Death on the Strip (Death Card Series Book 1) Read online

  I talked to my little silky dog, Sweet Pea, telling her not to worry. I would be back later that night. With tail down, she left me, heading to her dog bed, unhappy to be staying home. Exactly 20 minutes later, Melissa pulled up in her brand new blue Honda CV-R. I could hear grumbling coming from the back seat of the car. “Come on, lady, hurry it up. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

  Why do you think I’m going to the airport, I fumed silently. I gave him a pained expression and shook my head in irritation. “Hold on, Cowboy, I’m coming.”

  As Melissa took my carryon luggage from me, the man hopped out of his seat to help her lift it into the back of the car. I opened the door to the back seat and hopped in. The man climbed back in and scowled at me, irritating me even more. “What’s your problem, Cowboy?” I asked. I had no patience for rudeness.

  “I’m a reporter. I have to catch my flight to Reno. Because we had to pick you up, I’ll probably miss it.”

  “Really,” I said with disgust. “Don’t worry. You’re not going to miss your flight so just calm down.”

  “How do you know?” he asked with annoyance.

  Melissa and I locked eyes in the car’s rear view mirror. It was then that I noticed she had a black eye. She saw me staring and immediately turned away. All is not well, I thought. Too bad.

  I turned my attention back to my fellow passenger, giving him the once over. Nice looking. No, I thought, more than that. Really nice looking with his deep red curly hair and bright blue eyes. He acted like he knew it, too.

  I turned away to look out the window and get a grip on my thoughts. Strange, I haven’t been interested in any man since my former fiancé died three years ago. And now, here was this very irritating man who had stirred my thoughts. Enough! I admonished myself. You don’t have time for this! Besides, a man in your life is the last thing you need! They are nothing but trouble.

  The reporter was readying himself and his backpack to jump out of the car at the first opportunity. As we pulled curbside of Terminal A, he hopped out. As he did so, his business card fell to the floor of the car. I picked it up. His name was Brian Boyce. He handed a wad of cash to Melissa and raced away inside the swinging doors. I opened my door and headed to the back of the car to collect my bag. Melissa met me there and pulled the bag from the back, tucking her head into the turned up collar of her jacket to hide her face.

  “Melissa, if you’re in trouble or need any help, please let me help you.”

  “I’m okay,” she muttered. “Just don’t let my boss know there were two of you in the car for the airport ride, okay? He doesn’t know I picked up a side job and I don’t want to get in trouble.”

  I nodded my head. “Just be careful. Don’t put up with anything or anyone who doesn’t treat you right, do you hear?” I warned. “Remember my offer,” I added. “Call me if you need me.”

  Melissa just nodded her head and moved to the front of the car. But not before I saw a tear running down her cheek. She straightened her shoulders and climbed into the driver’s seat. She pulled away as I stood there watching her go. With a deep sigh, I went into the terminal to go through security and head to my gate.

  My thoughts traveled to Melissa and her obvious plight. I had had only one other client who had been in her line of business. It hadn’t ended well. The Death card had come up in her reading too, and later she had been found dead of an overdose. I had vowed at that time not to get involved again with anyone who was a stripper. And now, here I was stretching out a hand to Melissa. Sometimes, I never seem to learn.

  The trips into Los Angeles to meet with Sarah at the magazine’s office were usually fun. Today was different. I was still thinking about Melissa and her situation when I reached Los Angeles. I literally ran into a couple outside the Women Living Well offices who were arguing. They were young and seemed high on something.

  I heard the girl ask, “Ow! Why did you slap me?”

  “Because you pissed me off,” he answered. “I told you before not to keep asking me for a hit. I’ve given you enough.”

  “Just one more,” she pleaded, stepping back so he couldn’t reach her.

  The guy looked at me and hollered, “What are you looking at, bitch? Why don’t you mind your own business? C’mon, let’s get out of here,” he said as he pulled the girl along with him.

  What the heck? What is going on? What is the world coming to? I wondered as I walked into the building. I thought how happy I used to be holed up in my little house writing and doing my readings, escaping life. Those days were gone. After Jeff’s death, my escape from life today has me feeling incomplete. I live a somewhat safe, boring life --- a pretty selfish one, actually. Thank God, I was finally beginning to get interested in living a much fuller life again. Wasn’t it about time? I chided myself.

  As soon as she saw me, Sarah came bouncing out of her office. She threw her arms around me. “I’m so glad to see you, Rosie! I’ve got some exciting news! We’re going to take our magazine up a notch and do more reality stories. I want you to be the first one on board. C’mon in so I can explain.”

  I sat wide-eyed with excitement as she explained. “I have the approval of the entire magazine staff to expand what we do to address more fully what you and I both know is going on with the way things are playing out today. There’s so much physical and verbal violence from men toward women, and vice versa. Even words of songs strongly devalue women or call us bitches. No one seems to say anything nice any more. Have we all lost our sense of courtesy? We want to step up our magazine to recognize and talk about the world as it is! Are you with me?”

  “Well, it’s certainly about time to have more push-back for sure. What exactly is it you want me to do?”

  “I was thinking since you live in Las Vegas, you could report on what you see that’s really going on there. I’m sure that’ll provide you plenty of material. Since we are a magazine about women, we’re trying to bring to the forefront that it is we women who have the power to demand changes ... how we are treated and represented whether it is sexually, financially or any other way. You could feature those who have made a difference. This extends to all the other issues, as well. What we’re asking you to do is become more aware of what’s hip in Las Vegas. We want both the glamorous and even its seamier side. Then report back to us what you’ve learned in the form of a monthly column.”

  Sarah stopped just long enough to catch her breath. “Oh, and also how we women can be more effective in changing society for the better. Of course, once again, that also means featuring some of the shakers and movers in Vegas who are doing just that – both female and male. Obviously, you could use a different name if you wanted to separate yourself from your existing column. But perhaps you can give it a twist with your mind/body/spirit sort of thing, too. Would this work for you? Are you interested?” she asked with excitement. “Oh, please say, yes!”

  Remembering the incident with the couple outside the magazine’s offices, a headache was beginning to form. “Well, let me think about it.”

  “We’d pay you your regular rate and if it takes off, there may be more money in it for you. Of course, you’d still have your own spiritual column as usual with your name and by-line. In the next month or so, send us a couple of potential articles. We want to review them before we change the slant of the magazine with what you and some others will be contributing.”

  In spite of having worked with Sarah for quite a while now, she had no idea that I was an intuitive and read Tarot cards. Maybe that’d be an advantage for me. Could I really do a good enough job for them? I’d become even more secluded since the death of my fiancé. I tended to hide behind my writings. I’d not been willing to step out and steep myself into the negative energies of living in today’s world. Yes, this certainly would be a challenge.

  My grandmother whispered, “This will bring some excitement into your life and you will be helping others, just in a differe
nt way.”

  I waved my grandmother’s voice away at her interference and looked up to see Sarah staring at me in a questioning way. “Is that your answer? No?”

  “Oh, no,” I countered. “Just brushing some hair away.”

  We both knew it was time for me to step out of my self-made shell and do more. “If you believe I can do what you’re looking for, then you can count on me. I’m willing to at least give it a try.”

  “Wonderful!” cried Sarah. “I knew you’d want to be a part of this. We’ll send you the outline of what we are looking for and the contract covering all aspects of this new assignment. Let’s grab some lunch so we can get caught up on other things, okay?”

  I arrived home with an air of excitement. I was glad I’d be doing something different. No question I would have much more to learn. Becoming a Las Vegas sleuth was exciting, just in a scary sort of way. I hoped I’d made the right choice to charge ahead. Time would tell.

  CHAPTER 3

  For the second morning in a row, I woke up exhausted from a night of tossing and turning. I was excited about the prospect of my new writing assignment for the magazine. I grabbed my robe and headed downstairs. I let Sweet Pea out the back to do her thing. Then I headed to the front door to retrieve the newspaper that usually awaited me. As I bent down to pick it up, I saw a fat tan envelope that had been stuffed half-way under the door mat. I grabbed it and the newspaper and entered the house, tossing the newspaper aside onto the kitchen counter.

  I clasped the bulging envelope with my first name written across it while I searched for a knife to slit it open. I was anxious to see what was inside. As I emptied it, dollar bills flew everywhere. Then a white envelope with “Mom” written on it and a scrap of white note paper dropped to the floor. I picked up the small sheet of paper to see a handwritten note:

  “Rosie, you were right. It’s not so easy getting out of my kind of business. I’m going to need your help, after all. I’ll call you later today to explain so we can make arrangements. Meantime, if something happens to me, please be sure my mother gets this money and her letter. Thanks, Melissa.” Her mother’s address was at the bottom.

  I gathered the bills together and counted them out - $23,345 dollars. Wow! That’s quite a pile for a driver of PUP, I thought. As I studied the money, I envisioned several men arguing with Melissa, and it seemed not at all likely the money was from PUP. Oh, damn! Now what?

  I began to read the beginning of the letter to her mother and returned it to its envelope when I saw, “I’m sorry, Mom, for all the trouble I caused you…” This was personal and not anything related to me nor something I had a right to read.

  I made myself a cup of coffee and turned on the TV to watch the morning news. It was going to be hot today. No surprise for May weather here. The president was going to give a speech tonight on the economy --- what a roller coaster ride that is! The female commentator’s voice broke in as she announced another murder had taken place last night in Las Vegas. The victim had been beaten to death, she said, and left alongside the road next to her running car.

  As I looked at the car, I recognized the blue Honda CR-V. I knew who the victim was - Melissa. My stomach roiled as the coffee turned to acid inside my belly. I sat on the couch for a while catching my breath, calming myself. My heart sank. Poor Melissa!

  I knew my first story about what was happening in Las Vegas was going to be about her death. Maybe about any possible connection of her being a stripper here in Las Vegas. I felt her death must’ve had something to do with that. I desperately wanted to find out what’d happened to her and why. Yet, I wasn’t exactly sure where to begin. Obviously, I should probably start at the scene of the crime. I hurried to take a shower and get dressed before I headed out to the crime scene.

  When I arrived in old downtown, the police had cordoned off the area with yellow tape. The forensic team was doing their thing. I stepped into the middle of the crowd who’d gathered outside the barricades to perhaps pick up some gossip or news. I had read in a few of my favorite “who-done-it” novels that often the perpetrator will come to the scene of the crime to view his work. I searched each face in the crowd looking for clues. I stopped dead when I saw the rude PUP passenger staring back at me with surprise. He pushed a few people away from him and came toward me. “What are you doing here? A little sight-seeing?”

  “I might ask the same question of you, Cowboy,” I said, annoyance building in me.

  “Touché,” he responded, seeming oddly pleased at my reaction.

  “Well, then?” I pushed. “What have you found out? Have they caught the person responsible for Melissa’s death?”

  “So you knew her. Hmmm. And what about you? What do you know?”

  “Nothing.” I answered grumpily, not wanting my name to be reported by him in any regard to the murder.

  He looked at me long and hard. “Look, I know I was a bit of a dick on the ride to the airport. I apologize. Let’s start again. My name is Brian Boyce. Pleased to meet you.”

  As he held out his hand, I took it and demurely said, “My name is Rosalie Bennett,” omitting the pleased part.

  He grudgingly accepted my rudeness. “I already know who you are. I looked you up on google.” At my surprised expression, he added. “I saw your name tag on your carryon case when I put it into the trunk of Melissa’s car.”

  He began to turn away. I pulled at his sleeve, asking, “So, what have you found out about this crime? I really would like to know.”

  “Not much to tell yet. She was a stripper at the Purple Passion Club before she signed on for PUP. Anything you can tell me?”

  “Nothing, really. We weren’t actually friends, more like acquaintances,” I answered, not about to say more.

  He stared at me for a moment, squinting his eyes at me. “Are you sure you’re not hiding anything?”

  “Of course not!” I exclaimed indignantly. I wasn’t about to mention the money and the package Melissa had left with me.

  “Just asking,” he said, holding his palms in front of him in a defensive mode.

  I could feel my face turn red. This man could infuriate me without even trying. “Don’t you have some reporting to do, Cowboy?”

  “I kinda like you calling me Cowboy, you know. I can conjure up a lot of pleasant thoughts with that one, if you know what I mean,” he teased, wriggling his eyebrows up and down.

  I had had enough and turned away from him. “Happy riding!” I called out. I heard him chuckle as I walked away. What is it about that man that gets me so rattled? No question Brian was certainly handsome for when he had walked toward me, several women had turned to admire him.

  I figured he was probably close to my age of 32, maybe even a bit older, and probably married although I hadn’t noticed a ring. I was not even curious to find out. I wasn’t interested in getting involved with any man right now, not even someone as good-looking as Brian. My fiancé’s death had left me devastated. I was still healing from all the anger his demise had created. I’d learned the hard way that a relationship can easily distract me from doing my own thing with its demands pulling at my time and energy. Besides, I had too much I wanted to do to clear Jeff’s name, and now there’d be Melissa’s murderer to be brought to justice.

  When I got home, I began to worry about the money Melissa had left with me. I knew I should probably report it to the police, but something kept holding me back. Besides, I wasn’t ready to release it without knowing where it had come from and if it were legitimate. I didn’t trust the police because of all that had happened in the past. They probably would take it from me before I could find out. I wasn’t willing to let that happen.

  I had a special hiding place I had fashioned beneath the floor in my closet that I was certain no one would find. I even had a hard time relocating it anytime I needed to get into it. I put Melissa’s money into the hiding place and put the things
surrounding it back into place. Then I went to do some research on my computer for my magazine articles. I even ordered the book, “The Las Vegas Madame” by Jami Rodman. That ought to be an eye opener for me for sure. I didn’t know much about the escort business and how it all worked. All that had happened today was exhausting me so I decided to quit while I was ahead.

  I had an early supper and went to bed hoping I wouldn’t have any dreams to keep me awake. I knew more was to come.

  CHAPTER 4

  The following day, I wanted to get a head start on my new assignment for the magazine. As I was sitting at my computer I looked up and read a favorite quote that I had found shortly after my fiancé’s death – “Learn to love with all your heart and accept the unlovable side of others for anyone can love a rose but it takes a great heart to include the thorns.”

  I keep it there to ground me and appreciate the individual journey of each person who comes to me as my client. In my years as a spiritual counselor, I’ve learned many lessons from my clients who share with me what’s going on in their lives without cloaking their words. As I stared at that quote, I knew these words would take on greater meaning when I went into the streets of Las Vegas as a self-declared sleuth, writing for the magazine. Also for keeping my promise to clear up Jeff’s name, and help solve other murders.

  I love Las Vegas for it is an interesting city. It sits in the middle of the Mojave Desert and years ago was a valued stopover for covered wagons and other travelers to refill their water supply from the many open springs here. Much of that history is documented in the Springs Preserve Museum, one of the top visited sites in the city. As it has grown and sits today, Las Vegas has its own charm as a diverse city of extremes between its spiritual natural resources and man-created debauchery.

  The state of Nevada is the only jurisdiction in the United States where prostitution is legal. Is that what led to all the other sexy forms of entertainment that’s become so prevalent here in Las Vegas and other larger cities? I was even more surprised to learn about 66 times more money is spent by customers on illegal prostitution in Nevada than in the regulated brothels. That is where the trouble begins, I thought. Too bad. Las Vegas gets a bad rap for it is so much more than all that. It is a gorgeous area with so much to offer. It’s the only place I know where you can sit outside in 100 degree plus weather in the springtime and look across the valley and see the snow-capped Mt. Charleston where people are still skiing.