Chapter Fifteen #2
“My associate swung by the new condo,” she said, “to drop off some paperwork, leave a congratulatory bottle of champagne—you know the routine—and someone else was living there.”
“A woman?” Mort guessed.
Victoria nodded again.
“Oooh!” Maureen rubbed her hands together. “That is juicy. So Marty Wardell, who is married to Bobby’s sister, has a little love nest on the side.” She turned back to Victoria. “Does your contact know who the woman is?”
“Unfortunately, she does not,” Victoria said.
I flipped back to the page that listed Marty Wardell’s contact information. “He didn’t seem to give that address to the police. Do we know where the condo is?”
“That we do,” Victoria said proudly, lifting up a yellow Post-it Note.
“Do we want to go check it out?” Howard tapped on his phone. “It’s getting rather late to make an unannounced visit.”
“I think this is something we let Caceras handle,” Mort said. “I don’t mind a little paperwork, but making a cold call on what could be a potential suspect sounds more like official police business.”
“Because you’re on vacation?” Maureen teased.
“Because it can get you hurt,” he said flatly. “Or worse.”
“I agree with Mort.” I turned to him. “Would you like to text him the address?”
Victoria handed him the note, and while he passed on our new information, I went back to my reports, and the next on my list was the director, Evelyn Grider.
“How much do you think a game show director makes?” I asked.
“That’s not on there?” Maureen asked.
“No,” I said. “I noticed she lives in an apartment, but there’s no salary information here.”
“She’d make a lot less than the host,” Howard said. “Mainly because they’re dispensable. You can replace a director, and the audience doesn’t bat an eye, because they’re just a quick line in the credits. It’s harder to replace a host. So when Bobby got the part instead of her—”
“That would give her a prime motive to get rid of Bobby.” Mort set down his phone. “But we already know it couldn’t be her because of the snake phobia.”
“That’s right.” I stared at the stark table. If she had any motive at all to kill Ray, I doubted I’d find it in the paperwork in front of me.
“Where are Julie Clifford and the Sagebrush Sages from?” Maureen asked suddenly. “I know they said in the introduction on the first day, but I was in the middle of a minor panic attack, and I don’t remember much.”
“Henderson, Nevada,” Victoria said. “I watched it twice.”
“Is that anywhere near Vegas?” Maureen asked.
“Let me check.” Howard pulled out his phone again. “Looks like it’s a Vegas suburb. Twenty-some minutes to the Strip.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Those two crew members who gave you the heebie-jeebies, Gaelan and Jake?” Maureen said. “They both used to work in Vegas.” She handed over a couple of sheets to me.
“And for the same employer,” I said. “JHN Entertainment. They both reported their positions there as analyst.”
Howard and Mort returned to their cell phones, leaving me wistful for bygone detectives who solved crimes with only their wits and, if any research were needed, had it done by friendly librarians and seedy irregulars.
“Pretty standard stuff for Vegas,” Howard eventually said. “JHN has holdings around the country, mostly casinos, a couple of racetracks, rounding out with a few hotels and spas.”
“Most recently, online gaming and sports betting,” Mort said. “Now that it’s legal in most states.”
“Organized crime?” Maureen asked, which sent Mort and Howard back to their phones.
After a few minutes, Howard said, “I’m not seeing anything seedy about their operation. No reports of pending investigations or whistleblower complaints.”
“Seems pretty clean for a casino company,” Mort agreed.
I leaned back and took a sip of my now tepid tea. “That those men worked in Vegas also doesn’t prove there’s a connection between the Sagebrush Sages and Gaelan and Jake. Vegas is a big town, and fairly close to LA.”
“It might not prove anything,” Mort said, “but if it’s one of those Jessica Fletcher flashes of instinct, we should dive a little deeper. What kind of connection could there be between a big Vegas entertainment corporation and the death of a soundman on a trivia game show?”
“If they have online gaming,” Maureen said, “like their own trivia quiz, could the show cut into their profits somehow?”
“Making Gaelan and Jake some kind of corporate hit men?” Mort said. “Most corporations don’t resort to murder to eliminate their competition.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that,” Maureen said, “but what if they were here to sabotage the game show, and the situation got out of hand?”
“Do people bet on game shows?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t think so,” Mort said. “I mean Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune have been on the air for decades, and you never hear of anyone betting on them.”
Howard sat up straighter in his chair and reached for his cell phone again.
“But those programs are prerecorded.” He started typing on his phone again.
“People bet on everything these days, from big-league sports to weird minor competitions, like cheese rolling and wife carrying, to reality and award show outcomes, to political elections. Even just odd stuff, like how long the singing of the national anthem at the Super Bowl will last.”
When he fell silent, absorbed in the content of his phone, I said, “It may be nothing, but that couple who bought our dessert at the Astro the other day made a remark that their money was on us. At the time, I thought it was just an expression, but…”
Howard raised his hand. “People are betting on the outcome of the show. Sagebrush Sages were the early favorites, but Mainely Brilliant just took the lead.”
“You think someone is trying to manipulate the outcome of the show for betting purposes?” Mort said. “Feeding the Sages the answers so they win?”
I shook my head. “I’m still not sure that tracks,” I said. “I’m no expert, but I don’t think you’d make a lot of money betting on the favorites.”
“You make a lot more betting on the long shots,” Mort agreed.
“I get where you’re going. Feed the answers to the Sages, make sure they’re the overwhelming favorites, and everybody bets on them.
Then they take a dive on the last day, let a team with longer odds win.
I guess we already messed up their plans by switching those answers.
But if someone was fixing the show, they’d likely be in cahoots with the team least likely to win.
Now we’re cooking. Who were the long shots at the beginning of the week? ”
“Just a sec,” Howard said, then grimaced and looked up.
“Who was it?” Maureen asked.
I had a sinking suspicion I knew the answer before Howard said it.
“You were.”