Hearts in Vegas. Colleen Collins

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СКАЧАТЬ people were dumping trash on his property, and read them the information on the receipts, which the police recognized to be the tools used at the crime. After running a DNA analysis on the sandwich, they identified Notarbartolo, who spent several years in prison, although he never divulged the whereabouts of the diamonds.

      Cases like that taught investigators to never dismiss seemingly unconnected leads. That the jewelry was never located wasn’t a surprise, however, as in nearly half of such thefts, the gold would be melted and the gems recut.

      Which made intact historical jewelry pieces, such as the Helena Diamond necklace and the fifth-century-BC coins, all the more valuable.

      “Think the big man’s from Saint Petersburg?” Charlie asked.

      “Chocolates were from there, but that doesn’t mean he is. Saw a name—Dmitri Romanov—on the envelope I delivered this morning to Braxton.... Apparently that’s the name he goes by, but I don’t know...could be an alias, too.”

      “I don’t think we know enough about him. What else did you notice?”

      “I’ve gone over and over our meeting in my head. He wore no jewelry, had no visible scars from what I could see, but the lighting was dim in the limo. I described that other set of Georgian earrings at Fortier’s in my email—learn anything about them?”

      “The slight blue cast of the diamonds is unusual, but there’s no record of their theft.”

      “And the license-plate numbers I forwarded?”

      “Limo’s registered to Konfety, which appears to be a bogus corporation. That undercover cop’s vehicle is the real deal, though, as it’s registered to the city. My guess is he checked it out. I won’t subpoena the police for those records, because it would alert them that Vanderbilt has an interest in his identity, which of course would tie you to Vanderbilt.”

      “That guy was nuts.”

      “Maybe on purpose.” He lifted his glass.

      “To throw me off?”

      “He’s an undercover cop. You’re an undercover investigator. Both of you are good at deceiving people in the course of your work, right?”

      If the singing detective was a Dmitri gofer, he could have acted that way to hide his real personality. On the other hand, if he was one of the good guys, maybe he’d acted silly to put her at ease, which had worked. That also meant the Las Vegas Metro Police were working their own case against Dmitri.

      “You said the Russian asked you to deliver something this morning—what was it?”

      “A manila envelope that felt like it had papers inside, but I didn’t want to open it and give myself away.”

      “Who’s this private investigator?”

      “Name’s Braxton Morgan. Works at Morgan-LeRoy Investigations downtown, but his brother’s the partner, not him. Apparently, Braxton is more of a security consultant.”

      “Private dicks,” Charlie muttered, a look of distaste crossing his features. “Lowlife snoops in trench coats pretending to be Sam what’s-his-name.”

      “Sam Spade?”

      “Right, Sam Spade. Now, that was a private eye. Smart. Detached. Unflinching. Women wanted him, men wanted to be him.”

      She almost laughed. Did pompous, corporate-America Charlie secretly yearn to be a tough-guy Sam Spade?

      But Charlie had Braxton wrong. He wasn’t a lowlife in a trench coat. He wasn’t detached, either, but he was definitely smart.

      On her way over here, she’d quickly checked him out on the internet, impressed with a news story about his saving a politician’s life years ago. Acting as a legislator’s bodyguard, Braxton had perceived a threat at a political rally and taken action that saved the official’s life. Such quick, calculated thinking proved his intelligence.

      She’d have to do further research on Braxton Morgan.

      “Most of those shamuses will do anything for a buck,” Charlie said, buttering a roll, “including break the law. Which this guy Braxton must be doing, too, if he’s hooked up with our Russian. How’d he react when you handed him the envelope?”

      More like, how did he react to her.

      “Seemed to be expecting it,” she answered.

      “What’s your impression of him?”

      “Early thirties,” she said matter-of-factly, “dresses professionally, which tells me he takes his work seriously. Don’t think he’s dirty, though.”

      The last part slipped out before she’d given it any thought, but something about Braxton had struck her as honest.

      “How do you know?”

      “Just a sense I got.”

      “Interesting. You don’t usually give much credit to first impressions.” He let that hang in the air for a moment. “Anyway, as you get more involved in this Dmitri fellow’s heist, keep your ears open for how Braxton fits into the picture.” He checked his watch, a shiny gold Rolex.

      “Are you late for something?” she asked.

      “Told my ex I’d pick up the kids, take them to see a movie. Let me make a quick call.”

      He’d mentioned his exes before—there were two, but only one lived in Vegas—and Frances had seen framed photos of several boys and a girl in his office, although Charlie didn’t talk about them much, just passing references to having them for the weekend or taking them to some event.

      Frances was surprised that he made the call at the table rather than stepping away, so she looked around the restaurant to give him a semblance of privacy. Scanned the brocade draperies that sealed off the far windows, listened to the beginning of a spirited piano concerto, caught scents of garlic and spices as waiters passed with steaming plates.

      She couldn’t hear Charlie’s conversation as he kept his voice low, although at one point he snapped, “The credit card is maxed out, Cynthia!”

      A few moments later he ended the call, slid his phone back into his jacket pocket. “Where were we?”

      He looked pissed, but also confused, which was strange, since Frances had never seen Charlie betray any hint of vulnerability.

      “Now that you’re on the inside of this Russian’s racket,” he said, shifting back to business mode, “Vanderbilt wants you to learn the players on his team, their roles and, as we’ve discussed, anything you can find about the coin theft. Any dirt you can dig up will be smiled upon, too. Sometimes these guys get a lot chattier when faced with prison, and we’d like him to chat about those coins.”

      “What about the brooch?”

      “Icing. This Russian promised you the pin as payment after the heist, but Vanderbilt is more interested in your finding the coins before then. It wants to sink this Russian and his crew.”

      An uneasiness swept through her СКАЧАТЬ