ELEVEN

Just about then Pete texted me. We arranged to meet in the lobby.

Rita had a meeting to go to, but she made us promise to save a day for her. “There’s so much to show you,” she said. “And tell you. About your mom and me, when we were together that summer.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” I said, returning her hug.

The restaurant was still full when we left. I found Pete in the lobby, staring at murals.

I pointed to one. “There’s a crow sitting on that tombstone.”

“Why are you so superstitious about crows?” asked Pete, wrapping a big arm around my shoulders. “A bird can’t predict when something bad is going to happen.”

I looked at Nico and he looked at me.

“Let the poor Irish lad keep his innocence,” said Nico.

We both nodded.

“Ready for a bit of sightseeing?” said Pete.

“You bet!” I said. “I haven’t seen anything except the inside of this hotel yet.”

“And there’s so much!” Nico practically vibrated with excitement. “There’s the Venetian, Caesars Palace—”

“New York-New York,” said Pete. “Flamingo. The Eiffel Tower Restaurant—”

“Golden Nugget in the old town, and don’t forget the Mob Museum,” said Nico.

“They have a Mob Museum?” I shivered. “Not going there, Nico. No way, no how.”

“Afraid of finding your photo on the wall?” Pete laughed at his own joke.

That’s exactly what I was afraid of. After the Lone Rearranger episode in October and my growing rep in The Hammer, it was a distinct possibility. And if not me, then several other people in my family whom Pete had met. But no way was I telling him.

“Let’s get going then!” said Nico.

We linked arms like Dorothy, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man, and went out to follow the yellow brick road. The one lined with Christmas trees.

Three hours later we had seen a lot of the sights. We had wandered through the lobbies of most of the big hotels. I’d poked my head into several swish stores. Even I had to admit that the Christmas decorations added to the Vegas charm.

“You can never have too many lights,” said Nico, wagging a finger. He was a noted expert in bling.

“Speaking of which, we have to come back when it’s dark to see the light show at Bellagio,” said Pete. “That reminds me! I have something for us to do tonight.”

Nico grabbed my arm. “Velvet Elvis paintings,” he whispered, pointing to a street vendor.

They looked pretty much like the one Frank had given me.

“Hey, I meant to ask you about that,” said Pete. “There’s an Elvis painting in our room. Where did it come from?”

Whoops! He didn’t know about Frank and the painting. I wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to know.

“Yeah, about that,” I said, stalling. “Tell you when we’re alone.” I made it seem as if I didn’t want Nico to know. Pete would back off then. And when he and I were alone, I knew ways to distract him.

“I think I’ve seen enough casinos,” said Nico. “Time for coffee?”

I was famished. You can walk forever on the strip. Pete still had an athlete’s constitution. Nico seemed to be mainly just nervous energy fueled by caffeine. But I was a typical Italian gal. Show me the buffet and stand back.

“Food!” I yelled out, like one would say mercy! “I need real food. Nothing stupid like a salad.”

Pete chortled. He always gets a kick out of my appetite.

We were outside the Mirage. California Pizza Kitchen was beckoning, like the promise of water in the desert. I dragged the guys to a table for four and plunked my purse on the spare chair. A few minutes later, we had ordered.

“So,” I said, looking across the table at Pete. “You have something for us to do tonight?”

Pete reached into his pocket. “Front-row seats to the Manipula the Magician show!”

Nico gasped. “Manipula? OH. MY. GOD. He’s the best! Pete, you are awesome!”

Pete looked pretty pleased with himself. “I even got three tickets,” he said.

“Well, it wouldn’t be right to leave Gina behind,” said Nico.

Pizza was yummy. We ate every bit of two pies and then headed out to the strip. Things were starting to liven up. Vegas by day was a happening place. At night and at Christmas, it was off the charts. Colored lights sparkled in all directions. It was like walking through a kaleidoscope.

The sidewalks were crammed. I kept a firm hold on Pete’s arm with one hand. With the other I held my handbag close to my body.

Manipula the Magician was playing in a theater in one of the main hotels. It was about a ten-minute walk from the pizza place. Easy to find. Everything is well marked in Vegas.

Piles of people were pouring into the theater. Pete surrendered the lower half of the tickets to the usher. We made our way down an aisle to the front row. It was easy to find our seats. Yet another cool thing about being in the front row.

I sat down between Pete and Nico. This was great. Distraction was just what I needed. For the next two hours, I wasn’t going to think about Amazon fraud, online impersonators, muddy auras or anything sketchy.

Tomorrow I was getting married! I smiled at Pete. He squeezed my hand.

The first hour went by in whirl of stunning acts. Nico had been right. Manipula was brilliant. No way could I figure out how he did those illusions. We clapped madly.

As the applause died down, the great magician said, “Thank you! Thank you. Now for the next part of the show, I need an assistant. Someone from the audience. Let’s see…”

Manipula walked purposefully down the center steps of the stage. His gaze traveled along the front row and stopped. His eyes were huge as he lifted his arm.

“You.” He pointed at me. “You’re perfect.”

Pete snorted. “Obviously, you don’t know her well.”

I whacked him with the back of my hand.

“He means you, Gina.” Nico coaxed me with a hand on my shoulder. “Go, go, go!”

Manipula reached forward with his palm open, like you do when meeting a new dog.

“Come,” he said gently. “Don’t be afraid.”

Wouldn’t you know he said the exact words that would bring me to my feet. Afraid? I was afraid of spiders and snakes. And maybe Aunt Miriam, who was scarier than any of the men in our family. But not Vegas entertainers dressed in funny gowns and capes. No sir. It took more than a Vegas stage to scare me.

I took Manipula’s hand. Together we walked up the steps as the crowd cheered. I heard Nico’s wolf whistle rise above the din.

The magician led me over to the standing mic. His face was rather ghastly with all that stage makeup. But his smile was warm and encouraging. When the applause had died down, Manipula let go of my hand. “Give them a big smile,” he said to me.

I looked into the crowd and smiled. It was impossible to see anyone in the audience. The lights were too bright.

Manipula said, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Gina Gallo,” I said clearly into the mic.

“GINA?” Three voices rang out from the crowd.

I stood paralyzed in front of the blinding lights.

“Gina? Pumpkin?” cried a shaky male voice.

“RUN!” yelled Nico.

I couldn’t see him, but that didn’t matter. When Nico tells me to run, I scram without thinking.

I was down the center-stage steps in seconds. Then I took off up the aisle. I could hear Nico behind me, saying encouraging things like, “Run, run, run, run!”

Unfortunately, Nico didn’t give any instructions on where to run to. So I just kept going, into the lobby and out the door. At the sidewalk I bolted left.

“No, no, no!” yelled Nico. He slapped my shoulder, and we stopped momentarily. “Wrong way.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me along Las Vegas Boulevard. At the first intersection he steered me into the side street. A taxi stood waiting. Nico threw up an arm to flag it, and we tumbled in.

“The Necropolis,” said Nico to the driver. “And can you let us off around the back, please.”

I had to smile. Nico may have been Mob, but he was Canadian Mob. They know their manners. They always say sorry before they whack you.

Ten minutes later Nico opened the door of my hotel room.

“See? I knew this extra room card would come in handy,” he said.

“Crap!” I slapped the palm of my hand on the wall. “I left my purse behind.”

“Pete will bring it.” Nico pushed the door open.

“Crap!” I said. “I left Pete behind.”

“Not for long,” said Nico.

He was right. We didn’t have to wait long.

I lay on the bed with my legs hanging over the side. Nico was draped dramatically across the only easy chair in the room.

The card reader clicked. Pete entered the room. When the door closed, he leaned back against it. He dropped my purse to the floor and crossed his arms against his chest.

“Will one of you kindly tell me what’s going on?” he said quietly.

So we did. At least, most of it. I told him about the Amazon scam, and the Sugar Daddy-dot-com identity theft. Nico recounted the scene with Jerry. We both assured Pete that Stoner was working to get things resolved on the Internet front.

“So those guys at the show tonight were expecting to meet you here in Vegas,” he said, shaking his head. “Poor schmucks. Wonder how many people this fake Gina Gallo scammed?”

“At least six that we know of,” Nico said. “Probably more.”

I just groaned.

“Anything else I should know?” asked Pete.

Nico looked at me. I shook my head. No sense alarming Pete any further.

“Can we call it a day?” I said. “I’m bushed.”

Nico said goodnight and left. I got up to brush my teeth.

Pete followed me into the crypt. “I won’t rest until you are legally Mrs. Malone. Far too many suitors waiting in the wings here.”

I pointed my toothbrush at him. “It’s my protection against showgirls.”

He laughed and encircled me with his arms.