Zombie Cash Run in Las Vegas

by WINTERS, A. R.

  "Anyway, I remember her. She asked to speak to Kyle Chandlers, and something—maybe her body language? Or the way she said his full name?—told me they didn't know each other. So I told her to wait outside, and then I got Kyle."

  "Did you hear what they talked about?"

  "No, but I was curious, so I hung around. Kyle stepped outside, and closed the door behind him, so I couldn’t hear what he said. But he came back a minute later, and his face looked all dark and stormy. He looked at me, and said that she'd gotten confused, and was looking for someone else."

  "And you never saw her again?"

  "No, and Kyle never mentioned her again, either. I'd almost forgotten the whole thing, until you mentioned her. Why is Kyle looking for her?"

  "He's got something that belongs to her," I fibbed. "It's too bad you don't know anything more about her."

  "If you're trying to track her down," Margaret said slowly, "Kyle's ex-girlfriend Carol might know. She was here the night Brenna showed up."

  My heart quickened. "Did Carol and Brenna ever talk to each other?"

  "I don’t know, but you could always ask Carol herself. Kyle and she broke up, but I'm sure Carol would be willing to help out–maybe."

  I nodded rapidly, even though Margaret couldn’t see me, and asked for Carol's phone number and address. Margaret said she didn't know her address or phone number, but she could tell me that Carol's full name was Carol Whittaker, and that she used to be a barista at the Blue Lagoon Café.

  "I'm sorry I couldn't be much more help," Margaret said. "But maybe Kyle knows where Carol is staying these days."

  "Maybe he does," I said. "I’ll go ask him. You've really been a great help."

  After I hung up, I headed back to my apartment, fired up my laptop, and found out Carol's phone number and address. She was living in an apartment in LA, and her profession was listed as being a barista at the Blue Lagoon Café.

  I turned to Ian. "Seems like Bruce was telling us the truth about Brenna going up to Kyle's house. What was all that about?"

  "We can go try to talk to Carol," Ian suggested. "I wouldn't mind taking a trip to LA."

  Chapter 29

  I let Ian drag me back to the Riverbelle casino, where we met Dave again.

  Ian told him about Kyle's non-meeting with Brenna, and Dave listened, his face a study of surprise and disappointment.

  When we finished telling him the brief version of what we'd learned, he said, "But Kyle has such a good reputation in the industry. That's why I hired him–he’s professional, and most of his shows go on to be successes."

  "And he's the one who convinced you to hire us," I added.

  "I would’ve hired you guys anyway," Dave said, but I thought his voice lacked conviction.

  "I'm not sure what's going on," I admitted, "but I think we should go and check it out."

  "Kyle said he could talk to you guys tomorrow–is that what you're going to do?"

  Ian said, "I don't think we'll be able to get the truth out of Kyle. He lied about knowing Brenna from before, and he even lied about knowing Bruce."

  "Probably because if he admitted to knowing Bruce, then he'd have to admit to what happened between him and Brenna," I said.

  Dave said, "So, what's the plan?"

  "If you want us to do this right," Ian said, "we need to go to LA to talk to his ex-girlfriend Carol. She might know something. Of course, she might not know anything at all. We’re just going off a hunch that perhaps Kyle told her something because they were together."

  "She might not know anything at all," Dave repeated.

  I shrugged. "We thought we should tell you everything–if you want to do this right, I highly recommend that we fly over to LA ASAP, to find out what's going on."

  "But you're not supposed to be flying out of Vegas."

  Ian shook his head. "Everyone with an alibi got a text from the LVMPD saying that they could leave if they wanted to. Hasn't your crew mentioned this to you already?"

  Dave looked at us vaguely. "In that case, you should go to LA."

  "Last-minute tickets shouldn’t be that expensive," I said.

  Dave shook his head. "I've got a plane sitting here, coming to no use. Take the jet, that way, you can get to LA tonight, and maybe fly back before tomorrow morning."

  I was just about to say, "But I've got a shift at the casino," when Ian said, "That sounds great!"

  I exchanged a glance with Ian. He had clearly known what I was about to say, and had stopped me in time. I smiled gratefully. Of course it was worth canceling my shift in order to get to LA and figure out what was going on with Kyle.

  "We'll set out as soon as we can," I told Dave. "Even if Carol doesn't know anything, you’ll be sure we tried our best."

  Ian beamed at me, and I smiled back. I couldn’t help but feel optimistic—surely Carol would know something, and we’d finally get closer to the truth about what happened to Brenna.

  Chapter 30

  Ian and I headed home, where we each quickly packed an overnight bag.

  Before we knew it, we'd gone to the private airplane section of McCarran Airport, and were boarding Dave's Gulfstream. I'd been through this area a couple of times before, but I pushed those memories aside, and tried to focus on the task at hand.

  Dave's Gulfstream was fitted out with cream leather seats and a long sofa which ran along one aisle. It was a lovely plane, and Ian said, "I could get used to this."

  I shook my head. "Don't. It never lasts."

  Soon after we got onto the plane, the pilot began take-off procedures, and Ian and I buckled our seat belts and sat back until the plane was airborne.

  Dave had already texted me before we boarded the flight to let me know that he'd arranged for a car to be at the airport to take me and Ian wherever we wanted to go.

  Ian and I chatted a bit about what kind of person Carol might turn out to be; she was still working as a barista at the Blue Lagoon Café, but I assumed her shift would have ended by now.

  Halfway through the flight, Ian announced that he was hungry. I remembered we hadn't eaten anything since our lunch with Nanna and Dave, so the two of us headed toward the kitchenette at the back of the plane.

  We found freshly made sandwiches, muffins and drinks, and we each grabbed a sandwich and a muffin, with a mug of hot coffee. If Carol was at home and would agree to talk to us, we needed to be wide awake and alert.

  "Are you going to let Ryan know that we’re off to talk to Carol?"

  I shrugged, and guilt churned in my stomach. "I should've told him about all this before we got on the plane. But we were in such a rush to get going, I didn’t have a chance to call him. And if I call him from LA he’ll be pretty angry."

  "You're just making excuses."

  "Okay, so I am trying to avoid conflict," I admitted. "Maybe Ryan doesn't have to find out about this. He'll learn about Kyle and Brenna when he talks to Bruce, and then he’ll go talk to Kyle."

  "You don't think you're hiding info from the cops?"

  I shook my head. "No." And then I hesitated. "Okay, maybe technically I am, a little. But I don't want this case to get between me and Ryan."

  Ian looked like he was about to say something, but then he closed his mouth, and looked out the window. I could sense that he didn't approve of keeping this a secret from Ryan, but I didn't know what else to do. If I told Ryan that we’d embarked on a possible wild goose chase to LA, then we’d have a big fight, and I didn't want to deal with that right now.

  It was just after eight pm when the plane landed in LA, and Ian and I found the chauffeur Dave had arranged, waiting to pick us up.

  "This is convenient," I said, as the car drove us over to Carol's house. "We don't have to book a hotel and unpack or anything. If Carol is at home and agrees to talk to us, we can just have a chat, board the plane again, and head back to Vegas."

  "And what if she doesn't want to talk to us?"

  "I'm not sure what we’ll do," I admitted. "I'm hoping we can persuade her
to be helpful, but if she doesn't want to help, maybe we'll stay here one night and see if she changes her mind in the morning."

  The address I'd gotten for Carol turned out to be a block of apartments in South Whittier. Ian and I climbed the steps to her apartment nervously, and my heart beat loudly with trepidation.

  The night air was chilly, and I worried that Carol might have gone out to dinner. Or perhaps she'd taken on a second job that hadn't appeared in the database yet.

  But within a few seconds of our knock, I heard the sound of footsteps shuffling toward the door.

  A woman with dark brown hair, dark eyes and a button nose opened the door.

  She was wearing pajamas, and her hair was pulled into a messy bun. She looked at us in surprise and frowned. "Yes?"

  I quickly handed her my business card and said, "I'm Tiffany Black, and this is Ian. We’re private investigators. Are you Carol Whittaker?"

  Carol looked from my card to me. "Yes, what's this about?"

  Her eyes looked worried, and I knew she was concerned that a loved one might be in trouble.

  "It's nothing to do with you personally," I said quickly, trying to reassure her that all was well with her friends and family. "But we're trying to find out something about a man you once dated. Kyle Chandlers?"

  Carol nodded. "Is he in trouble?"

  "I'm not sure. I don't want to bother you, but could we come inside and have a talk? This shouldn't take more than a minute or two."

  Carol seemed to consider for a minute, and then she nodded, and led us inside. Her apartment was sparsely furnished, but it looked clean, and all her furniture seemed to be vintage mid-century-modern-style pieces. Ian and I sat down on the sofa, and Carol sat on one of the love seats opposite.

  "What's he gotten into this time?" she said.

  I took a deep breath. “I'm not really sure he's involved personally. But I thought perhaps we should check something out. I wonder if you've heard about the murder of a contestant on the reality TV show, Zombie Cash Run?"

  Carol shook her head. "I don't keep up with showbiz news anymore."

  "The show isn't airing yet, but the first few episodes were being shot. Anyway, Kyle is a consultant on the show, and it turns out he'd met the victim on a previous reality show where he also consulted."

  Carol narrowed her eyes. "What show?"

  "Ready, Aim, Cook."

  Carol shrugged. "That must've been a while ago. Kyle and I broke up six months back. Why would I know anything about it?"

  "The girl that was killed–Brenna–she showed up at Kyle's house one day. This would’ve been about nine months ago. Kyle's housekeeper tells us that you were at home that day."

  Carol was frowning, trying to remember.

  I went on, "Kyle stepped outside, talked to her for a few minutes, and then she left. Afterward, Kyle told his housekeeper that Brenna had gotten confused, and that maybe she had the wrong address."

  Carol's face cleared. "I remember that! The housekeeper came in and told Kyle that a woman named Brenna was there to talk to him, and then Kyle got up quickly and left the room.

  “I was wondering why he didn't invite her in, and the way he dashed out made me think that he knew her. I thought he was trying to hide something from me. He told me that she'd just gotten confused, and that they didn't know each other, but I didn't believe it–if he really didn't know her, he wouldn't have rushed out like that." Carol laughed. "In fact, I was a bit worried he'd gotten someone pregnant, and they were coming after him for child support."

  "That seems like an odd thing to worry about."

  Carol smiled sheepishly. "Maybe I was being a bit paranoid, but you hear things like that, especially in LA. I think around that time, Kyle and I had been together for three years. I was wondering why he wouldn't pop the question, and I thought maybe he had someone on the side."

  "Did he?"

  Carol shook her head. "Turns out, he's just one of those perpetual bachelors. After I started asking him if there would ever be anything more between the two of us, he finally admitted there wouldn't. That was three years of my life down the drain. I'm not sure why I stayed with him for so long, the writing was on the wall, and then, when it was time to break up, he was a complete jackass."

  Her eyes clouded over with memories of that time. "He made my life a living hell, and he tried to turn some of my friends against me. I lost a few of our couple friends–we'd been together that long. My life changed after we broke up."

  Ian said, "Sounds like you're still mad at him."

  The dark look in Carol's eyes stayed put. "You could say that. The worst thing is, I was such an idiot for so long. I should've realized what kind of person he was–of course, I know now, but it's too late."

  "Did you ask Kyle about Brenna again?"

  Carol nodded. "I really thought she was pregnant, and I asked him again–maybe two or three times. But each time, he kept repeating his story that she'd gotten confused. He told me he didn't know her, and that she was probably going to a party in The Hills, and that maybe she'd gotten drunk or high. He kept repeating that he didn't know her."

  "So you never actually found out what was going on?"

  Carol grinned. "Oh no, I found out. Of course, I was such an idiot that I didn't believe it at first."

  "How did you find out?"

  Carol looked down at her lap, and inspected her fingernails. When she looked up again, she said, "Can I get either of you guys something to drink? Maybe some wine, or some tea?"

  I felt as though she was looking for an excuse to drink, so I said, "I don't usually drink when I'm at work, but I wouldn't mind some wine."

  Carol nodded, and headed to the kitchenette a few steps away.

  She opened a cabinet door, pulled out a bottle of red, and poured out three glasses. Ian and I walked over, picked up a drink each, and then Carol followed us back to the living room. When we were finally seated again, Carol took a long sip of her drink, and said, "Brenna found me, and she tried to talk to me. I have to admit, I was pretty rude to her. I feel bad about it now, but you have to see–at the time, I thought maybe she was just a slightly obsessed fan, trying to get some cash."

  I took a small sip of my drink, and waited while Carol finished half her glass.

  "You didn't have any way of knowing the truth," I said reassuringly.

  Carol nodded. "And you say now–she's been killed? Does Kyle have anything to do with this?"

  "I don't know," I said honestly. "I don't even know what happened between him and Brenna. You say Brenna found you?"

  Carol nodded. "The next day–the day after she came by Kyle's house–I didn't have a shift at work. So, I stayed that night at Kyle's place, and the next morning, I drove over to my favorite café over on Greenleaf Avenue. I have no idea how Brenna found me, but right after my food arrived, she showed up."

  I raised one eyebrow. "That can't have been a coincidence."

  Carol shook her head. “Looking back, I think, maybe she showed up at Kyle's house in the morning, and followed me out? Anyway, all I knew was that I was having a sip of my turmeric latte, and this woman comes out of the blue and introduces herself. She says that she knows Kyle, and she needs my help. Again, I was pretty worried that she was after Kyle for child support–she didn't look pregnant. But what she told me was that Kyle had ripped off her and her family, and she wanted him to admit the truth."

  "How would Kyle have ripped off her and her family?"

  "Brenna told me that her dad had been a writer, except he'd never had any of his work published. Just before he died, he'd written a science fiction story–and Kyle stole it and published it. That was the first book Kyle had ever published, the one that made Kyle a bestseller. Brenna told me that it wasn't his. He'd stolen it from her dad, and she wanted him to admit the truth. She went on and on about how she didn't want any money–she just wanted her dad's legacy to be protected."

  There was silence for a few long seconds. We each sipped our drinks, and Carol p
olished off her glass.

  Finally, Ian said, "That sounds like a crazy story."

  Carol nodded. "That's what I thought at the time. I told her to get lost, but she wouldn't, and as I sat in the café, I worried that maybe she was a nut job, and she’d try to hurt me. I told her I'd talk to Kyle, and try to persuade him to talk to her.”

  “And did you?”

  “No. She gave me her phone number, and asked me to do my best. I told her I would, but I just threw her phone number away."

  "She must've been waiting for you to call her for a few months," I mused out loud.

  Carol nodded. "I know, but I'd thrown her phone number away. I couldn’t call her even if I wanted to."

  "But you never really believed her story, did you?"

  Carol shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She poured herself another drink, and sipped it thoughtfully. "I didn't at first," she said slowly. “And then one day, I asked Kyle if it was true that he hadn't written the first book he'd ever published. Kyle looked at me really shocked, and asked where I'd heard that. I don't know–something about his response seemed off. I didn't feel like telling him about Brenna, so I said that I was just wondering. I said I'd read some of his later work, and the writing styles were different."

  "What did Kyle say to that?"

  "He said he used ghostwriters to write the later books, and I knew that was true–I'd heard him talking on the phone with the publishing company about the ghostwriters."

  "But ghostwriters usually mimic the author’s voice, and you can’t tell them apart."

  "I know, but I couldn’t think of how else to tell him that I'd heard the rumor. So I never asked him again."

  "Which means, you’ve got no way of knowing if Brenna’s story was true or not."

  Carol shook her head. "A few weeks later, we went to an Oscar's after-party, and Kyle got really drunk. I wasn't that drunk, but when we came home, Kyle was in a great mood, and he just wouldn't stop talking. I remembered Brenna, and asked him if he'd really written the first book he'd ever published. Kyle just laughed, and said that he was blessed, and that God works in mysterious ways. That he’d had a great life, and he couldn't have had it if he’d depended on his own writing skills."