The Dead Don't Speak (21 page)

Daphne was watching the ten o'clock news when she saw that police had Chris Wright in custody. Simon Simmons was still at large with the investigation on-going. A smile spread across Daphne's face. For the first time since Humberto ended that miserable wretch's life, she felt a sense of satisfaction and relief.

Then came the story about Humberto Hernandez's apparent suicide. Her smile disappeared.

I shouldn't have pushed him. Is this my fault?

Humberto, after some early hesitation, had been completely on board with the plan. This didn’t make sense. Humberto had seemed solid. Maybe regret over having taken a life got him?

Daphne's cell phone vibrated on the table beside the couch. She didn't recognize the number calling.

"Daphne Carter," she answered.

"Mrs. Carter, this is Detective Todd, Nevada State Police."

"What can I do for you, Detective?"

"Do you know a man named Humberto Hernandez?"

Shit, that was fast!

"I do. Our daughters were friends. Both were killed a few weeks ago. I just saw on the news that he committed suicide. It's a real shame. He was such a good guy."

"It's too bad," the detective agreed. "We're going to need you to come down to the barracks; we have a couple questions."

"We can't do this over the phone?"

"We can do some of it over the phone, ma'am."

"Well, shoot." Daphne regretted those words the moment they passed her lips.

"When was the last time you saw Mr. Hernandez?"

"A couple of days ago. I took him to see a friend of mine."

"A friend of yours? What was the nature of that trip?"

"It's a bit of a story."

"I've got all night, ma'am."

"Have it your way," Daphne took a deep breath and began. "Did you see the story about Simon Simmons being shown up during his show a month or so ago?"

"I didn't."

"You know who Simon Simmons is, though?"

"He's wanted. But yes, I know he's
the
psychic in Las Vegas."

"He
was the
psychic. At one of his shows a month or so ago this kid stands up in the audience and calls him out. You see, Simmons had just read a couple in the crowd and moved on. The kid stands up and says, 'Hey, she's pregnant,' meaning the woman. Threw Simmons off the rest of the night.

"As you may or may not know, I am CFO of the Versailles Hotel and Casino. We recently hired this boy with the intention of making him one of our main attractions. I don't know how he does it, but I've met this kid and he has a gift. First time I ever met him he starts getting into this incident from my childhood when my brother, Ben, died. What he said changed my whole perspective on the situation. Kid's got something special.

"Anyway, I took Humberto to see him, hoping to get him some closure. The kid, his name is Zach, was brilliant. Told Humberto his daughter loved him, was watching over him, and would see him again when his time came."

Daphne patted herself on the back. She truly felt like the queen of bullshit.

"I see," the detective said. "That was the last time you saw Mr. Hernandez?"

"Yes, sir."

"I have information that says differently."

"What information is that?" Daphne asked.

"A note from Mr. Hernandez. It puts you and him together after the event you just told me about."

"That's why I am coming to the barracks?"

"It is, Mrs. Carter."

"Tomorrow then," Daphne said. "Eight in the morning work?"

"That should work. You won't be meeting with me. I should have told you that sooner. You will be meeting with Detective Leon Pushkin from Las Vegas Metro PD. We are extending our facilities to him as a courtesy, interdepartmental cooperation and all."

"Oh, good. I've spoken with him a few times. He’s been investigating my daughter's hit and run accident."

"Eight AM tomorrow, ma'am," the detective said and hung up.

"Fuck!"

*****

Zach and Cayte lay in the dark in a room at Versailles.

"Did you feel more free at the jail last night?" Zach asked.

Cayte laughed, "Yeah, sorta'."

"Me, too."

"Do you think things will ever be good for us?"

"I do. And not too long from now, either."

"Why's that?"

"Because we're both smart and try to do the right thing. Life will take care of the rest," Zach said. He enjoyed being a sage whenever possible.

"How do you mean?"

"We can beat Dylan Tovak at his own game. We will get you emancipated and then, with my income -- remember I have a contract with
Versailles
, not Dylan Tovak -- you will become my guardian. Once that's done, we can do whatever we want."

"How old are you?" Cayte asked, not entirely joking.

"Twelve. I can't help it if things make sense to me."

Julian knocked on the hotel room door. It was only 7:00AM and he hoped one of them would be awake. A bleary eyed Cayte answered the door in pajama bottoms and a tank top.

"May I come in?" Julian asked.

"Yeah," Cayte left the door open for him and walked back to her bed.

Zack must be up and in the shower. Julian could hear it running and saw the other bed was slept in but vacant. Cayte collapsed into her bed and pulled the covers up over her face.

"Not a morning person?" Julian asked.

"Sorta'. Also, I just realized I must look like hell. I'd rather you didn't see me this way."

"You look fine."

"Sweet of you to say but you're a bad liar."

"Always have been. So guess what happened to me a couple days ago," Julian said.

Cayte pulled the covers down to her neck and said, "What?"

"Mr. Tovak fired me. Do you two know what he's planning to do?"

"You mean turn us into his personal child slaves? We have an idea, yeah. We figure that's why he has us here. He can keep a good eye on us if we're at the hotel. Matter a' fact, how did you know where we were?"

Julian smiled, "I know how Mr. Tovak thinks. Only spent a couple weeks working for him but the guy is a total control freak. I knew he'd have you either at the hotel or his house. But I think having two kids around the house would cramp his style, you know? So I asked downstairs which room you were in."

"And they just told you?"

"I used to work the front desk; I have friends there."

"Pays to have connections," Cayte said and pulled the covers over her head again.

"It does. It does."

Julian heard the shower turn off and a few moments later Zach appeared in a towel.

"Julian, hi."

"Hey, man, thought I'd stop by, see what's what."

"Good to see you."

Julian filled Zach in on his and Cayte's conversation. Then he said, "So what do you guys plan to do?"

"Cayte's going to emancipate herself and get guardianship of me. With her in control of my income from Versailles and my consent, I think we may actually pull it off."

"Tovak won't go for that," Julian said.

"Tovak won't have a choice."

"Why not?" Julian asked, his brow knit.

"Because I have no agreement with Mr. Tovak. I am working for Versailles, which has a board of directors. They are my boss, not Mr. Tovak."

"Suppose not. Anything I can do to help?"

"Would you be able to pick up the paperwork for us?" Zach asked.

"You let me know what you need and I will get it."

"Only other thing I think we'll need is a ride to the courthouse when the hearing date arrives."

"No problem there," Julian said. He added, "You sure you're only twelve?"

"I asked him the same thing last night," Cayte said from within her linen cocoon.

"Pretty sure," Zach said. "And I need one more thing."

"Name it," Julian said.

"I need to talk to Daphne Carter. You know who she is?"

"Yeah, the CFO. She's on leave since her daughter got hit by a car. What do you need to see her for?"

"I can't tell you. Just know that it will help Cayte and me with sticking it to Tovak."

"Man, that's all I needed to hear."

*****

In the County's attempt at organization, Chris Wright gained a cellmate. He was fresh from the psych ward where he'd been given a clean bill of mental health, aside from his murderous tendencies when agitated. His name was Walter Hepson.

Daphne Carter arrived at the State Police Barracks at 7:50AM. She walked inside, gave the trooper at the desk her name, said she was here to have an interview with Detective Leon Pushkin from Metro, and took a seat. Twenty minutes later Detective Pushkin appeared and led Daphne to a cinderblock room that was painted sky blue. They took seats on opposite sides of a small table. The interview began in earnest.

"I'm a little surprised you showed up," Pushkin said.

"Why's that?"

Pushkin slid a photocopy of a note written in a sloppy, loopy hand.

It read:

"I killed Simon Simmons. He's buried in the desert. Daphne Carter made me do it. I am sorry. I repent."

She slid the note back to Pushkin. "I was sorry to hear about Humberto. He was a good man."

"Is it true? Did you force him to commit a murder?"

"I didn't force him to do anything."

"Did you help him commit a murder?"

"I let him borrow my handgun. You see, after our daughters were killed, he had real concerns about safety. I have a Glock I kept in a small gun safe under my bed at home; I let him have it for peace of mind. I never thought he'd use it to kill himself. If I'd known what he was planning, I would never have let him borrow it."

"You didn't answer my question."

"If the note is true and he killed Simon Simmons with my gun, I guess I did help him, in a way..."

"Did you know he wanted to kill Simmons?"

"I didn't know he wanted to. But as a parent who's lost a daughter, I can certainly understand it. Was it Simmons that murdered Cassie?" Daphne asked.

"I believe so. And I think his manager, Chris Wright, helped him clean it up. But you already knew that, didn't you Daphne? I know you and your buddy, Leonard Murdock, at Camelot have been looking into this. And there's nothing wrong with that, not until you cross the line into obstruction of justice."

"Have we obstructed justice?"

"If I could prove that, you and I would be having a very different kind of conversation."

"Different how?"

"You'd be in an orange jumpsuit."

"That
would
be different. So why am I here?"

"I wanted to see your face when you read the note, mostly."

"And?"

"And I don't believe you are the cause of Humberto Hernandez's death. Let me walk you to your car. Our interview's over."

"Over? I've been here five minutes!"

"What can I say?" Pushkin said with a shrug. He stood.

The detective walked Daphne outside and began a new kind of conversation once they were clear of the building.

"Fuckin' State Police, think they own any investigation that occurs in Nevada. I didn't want to make you come all the way down here but I had to, for appearances."

"You want something from me?" Daphne asked, squinting in the morning sun.

"I want to tell you a couple things. First, I plan to use this case as a platform to launch myself upward in Metro PD, and I am seriously considering a career in politics after that. A man going into politics needs friends, powerful friends. I think you and I should be friends."

"I'd like that. Anything else?"

"Plenty! I know what a piece of shit Simon Simmons was and I know the world is better off without him. Maybe you and Humberto killed him, maybe Humberto did it himself, maybe no one killed him and he got away -- we will probably never know. I am willing to believe he's gone forever and that's a good thing. I do think you had more to do with it than you want to admit, but given what you've been through this past month, I'm not going to pursue that line of thought."

"But, Chris Wright was probably involved, too. Matter of fact, I think he was driving the car that hit Sarah. He is in custody now and he will be going to trial on two counts of murder, unless he pleads guilty, which I highly doubt. The guy thinks he's above everything. It's an attitude I hope he keeps in prison. They love a cocky son of a bitch in there. The reason I'm telling you this is because I need that trial to happen. It'll be a media event where I should get ample face-time and probably testify. So if you have any designs to get Chris Wright, you better forget them. He'll do life in the prison. That will have to be enough for you."

"Understood," Daphne said. They were by her car now. She unlocked it, got in, and shut the door.

Pushkin made the gesture to roll down the window. Daphne did.

"Remember your pal, Walter Hepson? He’s in county. They found him."

"He didn’t run? When I saw that on the news I thought he’d be halfway to Hong Kong by now.”

"Nope. He stayed in town long enough to shoot his wife."

"Damn, a lot of that going around, huh?" Daphne said.

"Hopefully not," Pushkin said and turned to walk away.

"Can I ask you something?"

Pushkin turned back to Daphne, "Yes?"

"Think I could pull off the orange jumpsuit?"

Pushkin smiled, "I don't think orange is your color."

"Glad to hear it." Daphne gave a small wave and then started the vehicle.

*****

Julian got Daphne Carter's home address from a friend of his in the Versailles HR department. Daphne lived in a gated community right along the golf course. When Julian pulled up to the gate in his crappy little Saturn, the guard looked at him, from the booth, like he was either lost or crazy.

"Can I help you, sir?" the guard asked. His name tag said “Tony”.

"Yeah, I need to speak with Daphne Carter. She lives here."

"Mrs. Carter didn't tell us she was expecting anyone."

"She's not expecting me. Could you please tell her I need to speak with her about the future of Zach Hepson?"

"Sir, we don't disturb our residents. They let us know when they're expecting company, otherwise no one gets in."

"It's important that I speak with her immediately!"

"That's not my problem, sir," Tony said.

Julian considered trying to run past the gate but Tony was built like an NFL linebacker and was probably just was quick. It didn't matter anyway because before Julian could protest further he noticed a Mercedes coming to a stop behind his dinky little Saturn. Behind the wheel of the vehicle that put his to shame was Daphne Carter.

She got out of the car so Tony could hear her in his booth. "There a problem, Tony?"

Julian spoke first, "Mrs. Carter, my name is Julian."

"Dylan Tovak's assistant?" She asked.

"Until recently, yes."

Daphne's eyebrows went up as she processed this information and realized she could be looking at a new ally.

"You know this man?" Tony asked Daphne.

"Yes. He works at Versailles. What do you need, Julian?"

"Zach Hepson wanted me to come speak with you."

"Let him in, Tony," Daphne said and got back in the Mercedes.

Tony grudgingly allowed Julian's little silver Saturn to pass into his precious community.

"Zach wants to speak with you," Julian said, once they were in the Carters' home.

"I thought he sent you to speak with me."

"He told me to tell you he needs to speak with you." Julian chuckled. "That kid has us coming and going."

"Talk to me about what?" Daphne asked.

"Don't know. He wouldn't tell me. I'm sure it has got something to do with his and Cayte's predicament."

"What predicament is that?"

"Guardianship of Zach and Cayte has been given to Mr. Tovak, temporarily. From what the kids told me, he's broken his agreement with Cayte and is adding extra shows to Zach's schedule. Mrs. Carter, I think that these kids were forced into performing by their parents. They have no love for it. They do it because they have to. They were the ones earning a living for their family. I believe they want out. Cayte plans to emancipate herself and get guardianship of Zach. I don't see that quite panning out but I told the kids I'd help them however I could. Zach said he needed me to tell you he needs to see you; so here I am."

Daphne leaned back in her chair and exhaled loudly through her nose. "I see. How would they earn money, if Cayte's plan worked and she got guardianship of Zach?"

"He'd still do his show at Versailles, earn money for the both of them."

"Sharp boy, that one."

"Hell, you're tellin' me. Sometimes when I talk to him I think he's the adult and I'm the twelve-year-old boy."

"Where are they staying?"

"At Versailles, room 1658."

"Tovak has them at the hotel?"

"Nice, right?"

"I'll get over there this afternoon. I need to talk to Zach anyway."

*****

"This is driving me crazy! I should go talk to him," Cayte said. She had been going on and on about her show being cancelled by Mr. Tovak. Zach wished he hadn't started talking about it with her. Her emotions about the chaos that was their lives built and built until she'd blown up.

"I wouldn't," Zach warned. "I saw how he was looking at you in the car on the ride from jail. I don't trust him."

"How was he lookin' at me?" Cayte stood with her hands on her hips, eyes ablaze.

"You know..." For all his maturity, there were some things Zach couldn't bring himself to talk about.

"Oh please! I'm sixteen. He's not dumb enough to try anything."

"He might think he could get away with it," Zach countered.

"Pssh! Like I'd even let him. I hate him!"

"I just think it's a bad idea. Better to wait for Mrs. Carter to come see us and see how she can help."

"I am so sick of sitting around this hotel room." Cayte shot the whole room a contemptuous glare. "I need to do something." She headed for the door.

Zach reached out and put a hand on her arm as she passed. "Don't leave."

Cayte jerked her arm away. "Don't touch me!" Her voice changed, dropping a couple octaves when she said, "You're jealous. That's what this is all about. You don't want me to have my own show."

"I got you that show," Zach shouted. He regretted it.

Cayte didn't say anything. Tears welled in her eyes. She turned back toward the door and flung it open.

"Oh, no," Zach said to the empty room.

"Cayte calmed herself during the walk to Dylan Tovak's office. When she arrived, she noticed the redheaded receptionist was gone, replaced by a cute little blonde who was only a couple years older than she was.

"Can I help you?" the blonde asked, looking Cayte up and down with the hint of a snarl just below the surface.

"I am here to see Mr. Tovak."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No. It'll only take a few minutes."

"What is this regarding?"

"My show that he cancelled."

The blonde pushed a button on her phone and it issued a loud hum. She dialed four numbers; Cayte heard the phone ring just beyond the door.

"Mary, you can use the intercom button, you don't have to dial my extension. What's up?"

"There's a girl here to see you about her show that you cancelled?"

"I'm busy."

"Yes, sir," Mary pushed a button and ended the call. "You heard him, he’s busy. Maybe come back when you have an appointment."

Cayte flipped her hair with all the southern sass of her late mother, walked to Dylan Tovak's office door, opened it, and went inside.

"You can't just..." Mary's words were cut off when Cayte slammed the door shut.

A moment later Mary came through the door, "I'm sorry, Mr. Tovak, she barged right through."

"It's all right, Mary, I didn't realize it was Cayte here to see me. Go on back to your desk," he smiled at Cayte and rolled his eyes.

She returned his smile. He wasn't blowing her off; the man was probably legitimately busy.

Once Mary was beyond the door, Dylan spoke, "What brings you by?"

"I want my show back. I never even got a chance to sing. I want that chance."

"I'm sorry, it's already done. I told you, you can keep the guaranteed money."

Cayte flushed, "You mean
you
can keep the money."

"I'm only holding it in trust. When you're eighteen it'll be yours. Until then you will be taken care of, all your needs met. Zach likes having you around and we need to keep him happy."

"You're keeping me around for Zach." Everything was about Zach.

Tovak smiled, "For Zach and it's nice to have pretty girls around."

Tovak moved from his seat behind his desk to his couch. He patted the cushion beside him, a cheesy signal for her to sit. The situation felt incredibly sleazy to Cayte. She only wanted to sing for people. Cayte had dealt with "male attention" since she was thirteen and on the road with Margaret. But her desire to sing for people trumped reason and Cayte sat down beside him.