Karen Olson - The Missing Ink

“Crazy” was the right word for Sylvia.

“You know, I had to take your client,” I said, barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry; I forgot about him.”

“I took care of it,” I said, whispering now. I didn’t much care at this moment whether Joel missed a client or not, although we’d revisit this later, when I was out of this jam.

“Thanks. Hey, why is your voice so quiet? Where are you?”

I told him, and I told him how I had ended up here. “I need someone to get me out before Chase or Manning shows up and finds me here.”

“Why would someone pretend to be Chase and ask you to go there?”

I had no clue.

“Why don’t you text back and ask?”

“Now there’s something I hadn’t thought of. Text the murderer, or whoever he is, and ask directly what’s up.”

Joel was quiet a second, then, “Why not?”

Had to admit, the idea was growing on me. But first things first.

“Just come and get me, okay?” I paused. “Tell the guy at the front desk that you’re Minnie to see Mickey.” Considering Joel’s suspected persuasion, that wasn’t far from the truth.

“That’s stupid.”

“Yeah, it is. But it’ll get you up here.”

“Where exactly do I go?”

I told him which floor and gave him directions to Chase’s office. “How soon can you be here? I really can’t have Chase find me.”

“Why don’t you just tell him what happened?”

“Because that’s like Lucy trying to explain to Ricky why she’s sitting out on the ledge.”

“All right, all right. I’m only about ten minutes out. Hang tight.” And he ended the call.

Hanging tight was about all I could do. Except… well, I was in Chase’s office, and there really should be a twelve-step program for snooping. With nothing on top of the desk, I tried the drawers-forgetting the Kleenex until it was too late-but they were locked. Looked like I wasn’t going to be falling off the wagon.

There wasn’t even a computer or a laptop or anything that looked remotely interesting. Except maybe the bar.

The little fridge wasn’t locked, and it was well stocked with Heineken and Corona. I took a bottle of the latter, twisted off the top, and shoved a slice of lime I found in a little bowl down the neck. It fizzled as it sank, and I took a long drink. It was cold and satisfying. I took another swallow. I’d have to slow down, though, because if I didn’t watch out, I’d end up passed out on the couch like Chip.

Bored, I paced the room, eyeing a door that was probably a closet. I had nothing better to do, so I pulled on the knob.

It was more than a closet. It was the size of my bedroom, with about fifty monitors flickering gray and white images of the casino floor, the lobby, the restaurants, even the restrooms.

Nothing was hidden in Vegas; little black domes in the ceilings of every resort and casino displayed the good, the bad, and the ugly. Everyone was watched constantly. Cheating was not to be tolerated, at least in the gambling sense.

I suspected that this wasn’t the only room with monitors; Versailles probably had a whole floor of security personnel checking them out. This was probably a backup for Chase’s own personal pleasure.

I scanned the casino monitors, watched some people playing blackjack, roulette. I didn’t understand craps, even though Tim had tried to explain it hundreds of times. He said it was the only game you could actually really win.

The lobby flickered with reflections off the mirrors, and something familiar caught my eye. Joel was lumbering through the front revolving door; he made better time than he’d expected. My heart jumped with the thought that I’d be out of here soon and no one would be the wiser.

I was getting used to the silence when the phone on Chase’s desk rang again, the unexpected sound causing me to spit beer on myself. Great. Now I’d smell like a brewery when Joel got here. He’d think I was enjoying myself. Hey, get locked in a casino office and have a kegger.

Chase’s voice blared through the office, and I ducked behind the door before I realized that it was his message machine. I must have hit the speakerphone button earlier. I relaxed a little.

But the next voice made me tense up.

“Simon? It’s Elise. Meet me where the Elvises hang out. Seven o’clock.”

Elise? Elvises?

But before I could wrap my head around it, another noise-a familiar noise-crashed into the silence.

I tightened my grip on the bottle for lack of any other plan.

Because it was the door. The outside door. I heard it open.

Joel couldn’t have made it up here that fast. Panic rose in my chest, and without thinking, I ran back into the monitor room and shut the door behind me. Maybe not the smartest thing to do, but getting caught wasn’t high on my list of priorities at the moment.

Heavy footsteps.

“Chase?” The big voice bounced off the walls. Manning.

I heard him open the bathroom door. Guess he didn’t much respect people’s personal privacy.

It didn’t bode well for me, since this room was the only other option, and when the footsteps came close, I held my breath, hoping I could just flatten myself against the wall behind the door and not be noticed.

The knob turned, and a sliver of light sliced into the room, cutting across the monitors. Seconds felt like hours, then-

“Bruce?”

I hadn’t heard Simon Chase come in because I’d been too distracted by Manning, who pulled the door shut with a slam.

Their voices were muffled, like they were talking inside a tunnel.

“You were supposed to meet me in the lobby.” Manning wasn’t happy. But was he ever? “I left you a message.”

“I didn’t get it. I’ve been downstairs.” I imagined Chase going over to his desk to check his phone. The red light was blinking.

“We really need to take care of this.” The urgency was clear in Manning’s voice.

“I understand, but can you trust me on this? It’s better if he just goes back for a while. He can come back later. In a month or so. When it’s all died down.”

I wondered if they were talking about Chip. Maybe Chip really did kill Matt Powell.

My foot had fallen asleep. I shifted a little, the pins and needles shooting up through my calf and causing me to slip. The bottle slid out of my palm-I’d almost forgotten that I was holding it-and I squatted, trying to catch it, but it landed with a thud on the floor.

“Did you hear that?”

I held my breath again at Manning’s words.

“Hear what?”

Nothing for a couple of seconds; I let my breath out softly through my nose.

“Guess it was nothing. Anyway, Chase, I expect you to take some action on this. Show me what you can do for me.”

“You know I will, Bruce.”

A loud knock interrupted, and I froze.

“Yes?”

“Oh, well, oh…” It was Joel. He was here for me, but he didn’t expect a party.

“Yes, yes, we have an appointment, don’t we?” Chase’s English accent wrapped itself around his words. Smooth, very smooth.

Chase told Manning that he had to attend to this right now, but he’d be with him in about half an hour, would that be all right?

“Aren’t you-”

Chase cut Manning off as he continued his good-byes. Finally, a door shut.

Not even a second later, the door next to me swung wide, and Chase stepped in, circling around a second before spotting me.

“What are you doing here?”

I didn’t say anything.

“I heard a noise, and when your friend came in, I figured it might be you. What are you doing?”

“Why didn’t you come in, then? When you heard me?” It was easier to ask the questions than answer them.