Who Killed Chrissy?: The True Crime Memoir of a Pittsburgh girl's Unsolved Murder in Las Vegas (11 page)

“I’ll
be ready, Kathy.”

I
set my alarm clock for seven, ate a salad and went to bed early; I figured I’d
shower in the morning. I slept soundly and never heard Chris come in.

T
he alarm clock on my nightstand screamed at seven, and
I managed to smash the off button before it awakened Chris, or so I thought.
She must have come in late because I heard nothing. Then again, I would sleep
through a hurricane, and I think it becomes that way after you’ve been a single
mom for a while—you are always worn out and always up early.

In
my life, there’s before coffee, during coffee and after coffee. After coffee is
the best part of the day for me, where I’m thinking clearly and ready to start
processing what’s next.

I
thought I heard a whisper as I dragged myself to the kitchen. No coffee, what a
depressing thought this early in the morning.  When I turned to open the
fridge, Chris was standing there in her night shorts and tank top, her mouth
wide open. I waited for the screaming to begin.

Feeling
like a zombie, I didn’t much care what she said or did, as long as she didn’t
physically attack me, because if that had happened I would have been completely
helpless with no defense. I thought about that for a minute, as she was looking
very aggressive, angry and distraught. I figured I’d just not respond to any of
it this time because honestly, without coffee, I wasn’t capable of a response. 
Yes, no response was my choice. I knew there was a slight chance that she would
freak out on me, completely lose it and possibly beat me up. I knew this after
the first outrage in the buffet line. I knew she was capable of violence. I
always did my best to avoid violence and walk away from it whenever possible.

Wait,
I could try a little humor I thought. I smiled a little smile and stuck two
fingers in both ears to signal I wasn’t listening. This attempt at humor made
her worse. She was flailing now, arms were going, hands were going, and she was
jumping around the room.

“You
woke me up, you woke me up.  I can’t stand it when anyone wakes me up this
early.” Her head was bobbing around and the screams were getting louder. Her
face turned red, and she screeched again, “I’m moving out of here today.”

“All
of this over an alarm clock going off,” I said quietly.  Damn, she heard me,
and this set her off like a banshee….

“I’m
getting my own place today, I’m not taking this shit anymore, I can’t stand it,
I can’t tolerate it, I want out of here, away from you.” She looked disheveled
and spent. The screeching continued as I quietly shuffled over to the living
room, where I was now just an observer, no longer wishing to participate in any
of it. The squealing was giving me a headache, and I just quietly looked at her
and mumbled, “Someone is going to kill you.” It came oozing out of my mouth
from nowhere. The immediate thought that flashed over me was of a big man
lunging towards her as she screamed and flailed about.

The
comment dropped out of my mouth and to the ground and she never heard it, and I
never thought about it again.  It was something that would take me years and
years to figure out, and I can only say it was because I had no interest in
anything paranormal back then. The only thing that happened right after I said
it was that I wanted to say out loud to myself, “Why the hell did you just say
that
?” 
That was it—such a weird thing to say, an oddball, out of nowhere thing to say.
That’s all I thought at the time I said it.  I thought it was a stupid thing to
say and did not know
where
the hell it came from….

Chris
was throwing the covers around on her bed, dragging out the suitcases from
under it, and ignoring me. “I’m moving out, I’m getting my own place, today.”

I
said nothing.  I slowly walked towards the bathroom and shut the door, locking
the lock, shutting out her insanity.  She had stopped screeching, but I could
still hear it in my head as I turned on the shower and soaked my head in the
steamy water.

By
the time I got to the cold part of my shower I was feeling much better, and I
was looking forward to opening the door and having her gone.

Yes,
she was gone. I was all smiles and felt like dancing around the room in my bath
towel. No more insanity, no more temper tantrums, no more drama. I was so
relieved that I mixed a glass of iced tea and savored the moment for at least
an hour before it dawned on me that Kathy must be running late. It was close to
nine, so I called her. She said Larry had needed to use the car and she’d be
over shortly.  “No problem Kathy, take your time.” And I did mean that.  I was
enjoying the silence.

Breakfast
was a lovely event with Kathy, if just for the coffee. We laughed and talked,
and I told her I’d probably never see her again in life but it was nice getting
to know her and Larry, and then we spoke of slot machines and winnings.

I
never mentioned that the eleven hundred dollars I had won at Baccarat had been
wired home to my mother the day after I won it.

I
t was either one or two days later that Chris knocked
on my door. I couldn’t imagine who was knocking on my door, as I was not really
socializing with anyone at the apartment complex. Seeing her standing there
smiling happily with a bulging envelope in her arms was a shocker.  She caught
me off guard in that I didn’t know exactly how to react.

I
just stood there and said a meek hello. She was fidgeting around with the
envelope and opened it in front of me. Out came a huge pile of photographs, which
appeared to me to be 35-millimeter professional quality pictures.

Politely,
she asked me if I’d wanted any of the photographs that Fred had shot of us over
at Caesar’s Palace on the day of the fights, as she handed over the pile to me.
I felt odd but justified in not inviting her into my apartment, and she didn’t
ask to come in.

She
quickly added, “Fred gave me these.” I was surprised to hear that because Fred
didn’t seem like the type of guy to
give
away anything for free, and she
was very happy in telling me that he had
given
her these photographs—I
immediately had a passing thought that she’d hooked up with him somehow.

I
halfheartedly flipped through the photos and saw a few that looked quite nice
of the two of us, but I declined her invitation by saying, “Nah, none of them
look that great Chris, I think I’ll pass.” She took the pile from my hand and
said, “No problem, I’ll keep them myself.”

I
did not at this point feel the least bit inclined to ask where she had moved. I
was feeling kind of numb about the friendship, just not feeling it anymore. It
was over; I didn’t want to be friends with her. I’d lost interest, and as she
walked away and I closed the door, I felt the welcomed silence again. It was
magical to me now.

I
would forever regret not taking one photo of her and me together from the
pile….

I
hadn’t made reservations back to Pittsburgh yet. I planned on staying until the
end of the week when the rent would run out on the apartment. I was playing it
by ear, but I figured I’d probably want to return home soon since I missed my
son desperately and I was getting bored. My daily ambitions were limited to the
pool, the laundry room, the grocery store and an occasional dinner out with
Kathy and Larry Roberts. It was quiet around the apartment complex, and I
imagined most people who had been there for the fights were now checked out. It
seemed to be hotter and hotter in Vegas now; I only did short stints at the
pool. I already had a great tan and was spending less and less time in the sun.

One
late afternoon when the sun was waning and not scorching, I lay down on my
beach towel at the pool, where only a few people were swimming. I was off to
myself in a corner by the hot tub with nothing but my towel and my brown
leather cigarette case on the towel beside my head. I kept the key to my
apartment tucked in the front pocket of the leather case.

The
last thing I remember seeing before I fell asleep was Fred lurking around the
soda machine over by the laundry room area. I didn’t feel he would come over to
talk to me, as I had not seen him before this, and some time had passed since
handing him my ticket stub for admission to the fights. I hadn’t given him any
signals that I was interested in pursuing anything with him.

I
was asleep on my towel. I felt a dream presence near me, but it didn’t wake me.
Then I felt a small delicate hand tap me on the shoulder and a meek voice said,
“Get up and go to your room right now.” This, coupled with a strobe-like flash
of white light that blasted me, and I woke up. I assume because of the voice
telling me to get up, I grabbed my cigarette case and looked inside the pocket
and the key was gone. I stood up half-groggy and took off to my room, which was
less than a driveway’s length from where I had been laying. I turned the corner
and stood at the bottom of the step leading up to my apartment, and I could
plainly see the door was cracked open.

I
eased my way up the steps and over to the door, where I pushed open the crack
and saw Fred standing in the back of the apartment digging through my luggage.

I
wasn’t going in; something told me not to go inside. The fear was welling up
inside of me, and I knew if I went in there something would happen to me. So I
stood outside the door on the patio and yelled in, “Fred, there’s nothing in
there; I have nothing, only some silver dollars for my son.”  I never kept
money in my room. What cash I had left to live on I had tucked deep inside the
main part of my cigarette case with my cigarette pack, along with the one
credit card that I owned.

I
thought about running. I thought that if I did run he might catch me and beat
me down. There was no one around at this point and dusk was setting in rapidly.
I thought that if I screamed no one would hear me. You could hear nothing but
the loud hum of air conditioning, and I would have been drowned out by it. I
knew I had to think fast.

I
casually walked over to the top step and sat down. When Fred came walking out
of my apartment I just sat there. He sat down next to me. I didn’t want him to
smell my fear, but it was all over me. I had to be an actor right now.  I was
scared out of my head—this guy could snap my neck in three seconds flat.

“Fred,
listen honey; I am a single mom from Pittsburgh. I don’t have much. I won a
little bit of money, but I wired it back to Pittsburgh right away to my mother
who is taking care of my son. I’d like to have my key back please.” He handed
me my key and said nothing.

Reading
this guy was difficult. He just sat there and was waiting to see what I was
going to do. He probably knew there was little I
could
actually do, but
I could see that he was thinking, and he was weighing in his mind what
he
should do. The atmosphere of extreme danger is something I will never forget.
The leasing office was closed for the day, and I couldn’t dart back into the
apartment and call the police. I felt that any move on my part that made him
think
that I was going to expose him, would make him act.

The
rest of what happened is a blank for me. I made some small talk with this guy,
and eventually when I felt he was feeling secure in knowing that he wasn’t in
any kind of trouble, I went back in my apartment and locked the door, and he
got up and walked away. As I watched him from the window, he walked across the
parking lot and knocked on a door to an apartment across the way. A white girl
answered the door and let him in, and this was the first time I actually
saw
where he was staying. A scam robber team came to mind right away, and I knew
this guy was no damn good.  He had only planned on robbing me. He hadn’t gotten
anything either, and I didn’t want to start any shit, but I knew I had to go
find Chris and I had to find her fast. If she was still hanging around with
Fred, she needed to be told this story. 

I
thought about notifying the police or letting management know about the
incident, but decided against it because I sensed there would be punishment for
my actions, just as there had been at Riverview Park with the menacing thugs. 
I knew thugs would retaliate, and I knew Fred was a thug.

I
stayed in that night, fearful that if I opened my door and even went to the
soda machine, that I would encounter Fred. I thought about where Chris might
have moved to and decided that she was probably on the other side of the 300 or
so unit complex, because I had not even run into her anywhere near my end of
the complex since she’d left.