“Why would there be pasta in this hall?” He shifted the piece to his palm and held the flashlight over it. “But you’re right. That’s exactly what it is.”
He shook his head. “You know, one of Tony’s tricks is he throws a handful of those little pasta shells at the audience and turns them into confetti before they fall.”
“So you’re saying he might have pasta in his pockets?”
“He might.”
“But would whoever kidnapped your mom have pasta in their pockets? That seems kind of like a stretch. We know Tony couldn’t have done it himself. He has a perfect alibi in that he was on stage performing his own show at the same time.”
“Right.” Sin stared at the broken piece, then crouched again and looked around with his flashlight beam. There were two more pasta shells. “We would have seen these before. Or stepped on them the first time. They have to be new.”
“Whoever planted them had to be the same person who turned the lights off.” I sighed. “This combined with the same men’s cologne seems like Frank to me again. If his plan to break your parents’ contract worked, he’d also need to get rid of Tony to make room for them at the Crystal Palace. Framing him for your mom’s disappearance could do that.”
Sin nodded. “Except my dad never called the cops, which I’m sure Frank expected him to do. If he is the one behind this, it must be killing him that there’s no big investigation underway. He’d need that to make things work in his favor.”
I stood, which got Sin to his feet as well. “The note makes sense coming from Frank, too. Of course he wouldn’t hurt your mom. He needs her. She’s half of the act he’s desperate to have at his casino.”
Sin turned the piece of pasta over in his fingers. “It all fits. The cologne, the pasta, the letterhead…”
“We have to dig deeper into him. Figure out where he’d have taken her. Are you sure there was nothing on that list of properties that could work?”
“No, I’m not. At this point, we should probably check them all. We have nothing to lose.”
I couldn’t agree more. I also couldn’t stop myself from adding, “No stone unturned.”
He called his dad to fill him in, remind him about the note saying Lila would be home soon and to tell him we were going to check all of Frank’s properties anyway. Then we left the Oasis behind and started our search. We went to the house that was for sale first.
That trip took us half an hour outside of Vegas. And got us no further along in the search. It was exactly what we’d thought it would be. An empty house. There was no sign Lila had been there, but the countertop was littered with Realtor cards indicating they’d shown the house.
“There’s no way he’d think about keeping my mom here,” Sin said. “Not with as much traffic as this place is getting.”
“Okay, one down. What’s next?”
“He’s a part owner in the Rare Breed biker bar twenty minutes from here.” Sin looked up from his phone. “If my mom is there…”
“Hey, maybe there’s an upstairs apartment. Or he’s got an office there. Or even a storage closet with a lock. I know it’s a long shot but—”
“Yep,” Sin said. “We’re checking it out.”
He was in a better mood. Which made me happier. To be honest, if walking circles in the desert was the answer, I would have done that. Searching multiple properties was no big deal. I didn’t hold out a lot of hope we’d find anything useful, but really, we just needed one small thing to link Lila to Frank.
One. Thing. That was all. And Lila was a smart woman. She had to know we were looking for her. Had to know we’d need a clue.
Rare Breed was everything you might think a biker bar would be. Rows of chrome machines filled the front row of parking. Neon beer signs lit the windows, and a scantily clad woman on a Harley-Davidson adorned the bar’s sign. Loud music filtered out every time someone opened the door. And a little even when they didn’t.
I glanced at Sin as we parked. I should have brought my bracelet so I could blend in better. “You fit in there a lot better than I do.”
He snorted. “I don’t think so.”
“Honey, I have blue hair and elf ears. You’re in a black leather jacket with black jeans and black boots. Granted, from the neck up, you look more like male model than some dude who thinks showering once a week is good enough, but I still think you’d have a better chance in there than I would.”
Amusement lit his eyes. “Point taken. Good thing I didn’t shave today. I’m just going to show the bartenders a picture of my mom and ask if they’ve seen her. I’ll take a look around, too. You staying in the car then?”
“I wasn’t planning on it. I was going to check out the back of the place. Can’t hurt, right?”
“I guess not. Be careful.”
“I swear if anyone threatens me, they’ll be an ice cube before they can blink.”
“That’s my girl.” He leaned in and kissed me. “Meet you back here in ten minutes. If you find something, text me. Otherwise, I’m coming to look for you.”
“Same,” I said. “If you’re gone longer than ten minutes and I don’t get a text, I will put that whole bar in the deep freeze.”
He smiled. “See you in ten.”
We got out, and he headed for the front door while I casually went in the other direction and around the back of the property.
More bikes were parked along the side and in the rear parking lot. So were a few cars. Nothing fancy like what Frank might own. I couldn’t imagine how he’d come to be a partner in this place. Seemed like a weird financial direction, but what did I know about property in Vegas? Maybe the slots inside got a lot of play. Or maybe he’d won it from someone.
Or maybe…honestly, I had no idea, and I didn’t really care. Not since I’d spotted the storage shed at the rear of the property.
I stayed close to the wall and took a good look around. The bass beat of whatever was playing inside thumped through the walls. I was alone. And thankfully, it was dark. I was about to dart across the parking lot when a young guy with tattoos and a ponytail came out the back, hauling a trash bin filled with bottles.
He dumped them in the recycling, then took his sweet time lighting up a cigarette. I didn’t have time to wait around on his smoke break. I focused the tiniest bit of cold on the cigarette’s ember, putting it out.
He frowned and relit the smoke. I put it out again. Thankfully, he got frustrated, flicked the cigarette away and went back inside, muttering to himself about cheap smokes.
As soon as the door shut, I jogged over to the storage shed. It was corrugated metal and rusted in most places. There was an old pickup truck parked in front of it. The truck’s wheels were flat, and weeds sprouted from under the wipers.
A cursory inspection found the shed had only one door. It was locked. I wasn’t really looking forward to going inside because I had no idea what to expect. I tried to peek through the door’s one small, very dirty window made of safety glass, but between the wire running through the glass and the dirt caked on it, I couldn’t see a thing.
Time was ticking. I had no choice but to slip under the door.