Happy Smith wheeled another load of rubbish up to the industrial Dumpster. The wind whistled down the canyon and he shivered as he zipped up his jacket. The foreman would be plenty surprised when he came up the mountain tomorrow and found all the construction trash and debris hauled away.

A strange set of circumstances had prompted Happy to start work one day early. It had to do with the mission and their Sunday schedule. First they fed you the food, a nice chicken dinner with soup and mashed potatoes and little green peas. But then, after the apple pie that Miss Alden made in a big pan for the men she called her lambs, she herded them all into the chapel to say prayers all afternoon.

Happy had already resigned himself when he’d heard Miss Alden tell another man that he’d better hurry or he’d be late to work. And that had given him the idea. The slip from the foreman was in his pocket and he’d folded it over so the date didn’t show. Miss Alden had been so excited about his job that she’d given him a nice yellow windbreaker and a pair of gloves from the charity box. And Sam, an old wino who’d been at the mission since they’d opened the doors, had loaned Happy his horseshoe ring for luck.

Happy turned around to stare at the building on Deer Creek Road. The foreman had told him it was almost finished, a high-rise with nine condos that took up a whole floor apiece. Even though he wasn’t supposed to do any cleanup inside the building, Happy had been itching to see those million-dollar condos.

The parking garage was wide open, its iron security gates propped up by the entrance, waiting to be installed. Happy hurried in and climbed the stairs to the first floor. He knew he was snooping, but he wouldn’t touch a thing. No one would ever know he’d been inside.

When Happy opened the door to the first-floor condo, he gasped out loud. It was carpeted with the thickest rug he’d ever seen, plenty soft enough to sleep on. And the rooms were so big they could hold every one of Miss Alden’s lambs, without anyone ever bumping into anyone else.

There was a smile on Happy’s face as he wandered through the rooms, trying to imagine being rich enough to live in such a place. The kitchen looked as if it belonged in a restaurant, with a walk-in freezer, a mammoth stove with four ovens, and enough shelves in the pantry to store food for a year.

After he had peeked into each of the rooms, Happy decided to head straight up to the penthouse. The foreman had told him they were putting a whole spa up there. Happy didn’t see how they could build a pool without digging a hole in the ground, but the foreman had assured him that was exactly what they were doing.

It took time to climb up nine flights of stairs, and even though he stopped to rest at several landings, Happy was panting when he pushed open the door to the penthouse. The sight that awaited him made him gasp in awe. Metal girders curved around in a series of interlocking arches to make a domed ceiling. It wasn’t finished yet, but several panes of glass were in place and Happy could see that there would be an unobstructed view in all directions. He stopped to look out at Mount Charleston and watched the pattern of the clouds just brushing its peak.

The view was so spectacular that, for a few moments, Happy lost himself in contemplation, forgetting the man-made marvels at his feet. Then he whistled in awe as he gazed down at the immense hole in the floor, lined with steel beams. He guessed they needed all that reinforcement because the pool was all the way up on top of the building. He’d watched some men put in a backyard pool once, but all they’d done was prepare the hole, install all the pipes, and drop in one of those pre-made shells.

There was the sound of a motor outside and Happy looked out to see a brown van pull into the driveway. When the doors opened and two men got out, Happy ducked behind one of the girders. His heart was beating fast and he rubbed Sam’s horseshoe ring for luck. If the foreman was down there, he’d be in big trouble.

The men walked around to the back of the van and Happy sighed, relieved that he’d never seen those two men before. They opened the back door and helped another man out. He was staggering a little and Happy could see that he’d had too much to drink. They must have gone to a party and now they were taking their friend for a little walk to sober him up before taking him home.

The men looked startled as Happy leaned out and shouted, but when he asked, they promised to give him a ride back to the mission. He should stay put and they’d come up to get him.

Happy was smiling as he walked back to explore the rest of the spa. If he’d watched just a moment longer, he would have seen that one of the men carried a gun. And that the third man was staggering because his hands were tied behind his back.

ONE

The Castle Casino

Las Vegas, Nevada

Lyle Marshall was smiling as he threaded his way past a group of high rollers at the craps table. He’d signed the papers this morning and now he was officially retired. Since he’d made a hell of a profit by selling his share of Paradise Development to his partner, Marc Davies, he could afford to plunk down a sizable bet, but Charlotte was waiting in the banquet room and he didn’t want to be late to his own twenty-fifth wedding anniversary bash.

A short, stocky man in his early fifties, Lyle was dressed in a custom-made gray linen suit. Charlotte always went to the tailor with him, choosing the material and cut that looked best. She also picked out his shirts and ties, even the smoking jacket she insisted that he wear at home. Charlotte was a lady of impeccable taste.

A huge blond woman, slightly resembling Brunhilde in the one opera Charlotte had dragged him to, hit a jackpot on the nickel slots. Bells rang, lights flashed, and she let out a shriek that almost deafened everyone within earshot. Lyle grinned; definitely a soprano. Charlotte was the founder of the Friends of the Las Vegas Civic Light Opera Company and was always complaining about the lack of good strong sopranos.

Lyle sidestepped the gawking tourists and entered the restaurant. An almost palpable sense of relief came over him as the piped-in music muted the clatter of the slot machines outside. Vegas was hard on the ears. And on the savings account. If Charlotte ever guessed how much of their money had been converted into chips and scooped up by the croupier, she’d kill him.

They’d come here as newlyweds. Charlotte had wanted to stay near her parents in Arlington, Virginia, but he’d convinced her that a real estate agent could make it big in a town like Vegas. The casinos employed a lot of people and all of them needed housing. There was a huge turnover, too.

From day one Charlotte had complained about the glitz, the heat, and what she called the gambler mentality. It was true there wasn’t much culture, and the young city had little historical heritage. All those things meant a lot to Charlotte, but she missed the change of seasons most of all. Smack in the middle of the desert, Vegas didn’t really have much weather to speak of. The wind blew a little harder in the winter, and the nights got colder, but that was about it. Shifting sand, bright lights, dry heat, and the feeling of being caught in the middle of a never-ending party—that described Vegas.

Marc and Lyle had formed Paradise Development fifteen years ago and it had been a going concern from the very first day. Marc was a wizard at finding prime building sites at ridiculously low prices, and Lyle presold the houses he built. The only fly in the ointment had been Charlotte, but Marc had solved that one, too.