I wasn't so certain. I glanced around nervously, and Ian gave me an encouraging grin.
"Okay," I said. "I suppose I'm investigating this case now."
A small cheer broke out, and then one of the police officers came into the room. "I'll need to take all your details," he said. "And then, we'll start talking to you each, one by one."
Ian and I exchanged a glance. We were both thinking the same thing—we’d need to get started on our investigation as soon as we could. Who would want to kill Brenna, and why would they kill her on a reality TV set?
Chapter 8
A third officer had joined the two I’d seen earlier, and they took down the details of everyone in the room. Once I'd given them my information, I went out in search of Ryan.
I found him hovering near the door to Brenna's room watching as two CSI techs were dusting for fingerprints and details.
His eyes flashed with a worried look when my gaze met his, and he frowned. He stopped short of saying something rude and cop-like, but I knew that he was worried about looking professional.
I forced myself to say in a polite, slightly formal voice, "Detective Dimitriou, I wonder if I could have a word in private with you."
He nodded curtly at me, and told the CSI techs that he'd be back in a minute or two, and then we walked over to Ian's room.
"What's this about?" he said, shutting the door behind himself. "Do you know something?"
I shook my head and glanced off to one side. Suddenly, this conversation seemed much more difficult than I’d thought it would be.
"Did you just want to get me in a small room by yourself?" Ryan teased, sounding like himself for a minute.
I looked back up at him and sighed. "Dave hired me to investigate Brenna's death."
Ryan's face darkened. "Did you tell him that the police are fully capable and don't need meddling from a third party?"
I bit back my first response, which was to snap, I don't meddle!
Instead, I took a deep breath, and said, "It wasn't my idea. I don't want to step on your toes."
Ryan frowned, and then his face broke into a grin. "I can see why Elwood’s always complaining about you and Ian bugging him on cases."
I smiled wanly. "I suppose so. I don't want to bother you–it's just–I don't think Dave really wanted to hire me either. But a bunch of people in the room seemed to want him to take some kind of action, so maybe hiring me is his way of showing to his team that he's trying to get things moving."
Ryan nodded. "That makes sense. I know he wouldn't think that a PI would find things out where cops can't."
Again, I had to stifle down the annoyance that bubbled up inside me. "People sometimes tell investigators things that they don't tell cops. Sometimes they don't like cops, or they're scared of talking to them."
"And I know that some PIs have ‘unorthodox’ methods. As long as you don't tamper with police evidence, or do anything to obstruct the investigation."
My patience was wearing thin. "You know I wouldn't ever do anything like that."
Ryan nodded, and his gaze softened. "Of course, I just had to make the official policy clear. Now, maybe we can make better use of a minute alone before I have to get back to work?"
Despite my conversation with Ryan ending on a rather upbeat note–I hadn't minded that long, intense kiss that we'd shared–I was still a bit worried about how to proceed with the case without getting in Ryan's way.
And then I gave myself a shake. There had been a couple of cases where Ian and I had investigated, despite the LVMPD doing the same thing, and we’d managed to do our work and solve the case. Sure, Detective Elwood had been in charge of those cases and hadn't been pleased with us being around, but he'd learned to live with it. Ryan would do the same.
Ian came back to his room a few minutes after Ryan had left.
"Do you have a copy of your PI contract with you?"
I nodded. "I always keep one in my bag. We'd better go talk to Dave, and see what exactly he expects us to do.”
Ian and I headed over to Dave's room, where we found him sitting on a sofa with Taylor right beside him, sobbing away.
I couldn't help but think that Taylor’s waterworks had gone on for long enough.
I'd seen the same thing she had. But maybe her prolonged reaction was caused by the shock of her unexpected discovery. Maybe investigating murders had made me more cynical than the average person who walks onto a dead body.
"Taylor’s still upset," Dave said, stating the obvious. "Everyone's had a big shock."
But nobody else was bawling non-stop like Taylor. For a moment, I wondered if this could all be an act. If Taylor had wanted to be on TV, she'd learn how to be a good actress, and perhaps she could turn on the crying at will. After all, she'd been the one who'd "discovered" Brenna’s body–maybe she hadn’t stumbled onto the crime scene. Maybe she was the mastermind behind it.
"I was just leaving," Taylor sniffed, standing up and delicately dabbing at her tears. "Thank you for listening to me," she said to Dave.
She gave me and Ian a sad smile, and then headed away.
"I hope this isn't a bad time," I said to Dave. "Ian and I are here to talk about the case."
"Of course," Dave said. "I said I'd hire you to look into this whole thing. And now I will."
Something about his words rubbed me the wrong way; it was as if Dave was admitting that he'd never meant to hire me.
But I'd committed to this now–I'd already had a difficult chat with Ryan about the whole thing, and I'd mentally steeled myself for the work ahead. I wasn't going to let Dave get away with promises of hiring me just to appease his staff, and then backing out of actually hiring me.
"This is my contract for PI services," I said, handing him my contract, and a pen. "You see that everything is pretty standard–once you've read through, just sign and date at the bottom."
Dave nodded, glanced through the thing, and then signed with a flourish. "I can pay you a check to cover the advance, and maybe some of the expenses you’ll have."
I tried to hide my surprise at how quickly he'd agreed to the whole thing. I'd been expecting him to make some kind of excuse for not hiring me–but maybe he didn't want to lose face in front of his staff. "I want to get started right away," I said. "I know you're in a hurry to get back to working."
The mask of confident friendliness dissolved, and Dave stared at me, his eyes despairing. "I need to get the show up and running on time, or the network’s going to cancel. It's going to be an expensive venture, and if this thing fails, it's not just that I’ll have lost money–the whole industry will think I can't put on a good show. Which means I'll probably never get work again."
"So, no pressure then," Ian joked.
I was thankful for Ian's constant cheeriness, and I smiled at him. Dave smiled too, but there was a hint of sadness still lingering on his face.
"It's a brutal industry," he said. "Some days, I wish I'd never gone into this business, but then other times, I think how amazing it’ll be when things work out."
I felt a pang of sympathy for Dave, and nodded. "We may as well get started. I'll need to know about Brenna, and about the people who are working with you on this show."
Dave took a deep breath, and forced a confident smile. "Of course. But I need you to know, there's no way anyone on my team could have done something like this."
"I appreciate your loyalty, but I still need to look into everyone."
"Sure, but I don't want you spooking them or scaring them off. I know everyone who’s on set today, and they're all great people. Most of my staff have either worked with me for a long time, or they've been working on well-known reality TV shows. They're well respected in the industry."
"But that doesn't mean you know them very well," I said patiently. "Besides, who else could’ve gotten to Brenna's room other than the people who were backstage today?"
Dave shook his head rapidly and leaned forward. "There’s an entrance at the back that isn't mo
nitored. It's not something we like to admit, but we got this place at a discount, and we don't have funds lying around to hire security for every single entrance."
"So," I said hesitantly, "you're saying that someone could’ve snuck in through this back entrance?"
Dave nodded.
"But who would bother to do something like that?" said Ian. "You’d have to actually know about the back entrance, and then you’d have to know where Brenna's room was."
"Maybe it was someone Brenna knew," Dave said. "Maybe she told them about the entrance, or maybe they found out somehow. Maybe she told this person where her room was."
I had to admit that an outsider entering the building and killing Brenna did seem more likely than someone on the show killing her. She would’ve met everyone on the show for the first time today, but most killers know their victims well. I couldn't understand why someone on the show would kill her–but I had to stay open to all options.
"Even if you did know all the staff here," Ian was saying, "you didn't know the other contestants. Perhaps one of them wanted to kill Brenna."
"They've got no reason to want that," Dave said, sounding slightly defensive.
I turned my gaze to him, wondering what he was trying to hide. "But you're saying that none of the staff would kill Brenna because you knew them from before, or they’re well-known in the industry. How can you say the same things about the other contestants? You wouldn't even have met them before today."
Dave looked slightly guilty. "Actually, I met everyone for a few minutes beforehand, just to make sure they'd be a good fit with the show."
Ian's eyes widened. "So, me and Tiff weren’t the only ones you met?"
Dave shook his head, no.
"Isn't that a breach of ethics or something?"
Dave shrugged. "Not really. As long as I'm not giving them insider info or something like that–and even if I were, who cares? The show isn’t even on air yet. But no, I definitely wasn't giving anyone insider info, and it's all above board. I met the other people for a few minutes, just to make sure they had enough personality to be on the show."
"Isn't that what video applications are for?"
Dave nodded. "But I've got a lot riding on this show, I can't take any chances."
"And did you meet any of these other contestants’ friends as well?"
Dave looked at me and smiled, his old, charming smile. "No. I asked to meet you, Tiffany, because I've seen your video of that dance audition. I thought you had personality and flair to be on TV, and I wanted to persuade you to join the show. I still do–once all this is sorted out, it's going to be a great show, and a great opportunity for you."
I mentally rolled my eyes at the thought that he was still trying to persuade me to join his project, but I ignored his comment instead of repeating to him that I wasn't interested in reality TV.
"Did you learn anything interesting from these contestants when you met them?"
"No. You guys were the people I took the longest with. Everyone else, I just met them for a few minutes in the hotel lobby–enough time to ask them how they were, whether they were excited about the show or not. I didn't try to get to know them on a personal level–all I wanted was to make sure they'd look good on TV. Once I was certain they would–and it only took about a minute's worth of conversation to make sure–I said I needed to rush off to another appointment, and I left."
"So you didn't learn anything at all about these contestants?"
Dave shook his head. "No. They all said they were excited about the show, and they hoped they would win–but pretty much every contestant says that. Maybe they even believe it too."
"Would they kill another contestant to try to make sure they weren’t left out?" Ian said.
"That's probably going a bit too far," Dave said with a smile. "I want everyone to be excited about winning, but I don't think anyone would literally kill to be a winner."
I smiled and nodded politely, but I knew that I'd have to go and talk to the other contestants soon, and the show's grand prize of two-hundred thousand wasn't anything to scoff at. People had been killed for less, and if someone was really motivated about being on TV, and getting all the other benefits that came along with the cash prize–popularity, fame, the potential for more TV shows and publicity–then perhaps they would actually go ahead and kill for it.
"What about Brenna herself?" I said. "What did you think of her?"
Dave looked off thoughtfully into the distance. "I thought she was great. She was pretty enough to be likable, but not so pretty that the female viewers would hate her. She seemed to be intelligent, and driven–and she had a nice, sweet personality. I thought she could be one of the underdogs of the show."
"What about as a person? What did she seem like?"
Dave shrugged. "You know, the usual. She seemed pretty normal."
"Other than wanting to be on a reality TV show," I quipped.
Dave laughed, not taking offense at my statement. "People want to be on shows like this for various reasons. Some people want the money, some people want the fame, some just want to have a bit of fun. That doesn't make them odd."
I smiled back at him, but I wasn't convinced. "And what about the other contestants? What's your opinion of them?"
Dave glanced at Ian, and then back at me. "They all seem like a normal people. This is just the first round, so everybody's pretty chilled out. It's only when the show gets going that some people turn aggressive."
"And nobody seemed aggressive to you at this stage?"
Dave shook his head, no. "Like I said, all the contestants were quite average, but they would've looked good on TV."
"And did Brenna seem to get along with everyone?"
Dave nodded quickly, but he looked away for a split second before answering. "Yeah, of course."
Most liars don't look at you when they fib, and I thought that Dave's looking off to the side before answering was a bit shifty. "Are you sure? There was no one she might have had a run-in with, no matter how minor?"
This time, Dave smiled broadly. "I’m sure. Everyone seemed to like her.”
I hesitated. Dave had no reason to lie; maybe I was misreading the situation. But I had to make sure he wasn’t hiding anything. "Look, if you want me to investigate this death, you need to tell me the truth. I can't have you lying to me, or trying to hide the truth. If you had nothing to do with her death, then just tell me the truth–who did Brenna not get along with?"
Dave’s smile was looking a little forced now. "I've already told you. Brenna got along with everyone. I might be wrong, but I'm not God, and I don't know everything."
I decided that I wouldn't get anything more out of him, so I moved on. "Do you know anything about Brenna's personal life? Was she married, or did she have a boyfriend or some long-term relationship?"
Dave pulled up something on his phone. "All the candidates give us a detailed bio and talked a lot about their personal lives when they applied for a spot on the show. Here's what Brenna said–she wasn't in a relationship, and she’d never had a long-term boyfriend. Her dad died when she was twelve, and her mom died a few years ago. She grew up in a small town in Missouri, and she and her brother Jake moved to Vegas a few years ago. Jake works at Eddie's Car Shop, and Brenna works–used to work–at Scott's Bistro. And then it goes on to talk about her schooling and childhood, but that's it. Nothing more about her family or relationships."
"So it couldn't have been a husband or boyfriend," I mused out loud. "Usually, the spouse is the first suspect."
"Maybe she had an angry ex-boyfriend," Ian suggested. "Do you know if she had any angry exes out there?"
Dave shook his head. "We never talked about it, and her application didn't say anything about it."
"If it was one of the other contestants that did it," I said out loud, "it would probably be one of the two who didn't get through–Clayton or Taylor. We should go talk to them next."
Dave shook his head vehemently. "I'm sure neither of thos
e two had anything to do with it."
"How can you be so sure?"
Again, Dave glanced off to one side. "I've got a knack for picking people. I'm sure none of the other contestants would be a killer."
I wasn't convinced by his argument, and I felt like he knew something more than he was letting on.
"Did you talk to one of the contestants for a bit longer before the show? Or even after the show? We take client confidentiality really seriously," I said. "We won't tell anyone if you did have a long chat with one of the other contestants."
I sensed a hint of annoyance behind Dave’s forced-looking smile. "Really, I've told you everything that I can. Did you need to know anything else before you start the investigation?"
I pursed my lips, trying to figure out why I felt so sure that Dave was hiding something.
Maybe it was just his personality that grated on me, and maybe he wasn't trying to hide anything after all. It was probably not a good idea to annoy the client who had hired you, and I didn’t think there was any way Dave could actually be the killer–even if he’d wanted to kill Brenna, he would’ve gone far away from the set and killed her off-site, so that the show's production wouldn't be halted. No, there was no way he could’ve killed Brenna himself.
"The cops haven’t interviewed you yet, have they?" Ian asked.
Dave shook his head. "I think they're just getting everyone's details now, and they're going to talk to us each individually soon."
"Brenna was killed some time before lunch," I said. "There couldn't have been more than an hour between the time that she stopped talking to us to go off and call her friend, and the time that the three of us stepped into the hallway to get some lunch. So where were you when Brenna was killed?"
Dave smiled, not looking worried. "You mean, do I have an alibi?"
I grinned and shook my head. "Of course not, that's ridiculous. You hired us to look into the case, so you can't be a killer. I'm just wondering what you'll tell the police when they ask you. Because, of course they will. They have to ask everyone."
Zombie Cash Run in Las Vegas: A Lighthearted Tiffany Black Mystery (Tiffany Black Mysteries Book 12) Page 5
