“I’m David Kamen, the president of Premium Security.” Kamen was dressed in a black knit turtleneck and gray pants. He was in his mid-thirties, tall and good-looking, with sandy blond hair and a freckled, southern California complexion. He wore boxy black glasses that had been out of style for so long that Serena assumed they were hip again.
Kamen guided them into his office, which was as attractively decorated as the lobby. Serena noted that the door was heavy and closed behind them with a solid thud.
“Before we sit down, may I see your identification, please?”
Serena and Cordy both presented their shields, and Kamen studied them carefully. He handed them back with a polite smile and gestured for them to sit around a circular oak conference table. Inlaid wood. More daffodils.
“We have some ex-Metro personnel on our team,” Kamen informed them.
Serena nodded and rattled off two names. She wanted Kamen to know they had done their homework. He gave her a small nod of appreciation.
“You’re a shooter, huh?” Cordy asked, pointing at a photograph on the wall that showed Kamen in camouflage, a rifle in his hand. It was one of the few pictures on a wall with dark, metallic wallpaper.
He nodded. “ Afghanistan.”
“A sharpshooter with glasses?” Serena asked.
Kamen winked. “You caught me. My vision is perfect. Better than perfect. The glasses make people think otherwise, and I like it like that. Besides, they’re cool, don’t you think?”
“Long way from shooting ragheads to guarding models in Vegas,” Cordy said. “How’d you wind up here?”
“I was recruited.” Kamen folded his hands together and smiled, not offering details. He wasn’t the kind of man who volunteered information. He waited for them to continue, keeping a polite expression on his face but glancing at the clock on the table.
Serena saw Cordy reaching for the police sketch inside his sport coat, but she gently reached over and took his arm, restraining him. She wanted to hear what they could coax out of the man before putting the killer’s face in front of him.
“You know that Tierney Dargon was murdered last night,” she said.
“Of course. Terrible thing.”
“Your firm provided security for her, right?” Serena asked.
“Mrs. Dargon often used our security personnel when she was in Las Vegas. Moose is an extremely wealthy man, and they were concerned about kidnapping attempts, but they felt secure while they were at MiraBella and didn’t use us there.”
“Bad move, huh?” Cordy said. “Guess they should have had some of your boys around.”
Kamen didn’t reply.
“Did Tierney call and cancel security arrangements with you yesterday?” Serena asked.
“Yes, she did.”
“What were the original arrangements?”
“She was going to spend the evening at one of the Strip casinos. One of my men was going to pick her up and escort her. But she contacted us around noon and indicated she was planning to stay home that night and would not need our services.”
“Did you talk to her directly?”
Kamen shook his head. “She talked to our receptionist.”
“You work with a lot of stars, I bet,” Cordy said. “Must see a lot of wild things. Guess it’s like the Secret Service, you have to keep your mouth shut.”
“We’re very discreet.”
“How about that soap star? The one that did the porno with MJ Lane. You ever work for her?”
“Karyn Westermark is one of our clients, yes,” Kamen acknowledged.
“But not MJ Lane?”
“No.”
“How about last Saturday?” Serena asked. “Was one of your men with Karyn?”
He nodded. “Ms. Westermark contacted us when she arrived in town, and Blake, one of our people, stayed with her while she shopped in the afternoon. She prefers shadow security, where we stay in the background, not with her. We’re there if needed, but we’re not obvious.”
“Was Blake with her on Saturday night, too?”
“No. She dismissed him when she was going to meet MJ.” Kamen added, “I hope you’re not suggesting that any of my people could be involved in the string of murders. Or that we released information about the schedules of our clients.”
“We’re just looking for connections,” Serena said. “When two of our murder victims have ties to the same security agency, we get curious.”
“We work with hundreds of clients, Detective, including many of the most famous people in the city. If someone decides to murder celebrities, or people close to them, there’s a good chance we’ll have a relationship. There’s nothing odd about it.”
Serena knew he was right. Tracking celebrities in Vegas was like shooting fish in a barrel. They were everywhere.
She raised the other names with him-Linda, Carter, and Peter Hale, Albert and Alice Ford-and wasn’t surprised to find that neither of those middle-class families had anything to do with Premium Security. Kamen looked relieved.
“Do you have any other celebrity clients that have ties to the Sheherezade casino?” Serena asked.
She saw a flutter of hesitation in his eyes. “I’m sure there are many,” he replied cautiously. “The Sheherezade has been around for years. Why?”
“There may be a link between the victims and the casino.”
“What kind of link?” Kamen asked.
“We’re not talking about that publicly yet,” Serena replied. “You sound like you’re holding out on us, Mr. Kamen.”
He was silent, pursing his lips and studying her intensely. Serena had the uncomfortable feeling that this was the same look he used on victims through the scope of his sniper’s rifle. “Mr. Kamen?” she added.
“We don’t have any actual ties to the Sheherezade,” he said.
Cordy leaned forward. “Actual ties? How about unactual ties? Sideways ties? Give us a clue, Dave.”
Kamen looked as if he would rather chew glass. “The agency is owned by Mr. Fisso,” he said.
“Boni Fisso owns Premium Security?” Serena asked.
“He owns many businesses,” Kamen said. “Slot manufacturing. Direct marketing. Golf apparel. He has no active day-to-day role in our operations. It’s simply an investment.”
Cordy’s white teeth shone as he grinned at Kamen. “So you’re telling me that you and the boys never do any private work for Mr. Fisso? Teach a few slot cheats that they’re messing with the wrong guy?”
“Nothing like that,” Kamen said through tight lips.
Serena didn’t buy that for a minute. A security agency owned by Boni Fisso was a great way to get muscle on demand and cloak their shadier services under the guise of a legitimate operation. It also explained the low-rent location, to keep the entire agency under wraps. She wondered whether any celebrity secrets made their way back to Fisso as grist for influence and blackmail.
Still, she knew they didn’t have enough, just based on the ties to Karyn and Tierney, to get a warrant to open up their books and go digging. Kamen and Boni were safe for the time being.
“If someone else gets killed and we find out you had information that might have prevented it, we’re going to be taking a long, hard look at Premium Security,” she said. “Is that clear?” Serena knew it was an empty threat, but she made her voice cold and hard.
“Of course, Detective.” Kamen wasn’t intimidated.
Cordy reached inside his jacket pocket to retrieve a copy of the police sketch and handed the paper across the desk. “Now it’s time for show and tell, Dave.”
“We want you to take a look at this sketch and then show it around to your men,” Serena added. “If anyone has seen this man, we need to know about it immediately. And tell them to watch out for him around your clients.”