Murder or Bust (We're Not Dead Yet Club Book 3) Page 3

  He turned quietly back to the bar, and gestured to the bartender that he wanted to pay the bill.

  “I can’t believe it,” the bartender muttered. “Ava dead and Robert the murderer. It doesn’t seem right to me…”

  “No, it doesn’t…” Cecil replied, leaning thoughtfully against the bar. “I should help him…”

  The bartender laughed. “With respect, sir, I don’t think you helped matters much there. You should leave it to the manager. He’ll sort it all out.”

  “The manager? Of this place?”

  The bartender nodded, handing Cecil his change. “Dan Cardello. He’s a good guy, Dan – he’ll get Robert the finest lawyers. You know, real ones…”

  Cecil felt his face grow red with embarrassment. “I don’t suppose you have his number do you?”

  A few minutes later, Cecil was rushing towards the slot machines. He wasn’t sure what else he could do to help his friend, but he knew of a group of ladies who could.

  And they were all at the slot machines at that very moment…

  Chapter Five – The Slot Machine Briefing

  “Did you see that?”

  “See what?”

  Hazel gestured vaguely in the direction of the main entrance to the hotel as a large group of figures moved their way swiftly outside.

  “It’s a group of police officers,” she said thoughtfully. “I wonder what’s going on there.”

  Ida May slotted another $5 bill into the machine and pulled back on the lever. It was only when the dials started turning that she took a brief moment to shoot an irritated glance at her friend.

  “It’s not happening, girls. I’m on a roll.”

  Clara craned her neck in the direction of the main entrance. Hazel was right – there were a large number of police officers moving outside followed closely by an elderly man wearing a dazzling red suit. The man was handcuffed and being led by a stern looking fellow who, Clara presumed – correctly as it turned out – to be the lead detective. She continued to watch as the group finally disappeared outside the doors and the last of the curious onlookers had returned to whatever game they were playing.

  “I wonder what that’s about,” she mumbled.

  “It’s no good, Clara,” Ida May replied, now pushing the little blinking button on the machine. “You’re not going to drag me away from this machine, and that is final!”

  “But Ida May, we promised to meet up for dinner. You’ve already been on this same machine for nearly two hours. What more do you want?”

  Ida May silenced her with a quick flick of her wrist, barely even taking her eyes off the spinning wheels. Hazel turned solemnly towards Clara and gave a slight shrug.

  “I guess it’s just us then, dear,” she said, her voice low and almost sorrowful.

  “I suppose,” Clara replied, throwing one last look at their slot-addicted friend. “I’m sure we can find some way to amuse ourselves without Ida May…”

  “Clara!”

  Cecil darted out from behind a nearby slot machine, almost causing Hazel to have a heart attack right then and there.

  “Cecil, you stupid ass, what the hell are you doing?”

  Clara knew straight away that something was wrong. Cecil wasn’t usually one to be flustered. In fact, Clara would later go on to consider Cecil one of the most unshakeable men she’d ever met. The only real time she’d ever seen him look concerned about anything was when Ida May practically had him tried and executed for murder at a wedding some time before. Even then, he hadn’t looked anywhere near as pale, gaunt and sweaty as he did while leaning unsteadily up against the nearest slot machine.

  Hazel and Clara had the same idea at the same time – it just so happened that Hazel was the first to verbalize it:

  “Oh no, Cecil, you haven’t been caught cheating, have you?”

  Cecil waved a denying hand. “Nothing like that,” he replied breathlessly. “Something much worse.”

  He quickly explained what had happened to Ava Lemiux and how the police had arrested Robert Gillette. As he recounted the story, Hazel and Clara listened with eager ears, their eyes growing wider by the second as the inevitable call of a new case beckoned them from Cecil’s panicking lips…

  “You have to help him,” Cecil finished, taking a deep breath and collapsing into a nearby chair.

  “Of course,” Clara replied instantly. “We’ll look into it right away…”

  “Although with the LVPD involved, it may be harder than usual,” Hazel replied, her eyes shimmering with worry. “They don’t know us here, remember?”

  Of course, Hazel was right. But Clara had already thought about it – she was always the clever one of the girls. Really clever and the binding glue of the team. If Ida May or Hazel were to leave the We’re Not Dead Yet Club, Clara would be certain to carry on regardless. But if Clara were to leave, I’m sure the whole thing would…

  Ahem.

  Yes, of course. Back to the story.

  Clara hummed a little as she thought. “We need to find Percy,” she declared. “He’s a lawyer. He might be able to get the police to tell him stuff that they won’t tell us…”

  “Ah.”

  Cecil’s eyes dropped guiltily to the floor.

  “Ah? What do you mean, Ah?”

  “I mean, Ah,” replied Cecil.

  Hazel raised a hand in the air: “Is that an Ah as in A-ha, I’ve solved the case, or an Ah like Ah, I may have made an error – Ah…?”

  “I mean, Ah.”

  “Yes, but what kind of Ah, dear?”

  “As in, Ah – the police have already met Percy, and I’m not sure they’re too impressed with him…”

  “Ah,” Clara replied. “He’s not drunk is he?”

  Cecil thought for a moment before nodding. “You could say that, yes…”

  Hazel sighed and frowned. “He didn’t make a fool of himself, did he?”

  “Almost certainly…”

  Clara and Hazel exchanged curious glances. It wasn’t like Cecil to interfere so willingly in something that must have been quite a shock to all concerned. It certainly wasn’t in Cecil’s character to do so while drunk…

  “You never know, do you?” Hazel muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. “You think you know someone…”

  Cecil shrugged his shoulders, his face slowly becoming an interesting shade of red. “Regardless, I don’t think Percy will be of much use to you…”

  “It would seem not,” Clara replied. “Is there anyone else who can help?”

  “Dan Cardello,” Cecil replied instantly. “He’s Robert’s manager here. The bartender seemed to think he would sort Robert out…”

  “Did he say where we could find him?”

  Cecil smiled. “I did one better…”

  He held out a small scrap of paper towards Clara. She glanced down at it and instantly recognized a series of numbers for a cell phone. She smiled up at Cecil.

  “Oh Cecil, you are clever…”

  “I try my best, ma’am…”

  It was just as Clara reached out to grab the paper that it happened. Ida May’s slot machine began to make all manner of excitable noises: bells, whistles and merry tunes.

  “I won,” Ida May screeched, leaping to her feet and knocking the paper right out of Cecil’s hands. “I’ve only gone and won…”

  Clara watched helplessly as the paper fluttered in the air for a moment before swooping down towards the carpeted floor. Before either Cecil or Clara could react, the flimsy paper was caught in the gust of wind from a passing foot and disappeared out of sight beneath one of the slot machines. As the pair stared down at the spot where they’d last seen the crucial contact details, Ida May pranced up and down and began dancing a merry jig.

  “One hundred dollars worth,” she called out happily. “A hundred dollars. All that work was worth it…”

  Hazel stepped beside her and happily squeezed her friend’s shoulder.

  “That’s wonderful, Ida May,” she said. “How much did
you put in?”

  “Never you mind,” came the curt response.

  “Was it a lot?”

  “Quiet, Hazel,” Ida May shot back. “I’m counting my winnings…”

  Hazel looked confused for a moment. “But why would you count when the amount is…”

  “Shut up Hazel!”

  Clara and Cecil weren’t paying either of them very much attention. They were still staring down at the tiny crack beneath the slot machine where the paper had unhelpfully slid. After a few moments of thought, Clara turned back to Cecil.

  “I don’t suppose you can ask the bartender for it again, can you?”

  Chapter Six – Cardello

  As it turned out, Ida May had been so focused on her slot machine, that she hadn’t even realized that Cecil had joined them, let alone hear anything of the trouble his friend was in. At first Clara decided that she and Cecil would go back to the bar to ask the bartender for Don Cardello’s number again while Hazel explained what was going on to Ida May. But then it was pointed out – by Ida May incidentally – that Hazel’s recollection of facts and situations could hardly be trusted at the best of times, let alone when a man’s life potentially hung in the balance. So, instead it was decided that Cecil would go back to the bar as Clara explained the situation…

  With Hazel’s help…

  “So, there is a lounge singer who murdered his girlfriend…”

  “No, Hazel, the police think the lounge singer murdered his girlfriend.”

  “Oh. Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Oh. And Cecil knows the girlfriend…”

  “No, Cecil knows the lounge singer…”

  “A guy called Cardello…”

  “No, Hazel. Cardello is the manager. Robert is the lounge singer.”

  “Are you sure? I thought it was the other way around…”

  With Clara and Hazel’s explanation ringing in his ears, Cecil quickly made his way back towards the bar. The last few minutes had been terribly sobering for him – although he couldn’t quite put his finger on what about it had cured him of his temporary inebriation. Was it the realization that his friend might be going down for murder, or was it the dawning worry that his friend’s best hope lay in the hands of the three people that had labeled him the prime suspect in for the murder of that groomsman chap at the wedding?

  He wasn’t sure either way – and at that moment he didn’t really care. All he needed to do was to get that contact number.

  As it happened, he didn’t even need to ask the bartender for it. As he rounded the corner, he spotted a man dressed in a very smart, black suit talking animatedly with the bartender. As Cecil drew nearer, the bartender gestured towards him and muttered:

  “This is the gentleman, sir…”

  The suited man turned sharply, took a moment to scan Cecil with his disapproving eyes before a large, and obviously insincere, smile swept across his face.

  “Sir, my name is Don Cardello, I am the manager of this hotel and casino…”

  “Mr Cardello,” Cecil replied, shaking the manager by the hand. “I’m pleased to have found you…”

  “Yes, my employee here told me you were looking for me…”

  Cardello shot an irritated look at the bartender, who instantly shied away to clean some glasses. Cardello turned back and once again flashed that same smile.

  “I’m terribly sorry about the ordeal you’ve been through…”

  “It was most unexpected.”

  “Yes, quite. I’m sure it was terrible having guns waved at you. But I hope you understand that, as powerful as casinos are in this town, we don’t have any control over the local police. Not even I am that corrupt.” He laughed at his own joke. “However, by means of compensation, I’m hoping you will accept a one hundred dollar chip to spend as you like in the casino or bar. I trust that will alleviate any inconvenience this unfortunate event may have caused you…”

  “Well, Mr. Cardello…”

  “Excellent,” Cardello replied, turning to the bartender. “John, will you see to it, please?”

  “Yes, Mr. Cardello.”

  “Actually, it’s far more complicated than that.”

  Cardello paused, his eyebrows quivering somewhat as his eyes once again darted up and down Cecil’s body. “Oh? How so?”

  “Robert Gillette is a friend of mine,” Cecil explained. “I would like to know precisely what is going on with him…”

  Cardello hesitated for a moment before returning to his previous, jolly demeanor.

  “Well, I’m afraid I’m in the dark as much as you are…”

  “Do you want Robert to be proven innocent or not?”

  The question caught Cardello completely off guard. “Well, yes, naturally. Robert was my last big act. If he goes down for murder, that will as good as ruin me…”

  Cecil stepped forward, placing his lips close to Cardello’s ear.

  “I have some friends,” he explained. “Some very useful friends who could help us sort this little problem.”

  “Really?” Cardello muttered back. “How so?”

  “They are detectives – with a perfect track record… Well, near enough perfect.”

  “Detectives, you say?”

  “Yes,” Cecil replied. “And if you tell me what you know, I can make sure they know as well. So, you know, they will know what you know because I’ll know what you know and tell them what you know, you know?”

  Cardello paused. “No.”

  Cecil sighed deeply. “Look, just tell me what you know and they’ll make sure he gets off with it.”

  Cardello thought carefully before answering. “You are sure of this?”

  “Quite sure.”

  “And if he’s guilty?”

  “He isn’t…”

  That seemed to be good enough for Cardello for the time being. With a brief flutter of his hand, he sent the bartender off to his own duties, grasped Cecil gently around the shoulder and began walking with him in between the nearby rows of slot machines.

  “The police have been here for the last few hours,” he muttered. “They told me not to tell anyone until they had a suspect under wraps…”

  “They told you, or you told them?”

  Cardello shrugged. “It’s the same difference. Anyway, Ava Lemiux was found dead in Robert’s dressing room. She’d been bludgeoned over the head with one of Robert’s trophies. No one, apart from Robert and his girlfriends at the time go in there, so no one else is a suspect…”

  “No one?”

  “No one.” Cardello came to a stop and turned to face Cecil. “If your friends can get him out of that, then they are more intelligent than I.”

  Cecil nodded confidently. “I can assure you, sir, they are more intelligent than all of us…”

  “Oh, Cecil…”

  Hazel burst around the corner of a nearby slot machine, followed closely by Ida May and Clara. She clattered into a waitress, sending a tray of glasses flying out in all directions, shattering against the floor and machines around them. She trotted straight towards Cecil, barging Cardello out of the way before coming to a stop and smiling manically.

  “We couldn’t remember, dear,” she said rapidly, ignoring Cardello’s squirms of pain. “Was Ava a stripper or a showgirl?”

  Chapter Seven – While Cecil Was Away…

  In order to understand Hazel’s strange outburst, it’s important to know two things:

  One, Hazel has grasped the wrong end of enough sticks to build the wrong side of a little piggy’s house.

  And two, the best way to convince Ida May to step away from a slot machine when she is winning, is to give her something exciting to spend her winnings on.

  So, as Cecil was heading back over to the bar and meeting Don Cardello for the first time, Clara and Hazel spent the vast amount of their energy attempting to wrench Ida May away from the slot machine. Having finally trading in her ticket for dollar bills, Ida May turned back towards the m
achine and – with a glint of mischief in her eye – proceeded to place a dollar back in the slot machine.

  Clara’s hand shot out like a bullet, grasping hold of Ida May’s. The gambler turned towards her, with an expression that seemed to be a mixture of shock at Clara’s sudden display of strength and rage at her impudence for standing between her and the machine.

  “Don’t you want to know about the case?” Clara said, gently releasing Ida May’s hand and taking a step or two back.

  “What?” Ida May asked. Her eyes flickered to the dollar in her hand and the machine in front of her. She gently lowered the dollar and stared at it for a long time. “Oh, very well then.”

  To Clara’s dismay, Hazel took over from there.

  “So, there is a lounge singer who murdered his girlfriend…”

  “No, Hazel,” Clara interrupted, shrugging her shoulders at Ida May in a way that seemed to say – oh dear, she’s got another stick. “The police think the lounge singer murdered his girlfriend.”

  Hazel stuttered to a halt, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she thought about something before darting back down to look at Clara.

  “Oh. Isn’t that the same thing?”

  Clara shook her head.

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Oh.” Hazel thought for a moment longer and then shrugged her shoulders. She turned back towards Ida May. “And Cecil knows the girlfriend…”

  “No, Cecil knows the lounge singer…”

  “A guy called Cardello…”

  “No, Hazel. Cardello is the manager. Robert is the lounge singer.”

  “Are you sure? I thought it was the other way around…”

  It’s hard to say who was more confused at that point in time: Hazel with her misunderstanding of the facts, or Clara, whose comprehension of the case was quickly becoming rattled by her friend’s mistakes.

  “I don’t think so,” Clara said, hesitantly. “I’m sure Cecil said his friend was the lounge singer…”