Ashes to Dust (Las Vegas Mystery)

my bicep and dug his nails into me. It even left a bruise. More than once I almost punched him, but I knew that’s what he wanted. He’d be able to use that as a wedge to drive between Laura and me.”
    “Did you ever talk to Laura about her father’s behavior?” Alice said.
    Miller’s hands flipped up. “Oh sure. She told me he acted that way toward every guy she ever dated. Like he was jealous. She kept telling me not to worry about it, that he’d eventually warm up to me.” He snorted. “That’s a laugh. You know, Laura told me that when she was a year old, they were coming home from a party. Apparently Jack was drunk, so her mother was driving. They were arguing, and her mother got distracted, ran a red light, and they were T-boned by a pickup. Laura wasn’t injured very badly, and Jack only had a cut on the head—but Laura’s mother died on the way to the hospital. She told me he never forgave himself for that. It’s been eating at him his whole life.”
    “He gave up drinking?” Snow asked.
    Miller shook his head. “Hell no. He got worse! She said on the weekends he’d drink himself into a stupor—until one night, when she was sixteen. She said they were sitting there watching a movie on TV, and he got up to get another drink. On the way back, he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. Then the lips.”
    “What did she do?”
    “She said she slapped him and jumped up out of her chair—ran up to her room. Neither one of them ever said anything about it. But after that, his drinking tapered off. Eventually he quit completely. Now he despises anyone who drinks at all. Instead of being a drunken asshole, now he’s a sober one.”
    “Was he ever abusive towards Laura, that you know of?” Alice said.
    “No. He doted on her, gave her just about anything she wanted.”
    “Do you think there might be any reason he would want to harm her?”
    Miller flipped his hands up again. “None that I know of. I’m the one he’d like to harm.”
    Alice turned her head toward Snow as if deep in thought, her eyes narrowing.
    “What?” Snow asked her.
    She put a finger up in front of her lips and then turned her head toward the open patio doorway, listening. She got up slowly, slipping the nine-millimeter out of her shoulder holster and lowering it to her side, the muzzle pointed toward the floor.
    Snow got up too, staring at her in disbelief. She glanced at him and pointed toward the screened patio doorway. He raised his hands in front of his waist, palms up.
    But she was already moving quickly toward the patio door like a two-legged cat. Snow stood with his hands on his hips, watching as she reached for the handle of the sliding screen door with her left hand, her nine-millimeter moving up.
    Alice threw the screen door open and moved through the opening, bringing the gun up with both hands in front of her.
    “ Fuck! ” came a startled voice from behind the wall. “ Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! What the fuck? ”
    She lowered the gun. “Jack,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
    Snow recognized the man’s voice now. “I just wanted to hear what that sonofabitch had to say. And it’s just like I figured—trying to put the blame on me—for everything. You’re supposed to be questioning him about him —not me! He’s the suspect—not me!”
    “Oh Jesus.” Snow shook his head and strode toward the patio. He stepped through the doorway and stood glaring at Jack Roberts. “Roberts—I thought we agreed you’d head back to your motel and go to bed.”
    The man stood with big eyes, his shoulders sagging, his arms hanging at his sides. “I decided to come back,” he said.
    Alice holstered her handgun. “Do you realize you’re trespassing? That we could get a patrol unit dispatched out here and have you arrested?”
    Roberts looked from Alice to Snow and back to Alice. “I just wanted to hear what sort of lies he had to say—about me.”
    Snow sighed, staring at him. “Look. You didn’t hire us to babysit you. That’s not the sort of work we do. Now, are you going to start listening to us?”
    He jabbed a finger at Snow. “You work for me—not the other way around.”
    “Goddammit,” Snow muttered.
    Alice touched Snow on the arm as she brushed past him. “Let me talk to him, Jim,” she said, her voice low. “You go back inside. I’ll walk Jack to his car.”
    “Alright,” he said. Then he slipped back through the doorway, glancing at Miller. Noticing, as the man