The White Gold Score (A Daniel Faust Novella) Read Free Page B

housekeeper?”
    She shook her head. “She was transferred to another casino the next day. I’m not sure which one.”
    Sure
, I thought,
with a bundle of money to keep her mouth shut. Greenbriar tidied everything up, nice and neat, no cops and no press
.
    “You know what?” I said. “Give Mr. Greenbriar a call. I’d like to have a word with him.”
    I was waiting inside the penthouse when the doorknob rattled and he let himself in. I was polite enough to let him shut the door, right before I slammed him up against it.
    “What the fuck were you thinking?” I snapped. Keeping my arm barred across his chest and standing almost nose-to-nose with him.
    “What do you mean? H-hey, buddy, you seem upset.”
    I grabbed him, one hand on his shoulder and one on the scruff of his neck, and marched him into the bathroom. Bent him up against the hot tub and gave him a real close look at the hole in the plaster.
    “Recognize this? It’s the patch job where you covered up the second bullet. Know how I know that, asshole? Because I
felt
the other one. Your long-term guest made me relive his goddamn
death
last night.”
    “Hey, hey.” His open hands fluttered and he forced a smile. “Now, I can imagine that’s got you a little upset, but c’mon, buddy. Pal. Friend. I hired you to clear out a ghost. What difference does it make how he died?”
    I let go of him. He straightened up, shook out his sleeves, and dusted the lapel of his jacket.
    “What difference does it make?” I asked, barely able to believe he’d said that. “It’s the difference between a psychic imprint and a lost soul that’s out for justice. See, not only was the vic gunned down in his penthouse, you went ahead and covered up the murder. That makes for one very,
very
angry dead guy.”
    Greenbriar shrugged. “So? Can you get rid of it?”
    “Not easily. Entities like this, they stick around until they’re satisfied. Which means your best bet is to call Metro, fess up, and let them investigate.”
    “Ha ha—ooh, you’re not joking. No. No. Dan, c’mon. This isn’t the eighties. Vegas is a shiny happy family destination now, where everything is safe and fun and nobody gets shot in our penthouse suites, okay? Getting the cops involved is just not happening.”
    I threw up my hands. “Well, then enjoy your brand-new ghost. He’s gonna be here a while.”
    Greenbriar followed me to the door. He tugged an envelope from his inside breast pocket, opening it up and riffling his thumb across a stack of crisp green fifties.
    “Look, Dan, hold up. This is the two grand I promised you—”
    “Keep it.”
    I reached for the door handle, and he jumped in front of me.
    “What if,” he said, “what if we call this a retainer? Maybe, you know, you could investigate and find out who killed the guy, and figure out what it’s gonna take to make this little problem go away.”
    “Me?”
    “Sure! You’re a sorcerer, you know the streets, and I know you’ve been taking on contract work ever since you and Nicky Agnelli parted ways. So why not? You got something better to do today?”
    “I don’t think you get what I do,” I told him. “I sell vengeance for hire. I’m not some kind of…magic detective.”
    He arched a pencil-thin eyebrow at me.
    “When you do jobs for people, do you use magic?”
    “Well, yeah, but—”
    “And these jobs. Do they require investigation? Research? Perhaps looking for clues and assembling those clues in the correct order?”
    I shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s not the—”
    He shoved the envelope at me.
    “You’re a magic detective. Take my money.”
    He had me there. I snatched the envelope from his spindly fingers and shook my head.
    “Two hundred a day, plus expenses.
All
expenses.”
    Greenbriar gestured to the bathroom. “Just make this go away. Soon, please? My bosses are already breathing down my neck.”
    “I’ll get right on that, because your comfort is so very important to me. I need everything you’ve