Hot Shot, page 7
“I can almost feel the hot water pouring all over my body from fifty high-powered jets,” Alonzo said happily.
“I can’t wait to feel those silk sheets,” Miggy added, laughing.
“We’re almost there,” Alonzo said in a hushed voice.
Miggy turned serious and dropped again to his haunches so he was eyeball to eyeball with Alonzo. He licked at his lips, then asked in a harsh whisper, “Do you think we’ll have nightmares over this down the road?”
“Absolutely not,” Alonzo said.
Miggy wasn’t so sure, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
* * *
Back at the hotel penthouse suite, the only sounds to be heard were tapping keys and low-voiced cell phone conversations.
The sun was dropping beyond the horizon when Charles called a halt as Jack and Cyrus blew into the room like a hurricane.
“Sorry, guys, I didn’t mean to sleep so long, but I was really beat,” Jack said by way of apology. “What, if anything, did I miss?”
Charles took the floor. “The last report we’ve had, and it was from Lizzie herself, said Cosmo was now semiconscious. Dr. Wylie is more than pleased and is still with him. Lizzie said he was trying to talk, but it was just gibberish because he’s so full of drugs. She thinks he was trying to say something about Little Jack. He’s in and out, as she put it, but Dr. Wylie said that was all right. Both of them are cautiously optimistic. I do believe that is a good sign. In other words, no brain damage.”
Jack nodded. “Did that guy Meadows ever call back?”
“No!” Fergus said. “Dennis called again, and just like the other calls, it went right to voice mail. I’ve lost track of the number of calls we’ve made to that SOB. Something is not right where that man is concerned.”
“What do we know about him? Who was checking him out? Has anyone given any thought to calling in Snowden?”
“That’s three questions, Jack. Avery is on his way. He was in Seattle. He might even be here by now since I called him earlier. He’s free to go on the payroll. I was just about to call for a status report from the boys when you arrived, so let’s hear it, lads,” Charles said.
Dennis raised his hand to go first. Charles nodded.
“Background here first. The Nevada Gaming Control Board, also known as the State Gaming Control Board, is a Nevada state governmental agency involved in the regulation of gaming throughout the state, along with the Nevada Gaming Commission. It was founded in 1955 by the Nevada legislature. The Board is composed of three members appointed by the governor. Cosmo is one of those three. Board members serve four-year terms in a full-time capacity.
“The Commission is responsible for administering regulations, granting licenses, and ruling on disciplinary matters brought before it by the Gaming Control Board. It has five members appointed by the governor. Meadows is a member of the Commission, and each commissioner serves a four-year term in a part-time capacity. One member acts as chair. Meadows is the current chair. The Commission is the final authority on licensing matters, having the ability to approve, restrict, limit, condition, deny, revoke, or suspend any gaming license.
“The Commission is also charged with the responsibility of adopting regulations to implement and enforce the state laws governing gambling based on recommendations from the Control Board.
“When the Board believes discipline against a gaming license is appropriate, it acts as prosecutor, while the Commission acts as judge and jury to determine whether any sanctions should be imposed. Cosmo, as a lawyer and former federal prosecutor—like you, Jack—wears two hats.”
“Thanks for the tutorial, Dennis, but what does all that mean?” Jack demanded.
“I have no clue, Jack. Maybe Meadows and Cosmo had a falling out over something gambling related. On one hand, since the two of them jointly own the property, he would seem to be on good terms with Cosmo, or at least was on good terms. But on the other hand, professionally speaking, he’s chair of the Commission, meaning that he serves as judge and jury when the Control Board prosecutes casinos and the like for infractions of the rules. So you tell me. The guy can’t be that busy that he can’t return phone calls.”
“What about a personal relationship between the two of them? Did anything show up?” Charles asked.
“Aside from their being business partners in Happy Village, I can’t find out anything about their personal relationship. I think we’ll have to ask Lizzie, but I’m betting she’ll say that’s Cosmo’s business and doesn’t carry into their personal lives. We already know that while the Crickets routinely attend celebrations at Happy Village, Meadows doesn’t. That certainly makes it sound as if they don’t hang out together. Meadows is not married and has no family, as far as I can tell.”
“Who is more important? Who carries the most weight in Las Vegas, Cosmo or Meadows?” Fergus asked.
“I would say Cosmo. Cosmo was born and raised here. Vegas takes care of its own, you know that. Meadows came here about eighteen years ago. He’s originally from Tennessee. Cosmo was already established and has been honored as Lawyer of the Year for seven straight years. The guy is rock solid and sterling, as they say.
“If you dig deep enough, you’ll see that Cosmo is the go-to guy for the casino owners. They respect him, and he’s known as being able to ‘fix’ anything within the law. He is a lawyer, after all. There might be some envy there where Meadows is concerned. By the way, Meadows is also a lawyer.”
Jack snorted. “We already know what a great guy Cosmo is, otherwise Lizzie would never have married him. What else do you have?”
“What? What? That’s not enough? I’m trying here to learn as much as I can about Meadows, but I’ve only just gotten started. If that’s not good enough for you, Jack, then do it yourself,” Dennis snapped.
“Whoa, whoa! Sorry! I didn’t mean to step on your toes, kid.”
Mollified with Jack’s apology, Dennis went back to tapping on his laptop. Jack flapped his hands in the air to indicate his apology a second time just as Ted and Espinosa bounded into the room.
Everyone shouted at once. “What did you find out?” Even Cyrus, who had been silent until then, voiced his question with a loud bark.
“We can sum it up in three words,” Ted growled. “We were stonewalled.”
“You went to Happy Village?” Jack asked. “I thought . . .”
“Yeah, well, hold those thoughts. We switched up assignments after you left. Espinosa got some good pictures. There was no sign of that guy Gentry Lomax, though we asked. Those senior citizens are a tight-lipped group, and you can’t blame them for that. They do not take kindly to having outsiders ask questions. We started at the first apartment building in the complex and worked our way forward. We gave up before we got to the second building. They don’t open the doors to anyone, especially the elderly ladies. Even when we showed them our press credentials. The men were a little more cooperative, but not by much.
“The long and short of it is, we came up dry except for one elderly man who remembers Meadows’s mother being there, as she was two apartments down from his. He said she was a nice lady and baked the best chocolate cakes. He said she was there only three months before she passed away. He was a little taken aback by that, because he said she walked the complex in the morning and early evening for exercise, rode the stationary cycle at the gym, and swam two laps every day. He said she was fit as a fiddle. Oh, and she was rich. The old gent said someone else told him that but said you’d never know it by the way she dressed and all. Just a nice lady.”
Jack frowned. “What did she die from?”
Ted shrugged. “The old gent didn’t say other than that she died in her sleep. Contrary to what you might think, that place is not a gossip mill.”
“How long ago did she die, did the guy say?”
“He characterized it as ‘a while back.’ It could be last year or ten years ago. Then he just clammed up, and that was the end of it. I know, I know, I’m going to be checking the obits starting right now,” Ted said, sitting down at the dining-room table and opening his laptop.
Chapter 5
Maggie Spritzer stared into her bathroom mirror, wondering who the person staring back at her was. She looked like something the cat had dragged in and forgotten to drag back out. Yes, she’d come down with a killer summer cold, but she’d had colds before that never left her looking like the wrath of God. And she still felt like crap. Five days had passed since she’d taken to her bed with what she’d thought were the sniffles. Then came the fever, then the hacking cough, followed by the chills. She’d bought out the local pharmacy with treat-it-yourself meds. She knew she’d never be able to look at another bowl of chicken soup. Ditto for the garlic tea she’d read about online and Annie touted each time anyone was under the weather. Nothing had really helped, and she was forced to reconcile herself to the fact that the cold—or as she called it, the crud—just had to run its course.
Maggie leaned closer to the mirror to see if her eyes were glazed over and that was the reason she was looking so bedraggled. Nope. No glaze, eyes clear as crystal. She simply looked like hell warmed over. Even a ton of makeup wouldn’t help. She smacked the vanity countertop with a balled-up fist, then wished she hadn’t when a searing pain raced up her arm to settle in her shoulder.
A shower. Wash her hair. Clean clothes instead of these ratty pajamas she hadn’t changed in almost a week. I am a slob, she thought as she leaned forward to turn on the shower. She corrected the thought. She wasn’t a slob by nature; actually, she was neat and tidy for the most part. But once she’d come down with this rotten crud, she’d become a slob. How had she let that happen? Like she was really going to find the answer in the shower.
Forty minutes later, Maggie stepped out of the shower because she’d used up all the hot water. She dried her hair, brushed her teeth three times, and gargled with Listerine before she dressed in a set of fleece workout clothes even though it was July. It was all about being warm and staying warm, with no comeback chills. She wasn’t going anywhere, so it didn’t matter what she wore. All she wanted was to feel warm and better. A mere second later, she realized that she did feel better. So much better, her thoughts went to coffee and scrambled eggs, which she made and consumed in record time, her cat Hero watching her from his perch on the windowsill.
Maggie leaned over and turned on the television sitting on her kitchen counter. Time to see what was going on in the real world. She marveled at the fact that she hadn’t turned on the set in almost a week. She hadn’t checked her e-mail or voice mail either. The world could be coming to an end, and she’d never know. Or care. Just the sound of people talking hurt her head. She also hadn’t talked to anyone on the phone. Strange, now that she thought of it, that no one had called her the whole time she was sick. None of the sisters, or the boys. Not even Ted. That was so unlike him. Then she remembered that she’d called in to the Post, said she was sick and was taking a few sick days, and the first person who called her or showed up at her door risked being shot. She grimaced at the memory. How weird that they’d taken her at her word. Especially Ted. Unless he was off on assignment. But that didn’t explain mother hens Myra and Annie, who normally would be fussing all over her.
Maggie poured a fresh cup of coffee as she pondered her circumstances. It was Friday. Nothing happened in the newsroom on Friday, or the weekend, for that matter. Especially in the middle of July. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had a recollection of someone, maybe Annie, telling her to take the entire week off when she’d called in sick. If she was remembering correctly, that meant she had three days, counting today, before she was due back at work on Monday. She worried a stray strand of hair with her index finger as she mentally calculated how many hours she had to while away before she had to report to work on Monday. Counting today, give or take seventy-two. To her way of thinking, that was a lifetime. Almost eternity. She wasn’t used to sitting around or being sick. She must be getting old. The thought was very alarming, and she jumped up so fast that Hero hopped off the windowsill and ran for cover.
Right then and there, Maggie decided her life pretty much sucked. Big time.
Maggie knew what she needed to do. Move. Do something besides eat. Maybe she needed some fresh air. Take a walk around the yard. Go outside, sit on the stoop, and wait for a dog walker to go by for some conversation. One look out the window told her that wasn’t going to happen, since it was pouring rain.
Maggie plucked her cell phone from the charger to see if she’d had any calls that had gone to voice mail while she’d hibernated. She was stunned to see that she had forty-two messages. Listening to them would eat up an hour. “Better than nothing,” she mumbled to herself as she made her way into her family room and flopped down on the couch.
No calls from the sisters or the boys. So they’d done what she asked them to do; therefore, she couldn’t complain. They’d left her alone to her misery. All the calls were from friends, tips on possible happenings, crank calls, political calls. A dental reminder. A call from Hero’s vet to say his special cat food had come in and she could pick it up at any time. Well, there was no hurry on that, since she still had at least two weeks’ worth in the pantry. Hero wasn’t going to starve anytime soon.
Just because she couldn’t go back to work until Monday didn’t mean she couldn’t call the gang. She hit her speed dial and hit the number 1 for Nikki. The call went to voice mail. Ditto Alexis. Okay, that probably meant they were in court. She called Yoko, and the phone just rang and rang. Knowing Yoko, she’d probably left the phone someplace and couldn’t hear it ring. Isabelle was next on the speed dial, but a robotic voice came on saying her phone was timed out. Whatever that meant. The next call went to Kathryn, who picked up on the second ring. All Maggie could hear her saying was that she couldn’t hear her and she was in a dead zone.
Maggie looked at the phone in her hand. Surely Myra or Annie would respond. She called Annie first. When Annie clicked on, Maggie sighed so loud that Hero popped his head out from under a pillow where he was hiding to stare at his mistress.
“How are you, dear? Are you feeling better?”
“I am. By Monday I should be good as new. Is everything okay? Anything going on? Did I miss anything?”
Annie debated telling her star reporter about Cosmo but decided it would only upset Maggie to hear about it. “No, dear, everything is fine. Just take care of yourself and don’t overdo anything. Rest. Eat lots of chicken soup, and don’t forget the garlic tea. You’ll be right as rain if you do that.”
“Yes, Mom,” Maggie drawled. “Say hi to the girls for me.”
“Well, that was a bust, Hero,” Maggie said, as the tawny cat leaped onto her lap and started to purr. “I guess I can call the guys. Maybe they’re up to something. You never know where they’re concerned. I think I’ll call Ted first.”
Maggie hit the number 7 on her speed dial and was stunned when Ted picked up on the first ring. “Good Lord, where are you? It sounds like an amusement park.”
“Vegas, baby,” Ted said flippantly.
“Las Vegas! And you didn’t tell me! What are you doing there?” Maggie screeched so loud that Hero flew off her lap.
“Give me five minutes to find a place that’s a little more quiet and I’ll call you back. Are you okay?”
“If I wasn’t okay, I wouldn’t be calling you,” Maggie snapped. “This better be good, Ted.”
“What? What? You specifically said not to call you or show up, and if any of us did, you would shoot us. Those are your exact words, Maggie. I just did what you insisted that everyone do. Now, give me five minutes and I’ll call you right back.”
Maggie had the good grace to wince at Ted’s words. Yes, she did say that, and at the time she sort of, kind of, meant it, but Ted knew her. He should have at least tried to call her after three days. She seethed, then started to chew on her thumbnail, a terrible habit she’d had since childhood.
Five minutes went by, then ten, and finally fifteen before Maggie’s cell pinged. She clicked it on bullet fast. “So what are you doing in Vegas?”
Maggie could hear Ted suck in a deep breath. “Well, you know we all went to Reno for the martial arts competition with Harry. We talked about that before we left, so don’t go saying you didn’t know about it,” Ted said testily.
“Okay, okay, yes, you did, but Reno is not Las Vegas.”
“Of course it isn’t. Jack heard on the radio that some big VIP in Vegas got gunned down, and he said from what he heard he thought it was Cosmo Cricket. So on that alone we came here to see if Jack was right, and he was. This is Vegas, and they didn’t mention names. Someone shot up Cosmo pretty bad. He’s had two operations and is in the ICU. He almost died, Maggie, that’s how bad it was. Is, actually. Lizzie is with him. They weren’t sure whether he’d make it. The surgeon is cautiously optimistic. That’s all I know, Maggie.”
“And you didn’t think that was important enough to tell me, Ted? How could you do that? I could have been praying for him all this time. That’s just cruel of you. Plain old cruel,” Maggie said tearfully. “How is Lizzie holding up? Why aren’t the girls there with her?”
“She doesn’t want anyone, Maggie. Just like you didn’t want anyone. We were already here, so she has to put up with us. There’s no point in getting upset, since there’s nothing you could do even if you knew or even if you were here. We’re all just more or less trying to find our way ourselves. No one seems to have the skinny on how or even why Cosmo was shot. Lizzie is totally clueless.”
“You need me there,” Maggie said. “More to the point, I want to be there.”
“Yes, we do,” Ted responded smartly. “Do you want me to ask Dennis if he can get his Gulfstream fired up to bring you here?”
“What kind of idiotic question is that? I can be ready in ten minutes.”
“You sure you’re up to it?”
Maggie clenched her teeth. “I’m up to it. Call me when the plane is ready, and I’m out the door.”
