Sin City Hunter

By Maddie Cochere

Susan is in Las Vegas for ten days of work and play. Fun turns to terror when a magic act goes awry and she witnesses a murder. Susan knows who committed the crime, and unfortunately for her, the killer knows that she knows. Her actions in Sin City ultimately put not only her own life on the line but that of Mick's as well.

A strange man who is always watching, an evil boss, a bad-boy hockey player, and plenty of laughs make Sin City Hunter, with its surprise ending, a fast-paced and fun read - perfect for easy-breezy reading.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maddie Cochere
• Release date: May 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476273020

Maddie Cochere

In the '80s, Maddie worked for a weight loss company by day and played racquetball by night. She used her experiences from weight loss centers and playing racquetball as inspiration for Susan Hunter in her Susan Hunter Mysteries.The family of Jo Ravens in the Two Sisters and a Journalist series resembles Maddie's family in many ways. Her eighty-five-year-old mother still laughs when a whoopee cushion makes a loud appearance at family gatherings.Maddie resides in Ohio with her husband and a spoiled beagle.

Book preview

Sin City Hunter

by Maddie Cochere

Copyright 2012 by Maddie Cochere

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions therof in any form whatsoever except as provided by US copyright Law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

Breezy Books

http://www.breezybooks.com/

Cover design by Gillian Soltis of Columbus, Ohio

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter One

Hey, beautiful, do you have any blue underwear in there?

I saw her first. Come on, sweetheart, give me your underwear.

How about a clip-on belly button ring? Do you have a belly button ring?

Three college students jostled each other as they stood in front of me and begged for items to complete their scavenger hunt lists. I had already handed over all my business cards, my hair scrunchies, a movie ticket stub, a cancelled stamp, and I had composed three poems.

I’m not giving you my underwear, and I don’t have a belly button ring - clip-on or otherwise. I couldn’t help giggling and continued to dig through my purse on my lap. What else do you need?

Two girls joined the three guys. The funky redhead with spiked hair and freckles scanned her list and said, I need something naughty. Do you have anything naughty in there?

I laughed. No, nothing naughty in here.

The pretty brunette with her long hair held back in a loose braid asked, How about a picture of a hunky guy?

Ooh, I said. I definitely have one of those. I pulled out my wallet and handed a picture of my fiancé, Mick, to her. The picture didn’t show his five-ten height, or his fabulous athlete’s body, but it did highlight his gorgeous hazel-green eyes, thick dark hair, and his more-than-pleasant features.

Wow, she said. Hunky is right. This would work for something naughty, too. Did this come with your wallet, or do you know him?

I held up my left hand and wiggled my fingers to show off my engagement ring. I couldn’t contain the huge smile as it spread across my face. I know him, I said with excitement. We’re getting married in June.

Mrs. Mick Raines flashed through my mind. I would no longer be Susan Hunter. I would be Susan Raines. I thought about my new name often, and it always made me smile.

The guys rushed off to find more items. The girls sat down for a minute to admire the ring. That is absolutely gorgeous, said the brunette, emphasizing each word as she spoke. The redhead turned my hand, causing the ring to sparkle in the bright overhead lighting.

I pulled another picture from my wallet and said, Here’s another hunky guy.

This one was of Darby, my best guyfriend and neighbor across the hall in my apartment building. Not quite five-eight, he had sandy-colored hair that he kept in a permanently tousled state. Tanned and lean, he had blue eyes with a mischievous twinkle in them. Darby was complete eye candy and looked as if he should be surfing off the coast of California rather than residing in Ohio.

The redhead snatched Darby’s picture for her list. Holy cow. Do you know this guy, too? If I give you my number, will you put him in touch with me?

I do know him, I said. He’s my neighbor at home, but he doesn’t play on our team. I smiled and gave her a wink.

Oh, boo, she said as she practically drooled over the picture.

Thanks for the help, the brunette said cheerfully. Both girls waved as they ran off to search for more items.

We were all currently stranded at O’Hare Airport in Chicago. Our non-stop flight from Cleveland to Las Vegas hit extreme turbulence thirty minutes into our flight, and we were quickly diverted to Chicago. I overheard a flight attendant comment about checking the airplane for structural damage.

It had to be one of the worst flights ever recorded that didn’t crash.

My best girlfriend and racquetball doubles partner, Samantha, had driven me to the Cleveland Airport earlier in the day. My flight was at ten o’clock, and with the time difference, I was scheduled to land in Las Vegas at eleven thirty.

Traffic had held us up more than expected, and I found myself rushing to get to the gate in time. I made my way onto the plane and took my seat near the front of the cabin.

Most of the college students had boarded after I did and headed for their seats at the back of the plane. They were followed by members of a professional hockey team. One of the hockey players plopped into the seat beside me and said with a wide grin, I want to sit next to you. A light scar across his cheek gave him a dangerous and sexy aura on top of his good looks. I was sure the flight would be entertaining with him beside me.

After learning his name was Dell Grady, and striking up a pleasant conversation with him, an elderly man with bushy eyebrows tapped him on the shoulder.

You’re in my seat, he grumbled with a scowl on his face.

Dell made a pout face. Sorry, Susan. Looks like I have to move. Maybe I’ll see you on the ground in Vegas. We’ll be in town for a few days. He stepped out and moved back the aisle.

The old man dropped into his seat beside me and grumbled under his breath, People got no respect takin’ other people’s seats. He began fidgeting and continued to grumble under his breath. Seats too small. Cramped. Where’s a stewardess? Pillows? He craned his neck to look around. Now he was mumbling swear words.

I was sitting next to an honest-to-goodness curmudgeon! I had never met one before and fought to suppress a giggle.

A small man with wire frame glasses was the last person to board. He sat in the aisle seat next to the curmudgeon, pulled out his cell phone, and began alternating between talking and texting. Old cranky pants between us started mumbling again, Doggone gadgets. Disturbing people. No common sense.

A flight attendant proceeded to make announcements over the intercom, finishing with, Your seat cushions can be used as a flotation device in case of an emergency crash landing over Lake Mead. It sounded as though everyone but the curmudgeon laughed. He chose to utter more swear words.

Once we were in flight, there was a final settling down of passengers. Books and magazines were opened; tablets and hand-held video games came out. The thin man on the aisle opened his laptop.

The curmudgeon took off his shoes.

It only took a few seconds for his foot odor to assault my nose. It was foul and took my breath away. The man next to him made his way to the lavatory. I rummaged through my purse, spritzed a bit of perfume onto a tissue, and held it to my nose in an attempt to combat the odor.

I turned to look out the window. The day was overcast, and snow was expected before evening. By the time the bad weather came in, I hoped to be enjoying sunshine in Las Vegas, where it had been unseasonably warm for over a week now. Other than the curmudgeon’s feet, and a little noise and singing from the college students at the back of the plane, it appeared we were going to have a smooth flight.

And it was … until we hit the turbulence.

I’d never experienced anything like it ever. The captain came over the intercom, announced the weather situation, and told everyone including the flight attendants to take their seats and buckle up for a bumpy ride.

The first several bumps were bad enough, but then it was as though the plane belly-flopped straight down hundreds, if not thousands, of feet in the sky. The curmudgeon’s shoes flew up, hit the ceiling, and came down - one on a woman seated in front of us, the other on his own shoulder. He began swearing again. People weren’t screaming, but the sounds of concern and fear were growing louder by the second.

The nose of the plane dipped up and down while the fuselage rolled back and forth. The movement was barf bag worthy. I tried to stay calm, but I was having serious thoughts the plane was going to crash. I had a death-grip on the armrest. The rolling was followed by a few more hard bounces that caused my body to strain against the safety belt. Then, just like that, it was over. The ride was smooth again, and it was quiet in the cabin.

The curmudgeon farted.

Now here we were, stranded at O’Hare.

A little rowdy, but respectful, the college kids were part of a glee club group and seemed like a great bunch. They were still on winter break and planning several days of gambling and partying in downtown Las Vegas before getting back to the grind at school. The scavenger hunt was taking them all over the airport, and it had been fun to help them with their items.

One of the students commented that the hockey players were in a bar in Terminal 3. Rather than wait for our flight to be rescheduled, a few passengers made other arrangements and left the flight altogether. The turbulence may have had something to do with their decision. The rest of us were waiting for information at our gate in Terminal 1. I didn’t want to miss the flight and had opted to stay near the boarding location.

We were originally told we would only have a short delay while the airplane was inspected, but we were now facing at least a two-hour layover while another airplane was serviced and scheduled into the flight pattern.

I was thirsty and decided to run to the snack area for a soft drink. I reached down to pick up the case I had tucked under my chair. Because I was going to be in Las Vegas for ten days, I had checked two large suitcases into baggage claim. The only luggage I carried onto the airplane was a small vintage cosmetics case my hippie Aunt Charlotte on my father’s side had given to me many years ago. It was pink, and not only super cute, but it was the perfect size for carrying all my make-up and a change of clothing.

The case wasn’t under the chair. I searched the immediate area and realized it was truly missing. I checked the entire area around me. I asked a few people if they had seen it, but no one had other than when it was tucked under my chair. I began walking briskly throughout the airport, trying to spot the bright pink case.

It took a while, but I finally found it on the K Concourse of Terminal 3. It was nestled up against an ugly brown carry-on bag, and it stuck out like a sore thumb. The bag was at the feet of an elderly woman who was trying to eat a sandwich with one hand while texting with the other. I couldn’t believe she had the gall to steal my case. I marched up to her, snatched the case, made an angry grrr noise, and stomped off. She didn’t protest or attempt to follow me.

I wasn’t five feet down the concourse when all the hockey players poured out of a bar. One of the guys yelled to me as he passed by, Our flight’s been called. They’re boarding right now.

Crap! We were a long way from the gate, and I was wearing a new pair of boots with four-inch heels. They weren’t broken in yet, and there was no way I could flat-out run in them.

Dell was coming up fast and saw the distressed look on my face. He grabbed my case and purse and handed them off to one of the other hockey players. He flashed a big grin, ducked down, and said, Hop on. I’ll give you a ride.

He didn’t have to tell me twice. At approximately six-two, he had plenty of room for my slim five-seven frame. I glommed onto his back. With my arms around his neck, he held me with his arms under my knees, and we were off. There was some embarrassment as I realized his running was jostling me against his back, but I swallowed my pride and went with it. I saw people holding up cell phone cameras as we all flew by, and I had a terrible thought of being on the internet later in the day.

By the time we reached the gate, all the guys were laughing. How often do you get to run at top speed through an airport? Dell set me down and collected my case and purse for me.

Thanks, Susan, he said. That was fun.

I tried to straighten myself out. My boots and jeans were fine, but my sweater had ridden up and was slightly twisted. I appreciated the ride, I told him with a giggle. I would have never made it on time on my own.

We made our way onto the airplane.

We’re all staying at the Bellagio, Dell said. If you get bored some evening, give me a call. I’ll get a ticket for you to a hockey game, or we’ll go out on the town if I’m not playing.

I’ll do that, I said with a smile as I slipped into my seat.

It was a huge relief when I realized the curmudgeon wouldn’t be boarding again. The empty seat beside me made for a comfortable flight. We eluded the winter storm heading into the Midwest, and the rest of the flight into McCarran Airport in Las Vegas was uneventful.

Chapter Two

By the time I had settled into my room at the MGM Grand Hotel, it was four o’clock in the afternoon.

The room was a standard hotel room with two queen beds. The bathroom, however, was larger than most, and I especially appreciated the large mirrors. The rooms on this floor had recently been remodeled, and everything was new and comfortable.

It had taken about half an hour to unpack and put my things where I wanted them for the week. I glanced at my racquetball gear in the corner of the room. Betsy Ann Tucker, the Human Resources Director for Slimmers Weight Loss, had mentioned there was a group of employees who played racquetball once a week. She encouraged me to bring my equipment, and I was looking forward to playing this week.

I propped myself up with pillows on the bed and pulled a pen and pad of paper from my briefcase. I wanted to make notes and map out an itinerary for the upcoming week. I still enjoyed making lists the old-fashioned way. If I came up with any ideas for work, I’d enter them into my laptop later.

Today was Friday and a travel day for me. I wasn’t due at the Slimmers corporate offices until Tuesday morning at ten o’clock. I was a manager in one of the company’s weight loss centers back home in Carbide City, Ohio, and had recently accepted a position as a division manager. I would be working out of the corporate offices in Las Vegas for four days to learn about my new job duties and meet some of the employees.

I had come out a few days early to relax and have some fun. My parents were flying in tomorrow afternoon from Dallas and would be here for the week as well. And if everything in the universe was perfect this week, Mick would be flying in Friday night to spend the weekend and meet my parents.

Mick. Just thinking about him made a tingle run through my body. I admired the one-and-a-half carat ring on my finger for the thousandth time and could barely believe we’d be married in six months. Our date was