Frank Gilbert purred into the phone. Most people would think this an endearing tone. I knew better. My quasi boyfriend was striving for patience. “I leave you for twelve hours and you get into trouble.”“I didn’t get into trouble. Trouble found me,” I argued. Out loud, that statement really didn’t sound as good as I hoped it might.“Uh-huh,” Frank answered, patience unraveling. “You managed to be still long enough for it to catch up with you.”“I’m offended.”“You should be.” I could hear the smile in his voice.“So, when are you going to get here so I don’t have to spend my entire vacation at the Clark County lockup?” I glanced over at the door. The cops had with amazing speed sequestered us in separate rooms, ostensibly so we wouldn’t compare notes on what happened in the poker room. As I sat in the only chair in the room, I couldn’t help glancing at what was on the desk in front of me, and I decided that I was in the office of the head of housekeeping.“Surely you don’t need me?
