Vegas, Baby (22 page)

CHAPTER 31

LESTER waited patiently for Turner Atkins to be brought into the communal visitation room. He stared at the glass pane that would thankfully separate him from Atkins, and silently cursed himself for ever approaching that girl Devon. She was the one who’d gotten him mixed up with Turner Atkins in the first place. Had it not been for that one mistake he’d still be living in the lap of luxury, and Meredith would be showering him with undying gratitude for the new house—that he was now certain the Feds were going to confiscate.

He wondered if the ring was technologically capable of picking up Turner’s voice through the little holes that had been placed strategically in the glass. He’d like to believe it wouldn’t, but his better judgment told him differently. Then again, he’d better pray it worked just fine. Otherwise, he’d be back for another go around.

He perked up attentively as Atkins approached him wearing an orange jumpsuit and shackles.

“Lester,” Turner said.

“Mr. Atkins.”

“How’s it going?” Turner asked, knowing Perzinsky understood the nuances of his greeting.

“Good…good,” Lester said with a hint of uncertainty.

“So what’s the problem?”

“I think those two cops know the cards are being dealt to them.” Lester cleared his throat awkwardly.

“You think?” Turner’s response came with a poker-face.

“Yeah. They’ve been playing recklessly the last couple of days. It’s like they’re one-hundred percent certain their hands are going to win.” Lester did a poor job of hiding his exasperation that the pawns had somehow uncovered Turner’s ruse.

“Has anyone approached you?” Turner asked with slow caution.

“No!” Lester insisted with a quick shake of the head. “I’ve stayed away from the tables during tournament play…just like you told me.” Secretly, he hoped Atkins wouldn’t know any differently.

Turner sat in silence, and Lester’s nerves knotted in his gut. He hoped Atkins was not aware of his uneasy twitch—his leg bouncing up and down—hidden, luckily, underneath the counter.

Turner snickered softly. Thoughts rippled through his mind of Rio Laraquette driving herself nuts trying to figure out what was going on. If Turner knew anything—while his marks might know they were being set up—they weren’t aware of who was doing it or why. Of that, he was sure.

“What do you want me to do?” Lester asked, watchful. “Should I cease prearranging the matches?”

“No.” Turner rejected his request swiftly. “Keep feeding them winning hands. I want Laraquette and her boyfriend to end up competing at the final table. During the last few hands of the final match, I want the bottom to fall out from under them!” he added with hearty laughter.

“So you want to pull the rug out from under the cops?” Lester’s brow furrowed, as if he were trying to figure out what the significance of
pulling the rug
would bring.

Turner was more than willing to enlighten him. “While I admit that is an added bonus,” he said. “There’s really just one cop I’m targeting.”

“One?”

“The girl,” Turner said. “She’s the one I’m doing this for.”

“She yours?” Almost instantaneously Lester realized the brilliancy of his inquiry.

“She’s the cop that busted me.” Turner’s tone hardened and his face flustered.

“Oh...” Lester stretched out the word, processing that notion. When the true nature of Turner’s scheme hit him, he let out a soft chuckle. “So this is kind of like payback?”

“Well, yeah,” Turner said, as if there were no other option available to him. “I want her to know she can bust me and send me to jail all she wants. It’s not going to change anything.” He squared his shoulders as his anger toward Rio Laraquette threatened to hit overload. “It doesn’t matter if I’m in here or out there. I am the boss. I am in charge.” Turner leaned back in his chair and spread a sarcastic grin across his face. “My fixing this tournament will prove that.”

“But—” Lester’s curiosity persuaded him to live dangerously by probing further. “How’s she supposed to know it’s you?”

“She’s a smart little cookie.” Turner nodded. “She’ll figure it out.”

For a fleeting moment Lester thought he saw a hint of respect for the cop in Turner’s eyes.

“She just won’t be able to prove it.” Turner chuckled. “And since no one’s benefited more than her, it’ll discredit her when word gets out about the corrupt poker tournament.”

In the adjoining room off to the side of the visitor’s quarters, Eddie LaCall snatched the earbuds off his head. “Okay, that’s enough. Get Perzinsky out of there.”

CHAPTER 32

GABE Dalton stood in the doorway of his office, rocking back and forth on his heels as he scanned the bullpen, looking for LaCall. After a moment Gabe spotted him on the other side of the room and let out a cat-call whistle to get his attention.

And everyone else’s too.

Eddie looked around and his gaze lit on Gabe. He hesitated for a second and Gabe gave him another coaxing wave. Finally, Eddie pushed himself up from his desk and headed toward Gabe.

“Any luck, LaCall?” Gabe asked, motioning Eddie inside.

“As a matter of fact, sir…yes, we did.” Eddie tried not to let the derision flow out in his voice too strongly as he moved across his boss’s office and took one of the two empty chairs in front of the desk. “We have Turner Atkins on audio stating that he rigged the tournament to prove to Rio that he’s still in charge even though he’s behind bars.”

“Really?” Gabe’s voice was full of surprise as he claimed the seat behind his desk.

“Yes, sir,” Eddie said with a casual nod.

Gabe picked up a pen off the desk and fiddled with it. Could it be that simple? Was Turner Atkins that arrogant? Gabe looked back at Eddie, not entirely happy about the uncertainty that was swallowing him up. It seemed too farfetched that Atkins would orchestrate such an elaborate scheme from behind bars. Gabe didn’t delude himself that it couldn’t be done. It just didn’t make sense. “How many days left in the tournament?” he asked.

“Two.”

“I don’t suppose the Golden Sunset’s going to be thrilled to hear the whole thing’s been a sham.” Gabe’s chuck, nervous and grating, rumbled out.

The phone on Gabe’s desk buzzed. He looked at Eddie as if to say, “
one sec”
, and picked up the receiver. “Dalton.” Gabe listened for a moment and then threw in a few
uh-huhs
,
whens
and
wheres
. A couple of times he let out a downright groan.

But the main thing Eddie noticed as the conversation carried on was Gabe Dalton’s face drained of all color, leaving him white, ghost-like.

When the call ended, Gabe hung up the phone and turned to Eddie. The look of disbelief had polluted his eyes with a dark, murky sheen. “Is everything okay, sir?” Eddie asked as the anxiety crept in.

Where was Rio?

Eddie’s heart thudded against his chest. He shot up from the chair and made it to the window in two strides. With a hasty hand, he peered through the blinds and saw Rio sitting at her desk.

The sight of her showered him with relief. Damn. Gabe had scared him, sitting up there looking like he’d seen a ghost. Or maybe he’d heard about one in the phone call.

Eddie turned back to face Gabe and propped one hand on his hip. The thought
what’s going on
dissipated before it could pass across his lips.

Confusion lit in Gabe’s eyes for an instant before he said, “Blake Switzer is dead.”

“What?” Eddie gasped, moved across the room and slammed his palms on the edge of the desk. “He’s dead? Who was that?” The cop in Eddie took over, hurling questions. He was hardly able to believe the news.

“That was the police in Kingman, Arizona,” Gabe said, his own surprise still evident in his voice. “The reason we haven’t been able to locate Switzer is because he was killed in a traffic accident yesterday.” He relayed the details with amazing poise, and Eddie began to wonder if Gabe knew what he’d been doing in Arizona. Were there out of state leads that Eddie wasn’t aware of? Gabe cleared his throat and dragged Eddie’s thoughts back to the issue. “A group of teenagers were out joyriding. The driver was paying closer attention to his friends than the traffic around him. The teen ran a red light and plowed into the driver’s side of Switzer’s car. The airbag failed and he was killed instantly.” Gabe summed it up as if it were all so simple. Still, a hint of doubt resided in his words.

“Why do I get the feeling there’s more?” Eddie asked with a measure of caution.

“Maybe because there is.” Gabe drew a breath and Eddie imagined that he was silently cursing his faulty judgment—not once, but twice—coming to light today. “Switzer was in possession of a sealed letter, which the police believe he intended to mail at some point.”

Eddie’s nerves knotted around his heart and the organ pounded wildly against his chest. “Am I right?” he asked with a shaky voice and a stoic expression.

“It was addressed to Rio…another anonymous letter,” Gabe said. “This one was shorter and more to the point than the last.”

“What’d it say?” Eddie asked, even thought he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear the details.

“It said:
Die, bitch. Die
.” Gabe nearly choked on the words.

A noticeable chill sliced through Eddie and he shivered. Anger crossed his mind as he looked at his boss. “Can I go search his place?”

“Take Laraquette with you,” Gabe said. “Perhaps you’d better prepare her for what you’re expecting to find.”

“What about the tournament?” Eddie realized the Golden Sunset needed disclosure soon. Preferably before they awarded upwards of a million dollars to one of the players and ended up getting sued by all the others.

“Bradley and Rivera can handle the Golden Sunset,” Gabe said. “It’s better for you if you go to Switzer’s place and satisfy your own curiosity. If you don’t perform the initial search, you’ll spend the rest of your days wondering what might have been overlooked just because Switzer was a Fed.”

It didn’t take long for the notion to take root in Eddie’s head. He agreed with a nod. “He’s responsible,” he said of Switzer.

“I want this put to rest once and for all,” Gabe said in an uncommitted voice, but Eddie could tell he was giving way to the theory that Switzer was their man. “I want to be able to tell my goddaughter and her father that she’s safe from this crazed maniac
…
no matter who he is.”

The two men dispensed with pleasantries as Eddie stood and left the office. He moved quickly in the direction of Rio, still sitting at her desk.

“Come on.” He motioned to her as he passed her desk. “We’ve got work to do.”

Rio pushed away from the desk and followed after him at an accelerated pace. “Eddie
,”
she said, catching up to him. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you when we get in the car,” he said, and continued toward the elevator.

Inside the compartment, neither of them spoke and the silence left Rio feeling awkward. She studied Eddie’s face as he punched the first-floor button, seeing something in his demeanor that she hadn’t seen in a long while—relief. He was excited about something, but what she couldn’t be sure.

He stepped back against the wall opposite her, stuffed his fingertips inside the front pockets of his Levi’s and looked up at her. His eyes no longer watched her with his recent, worrisome gleam. Instead, the glint of taunting amusement had returned. It made her feel giddy. Rio didn’t like that.

In fact, she hated it. All because of the reason Eddie was there. He was looking for a mole. Early on, he’d fingered her. That was something a girl didn’t get past easily.

* * *

Gabe Dalton chose to remain seated at his desk while Chris Bradley and Paul Rivera came to his doorway and hesitated to step inside the office. Gabe motioned them in with a quick wave. “Close the door behind you,” he said.

“Is everything okay, sir?” Bradley asked, once he and Rivera had claimed the two empty chairs in front of Gabe’s desk.

“Not really. No.” Gabe shook his head. “Blake Switzer is dead. He was killed in a car accident yesterday.”

Gasps and exclamations of surprise fell from Bradley and Rivera. They both straightened in their chairs and looked at Gabe as if asking for clarification.

“That’s why no one could locate him. But that’s not why I’ve summoned you two.” Gabe had released enough information until LaCall came back, with or without evidence to prove Switzer’s innocence or guilt. After both men looked at him with anxious glances, Gabe said, “Turner Atkins has admitted to rigging the poker tournament. Someone has to inform the Golden Sunset.”

Chris and Paul looked at each other and then back to Gabe, asking in unison, “Us?”

“Yes. And it has to be done today.” A spasm of despair twisted in Gabe’s gut. He knew what the investigation’s outcome could do to the casino. “We’ve got to give them a chance to stop that tournament before it goes any further.”

“LaCall doesn’t want to wrap this up himself?” Paul asked with a bit of curious disbelief.

“He’s busy with Switzer’s accident,” Gabe said, okay that he was speaking in half-truths. The less he said about Switzer—until LaCall returned—the better.

“We’ll get right on it,” Bradley said, preparing to stand. “Should we speak directly to Carpenter?”

“Yes.” Gabe paused and then issued a gentle warning, “Don’t breathe a word to anyone about the tournament being rigged until you talk to Carpenter.”

* * *

Rio and Eddie represented the first law enforcement agency to examine Blake Switzer’s house after his tragic and unexpected death. The fact that Eddie had already been there in search of evidence lingered in the back of his mind, tempting him with thoughts of failure again.

He can’t be that good
, Eddie argued with his senses. Bad guys slip up, sooner or later, and Switzer’s time had to be now. This was Eddie’s last chance since the guy was dead.

Rio paused at the front door and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Don’t worry,” Eddie said, resting his hand on the small of her back. “The guy’s dead. He can’t hurt you now.”

She shivered. “The guy still gives me the creeps,” she said just because she didn’t want him thinking his touch had anything to do with her reaction.

Truth be known, she wasn’t sure if she could separate the two. Sure, she was shaken over the revelation that Switzer had sent her those scornful letters and then he’d graduated to the more serious crime of attempting to kill her. Twice. But the clincher was the letter found inside his car after his death.

Admittedly, the way Blake always looked at her gave her the creeps, but she never would’ve suspected a colleague of wanting to do her harm.

Rio followed close behind Eddie as they crossed the threshold into Switzer’s bedroom. Goosebumps crawled over her skin at the thought of the things he’d contemplated doing to her—probably in this very room.

Even though she was out of Switzer’s reach now that he was dead, still she canvassed the room warily as if he were going to jump out of the shadows at any moment.

Everything about the room, and the house, was neat and tidy. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. Switzer’s home looked more like one of those fully furnished models used strictly as a means to sell a unit in a housing tract. The orderliness bothered Rio. How could anyone live in such meticulousness?

“Oh, I don’t like it in here.” She frowned as a chill breezed past her.

Eddie wrapped his hands around her shoulders. “He can’t hurt you. Not anymore.” He’d said the words before, but they’d come out stronger this time.

Yeah, but what about you?
Rio gave the thought a mental shake-off. This was no time to let him get to her. She needed to focus. There was too much at stake. The cop in her could easily guess that Eddie was all about finding what they’d come for—proof of Switzer’s guilt—and nothing more. Everything else was just a precursor to satisfying Gabe and her father’s trepidation.

Eddie’s hands swooped down her arms and breezed against her hands before he dropped to the floor. His examination beneath the bed turned up nothing. No surprises tucked away, hidden out of sight. Not a smidgen of dirt, no dust bunnies or the slightest speck of debris.

“You knew it was him all along.” Why hadn’t Rio seen it as clearly as Eddie? Was she losing her intuitive touch?

“I’ve had my suspicions almost from the beginning.” Eddie pushed himself off the floor and his gaze traveled around the room slowly. “Walters’ death, the flowers, the candy. They were pretty much my ace in the hole. Especially the flowers and candy. Those helped me convince Gabe that I might be on to something.”

“The flowers and candy?” Rio was flooded with curiosity as she watched Eddie riffle through the nightstands.

“Considering how much poison had been doused on the candy,” Eddie said, moving to the dresser. “It was clear that someone meant to kill you.” He opened the top drawer, searched it and then went on to the next. “It seemed a little weird that the roses weren’t dusted with a powder form of strychnine.” He paused, warding off the disappointment of finding nothing out of the ordinary yet. Drawing a deep breath, he eyed the chest of drawers near the closet.

“The roses would’ve affected anybody within a close proximity.” She followed him as he maneuvered about the room.

“Exactly,” Eddie said, delicately inspecting the contents of each drawer in the chest. “That’s when it occurred to me.”

“What?” she asked, as he opened the closet door.

“The sender didn’t care about exposing everyone around you to the poison in the candy,” he said, looking through the boxes on the upper shelf. “So why grow a conscience about exposing others to the toxic flowers?” Eddie searched a couple of printer paper cartons in the bottom of the closet. “I think that’s when Gabe really saw it.”

A hard dose of reality slammed into Rio like a hurricane force wind.

It made sense that the only person the unidentified sender was trying to save was himself. That sure made Blake look guilty. Still, something about the whole thing bothered her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but that didn’t lessen the inkling knotting in her gut. She wasn’t forgetting that she’d been way off the mark on this one either.

Eddie scooped up a boot-sized shoe box. “Hum…” He didn’t recall seeing it the last time he’d searched the house. If luck was on his side, it would turn out to be a significant find. “That’s when I knew for certain the stalker was one of us,” he said, lifting the lid. “And the only one of us that made sense was Switzer.” Eddie pulled a pair of ripped silk panties out of the box. The same ones he’d torn away from Rio’s body the night they’d made love in the limo.