Page 113 of The 1 Lawyer

But this was for Stafford Lee, and time was certainly of the essence. As she jogged to the casino’s side entrance, she passed another surveillance camera. Jenny didn’t cower. She lifted her chin and stared into it defiantly. Here I come, Caro.

Inside the casino, Jenny walked through a maze of dinging slot machines to the hotel lobby. She didn’t see a tournament under way, but the casino floor was packed. Every seat at every card table was taken, and the craps tables had attracted rowdy crowds. Someone was winning; she heard shrill cheers.

Somewhere on the property, a country-western band was playing. The powerful bass lines blasted from the subwoofers, shaking the floor. She wanted to cover her ears. Once she reached the hotel lobby, the noise was muted. Jenny walked first to the casino business offices, though it was after hours. She saw that the front windows were dark, and when she tugged on the door, it was locked.

But Jenny wasn’t discouraged, not yet. She knew how casinos operated. The gambling action was hottest when the sun went down and the neon lit up the darkness. As a casino owner, Hiram Caro didn’t have a nine-to-five existence. She knew he liked to hang around when business was brisk.

Jenny opened the door to the VIP club, certain those offices would be open. High rollers went to the VIP club for comps, personal service, and private check-ins when they arrived from the airport in the casino’s private limousine. The stretch limo, emblazoned with a smiling woman behind a roulette wheel, was a common sight around town.

Now she observed a couple arguing with the desk attendant, complaining about accommodations and demanding a suite. Jenny waited behind them, her foot tapping with impatience as they haggled. When the man started to negotiate more free play as a substitute for the suite, she couldn’t remain quiet any longer. Stepping around the couple, Jenny said to them, “This will just take a second.” She addressed the woman employee in a no-nonsense voice. “I need to speak to Hiram Caro.”

The VIP hostess was a trim woman in her forties with big hair and heavy makeup. She eyed Jenny speculatively. “Was Mr. Caro expecting you?”

The female high roller at Jenny’s elbow gave her a shove and said, “You’ve got a lot of nerve. We’re checking in here.”

Jenny ignored her. Keeping her focus on the hostess, she said, “Where can I find Hiram? It’s urgent.”

The employee looked uncomfortable. Jenny tried a good-natured appeal; she turned on a winning smile. “I know you want me out of your hair. Just tell me where he is, and I’ll go away.”

The employee’s hand slid under the counter. Jenny caught the movement. Uh-oh. Panic-button alarm.

Her suspicions were proved correct when two guys in security uniforms burst into the office. They each grabbed one of Jenny’s elbows, pulled her from the VIP desk, and hustled her down a short hall to a private office inside the players’ club.

They brought her into the room and shut the door. Jenny was flustered, but she was determined not to show it. She sat in the chair closest to the door, figuring that would be the best position for a getaway. Easing back in the chair, she looked up at the guy standing over her and asked, “Is Hiram going to join us? I need to talk to him.”

“He heard you’re looking for him.”

Jenny turned her attention to some brochures on a small table beside her chair. She picked up an advertising trifold, crossed her legs, and pretended to read it, making an effort to appear completely at ease.

After four or five minutes, the office door opened. She looked up, hoping to see Hiram Caro.

She was disappointed. Hiram didn’t walk through the door. Instead, his personal bodyguard stalked in. Joey Roman.

CHAPTER 90

JOEY ROMAN closed the office door and locked it. Then he leaned against the door, folded his arms across his chest, and gazed down at Jenny.

Roman’s attire distinguished him from the other security personnel. He was dressed in a slim-fit sport coat over a crisp white shirt paired with indigo jeans. Joey didn’t need to wear a security uniform or badge to give off a dangerous vibe. She knew he wanted to intimidate her. Locking her into a room with three men and blocking the door so she couldn’t get out—it was an act of aggression. Jenny was determined to send a message right back: I’m not scared of you.

She gave Roman a side-eye before returning her attention to the advertising brochure. Reading aloud, she murmured, “‘Loosest slots and hottest table games in Biloxi.’ Wow. Impressive.”

Silence in the room. She counted to ten before she spoke again. “Is Hiram on his way down?”

Roman sounded almost friendly when he said, “Mr. Caro’s not available. What do you want? I can pass along the message.”

Jenny’s impatience gave her voice a sharp edge. “I don’t want to go through the messenger boy, Joey.”

The two young security guys tensed up and exchanged a look of surprise. Jenny noted their reaction. She figured it meant that Joey Roman was rarely disrespected on casino property. She would have to proceed more cautiously.

She forced a smile. “Joey, you know I’m a private investigator, right? I’m here in a professional capacity. I want to talk to your boss about a case.”

His eyes were hooded. “What kind of case?”

“A murder. A case where someone’s been falsely accused.”

“Why would he care about it?”

Jenny didn’t like the atmosphere in the room. It gave her an edgy feeling, like the walls were closing in on her. “He might have some relevant information to share, that’s all.”

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