Chapter 50

   The call came at about 1:50. Nic was driving down The Strip, just taking it easy for a while. He still did not know what to make of the situation. Nothing really added up. There were several puzzle pieces to work with, but nothing fit. He still had not heard from his private detective friend from Colorado, so there was that to wonder about, also.

   As he passed the Bellagio, he began to reconstruct what he knew. Mark Robertson had been killed by Damien Tyler, aka Oscar DeBartolo, who was in turn murdered by Roman Wells, who also killed Dwayne Behrens. Wells had passed onto Nic a key which had been given to Wells by Tyler. Wells also had a sample of what the key led to. An executive from the law firm Jefferson-Brown named Ted Clayton was apparently the paymaster behind Tyler’s death. On a side note, Clayton appeared to also be involved in a black market adoption arrangement with Max Faraday in Reno. So far, Clayton was the number one suspect behind everything. What Nic needed to do was figure out how to meet the man who had so many henchmen do his dirty work.

   As he passed Excalibur, he noticed a dark Chevy sedan that had been behind him for roughly a mile. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it yet, so thinking about it would be a waste before the facts were in.

   As he passed Treasure Island, his cell phone rang. “Yeah?”

  “Mr. Viernes?”

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s Maxwell Faraday, from Reno.”

  “Hey! How are ya?”

  “I’m fine. I just wanted to alert you.”

  “To?”

  “I have had a tail for about a week now. It is quite disturbing. My sister has had one also. I do not quite know why.”

   Smart, Nic thought. Cell phones are bad forums to disclose dirty laundry. “The local paper here had a very small mention of Mark Robertson’s murderer. My guess is that someone had an allergic reaction.”

  “I see. Should I worry?”

  “No. Consider it a paralyzed appendage you don’t even use. Ignore your escort until he bears looking into. Oh, one other thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Wash yourself off as soon as possible. Clay can spread germs.”

   Faraday paused, then chuckled once he got it. “Yes, Mr. Viernes.” Faraday clicked off.

   Less than a minute later, the phone buzzed again. Once again, an unknown number. “What?”

  “Is this Nic?”

  “It sure as hell ain’t Jessica.”

  “This is Ted Clayton.”

   This voice sounds so familiar! Nic whistled. “At long last.”

  “You’ve wanted to meet me?”

  “More than you know. By the way, nice tail you have on me.”

  “You are a nuisance.”

  So much for small talk!  “I am. But let’s start with the criticisms first.”

  “I would very much like to meet you. Now.”

   Nic made sure he was packing. “Where?”

  “Top of the Stratosphere parking lot.”

  “No, I hate that place.” He looked around, he was downtown. “In front of the Golden Nugget on Fremont. Nice and crowded there.”

  “As you wish. Twenty minutes?”

  “Yeah.” Nic clicked off first, then pulled into Fitzgerald’s valet parking area. He got out before the valet could open his door, then took the ticket and made his way through the casino. Outside, he looked around. Even in the afternoon the street was busy. There was a juggler, a woman blowing what seemed like thousands of bubbles in one breath, a saxophonist, a violinist, and probably the worst stand-up comedian all in one area, all trying to make street money. For what? Nic wondered. Drinks? Slot or table money? Food?

   He looked around for a few minutes, getting the feel of the street. He was almost positive the Chevy was being driven by another Clayton crony. The man couldn’t be far away.  It was at the twenty-minute mark, and no sign of anyone.

   Someone shouted, “Nic!” and there was a popping sound. Nic fell to the pavement.

Chapter 49

James Plank stood as Yaritza Esteban approached his table at the Hamada Grill on Flamingo Road. He had been hesitant about the meeting, given that their last one had been tense at the end. However, her reasons for the meeting intrigued him. He smiled cordially as she sat down, fresh from finding a new therapist. She felt wary about starting fresh, yet excited for fresh input. She got what she paid for, so if she actually paid for advice, it might be worth something this time.

  Plank greeted her. “Hello, Detective.”

“Hello,” she replied. Yaritza looked thirsty.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Just water.”

“On duty?”

“No, just not a drinking occasion.”

  A beverage server came around, and Plank said briskly, “Water, please.”

 “Lemon?” the server asked.

 “Please,” Yaritza replied.

  As the server walked away, Plank sipped at his vodka and tonic slowly, savoring the taste. “So, what are we discussing today?”

  Yaritza glanced at the menu a bit. She had never been to the Hamada and was anxious to try it. “First, I owe you an apology.”

 “For?”

 “For our last meeting.”

  Plank nodded. “Actually, I owe an apology as well. You must understand that with my ex-wife’s scandalous nature, my promotion was tightrope-thin. I had to do some fancy walking and talking to get it. Reminders of the past get me annoyed, to say the least.”

 “I chased a lot of wrong people to solve the Robertson case.”

 “That surprised me, Detective. You have a reputation for finding the right people fast.”

  Yaritza shook her head. “That’s just it. I think somebody knew I’d be on the case and neutralized me, so to speak.”

 “Why?”

 “That’s what I keep asking myself. The case has been solved, by the way, just not officially.”

   Plank stopped mid-sip and put his drink down. “There was no mention of it in the paper.”

  “There was a small blurb that didn’t even make it to page five. A local nobody got killed away from town, it didn’t warrant a full column.”

 “Who was it?”

 “The killer?”

 “Yes, of course.”

 “A professional assassin.”

   Plank nodded slowly, comprehending the response, but not much else. The server came back with the water and took their order. Plank ordered steak and shrimp, Yaritza ordered chicken and shrimp. After the order was taken, Plank asked, “Do you know why?”

“No idea. We’re looking into that.”

“The department?”

“No, outside help. The department considers it a closed case.”

  Plank shrugged. “Maybe it should stay that way.”

 “I’d agree if it weren’t for one thing. A name keeps coming up in connection to everything. Actually, two names. That’s why I wanted to see you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Jefferson-Brown was named by the assassin’s assassin.”

“Named for what?”

“Ordering the kill.”

  Plank’s face turned dark red. “That’s a fucking lie!”

 “It’s all hearsay, that’s why I asked to see you. I need your help.”

 “Detective, I know nothing of your case! My law firm does good work for families, we do not hire assassins! Whoever told you we did is lying.”

  Yaritza sat back. “Yes, I agree I’ve been lied to way too many times on this case. So when I hear lie number 87, I’m inclined to believe it for a change.”

“I tell you, we are a good firm!”

“Your managing director seems to do things on the side.”

  Plank’s eyes widened in anger for a moment, then narrowed a bit, still angry but also confused. “What?”

“Your managing director.”

   Plank almost smiled through his anger. “Who are you talking about?”

             “Ted Clayton.”

   Plank couldn’t help it, he laughed. The redness of anger turned into the redness of uncontrolled amusement. “Ted Clayton?!”

   Yaritza was now confused. “Yes. What’s so funny?”

   Plank shook his head, trying to control himself. “I’m sorry, I’m just picturing Clayton doing anything.”

  “Well, he may seem idle to you, but I think he’s been up to some tricks.”

  “Unlikely, Detective.”

 “Why?”

 “Ted Clayton has been dead for two years.”

 Yaritza’s mouth dropped. It wasn’t so much of a surprise as it should have been, but the time factor puzzled her. “Two years?”

“That’s right.”

            “But he’s still listed as the managing partner!”
             Plank put his hands up as a ‘take it easy’ gesture. “Simply an honorary title. The          old man Brown assumed that role as well when Clayton died. He hates when others control the firm. He founded it, it’s his baby.”

  “Then something strange is going on there.”

  “Why?”

  “Someone is doing a lot to cover up a crime in the name of Ted Clayton, and it’s been made clear it’s the Ted Clayton from your firm.”

   Plank shook his head. “I tell you, we’re a good firm.”

  “I believe you, but there’s still something missing. You’ve just been promoted. Have your colleagues let you in on everything yet?”

  “Well, no, but-“

   Yaritza nodded. “Can you start looking? Don’t be obvious, and don’t go looking through client files at all. It’s an employee, I think.”

   Plank sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “One other thing: my friend and I are aware of your firm’s interest in the Belgian.”

   Plank shrugged. “It’s not illegal.”

  “I know. We’re just curious as to who Hughes Limited is. They’re listed as another partner.”

  “I never heard of them. The casino is an investment. We could sell our shares easily if it got to be a burden.”

   Yaritza shook her head. “That’s funny. An employee there said there was a deduction from each check that is donated for charity, and that it’s required for employment to agree to the deduction.”

  “We don’t do that and it is illegal.”

  “Well, we contribute to our retirement each check.”

   Plank nodded. “If that casino deduction were for such a fund, it would be legal. It sounds like a scam to me.”

  “The employee claims that your firm authorizes the deduction.”

   James Plank’s face did not get red this time. Instead, he rose from the table. “If you don’t mind, Detective, I have suddenly lost my appetite.”

  “I understand. I’ll pay for my lunch.”

   He shook his head. “No, it is on my tab, I come here often. Besides, from what you just told me, I think maybe there is something wrong at the firm. There has been some whispering going on.”

  “About?”

  “It’s just hearsay, but Brown has a new watchdog on us, he’s created tension.”

  “Have a name I can look up?”

  “No, nothing yet. But if you’re right about any of this, I owe you more than lunch.” Plank started toward the lobby, then turned back. “I made a comment to you once about Nikea Robertson and you that was not nice. I apologize.” He then walked out of the restaurant.

Chapter 48

   Nic couldn’t stand being interrupted in a goal, but when the police captain called him in for questioning, it was best to make that the top priority. While Yaritza went about searching for a new shrink, he sat in Corday’s office. The captain apparently had the hurry-up-and-wait philosophy, as he had summoned him to come ASAP, and then made Nic wait for a half-hour in his office. Luckily, Nic had brought  Ray Stevens’s autobiography with him to stay occupied.

   Finally, Corday came in, slammed the door, then sat at his desk. “I don’t like bullshit, Viernes.”

  “Then don’t shovel it.”

  “I think you’ve been shoveling it since coming to town.”

  “Nonsense. I sold my garden tools years ago.”

  “I want to know why Detective Esteban’s handcuffs were attached to Gerard Gillis.”

  “He tried to shoot me.”

  “And she shot him.”

  “With her own gun, which she has a permit for.”

   Corday sat back. “I want an explanation.”

  “About?”

  “Why you’re in Las Vegas.”

   Nic nodded, then leaned forward. The witty repartee wasn’t working, so maybe a little truth might ease the edge. “My partner in Reno was killed and I want to know who was hired by whom to get a nasty murder chain going. Part of that chain was Mark Robertson.”

   Corday’s eyes went up. “Esteban is not allowed near that case.”

  “She hasn’t been near it. I have.”

  “So how did she come to shoot Gillis?”

  “She followed me and saved my ass. Did she give you his gun?”

   Corday closed his eyes and sighed while nodding. “And he is in police custody at the hospital for the bullet wound. After that he’ll probably be freed.”

  “What?”

  “She could have just taken the gun from him. The wound was unnecessary.”

  “Not even an arrest, a citizen’s arrest, for attempted murder? Assault with a deadly weapon? I’ll give a sworn statement if you want!”

  “What I want are answers, goddamn it!”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Why was he shooting you?”

  “He thought I had something. I didn’t.”

  “What is it?”

  “A key to a safe deposit box.”

  “Is it his?”

  “No.”

  “Then whose is it?”

  “It’s registered to Oscar DeBartolo.”

   Corday slowly nodded. “Robertson’s killer.”

  “An employee of Jefferson-Brown named Ted Clayton wants it. DeBartolo’s, or rather Damien Tyler’s, killer Roman Wells gave it to me. He told he the key leads to something big. I’m just trying to follow through.”

   Corday tapped his pencil on the desk in thought. He was not as angry, but not happy, either. The story was intriguing him against his will. “Did you find the bank where the key came from?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “They demanded it back. I politely said no, they insisted, I said no. But then I did something stupid.”

  “I bet.”

  “I asked the people there to tell Ted Clayton, who was listed as the key’s next-of-kin, to meet me on top of the Stratosphere.”

  “And you met Gillis.”

  “And one other more civilized guy named Erskine.”

  “I don’t have Gillis in our files, and I don’t know about Erskine.”

   Nic nodded. “Isn’t it strange that a law firm supposedly into family practice is engaging with mercenaries?”

   Corday shrugged. “Until now I hadn’t heard of anything.” He then sighed resignedly. “All right, you can go. Just one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

   Corday stood and looked into Nic’s eyes. “You look like a decent guy, so I’m cutting you a break, plus because Esteban is generally a good judge of character. But let me give you some warning. If I ever hear of you involved in gunfire without justification, I’ll trump you up on something. Understood?”

   Nic nodded. “Fair enough.”

Chapter 47

Making sure that Gillis was out cold, Yaritza wordlessly escorted Nic to his car. He was unsure if Erskine was watching and preferred to guess he was, on the safe side. The presumption dignified acting cautiously. He followed Yaritza on a maze-like drive through Las Vegas, making sure there was no tail….no obvious one, anyway.

   Once they felt safe, they went back to her apartment. When Nic got inside, she slammed the door. “Please tell me you’re not crazy, Nic.”

   Nic sat down. “I’m not crazy, I just fly like that sometimes.”

  “You went to a meeting like that with no backup?”

  “I tried to find you.”

   She sighed. “I was at my therapist’s office.”

  “That’s ok. To tell the truth, I didn’t expect anyone to show up, let alone two goons.”

  “There were two?”

  “A guy named Erskine met me on top. He seemed civil enough, in control, but by the time Gillis got to me, I knew I was being double-teamed. At least I know one thing.”

  “What?”

  “My visit to that bank rattled them.”

  “Yeah, there’s something else, too.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve been made.”

  “Oh, right. I kind of knew I was when I left the bank anyway. Stan Weston hinted that he had connections. I think that’s what made me give the meeting time and place.”

  Yaritza sighed heavily. “Now what?”

  “For now, I leave the key alone.”

  “And do what?”

  “Two things. First, I need to bring someone else in with us.”

   Yaritza shook her head. “No, this has to be just you and me.”

  “Esteban, you’re a cop on leave and I’m a bounty hunter with no bounty. Until today our partnership had anonymity. Now one of the thugs they have knows both of us.”

   She sat down. “Yeah. All right, who do you have in mind?”

  “There’s a P.I. based in Seattle that I know. Kind of hard to get along with, but he can get a job done.”

  “What do you want him to do?”

  “Get to places we can’t access due to our newfound fame, and otherwise be a distraction to them.”

  “And what’s the second thing you’re going to do?”

  “Get on Nikea Robertson’s case. She had a son, right? I just thought of that today.”

  “Yes.”

  “His school was checked, right?”

  “He wasn’t registered in the public school system, and we checked a few private places, no luck. We couldn’t try every private school. She could have home tutored him for all we know.”

  “Figures, no forwarding address. So we’re back to that number.”

  “How so?”

  “I want to see how serious these people are, how far they’re willing to go to maintain a cover.”

   Yaritza shook her head in confusion. “I’m not following.”

  “Obviously the number isn’t a contact for Nikea’s parents. I want to know who’s pretending. I think it’ll be one of our buddies at Jefferson-Brown.”

   Yaritza shrugged. “Give it a shot.”

  Nic nodded, then hesitated, looking back at her. “And there’s something else.”

  “I can hardly wait, seeing how well we’re doing.”

  “Is it normal practice for a therapist to keep computer records?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Your department has everything on computer.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “Making it vulnerable to hackers, including department shrinks’ patient files.”

   Yaritza shook her head in disbelief. “Nic, you’re not making sense.”

  “I need to know something, Yaritza. I need to know if you’d ever told a department shrink about your sexual stuff.”

  “That’s none of your business!!” she replied sharply.

  “You’re right, but I need to know.”

  “Why?” Yaritza was in tears.

  “Because you need to think about Nikea. She was a manipulator, and when she left you were rendered a disaster area. It sounds to me like she accomplished a mission so that her husband’s killer could be killed without interference from you. Now, I’ll ask again. Did you tell a department shrink about yourself in the past in terms of your sexuality.”

    The reply was whispered. “Yes. A common subject, in fact.”

  “Get a new therapist, and demand the original file to give to the new one.”

  “You think she’s in on it?”

  “Your therapist?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I think you’re being watched more than you know.”

  “I don’t understand any of this! Why would they prevent me from finding out who killed Mark Robertson?”

  “Did someone try to kill me today to find a key?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think that’s part of the why.”

Chapter 46

Yaritza was not at her apartment.

   She was not at the police station, either. Nobody had seen or heard from her.

   It sucked for Nic. It was 3:30 and he wanted some back-up on the Stratosphere. Not that he thought Clayton would show, but there was no use in taking chances. There had been something about Weston’s impatient yet calm manner that disturbed him. The guard Craig was not all that comforting to him, either. Nic had the distinct feeling that Craig would like to take a shot at him just to regain his honor. Hell, just having to pull out his gun at the bank to escape was unnerving.

   Eventually, he found his way back to Corday’s office. Inside, Jules Dalton was working on the captain’s computer. “Hey.”

   Jules looked up. “You’re Yaritza’s friend, aren’t you?”

  “You know I am. You seen her around?”

  “Not today. Do you know when she’s coming back?”

   Nic shrugged. “When she’s ready, I guess. What are you up to?”

  “Well, we’re making sure everything is where it should be on the computer.”

  “En Ingles, por favor?”

  “There was a crash in the system about a month or so ago and we’re making sure the files are still there, and what isn’t there needs to be re-entered. I’m doing inventory.”

   “And you get to check the captain’s computer. Good for you.”

  “It’s a pain in my ass, but whoever does the chief’s office has the biggest job.”

   Nic’s eyebrows went up. “It crashed everything, huh?”

  “Yep. Our office, C.S.I., shrink, even the morgue got slammed.”

  “The department shrink has patient files on computer?”

  “Very little paper anymore, pal.”

   Nic nodded. “It seems so. If Yaritza shows up, tell her I’m at the Stratosphere.”

  “Gambling?”

  “Fishing.”

   An hour later, Nic felt a bit better. To gain access to the top of the Stratosphere, he had to go through a security check. He had nothing to worry about, since he was not carrying. That meant nobody else would go up carrying, either.

   When he got to the top, he immediately made for the outdoor observation area. There were a few people milling about, mostly tourists. He waited for a half-hour, watching the sun start to descend toward Mount Charleston.

   Just as he was ready to head back to the casino, a tall young man with a shaved head and a goatee dressed all in blue denim appeared beside him, watching the sun as well. The two stood there, admiring the beauty together, silent.

   As the sun disappeared, the man spoke. “You Nic?”

  “Me Nic, you mystery.”

  “The name’s Erskine.”

  “I was hoping to meet Clayton.”

  “Clayton is busy.”

  “So he sent you.”

  “He sent me.”

  “And what are we discussing?”

  “Your increasing nuisance.”

  “Am I annoying you?”

  “No, but it doesn’t matter.”

  “But I want you to like me, Erskine.”

   Erskine finally looked at Nic. “I don’t really like anybody.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “You have the key?”

  “Not on me.”

   Erskine almost smiled. “Smart move. My orders are to take it from you if you had it.”

  “You don’t seem disappointed.”

  “I’m not. The key’s not mine.”

  “One might argue that Clayton doesn’t own it, either.”

  “Beats me, I haven’t seen the deed on it.”

  “Ah. So now what? We just go our separate ways?”

  “You’re tricky.”

   Nic grinned. “Best compliment I’ve had all day.”

  “You don’t have personal connections we can threaten you with, at least not that we’ve found yet.”

  “Now that’s the operative word: we.”

  “What?”

  “Who is we?”

  “Powerful people you don’t need to meet.”

  “A law firm isn’t what I’d call powerful, unless Jefferson-Brown knows the devil himself.”

   Erskine nodded. “We do know the devil.”

   Nic shrugged. “So you’re gonna follow me?”

  “Until we find the key.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t pat me down right here.”

  “Nah, too much security.”

   Nic tipped his hat. “Til next time, Erskine.” He made his way back inside and down to the elevator. Minutes later, he was down on the casino level again, and had the distinct feeling of being watched. That feeling continued all the way to the parking garage. When he reached his level on the elevator, he suddenly bolted for the top floor, which was 2 levels higher than his car. He walked out into the open air. There were only a few scattered cars.

   A few minutes later, a stout, suited man with a bad gray comb-over appeared from the elevator. He wore sunglasses and a sour disposition. “Why do you make this so fucking difficult?”

  “Make what difficult?”

   The man pulled out a gun. “Give us the key.”

  “I don’t have it, and you’re alone, so there’s no us to give it to if I had it.”

  “I’ll shoot a hole for every time you fuck with me.”

   Nic put his hands up. “I’m unarmed.”

  “I’m not.” The man fired a shot just next to Nic’s right foot. His aim was either right on or just plain lousy. “Am I getting through to you?”

  “Kind of.”

   The man aimed to fire a more convincing shot. He would have been successful had Yaritza’s shot not knocked the gun from his hand. “Freeze!”

   The shooter also raised his hands. Nic lowered his. “Where have you been?”

  “Away.”

  “Ok.”

   Yaritza turned her attention to the man. “Who are you?”

  “Fuck you!”

   She aimed and put a hole in the man’s suit shoulder. “What was your name again?”

  “Gillis, Gerard Gillis.”

  “Who do you work for, Gillis?”

  “The people who want the key.”

  “And who are they?”

  “Jefferson-Brown.”

   Nic shook his head. “Is this what law firms do now? Hire thugs to do their dirty work?”

   Gillis turned to him. “I’m not done with you.”

   Nic picked the gun up. “But you’re done with this.” He looked at the serial number. “This registered to you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “We’ll check. Should have filed the numbers off.”

  “I got a permit for it.”

  “And I got a witness seeing you attempt to shoot me. Kind of wipes out your permit.”

   Gillis shook his head. “It’s a losing battle, don’t you see that?”

   Yaritza motioned for the man to move away from the elevator. As he did so, Nic moved toward her. “Hit him, Nic.”

  “How hard?”

  “I want him out.”

   Nic shrugged, then walked over. “Sorry, man.” He feinted low, then did a hard right cross, left uppercut combo on Gillis’s chin. The man fell back, hit his head on the pavement, then was out. “That was easy.” He searched the man’s pockets and found a cell phone. “Let’s cut his communication skills, not that he had any.”

   Yaritza motioned toward the elevator. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 45

   Finding the bank was easy.

   Access was completely another matter.

   Nic had spent all morning going from bank to bank. He first tried all of the most well-known names without any success. Then he had set upon some of the local bank branches, knowing full well that the name-brand banks would not have been chosen if the documents, or whatever it was, he was seeking were as damaging as he imagined them to be. Finally, a bit after noon, he entered Valley Trust, a one-building bank with no other listed branches.

   The inside had a feeling of stiffness, no friendly customer service smiles awaiting him. In fact, Nic felt as though he were an intruder. The inside was an ugly light green, like it had been built in the 1970s. There was no large teller row, simply a set of scattered flat desks all around the room, about half of them occupied by a name plate, yet only two employees. A tall crew-cut guard stood near the door, eyeing everything at once, it seemed. Nic guessed he was an ex-Marine looking for a new war. Why he chose what seemed to be a rather dead business was beyond him.

   He turned to the guard. “Where would I find someone who can help me with a safe deposit box?”

   The man pointed straight ahead. “Mr. Weston can help you.”

   Nic nodded, and went ahead, seeing that the guard was probably not apt to exchange witty banter. He walked up to Weston, a bald man in his mid to late 50s, not quite the soldier the guard was. “Hello.”

   Weston looked up and smiled politely. “Yes?”

   Nic held up the key. “I need to know something about this key.”

   Weston nodded and took it, examining it carefully. He nodded again. “It belongs to us.”

  “You mean it will open a box here?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how would one gain access to this box, given that I am not an account-holder here?”

  “This was not given to you from this bank?”

   Nic smiled and gently took it from Weston, sensing a growing sense of ownership from the man. “No, its previous owner let me have it.”

  “How did this come about?”

  “After he died, I was invited to a reading of the will. He gave all his worldly possessions to his sister, and left the key to me, along with his Penthouse collection.”

   Weston scowled. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Me too, he said he’d take the magazines to his grave.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Nic Viernes.”

  “Mr. Viernes, as you can see, this is not a bank most people deposit in.”

  “I see that. How do you survive?”

  “An older clientele, for the most part, and we are very private. Nobody walks in here simply to open a paltry $100 savings account, we will not allow it.”

  “Wow, so much for my 3 $50 savings bonds.”

  “I want that key.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Need I call the police?”

  “Sure. When you do, you’ll eventually discover that the original holder of this key is a posthumous murder suspect who got his come-uppance recently.”

   Weston’s eyes narrowed. “Are you the police?”

  “At one time.”

  “What was the man’s name?”

  “I will give you 2 names. The man who gave this to me was named Roman Wells. The man he got it from was named Oscar DeBartolo, previously christened as Damien Tyler.”

   Weston turned around and opened a file cabinet drawer, looked, closed then opened another drawer, then found a card. “Yes, we have Mr. DeBartolo’s card.”

  “And there’s a match with the key?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he deposit money here, too?”

   Weston scowled again. “That is a confidential matter.”

  “I don’t think he’ll mind, he’s dead, and I don’t think he had a next-of-kin.”

   Weston examined the card. “He deposited no money, simply wanted a box.”

  “So you don’t allow small-time depositors, but you allow for a simple asset-holding in a deposit box?”

  “For a healthy fee.”

  “He won’t be paying any longer.”

  “He won’t,” Weston almost smiled at Nic as if to gloat. “But his next-of-kin keeps up payments.”

   Nic’s eyebrows raised. “Really. Well, the man or woman may want the key back.”

  “Exactly. We will make sure they get it.”

  “How about if I pay my respects personally? I did get justice for the dearly departed, after all.”

   Weston rested his elbows on the desk, clasped his hands, and looked squarely at Nic. “Is your purpose to find the key’s owner, or look in the box?”

   Nic smiled. “Originally, it was to simply look inside. Now, I also want to meet the key’s new owner.”

  “Very well. First you must get permission from the new owner.”

  “I see. The name?”

  “A Mr. Ted Clayton is the owner.”

   Nic’s smile remained frozen. “Really? And where might I find him?”

  “No address was given.”

  “So even if I gave you the key, you wouldn’t know where to look, right?”

  “We can find people.”

   “So can I.” Nic thought for a moment. He wanted to see the contents inside the box as badly as ever, but for the moment decided that they were safer inside the bank. “I will return once I have Mr. Clayton’s blessing. I will also keep the key.”

  “I would rather that you hand it over.”

  “No. It has come to my attention that what is inside the box could mean trouble for some people. I have heard of Ted Clayton, and none of it is good so far. I think the key is safer with me, and the box is safer with you, for now.”

   Weston snapped at the guard. “Craig, please take the key and escort Mr. Viernes out.”

   Nic pulled out his Glock and aimed it right at Craig. “Don’t get yourself killed over trivial matters, my friend. You look tough, and probably are, but my finger is on the trigger and the safety is off.”

   Craig stood still while Nic backed out toward the door. As he opened it, Nic said, “Tell Teddy I want a meeting on top of the Stratosphere at 5:00 this afternoon.”

   Weston shrugged. No words. Craig stood looking helpless, and slightly humiliated. Nic smiled and left. Once outside, he almost slapped himself. The meeting idea had been rash, but he did put it out there. What happened next, he had no idea.

Chapter 44

   Yaritza took a long beat before responding, making sure she had heard right. “Killing deadbeat dads,” she repeated slowly.

  “Right.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense, Nic.”

  “I know, it’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

  “Sure is.”

  “But I think that’s what they’re up to. You know I think the firm has hired assassins, just didn’t know for what. I know, I have no evidence to support this. I have to get to that safe deposit box Roman Wells mentioned. Maybe that will give the evidence I need. And Wells did mention that this Project Stalk was something scary.”

  “A lawn firm killing deadbeat dads, Nic? I think you’re off on this. Maybe they have hired thugs or something, but assassins to kill dads is way out in left field.”

  “Maybe I am in left field. It’s just something in my gut, and it’ll stay there until I’m convinced otherwise. My nature, can’t control it.”

  “What convinces you?”

  “They’re a family law firm, right?”

  “Right, and they do a lot in this town to help families. They’re high-profile.”

  “And that’s why it wouldn’t make sense to kill people.”

  “Exactly. Plus, Mark Robertson wasn’t a deadbeat dad.”

  “According to?”

  “Nikea.”

  “I don’t think she’s very credible right now.”

   Yaritza shrugged. “Maybe, but we don’t have anything to go on to refute it either.”

   Nic sighed in frustration. “You don’t believe me on this, do you?”

  “You’re a good tracker, right?”

  “I prefer to think I’m great.”

   Yaritza smiled warmly. “Great, then. Does being a tracker relate to skills of deduction in terms of being a detective?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you have enough clues to make that inference of killing deadbeat dads?”

   He frowned in thought for a moment, then shook his head slowly. “Long shot hunch, huh?”

  “Call it keeping an open mind to possibilities. I like the spitballing, though, tells me that you think.”

   Nic grinned. “I’ll drop it for now, then. You have Nikea’s parents’ number?”

  “Your really think it’ll be useful?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I just need to check every angle if I’m going to find her.”

   She got up and went into the kitchen, bringing out a metal file box. Opening it, she pulled out a piece of paper, then handed it to Nic. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed it. Yaritza watched as he had a puzzled look for a moment. He redialed and listened again, then had a smile. He hung up and looked at her. “You’ve been played.”

  “What?”

  “Listen.” Nic redialed and handed the phone to her. She listened to a short series of beeps and clicks, almost inaudible. Finally, after about ten seconds, the ringing started. She hung up the phone and shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “You ever get called by a telemarketer?”

  “Of course.”

  “What do you usually notice about them?”

  “They annoy me at mealtime.”

  “Besides that?”

    She thought about it. “A lot of them have a short pause before someone talks to me.”

  “Like what you just heard?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What we just heard was a little more complicated than a telemarketer. Being a bounty hunter, you learn a few things in tracking, and when people don’t want to be found, they can get really creative.”

  “So?”

  “So, I don’t know if Nikea’s parents are alive or dead or whatever, but that definitely isn’t their number. It’s a complicated forwarding device.”

  “All right, now we have to figure out who answers it.”

   Nic held up a finger. “Not yet. We do have a starting point, at least.”

  “Why not yet?”

  “Because I need to look into the safe box key first. I’ve put that off too long already.”

  “You really think you’ll find the right one?”

  “My goal for the end of tomorrow.”

  “And the next day?”

  “To find Mrs. Robertson.”

Chapter 43

   Yaritza was confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”

   Nic had made a beeline from the Belgian to her apartment. Once arriving, he told of his talk with the bartender Dean nonstop while Yaritza sipped at her coffee wide-eyed, not catching more than two words.

  “What part didn’t you catch?”

  “Everything except Belgian, beer, and bartender.”

  “All right. From what I gathered, the JB on that pay stub probably stood for Jefferson-Brown, especially when the kid said it was a law firm.”

  “We’ll check for other firms, but go on.”

  “It’s coming together.”

  “Uh, what’s coming together?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, that clears it all up, doesn’t it?”

  “I do have an idea, though.”

  “Good, because I don’t.”

  “First thing I need to do is have an idea what Ted Clayton looks like.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m thinking about staking out the offices of Jefferson-Brown, specifically Mr. Clayton.”

  “You mean tail him?”

  “Yeah, I want to become very familiar with his lifestyle.”

   Yaritza looked at her coffee. “I thought you were going to help me track down Nikea.”

  “I am, don’t worry, but I think with these people we need to do some multi-tasking.”

  “With Nikea do you have any idea where to start?”

  “A few ideas. I take it the bat computer at police headquarters was no help.”

  “None.”

   Nic paced the room for a moment in silence, his mind obviously racing. “Any other leads there?”

  “Nothing really. Her parents haven’t even seen her.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Winnemucca.”

  “And they’ve been instructed to call if they hear from her?”

  “Right.”

  “And no word.”

  “Not one.”

  “We’ll start with them. Have the number handy?”

  “Uh…..I’m not sure I should give it to you.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re wired, Nic. You need to calm down.”

  “I am calm, I just want to get moving on this.”

  “Why the urgency?”

   Nic finally sat down next to Yaritza and looked at her very solemnly. It took her a minute to realize he wasn’t wired, he was alarmed by something. “Nic, what is it?”

  “I have the strange feeling other people are about to be killed.”

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  “It was something that bartender told me about Hughes and JB, both of them owning the casino.”

  “Sounds like a strange investment for a law firm.”

  “No shit. I’ve heard of Hughes before, too. I just don’t know where.”

  “But it did connect something for you.”

  “It did. It said that employees of that casino just might be paying for assassins and they don’t know it.”

  “Assassins to do what?”

  “Yaritza, what do assassins do?”

  “They kill.”

  “Right.”

  “Who would they be killing?”

  “It’s the word deadbeat that keeps rattling in my brain. When Dean mentioned it and I was looking at his pay stub, something clicked.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Yaritza, I think Jefferson-Brown is hiring assassins to kill deadbeat dads.”