supervisor!"
Murdock waited a couple minutes, his complexion growing a deep crimson.
He finally spoke again, "This is Leonard Murdock, head of security at Camelot Hotel and Casino. I have your man, Dennis, telling me I don't sound like me."
"Of course." Murdock consulted his computer screen and said, "46825," reading the time-sensitive security currently displayed. The code changed every 30 seconds.
Murdock proceeded with a series of rapid-fire questions. "Who the hell has been pretending to be me? Did Dennis have them code in? Do you record your incoming calls?"
"Good, check. In the meantime I'm dealing with a hit and run here and there's no goddam footage from my entire East Bank of cameras. What happened?"
Murdock, his face almost purple and his jaw set, listened intently. Pushkin figured the supervisor was grilling his employee about what had happened earlier that night.
" WHAT ?" Murdock exploded. "No! I absolutely did not call and ask for a reset.” There was a slight pause. “I'll be waiting," Murdock hung up.
Pushkin's mind was piecing together the story of the missing footage. Someone had called the security company, pretended to be Murdock, and had half the cameras in the hotel reset. During that reset someone was seriously injured, perhaps killed. Pushkin would wait for the hotel security man to find his lost footage or figure out what happened. If the girl died, Pushkin would jump in with both feet. Until then, there were bigger crimes to deal with.
*****
Simon dropped Chris at his condo in Enterprise, near Kettledrum Street. Chris told Simon to drop Cassandra in the middle of the desert and open the bag. Let the desert take what it wanted. Simon thought that sounded fair. She was Mexican and they were desert people. After he dumped the body Simon was to leave Chris's car on the outskirts of the city, preferably in North Vegas.
Simon drove north on Great Basin Highway. It was nearing 2:00AM and the adrenaline was wearing off. He found a service road about sixty-five miles from the city and guided the Taurus along it. The road wrapped behind a couple of small hills; it looked like a good spot to Simon. He pulled the car to the shoulder.
Simon got out of the Taurus and stretched in the early morning air. It was refreshing. He opened the trunk and dragged Cassandra out. It was a clear night, and cool; the stars shone bright in the moonless sky. He dragged her to a cluster of shrubbery and arranged the trash bag in the middle. He tore the bag open on the side facing away from the road.
His task being done, Simon got in the Taurus and found Great Basin Highway right where he'd left it. He drove south toward the glow of Las Vegas. US 93 joined with Interstate 15 and he followed it to Exit 50 that led to North Lamb Boulevard. It was a short jaunt from North Lamb to a series of auto salvage yards. Simon drove past the fences until he saw an open gate. He steered the Taurus through, plunged deep into the middle of the lot, found an open space, and parked the car there.
It was a long walk out of the heart of the salvage yard. The entire time Simon was afraid some accusing voice would shout at him, asking what he was doing out at this time of night. But no one noticed Simon and, for once, he was thankful for the anonymity. He walked a couple of miles down North Lamb to the intersection with East Craig Road.
Simon brought out his cell phone and called Yellow Cab. The ride to Luxor was pricey, and he had to walk a little further along the strip to get to Camelot, but it was worth the money and time.
Once Simon was safely back in his suite, the smell of bleach still thick in the air, the sun was peeking over the horizon. He watched it come up, sober now, feeling completely empty of what makes a person human.
Chapter 11
Chris sipped his cup of dark roast while scanning the Police section of the Las Vegas Herald. There was no mention of the hit and run, nor Cassandra's disappearance. However, there was a
Murdock waited a couple minutes, his complexion growing a deep crimson.
He finally spoke again, "This is Leonard Murdock, head of security at Camelot Hotel and Casino. I have your man, Dennis, telling me I don't sound like me."
"Of course." Murdock consulted his computer screen and said, "46825," reading the time-sensitive security currently displayed. The code changed every 30 seconds.
Murdock proceeded with a series of rapid-fire questions. "Who the hell has been pretending to be me? Did Dennis have them code in? Do you record your incoming calls?"
"Good, check. In the meantime I'm dealing with a hit and run here and there's no goddam footage from my entire East Bank of cameras. What happened?"
Murdock, his face almost purple and his jaw set, listened intently. Pushkin figured the supervisor was grilling his employee about what had happened earlier that night.
" WHAT ?" Murdock exploded. "No! I absolutely did not call and ask for a reset.” There was a slight pause. “I'll be waiting," Murdock hung up.
Pushkin's mind was piecing together the story of the missing footage. Someone had called the security company, pretended to be Murdock, and had half the cameras in the hotel reset. During that reset someone was seriously injured, perhaps killed. Pushkin would wait for the hotel security man to find his lost footage or figure out what happened. If the girl died, Pushkin would jump in with both feet. Until then, there were bigger crimes to deal with.
*****
Simon dropped Chris at his condo in Enterprise, near Kettledrum Street. Chris told Simon to drop Cassandra in the middle of the desert and open the bag. Let the desert take what it wanted. Simon thought that sounded fair. She was Mexican and they were desert people. After he dumped the body Simon was to leave Chris's car on the outskirts of the city, preferably in North Vegas.
Simon drove north on Great Basin Highway. It was nearing 2:00AM and the adrenaline was wearing off. He found a service road about sixty-five miles from the city and guided the Taurus along it. The road wrapped behind a couple of small hills; it looked like a good spot to Simon. He pulled the car to the shoulder.
Simon got out of the Taurus and stretched in the early morning air. It was refreshing. He opened the trunk and dragged Cassandra out. It was a clear night, and cool; the stars shone bright in the moonless sky. He dragged her to a cluster of shrubbery and arranged the trash bag in the middle. He tore the bag open on the side facing away from the road.
His task being done, Simon got in the Taurus and found Great Basin Highway right where he'd left it. He drove south toward the glow of Las Vegas. US 93 joined with Interstate 15 and he followed it to Exit 50 that led to North Lamb Boulevard. It was a short jaunt from North Lamb to a series of auto salvage yards. Simon drove past the fences until he saw an open gate. He steered the Taurus through, plunged deep into the middle of the lot, found an open space, and parked the car there.
It was a long walk out of the heart of the salvage yard. The entire time Simon was afraid some accusing voice would shout at him, asking what he was doing out at this time of night. But no one noticed Simon and, for once, he was thankful for the anonymity. He walked a couple of miles down North Lamb to the intersection with East Craig Road.
Simon brought out his cell phone and called Yellow Cab. The ride to Luxor was pricey, and he had to walk a little further along the strip to get to Camelot, but it was worth the money and time.
Once Simon was safely back in his suite, the smell of bleach still thick in the air, the sun was peeking over the horizon. He watched it come up, sober now, feeling completely empty of what makes a person human.
Chapter 11
Chris sipped his cup of dark roast while scanning the Police section of the Las Vegas Herald. There was no mention of the hit and run, nor Cassandra's disappearance. However, there was a
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