The Downtown Deal Read Online Free

Nobody else saw or heard a thing."
    "Anything
else? Anything at all?"
    "We
looked her ex-husband over pretty closely. Being her ex, he probably had a
motive, but he also has a solid alibi."
    "Do
you know if she went out that night?"
    He
said, "She did. Had dinner with a girlfriend at Pasta Mia. It was the only
entry in her datebook for that day."
    "Pasta
Mia?"
    "It's
a little Italian place on Flamingo, right near the Palms Casino. We checked it
out. The waiter remembers them. They ate together, then left around
eight-thirty, quarter of nine. Separate cars, we think, because the girlfriend
went straight to a ten-after-nine movie at the Palms. She's still got the stub
with the date and time on it."
    At
that moment, I was driving down Flamingo with the Palms in sight up ahead. I
caught a glimpse of Pasta Mia tucked away in a small strip center on the right.
It looked like someplace I might want to try sometime.
    "What
movie did the girlfriend see?"
    "Something
called American Wedding ," he said.
    "And
what's her name?"
    "Martine
Devereaux."
    "When
did you talk to her?"
    "We
tried to get her yesterday afternoon, after we shut down the crime scene, but
she wasn't home. We finally got to her last night."
    "Where
can I find her?"
    "She
works at the Bootlegger Bistro. Plays piano and sings there three nights a
week."
    "How
about —"
    "How
about that tell, Jack. I've already given you a lot more than I should
have."
    I took
a breath. "When Manny's bluffing, he casually lifts his chips up a few
inches off the table as he's putting them out in front of him to bet. When he's
holding a real hand, he kind of slides them out, or lifts them just barely off
the table."
    Frank
chuckled. "I'm going in there tonight. I'll let you know if you're
right."
    "I'm
right. You can bet on it."
    "Don't
worry. I will."

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
4

 
    I f ever there was an “Old Vegas” strip hotel, it's the
Stardust. Built and originally operated by gangsters, it acquired a certain
tradition that somehow stuck with it from the get-go.
    I’m
told the personal service you encounter there today used to be routine at all
the old hotels. Everyone is made to feel important there, in distinct contrast
to the assembly-line treatment you might receive at the newer, fancier resorts.
    Now, I
have to say I’ve only moved to town a couple of years ago, so I don't have any
first-hand experience with the old days. I just have to go by what I’ve heard.
    And
what I’ve heard is, when the doors opened in 1958, the Stardust was called “the
world’s largest resort hotel”, even though it stood just two stories high. It
really didn’t look much different from then on, even after the mob was forced
out in the 1980s.
    Today,
in the fall of 2003, it still appears pretty much the same as it always has,
casino and all. Oh, they added a big, high-falutin’ thirty-story hotel some
years ago, and the gigantic roadside neon sign has been spruced up some, but
the original two-story motel is still standing, still going full swing. In
addition, the casino has kept pretty much the same layout for decades.
    I
could go on forever about this place, but take my word for it, you walk into
the Stardust and you step back in time.

 
    ≈≈≈

 
    I pulled into the auto
entrance, stopping under the vast neon umbrella that covered the valet parking
area. Josh opened the door for me. I stepped out and felt the refreshing light
breeze, typical for this late in October.
    “Good
morning, Mr Barnett,” he said, as he handed me the valet stub. I’ve only been
coming to the Stardust for a couple of weeks now, mainly for lunch in their
coffee shop. Josh started calling me by name after three days, even though my
car screams "low-roller". I take care of him, though. He needs to be
encouraged.
    Shirley
greeted me as I approached her hostess stand at the coffee shop.
    “By
yourself today, Jack?” she asked with a smile that had been tried on thousands
of customers.
    The
coffee