Jackpot Murder

Tony wandered among the unending maze of slot machines, giving a casual glance left and right as he passed through their rows and the cacophony of their electronic bells and whistles. Every one of them called out to anyone to sit and plug coin after coin into them with the promise of financial independence for life.

A native of Nevada, Tony had long since grown immune to their seductive sounds and walked without purpose between tourists seated at the one-armed bandits, seduced by the assurance and eager for that elusive goal.

Carson City was nowhere near the draw of her sister city Las Vegas, but the capitol still attracted millions every year, all of them expecting to hit it big, and make their fortune by gambling away their hard-earned wages.

As the psionic detective for Nevada, Tony's clairvoyant powers were at the disposal of all state law enforcement agencies, but his uncanny ability to see a short distance into the future gave him an edge the casino owners wished he didn't possess. He knew which slot machines were about to jackpot and not only could he count cards, he knew what the jack black dealers were holding as well as everyone else at the table. To their knowledge, he had never cleaned them out.

To their knowledge.

Tony kept many secrets to himself. The casino owners need not be bothered with the exact amount of his winnings nor the details of his methods.

A familiar mental presence alerted his mind. He changed direction and walked to a young man with a shaved head and ball cap turned backwards, methodically pumping quarters into a slot machine and pulling the lever.

"How's it goin', Ricky?"

The young man glanced up for only a second. "Hey, Tony. Not good at all. I've lost way more than I've won."

Having heard this lament more times than he could count, Tony made the necessary sympathetic noises. Ricky tore his gaze from his antagonizer to fix a glare on Tony.

"You know if you were a real pal, you'd use those powers of yours and tell me which slot machine is about to give up its jackpot."

"Ricky," Tony protested in an exasperated tone. "The surveillance in these casinos is so elaborate and so sophisticated, they can probably scan your stomach and see what you ate for breakfast."

"That hi-tech?"

"Yes. And these machines are so random there's no way to tell which one is going to jackpot."

Ricky turned back to the slot machine with a sigh of frustration. "It was worth a try."

"It's all right," Tony said, patting Ricky on the shoulder. With a subtle move, he moved his fingers to touch the skin on the back of his neck. Using his telepathy, Tony inserted an image into Ricky's mind. He walked away with a casual air.

Ricky froze when the view of a slot machine entered his thoughts. He glanced at Tony's retreating back. Matching Tony's nonchalance, he rose and took slow steps, hands behind his back to the one-armed bandit he saw in his mind.

A short distance away, Tony saw a voluptuous woman in a tight Carson City Police Department uniform, walking in his direction. He saw fatigue covering her beautiful face by the way her mascara-lined lashes drooped over her eyes. Her short red hair looked disheveled.

"Hey, Officer Cassie!" he said in greeting.

"Hey, Officer Tony," she replied, each word spoken with effort.

"I guess I don't have to ask how you're doing this evening?"

"I'm SO glad my shift is over," she said, slumping her shoulders. "My feet hurt and I just wanna go home."

An alarm interrupted her as the noise signaled a jackpot. Cassandra closed her eyes and raised a hand to her forehead in an effort to shut out the din. Tony knew at once that the sound aggravated her fatigue and that Ricky won.

Tony waited with Cassie until the racket, applause and shouting died down.

"You were saying that you're going home?" Tony urged her to leave.

"Hey, Tony!" Ricky ran up from behind him, toting a plastic bucket with his winnings. "You were right! You..." He stopped as his eyes focused on Cassandra. "You never told me the goddess of beauty worked for the police department."

A smile erased much of the weariness from Cassie's face. With fingers spread, she placed a hand on Tony's chest, shoving him out of the way, and stepped closer to Ricky.

"What do you know about goddesses?" she asked, holding her hand out for an introduction.

"Ricky. Cassie. Cassie. Ricky." Tony said in a monotone. He knew neither of them paid him any attention after the first glance.

Instead of shaking her hand, Ricky raised it to his lips, kissed it gently, then turning it over, placed another on the inside of her wrist. She gasped in pleasure at the sensation.

"I know that goddesses deserve to have their feet massaged," Ricky said, looking deep into her green eyes.

"Oh?"

"And they need to be fed chocolate."

"Careful," she warned with a grin. "Anything you say may be held against you." Tony noted that her lowered eyelids exuded sultriness instead of exhaustion.

"So noted. Cassie." Rick emphasized her name, teasing her with a raised eyebrow. "May I buy you a drink?"

"Yes, you may." She slipped her hand inside his arm and let him lead her away.

"No body cavity searches without a warrant, Cassie," Tony called after them.

"Mind your own business, Tony!" Ricky shouted back.

Tony chuckled in amazement as he watched them head for the bar. "Goddess of beauty? I need to remember that line."

The next morning, Tony sat at his kitchen table, eating breakfast, reading the newspaper and listening to the local news on the television. The phone rang disturbing his meal.

"Tony, this is Chief Hudson. Cassandra is missing." The police chief of Carson City admired and respected the psionic officer, even though he did not understand his powers.

"What? I saw her last night with a friend of mine."

"She hasn't reported for duty and we can't raise her by phone or radio. Do you think you might be able to...you know?"

"Use my telepathy?" Tony grew annoyed at the chief's reluctance to use the term. "Sure."

"Do you think your friend - "

"No." Tony cut him off. "The only danger Ricky posed was to her virtue and you know Cassie. Ricky's in more danger than she is. I'll find them."

He hung up and turned off the TV. He called Ricky's house and his cell phone but got no answer.

Has something happened to both of them?

Clad only in a loose tank-top and pajama pants, Tony teleported to Ricky's home. A quick search of the premises revealed no Ricky, no Cassandra and no indication that either of them had been there overnight.

I need something that he's touched recently, perhaps right before he went to the casino. As he stood in a room converted to an office, Tony heard a small fan start up.

His computer is still on. He's always on the damn thing. The mouse!

Sitting in the desk chair, he cradled the mouse in his hands, eyes closed. At once images filled his mind of Ricky at the computer, sitting in the same chair, watching TV.

Where are you now?

This arcane talent, the ability to pick up images from touching objects, could not be forced but must be allowed to let apparitions and visions pass through his mind in a natural flow. Buildings, landmarks and places of interest to Ricky flashed across his consciousness as his mind searched for his friend. The visions switched from one to another like a slide show on fast forward. Sites beyond Carson City appeared to his mind's eye as he looked further.

Did you and Cassie leave town? Tony wondered as his clairvoyance took him to the desert, outside the city.

At last, the vision of a police cruiser came to view in his percipience. Although he didn't recognize it from its outward appearance, since all CCPD cars looked the same, Tony knew it was Cassandra's unit. He recognized the surrounding land features being north of the city, but the exact location of the vehicle remained elusive.

He sensed two minds in the car, both scared and abashed. Tony focused his power on Ricky's as the more familiar of the pair, and used it as a homing beacon to pinpoint the spot which happened to be almost fifteen miles away. Still it was an easy teleport for him.

Tony materialized a short distance from the cruiser to prevent being observed. The psionic officers kept this gift, the ability to disappear from one place and appear almost simultaneously in a remote location, a closely guarded secret. He approached the car with caution, alert for any trouble that would cause the emotions he felt in Ricky and Cassandra.

Nothing appeared to be amiss as he closed the distance between him and the police car. An eerie silence encompassed the entire scene.

"Cassie! Ricky!" Tony called to the cruiser, keeping his powers on full alert.

A shock of red hair appeared in a rear side window as Cassandra peered over the sill.

"Tony! Oh, thank god you're here!" she cried out.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, but don't come any closer!" She held out a bare arm to stop him in his tracks.

Tony ceased his approach. "Where's Ricky?"

"He's here and he's ok, too." She glanced over her shoulder as she answered. Tony still felt fear and embarrassment.

"What's going on?" His annoyance grew since he could discern no immediate danger.

Cassie hesitated for a few seconds. "We can't find our clothes," she blurted out.

Tony bit his lip to keep from laughing as Cassie rose up just enough to show she was shirtless but not to expose her breasts. Tony removed his tank-top and tossed it through the window. He waited while she slipped it over her head and then stepped up to the cruiser. The tank-top covered her figure but just barely and left little to the imagination.

He peered into the back seat and saw Ricky, also shorn of clothes with wrists handcuffed behind his back. Ricky curled up in an effort to maintain what little remained of his decency. Cassandra did her best to cover him as well, with her barely clad body.

Struggling to keep a straight face, Tony snapped his fingers and with a touch of telekinesis, the handcuffs flew off of Ricky's wrists into Tony's waiting hand.

"Don't you say a word, Tony," Ricky muttered. He couldn't meet Tony's eyes. He rubbed his wrists while Cassandra massaged his shoulders to restore blood flow. Tony imagined that Ricky had been in that position for sometime.

"Do you have any idea where your clothes are?" Tony asked, moving away from the car, to give them a modicum of privacy.

"No, we don't remember much about last night, where our clothes are or how we got here. Where are we?" Cassandra's embarrassment faded to be replaced by confusion.

"North of Carson City," Tony said as he scanned the vicinity with his clairvoyance but found no trace of a policewoman's uniform or the jeans and shirt Ricky wore the day before. Even his percipience yielded no trace of their garments. Tony decided that he was wasting time and the best plan of action was taking them home.

The keys hung in the ignition as Tony climbed behind the wheel. He started the car and drove through scrub brush and sand to reach the nearest road.

Cassandra cradled Ricky protectively in her arms and stroked his hair for the trip back to Carson City. Tony breathed a quiet sigh of relief that neither of them seemed curious as to how he find them in that location without an obvious vehicle or other form of transportation. He marveled at Cassandra and Ricky, watching them in the rear view mirror as they talked in low voices to each other. It appeared their traumatic experience drew them closer together, rather than driving them apart.

Tony alerted the dispatcher on duty at the Carson City Police Department headquarters that Cassandra had been found unharmed and they were on their way back. The dispatcher acknowledged.

Several seconds later, Chief Hudson came on the radio. "Where has she been?" he demanded.

Tony understood the chief's anger with Cassie but defended her in the light of her precarious situation.

"Chief, it's all right. Cassie had a moment of indiscretion, but she's fine. I'm taking her home and she'll be on duty in a little while."

"No, she won't."

Tony saw Cassandra's head pop up in the rear view mirror, with surprise and shock on her face.

"Come back, sir?" Tony asked into the microphone.

"Where are her clothes?" the chief snapped.

Cassandra's face changed to horror. Ricky sat up.

"That's unknown at this time, chief."

"Have her report to my office immediately. She's on administrative leave until further notice!"

All color drained from her face.

Tony delivered Ricky to his house, managing to get him inside without the neighbors noticing his au naturel state. He dropped Cassie, shaken and frantic at her house, and then returned home via taxi.

No sense in wasting my powers especially when secrecy here is nigh impossible.

After cleaning up, Tony drove his BMW Z4 convertible to the police headquarters. Cassandra arrived shortly before him and went directly to the chief's office.

Tony questioned several officers but no one what happened that resulted in Cassandra's suspension.

An hour later, she emerged, tears streaming down her reddened face. She held her head high but ran out of the building without speaking. Tony hurried after her and caught up with her as she collapsed against her cruiser. He held her until the hysterics subsided. Between periods of crying, Cassandra relayed the chief's anger to Tony.

"They found my uniform and my issued firearm next to the body of the casino owner where you introduced me to Ricky last night. It appears that it was my gun that killed him."

Tony hid his surprise.

Why wasn't I alerted to a murder in my city, especially when a policewoman appears to be involved?

To Cassandra, he asked, "What motive would you have for killing him?"

"I asked the chief that very question but he didn't know either. I think he's on my side but he has to follow regulations. He took the keys to my cruiser." She managed to compose herself and allowed Tony to drive her to Ricky's house.

Later he returned to the casino where he met Cassandra and Ricky the night before. The Nevada State Bureau of Investigation set up a barrier in a landscaped area behind the building, next to another casino property. Although mid-morning, the sun baked the city, turning it into a huge griddle. Tony's dark Italian features glistened with sweat in the blistering heat as he approached the scene.

The body of an overweight man in his sixties lay on its back. A small pool of red discolored the front of his shirt where a bullet entered his chest. The small trickle of blood dried on the hot pavement under the brutal sun. A police revolver lay near the body.

A CCPD uniform and the clothes Ricky wore the night before formed a trail leading from the scene toward the parking lot. Tony groaned as he watched a forensic technician examine the walled pulled from the pocket in Ricky's jeans with a man, whom he recognized as Detective White, looking over his shoulder.

White straightened when Tony approached.

"Mr. Benito Gallo, owner of the casino here," he said, indicating the corpse. "Found by a garbage collector this morning. Shot once at close range, allegedly by the police revolver next to the body." The forensic technician handed the wallet to the detective.

"A friend of yours?" White asked Tony.

Tony nodded.

"It doesn't look good for him," White went on. "It appears that Cassie pulled the trigger, unless his fingers show up on the alleged murder weapon, but that makes him an accomplice."

"I can't believe that Ricky or Cassandra would do something like this," Tony protested.

"From what we understand, they drank a bit in the bar before they left. They must've bumped into Mr. Gallo here behind the casino and something terribly wrong."

"What exactly went wrong?" Tony pressed.

Detective White shrugged. "Hopefully our investigation will discover that." He moved away to resume his duties.

This makes no sense, Tony thought. Just because Cassie and Ricky got drunk and from the evidence presented, very frisky, that is no reason why she would shoot to kill Mr. Gallo?

He knelt beside Gallo's body and looked at the jowls and cheeks of a man well-fed and the gray hair, slicked back to reveal a receding hairline.

"Gallo," Tony asked as though the corpse might answer. "What happened here last night? Who knows what really went down? Who could have seen...?" Tony glanced up toward the casino. "Detective White!"

The detective returned to Tony's side.

"Look!" Tony pointed to the roof. "There's a surveillance camera. Maybe it caught the murder."

"We've contacted the casino about that," White said. "But Gallo, Jr., the owner's son, is apparently in charge now due to the demise of his father. And since the main suspect is a member of the local police force, he's just a tad resistant to release the surveillance footage to us. We're getting the necessary subpoenas to review them but it's gonna be a while."

"The son is in charge now?"

The detective nodded with a smirk and walked away.

Very interesting, Tony mused. There may be another reason the son doesn't want us to see the video footage. And I'm not going to wait for the damn subpoena.

He left the crime scene and entered the casino. He made his way to the security office. Inside, rows upon rows of video monitors zoomed in on people at slot machines, roulette wheels and blackjack tables, showing them in high resolution images.

The area outside the casino appeared in bright colorful pictures as vehicles in the parking lot seemed to leap off the screens so vividly that the license plates could be read without difficulty.

Half a dozen security officers greeted Tony by name and shook his hand. He took advantage of the physical contact to begin his telepathic plan, by inserting a suggestion into each officer's mind. Clairvoyance was by far his stronger ability, so this boost to his telepathy was a serendipitous occurrence.

"Anyway possible I could look at the surveillance video from last night?" Tony asked after the introductions were complete.

Charlie Stone, the chief of casino security, shook his head with regret. "No, Tony. Mr. Gallo, Jr. said that under no circumstances are we to show those videos to anyone in law enforcement. He thinks that the CCPD will use it somehow to get that policewoman off."

How typical, Tony thought with annoyance. Gallo enjoys the protection of the Carson City police but when they need his help, he abandons them.

He pushed his telepathic suggestion with a gentle shove. "But he wouldn't mind if I took a peek, would he?" He oozed charm and innocence.

The chief hesitated, glancing at the other officers, who avoided his look. "Well, uh..." His resistance started to buckle, so Tony pushed a little harder.

Controlling six minds taxed his power but he knew it was worth the effort. "I'm sure the murder was caught on tape. Mr. Gallo would be very pleased with you if you helped solve the case."

The barriers in their minds crumbled as one and all nodded. They searched the archives with new enthusiasm for the time frame Tony gave them. Soon, the sequence of events came together.

Tony watched himself on the playback monitor as he introduced Ricky to Cassandra and then left. The couple went to the casino bar and drank cocktails. She removed her police shirt prior to entering and relaxed in a sports bra unabashed. While they enjoyed their drinks, they flirted and touched each other with comfortable and mutually welcome gestures. The bartender chatted with them on several occasions throughout the evening.

Something alerted Tony's consciousness as he watched the images. He rewound the video and watched the scene several more times until he was certain of what he saw.

They left the bar walking hand in hand toward the parking lot behind the casino. Once the reached the police cruiser, the distance between them collapsed. They fell into each other's arms, writhing in unbridled passion with a flurry of limbs and clothing tossed into the air.

"Now, we know how their clothes got off," Tony said flatly while the security guards chuckled. Feeling like a voyeur, he endured the steamy scene until they climbed into the cruiser and drove off.

Silence fell over the room.

Tony turned to face the room. "I didn't see any murder there. Where is the video of the camera focused on the area behind the casino where Mr. Gallo, Sr. was killed?" He kept his telepathic pressure on.

They brought up the surveillance footage. Tony and the chief scanned the video several times, but nothing showed up. No murder, no clues, nothing.

"I'm stunned, Tony," the chief said, almost pleading. I had no idea there was such a blind spot in our security camera."

"Right where Mr. Gallo was murdered," muttered Tony. "How convenient." This was an oversight that Cassandra and Ricky wouldn't be aware of but an employee would. Especially the new owner.

Ricky opened his front door before Tony knocked. Clad only in briefs, he led Tony through the house to his bedroom where Cassandra lay, curled up in a fetal position and wrapped in blankets. Tony saw that she had been crying. Ricky slipped off his underwear and crawled under the covers next to her, wrapping his arms around her.

Cassandra looked up as she noticed Tony standing at the foot of the bed. A flicker of hope danced behind her red puffy eyes.

"The surveillance tapes all but exonerate you from killing Mr. Gallo," Tony said in a matter-of-fact tone. Cassandra sat up with a gasp.

"Are you serious?" She covered her mouth with both hands in anticipation and almost allowed the blankets to drop, nearly exposing her breasts. Ricky caught the covers in time and held them up in front of her.

"Yes, I think I know who did kill Mr. Gallo but I don't know why," Tony said. "What can either of you tell me about the casino bar?"

Cassandra and Ricky looked at each other in an effort to remember. She took up the story. "After we left you, we went into the bar to have drinks. I don't know how many we had before we left." She focused her eyes on the bedspread in front of her as it to recall and grasp each memory.

"What were you drinking?"

"I was having cosmopolitans and Ricky drank screwdrivers."

"I splurged," Ricky spoke up. "I insisted on buying her the premium stuff, Grey Goose."

"Yes, I remember seeing that on the surveillance tape."

"The good stuff never affects me like that," Cassie put her head into her hands.

"But cheap liquor will?" Tony asked.

Cassie and Ricky both nodded. "But I paid for the high-dollar vodka and I watched the bartender. He used the Grey Goose every time," Ricky protested.

"Where did you leave your police shirt, Cassie?" Tony turned to her.

Again, Cassandra made an effort to remember. "I took it off and handed it to the bartender when we entered. I didn't want to wear it in the bar, but he said he would hold it for me while I drank."

"And you didn't get it back from him?"

She shook her head.

"Ricky, do you have any Grey Goose here?"

"Yeah, in the liquor cabinet. You know where that is?"

Tony left the bedroom and made his way to the den where Ricky stored his spirits. He found the bottle he was looking for and examined it closely. His mind's eye probed the contents, the glass and even the cap. Considered the cream of the crop, Tony wondered how a harsh liquid could seduce so many people and make them addicts to its sharp flavor.

His expanded percipience alerted him to Ricky's presence before he entered the room.

"Anthony?" Ricky's voice though soft, quivered with urgency and worry.

Turning to face him, Tony noted with amusement that Ricky hadn't bothered putting his briefs back on. "Tell her not to worry." Tony darted out of the house.

Tony sat in the same chair where Cassandra had been the night before drinking with Ricky. He scrutinized the elaborate array of liquor bottles displayed behind the bar, placed in strategic locations.

As if on cue, the bartender from the video surveillance tapes, whose name badge identified him as Marco, stepped in front of Tony and placed a small, square napkin on the bar.

"Something to drink, sir?" he asked in the automatic tone of someone long bored with his job.

"Red wine, please," Tony answered, still gazing at the liquor bottles. "I notice you have two bottles of everything up there," he said with casual interest.

Marco poured a glass of merlot. "Yeah, it helps out if you don't have to search the entire place for a certain brand if someone asks for it." Marco seemed a little less stiff now that someone was interested in his job.

"Can I see the bottles of Grey Goose?"

"Why?" Marco asked with suspicion.

"I just want to know if they are different." Tony knew it sounded lame, but for lack of anything better to say, it would have to do.

"Trust me. They're the same." Marco walked away. He gave every indication he thought the question was too annoying to comply.

Tony sipped his wine and gagged at the first taste.

Swill, he thought, repulsed. This isn't wine that's gone bad. That's just bad wine. I recognize the label and it's supposed to be a good brand.

The bartender glanced his way to ensure he was behaving and then vanished into a back room.

Video cameras be damned. Beckoning with his telekinesis, the two Grey Goose bottles floated into his waiting hands. He probed them with the same scrutiny as the one in Ricky's house. He clutched the bottle from the back row in his right hand while the second, placed lower on the display, sat in his left.

The left one felt different, heavier although less full than the right. Tony's clairvoyance perceived it darker, though colorless and clear. It seemed...vile.

As with Ricky earlier, Benny Gallo, Jr.'s emotions alerted Tony to his approach long before he entered the bar.

"Hey!" Gallo shouted. "If you're not gambling or eating, then you better..."

Tony cut him off with a gesture and a thought. "Did your father ever mention that he suspected one of your employees of embezzlement?"

Gallo gaped back, speechless.

"I hope your suit can be dry-cleaned," Tony said, noting Gallo's finely tailored clothes. "We're going dumpster diving."

Situated far away from public view, the casino's trash receptacles sat near a huge loading dock and reeked of rotten food, mildew and urine. Tony 'saw' the area during his psionic probe of the vodka bottles but he sensed that Gallo found the place unfamiliar.

"Ever been down here before?" Tony couldn't help but taunt the new owner about his knowledge of the casino.

"Yeah," Gallo shrugged as if to show Tony that was a stupid question. "Just don't need to come here much."

Tony ignored the macho posturing and jumped up on the side of a trash bin, peering inside. "Take a look," he invited.

Climbing up beside Tony, Gallo sucked in his breath at the sight of dozens of plastic bottles bearing generic names and brands of vodka, rum, wine and many other spirits.

"One of the oldest tricks in the book," Tony said. "Start the customer out giving him the good stuff and then when he's too drunk to notice, switch to the cheap crap. That's why Marco has two bottles of everything behind the bar. When I saw the video of Cassie and Ricky - " Gallo gave him a sharp look but said nothing " - I noticed that Marco started using one bottle of Grey Goose but switched to another later in the evening. That's when the two of them got drunk and left the bar, leaving their clothes behind. I'm sure Marco knew that your father was suspecting him of bilking the casino by ordering the cheap booze and passing it off as the high-dollar stuff. I noticed that Cassie had her police shirt on when she entered the bar but left without it. She said she gave it to the bartender to hold while she drank. How long has Marco worked for you?"

Gallo thought for a few seconds. "Close to twenty years, I would guess." The macho attitude had disappeared.

"Plenty of time to embezzle a nice wad of cash and to find out where the blind spots are in the security cameras."

The following evening, Tony looked across Ricky's living room at a much-relieved Cassandra, sitting next to Ricky on a comfortable sofa.

"Gallo Jr. has managed to find enough evidence that Marco had been embezzling money for years by buying cheap liquor and refilling the empty bottles of the good stuff with it. He charged the casino for the expensive alcohol and pocketed the difference."

"Pretty good scam," Ricky said.

"He would've kept going except for your reaction to the bad stuff. It was the first time his movements had been scrutinized so closely," Tony explained.

Cassie turned to Ricky, kissing him. "Not that my reaction didn't have a positive side affect," she cooed.

"How about another game of 'good cop, naughty cop'?" Ricky asked in a low lusty voice as Cassie giggled.

Tony fled the house.


WC: 5033