Ashes to Dust (Las Vegas Mystery)

That’s where I got my experience.”
    Dr. Gilmore’s smile broadened. “That’s admirable. So you decided to spread your wings and broaden your career, gaining independence in the process. Congratulations, Alice.”
    Alice grinned happily. “Why thank you, Dr. Gilmore.”
    Dr. Gilmore swung her head toward Snow. “And how about you, Jim?”
    Snow cleared his throat. “I was in Homicide,” he said. “I quit the force to play poker for a living.”
    Dr. Gilmore’s eyes narrowed. “I see.” She waved her limp hand in a circle in front of her. “Was this some sort of compulsion you were dealing with?”
    Snow could feel his face heating up. “No, of course not. I studied the game and played extensively for quite a while on the side while I was still with Metro. I kept detailed records of wins and losses. Then I established a business plan, complete with an estimation of the longest losing streak I might have to endure. My bankroll was more than adequate—so I tendered my resignation and went to work as a professional poker player.”
    Dr. Gilmore’s eyes widened, and the corners of her mouth curled up. She looked like the Cheshire cat, waiting to pounce. “And how did it go for you?” she asked.
    “For the first two and a half years I did pretty good,” Snow said. “I had a few short periods of consolidation, but showed a profit overall during that time.”
    She rested her chin on the knuckle of her index finger and nodded slowly. “And after that?”
    Snow fidgeted in his chair. “Then, for the next six months, I lost steadily. Nearly every day. I lost my confidence, decided to take a break from it—and investigate my brother-in-law’s murder. After of few more months of loafing around, Alice broached the idea of this partnership we entered into. I had no other prospects, so I decided to give it a shot.”
    Leaning back in her chair, Dr. Gilmore folded her hands in her lap. “It sounds like you’re saying that Alice threw you a lifeline, and you took it.”
    “I guess you could put it that way,” Snow said.
    “And how is the private detective business working out for you, Jim?”
    Snow shrugged. “It’s a mixed bag,” he said. “To be honest, at this point I’m not too sure I’m crazy about it.”
    Dr. Gilmore nodded and then turned her head toward Alice. “I’m curious, Alice—how you feel about that.”
    Alice sighed. “Well. You know…I’d actually rather not say.”
    Dr. Gilmore tilted her head. “Why not?”
    “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Alice said.
    “Honesty and open conversation,” Dr. Gilmore said, “is always a good idea. Why not clear the air?”
    Alice shrugged. “Sometimes I feel like I want to smack him upside the head.”
    “What do you think about that, Jim?” Dr. Gilmore shot him a sidelong look.
    Snow raised an eyebrow and turned it toward Alice. “No comment,” he replied.
    “You’ll have to forgive me for being so personal.” Dr. Gilmore spread her hands and chuckled. “I do get carried away and forget myself sometimes. I’m used to dealing with my patients all day, every day. But I have to say, I have never met a couple who present such a striking contrast.”
    She motioned her hand toward Alice. “Here we have an elegant, charming woman in a business suit…” She nodded toward Snow. “And next to her, a fellow with mussed hair, jeans, and—what is that—a golf shirt, with the tail untucked?”
    “It’s the style of the shirt,” Snow said. “It has slits in the sides; I assume it’s designed to be worn this way. Although I could be wrong; it didn’t come with instructions. As for my hair, we were driving with the windows down. It always does that to my hair. Maybe I should wear a hat. A fedora possibly, or a top hat with a big bow tie. I might add that we live in an age dominated by casual attire. Anytime I see a man in a tie—other than at weddings and funerals—that’s a flag, telling me he’s trying to sell something. I’m not selling anything, Dr. Gilmore. And I like to be comfortable—without a colorful noose tied around my neck, strangling me.
    “But enough about me. We seem to have gotten off on a tangent. Would you mind if we talk about someone you know? That is, after all, the purpose of our visit.”
    Dr. Gilmore offered a smirk, blinked slowly, and nodded. “Certainly. I apologize, Jim. Whom would you like to know about?”
    “Crystal Olson,” Snow said.
    “Nice, energetic young lady,” Dr.