“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.
Carter reached over to the edge of the desk and picked up a medium-sized crystal paper weight. It was shaped like a large egg, and it looked expensive. He turned it over in his hands, examining it.
Moffitt started to say something, then stopped.
“I’ve been told he worked for you,” I said.
“I can certainly check to see if that’s accurate,” Moffitt said, looking from me to Carter and back to me.
“Name doesn’t sound the least bit familiar?”
Moffitt shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. Like I said, two thousand is a big number. But I’ll be happy to have Human Resources check the name. I can have someone get you the information by tomorrow morning.” He paused. “Why is he facing execution?”
Carter tossed the paperweight up in the air and let it fall back into his hands. He threw it again, a little higher this time, and had to reach behind himself to make the catch.
Moffitt cleared his throat but said nothing.
“He killed two men,” I said.
Moffitt gave a small wince. “Wow.” “Yeah.”
Carter set the crystal egg back on the desk. Moffitt hesitated for a moment, then reached over and repositioned the egg a fraction of an inch.
He leaned back in his chair, looking more relaxed now. “Can I ask why you’d choose to work for someone like that?”
A loaded question if I’d ever heard one. But I wasn’t about to explain the complicated situation involving my father.
“I’m just checking into some things,” I said. “How about Landon Keene?”
Moffitt raised an eyebrow. “Another employee?”
“Yes.”
He thought about it, then shook his head. “Don’t recognize that name, either. But I’ll be happy to have my people research that as well.”
If he knew anything, he wasn’t going to give it up. And his act was so good, I wasn’t sure if it was an act.
“May I ask how my name came up?” he asked.
“Basic background checks,” I lied. “Employment history and things like that. Figured I’d start at the top. I’m just looking to get a few things corroborated.”
“Of course,” he said, seeming satisfied. “Well, as I said, it’s impossible for me to know the names of everyone who works here. But we keep diligent records. If either of them were employed here, we’ll be able to tell you exactly when they were here and what they did.” He opened a drawer, pulled out a card, and slid it across the desk.
