Ashes to Dust (Las Vegas Mystery)

Snow said, “Now you get your chance.”
    “It’s not him,” she said, reaching into her purse. “It’s probably a prospective client. Think positive.”
    She checked the number, pressed the talk button, and placed the phone next to her ear. Smiling, she tilted her head and chimed, “Hello, Jack. How are you today?” She looked at Snow, rolling her eyes. “Actually, I’m sitting here with Jim as we speak, so I can’t tell you anything more than he did, okay?…I know…I know…Sometimes we do split up if we have a lot of ground to cover…” She rolled her eyes again. “Okay, Jack. You have a good day. Try not to worry. I know this is tough for you, but try to occupy your mind with a pleasant distraction for a while if you can. Maybe see a movie or something…Okay, sure…You’re welcome…Bye-bye.” She disconnected the call.
    “If you expect me to start talking to him like that,” Snow muttered, “I’ll have to start wearing pink underwear.”
    She dropped the phone into her purse and resumed eating. “I can’t believe he called both of us.”
    “He likes to cover all of his bases—limited as they may be.”
    “Anyway,” Alice said, “back to my original question…”
    Snow ate some more green beans, thinking. Finally, he said, “I don’t know. Obviously we have to continue on with the Tyson Dole angle. We can’t eliminate him. After lunch, we talk to the dentist, see where that takes us. After we finish with him, we could talk to Dole’s neighbors, see if any of them saw him coming or going Tuesday night. What do you think?”
    Alice nodded. “Sounds good.”
    Snow put his fork down and crossed his arms. “You know what I was thinking, Alice?”
    “What’s that?”
    “I think you should take the initiative. Make the first move.”
    She screwed up her face. “With Tyson Dole?”
    “No. Your father. Leon Stapper. Call him and invite him out for a weekend. Tell him you’d like him to stay at your home so the two of you can get to know each other.”
    “Are you crazy?” Alice protested. “Someone like him? He’s rich. Why would he want to stay with me? He probably books a penthouse at the Bellagio when he comes here.”
    “Well,” Snow insisted, “you offer, just to be gracious, but let him stay where he wants.”
    “And I expect he has a young, blonde-haired, blue-eyed girlfriend he would want to bring along. He might feel a little uncomfortable introducing her to a forty-one-year-old black woman—as his long-lost daughter. Imagine the look on her face.”
    “Definitely a Kodak moment,” Snow said.
    They laughed.
    And continued to eat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Andrew Tully owned a two-story home located in what appeared to be a ten-to fifteen-year-old development off East Summerlin Parkway, a couple miles east of Highway 215. His residence was a three-bedroom, with a manicured front lawn and palm trees on both sides.
    He answered his doorbell promptly, offered a nervous smile and a clammy handshake, and then invited Alice and Snow inside. They seated themselves at one end of the leather sectional sofa, while Tully assigned himself to the opposite end.
    Wearing a yellow polo shirt, black pleated slacks, and penny loafers, Andrew Tully appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties. A slight fellow of average height, his short brown hair was parted along the side, with the front hanging down over his forehead at an angle. He was attempting to project an air of well-being and self-control, but failing at it. His eyes were dark and puffy, his complexion pasty, his movements jerky—and his entire body seemed to quiver.
    Putting his hands together in his lap, he settled his gaze on Snow. “Can I get you some coffee, or perhaps a cocktail?”
    Snow looked at Alice. She arched her eyebrows and shrugged. He turned back to Tully. “Whatever you’re having will be fine with me.”
    “I’m feeling in the mood for a gin and tonic,” Tully said. “But if you’d like something else, I have a full bar…”
    “That sounds good to me,” Snow said. “I haven’t had one of those in a long time.”
    Tully looked at Alice.
    “Count me in,” she said.
    He got up and left Alice and Snow to gaze about the living room, taking in the various paintings covering the walls.
    “Nice taste,” Alice said.
    “Yeah. Nice variety. A few forest, mountain, and lake scenes. We’ve got the ocean, some animals, and a flower.”
    Alice narrowed her eyes. “It