The Good Thief's Guide to Vegas: A Mystery by Chris Ewan

Author:Chris Ewan [Ewan, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Crime, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, International Mystery & Crime
ISBN: 9781429964470
Google: vdFekIvEt54C
Amazon: B006Z3354E
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2010-08-16T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

The watery theme of the Atlantis-Las Vegas was painfully apt, since the resort-casino had fallen into administration twice in the last five years, and gags about it ‘going under’ or ‘sinking without trace’ still lingered. If the casino’s latest owners had possessed the funds to remodel the place, I’m sure they would have done just that. But apparently they didn’t, and evidently they hadn’t, and the Enchanting Lost City Beneath the Waves (as the publicists would have you remember it) went on struggling to stay afloat, not helped by its position at the very end of the Strip, way beyond the comic book Manhattan skyline of New York-New York, the castle turrets of the Excalibur and the burnished exterior of the Mandalay Bay party casino.

Even from the outside, the Atlantis looked and felt like a downmarket option; inside, that impression wasn’t helped by the stench of chlorine from all the fountains and ponds, not to mention the giant water slides that weaved through the ceiling space above the casino floor.

There’s a theory I was beginning to subscribe to that says you can judge the success of a Vegas casino by the cocktail waitresses who work there. True enough, while the drinks at the Fifty-Fifty had been served by women who looked as though they modelled in their spare time, and Space Station One undoubtedly had its fair share of beauty pageant winners, the Atlantis was staffed by mere mortals, of the kind I would have felt comfortable talking to if it wasn’t for the outfits they were required to wear. Skimpy is an understatement – you’d see less flesh at a burlesque review.

I guess just before seven o’clock in the morning wasn’t the fairest time to gauge the success of the place, but from the looks of how empty the casino happened to be, I didn’t think it would be long before it went bust yet again. Not that the lack of people concerned me. After all, it made finding the theatre an awful lot simpler.

Alas, the theatre was closed, which I supposed was understandable, considering how few people would be likely to queue before breakfast to buy tickets for a water-themed circus review. The main doors to the Oasis Stage were roped off, the concession stand was in darkness, and the ticket counter was secured behind a metal grill. The lock on the grill was worth no more than thirty seconds of my time, but I wasn’t intending to pick it. I was far more interested in the framed show posters displayed on the walls surrounding me.

The posters were enlarged versions of the advertisement I’d seen on the roof of the taxi cab, and I was certain by now that I’d tracked down the two men I’d seen outside Josh’s room. It wasn’t simply that the trapeze artist and the clown looked like the men I’d spoken with, it was also that their roles in the show made complete sense to me. A trapeze artist would need exactly the

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