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Jonesy nodded. “Yeah, I felt for Gretchen’s parents, the murdered contestant we found in San Francisco.” He paused. “What do you know about the second disappearance? Any news?”

Chet shook his head. “Absolutely nothing, other than her name. Jasmine Atwood. We were informed of her disappearance a few hours after she went missing. We found no signs of a struggle in her room, but we’re continuing to search for evidence. We’re not even sure if she was taken from her room. We’re just hoping she won’t end up like Gretchen.”

“With the amount of security around here, the chaperones, the pageant staff, and your office, how can these women simply vanish?” I asked.

Both men looked at me, realizing I’d been standing there in silence the entire time. Jonesy brought a hand up and rested it on my shoulder. I wasn’t sure whether it was meant to clue me in to be quiet or signaled that my question added to the conversation. I was surprised by the gesture, since he was rarely physical in public. But he smiled and winked at me, and at least I felt I was contributing something.

“We don’t know. But since both incidents, the security and awareness around all the women in the hotel have been put on red alert,” Chet said.

I could tell he was embarrassed by it all, and I wasn’t going to keep poking the bear. Accusing the security staff and the sheriff’s office wouldn’t put me in their good graces if I needed to ask further questions.

We knew Jasmine disappeared shortly after Gretchen, but there had been no other incidents, likely due to the increased security at the hotel. The pageant organization had said that kind of thing had never happened before, and, according to Chet, they were more interested in keeping the tarnish off the pageant's tiaras than in what had happened to the missing women. His comment made my gut clench.

“How have the other contestants reacted to the news of what happened? I’m sure it spread like wildfire once it got out, let alone the theories,” Jonesy asked.

“I’ve been here since Gretchen’s disappearance, and some contestants and staff from the pageant and the hotel have been on edge. The women are focused on the competition, though, and I haven’t sensed a blanket of fear,” Chet replied.

“Where was Jasmine from?” I asked out of curiosity.

“She’s from Reno,” Chet replied. “Her parents are here, and they’re worried sick. It was too late in the pageant to replace her with her runner-up, so the City of Reno isn’t represented in tonight’s ceremony.”

Jonesy sighed. “Craig and I saw the runner-up for Miss Boulder City in the elevator earlier. Apparently, there was enough time to get her to replace Gretchen.” There was a slight edge of disdain in his remark.

Chet lowered his voice. “The beauty pageant world is a world unto itself. I’ve watched young ladies cry hysterically, get yelled at by pageant mothers, and heard stories of rivalries that outdo those in the sports world.”

“How long have you been working security at the pageants?” I asked, assuming he’d been doing it for a while.

“I’ve been part of it since I became sheriff here. Bally’s has hosted the event for years, and there’s never been an issue. The pageant organization usually includes the local police or the sheriff’s office in its security details. I’ve always handled it myself, but because of what’s happened, I’ve had three deputies join me, rotating daily to assist the hotel security.”

“I can see from the number of monitors that it would be hard to transport a body out without someone noticing,” Jonesy said, looking at the wall of screens.

“The monitors cycle through the guest room floors, but the larger monitors you see are fixed and focused on the lobby, the entrances, and, of course, the casino floor. Most suspicious activity is on the casino floor, obviously,” Chet replied, walking up next to him.

As I stood back and thought about what had happened, my mind focused on the theory that this might be an inside job. Which staff positions would have the best access to the rooms? What would be the best way to remove and transport a body without raising suspicion? What underlying motive would there be? We needed to consider all possibilities, especially with the Miss California pageant coming up soon in San Francisco.

Jonesy and Chet continued discussing the larger visual tools in the room, which gave me a chance to see what the other surveillance agents were doing. Cameras above the casino floor monitored the blackjack pits, craps tables, slot banks, sportsbook, and the cash cages. Those stations were where individuals were assigned to watch for chip theft, card counting, or other suspicious behavior. The scale of cheating scams at the casino was a constant threat, and I could understand that most agents were focused on preventing the casino from losing money. Paying attention to a kidnapped beauty contestant probably wasn’t high on their priority list.

I’d been standing behind the agent who was monitoring the blackjack tables when Jonesy and Chet walked up to me.

“I think we’ve taken enough of Chet’s time here, Craig,” Jonesy said before turning back to Chet. “Thank you for taking the time to discuss what’s going on. Let’s stay in touch about Jasmine and any further developments. We’re hosting the Miss California pageant at the Palace Hotel in San Francisco. I’m not sure whether that makes security easier or harder, but I plan to find out. We don’t need this to happen again.” We shook Chet’s hand, and he chanted, “Go Dawgs,” back to Jonesy. I guess Georgia never did leave the man.

We left the security office, not knowing much more than before we went in, and I could see Jonesy was deep in thought. “What’s on your mind?” I asked as we walked back through the casino.

“Two women in a beauty pageant disappear, and one ends up dead in our city. Why?”

“Let’s grab something to eat. I have a theory, and an idea you might find interesting,” I replied, leading him toward the hotel’s restaurants.

11

JONESY

We took almost ten minutes to decide what we were in the mood for. Craig wanted Mexican, and I wanted Italian. We ended up at a Thai place after a couple walking out told us it was good.

After we ordered and got our Thai beers, I said, “Tell me about this theory you’ve been contemplating.”

We clinked our bottles together. Craig took a long draw from his beer before answering. “Since something like this has never happened before—at least not with missing contestants at a pageant—I think their surveillance and guest security leave a lot to be desired. They’re really on it now, but it took two women disappearing before they tightened things up.”

“Go on,” I said, taking a sip of beer.