Nobody Dies in a Casino Read Online Free PDF

going to be a hot shoe?”
    â€œNot really.”
    The music had mercifully paused for a while and imprisoned nature was quacking and squawking and cawing and squeaking. The birds must have had their wings clipped, because nobody took wing but sparrows looking for french fry bits.
    â€œDo you always play blackjack so early in the morning?”
    â€œOnly when the timing is right and Venus is making good aspects.” They both managed to put away about half of their burgers and a fourth of their fries. Bradone ordered wine and coffee for herself and Charlie too. Much as she wanted to get on with her life, Charlie found the woman mesmerizing.
    â€œWorks wonderfully, but not always, and it’s fun. Works well enough though, that I have to be careful to lose money about a third of the time.”
    â€œI don’t believe you.” Charlie realized she was grinning. In the last twenty-four hours, she’d witnessed a murder, sat in a Jacuzzi with one of the killers, and been fired by a client for the first time—and she was grinning.
    Be careful. She’s probably setting you up to look at a book proposal for astrologers who want to gamble.
    Evening had softened the sun and the breeze was dry and cool, sweet with tropical plants blackmailed somehow into living here. Children splashed and chattered in a swimming pool on the other side of a hillock.
    â€œI know you don’t believe me, Charlie. Nobody does. That’s the beauty of it. I’ve been doing this for years. It’s a fabulous life. Monte Carlo, Malaysia, Macao, Alaska, cruise ships, Latin America—the world is very literally my oyster.”
    â€œDo you have a home base?”
    Bradone Mckinley had a home in Santa Barbara, where she retreated when the stars were not propitious for gambling. “And to rest and to study. Astrology takes a lot of study.”
    She salted away a third of her earnings after taxes, made a point of losing a third—usually at baccarat, because it was faster—and spent the rest for living and traveling expenses. “I love travel, astrology, blackjack, my home in Santa Barbara. I couldn’t be happier.”
    â€œAny family?”
    â€œJust my cats and a houseboy.”
    â€œYou should write a book,” Charlie said, testing her.
    â€œThat’s too much work. I already have plenty of money.” As if to prove it, Bradone insisted upon paying the tab for both of them. “Notoriety, I don’t need. I like my life the way it is. And I so enjoyed watching you winning this morning. You’re great company when you’re not too intense.”
    Charlie had enjoyed it too, and the dinner, and the company. She felt a little lonesome when they parted ways on the street outside.
    She should head back to her room and check her E-mail. Call Libby. But she turned up the street toward the Treasure Island Casino instead, crossing Las Vegas Boulevard so she wouldn’t have to pass the place where the hunk pilot had died. She passed the statues of a triumphant Caesar, out to sack your bank account instead of Gaul, and winged angels lauding the idea by blowing silent trumpets from their pedestals along the drive of Caesar’s Palace.
    The courtyard of the Treasure Island was red with stage smoke as a pirate ship defied a brig of Her Majesty’s Navy with phony cannon shot and firecrackers over the heads of the assembled tourists crowding an enormous wooden gangway entrance to the casino. The brave Brits fired back and many a stuntman on either side met his demise in the broiling waters of battle.
    Yes, it was silly, but it made Charlie happy again. If Hollywood was the reality you were trying to get away from, it took something as bizarre as Las Vegas to do it.
    She battled her way through the throng—let Mr. Thug try to follow her now, har, har—to get inside to the blackjack tables, where she happily lost and won and lost again thirty dollars that would never