“While I’m there, you want me to lay down a bet for you at the craps table?”
“I never gamble, Reuben.”
“How come?”
“One, I don’t have any money, and two, I hate to lose.”
CHAPTER 21
THE NEXT MORNING Bagger met with Joe, from the PI firm. The man was trim, with calm gray eyes. Though soft-spoken, Joe was not intimidated in the least by the casino king. It was one of the things Bagger loved about him. He sat down across from Bagger and opened a file.
“We got some quick results on this one, Mr. Bagger.” He scanned the pages and then looked up. “I’ve got a written report for you, but let me just give you the essentials.” He handed a photo across. “We had an associate of ours in Vegas check out the wedding chapel where Conroy and DeHaven were married. It’s a typical mom-and-pop; the same couple run it today, in fact. After a little financial encouragement they let us take a peek at their records, and that’s where we got a copy of that photo. Apparently they take pictures of all the people they marry and put them up on the wall. I’m assuming from the look on your face, Mr. Bagger, that that’s our girl.”
Bagger was smiling and nodding as he stared down at a photo of a much younger Annabelle Conroy and her brand-new husband, Jonathan DeHaven. “That’s my little friend. Good work, Joe. What else you got?”
“Well, this has the potential to make our job easier. I’m just not sure yet.”
Bagger looked up from the photo. “What has the potential?”
In answer, Joe handed Bagger a newspaper clipping. “The name DeHaven rang a bell for me, but I didn’t know why at the time. Then I did some digging. And bingo!”
“He was murdered!” Bagger exclaimed, reading the headline.
“Very recently. Found in some vault at the Library of Congress in D.C. It was all tied into some spy ring going down in Washington.”
“Are we sure it’s the same DeHaven?”
Joe handed Bagger another photo of DeHaven from a newspaper article detailing his death. “You can see it’s the same guy, only older.”
“So Annabelle’s hubby was a spy and got whacked?”
“Her ex-husband. We also found out that the marriage was annulled a year later.”
“Annulled? Doesn’t that mean they didn’t have sex or something? For a whole freaking year?” Bagger stared down at Annabelle’s wedding picture. The lady was a stunner. Bagger of course hated the woman for ripping him off, but how in God’s name did her husband keep from jumping her the minute the “I do’s” were said? “Was this DeHaven guy secretly gay or something?”
“I don’t know the details of why the annulment took place, but it did and was made a matter of record in Washington, D.C., where the couple presumably came back to live. And DeHaven wasn’t part of the spy ring. Details are still coming out and some of it’s being buried because of national security interests, but it looks like he was an innocent guy who got killed because he stumbled onto something he shouldn’t have.”
A pensive Bagger sat back. Annabelle had conned him into thinking she was with CIA and that the money he had given her was a way for the government to launder cash overseas. But what if she really was with CIA? What if it had been the government that had screwed him? You couldn’t sue the government. You couldn’t kill Uncle Sam.
He stared across at Joe. “Good work, Joe. Keep digging and see what you come up with.”
Joe rose. “Already on it, Mr. Bagger.”
After Joe left, Bagger stared down at the picture of the youthful Annabelle. She looked happy although her new hubby looked like, well, like a librarian.
Bagger rose and looked out the window, onto his empire that occupied nearly an entire block on the Boardwalk. Making up his mind, he picked up his phone and called his chief of security. “Warm up the jet, we’re heading out.”
“Where to, Mr. Bagger?”
“My favorite city. Washington, D.C.”
CHAPTER 22
THE NEXT MORNING, while Reuben and Milton drove to Atlantic City, Harry Finn was also busy. He and two team members were surveying a parcel of land near the United States Capitol. Their uniforms were perfect, their equipment spot-on. Most importantly, they exuded the confident air of people who had every right to be where they were. When two Capitol police officers approached them, Finn calmly pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and showed the pair his official-looking orders.
STONE PUNCHED IN Annabelle’s phone number. Four rings went by and he assumed she wasn’t going to answer when her voice said, “Hello?”
“Where are you?” he said.
“Oliver, I left a note.”
“The note is bullshit. Where are you?”
“I don’t want you involved in this, so just forget me.”