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  “How do you think I feel?” Bubbles asked.

  Pete looked at her with steel in his eyes. He grabbed her arm tightly. “How can we make it work? What can we do to make this work?”

  Bubbles raised her arm so he’d let go of her and shrugged. “I don’t know.” All of a sudden she felt uneasy. All of a sudden she realized that he might not be joking about James. He had a crazy look on his face. And to think his agent boasted that he was the perfect all-American dad. A chill ran through her. “We should pay the check,” she suggested.

  “Allow me.”

  They drove back into town in silence. Pilot Pete stared straight ahead. Bubbles was sure he didn’t blink once. When they got to the hotel, Bubbles hurried to her room. She called her boyfriend. “Please be there,” she prayed aloud. But he didn’t answer. “You’re not going to believe this,” she cried hysterically when his voice mail picked up. “Pilot Pete was talking about murdering James. And I wouldn’t put it past him! Call me back! As soon as you can!”

  16

  V ictor rode to the hotel with Regan and Danny. He wanted a chance to talk to Danny without interruption.

  Regan sat in the backseat.

  “Boss, I got bad news.”

  “Now what?”

  “On my own initiative I contacted the three backup couples for the show—to see if they might be able to step in, you know, like Miss America’s runner-up. ‘If you know any reason she can’t complete her reign, blah blah blah.’ ”

  “What’s the bad news, Victor?” Danny asked.

  “It turns out that none of them want to do it.”

  “What? I thought they were all dying to be on our show.”

  “Not now, thanks to that website. They know they’ll be scrutinized.”

  “They all have something to hide?” Danny asked, his voice squeaking.

  “I told you, everybody’s got something to hide.” Victor turned around and smiled at Regan. “Even you. I bet you’ve got a secret.”

  “I’ve never been arrested,” Regan said matter-of-factly.

  Victor laughed. “That’s good. Being on a reality show is like running for office. Someone’ll find out all your vices. It’s amazing the way these shows have captured America’s imagination.”

  “So what we’re saying here,” Danny realized, “is that we’re stuck with these couples no matter what they’ve done. Whether they’re married or not. Whether they’re criminals or not. Whether…”

  “Boss, it’s not our fault if they lied. We just have to put on a show that’s entertaining. It’s a one shot deal. If Roscoe likes us, our next show will be about something else. Look at it this way—if we find out after the fact that the couple that wins is not really married, then Roscoe doesn’t have to pay the million bucks prize money. Who knows? It might provide more publicity for his station.”

  If Roscoe’s paying the million bucks himself, Regan thought, he must have money to burn.

  “Well we don’t have a show without these couples,” Danny concluded. “So we’ve got to work with them.”

  Victor nodded. “Unlike the website, we’ve got to keep the lid on any problems. As they say, ‘The show must go on.’ ”

  Regan leaned forward. “Danny, what about the background checks I was going to look into for you? When can you get me more information?”

  Victor turned to her. “I wouldn’t go asking them too many questions because any one of the contestants might get cold feet and bail out. Then we’re stuck. After all, they were just minding their own business when Roscoe’s people intruded in their lives. You know what I mean, Regan?”

  “Roscoe cast the sitcom, and he provided us with a choice of six couples. The rest was up to us. We interviewed them to see which couples would be most interesting,” Danny added.

  “Interesting you got,” Regan noted. “But why would he give you a choice of contestants? If he cast the sitcom, you’d think he would want to control this show as well.”

  Victor shrugged. “Who knows with him?”

  Regan sat back. Something tells me that Roscoe is the one who could be up to no good, she thought. But he was providing a lot of people with work, and that was good. She looked out the window. It was nearly five-thirty, and the lights of Vegas were coming on. The night was beginning.

  When Danny pulled into the parking lot of the Fuzzy Dice Hotel, one of the young production assistants came running out to the car. “Elsa just won $412,000 at a slot machine! She says she’s outta here!”

  Oh, my God, what next? Regan wondered.

  Danny threw the car into park and dashed inside.

  Regan and Victor hurried after him. Regan couldn’t believe her eyes. Little Elsa was rolling around on the floor, in a catfight with another woman. Aunt Agony and Uncle Heartburn were trying to break them up.

  And Sam was capturing it all on tape.

  17

  U ncle Heartburn’s chili lived up to its name.

  “Wow,” Shep exclaimed as he scraped the bottom of the bowl with his spoon. “This stuff will wake you up.”

  But Maddy didn’t need any chili to come alive. Ever since the waitress asked her to deliver Aunt Agony’s mail, she had been electrified. She downed only two mouthfuls, and it almost sent her over the edge. Maddy could barely contain herself. The minute Shep put down his spoon, she stood up. “Shep, dear, we’d better get moving.”

  “Where’s the fire?” he asked rhetorically as he drained his glass of Coke.

  The waitress appeared from the back room, dragging a large cloth sack. It was marked U.S. MAIL—AUNT AGONY. “Here it is,” she announced. “A big pile of cares and woes. All packed up and ready to go.”

  Shep raised his eyebrows. “That’s a lot of agony.”

  “I don’t know how she does it,” the waitress replied, “but she reads every single one of them. Me, I’d get depressed.”

  Maddy tried to pick up the bag, but Shep stopped her. “That’s too heavy, dear. I’ll carry it.”

  They paid the check, said their good-byes, and stepped out into the late-day sunshine. The dog was asleep in his basket next to the porch and didn’t even flinch when the screen door slammed behind them.

  “Why don’t you put the sack in the backseat?” Maddy suggested.

  “Don’t you think it would be easier to just stick it in the trunk?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.”

  Shep opened the back door of the car, placed the bag on the floor, and got into the driver’s seat. Maddy got into the passenger seat and turned to wave at the waitress who had stepped out onto the porch. Shep started up the car, pulled out slowly onto the lonely two-lane road, and off they went. As soon as the restaurant was out of sight, Maddy climbed into the backseat.

  “What are you doing?” Shep asked in dismay as her foot grazed his shoulder.

  “Just drive, honey.” Maddy pulled her body into a sitting position. She reached down for the thermos of hot water she kept in a container next to the cooler on the floor of the car. Maddy liked to make tea on their road trips. She unscrewed the thermos lid, and little circles of steam rose from the container. “That’ll do just fine,” she purred. “Just fine.” She closed the thermos and then practically dove into Aunt Agony’s sack.

  “It’s a federal offense to tamper with other people’s mail,” Shep cautioned from the front seat.

  “This isn’t tampering. Like I said before, I just have a healthy interest in other people’s lives.”

  Shep shook his head and reached to turn on the radio. “I’ll be sure to visit you in jail.”

  18

  “T hat was my slot machine!” the stocky disheveled woman on the ground with Elsa shrieked. If someone had told Regan the woman was a lady wrestler, she wouldn’t have been surprised. Elsa’s opponent was of an indeterminate age and had broad shoulders, long bleached blond hair, thick black eyeliner, and enough pancake makeup to sink a ship.

  Aunt Agony and Uncle Heartburn offered advice about people needing to ta
lk out their problems as the two women rolled around the floor beneath the one-armed bandits.

  “Look out!” Regan yelled with authority. Aunt Agony and Uncle Heartburn quickly moved out of the way as Regan leaned down and got a grip on Elsa. Danny grabbed the lady wrestler, moved her away from Elsa, and held her in an armlock.

  “What happened?” Danny demanded.

  “I won fair and square,” Elsa cried. “We got back from the studio, and I decided to throw a couple of quarters in one of the slot machines. I win, and this broad comes out of the ladies’ room and goes nuts!”

  “I was using that machine for the last three hours. It’s my favorite. I only left it to go to the bathroom. I knew I should have peed before I left the house!” Her voice cracked, and she started to cry. “I really need the money,” she wailed. “I really need it.” Her ample chest started to heave up and down as she sobbed uncontrollably.

  Elsa inspires a lot of tears, Regan thought.

  The manager of the hotel came over and put his arm around the large woman. “I’m sorry. Lady Luck wasn’t with you today. But, you know, this is Vegas.”

  The woman sobbed even more loudly.

  Regan noticed that not only was Sam recording the proceedings, but behind the desk, the young receptionist with all the dice jewelry had her video camera going as well. Do they plan to use this in some sort of promotion for the hotel? Regan wondered.

  “Elsa, can we go upstairs and talk?” Danny asked quietly.

  “I want to tell Barney that I won.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He went to the room to rest. His arm hurts.”

  “Are you all right?” Aunt Agony asked Elsa with concern. “It’s a shame that such a joyous occasion as winning big money has to be spoiled by jealousy.”

  Spoiled by jealousy, Regan thought. That woman could have killed Elsa. And now the manager was escorting her outside.

  “I’m fine,” Elsa assured everyone. “It feels so good to win. It feels so good to know that Barney and I can go out and have a great time spending this money as a couple.”

  Uncle Heartburn nodded approvingly.

  We’re back in the game, Regan thought. Flush from her victory, Elsa is concentrating on the next prize. Even bigger money. The bonus round.

  One million dollars.

  Clearly, Danny has nothing to worry about. Elsa isn’t going to leave. She came to her senses and realized that if she puts in a few more days, it just might be worth it.

  “Danny,” Regan said quietly. “I’m going to go upstairs and get freshened up. How about if I stop by your room at about quarter to seven? There are a couple of things I want to talk to you about in private.”

  “No problem, Regan. I have the suite at the opposite end of the hall from you.”

  “Great. See you in a little while.” Regan headed for the staircase, the contestant files under her arm. She wanted to take a quick look at them and then call Jack. Everything had happened so fast. It was hard to believe she had started the day in her office in Los Angeles.

  She laughed to herself. If the next four days are like today, I’ll be loony by Friday night. Jack will have to restore my sanity.

  Regan started to take the steps two at a time. She had less than an hour before the next gathering, and she could only imagine what tonight might bring.

  19

  R oscoe had summoned Erene and Leo to a meeting in the backyard of his mansion. There was a gazebo at the end of the property, which had probably been used for all sorts of illegal activities by the previous owners. Roscoe liked to have a drink in the fresh air when the sun was setting. The sky looked so pretty as it changed from one color to another. Tonight it was streaked with gold. At this hour Roscoe often went for a balloon ride.

  “That whistle blowing really got them, didn’t it?” Roscoe asked as he took a sip of his fine single malt scotch.

  Erene leaned forward. “It was wonderful. Studies show that when people are forced to work under pressure, they often become more creative. Now both ‘teams’ realize they can’t waste a minute when they’re on the grounds of Hot Air Cable.”

  “Bubbles looked as if she was going to split a gut,” Leo offered. “As it is, she’s having trouble with a couple of those actors.”

  Roscoe laughed and slapped the side of the gazebo with his riding crop. “It’s all so marvelous—”

  “But Roscoe,” Erene interrupted. “There are some issues we must address.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He liked to call her ma’am. It sounded so dopey for him to call her that that it made him laugh.

  “There’s something sinister going on at the reality show that we have nothing to do with.”

  “The case of the slippery floor.”

  “Yes.”

  “We could be sued if someone gets hurt.”

  “Who greased the floor?” Roscoe asked.

  “We don’t know. The hidden camera covering that area of the studio was broken.”

  “Is it fixed?”

  “They’re working on it now.”

  “So there’s someone who’s causing a problem at Love Above Sea Level, and we don’t know who it is.”

  “Correct,” Erene answered.

  Roscoe banged the table. “Not acceptable. Leo, are you asleep?”

  “No, sir. I’m doing some thinking.”

  “You should have done that on the way over here.”

  “Yes, sir. But I think you’ll enjoy my latest thought.”

  “Spit it out.”

  “To create more drama, if you will, I was thinking that we should have a dinner party for both groups in your lovely home here tomorrow night.”

  Roscoe’s eyes widened. “Both teams are out to get each other!”

  “Wouldn’t it make for an interesting evening? We can really check everyone out, then compare notes. And, Roscoe, you can give one of your wonderful inspirational speeches. After all, we can’t let someone ruin Love Above Sea Level now, can we?”

  Roscoe started to laugh. “Let’s have a barbecue,” he said enthusiastically.

  Kitty emerged from the house and hurried to the gazebo. “I knew her name sounded familiar!”

  “What are you talking about, sweetie pie?” Roscoe asked.

  “Regan Reilly.”

  Roscoe explained to the others: “Danny has a friend with him who supposedly wants to produce a reality show.”

  Kitty held up one of Nora Regan Reilly’s books. “I just got this in the mail from my book club. I decided to try reading suspense even though I’m kind of a scaredy-cat.” She opened the book to the acknowledgments page. “Look! ‘I want to thank my daughter, private investigator Regan Reilly, who was so helpful…’ ”

  “She’s a private investigator!” Roscoe cried. “We don’t need her nosying around.”

  “We certainly don’t,” Erene agreed. “Studies show that if—”

  “Forget the studies!” Roscoe ordered. “She could ruin everything for us!”

  Leo shook his head and pursed his lips. “Let’s have that party tomorrow night, boss. We can keep an eye on her—and everybody else for that matter.”

  Undeterred, Erene pointed her index finger in the air. “There was a survey that said people who dine together are much more likely to—”

  “Call the caterer!” Roscoe interrupted. He was getting sick of her surveys and studies. Next thing you know, she’d be pulling out graphs and charts. Roscoe wanted to have fun and get a good show that would put Hot Air Cable on the map. He didn’t care about statistics. “We’ll grill hot dogs and hamburgers and marshmallows. Let’s set up a campfire in the backyard here. Just like Survivor!”

  Leo smiled smugly. He knew it would be an interesting party.

  20

  H oney spent the day getting beautified. She was waxed, tinted, highlighted, polished, exfoliated, and massaged. I need it, she rationalized. When I run into Danny, and I will run into him, I don’t want to have one chipped nail, one hair out of place, or one pie
ce of dead skin on my body. She returned home exhausted, turned on the six o’clock news, and heard the anchor announce that they had a breaking story.

  “Reality show contestant ends up in a tussle with fellow gambler at the Fuzzy Dice Hotel,” he reported excitedly.

  Honey watched in pain as Danny dove right in to break up the fight. Her heart just about broke. Danny was so strong, so fair, so good to people. She watched as the large woman with the bad dye job screamed that she needed the money. Honey felt sorry for her. What she really needs is the name of a good hairdresser. No woman should go around looking like that.

  That’s it! Honey realized. I will show Danny what a good, caring person I am. I will go to the aid of people in need. I will find people on the street who desperately need makeovers. God knows there are enough of them walking around Las Vegas. Help them with their self-esteem. Honey was elated about the limitless possibilities of becoming a twenty-first-century Florence Nightingale. But her spirits sank quickly.

  In practical terms, she thought, how will this work? And how will Danny learn about all my good deeds?

  Take action now, she thought. She pulled the Las Vegas phone book out from under her couch and looked up the number of the Fuzzy Dice Hotel. She said the number aloud, reached for the phone and dialed.

  “Pauly’s Pawn Shop,” a male voice answered gruffly.

  “This isn’t the Fuzzy Dice Hotel?” Honey asked anxiously.

  “Nope.” Click.

  Honey picked up the phone book again. “I knew I should have written it down,” she said to herself as she looked up the number again, repeated it twice, and redialed.

  “Fuzzy Dice Hotel.”

  “Yes, hello. I was just watching television and saw the little skirmish in your lobby there—”

  “We had a big winner!” a young woman said proudly.

  “My congratulations to her. I understand she’s one of the reality show contestants.”

  “Yes. The whole gang is staying here for the week. Lots of excitement. We have a couple of rooms left. Do you want to make a reservation?”