Free Lemons 03 Stroke of Genius by Grant Fieldgrove Page B

sarcastic tone of voice, one that I was not too fond of even though I practically invented it.
    “Simple. By eliminating everyone else.”
    “Shit. That sounds boring.”
    “Oh yeah, baby, by the end of this shit you’ll be begging to watch The Tree of Life just for a little excitement.”
    “Never again!”
    I rewound the camera and took us to when Leslie first entered the hotel late the night before. She was staying at the Mayra with another woman; they were there on a getaway similar to our clients’. Her friend, however, apparently met a man at Caesar’s Palace that night and decided to take up residence with him for the remainder of the evening, resulting in Leslie taking the long walk back to this hotel alone.
    The video was put together rather nicely, I must say. The screen flickered as different cameras tracked her every movement throughout the entire casino floor, very rarely ever losing sight of her. She sat at a blackjack table, where apparently she had some pretty good luck. She stayed there for three hours, according to the time stamp on the video.
    Elise read my mind and wrote in her notebook, Possible Robbery Attempt. I glanced down at the paper and told her good work. She gave me a wink.
    After Leslie left the table, she cashed in her chips at the cashier window then went to the closest bar and sat down. The camera cut away from the blackjack table too soon for us to see if anyone got up right after her. I had memorized every single person who sat at the table, though, and would look for them throughout the course of that night.
    After she finished her drink at the bar she stood up, grabbed her purse and headed off screen. The video said it was 7:05am. Our boy had already gone up to his room and I never caught sight of him on any of Leslie’s videos. I told Elise and she scribbled down more notes.
    At 7:09am on Tuesday morning, Leslie made her way to the elevator, pushed the button and waited. At 7:10 she stepped on to the elevator. Just as the doors we’re closing, a rather large man, fat not muscular, and rather tall, came into the picture, waving his hand. Leslie reached her hand out to stop the doors from closing, allowing the man to step on. The man appears to give her his thanks and Leslie is seen giving him a polite smile and saying something back to him. Still 7:10 and the doors to the elevator close and the cameras never capture Leslie again. Couple hours later she is left for dead in a field.
    At least we had a time frame.
    My eyes had already begun to burn from staring at the screen for so long. Elise suggested we take a break, go back up to the room for a bit and relax. I agreed, even though I wasn’t looking forward to the elevator ride. Elise had an idea.
    We exited the surveillance room and made our way back out to the lobby, crossing the secretary’s desk and telling her we would be back shortly. She said there would always be someone here, as this was a 24 hour racket. We thanked her and made our way out into the land of hopelessness and desperation, the casino.
    Elise told me to follow her and we once again wove our way through crowds of idiots dropping their family’s Christmas money on a roll of the dice and entered a small souvenir store. Elise purchased a bottle of Southern Comfort.
    “Here is the solution to your elevator problem.” She removed the cap and handed me the bottle. “Take a shot. I’ll keep the bottle in my purse for all your elevator needs.”
    I did as I was instructed, though slightly against my will. I took two swigs. “This is stupid,” I said. “This is NOT going to work.”
    It worked.
    My head felt a little lighter when we got back to my room. I’ve been drunk before but never in public (last night doesn’t really count, as Elise was the sloppy drunk one, not me.) Fact was, I wasn’t really a big drinker at all. I’ve had a few vodka-Redbulls while staking out some joints from time to time, but nothing that would really intoxicate me. I needed