, done in sleek modern tones of white and silver, with lowlying cream leather couches and fancy abstract artwork on the walls.
“Thanks,” she said, “I redid it recently. It used to be done up more retro.”
I nodded. “Retro is in these days, but I love
“Call me if you’re in trouble,” he said, “And call Carla to schedule a lesson.”
I tucked the card into my purse and said, “I’m fine, but thanks.”
“I see you’re not wearing stilettos right now.”
Touché. The man might look like he was made of wax and sounded almost like that too, but he wasn’t stupid. I nodded and said, “I’ll call her.”
“Right. The next thing you’ll need is a weapons permit.”
“I’m not carrying a gun.”
Stone looked at me like I’d lost my mind, but all he said was, “Suit yourself.”
“I will.” I didn’t believe in gun violence and I wasn’t about to contribute to it.
Stone stood up and looked at Sophia. “Good seeing you again.”
Then he turned and left.
I heard the door shut behind him and said, “He doesn’t talk much, does he?”
Sophia shook her head. “He does have a soothing presence, though. I’m glad you’re staying on the case.”
I wanted to tell her that I’d been calmed down by the hot chocolate’s presence, not Stone’s, but a few minutes after he left us, I was no longer so sure. I finished my hot chocolate and said goodbye to Sophia.
As I drove away, I felt my uneasiness creeping back and wondered how long Beady Eyes’ and Mr. Beard’s injuries would keep them out of commission. For all I knew, they might be quick healers who would be feeling fine by the following day. And whoever they were working for probably had more beefy men at his disposal.
I made a quick U-turn, drove into a side street and made a full circle around the block before heading back onto the expressway. Despite my fancy driving and the twists and turns I made, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being followed.
Chapter Ten
After all the troubles of the day, my night-shift at the casino went surprisingly well. It was just the kind of pleasantness I needed – by some miracle the tables I dealt at didn’t have any drunks, super-grouches or uber-unpleasant people.
I went to bed feeling hopeful and woke up the next morning feeling just as optimistic. I called Vanessa Conigliani straight away and when she answered, I introduced myself as a detective investigating the Ethan Becker murder.
“Would it be possible to meet up some time today to discuss the case?” I asked, and there was a slight pause.
“Around what time?”
“Whenever’s convenient for you, Mrs. Conigliani.”
She sighed. “Oh, what the hell. Can you come over in two hours?”
Two hours would be a bit of a rush. I hadn’t had breakfast yet and I’d been looking forward to a relaxing morning. But this woman was the last person on the list Sophia had given me and I really needed to talk to her. “Of course.” I said. “Will you be at the Summerlin house?”
“Yes,” she said. I repeated the address Sophia had given me, just to verify that it was right.
We hung up and I rushed to make my morning coffee and get dressed. I was sure Vanessa Conigliani would be a sweet woman, but just in case, I wore my heavy cocktail ring again and my second-favorite pair of stilettos.
Mrs Conigliani’s house was a modest Californian bungalow on the other side of Vegas. It seemed warm and inviting on the outside, with a cute, desert-scaped garden; when I rang the bell, Vanessa answered within a few seconds.
She was a slim, petite woman in her late fifties and I hoped I would look so fabulous when I reached her age. Her hair was blonde with a few subtle highlights, cut to just below chin-length, and she wore black capri pants and a white silk top.
“This is a gorgeous place,” I said, looking around. The living area was open-space, done in sleek modern tones of white and silver, with lowlying cream leather couches and fancy abstract artwork on the walls.
“Thanks,” she said, “I redid it recently. It used to be done up more retro.”
I nodded. “Retro is in these days, but I love
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