Brody,” I said. This was, technically… Okay, this wasn’t even remotely true. But it was close enough to true to work. Brody pushed me away and let me turn around.
His gaze raked my face. “Who?”
I took a gamble, throwing more sand to distract him by using the one name I knew would get a rise out of him. “A contact of Dixie’s, some guy who let drop his interest in the Rarity, that he was going to break in early, do a smash-and-grab. She got nervous about a Connected committing a crime on your turf right after you’d come over to talk with her, and asked me to check him out. One thing led to another and…I ended up here.”
“Dixie,” Brody repeated. “She put you up to this.” I could see him considering that, working the angles, trying to figure out if he needed to upgrade the astrologer from a gorgeous handful of Southern Comfort to the status of “useful contact.”
Oh well. Couldn’t be helped.
“Didn’t matter, though.” I shrugged. “I thought the guy came in here—then I lost him. Then you showed up, opened up Door Number Two, and I…slipped and fell.” Close enough.
“That was you.” He smiled smugly. “Who’s the guy you were following?”
“Nigel Friedman,” I said, without hesitation. “British operative, blond, medium build. Seriously bad news. You need me to spell that for you?”
“I don’t.” Brody pursed his lips, thinking. I almost felt bad leading him on this way—almost. “You lost him in here?”
“I followed him pretty close, figuring whatever tech he was using to get in would remain active for a narrow window after he passed through, jamming the security system. I was right on his heels to get through the door using his key card, but he was already running when I hit the inner sanctum. After I picked myself up off the floor, he was long gone.” I blinked up at him brightly. “But if the cameras are back online, you’ll be able to find him, right? They are, aren’t they?”
He scowled. “They are, at least in the outer rooms. This chamber is still on the fritz.”
Thank you, Simon . I rocked back on my heels, suddenly very aware of the highly unusual watch I was toting on my wrist. If Brody took me downtown for questioning, which he would simply to piss me off I suspected, the watch would need to go.
Brody took a step back and swung around, surveying the interior. “Something’s going on here. There’s way too many people in the city this week. Too many for the gold show.”
“Isn’t Mr. Olympia in town too?”
His glance back to me was startled, then his expression soured. “If you know what’s going on, Sara, don’t hold out on me. I don’t have time for bullshit.”
“No idea.” I faced him directly. As always, his flinty blue-gray eyes seemed almost stark in his hard-planed face. “And it’s not like there’s a flood of tourists in here. Just me—and you—and, well, Nigel. What were you checking up on, anyway?”
“That’s official police business.”
“Yeah, ’cause I heard Nigel was after some Egyptian scroll cases, super expensive too. So spill.” I grinned at him. “Were they cool? Did they glow when you touched them?”
“They did not.” He frowned. “Dixie’s contact thinks they have magical properties?”
“Nigel. Nigel Friedman. And maybe yes, maybe no.” I shrugged.
“Well, at least that would make sense.” Brody’s face took on a mutinous cast. “This flood of tourists—they’re all Connecteds. There’s a mess of them in the lower-level casinos and bargain hotels. And I get that solstice is coming up, but I’m not buying that’s the reason they’re here.”
I wrinkled a brow. “Um, not to put too fine a point on it, but if they’re not making any trouble, what do you care? I’m willing to concede that the LVMPD might engage in profiling of bad guys, but keeping a sheet on fortune-tellers and hypnotists? Doesn’t really seem like low-hanging fruit on the tree of evil.”
“It’s not
His gaze raked my face. “Who?”
I took a gamble, throwing more sand to distract him by using the one name I knew would get a rise out of him. “A contact of Dixie’s, some guy who let drop his interest in the Rarity, that he was going to break in early, do a smash-and-grab. She got nervous about a Connected committing a crime on your turf right after you’d come over to talk with her, and asked me to check him out. One thing led to another and…I ended up here.”
“Dixie,” Brody repeated. “She put you up to this.” I could see him considering that, working the angles, trying to figure out if he needed to upgrade the astrologer from a gorgeous handful of Southern Comfort to the status of “useful contact.”
Oh well. Couldn’t be helped.
“Didn’t matter, though.” I shrugged. “I thought the guy came in here—then I lost him. Then you showed up, opened up Door Number Two, and I…slipped and fell.” Close enough.
“That was you.” He smiled smugly. “Who’s the guy you were following?”
“Nigel Friedman,” I said, without hesitation. “British operative, blond, medium build. Seriously bad news. You need me to spell that for you?”
“I don’t.” Brody pursed his lips, thinking. I almost felt bad leading him on this way—almost. “You lost him in here?”
“I followed him pretty close, figuring whatever tech he was using to get in would remain active for a narrow window after he passed through, jamming the security system. I was right on his heels to get through the door using his key card, but he was already running when I hit the inner sanctum. After I picked myself up off the floor, he was long gone.” I blinked up at him brightly. “But if the cameras are back online, you’ll be able to find him, right? They are, aren’t they?”
He scowled. “They are, at least in the outer rooms. This chamber is still on the fritz.”
Thank you, Simon . I rocked back on my heels, suddenly very aware of the highly unusual watch I was toting on my wrist. If Brody took me downtown for questioning, which he would simply to piss me off I suspected, the watch would need to go.
Brody took a step back and swung around, surveying the interior. “Something’s going on here. There’s way too many people in the city this week. Too many for the gold show.”
“Isn’t Mr. Olympia in town too?”
His glance back to me was startled, then his expression soured. “If you know what’s going on, Sara, don’t hold out on me. I don’t have time for bullshit.”
“No idea.” I faced him directly. As always, his flinty blue-gray eyes seemed almost stark in his hard-planed face. “And it’s not like there’s a flood of tourists in here. Just me—and you—and, well, Nigel. What were you checking up on, anyway?”
“That’s official police business.”
“Yeah, ’cause I heard Nigel was after some Egyptian scroll cases, super expensive too. So spill.” I grinned at him. “Were they cool? Did they glow when you touched them?”
“They did not.” He frowned. “Dixie’s contact thinks they have magical properties?”
“Nigel. Nigel Friedman. And maybe yes, maybe no.” I shrugged.
“Well, at least that would make sense.” Brody’s face took on a mutinous cast. “This flood of tourists—they’re all Connecteds. There’s a mess of them in the lower-level casinos and bargain hotels. And I get that solstice is coming up, but I’m not buying that’s the reason they’re here.”
I wrinkled a brow. “Um, not to put too fine a point on it, but if they’re not making any trouble, what do you care? I’m willing to concede that the LVMPD might engage in profiling of bad guys, but keeping a sheet on fortune-tellers and hypnotists? Doesn’t really seem like low-hanging fruit on the tree of evil.”
“It’s not
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