Zombie Cash Run in Las Vegas: A Lighthearted Tiffany Black Mystery (Tiffany Black Mysteries Book 12) by A.R. Winters

Author:A.R. Winters [Winters, A.R.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2018-02-26T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

We stepped out into the hallway, and immediately saw Chuck walking slowly in our direction.

He was lost in thought; it took him a split second before he registered Ian’s and my presence–and as soon as he did, he spun round on his heel and walked off rapidly in the opposite direction.

Ian made a face. "He's being real subtle about not wanting to talk to us."

I felt a surge of grumpiness. "It's almost as though he doesn't want to talk to us just to be spiteful."

"Maybe he had something to do with Brenna's death and he's worried we’ll be able to get it out of him."

I shook my head. "You can't force someone to talk to you. If he’s that serious about keeping to himself, perhaps we should let him be."

"I'm not giving up that easily," Ian said, walking after Chuck quickly.

I had no choice but to keep up with Ian, and soon we found ourselves in the cafeteria, where Chuck had tried to take refuge.

The cafeteria was empty today–the second cameraman, Pete, was sitting by himself at one of the tables, but no one else was around. The breakfast spread had been cleared off, and the bright lights and faint hint of pine air freshener made the place seem lonely and barren.

Pete looked up at us when we entered and smiled, and then he went back to doing whatever he was doing on his smartphone. Chuck had his back to us, and was pouring himself a mug of coffee.

Ian and I went up to Chuck, and Ian said in a faux-bright, persistent voice, "Hi Chuck! It's great to see you again."

Chuck finished pouring his coffee, and glanced disinterestedly at Ian and I. "Yeah."

"Do you have time for a quick chat?" Ian said.

Chuck shook his head rapidly, not even bothering to think about the question. "I've gotta go make an important call."

And then he turned round and stalked off. He didn’t bother to say goodbye, or make up an excuse about talking to us later.

I pursed my lips as I watched him walk off. The funny thing was that I believed he had nothing to do with Brenna's death–if he did, he’d have tried to be a bit more subtle about not enjoying our presence.

No, the man was just rude by nature.

"We might as well get something to drink now that we're here," Ian said, glancing over at the buffet.

A small lunch spread had been served, but it was too early for heavy food. And the lunch foods only included a Caesar salad, sliced bread, small wrapped-up butter pats, some cold meats, and a tray of roasted vegetables. It didn't look that enticing, and I hoped more food would be served before lunchtime actually hit. There was, however, a tray of mini cheesecakes. I helped myself to one and grabbed a mug of coffee, as did Ian, and then we joined Pete at his table.

"I've had one of those mini cheesecakes," Pete said, "and they are absolutely delicious!"

I bit into mine, and I nodded in agreement.

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