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balance, if not my pride, I stepped away from him and smoothed my dress. “That’s just a game Mr. Fujikara and I play.”
    “And you played him pretty well.” Dane smirked.
    “I’ve had a lot of practice.” I grabbed his elbow and drew him into the crowd and away from the bar. I looked back at Mr. Fujikara and his friends. They were laughing. Mr. Fujikara caught my eye and raised his glass in a silent toast. I smiled and nodded in return. “I helped him be a big man in front of his friends. What’s so bad about that?” Realizing I still had hold of Dane’s arm, I let go and stepped back.
    “If word of your personal touch gets out, we may have a rash of whales with fender benders.”
    “Not likely. Now, how do we go about finding a missing helicopter?”
    “Want to go for a ride?” Dane asked.
    “Don’t tell me you found it already?” Just thinking about getting my hands around Willie’s neck made me salivate
    “Unfortunately, no. But my contact arranged for us to view the videotapes of tonight’s air traffic at the control tower at McCarran. Maybe we can figure out where the pilot went.”
    “I’m in, but I’ve got to do a couple of things first. Can we meet out front in a half an hour?”
    “You got it.”
    I watched Dane walk away. When he was out of earshot, I keyed my Nextel. “Jer, what do you have on the megamillions lady?”
    “Mrs. Paisley? The tapes and machine are in agreement—she only played two quarters.”
    “What did she win?”
    “Three hundred and sixty-five thousand.”
    Not a bad payday, but nowhere near the eighty-five million she would have won had she played six quarters. And I was going to be the bearer of the bad news. On nights like this, being the messenger not only put me in the line of fire but also put me in a bad mood.
    “You want me to tell her?” Jerry asked.
    “You’re a sweetheart, but this is what I get paid for.” Reluctantly, I headed for the elevators.
    Soon I was standing in front of the gilded double doors of the Sodom and Gomorrah suite. One of our best suites, it encompassed half of the top floor of the northwest wing. With its three bedrooms, great room with a bar, dining room for private dinners, and a large, Roman-inspired bath with a hot tub for you and ten of your closest friends, the suite was a favorite with the Hollywood and professional athlete crowds. Decorated in an over-the-top Egyptian motif, with gold columns, huge potted palms and clouds painted on the ceiling, the suite reminded me of the set of an old Egyptian horror movie. I had no idea how anyone could sleep in there—not that anyone spent much time sleeping in Vegas. In my opinion, the view was the best part, looking straight up the Strip.
    I
so
didn’t want to do this. The Big Boss would probably fire me if he knew how badly I wanted to give away eighty-five million dollars. I forced myself to pull the rope beside the door. Deep inside, a bell chimed. I stepped back half expecting a tall, scantily dressed Nubian to appear at my summons.
    Instead, the lady who opened the door couldn’t have been even a fraction over five feet tall. And she was most definitely not Nubian; she was more like middle North American. Almost as wide as she was tall, she sported a cap of graying curls and the best set of dimples I’d seen in quite a while. Wrapped in one of the Babylon’s terry-cloth robes, which looked to be about three sizes too large, sleeves rolled up, and hem dragging the ground, her feet bare and her eyes bright, the little lady flashed a big smile.
    “Mrs. Paisley?” I asked.
    “For heaven’s sake, call me Velma. Mrs. Paisley is, or was, mymother-in-law.” She stepped back, opening the door wider and motioning me inside. “You must have drawn the short straw.”
    “I’m Lucky O’Toole, and I’m in charge of customer relations here at the Babylon. My job entails a lot of short straws.”
    “It can’t be much fun coming to tell me I didn’t win the eighty-five