bamboozled Kip’s casino?”
“You could say that,” he shrugged. “That’s the extent of it as far as I know.”
“And the consequence was only that he was banned,” she stated, but it was really a question.
“Apparently,” he said. “Kip doesn’t usually go so easy on these types, but with David’s engagement to Gretchen...you know...he wanted to keep it clean and friendly.”
Maybe he had, but changed his mind , Kitty pondered.
“How does Kip usually deal with those types?” she pressed then quickly added off his shifting glare. “Forgive me, I find it interesting. This is a whole new world for me. I’ve never been to a casino.”
“Ah,” he smiled. “You should. It’s a hell of a good time so long as you don’t bring more cash than you’re willing to lose. The house always wins, you know. At the end of the day, we always win.”
Indeed. But was Christopher referring to a winning hand or taking lives?
“Find the weak spot,” he went on. “Then use it against the guy.”
“So for all intents and purposes, Kip probably felt like Marcus owed him money,” she suggested, gauging his expression for any sign she was right.
“I don’t know about that,” he said easily. “But it’s safe to say my boss isn’t that torn up over the guy’s death.”
“So when did you get ordained?” she asked, changing topics, though it was very much the same line of questioning.
“Maybe a week ago,” he said, sheepishly. “Kip thought it’d be a good idea.”
Since he’d been planning to snuff out Marcus?
“This’ll be my first wedding,” he added.
“Then we have a lot of work to do,” said Kitty, thoughts turning to her first priority: making sure this wedding would be an absolute success.
As she turned her attention toward going over the finer ins-and-outs of what Christopher would have to do in order to properly preside over the nuptials, Kitty realized it had been on Kip’s suggestion that she show the mansion to the picky Gretchen Downey.
Chapter Eight
It had required blood, sweat, and tears to lift the sixty-pound magnet out of the floor, but Sterling and his team had managed. When he’d first stared down at it beside Kitty he would’ve never guessed the circular magnet was twelve inches deep, but it was and because of it, it’d taken five men and a miniature crane to extract it from the marble hole.
Sterling eyed it, as the lead forensic analyst used a microscope to hunt for its serial number. The magnet sat on top of a folding table in the center of the ballroom, which was ablaze from the setting sun on the horizon far beyond the glass walls.
He shouldn’t have kissed her.
Or perhaps he shouldn’t have let her go.
It was impossible to decide.
He took a step back and produced his iPhone then snapped several shots of the magnet, though the forensic pathologist was in his way. He was no expert on magnets, but given its shape and size, he was reminded of chop shops, and the industrial magnets that were powerful enough to lift an automobile into the air as a crane maneuvered the vehicle onto a pile of scrap metal.
Kip Cartwright didn’t strike him as the kind of guy who rubbed shoulders with the shady types who ran illegal chop shops or questionable auto body joints that would have such equipment. In fact, none of the Cartwrights or Downeys appeared to have