Diva Las Vegas by Eileen Davidson

“How far?”
    “Back to the part where Detective Cushing is a lady.”
    “Oh, that far.”
    “You said she was attractive in kind of a stern way?” I asked.
    “Well, yeah, you know,” he said, “the way some businesswomen are when they’re dressed for work.”
    “You mean like your ex-captain?”
    “Yeah, kind of like her.”
    “Jakes, are you playing her down a bit?” I asked.
    “Why would I do that?”
    “Maybe because you think you need to?” I asked. “Maybe you think I would be jealous?”
    “Would you?”
    “No,” I said. “Okay, never mind. This isn’t even the important part.” Annoyed with myself for having brought it up, I took a bite of triple-layer chocolate cake and said, “Just go ahead with your story.”
    “Okay . . .”
     
    Detective Cushing drove them in her Toyota Prius to the Venetian, where they valet parked and then walked up to the Grand Canal Shoppes.
    “Why here?” he asked.
    “I like it here,” she said.
    There were shops on both sides of the canal. Gondolas floated by.
    “Why don’t you tell me what you need while we walk?” she suggested.
    He told her about Shana’s murder and the medicines they found that led them to the doctor in Las Vegas.
    “When we called your department to check on the doctor, we didn’t get much cooperation.”
    “Well . . . whenever you LA boys come to town you, uh, usually have an attitude.”
    “I hope I’m not projecting any attitude now,” Jakes said. “I really need your help—detective to detective.”
    “Actually, we’re not,” she said.
    “So you’re not a detective?”
    “No, no, I am, but it’s a little different in Vegas than in LA. See, here detective is an assignment, not a rank. If tomorrow they wanted to stick me on traffic duty, I’d just be a police officer. Get it?”
    “Yes, I do. So what was the joke back at your HQ?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “They were laughing as we left.”
    “Yes, well . . . they think I’m a joke there, so they assigned me to Community Relations.”
    Community Relations was an assignment usually given to someone good with people but not very good with real police work.
    “I see.” Jakes understood the situation now.
    “I can help you, though,” she said. “You want to go and check out this doctor?”
    “Yeah, I do. Home and office.”
    “Fine,” she said. “Let’s do it. Maybe they think I’m a joke back there—the men, I mean—but that doesn’t mean I am.”
    “No, of course not.”
    “Let me have the doctor’s name and his addresses,” she said, putting her left hand out. He noticed there was no ring on her finger.
    “Would you like a cup of coffee first?” he asked.
     
    “So you noticed she wasn’t wearing a ring, and you bought her coffee,” I said, finishing up my own cup.
    “I’m a detective,” he said. “I notice things. And the truth is, I wanted some coffee. It would have been rude not to offer.”
    “Of course,” I said. Jakes suddenly saw something.
    “Isn’t that your mother and Sarah?”
    I nearly dropped my coffee cup. Sure enough, walking by the entrance of Olives were my mom and Sarah. I guess Sarah had gone stir-crazy in the room and needed to explore. They stopped there briefly as Sarah pointed to the fountains in front of the hotel and then continued on their way.
    “Let’s go say hello.”
    “No! Jakes, no.”
    “Why not? Because your mother doesn’t know I’m here. Does she?” Jakes looked a little hurt.
    “I just wanted to save myself some grief, you know? My mom isn’t too thrilled about the whole criminal-investigation thing.”
    “And not too thrilled with your being involved with me, either. I know.”
    “It’s not personal, Jakes. If she really knew you, I know she’d love you.”
    “So, what’s stopping her from knowing me?” He reached over the table and held my hand. “Alex, I understand your need to protect Sarah. I really do. But I think it’s time we came out of the closet, so to speak. I want