“RISE AND shine!”
Bright light flooded my bedroom. I rolled over and groaned as I squinted at the clock, then slammed my eyes shut again.
Seven a.m. Pretty early for Teddie to be sounding so chipper. He usually arose in time for cocktail hour.
“Okay, I can see we need to work on rising first. You look like you were run over and left for dead. Here, this ought to help.” I caught the aroma of coffee and breathed deeply. “It works better if you drink it.”
I pried one eye open, then the other as I pushed myself to a sitting position. Grateful, I grabbed the proffered mug and took a big gulp. I narrowed my eyes. “Are those my Manolos?”
Teddie stepped back, hiked up the hem of his gown and showed me the shoes. “Don’t they just make the whole ensemble? I came down and borrowed them last night before the last show. I would’ve asked, but you weren’t home.”
Teddie was in full makeup, a long black wig, and chandelier earrings that brushed his shoulders. He wore a skintight, silver-sequined strapless sheath with a split on the side that bordered on the obscene, a hot pink boa around his neck—and my Manolos.
“You know how I hate it when you wear my shoes; you stretch them out.”
“Oh, don’t grouse.” He pretended to pout. “I let you borrow my Chanel.”
“You have a point.” I inspected him over my coffee cup. “What keeps that dress up?”
“Modesty.”
“Good line.” That was the second time in the last few hours I’d asked a man what kept his clothing where it was supposed to be. What was up with me lately?
“I stole it from American in Paris.” Teddie, or as the world knew him, the Great Teddie Divine, was the premier female impersonator in Las Vegas. We’d hired him away from the Flamingo, and he packed his new theatre at the Babylon five nights a week, Wednesday through Sunday.
“I thought I’d heard it before.” We both loved old movies. Tuesday nights were movie fest nights at my place. Teddie brought the movies. I made the popcorn—it was the only thing he trusted me to make and not poison him. “Are you trying to channel Cher in that getup?”
“I’ve added her to my act. What do you think?” He pirouetted in front of me.
“Sing something for me.”
Teddie broke into a stirring rendition of “I Got You, Babe.”
After a couple of verses, I held up my hand. “You got her down. But that’s a duet. Who plays Sonny?”
“I was hoping I could talk you into it.”
I snorted. “I’m a foot too tall, and you know I can’t sing. Did you go out looking like that, or is all of this for my entertainment?”
“I did a private party after the late show. We sorta got carried away. I’m just getting home.” He sat on the edge of my bed. “It seems you had a busy night as well. Everyone was talking about the girl and the pirate show. Was it suicide like the morning paper said, quoting you as the source, by the way?”
“Tell you what. Why don’t you go change into the Ted Kowalski I know and love, and let me take a shower? I’ll meet you in the kitchen in twenty minutes.”
“You got it. I’ll bring down some eggs and bacon for breakfast. The stuff in your fridge is green.” With a toss of the boa over his shoulder, he sashayed out of the room in my Manolos.
I had to get him to teach me how to walk in those things.
Twenty minutes later, wrapped in my robe, I cradled a fresh mug of coffee as I stood looking out the picture window in my kitchen. In the daylight, the sun seemed to suck the energy from Las Vegas until the city blended with the desert that surrounded it, where it waited to be reborn again in glitter and high-energy glory when the sun went down.
Fresh-faced, Teddie had traded his gown for a baggy pair of jeans and a Harvard sweatshirt that had seen better days. He wore his platinum hair short and spiked. His blue eyes—bracketed by lashes a girl would kill for—always seemed to dance at some private joke. And when he chose to flash it, his megawatt smile could stop male or female at a hundred yards. With a strong jaw and high cheekbones, I guess he could be considered pretty or handsome, depending on which way he played it.
I noticed his feet were bare, my Manolos conspicuous in their absence, as he busied himself over the stove.
I let him cook for me—he enjoyed it. Besides, I didn’t know any restaurants open at this hour with a delivery service.
He put a plate of steaming eggs and bacon on the counter. “Come and get it.”
I hoisted myself up and onto the high stool. “God, it smells delicious.”
Teddie put a plate for himself down next to mine. “I’d make someone a good wife.”
I tucked into my food as if I hadn’t eaten in months. “No doubt,” I said through a mouthful of eggs.
“How about me being yours?”
“I could never marry a man with better legs than me.”
When Teddie played around like this, I never knew whether he was kidding or not. We were such good friends. Why screw it up?
“Okay, time to dish.” Teddie sidled onto the stool beside me. “I want to know everything. What do you know about the girl who took the dive?”
Relieved that he’d changed the subject, I launched in. “Her name was Lyda Sue Stalnaker. I didn’t know her that well, but she used to stop and gab when she caught me in the casino or Delilah’s. She was from some small town in west Texas, and I think she was a little lonely.”
“How’d a kid from small town Texas end up in Vegas?” Teddie asked with his mouth full.
“Same story you’ve heard a million times. She screwed up in high school, got knocked up. That screwed up her relationship with her folks. The abortion screwed her up.” I passed my cup to Teddie. “Pour me another, would you? You’re closest to the pot.”
Teddie freshened my coffee.
“She came to Vegas to be a dancer and ended up a hooker. All in all, she was sick of screwing…up or otherwise. At least that’s what she told me last night. She wanted to go home.”
“So, why do you think she jumped?” Clearly engrossed in the story, Teddie cupped his chin in his hand, his elbow resting on the counter. He did love his gossip, but if I didn’t want him spreading it all over, he wouldn’t.
“I’m not sure she jumped.”
Teddy straightened, his eyes grew big. “What are you saying?”
“I think she was pushed.”
At 8:50 in the morning, the casino resembled a beauty queen after an all-nighter—tired, bedraggled, sullied. The cleaning crew ran vacuums and spot-cleaned the carpet. The smell of cigarette smoke, now stale, lingered, mixing with the odor of spilled liquor and other, nastier things I didn’t want to think about. A few bleary-eyed stragglers, cigarettes dangling from their lips, fed coins into the slots, but for the most part the casino was empty.
I stood in front of my office door, rooting in my Birkin for my keys; the damn things always managed to hide in the bowels of the bag. I had found one half-eaten, slightly stale Oreo, three pieces of used gum wrapped in tiny bits of paper, and one squashed protein bar left over from my very brief personal-trainer phase, when my fingers brushed metal. “Ah ha! There you are, you little buggers.” I was leaning over to insert the appropriate key in the lock when the door flew open.
I leapt back.
Miss Patterson stood there looking at me with that damn inscrutable expression of hers. “The door was open.”
“I thought I told you I didn’t want to see your face for twelve hours.” I brushed past her.
She followed me into my office. “And good morning to you, too.” She took my Birkin and deposited it in the closet. “You have an appointment…” she glanced at the clock “…in three minutes, with the Most Reverend Peterson J. Peabody. Security has been calling. They want to know if they should give Reverend Peabody his clothes or if they should bring him ‘as is’.”
“The Most Reverend?”
Miss Patterson nodded, this time a fleeting wisp of a smile on her face.
“Oh, give him his clothes. I’m evil, but I’m not mean. Besides, it’s way too early to see Reverend Peabody in his altogether again.”
“I’ll get you some coffee.”
“After Reverend Peabody, I don’t have anything else until two, right?”
“Right, the Beautiful Jeremy Whitlock at two, then your friends from Hollywood are due to arrive around three, with the Trendmakers shortly thereafter.”
“Ah, yes, how could I forget?” I walked over to my closet and opened the door. “Let me know when Reverend Peabody arrives.”
I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the closet door. Teddie had kept me until the last possible minute. I’d had to race to get ready and out the door. I definitely looked like I’d had three hours of sleep, but I was semi-presentable in my new Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress and sassy little sandals—another day saved by good clothes. The hair was a bit wild, and the makeup—well, I’d have to get Teddie’s help there, too.
Satisfied I wasn’t going to scare anyone, I shut the closet and retreated behind my desk. Miss Patterson, bless her, had set a cup of steaming java next to a stack of papers sitting there—I didn’t remember the pile being so high last night. I grabbed the papers and a pen, hunched over my desk, and started in on the day.
I had almost made it through the lot when my intercom buzzed and Miss Patterson announced the Most Reverend Peabody’s arrival. I depressed the intercom switch. “Show him in.” I rose and smoothed my dress as I stepped around my desk to greet my guest. I had never met a Most Reverend before.
As the door opened, I extended my hand. “Reverend Peabody.” I tried to keep my eyes focused on his face. For some reason, I was a bit embarrassed. Sorta like when you face a one-night stand the morning after.
I already knew he was a big man, but he carried all that weight on a frame about the size of mine. Like a fallen halo, a neat fringe of gray hair circled his head. Apparently, Security had given him a comb but not a razor—day-old stubble dotted his jowls. Dressed in khakis, a button-down, and Nikes, he looked every inch a respectable patron from out of town. No self-respecting Las Vegan would wear that getup unless he hadn’t yet adopted the local customs or he was on his way to play golf. We’re a bit edgier here in Sin City. Or tackier, depending on your point of view.
He shook my hand, but wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Call me Jeep.” His voice was soft, almost childlike—a far cry from the fire and brimstone I was expecting.
“Jeep?”
He shrugged. “I was always…big. In high school, they used to say I was as big as a Jeep. The name stuck.”
“I see.” Stifling a smile, I motioned to the sofa on the far side of my office, away from the windows. “Take a seat.”
If it was possible for a four-hundred-pound man to slink, then the Most Reverend “Jeep” Peabody slunk over to the sofa and lowered himself to perch on the edge. He fidgeted with a button on his shirt.
I took the chair across from him, taking a deep breath and letting it out while I looked at my guest. “You gave us quite a scare last night.”
This time, his eyes met mine. His eyes were bloodshot and blue, yet kind. “You’re not going to throw me out of the hotel, are you?”
“Of course not. It’s my job to take care of our guests. You seemed to have gotten in over your head. Did you just tie one on and go out the wrong door looking for the bathroom? You wouldn’t believe how many times that’s happened.”
He turned his wedding band around and around. “I’ve gotten myself in a bit of a bind. Thought I could work it out. Guess I was wrong.”
“What sort of a bind?”
“It’s pretty simple really. My wife and I are swingers—Trendmakers. You know the group?”
I nodded, my expression unchanged. I’d learned long ago books couldn’t be judged by their covers—especially in Vegas.
“We’ve been members for years, but we’ve been discreet.” He paused. “Come to think of it, I never register as Reverend Peabody. How did you know my name?”
“It was given to me. I believe our front-desk manager got it from your wife, who called frantically looking for you.” I held up my hand, stopping him before he asked. “We didn’t give her any information other than that you were sleeping.”
He nodded; I saw relief in his eyes.
“Why don’t you continue with your story?”
“Well, someone got wind of our involvement in the group and started blackmailing me. I can tell you the church would take a dim view of a swinging lifestyle, and my parishioners…well it’s pretty hypocritical on my part to preach monogamy, then not live it.”
“I see what you mean.”
“I know I’m taking quite a risk, but I’d never quit the group; they’ve done wonders for my self-esteem. I never knew how many women would jump at the chance for a roll in the hay with a big guy.”
I really wished he hadn’t said that—that whole visual thing again.
“They really were a godsend.”
“God works in mysterious ways,” I countered, pretty much at sea. “Now, can you tell me anything about your blackmailer? For instance, male or female?”
“Female. I’d never met her before.”
“So, what happened last night?”
“I’d been attending a bishops’ conference in San Fran. My wife wasn’t with me; she’s meeting me here this afternoon. I thought I would come a day early and arrange a meeting with the blackmailer, try to pay her off or talk her out of it. I don’t know what I was thinking. We met in my room, 10123.”
“What time?”
“Ten last night.”
“The blackmailer actually showed?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Blackmailers usually try to keep their identity a secret. Was she on time?”
“Ten o’clock, sharp.”
I depressed the intercom. “Miss Patterson, could you please call Security. Tell them I want to see the tapes of the main elevator bank and the service elevators in the main tower. Also any tape of the tenth floor in the southwest wing. The time frame I’m interested in is around ten p.m. last night.”
“Right away.”
I released the intercom switch and turned my attention back to Reverend Peabody. “Everything in this hotel is videotaped.”
“Everything?” He blanched.
“Pretty much.” I watched him wilt. “Now, go on.”
“There’s not much more. I had ordered a bottle of wine. She insisted on pouring. We talked.” He paused and shut his eyes. “She laughed at me—I do remember that, but I don’t remember much else until I awoke in a strange room with no clothes on. And then they brought me here.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him his blackmail problem was probably much worse now. I’d bet my reputation that whoever met him last night had taken some interesting pictures after she slipped him the mickey. “Was the blackmailer working alone?”
“Couldn’t say for sure, but I got the distinct impression she had an accomplice. She was nervous, and almost apologetic. Not at all what I thought she’d be.”
“What did she look like?”
“Medium height, say five-foot-six or so. Trim with blue eyes. Her hair was blonde, but it looked like a wig.”
I rose. Reverend Peabody followed my lead. “Reverend…”
“Jeep, please.”
“Jeep. Let me work on this a bit from my end, see what I can find out. I assume you would recognize your blackmailer if you saw her again?”
“You bet.”
I led him toward the door. “I’ll be in touch. If you think of anything else, call me, okay? I’ll give you one of my cards.”
“Sure. Don’t guess you could help me with my wife? She’s going to be pretty perturbed at me for not calling her last night. I’m sure she stayed up till all hours trying to track me down.”
The way the guy said “perturbed” made me think the woman was going to start lopping off vital parts the next time she saw him.
“Already taken care of. When she called last night, and we finally put you and her together, I had the front desk tell her half our phone system was on the fritz, that you were indeed in your room, but you were sleeping and they didn’t want to disturb you. I think she bought it; I haven’t heard otherwise. If I were you, I’d give her a call. Maybe apologize for not being able to call out. Do you have a cell?”
He shook his head.
“You’re probably the only man on the face of the planet who doesn’t, but the story should hold water then.”
“I owe you one. How can I repay you?”
I ushered him out the door, stuffing my card in his hand as he was leaving.
“We’ll think of something.”
I turned to Miss Patterson. “Got anything for me?”
She adjusted her glasses on the end of her nose and consulted a notepad, which she still had to hold at arm’s length to read. “Three suites with appropriate welcome gifts are prepared for your friends from Hollywood. The menu is set for their awards dinner—you are Mr. Jones’s date, by the way. CNBC has been given the Golden Fleece Room. They are setting up their equipment as we speak. You have a meeting with the Beautiful Jeremy Whitlock at two. The Trendmakers are coming by bus this afternoon around four. We will have refreshments for them in Delilah’s.”
“Another day at the zoo.” I blew at a strand of hair tickling my left eye. “Call Bert at the dealership; ask him if he could lend me something fast. I’ll have it back by two.”
I stepped around the wall that separated the reception area from a small coffee bar and opened the fridge. Raising my voice to be heard, I continued. “Call Human Resources. Tell them I need a couple of copies of our file photos of Felicia Reilly and the Weasel. On second thought, get me a couple of Paxton Dane also.” I grabbed two bottles of water, shutting the fridge with my foot. I rounded the corner just as the front door opened and Paxton Dane himself stepped through. I was glad he hadn’t arrived a few seconds earlier.
“I caught you. Good,” he said. “I have some news, and you’re not going to like it.”
“I knew this day was going too well.” I stuffed the water bottles in my Birkin and slung it over my shoulder. My baseball cap hung on the hat rack in the corner. I grabbed it and slapped it on my head as I handed my Nextel to Miss Patterson. “You know the drill,” I said to her.
“Don’t call you unless someone has a gun pointed to my head.”
“Right.” I turned my attention back to Dane, who was waiting not so patiently. “Now, what’s got your knickers in a twist?”
He cocked an eyebrow at me. I wish he’d quit doing that.
“You know those security tapes from last night you requested? The ones of the elevators and tenth floor?”
“Of course.”
“Well, they’re missing.”
“Missing?”
“We looked everywhere. They’re gone.”
“I see.” It seemed I’d been saying that a lot lately, when in fact, I didn’t see at all.
Finally, Dane noticed the hat on my head and the bag on my shoulder. “Going somewhere?”
“For a drive. Want to come?” The Big Boss had said to keep him close. Besides, we needed to talk.
“You’re leaving so early in the duty day?” he said with a smile. This time the smile reached his eyes.
“Call me irresponsible.”
“I have a security briefing in a few minutes,” Dane said, looking a bit torn.
“You can miss it. I’ll fill you in.”
The phone rang and Miss Patterson picked up. She listened for a bit, then said, “That was Bert. He said, and I quote, “‘your chariot awaits.’”
I grabbed another hat off the hat rack and handed it to Dane. “Here. If you’re going to play hooky with me, you’ll need this.”
My chariot turned out to be a bright red Ferrari F-430 Spider with the roof retracted. I slipped behind the wheel. “You’re riding shotgun.”
Dane whistled low. “Some ride. Apparently your salary has a few more zeros than mine.”
“There are some perks to working for The Big Boss.”
“You must do more for him than I do.”
“No, I’ve just been at it longer.” I looked at Dane, trying to determine whether he meant the implied insult or not.
Apparently oblivious to his faux pas, he was consumed by the car. His eyes shone with lust as he ran his fingers over the wood accents and the fine leather. Whoever said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach had never watched a grown man with a Ferrari.
We climbed in and pulled the seat belts tight. I hit the start button and the engine caught with a low growl. “I’ve got a stop to make on our way out of town. Hope you don’t mind.”
I threw it into gear and gunned the engine, drowning out his reply.
Smokin’ Joes XXX adult video parlor and sex emporium occupied a warehouse that encompassed an entire city block on Tropicana just west of Interstate 15. Las Vegans referred to the interstate, which bisected the town north to south, as “the 15,” and those who lived on one side rarely ventured to the other, for reasons I never understood.
Several women leaned against the building as I pulled into the parking lot. They were dressed in boots, tiny tubes of spandex—one for the bottom half and one for the top—heavy makeup, and hollow stares. The car did seem to pique their interest a bit. Or maybe it was the combination of the car and the male sitting beside me. “This’ll only take a minute.”
“This was the stop you needed to make?” Dane asked, unable to keep a straight face.
“Just sit. I’ll be back.” I maneuvered the car into a space and killed the engine.
“Want me to come in with you?” he said, as he flashed me a wicked grin. “I don’t mind sharing a booth.”
“Perhaps another time.” I couldn’t believe I said that. I pushed myself up and out of the low-riding car.
“I’ll look forward to it, but in the interest of time today, I could help you shop.”
The hookers had left their wall and were sidling over to the car.
“Or maybe,” he continued with a leer. “I can do my shopping out here.”
“Suit yourself,” I shot back. “But I’ll only be a few minutes and, unless you’re Superman, you won’t get your money’s worth.”
As I passed the women, I said, “Ladies, the car is off limits. Anything else that interests you is fair game.”
Smokin’ Joe himself was behind the counter when I walked in. Native American, rail thin, Joe had soulful brown eyes, thin lips that never curled into a smile, and tattoos that covered almost every inch of his exposed forearms. He even had “MOM” tattooed on the three middle fingers of his left hand, one letter on each finger. A hand-rolled cigarette dangled from his mouth. I suspected he’d done more than a little hard time. For some reason, Smokin’ Joe seemed to like me. I tried not to be bothered by that.
He cocked his head toward the rear of the store. “New stuff’s in back.” He rooted through some papers on his counter and extracted one, which he extended toward me. “Here’s a list of the good ones. Didn’t pull them cuz I didn’t know you was comin’.”
I took the proffered list. “No problem. I’ll get them myself. Thanks.”
The back of the store was a city block away. I took the outside aisle, the one that separated the row of private viewing booths that lined the exterior wall from racks and racks of dildos of all shapes and sizes, vibrators, and other foreign objects. For a small fee, on top of the normal movie rental charge, you could rent one of the viewing booths by the hour to watch the movie of your choice and do whatever, out of sight of the other patrons.
Out of sight, but not out of hearing—a fact I discovered as I walked past the third booth, where a woman dressed in scrubs waited outside. Moans and groans and an occasional scream emanated from the booth. My cheeks flushed as I walked past and stepped around the waiting woman.
I’d made it a few steps before I stopped and turned around. My mother always told me my curiosity would get the better of me someday. “I know I’m going to be sorry I asked this, but why is there a line for this booth?”
“Oh, I’m not waiting to go inside,” the woman said. “I’m a midwife, and my client is two weeks past her due date. It’s an old trick of my trade. Sexual arousal seems to stimulate the birthing process. She was miserable, so we thought we’d give it a try.”
“I had no idea.” I listened to the moans coming from the booth. They were coming quicker now. “Seems to be working.” I turned to go, then stopped. “What movie is she watching?” The woman gave me the name. I checked my list for it as I hurried toward the back of the store. Bingo.
When I passed her again, my arms laden with DVDs, a male voice tinged with panic shouted, “The baby’s coming!” Better the baby than his wife at this point, I guess. The midwife disappeared inside the booth. A man stepped out as she went in. Pale and shaken, he took her place as sentry.
All I could think of was the story that kid was going to have when he or she grew up. Being born in an adult video store had a certain panache, a je ne sais quoi, if you will. I wondered if the parents would actually share the story.
I deposited my choices on the counter in front of Smokin’ Joe. “Put it on my account, okay?” I was the only person I knew who ran a tab at an adult video store.
Outside the building, the hookers were again leaning against the wall. “That boy’s got a bite,” one of them hissed at me as I passed.
“You scared the locals,” I said to Dane as I nodded toward the hookers.
“I was in the Navy. Hookers, I can handle.”
I dropped my bag with XXX in big red lettering on the side in Paxton Dane’s lap as I got into the car.
He took a peek inside, then shut the bag and looked at me with a thinly disguised leer. “You are a surprise.”
“Those aren’t for me.” I started the car, gunned the engine, and piloted us out of the parking lot. “Those are for my mother.”