Ultimate Concealer, A Toni Diamond Mystery: A Toni Diamond Mystery (Toni Diamond Mysteries) (20 page)

The tape. She needed to see that surveillance tape again.

She’d been so certain the woman in it was Suzie that she hadn’t studied it as closely as she should have.

What about the hands? She’d been trying so hard to see a face that she hadn’t really studied the hands. As dumb as Suzie was she doubted she’d have worn the big honking diamond if she was going to kill her lover. But hands could tell a lot about a person’s identity. She’d been so stupid not to pay more attention.

She only hoped that Buddy was on duty again in the surveillance department. She really didn’t want to have to pull out her fake business card and drag out the whole PI routine again.

She thought the chances of bumping into Myrna or Milo were slim, but she kept her eyes open anyway.

As she skulked her way down the corridor to where the surveillance room was, she thought she felt — she wasn’t quite sure – a change in the atmosphere. If she had an internal barometer, it was telling her that a storm was approaching.

She picked up the pace, feeling a sense of urgency. But when she rounded the corner to where the room was, she stopped in her tracks.

“Oh, no,” she moaned, deep in her throat.

Cops. There were cops swarming like hornets trying to build a nest. In and out of Buddy’s office. She crept closer and peeked through the hornet sea and felt as though a million hornets stung her at once.

The body hadn’t been moved yet.

The pudgy guy who’d watched surveillance footage with her as though it were a date at the movies was sprawled, his glasses crooked on his face and a stunned expression twisting his mouth.

He was still in the office chair on rolling wheels, slumped as though he was sleeping on the job.

Blood stained his checked shirt.

No, no, NO! She wanted to rewind time the way he’d rewound those tapes, to a time before she’d come in here. Before she’d put that poor man at risk.

Luke was right. She had no business meddling. Now she’d got a man killed. She stumbled backward, away from the throng before anyone noticed her. Coming from the other direction was a stretcher and some men in plain clothes.

A young woman in a security uniform sobbed. She was sitting on the floor in the corridor, a hundred feet or so from the chaos. Her back was against the wall and she had her knees pulled up so she could rest her head on them. A sitting fetal position.

Toni walked up and sat down beside her. Silently, she passed her a tissue.

“Thanks,” the woman said, sniffling, then blowing her nose.

Toni passed over the whole pack of tissues. “Did you find him?” Amazingly her voice worked and she sounded normal. Her words echoed in her head as though someone else were speaking them.

The young woman couldn’t be more than twenty-five. She had red hair and when she looked up Toni could see that the crying was making her fair complexion blotch. She nodded.

“What time was that?”

“About a . . . a half hour ago.” She pushed both hands up and scrubbed at her wet cheeks. Her hands trembled.

Probably a little longer, Toni guessed. Trauma, as she’d discovered herself, could mess with your sense of time.

“Was he exactly as you found him?”

The girl shuddered. “God, yes. I didn’t touch him.”

“Why did you go to that room?”

“What?” She sniffed. “Oh, sorry. One of the cameras wasn’t working in the casino.” Fresh tears fell as she said, “Buddy always fixes them.”

She rubbed the girl’s arm as she’d do if one of Tiffany’s friends came to her with a problem. “Could you see whether anything was missing? Or damaged?”

“No. I saw—him and I freaked. I called 9-1-1. Well, I screamed a little first.”

“I’d have screamed too. You didn’t see anyone walking away? Anything suspicious?”

The girl looked at her with big, tear-drenched eyes. “You mean, like the murderer? Oh, my God. No.”

She didn’t know what else to ask. In her gut, Toni already knew what was missing or destroyed. She only hoped Luke had convinced the local cops to get to the footage first.

She contemplated asking to see the detective in charge, but when she considered the matter she didn’t see the point. Besides, she was feeling a little woozy.

She thanked the girl who said, “Can I go now?”

Toni blinked at her. “Don’t you need to give the police your statement?”

The girl gaped. “I thought you were the police.”

Chapter Eighteen

“You can avoid reality, but you cannot avoid the consequences of avoiding reality.”

— Ayn Rand

Toni made her way out onto the hot, crowded sidewalk. She still felt dizzy. To her knowledge, she had never caused anyone’s death before but she was pretty sure that if it hadn’t been for her, Buddy would still be cracking his knuckles.

She slipped into a fast food place. Ordered an iced tea and sat in a scooped plastic seat clearly designed for the butt of a child and tried to focus. She found her hands were shaking, so she had to hold on to the huge plastic cup with two hands. She was grateful for the straw.

By the time she got to the end of her drink she felt a little calmer. She suspected that the sight of poor Buddy would haunt her forever, but she couldn’t help the dead man by sitting here cowering. All she could do for him now was to get him justice.

She made two phone calls. First, she called Dwayne.

“Darlin,” he said, all warm and sexy. “I was just thinking about you.”

From the comforts of another woman’s bed. “Dwayne, I need to see you. It’s important.”

“Well, sure, honey. How about later, you and me—”

“Not later, Dwayne. Now. I’m in—” She named the fast food place. “Come over here. I’ll wait.”

“Well, sweat pea, I’m in the middle of a business meeting, right now, but—”

“Cut the bull, Dwayne.” She’d never used that tone with him before. “Get your ass over here. Now.”

And she hung up before he could splutter anything else at her.

The second call was to Luke.

“Marciano.”

“Have you heard?”

“Heard what?”

She dropped her head into her hand, fighting the weakness that threatened. “The guy in the security room? He’s dead. And he did not die of old age.” She dragged in a shaky breath. “Tell me the cops got that footage, Luke.”

In the silence she heard something she thought might be computer keys tapping. “Luke?”

“Who did you tell?”

“What?”

His voice sharpened. “Who did you tell about the guy and the footage?”

“You.”

“Anyone else? Come on, Toni. Who knew he was holding footage for the cops?”

“No one. I told my mother. No one else.”

“You told Linda Plotnik? Might as well have stood on the strip with a megaphone.”

His irritation told her everything she needed to know. She closed her eyes. “They didn’t get the tape, did they?”

“I don’t know. But I doubt they could have moved that fast. They’d need a warrant.”

A scrub-your-mouth-out-with-soap word escaped her lips.

“Toni, I want you and Tiffany and your mom on the next plane out of there. I am serious. Whoever killed that guy knows you saw the footage. You are the only person who can implicate her in the murder. I want you out of there, now!”

Luke rarely ordered her around in that way and she knew it was fear making him act like a bully. But she didn’t like being bullied. Besides, she’d unwittingly caused a man’s death. She couldn’t waltz away as though nothing had happened.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, knowing she wasn’t going anywhere until she had nailed the killer. But she was seriously going to put her mother and daughter on the next plane.

“Toni!”

“What!”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Dwayne walked in a few minutes later as though there were nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. As though it were his idea they meet here. He shot her his million-watt smile. “Hey, darlin’.”

“Don’t darlin’ me. Sit down.”

“Whoa there. Somebody’s grumpy.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek. His shirt was buttoned properly, his hair was neat. Nothing at all apart from a certain heaviness around his eyes could give Dwayne away that he’d walked straight over from another woman’s bed.

Except that they’d mixed fragrances as well as body fluids. His Stetson was mixed with Loretta’s perfume.

“I’m going to get a burger and a soda while I’m here. You want anything?”

The thought of food made her ill. “No.”

He nodded. Pulled out his wallet and when it opened she was surprised moths didn’t fly out. “Ah, I’m a little short. Could you—”

She slapped a twenty on the plastic table.

While he was getting food, she texted her mom. “Can you book flights home for you and Tiff? ASAP. Will explain later.”

Her mom would have a million questions, but Toni deeply believed that her mother would not mess around where her granddaughter was concerned. If Toni said, “Get Tiff out of here,” Linda was going to do it.

Dwayne ambled back with a plastic tray containing a hamburger, fries and a giant sized soda. There was no sign of her change.

He bit into the burger, tearing it with strong teeth.

She watched him for a moment. “You worked up quite an appetite.”

He shot her a glance from his big blues, but for once had the sense not to answer her. He must have heard her at Loretta’s door and if not, Grant’s widow would certainly have told him of her visit.

He offered her a fry.

She shook her head. “This business venture that you wanted me to invest in. How’s that going?”

He swallowed too fast. Coughed and sucked soda noisily through his straw. “Damn, woman. What do you want to go asking questions like that when I’m eating?” He coughed again. “There’s been a tiny hiccup. But things’ll get back on track. Couple of days.”

“What is this business venture, exactly?”

He glanced up, half hopeful, half wary. “Why, you interested?”

“Maybe.”

Dwayne Diamond might be stupid but even he wasn’t that stupid. He sat back and sucked down a little more cola. “I’m not sure it’s right for you. I see you as more of a conservative investor. This is a little risky.”

“Indulge me.”

He shook his head.

She reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Let me tell you what I think. I think you got conned.”

“Conned? What do you take me for?”

Oh, the temptation! But she bit her tongue and resisted answering him. “Those poker chips from the Wentworth? The ones you gave your daughter to go play with?”

She had his attention now. “What about them?”

“They were stolen.”

“Now, honey, that’s not exactly true.”

“Stolen. You know how I know? My mother got caught with them.”

He didn’t go pale or look startled. He had the natural born liar’s ability to look as innocent as the day he was born. “That’s impossible.”

“Where did you get ten thousand dollars worth of casino chips, Dwayne? You can’t even pay for a hamburger.”

She saw the moment he decided to quit stonewalling her. His shoulders slumped a little and he gave her the heart-melting look of a naughty little boy. “A guy came to me. He’s perfected a way to make casino chips. They are so perfect, no one can tell the difference. I paid him a thousand dollars in cash and he gave me ten thousand dollars in chips. He told me to go get a real one and compare them. And he was right. The chips were perfect. He even took me in to play and the dealer didn’t blink.”

“The dealer?”

“At the Wentworth.”

“Did you play at several tables or only one?”

“One. We didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves. But I’m telling you, they were good. So he says, if I can get fifty thou, he’ll get me half a million in chips. I mean, come on. Half a million dollars. That’s the kind of investment I like.”

“It’s not an investment. It’s a crime. Counterfeiting chips is like counterfeiting money. It’s against the law.”

“The law,” he scoffed. “This is Vegas. There is so much money here it’s crazy, and don’t tell me half of it’s not dirty.”

“So you came up with fifty grand?”

“No.” He shifted on the hard plastic chair. “Thirty.”

“Right. The money from Grant Forstman’s safe.”

He picked up a fry, dipped it in ketchup and then dropped it. “Yeah.”

“So, you got, what? Three hundred thousand worth of chips?”

His scowl reminded her of a toddler hearing the word No. “Not exactly. There’s been a delay. Some of the equipment broke down.”

“You know what I think, Dwayne? I think you got scammed. I think whoever your buddy is was part of an inside job. They stole chips, took you to a dealer who was in on the scam so it seemed like they were legitimate.” She wrinkled her nose. “There is no equipment. No one can replicate those chips. Your thirty grand — by which I mean Grant Forstman’s thirty grand — is long gone.”