Someone had defaced the pristine white tilework. A message had been scrawled in enormous red paint letters.
Alex Markov is a murderer!
Some of the paint was still dripping, giving the message the appearance of blood. Each letter had to be about ten inches in height and the entire sentence ran across two full walls.
“It’s fresh,” said Wade. “Whoever did this, he can’t be far.”
Shannon’s voice sounded in Alex’s head.It’s all your fault.
He cursed under his breath. “Call someone to clean this mess up.”
“Alex, no. What we need to do is call the police.”
“Because some gambler got drunk and decided to deface the washroom? Wade, come on. Don’t waste their time.”
“This isn’t the work of a drunk. People don’t exactly carry red paint around with them when they hit the casinos. Vice was targeted.Youwere targeted.”
“Okay, fine. Maybe this was intentional. Still, no one’s been hurt. As far as I can tell, this is just a case of mischief. You know as well as I do the cops will make a few notes, pat us on the backs, and tell us to install more security cameras.”
“There aren’t any cameras in the johns, of course, but there are a few outside. I’ve already got someone checking the footage from the ones in the hallway.”
“Good. Once you see who it was, we can put this to bed.”
“You’re taking this calmly.”
“I don’t do hysterical.”
“Alex, this sounds personal.”
“Wade, I promise you someone’s just having a laugh at my expense. I’m an easy mark and my name’s been in the papers.” As much as Alex tried to dismiss the message as the work of some inebriated fruitcake, his memory teased a fingernail down his back, making him bristle.
Murderer!
He’d almost forgotten about the letter.
Maybe he needed to be sensible here. “Look, I don’t want to get the security team up in arms, but a letter came for me this week. Anonymous. It said the same thing.”
Wade’s face darkened. “I need to see it.”
“Sure. It’s in my office. I kept it, just in case.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I figured it was just some prick getting his jollies.”
“Yeah, right. Just some prick, huh? I’m glad you kept it. It’s evidence.”
“Of what?”
“I can think of at least a dozen things and none of them good. How many of these letters did you get?”
“Just the one.”
Wade paced the length of the washroom. “I don’t like this.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t be the first time the owner of Vice was threatened. Back when Liam was here, he got a few strange letters too. At the time, we figured they were from some environmental group who got their noses out of joint because he opened a third hotel instead of turning the land into a community garden. There was a lot of name calling, death threats, that sort of thing.”
