Page 17 of Spade

It was her turn to laugh. “Wrinkled shirt, loose tie, sports coat. Fuck, you might as well pin your badge to your breast pocket.”

“Jason Shaw.” I didn’t bother with the badge, because it always made things worse before it made them better. And she’d already figured it out.

She gestured with her chin. “Still want that tequila?”

“Not while I’m working.”

Selene gave a smile that flashed like a razor and vanished. “Everyone’s always working in this town. Have a seat and tell me what’s on your mind.”

I did, hands flat on the table, but kept my attention up. “Because there’s always some shit going on,” I said. “Never know when I might have to run.”

“From or to?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s Vegas after all. Gambling, prostitutes, drinking, drugs, serial killers.”

“Sounds like a brutal combo.”

“You’ve done well with this once-upon-a-time shithole.”

“I work my ass off,” she said. “For club and casino.” She leaned on the counter. “Which are you here for?”

The rest of the room was staging a little show for me. A guy in a faded Rattlers hoodie pretended to mop the same two feet of floor, but his eyes flicked every ten seconds to the back office door. A woman with prison biceps and a lip piercing was shuffling cards, not to play but just to make the click and snap of them into background noise that made you hurry your business. Somebody behind the bar, just a silhouette, kept rearranging bottles with the single-mindedness of a person paid not to listen but to hear.

Selene poured herself a two-finger whiskey from the bottle at her elbow. It was the good stuff, but she didn’t comment on that or drink it. She just looked at me over the rim of the glass, as if the drink was a camera and she was collecting evidence.

“So,” she said. “What do you want to ask, Detective Shaw?”

“Straight to it,” I said. “I like that in a woman.”

“This woman is unavailable.”

“Wasn’t asking her to be available. It was an observation.”

I put on my own smile—nicer than hers, but only because I had more practice. “I’m looking for someone. Name’s Spade. Works as your Sergeant at Arms, unless you’ve had a recent shuffle.” The club had its bylaws, mission statement, and list of officers online. They were hiding something by not hiding. At least that’s what detective work told me.

Selene’s hand stopped mid-sip. She set the glass down with a small, controlled click. “You know the name. And the title. That’s a good start.” She didn’t so much as glance over her shoulder, but I watched a small nod propagate through the staff in the room, and everyone got a little quieter.

“She around?” I asked. “Maybe in the back. Maybe watching us on a security camera.”

Selene drummed two fingers on the bar, then leaned back and finally took a drink. “Spade works odd hours. But maybe I can help if you tell me what this is about.”

“Thick as thieves,” I said. “I like that. Got each other’s backs.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, detective.” She was getting antsy. Her tone had changed.

The textbook answer would have been “an ongoing investigation.” The real answer was that I didn’t know whether to bring Spade in or bring her a drink. She’d been in the periphery of a half dozen unsolved murder cases, but the only consistent through line was her knack for being close enough to the action to get painted with the same brush, but never so close that I could put a case together. Someone like that either had a guardian angel or was a devil who liked to wear other people’s wings.

I tried a soft lead. “Spade’s name has come up on a few incident reports. Nothing major. Just some cases we’re working on. I was hoping to talk to her about her whereabouts last weekend.”

Selene smiled again, but it was smaller, meaner. “Spade works weekends. She was here, with the club. Friday through Sunday.”

I didn’t challenge her, not yet. “And she didn’t leave the premises at all?”

“Not unless you count a run-up to Boulder City with three witnesses and a stop for coffee at Dot’s.” She listed them like she’d been prepping for this. “You can check the security footage if you want, but it’s really boring unless you like watching people play poker until they owe the house their mortgage.”

“You have a damn good memory, Selene.”

“In my line of work, I have to.”