“I don’t get scared of his stories.”
“Oh dear. I didn’t know you were listening.”
“Uh-huh.”
When the kids are settled, Fionna discreetly shows us the text she’d received, a message that apparently came from her computer, and I can see why she’d given me an anxious look a few moments ago.
Agcaoili had just bought a ticket for a red-eye later tonight, a flight that leaves in three hours.
“I thought you should know.”
“Thanks.”
“I need to get my kids home.”
“Sure. I’ll call you later if we need anything.”
Fionna opens her door and Donnie asks from the backseat, “Mom, can we get some butane and hydrogen tomorrow?”
“For what?”
“You add them to soapy water and have someone, like Maddie, hold out her hand and you just light it and—”
“I don’t want you lighting your sister on fire, Donnie.”
“Again,” Maddie adds.
“Again,” Fionna reiterates.
Again?
“But Mom, this morning Xavier showed us how to do it safely.”
“Uh-huh.”
And then she swings the door shut and I can’t make out the rest of the conversation.
Charlene, Xavier, and I discuss the news Fionna just shared with us. I ask if they have any idea how we can find Tomás in the brief window of time we have.
“We could show up at the airport?” Xavier notes the obvious.
“And do what?”
“Hmm… Not sure. Contact security?” But then he argues against his own suggestion before we can. “No, what are they going to do? The guy is legally here, he’s not under investigation by anyone. There’s no reason for them to detain him.”
“I think the airport should be our last resort. In the meantime, we need to talk to someone who might know him before he ever goes there.”
“Who might know a snake wrangler who murdered a man halfway around the world?”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly what?”
“That’s the key.”
He looks at me quizzically. “What is?”
“That he murdered a man halfway around the world and then ended up here in Vegas. He doesn’t live here, we know that already. He came here for a reason.”
“To see someone,” Charlene interjects. “To get paid.”
“That’s what I’m thinking, yes.”
“But how in the world are we going to figure out who he came here to see?”
“We’re not.”
They share a glance, and Charlene says, “Okay, now you’re starting to lose me.”
“You have Nikki’s number?”
“Sure.”
“Let’s call her. I think she might be able to help us.”
The Hideaway
On the phone with Nikki, I summarize what’s going on and then ask her, “Do you know of anyone who might… well, we’re looking for someone who a murderer might have come to Vegas to meet with.”
Someone from the criminal underworld, I think, but I don’t say that.
Before joining our show, Nikki was a high-end call girl, but you can’t be in that business for long and not make at least some contacts with the girls on the other end of the spectrum.
“I really couldn’t say.”
“Think about it, Nikki. Someone, anyone, who would be well enough connected to know a hired killer. A pimp? A dealer? A bookie?”
She considers that for a long time before replying. “There’s one man, but you wouldn’t want to meet him. I’ve heard stories.”
“Stories?”
“About the things he does to people. I met some girls who worked for him. One of them tried to keep some of the money that a client gave her and that she was supposed to hand over.” Nikki hesitates, and when she goes on there’s a thin tremor in her voice. “She showed me the scars, Jevin. Believe me, you don’t want to meet with this man. He’s hard-core.”
Vegas has a spotted history. People don’t typically like to admit it, but organized crime built this city. It used to be that the mob ran most of the gambling here, but as revenues from gambling have decreased, it’s pretty much common knowledge that the mob has moved on to drugs and prostitution, so when Nikki says this guy is hard-core, I assume he’s connected to organized crime.
While we don’t know for sure that someone hired Tomás to kill Emilio, based on all we’ve been able to uncover since we returned to the States, it seems pretty likely. It’s impossible to know if this man has any connection to Emilio’s death, but it’s at least a place to start.
“Nikki, we know that Agcaoili killed Emilio. From what you’re telling me, this guy you’re thinking of might be our best bet in locating him. Even if he doesn’t have the information himself, he might know someone who knows someone.”
She’s slow in replying. “They call him Solomon. That’s really all I know.”
“Solomon.”
“Yes, but I don’t think—”
“Where can we find him?”
I don’t give up, and after one more objection she finally sighs. “Over on Industrial Boulevard. Try a bar called the Hideaway. I’ve heard some girls mention it a few times. That’s all I know. But I really don’t think you should do this.”
“Duly noted. Don’t worry, if anyone asks who told us about Solomon, we never talked to you.”
I don’t get to that part of town much and I don’t know where the Hideaway is, but she gives me directions.
After the call, I update Charlene and Xavier on what Nikki told me, and Charlene asks, “What are you suggesting we do?”
“Not we, me. I’m going alone.”
“No you’re not. Remember what we talked about earlier? About you thinking about me — about the two of us — before jumping into things? If you’re going to talk with this man, I’m coming with you.”
“Charlene, no.”
“I know some girls who might have heard of him. I might be able to smooth the waters. If anyone should talk to him, it’s me.”
“I can’t let you come. Not if there’s any chance you might be put in danger.”
“Well,” she insists, “I’m at least going to come to the bar with you. If you need to go and talk to this man alone, alright. Fine. But I’m not going to sit at the house worrying about you. I’m coming along.”
“So am I,” Xavier informs me firmly.
I try to dissuade them, but they’re as determined as I was with Nikki, and in the end I give in.
I’m guessing that it might not be best to park my $183,000 Aston Martin outside a bar in that part of town, so I suggest we take Charlene’s Ford Focus instead.
The FBI isn’t taking any of this seriously, the police aren’t being helpful, so at least for now it’s up to us to find out some answers. This could very well be our only chance. If we don’t find Tomás in the next couple hours, he might slip away and we would likely never solve the mystery of Emilio’s death.
A thought strikes me: Solomon might be involved in all this, might be the one who hired Tomás.
Keep that in mind. See how it goes. Feel him out.
For a moment I consider contacting Fionna and letting her know what we’re up to, just in case something goes wrong, but then I decide it would only make her worry.
As we’re taking our seats in the car, Xavier looks deep in thought. “If we somehow do manage to find this guy Solomon, and he actually does know something that can help us, he’s not just going to tell us what we want to know. He’ll want something in return.” He turns to me. “What are you willing to offer him?”