Who Killed Chrissy?: The True Crime Memoir of a Pittsburgh girl's Unsolved Murder in Las Vegas (7 page)

BOOK: Who Killed Chrissy?: The True Crime Memoir of a Pittsburgh girl's Unsolved Murder in Las Vegas
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Chris
was talking about taking a trip out to Las Vegas to scout for jobs, and she
wanted to know what my plans were. I really didn’t have any, and I started
entertaining the possibility of relocating to a bigger city with more
opportunities.

I
knew this was a whim though, because I was attached to my family now. They
loved their grandchild, and it was the only life he had for Christmas Santa’s
and Easter baskets, all the things that children look forward to. I wanted him
to have the same Ozzie and Harriet life that I had had, complete with dinner as
a family every single evening at five and a family structure that was strong
and consistent. I never doubted that these were the things that made children
grow up to be strong adults.  My mother was at home with my two brothers and me
daily, and dinner was on the table promptly at five when my father walked
through the door after a hard day as a crane operator. There was never anything
but a hot, wonderful meal served at our family dinner table, and when we all
gathered for meals it was to sit and review the day. Funny how we decide at
some point in our lives that our family life was not the way life should be and
we leave, only to realize that we had it all and didn’t know it at the time we
had it—or we grow bored with it and think there’s something more than what was
right there nurturing us all along. 

I
knew I would never move from Pittsburgh; however, I wasn’t ready to admit that
to myself yet—I still had that tiny little voice in my head that whispered the
dream life, the glamorous life, the life of a cosmetic sales rep where I
traveled in style and met exciting, worldly people. It was tough admitting to
myself that I still craved the excitement and glamour of such things, but I
did, and since returning to Pittsburgh in 1979, pregnant and alone, the
struggle was sometimes too hard for me. Since my departure from Pittsburgh in
1975, I had discovered there were bigger cities to explore and places I wanted
to see.

 

 

Chris
called one afternoon and said she’d found a vacation package that was cheap for
round trip airfare, five days in Vegas and two rooms on the Strip at the
Holiday Inn. She had asked her friend, Francine, to go with her but she had
refused due to family problems, so I was her next choice. It sounded exciting
and glamorous, and the thought of a vacation in a place like Vegas was
enticing—I hadn’t been anywhere outside Pittsburgh since the birth of my son,
close to three years ago. I was starting to entertain the thought, but I didn’t
have a lot of money saved up and that weighed on my mind. I was collecting
unemployment benefits, and accepting gifts from my parents to survive and pay
my bills while searching for another sales rep job.

 

 

If I
had had a conversation with Chuck Werner at this point in time, I feel certain
that I would have declined Chris’s invitation to vacation in Las Vegas. 

I
had never been to Vegas, but Chuck had taken Chris out there in 1979 to an
insurance convention. I had no knowledge of this story during this time period;
it was told to me by Chuck in July of 2008 while interviewing him for this
book.

During
the convention in Vegas with Chuck, Chris asked him to rent a car so they could
drive out to see the Sleeping Indian Mountain, which was technically known as Sunrise
Mountain, a popular tourist attraction. Once there, Chuck said Chris jumped out
of the car and informed him that she was going hiking in the mountains. Chuck
sat there shocked and horrified, wondering why or how she could suddenly decide
to do this, and the rest of the day turned into a nightmare for him.

After
hours and hours waiting for her return from the mountain, Chuck had to call the
police, who put a search party together to go look for her. 

She
was dehydrated, exhausted and delusional when they found her.

 

 

I
decided to go with Chris to Vegas. The thought of a vacation at this point in
time was too enticing; I couldn’t resist it. I told my parents we were going
out there to scout for jobs and possible relocation, but I knew in my heart that
this was a vacation.

Chris,
on the other hand was interested in scouting the area for opportunities in the
health field, and had her heart set on finding a business partner for a health
club, which was her dream come true—a health club with a sports massage studio.
I believed she dreamed of this daily, but I never took her seriously because to
me she was not the type to be that focused on such a big goal.

One
of her selling points to me was that we could possibly be hired as ring girls
at the Holmes Cooney Fights, which were scheduled at Caesar’s Palace for June
11, 1982.

Or
that we could get modeling jobs at Caesar’s Palace during the promotional
events for the fight. I did picture this in my mind for a minute—both of us
dressed in cute little get ups, carrying cards with big numbers on them
indicating the next round for the prizefight.

I
did not, for one minute, actually believe we would be able to get jobs as ring
girls!

It
was a dreaming moment in time that was implanted in my mind by Chris, and we both
languished on these thoughts for days….

The
other glamorous thoughts were of dealers at a casino.  I did think that might
interest me, but again, I knew in my heart I wasn’t leaving Pittsburgh.

I
believe Chris was developing a secret interest in learning how to enhance her
looks with makeup. She started selling May Kay cosmetics, and I proceeded to
instruct her on the fine artist’s tricks of glamorizing yourself! I started
right after graduating high school with a career in sales by selling Merle
Normal Cosmetics, which was located in downtown Pittsburgh in the Jenkins
Arcade building—the first indoor shopping mall in the world. My favorite store
in the Jenkins Arcade was a store that sold nothing but buttons—yes, nothing
but buttons!

Chris
was gifted at birth with big brown eyes and thick black lashes—I always envied
women with those lashes.  Not much mascara needed on thick lashes, and if you
applied it at all, it made you look like you were wearing fake ones.

I
couldn’t imagine Chris as being glamorous. She never put on a dress and never
wore make up. She was in sports mode always, and ready for the next run in the
park or workout at the gym. I looked forward to her transformation and wondered
what she’d look like all dolled up….

 

 

We
both purchased our vacation packages to Vegas and planned on staying for five
days at the Holiday Inn on the Vegas strip; we were psyched. I made
arrangements for my parents to watch my son, and they were happy to do it.

Chris
still resided at the Riverview apartment building where I had previously lived,
and was making arrange-ments for Marty to feed her cat while she was out of
town.  This mention of Marty made me realize that she was still seeing him in
some capacity.

 

 

On
Monday, June 1 of 1982, I drove myself to the Pittsburgh Airport and boarded my
flight to Las Vegas, Nevada. Chris missed the flight because she hadn’t been
able to solidify plans that Marty would take care of her cat while she was
gone.

When
I arrived in Vegas I headed for the first pay phone and that was the story she
told me. She would come as soon as she could, she said. I was a little pissed
off, but decided to just ignore her for now, and go about having fun in Vegas. 

My
style of fun was to do my hair and makeup, don a cute little sundress and mosey
on over to the pool at Caesar’s Palace and pretend I was a movie star. Armed
with the latest romance novel paperback book, my beach bag, sunglasses, lotion
and my favorite peach lipstick, I did just that.

Caesar’s
was bustling in preparation for the Holmes Cooney fights, and there were real
movie stars everywhere—I couldn’t believe my eyes when I spotted Jack Nicholson
leaning against a wall in Caesar’s lobby, wearing sunglasses, a sport jacket
and tennis shoes. He just stood there nodding at people and looking cool as all
hell. I knew this was going to be the most fun I’d had in quite a while—Hollywood
dreaming and more sunshine than any normal Pittsburgher could handle.

My
ears were popping almost immediately with the change in sea level. I had never
experienced anything like this before, and it was driving me crazy. I felt like
they were filling up with water or something, and I also felt bloated, like I
was starting to retain water.  In chatting with a local, someone told me this
was common until you got used to the change in pressure. The other horrible
thing about Vegas was the hundred degree temperatures during the day, then the
plummet to fifty degrees at night.  I hadn’t brought any sort of jacket or
coat, assuming it was June and extremely hot all the time.

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