The doors opened, and the floor didn’t look much different than the admin offices. The men escorted us into a conference room with a view of the hills and the afternoon sunshine. A crystal pitcher filled with water sat in the middle of a huge mahogany table, accompanied by six matching glasses.

My guy gestured at the plush leather chairs around the table. “Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen.”

We sat down, and they left.

Carter set his Slurpee on the table. “Now what?”

“Vanilla Ice?” I asked.

“You like that? I thought it was pretty good.” “I should’ve dumped the Slurpee on your head.”

“Now that wouldn’t have been good.” He waved a hand around the room. “So?”

“So let’s see who comes to visit us.”

Twenty minutes and two glasses of water later, the door to the conference room opened. A guy a couple inches taller than me with a neck the size of a barrel led the way. His brown hair was buzzed short, and the skin on his face seemed stretched too tight, as if there weren’t enough skin to cover his skull. Acne dotted his forehead. He scowled at us. He wore khaki pants and a black dress shirt with a butterfly collar that was open at his huge neck. Sweat stains darkened the shirt near his armpits. Lots of muscles in just about every place.

He was followed in by a man considerably shorter and less muscular. The second man was around five-ten with the build of a cross-country runner and shaggy black hair that hung to just above sleepy hazel eyes. He appeared to be trying to grow a goatee, but it didn’t seem to want to come in. He wore white jeans and a bright purple polo shirt.

“Hi, fellas,” he said. His voice was high-pitched and squeaky. “What are you here for?”

“Is either of you Benjamin Moffitt?” I asked.

“No. I’m Ross.” He pointed at the gorilla, who had moved next to me. “That’s Gus.”

“We’re here for Moffitt.”

Gus’s right hand shot out and drilled into the side of my head. My head snapped to the side and a rainbow of colors flashed in front of my eyes. Gus was strong.

“Easy, big guy,” Ross said.

I shook my head, clearing the colors from my vision, and realized he was talking to Carter, who was halfway out of his seat. I held up a hand, and Carter sat back down.

Ross smiled in my direction. “Wanna try again?”

“We’re here for Moffitt,” I said. “Dickhead.”

I felt Gus move again, but this time I was ready. I swept the pitcher off the table, swiveled in the chair, and smashed the pitcher into Gus’s head. It disintegrated into a fine mist of water and glass when it hit his temple. His teeth snapped together like a bear trap, and he fell to the ground.

I looked at Ross, who was no longer smiling.

“Is Moffitt coming or do we need to go find him?” I asked.

Ross glanced at his partner. Gus was clutching the side of his head as blood percolated out of his mouth, his eyes shut tight in pain.

“I’ll go get Mr. Moffitt,” Ross said. Carter stood. “We’ll go with you.”

“No need,” Ross said, a little too quickly. “If you’ll just wait here—”

“You can ceme back with who knows what,” Carter said. He walked over and took Ross by the elbow. “Show us the way, buddy.”

I stepped over Gus to follow them. The side of my head was still throbbing.

“Hang on,” I said to Carter.

I turned around and drove my foot in Gus’s solar plexus. The air whooshed out of him like a slashed tire, his eyes bulged, and his mouth opened into a silent, painful oval.

I pulled my foot off of him and faced an amused Carter and a worried Gus.

“Now let’s go,” I said.

TWENTY-THREE

Ross took us down a long hallway to a corner office. He knocked, timid, on the partially open door. A polite voice invited us in.

The room was huge and crescent-shaped, backed by a window that opened up to the expansive valley beyond the casino. Several leather chairs and a matching sofa sat around a glass coffee table in one corner. A magnificent mahogany desk was fronted with two more leather chairs. Our feet sunk into the plush carpeting.

Ben Moffitt leaned back in his chair behind the desk and smiled. “Hello, Ross. What’s going on?”

Moffitt appeared to be in his early fifties. Dark hair that looked like it might have had some help in holding off the gray. Tan face. Bright, hazel eyes. A small pointed nose that fit perfectly over his small tight mouth. An expensive blue dress shirt opened at the neck. A gleaming watch on his left wrist.

Ross shifted his weight nervously. “Uh … ah … Mr. Moffitt … these guys … ah … wanted to see you.”

Moffitt nodded as if he’d been expecting us. “Fine. What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

“To start, you might want to call a doctor for Gus,” I said, gesturing behind us. “His face is going to need some help.”

Moffitt’s eyes clouded over, confused. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t like people hitting me in the head,” I said. “Gus learned that the unfortunate way.”

Moffitt frowned and moved his gaze to Ross. “Ross? What’s he talking about?”

Ross shifted again, his feet kicking at the floor like he had to go to the bathroom. “Well, we didn’t know … uh … I’m not … they were in the casino and …”

Moffitt held up a hand and shook his head. “Thank you, Ross. We’ll speak more about this later.”

Ross took the opportunity to pivot and slink out of the room.

Moffitt stood and held out his hand. “I’m Ben Moffitt. I apologize for any trouble you encountered.”

I shook his hand and was taken aback. I’d expected to walk into an unfriendly room. Moffitt was treating us like long lost friends.

“I’m Noah,” I said.

He held out his hand to Carter. “I’m Ben Moffitt.”

Carter hesitated, then shook his hand. “Carter.”

Moffitt gave a sharp nod and gestured for us to sit down in the chairs that faced his desk. We did, and he eased down into his own chair.

“Again, I apologize for any trouble Gus and Ross may have given you,” he said, forcing a reluctant smile onto his face. “Sometimes they get a little excited and don’t make the appropriate decisions.”

I nodded. “It’s fine.”

“I’ll make sure we make it up to you,” Moffitt said. “No need,” I said. “Really.”

“Well, we’ll see,” Moffitt said. He smiled again, showing some coffee-stained teeth. “Now, how can I help you?” “Hold on a sec,” Carter said. “I’m confused.” “How so?”

“We came up here half an hour ago, and it was all your receptionist could do to shoo us back into the elevator,” he said. “Then we get your attention in the casino, Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dumbass try to put the squeeze on us, and now we’re sitting here and you seem happy to see us?”

Moffitt looked amused. “First off, the receptionist is instructed to turn away anyone looking to see me. If I made myself available to every person who lost twenty bucks in my casino, I’d never get anything done.” He smiled. “I don’t know what you’re referring to in the casino. Gus is one of my heads of security. He’s instructed to handle situations.” His smile dimmed. “What he’s not instructed to do is harass our patrons, regardless of what has occurred.” He leaned forward. “My willingness to speak to you is my way of apologizing for the inappropriate treatment you may have experienced.”

Moffitt was smooth, polished. Just like the room. I thought it was interesting that he hadn’t asked what occurred downstairs. I wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. But I had a difficult time thinking he didn’t know about every little thing that was happening in his casino.

“I’m an investigator,” I said.

“Not from the gaming commission, I hope,” Moffitt said, chuckling.

“No. I’m working for a man named Russell Simington.” I watched for a reaction but saw nothing. “Should I know that name?” Moffitt asked. “I believe he worked for you.”

“Mr. Braddock, I’ve got over two thousand employees working in my casinos,” he said. “I wish I knew them all by name, but I don’t.” “He’s in jail now.” Moffitt leaned back in his chair. “On death row,” I said. Moffitt still showed nothing.