Page 34 of Blue Moon

“There’s one, but it doesn’t help in this case. The guy’s smart—he uses takeout delivery drivers and sends the notes with the food. The issue is that he has her home address, plus he knows where she works. How did that gift get to the table?”

“I believe there’s a cart in the management office near the main hotel lobby. Anything that gets delivered goes onto the cart, and then a staff member wheels it over when it’s full. The theatre is connected to the main hotel by a hallway on the first floor.”

“The bags get left in my dressing room,” I said. “I take a look through, and anything I don’t want—which is most of the stuff—gets put on a table for folks to help themselves.”

“What day did the note arrive?” Derek asked.

“Opening night. Last Friday,” Ryder said. “In a gold gift bag. Ms. Maara didn’t think much of it until the next note arrived at her home.”

Derek reached for his mouse. “Let’s take a look.”

It turned out that the millions of screens in the security centre mostly showed the gambling areas. Blackjack tables, poker games, slot machines… There were cameras in other parts of the hotel, but not nearly so many. Our first glimpse of the gold bag came when the uniformed employee pushing the gift cart turned a corner, and a tourist too busy gawking at the decor bumped into him. A fluffy turtle fell onto the floor as the cart got jostled, and when the employee rearranged the gifts, the bag came into view, tucked behind a bouquet of flowers.

“If it was on the cart, does that mean someone dropped it off at the front desk?” Ryder asked. “Can we check those cameras?”

“Sure. But I think some items come by mail. Not everyone can get to Vegas in person.”

We wasted an hour of our lives watching every tape from the lobby for the whole freaking day on fast forward. There was no sign of the bag.

Ryder looked far from happy about that. “Could it have arrived earlier? The day before? If Luna’s show didn’t start until Friday, then you must have been storing up the gifts?”

Finally, a question I could answer. “I was here rehearsing for three days prior. The cart showed up every day.”

“I’ll ask the mailroom staff, see if anyone recalls the package,” Derek promised.

Ryder offered his card. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Blackwood Security?”

“I normally work out of the Virginia office, but I’ve been contracted with Ms. Maara in the past. So now I’m here. Continuity.”

The two men exchanged a look, and what the heck did that mean? Should I be insulted? I felt as if I should be insulted.

“Good luck,” Derek said.

“Yeah.”

Yeah? Jerk.

I pretended to be nice and dumb until we reached the elevator, and then I poked Ryder in the chest.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“In there, that monosyllabic bro-speak. Were you being rude about me?”

“Mildly. You’re on camera, by the way, so keep looking pissed.”

“Why?”

“Because the more people who think we aren’t too fond of each other, the fewer rumours will fly. Just do me a favour and don’t kick me in the balls.”

“Because you need them to think with?”

He leaned against the mirrored wall and folded his well-muscled arms. The corner of his lips twitched.

“Because someday in the future, you might have another use for them.”

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