The Dead Don't Speak (10 page)

Chris sipped his cup of dark roast while scanning the Police section of the Las Vegas Herald. There was no mention of the hit and run, nor Cassandra's disappearance. However, there was a short piece in the Entertainment section about Simon Simmons' humiliation at the hands of an unknown child. The piece described the scene, based on second-hand information, as, "a Wizard of Oz-type revelation, in which a diminutive audience member whisked the curtain aside revealing the beloved Las Vegas showman to be a fraud." The piece went on to mention the boy's last name was Hepson.

That's interesting.

Chris reflected on the headline, amazed at how awful a single day could be. Then he thought of Cassandra, who was probably buzzard food by now, and decided he was glad neither bad day was his own.

With this selfishness in his mind, Chris pulled out his cell phone. He brought up Daphne Carter's contact and hit Send. The ringing sound of an outgoing call hummed in Chris's ear.

"Daphne Carter's office," a female voice answered. "Shelly speaking."

"Hi, Shelly, this is Simon Simmons' manager, Chris. I'm trying to reach Daphne about a deal we've been working on."

"I'm sorry, but Daphne's not going to be in the office today."

"Oh? She asked me to call her."

"I'm sorry, sir. She hasn't left me any instructions about it," Shelly said.

"Nothing, huh? Must have been in a heck of a hurry. I hope everything's okay."

There was a hesitation. Chris said, "When do you expect Daphne back?" Asking her a question she probably had an answer to would get the woman comfortable again.

"We expect her back in a few days."

"Ugh. A few days. I was really hoping to get this thing sewn up. Do you have a contact number for her? Either I could give her a call or, if it's a personal matter keeping her out, when she checks in could you have her call me?"

"You said this call was regarding Simon Simmons, correct?" Shelly asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I will have you contact Dylan Tovak, our DOE," Shelly gave Chris the extension.

"Thank you, Shelly," Chris said.

"You're welcome, sir. Have a nice day."

"You, too," Chris said and hung up.

So, she wasn't at the office. Shelly didn't sound convinced about when Daphne would return. Could the girl, Sarah, be alive?

"Let's find out," Chris said to himself.

He looked up the phone number for Spring Valley Hospital, the closest one to Camelot. Chris grabbed a throw away cell phone and dialed.

"Good morning. Spring Valley Hospital, Shawna speaking," a young woman answered.

"Good morning, Shawna. My name is Jack Howard, and I am a detective with Las Vegas Metro. I am looking for information on a patient you admitted last night. She would have come in through the ER, name's Carter, Sarah."

"One moment, please."

Chris heard a click, then ringing; he'd been transferred.

"ICU," a woman answered.

Chris hung up the phone saying, "Shit!"

*****

Dylan Tovak sipped a latte as he sat in his office, trying to get his morning off to a good start, when his cell phone rang. He leaned forward in his Fritz Hansen Oxford chair to check the ID. He didn't recognize the number. Dylan considered not answering but something told him he should. It could be Barry Sulkin from the Las Vegas Herald calling to thank him for the information on Simon Simmons' humiliation.

Dylan answered his phone, "Hello?"

"Is this Dylan Tovak?" A female voice with a southern accent asked. Dylan smiled.

"This is. Am I speaking with the lovely Margaret?"

"Yes. Walter's here, too."

"Hi there, Walter," Dylan said.

"Hello, Mr. Tovak."

Margaret spoke for the couple, "We're calling to ask a favor."

"What might that be?" Dylan asked.

"Walter and I are going to tie the knot later today and we'd like a couple rooms at Versailles. One for us and one for the kids. We thought maybe you could arrange somethin' like that for us. And while we're there we can talk about Zach's future."

"Tell you what, Mrs. Hepson, you give me ten minutes and I'll call you back. I think I can help you."

"Much appreciated," Margaret said.

Dylan pressed End.

Next, he picked up his office phone and called the front desk.

"Front desk," a young man answered. "Julian speaking."

"Julian, this is Dylan Tovak calling. I need to comp a couple rooms for a couple nights. It'd be great if we could make one a suite."

"Let me check here..." Julian trailed off. "We have a lot of suites open, no problem there, but few standard rooms. Do the rooms need to be adjoining?"

"Nah. They don't even have to be on the same floor."

"Easy enough, Mr. Tovak. What name should they be reserved under?"

"Walter and Margaret Hepson. And I'd appreciate it very much if they weren't hassled about ID or a credit card."

"Not a problem." There was a pause. "All set. Rooms are booked for tonight and tomorrow.”

"Thank you Julian."

"Can I ask you a question, Mr. Tovak?"

"Shoot."

"Is this the same Hepson from the Simon Simmons show last night?"

Dylan smiled, "I will go so far as to say that I can't say. That should answer your question."

"It does Mr. Tovak. Thank you."

"What time does your shift end, Julian?"

"Another five hours, sir."

"You know where my office is?"

"I do, sir."

"Stop by when you're done. If I'm not here, stick around, I shouldn't be gone long. I'll tell Molly you're coming."

"I will, sir. Thank you."

"Thank you, Julian," Dylan hung up. Bright kid, Dylan could find a better use for him than booking reservations.

*****

The cell phone vibrated on the tiny table. Margaret and Walter were seated on the bench it folded into when not in use. She answered the call and put it on speaker.

"Mr. Tovak," she said.

"Mrs. Hepson, I've got some good news."

"Tell us about it."

"You're expected tonight at Versailles. There was a slight problem however..."

"What's that?" Walter barked. Problems from this guy already?

"We are running a little short on standard rooms," Dylan paused for effect. "So I got you a suite instead."

"Why Dylan Tovak, you are a charmer," Margaret said. Walter shot her a look, but she missed it.

"All part of the job," Dylan said. "So tonight, when you arrive, tell the front desk you're Walter and Margaret Hepson. Our staff will show you to your suite and the kids to their room. I will touch base with you tomorrow about Zach's future with us."

"Sounds good," Walter said, not wanting to let Margaret speak. "We'll see ya tomorrow." He reached across Margaret and pressed the End button before more could be said.

"What's the matter with you?" Margaret asked.

"Don't like you talkin' to other men that way. If you wanna be my wife, that'll stop."

Margaret gave Walter a long look. Her contempt for the man from the mountains of Pennsylvania glittered in her eyes.

"My husband used to speak to me that way. I won't have it."

"Be a good wife and you won't hear it again. Go flirtin' like a whore with 'nother man on the phone and you'll hear it."

"Y'ever call me a whore again an' I'll rip your nuts up through your mouth," Margaret said in a return to her trailer park roots.

Zach and Cayte sat eight feet from this, listening with their backs to Walter and Margaret. They were seated in the very front of the RV, Cayte behind the wheel and Zach riding shotgun. They looked at each other, both scared the argument might escalate into a something more violent.

It didn't though, quite the opposite.

"Kids, why don't you take a walk? Go explore the Strip a little. Take some pictures," Margaret said.

Cayte and Zach exited the RV without a word to their parents or each other.

"Mr. Walter Hepson, get your ass in that bed. Now!" Margaret said.

*****

Julian Richson approached the woman seated outside Dylan Tovak's office.

"Molly?" He said.

"That's right. May I help you?"

"My name's Julian Richson. I work at the front desk. Mr. Tovak asked me to stop by when my shift ended and, well, my shift has ended."

Molly took in the man with her eyes. He was tall with a complexion like rich mahogany. He looked to be athletic under the ridiculous French Peasant costume the hotel made him wear. Molly smiled.

The girl was pretty, a redhead with bright green eyes and a slight build. Julian thought she looked like Amy Adams.

"Please have a seat. I’ll see if Mr. Tovak is available." Molly rose and went into Tovak's office after giving a soft knock. Julian watched her until the door closed.

"Damn," he said.

Molly reappeared a moment later, "Mr. Tovak's ready for you."

Julian went into the office. The door closed on its own.

"So, you're Julian Richson," Dylan Tovak said.

"Yes, sir."

"You read that piece in the Las Vegas Herald?"

Julian figured he meant the Simon Simmons piece he'd referenced over the phone, "That's right. I try to stay current."

"Have a seat," Dylan said motioning to either of the leather covered chairs opposite him.

Julian selected and sat. He waited for Dylan Tovak to make the next move.

"What do you think?" Dylan finally said.

"About what, sir?"

"About the piece in the Las Vegas Herald. It's why I called you up here."

"Oh," Julian's voice betrayed his disappointment. "I think we ought to pounce on Zach Hepson. Bring him to Versailles. I've noticed reservations have been down, especially for suites. I have a buddy who works at Camelot; the guy says they're as busy as they've ever been. I wonder if maybe we could steal a chunk of that business by getting a psychic show of our own. Especially with the boy who proved Simmons to be a fraud."

"You think all that?" Dylan said.

"Yes, sir."

"I think the same thing. I think maybe we should work together on this. Bring the kid in and see what he's got."

"You want to work with me?" Julian asked.

"Why not you? You're smart, alert, can process information. I think you're an under-utilized asset. I intend to utilize you."

"What would I do?" Julian tried not to squirm in his seat. It was difficult controlling his excitement.

"First off, you'll report to me. And, if you want the job, I have something for you to do tonight."

Julian glanced at his watch, then his eyes went back to Dylan.

"Got somewhere to be?" Dylan asked.

"Nowhere important, sir. What do you need me to do?" Beers with the guys could wait. It could wait indefinitely.

"As you know, the Hepsons are spending a couple of nights here. I want you to take the kid, Zach, under your wing. Show him around. Have some fun. He's twelve, so no women, you understand? Good clean fun."

"Not a problem, sir. I've got a little brother who's fourteen. I can handle it."

"Try to convince him Versailles is a good place to be. I'll work on the parents."

"Want me to do anything before they arrive?" Julian asked.

"Yeah."

Dylan rummaged through a drawer in his desk and came up with a credit card. He tossed it to Julian, "Get some clothes." The hotel issued 17th century Parisian garb would not cut it at this level.

Julian stood to leave. He got as far as the door when Dylan spoke again, "One more thing."

Julian turned, "What's that, sir?"

"Keep your hands off the girl."

Julian nodded. So, Molly was out of the question. Too bad. He pulled the door open, said, "Thank you, Mr. Tovak," and left the office. He walked directly past Molly, not looking in her direction.

"See you around," she called.

Julian waved an acknowledgement without turning around.

*****

Simon scanned the headlines of the Las Vegas Herald. Nothing interesting was going on and there was no mention of Cassandra or the other girl he'd hit. Maybe it wouldn't get picked up by the paper. This was Las Vegas, after all. Worse things happened here than a run-away teen and a hit and run accident. He flipped to the Entertainment section.

When his eyes saw his name they went wide with fear. That fear quickly gave way to anger as he read the short blurb, complete with an old photo of him on stage. In the photo his head was tilted back and his eyes were closed. It was a stereotypical psychic pose that made him look like an ass.