Ryan smiled. "That's why I'm not beating you two off with a stick. I know you're good at your jobs."
"So you're not super annoyed that we’re investigating the same thing?"
"No, I'm a bit annoyed, but I understand it can't be helped. We’d have to deal with this situation at some point."
I nodded thoughtfully. "What did you talk to Dave about?"
“Just trying to refresh his memory. Forensics haven't come back with anything yet, and I don't think they will. This might be another one of those unsolved cases–I hate to dash your hopes about being the quick PI who solved the case before the cops, but I don't think either one of us will get there. We’re under a lot of pressure at the LVMPD, and we can't just work on a case forever."
"And then what happens to the show?"
Ryan shrugged. "If we don't find anything conclusive, we’ll wrap things up within a week or two–and then everyone can travel back to LA or wherever they want to."
"I guess that's something," Ian said. "People are really stressed about not being able to go back to LA."
We chatted a bit about what the show might be like once it was produced, and Ian was still optimistic about everything wrapping up smoothly.
Ryan and I didn't share his perspective, but we tried to be supportive for his sake.
Chapter 19
Ian and I found Dave sitting in his room, typing away on his laptop. He looked up at us hopefully when we entered, and indicated we should sit down in two of the chairs that had been pushed against the adjacent wall.
"Did you find anything since this morning?" Dave said.
"We're still talking to people," I said. I couldn't be too vague, or Dave would think that we weren’t doing our jobs. "Did you know that Chuck still won’t talk to us? We really need you to tell him to have a chat with us."
Dave nodded. "It won’t be a problem. Chuck's a bit gruff, but if he realizes that I absolutely need him to do something, he'll do it."
"Did you know that Chuck hit on Brenna and she wasn't pleased about it?"
A slightly guilty expression briefly washed over Dave's face. "Yeah, Chuck told me about it."
"Are you and Chuck good friends?"
Dave smiled and tilted his head. "What's a good friend in Hollywood? Everyone’s ready to stab each other in the back."
My eyebrows shot up. "I didn't think you were this cynical."
Dave shrugged. "I'm usually not, I think it’s this case–it's getting to me. The police have talked to me about a hundred times, as if I know anything I haven't told them already."
"You haven’t answered the question," Ian reminded him. "Are you and Chuck good friends?"
"We've worked on quite a few projects together. I’d like to think I know him well. And we like each other–at least, I like him, and I think he likes me."
"Why didn't you tell us about his interaction with Brenna?"
Again, that guilty look flashed over Dave’s face. For someone who was so used to dealing with the pretentious people in show business, Dave sure was bad at hiding his emotions. Or maybe he was too tired to keep up a façade any longer.
"I didn't see any reason to tell people," he said. "Chuck liked the ladies, but he would never hurt anyone. I didn't want people to get the wrong idea about him."
"But he did approach Brenna," I said. "Maybe he wasn't pleased by her reaction. Maybe he never intended to kill her, but something happened between them and he ended up stabbing her."
Dave shook his head vehemently. "I know Chuck, he could never hurt a fly."
"People say that," I said. "But then, they find out that the person they thought they knew so well was a murderer."
Dave smiled. "I don't mean it like that. I mean, he literally couldn't hurt a fly. He's a Jain."
I knit my brows. "What's that?"
"He's a Jain–he practices Jainism. It's an ancient religion where you're forbidden to hurt any other living creature."
"Lots of people follow religions where they’re told not to hurt their fellow man. Doesn’t mean much."
"Chuck is really hard-core about Jainism," Dave said. "He won't even eat root vegetables like potatoes and carrots, because pulling up the vegetable kills the whole plant."
I shook my head. "It just sounds to me like one of those Hollywood fads, you know, like drinking coconut water or green juices."
"Chuck's really serious about it. He's not just following a fad."
I looked at him doubtfully. "Even if he is really serious about this religion, perhaps he broke one of the rules just this one time. Maybe he doesn’t eat potatoes and carrots, but he went and killed someone."
Dave shook his head. "Chuck's not like that."
"Well, we won't know until we talk to him–which he’s refusing to do."
"I'll tell him to talk to you guys," Dave promised.
"And what's the deal with Bruce?" Ian said. "He told us he's not feeling well today."
For a split second, I saw a flash of anger in Dave's eyes. "Yes, he told me the same thing. We’re not shooting today, and maybe not tomorrow either. He wants some time off to rest and recover."
I sensed that there was something else going on between Dave and Bruce. "He hasn't wanted to talk to us either, like he’s hiding something. How well do you know Bruce?"
"Not all that well," Dave admitted. "But he came well recommended. He's got a great reputation in Hollywood."
"There's something off about him," Ian said. "I can't put my finger on it, but he's hiding something."
Dave pressed his lips together and shook his head, but before he could say anything, there was a knock on the door, and Chuck poked his head in.
"I just want to talk to you about–" and then he glanced at us, and fell silent.
Dave got up and closed his laptop. "Come in, Chuck. You know Tiffany and Ian–they've been trying to talk to you. I'm going to step out for a bit, and I want you to come inside, and tell them everything. They already know about you and Brenna, so there's no point hiding anything."
Embarrassment washed over Chuck's face. He stepped into the room sheepishly and sat down on the chair that Dave had just vacated. He glanced at us and said, "So, you know about me hitting on Brenna and getting rejected. Talk about bad timing."
"Is that why you've been avoiding us?"
"Yes. I'm not very good at lying, and I thought you wouldn’t understand."
"Didn’t the police ask you about it?"
"They did, but they didn't think it was a big deal. I just thought that you two would make it a big deal. I didn’t want to go through that."
Ian looked offended. "Why? Because we’re unsophisticated and not as experienced the police?"
"Something like that," Chuck admitted. "So, is this what you two wanted to talk to me about?"
"Not just this. But I need you to tell me what you and Brenna talked about. What exactly happened?"
Chuck shrugged. "I wanted to say hello before the show started. She was intelligent, funny and friendly. I thought she might be interested in me. We talked about Vegas for a bit, and then zombies, and then I asked her if she’d have anyone special watching her in the audience. She said no, her brother was busy with work. I asked if she didn't have a boyfriend or two, and she just laughed. She said she was taking a break from men, and I asked her if she could make an exception, you know what I mean? She said no, and then I tried out a line or two, but she wasn't pleased about it. She said she didn't want me bothering her, and she was done with men."
"That was it?"
Chuck nodded.
“Did she tell you about herself?”
"Not much—nothing in particular.”
"But she did mention she was taking a break from men," Ian suggested. "Maybe she's had a bad breakup, and that's fresh in her mind."
"That's possible," I agreed. I turned to Chuck again. "And that's absolutely all you talked about?"
Chuck nodded.
"Did you see her talking to anyone else before the show?"
Chuck
shook his head, no, and then he paused. "I think I saw her talking to Bruce. They looked friendly. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but now that you mention it, Brenna didn't seem overly friendly to me. She treated me like a stranger. But she was smiling at Bruce as though she knew him from beforehand."
"And Bruce has just called in sick."
Chuck grimaced. "Yeah, that's annoying. We could’ve done some work today if he hadn't rushed off like that."
"Did you talked to him today?"
Chuck shook his head. "I didn't see him. I found out from the mass text that Dave sent everyone."
"Speaking of Dave, what's going on between Dave and Bruce?"
Chuck looked surprised. "What do you mean?"
I bit my lip. "It might be nothing, but I got the impression that there was something going on between those two. Dave seemed really annoyed when I mentioned Bruce calling in sick today."
Chuck shook his head. "We’re all annoyed. We could probably get Pete, the second cameraman to take over, but I know Dave doesn't want to take a risk this early in the show."
"You know, if you’re a Jain, and you can't hurt anyone, that means the number of suspects we've got has just gone down."
"I’m sure you’ve still got a bunch of suspects," Chuck said. "What about Brenna's brother and her roommate? And then there's Taylor, who gets to take Brenna's part now."
"Do you really think Taylor might’ve had anything to do with Brenna's death?"
"Well…" Chuck ran a hand through his hair, seeming conflicted about what he was about to say. "I don't want to get Dave into trouble. He and I–we go back a long way, at least in Hollywood years."
I remembered what I'd overheard those two girls saying about Taylor. "Is Taylor manipulating Dave in some way?"
Chuck grinned. "You could say that. They're having an affair, they've been together for a bit now, and I think Dave just brought her onto the show to impress her."
My eyebrows shot up. "I didn't see that one coming."
Chuck shrugged. "Dave doesn't need to go out of his way to impress a girl, but for some reason, he decided to do that with Taylor. And then he was all charming toward Brenna, and I think Taylor might’ve been a bit jealous of Brenna."
"But Dave wasn't interested in Brenna, was he?"
"Not that I know of. But you know Dave, he's nice and friendly toward everyone, and Brenna didn't hesitate to turn me down. Who knows, perhaps she thought she might have something with Dave? And perhaps Taylor caught on to that."
I looked at him and tried to put the pieces together. If Taylor was manipulating Dave, and she was jealous of Brenna, and she was only on the show because Dave wanted to impress her…
"Are you sure about all this?"
Chuck nodded. "As sure as I can be."
"How well do you know Bruce?"
"Not that well. I haven't worked with him before, but he seems to have a good reputation in Hollywood, which is why Dave brought him on to this project."
"What kind of reputation? Like, his projects go on to become successes?"
Chuck nodded. "Something like that. He does good work. Although, I've heard a couple of rumors…"
"What kind of rumors?"
"Nothing substantial. Just that some people don't like him. Of course, that’s nothing new in showbiz–everyone has their detractors, no matter how good they are at their work."
Ian and I chatted with Chuck a bit longer. Now that his secret chat with Brenna was out in the open, he was a rather nice guy. He told us about the other people in the crew, and what it was like to be a director of a reality TV show.
After what felt like a very long time, we said goodbye to him, and headed out.
"I thought you wouldn't be shooting today," I told Ian, "so I asked for an earlier shift for today. The convention center seems to have cleared out, and we might as well go home."
"You should go to your shift," Ian said. "If we can start the day earlier tomorrow, maybe we can catch Brenna's brother at home, before he goes to work."
"He works as a mechanic," I reminded Ian. "I'm sure his day starts very early. But we could go and talk to him at work."
We turned to enter the cafeteria, and almost bumped into Ryan.
I grinned. "There are advantages to working on the same case, I haven't seen you so often in a long time."
Ryan smiled back. "Do you want to get lunch together? I'm going to head out and try to track down some people at their hotels."
I nodded. As we helped ourselves to salad and sliced meats–no more food had been added to the buffet–I said, "Did you learn anything more?"
Ryan shook his head. "I don't know what happened on this case. It’s like nobody's going to tell us the truth."
"We learned that Chuck is a Jain," I volunteered. "That means he can't hurt anyone. So, if he's a strict practitioner, he couldn't have killed Brenna."
Ryan chuckled. "Sounds like another one of those Hollywood fads to me."
"That’s exactly what I thought!” I said, smiling and thinking to myself how similar Ryan and I were. “But he doesn't seem like a bad person. Of course, you're probably right. These showbiz people do all sorts of strange things, I'm sure they don't really believe in these trends. He’s just as likely as anyone else to have gone after Brenna."
"At least I managed to talk to Bruce before he called in sick today," Ryan said. "Dave seems annoyed about that."
"I don't think he likes to be delayed on his project."
Ryan nodded. "Bruce seemed fine to me when I talked to him. I wonder what's going on there."
"Maybe he's just slacking off," I suggested, but I didn't really believe that.
"It's not like he's avoiding the cops," Ian said. "But he did run off awful quick."
"And none of the people on the set know him that well,” I mused out loud. “Chuck didn't want us talking to him because he didn't want to chat about how Brenna had rejected him. I wonder why Bruce won't talk to us."
Chapter 20
Ian and I got back to our apartments in time for me to run some errands before heading off to the casino.
The Treasury was as packed as ever, and I sank into the bright, loud blanket that it provided. As I dealt cards and chatted with the players, I thought over everything we had learned so far. Brenna’s death still seemed a mystery to me–I couldn't see anyone on the set who really would want her dead. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed likely that someone had entered from outside the conference center–probably someone who had a close relationship with Brenna.
Tomorrow, we would have to go and talk to Brenna's brother. Maybe he’d know of someone who really hated Brenna. And speaking of people we hadn't talked to yet, there was Kyle Chandlers, the show's consultant who’d asked Dave to hire me. Sure, we chatted to him about how hard he was finding it to not go to LA in time for his other meetings, and he'd been the one who insisted to Dave that he hire us–but Ian and I should probably have an official interview with him and ask him what he knew about Brenna. Perhaps he had seen something that the others had missed, or perhaps Brenna had confided in him about something–who was it that mentioned Brenna speaking with Kyle briefly? I'd have to go over my notes, but it must've been one of the stagehands; they'd implied that Brenna hadn't had time to do more than introduce herself to Kyle, but maybe they chatted again at a later time.
Before I knew it, my shift was over. I changed out of my dealer’s uniform and into jeans and a T-shirt; it was three in the morning, and it was warm enough for me to not need to wear a cardigan.
I traveled down the streets that I walked so often.
My path took me down the alley that ran behind the Cosmo Hotel. For some reason, there was a streetlight here that never worked; every couple of weeks someone would fix it, or replace a bulb, only to have it go out again.
This was the darkest and most silent part of my walk back home, and whenever I walked down the alley, I tried to keep my senses on highest alert. There have been times when killer
s, annoyed with my investigations, have threatened me in this alley, so I needed to keep my wits about me.
I was trying to stay hypervigilant, but when the dark, hooded figure stepped out from behind a parked car, I froze.
My blood turned to ice. For a split second, my heart forgot to beat.
And then, the hooded figure pushed back his hood. "It's me."
Relief flooded through me. I took a step backward to process it. "Stone!"
I hadn't seen my friend Stone for a while now, and there was a time when I'd almost given up on ever see him again.
I'd met Stone during my very first case, and since then, we've worked together quite a few times. An ex-CIA guy, Stone and I have always been platonic friends, though there was one night when we shared a passionate kiss. I’d thought briefly that perhaps our relationship could be bloom into something beyond friendship.
But the very next day, two dark-suited men showed up looking for him; they claimed that Stone had betrayed his team during a covert mission in Afghanistan, and somehow, they tracked him down to Vegas. Stone went underground, while I desperately searched for answers–answers that Stone's former CIA handler, known only as Johnson, finally offered me.
It turned out that Stone hadn't been the one to betray his team of three people working out of Kabul. Instead, a man named Eli Cohen had betrayed Stone and the other team member, an Afghan man named Tariq.
After some investigation and a great deal of dogged persistence, we discovered that Tariq had recently arrived in the US, and that with his help, Stone could finally clear his name–and maybe even come out of hiding.
It was an understatement to say that I was excited by the prospect of clearing Stone's name.
When I saw Stone standing there in front of me, my first instinct was to rush forward and give him a hug. But Stone is a man who lives up to his name–he’s silent, unemotional, and stoic. I wasn't sure my hug would be welcomed.
Instead, I settled on saying, "How’ve you been?"
In the darkness of the alley, I could barely make out Stone's black eyes glimmering. Stubble covered his angular jaw, and he looked relaxed but wary.
Zombie Cash Run in Las Vegas Page 10