Free Who Killed Chrissy?: The True Crime Memoir of a Pittsburgh girl's Unsolved Murder in Las Vegas by Beverly Simcic Page B

around like she’s
an Army sergeant and he’s a lowly soldier with no rank.  I smirked to myself
and picked up the hair dryer.
    I
desperately wanted to avoid even hearing another screaming match, so I started
walking towards the patio to dry my hair. She was thankfully calming down
though, and the last thing I heard her say to Marty was, “When you come out
here bring my fur coat, it’s very cold here at night.”  And I thought…Oh, Marty
must be coming out here. But I wasn’t going to talk about it or question her on
it; I didn’t care. I figured I’d be long gone on my way back to Pittsburgh
before any of this happened anyhow.  Whatever she was planning, I knew I
wouldn’t be there for it—I didn’t want to be there for it.
    The
fur coat Chris was referring to was her one and only beautiful three quarter
length beaver coat that Chuck Werner had bought her. I had borrowed it once,
and remembered it’s warmth on a freezing Pittsburgh night.  She cherished it.
    She
hung up the phone and when I looked up from drying my hair she was staring
intently at me, “Listen, I’ll tell you right now, don’t ever mention to
Marty that I was hanging out with a black man; he would kill me.”
    After
that comment I assumed she had been hanging out with Fred.
    “What
Chris, you’re not allowed to talk to a black person, is that the rule?” I said
jokingly, and then went back to drying and combing my hair.
    She
flipped her arm up at me Italian style and then went to the kitchen.
    I
knew that absolutely I wasn’t going to be in Vegas when Marty the creep
arrived, and found myself wondering where he was going to stay when he arrived.
     
     

     

SIX: HOLMES VERSUS COONEY
     
“Fate is not an eagle, it creeps like a
rat.”
–Elizabeth Bowen
     
    O n the morning of June 11, 1982 in Las Vegas, Nevada,
we were both up early. We wanted to get some sun, do laundry and get ready for
a long afternoon and evening at Caesar’s Palace for the big event. It would
take both of us hours to prepare, as we had to look our glamorous best in case
we encountered any movie stars.
    I
was planning a black dress with pink accents and a matching pink hibiscus
flower in my hair. Nothing special. I had brought along a nice cool cotton
dress that was Marilyn-Monroe-ish in style and some nice high-heeled, open toed
shoes to match.
    I
didn’t know what Chris had planned until I saw her getting dressed.  She had a
great looking oriental patterned silk dress that fit her like a glove and
showed off all her curves. It was black and mixed with a few other colors, and
I liked it a lot. But when she emerged from the bathroom with long curly hair I
lost it.
    “Chris,
where did you get the great wig?” I said, staring at her.
    “I
bought it, does it look good?”
    I
pretended to act skeptical, and she got impatient, so I confessed quickly,
“Yes, it looks absolutely ravishing, I like the way the curls surround your
face and soften it.”
    She
knew she looked good, and I wanted to do her makeup perfectly so she could
smile, be happy and go out the door feeling really good about herself.  I was
hoping for a calm, peaceful day full of fun at Caesar’s Palace, and
anticipating seeing movie stars all over the place.
    Chris
goes to the fridge and pulls out two small sealed plastic cups the size of shot
glasses, and motions like she’s toasting, looks over at me and says, “Do you
want to do some shots?”
    “Shots
of what, Chris?” As I knew she didn’t drink, I wondered what she was holding.
She opens one of them and shows me dark green looking goo that looked like
spinach. All I could say was, “Yuck, what is that?”
    “It’s
sea kelp and it’s really good for you.” Then she leans her head back and gulps
down the green goo like a shot of whiskey.
    “Where’d
you get that stuff?  It looks like puke; I’d never eat that crap! Who says it’s
good for you?”
    “Ben,
my friend from the health food store. We ate Chinese together the