Ashes to Dust (Las Vegas Mystery)

here.”
    “Do you know what time he’ll be in?”
    “No,” he said. “He’s in Vegas. He may not be back for days.”
    Snow raised his eyebrows and looked at Alice. Into the phone, he said, “Is that Jack Roberts you’re talking about?”
    “Yeah—just a second.”
    They heard the sound of conversation in the background. Then the young man came back on the line. “Yeah,” he said. “Jack Roberts. He’s the owner. He’s been in Vegas since last Wednesday. His daughter died. So he went there to deal with it. I haven’t heard from him in a couple days. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
    “Is there an assistant manager?” Snow asked.
    The young man chuckled. “Are you kidding? Whaddya think this is, Kmart?”
    “Who’s running the store?”
    “Nobody,” he said. “Other than Jack, there are only two of us who work here. And while he’s gone, we’re both working twelve-hour shifts.”
    “Sounds like you’re open twenty-four hours,” Snow said.
    “You’re good with story problems,” he said. “What is it you need? Maybe I can help you.” He laughed.
    “My name is Jim Snow. My partner, Alice James, is listening in. We’re private investigators in Las Vegas. Who are we speaking with?”
    “Really,” he said. “That’s cool. My name is Ricky. Ricky Oberender.”
    “Well, Ricky,” Snow said, “it sounds as though you haven’t heard about your boss…”
    “What about him?” Ricky said.
    “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Ricky—but Jack Roberts is dead.”
    Silence. Snow waited.
    “Ricky?”
    “He’s dead? Holy shit! What, was he in a car accident or something?”
    “He was shot,” Snow said.
    “Who shot him?”
    “We did,” Snow said.
    More silence.
    “Ricky?”
    “Damn!” Ricky said, his voice quivering. “Why are you calling here?”
    “We just need to ask you some questions, Ricky,” Snow said. “Do you mind?”
    “I don’t know,” he said, his voice rising an octave. “I don’t know anything.”
    “You don’t know anything about what, Ricky?”
    “What Jack was involved in,” he said. “Whatever it was that got him killed. I just work here.”
    “You’ve got it all wrong, Ricky,” Snow said. “Alice James and I were hired to investigate the murder of Jack’s daughter. In fact, it was Jack who hired us.”
    “And you shot him? What was that all about?”
    “It’s a long story, Ricky,” Snow said. “I’d rather not go into that right now.”
    “And now he’s dead. So why are you still investigating if the guy who hired you is dead?”
    “After we shot him, his mother hired us,” Snow said.
    Ricky’s voice was frantic, his words shooting out like machine gun fire. “No way—you expect me to believe a story like that? I don’t know who you are or what you want from me, but I’m hanging up right now and calling the cops.”
    Alice leaned closer to the phone. Her voice even and calm, she said, “Ricky, this is Alice James speaking. I know all of this sounds bizarre to you. But it’s more complicated than my associate made it sound. The reason we’re calling is because Jack’s mother asked us to continue our investigation into her granddaughter’s murder—which probably has nothing to do with Jack’s death. I think they’re isolated events. But we need to ask you about Jack, if you don’t mind. We need to try and determine where he was the evening his daughter was murdered.”
    “Oh.” Ricky’s voice began to settle down to its normal tone. “That was last Tuesday night, right?”
    “That’s correct,” Alice said.
    “He was working here,” Ricky said. “From eight o’clock Tuesday morning until midnight.”
    “He worked a double shift that day?”
    “That’s right,” Ricky said. “I know because he relieved me in the morning, and I relieved him at midnight.”
    “Did he usually work two shifts?”
    “No. What happened was Hector Martinez called in sick. Jack tried to get in touch with me to take the shift, but I wasn’t home. I was spending the night at my girlfriend’s place. So he carried the shift. He was here until midnight.”
    “Okay,” Alice said. “This Hector Martinez, can you give us his phone number? We’d like to call him just to verify what you told us.”
    “Sure,” Ricky said. “No problem. But now what am I gonna do?”
    “About what?”
    “The store. Jack’s dead. What do I do about the store?”
    “I don’t know,” Alice said. “Isn’t there someone you can