Shooting On the Strip Read Online Free PDF Page A

the investigator’s death though.”
    “Me too,” I said. “He might be shady, but he didn’t strike me as a killer.”
    “Just be careful, Mrs. Fontaine.” Dan bobbed his head like a little bird. “Seldom does a murderer advertise what he’s done.”
    “Well, Dan, we’ll get out of your way. If there’s any way we can be of further assistance, please let us know.” Luke shook Dan’s hand.
    “Thank you, Mr. Fontaine. And if you do find out anything about the investigator, let me know, would you?”
    “Of course,” said Luke.
     
    We were on our way to the moving truck rental place when I asked Luke why he hadn’t discussed the case in more detail with Dan.
    “I felt sure that you’d ask him where the P.I.’s office was so that you could get the information about the moving truck from the guy’s secretary or something,” I said.
    “This town isn’t that big,” he said. “It isn’t likely that many people rented a truck on the night that Wilson was filmed. Besides, I got to thinking about Wilson’s lack of…let’s call it a lack of ambition. There has to be someone else involved in the disappearance of the investigator. And what were they being so secretive about moving? Stolen merchandise? Drugs?”
    “All the more reason that we need to find out who this investigator was so we can figure out what he knew. Why didn’t you ask Dan?”
    “I don’t know Dan all that well. Plus he’s awfully jittery. Someone like that is more likely to talk to people who might not need to be aware of what we’re doing.”
    “I imagine you’re right about that,” I said. “You think whoever is involved in whatever Wilson was doing that night is someone Dan knows?”
    “I think it’s a strong possibility. Think about it. Who are the people most workers see the most?” he asked.
    “Their fellow workers.”
    “Exactly. So if you’re into something illegal, you know which of your coworkers might be willing to go into it with you, and you know who you can trust,” he said.
    “That means someone could be using the Las Vegas branch of Fontaine Enterprises as a base of operations for something illegal,” I said. “Could that come back on you in any way?”
    “I doubt it. But as manager, it could certainly come back on Dan.”
    “Did Dan tell you the name of the private investigator?” I asked.
    “No, but I own the place. That won’t be too hard to discover.”
     
    Luke was right. On the night Wilson loaded fifty pound packages of stuff , for lack of a better word, into the moving truck, only three people had rented vehicles. One of the vehicles was a small van, so we ruled that person out. The other two were named Gus Mahaffey and Cyrus Grayson.
    Luke explained that our friend had been missing since the night the trucks had been rented. The clerk said that both the trucks had been returned on time. Luke insisted that the driver of the truck might know something about our friend.
    His earnest plea accompanied by a one-hundred dollar bill convinced the clerk that it wouldn’t hurt to let us sneak a peek at the log. We left armed with the addresses of Gus and Cyrus and no idea how to approach either one.
     
    We started with Gus Mahaffey. On the drive to Mahaffey’s work address—a casino far on the outskirts of Vegas—we discussed how we might best approach him.
    “I know,” I said. “We’ll tell him he was the rental company’s one millionth customer and that he’s won a prize. We’ll give him a restaurant gift card or something and then ask him about his experience with the rental company…if the moving truck adequately served his needs and whatever else we can think of to ask that will either tell us he’s our guy or rule him out.”
    “Have I ever told you that you’re brilliant?” Luke asked.
    “You have…but we’re usually in bed when you say it.”
    He chuckled. “Well, you’re brilliant out of bed too.”
    “Thank you.”
    We stopped and got Gus Mahaffey a gift card to a