The Vegas Victim

"What a waste," sighed River, as she glanced down at the woman lying on the floor. She couldn't have been more than mid-thirties, but her life had already ended. Tenderly, she knelt beside the body and brushed the short blonde hair away from the tired face.

A deep voice interrupted her thoughts. "Her name's Kathy Carey, according to her driving license. She came here with a friend, who said she was playing the tables for most of the evening. She won a bit but mainly made heavy losses, and ended up borrowing quite a lot from a loan shark. She lost everything in a few hours, gave her friend the slip, and before you know it..."

John mimed putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger. River shuddered.

"So, suicide, then?" Carlton commented. He was sitting on the bench designed for the pathologist and swinging his legs back and forth.

"Hmm," said John, noncommittally. Carlton's eyes met River's over the body, and they both smiled.

"Not a suicide?" they said in unison.

John leaned back. "I didn't say that," he began. "It's just... well. Something doesn't add up." He leaned forward again and pointed to the gun that was clutched in the dead woman's hand. "This gun is held in the right hand... but the bullet wound is on the left side of the forehead."

"So it was murder?" Carlton breathed.

John gave a slow nod. "Don't quote me on it. Suicide is still possible. Only... a bit less likely."

Carlton's face cracked into a wide grin. "Excellent. Let's get started."

The pair found it easy to track down Kathy's friend Freya, who was sitting in a corner of the garden sniffling, staring at her friend's body. She had a scarf tightly wrapped around her naked arms, which had raised goosebumps from the cold.

"I can't believe it," she stammered. "Poor Kathy."

"You can help her by telling us as much as you can about the evening," River said kindly.

"We arrived at about half eight. We had a couple of drinks and then played blackjack for a while. Kathy and I did okay at first, but then I wanted to stop and she wanted to continue. She kept on playing - blackjack, roulette, the slot machines, everything - and kept on losing. Soon she was broke, and borrowing everything I had too. I tried to persuade her to come home, I'd pay for her taxi and everything. But she got chatting with a guy who offered to lend her some money. He looked pretty serious - I tried to tell her not to - but she was convinced she'd win it back straight away. When she didn't... she started crying and getting panicky. She said she was going to the bathroom, but - she must have come out here." Freya began to cry again.

"When you say 'we'..." began Carlton.

"Me, Kathy, and Ben, her boyfriend," said Freya. "Ben's gone in to the bar."

Ben didn't have much to say other than corroborating Freya's story. "I guess Kathy just couldn't take losing so much," he muttered, biting his lip to stop the grief showing on his face. He swirled his cocktail glass once before draining the contents and placing it beside the three empty glasses that stood already on the bar. Clearly he was planning to drown his sorrows tonight.

He took out another small pile of cash, bound in the way winnings always were, extracted a twenty and pushed it across the bar. "Same again," he grunted.

River watched as he sipped at another glass. "She lost a lot?"

"More than she had," nodded Ben. "And more than she knew she could pay back."

"Whom did she owe?" asked Carlton.

"She called him Gold, but I don't think it was his real name. He had half a dozen gold teeth and had some serious gold jewellery."

"You didn't stop her trying to borrow money?" asked River, skeptically.

Ben slammed down his glass. "Of course I did!" His eyes, red with alcohol and tears, glared at her from under thick brows. "I didn't want her getting involved with him. But she insisted, she wouldn't stop..." Tears leaked from under his lids; he sat back down, back to the world. Silently, the pair left him to it.

Gold was not difficult to spot. In a corner of the room, two heavily built men in black stood either side of a squat dark-skinned man, matching the description. A gold ring twinkled on his left little finger, and it did not escape Carlton's notice that he wore a gun holster on his hip.

An empty gun holster.

Quickly, he pulled River back into the crowd.

"We can't go and talk to him, he'll guess we're cops and we won't get out of here," he muttered in River's ear. "He's probably got wind that we're here already, so we can't send you in as bait or anything."

"Just as well, because I am not bait," she hissed back. "But isn't it obvious? Haven't we got our guy?"

Carlton shook his head. "In a law court, he'd just claim that the casino bans firearms and so left it outside, or that Kathy stole it from him herself. No, we're going to need more evidence."

River chuckled. "Okay. Then that's what we're going to get."

Answer (highlight to read): Kathy had no money and had resorted to borrowing from a potentially deadly and armed loan shark. What kind of boyfriend lets her do that without lending her any of his big stash? Ben is the killer - he stole Gold's gun and shot Kathy.