Catherine gave Conroy a wave, and she and Sara headed back to the Tahoe. They had plenty of work to do, though some of it could wait till tonight and, she hoped, the evidence would provide the right answers.
Hearing footsteps, Catherine turned to find Conroy right behind her. 'I'm thinking of stopping at Circus Circus on the way back…you girls interested in some more overtime?'
Catherine looked toward Sara, and they both sighed and shrugged-at this point, what was the difference?
Twenty minutes later they pulled into the parking garage next to Circus Circus; then they were walking through the maze of halls to the second-floor casino where the familiar casino sounds-spinning slots, dealers calling out cards, rolling roulette balls-belied the breakfast hour. This large area was filled with slots, about half of which were in action; the cashier's cage stood immediately to the right, an Hispanic security guard making small talk with a cute redhead on the other side of the bars.
Conroy approached him and displayed her I.D. and a professional smile. 'Who could I talk to about one of your employees?'
The stocky, wispily mustached guard had a radio mike clipped to the epaulet of his left shoulder. He used the mike to check with a Mr. Waller, who would receive the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police contingent in his office, which proved to be on the first floor, past the front desk, and down a deserted corridor behind a door labelled SECURITY.
A tall, thin man in a well-tailored gray suit and black and gray tie extended his hand to Conroy even as the guard showed them in. With a smile just a little too wide and teeth just a little too white, the casino man introduced himself as Jim Waller, and I.D.'s were proffered, hands were shaken, Catherine finding the man's grip limp and his palm slightly moist.
Waller moved behind the desk and sat in a massive maroon leather chair, a computer whirring behind him, the screensaver showing fish swimming around. He motioned toward the three leather-covered chairs in front of his large dark-wood desk.
Waller was a typical casino security man: unfailingly polite and helpful to the police, but wary as hell. 'What can I do to help you, officers? Something about an employee, I understand? Is it a criminal matter?'
'Yes, Mr. Waller, it's criminal,' Conroy said, and the security man's smile vanished, all those big shiny teeth tucked away in his face. 'But the crime doesn't involve your employee.'
Conroy explained the situation and soon Waller was using a walkie-talkie to summon Marty Fleming.
'Should only be three or four minutes,' Waller said.
It was five, a security guard showing up, escorting a slump-shouldered, medium-sized man in his late forties with sandy hair, a bad complexion and gold-rimmed bifocals. A walking cast peeked out from the man's left pant leg; Catherine found him a rather pitiful-looking character. Waller rose, came around the desk and approached the man.
'Marty,' he said, speaking to the dealer (though in a facility this size, the odds were scant Waller actually knew the employee), 'these police officers need to talk to you.'
The dealer's face turned anxiously inquisitive as his attention turned from Waller to the women.
'Detective Conroy,' Waller continued, 'I'll be at the front desk, when you've finished using my office.'
'Very kind of you,' Conroy said.
Then the security guard and Waller and the latter's shit-eating grin left them alone.
'Wh-what is this about?' Fleming asked.
Sara got up and vacated the chair next to Conroy, gesturing to Fleming to take it, saying, 'Why don't you have a seat, Mr. Fleming, that cast doesn't look very comfortable.'
He sat down, Conroy made the introductions, and explained the purpose of their visit, including the tragic death of Jenna Patrick.
'Damn it, anyway,' Fleming said, shaking his head. He had a perpetual 'why me?' demeanor. 'I told Ty it was no big deal. Now he goes around telling the police.'
Catherine said, 'Mr. Fleming, it is a big thing-Mr. Kapelos did the right thing informing us. If Ray Lipton did attempt to strangle you, it might represent a pattern-a pattern of violence that culminated with him killing that young woman.'
Fleming shook his head. 'That's so sad…she was just the nicest girl. So beautiful. Nice and beautiful.'
Catherine pressed: 'Is Ty Kapelos telling us the truth? Did Ray Lipton choke you at Dream Dolls three months ago?'
Slowly, Fleming nodded; he seemed embarrassed. 'About that-maybe a little longer ago. He saw me coming out of one of the back rooms with his girlfriend-I had, uh…you know, a private dance with her. Listen, you're not gonna talk to my wife, are you?'
Conroy said, 'No, Mr. Fleming.'
'I mean, she'll kill me, and then you'll be investigating
'Tell us about that night, Mr. Fleming-the night Ray Lipton attacked you.'
He sighed, thought back, pushing his glasses up on his nose-they didn't stay there long. 'Jenna, she gave me a hug, you know, as we were comin' out of the booth-that's not something they usually do, I mean, when the dance is over, it's over. But she was a nice girl, and I used to have a dance from her, I don't know, a couple times a week.'
Catherine nodded just to keep him going.
'Anyway, she hugged me and I gave her a peck on the cheek and the next thing I know, this guy is all over me, like ugly on a bulldog. Knocks me down, pins me to the floor in that, you know, that narrow hallway? On the floor there, digging his fingers into my throat. His face was all red…mine probably was, too. The girl was screaming and all, and I started to black out. I tell you, I thought I was dead.'
Conroy asked, 'Then what?'
He swallowed, pushed his glasses up again. 'This brunette, another of the dancers, grabbed him by the hair and pulled him off. Saved me, sort of. She wasn't a very nice person…kinda cold, the other one, dark-haired. I had a private dance from her, once, too…brrrrr! But she did save me, I guess, from that Lipton guy. Anyway, she doesn't work there anymore.'
'Tera Jameson, you mean?' Sara asked.
Fleming shrugged. 'I didn't pay any attention to her name-I didn't like her. Anyway, the girls danced under different names, different nights…. So, then he and her started screaming at each other. He looked like he wanted to punch her, but he kept his distance. I just got up and a couple of the girls helped me back into the dressing room…only time I was ever back there.'
He stopped and smiled as he thought back to that experience.
Conroy prompted him: 'Mr. Fleming?'
'Yeah, anyway-I stayed back with the dancers, in their dressing room, till Ty and that Worm DJ guy hustled this Ray out of the club.'
'Did you get the cast from that attack?'
Looking a little sheepish, Fleming said, 'No. Got that about a month ago-accident at home. You know. Most accidents happen there.'
Maybe his wife
Conroy asked, 'That night at the club, that the last time you had contact with Ray Lipton?'
'Yeah.'
'You're sure?'
'I'd remember.'
'Guess you would.' Conroy gave him a smile. 'Thank you, Mr. Fleming.'
He sighed, nodded. 'You won't talk to my wife?'
'We won't talk to your wife.'
Fleming rose and went out, and the trio lingered in Waller's office briefly, then did the same.
They stopped at the front desk and Conroy thanked Waller, and they made their way out of the gaudy casino, that pioneer in making Sin City family friendly.
Then they drove back to HQ, where they finally ended the night that had long since turned to day.
