A Little Murder in the Biggest Little City

Prologue

When Larry Columbo woke up on Friday morning, he didn’t feel so good. His head hurt, he was nauseous, and every muscle in his body ached. It wasn’t unusual for him to feel this way. His job as General Manager of a casino offered him the duty and opportunity to drink more than his share, and sometimes to ingest damaging quantities of a certain white powder, or swallow pills to enhance his good feeling. In truth, he expected all the actual work to be done by his subordinates. His life was one big party.

But today was worse. He had diarrhea and vomiting, and they were becoming more frequent. He decided a little hair of the dog might help. He went to the refrigerator and found a beer. He opened it and gulped down over half the bottle. It didn’t seem to help. Within a minute, his head was once again poised over the toilet bowl.

Operating the largest casino in Reno, Nevada, for over fifteen years had offered him many perks. He and his family also owned a successful casino next door, and all this fame, fortune, and respectability in the community, gave him access to just about anything he desired in his materially oriented life. He had enough money to buy anything his heart desired, and any woman little Larry lusted after. His family had amassed enough clout with the city council to ensure that anything they sought would be given to them. They even had enough power to influence the local police whenever necessary.

But on this Friday, he was no better off than many of the homeless men who spent their nights downtown looking for a few dollars to get drunk enough to forget their pasts. And he was definitely getting worse. What was he drinking last night? He had taken some pills, but didn’t remember what they were. He remembered snorting a few lines. Oh well, this would pass, and by tonight he would again be in a party mood. Maybe going back to bed for a while was a good idea.

He laid down on his custom made bed with its silk sheets. He looked at the mirror above, and was frightened by what he saw. His face was contorted, and his fingers appeared crooked. He was sweating profusely, and his body began to cramp. He couldn’t control his arms or legs. When the cramping eased for a second, he began to heave, but nothing came out at first. With the second attack, the retching produced a bloody residue. He wasn’t frightened, he was scared to death. He tried to reach for the phone, but his body wouldn’t move in that direction. The cramping got worse, and the blood was flowing freely from his mouth and nose. In less than fifteen minutes his body stopped convulsing. He had died in his own bed, alone, his silk sheets soaked with blood.

Chapter 1

In the early fall of 1985, Michael Whitten decided to take a vacation. He would take it alone. He had learned from experience how much he disliked traveling companions, so his destination would be determined only by the amount of money he was able to spend, and, of course, what entertainment he was seeking. He was twenty-six years old, and the things he cared about in life were minimal.

He had no way of knowing it, but his decision to take a vacation, combined with his destination of choice would lead to not only changes in his life, but would affect the lives of many others. He was not a man who was happy with his life. But, he wasn’t unhappy either. It was what is was. He controlled his fate. He had no close friends, and this was by choice. Therefore he had no one to confide in. There was no one else to discuss the cause and effect of his actions. His deeds would result in unsolved events that lasted for years.

Michael had been born in Los Angeles. He was an only child whose father had abandoned him and his mother when he was eight years old. He had never known why, but that’s just the way things happen sometimes. She consequently decided that alcohol was her only friend, so, in the true sense of the word, she abandoned Michael too. When she came home from work, she retreated to her bedroom, and seldom left except to get ice from the freezer. Other than feeding him, and making sure he had clothes to wear at home and school, she paid no attention to him. He had raised himself. He became used to it, he was comfortable with it, and therefore did not seek out friendships in his childhood or his adult life. He watched TV most of the time he was not at school. He liked sports, but didn’t especially like the idea of being on a team. He would shoot baskets by himself, or throw a baseball against a wall and retrieve it. When he got older, he found an interest in tennis, but all he ever did was hit the ball against the backboard.

He had lived his entire life in the Los Angeles area. He loved the sun, sand and surf, the sunrises and sunsets. Michael never felt the need to share the beauty of the sea with anyone. He relished the solitude when he sat on the beach at sunset, watching the ocean sizzle as the sun disappeared into the cool water on the horizon. He loved anything he could do in the water, body surfing, and boogey boarding, and with the warm weather virtually year round, he took advantage of the situation whenever possible.

Though it was the opposite of being in the warm sand and surf, he had also developed an interest in skiing. Mammoth Mountain was about three and a half hours away from home, and was said to have some of the best skiing in the west. It offered everything from beginner runs to helicopter skiing in the back bowls. He made several trips there, and enjoyed it immensely. The same lift that would take an expert skier to their runs, would take a beginner, like Michael, to the same area where he could ski less difficult terrain.

He had also made several trips to Las Vegas, and found that gambling was a great pastime. It was just over four hours from home, so he could go whenever the urge came. It was a city that truly never slept. He could do anything he wanted at any hour of the day or night. He spent little time in his room when he was there. He even won some money on several occasions. He stayed mostly at one hotel, because he felt lucky there, and, because he was a frequent customer, and one of his wins was for several thousand dollars, he was given comps. These consisted of room discounts, and free meals. Vegas made him feel special, even important.

He never had the desire to travel to many of the western states, though he always knew this area would be his home. As far as he could tell, only California offered it all. No other state had everything to offer from great beaches to great snow skiing, even desert life, if that was what tripped your trigger. He had no desire to live in, or even visit areas that had tornadoes, hurricanes, extreme cold, or extreme heat. Considering his likes and dislikes, he finally decided to vacation in Reno, Nevada. He read that, although Reno had all four distinct seasons, the winters averaged 42 degrees in the daytime, and the summers only reached 90 degrees or maybe a few degrees higher, and only during the month of July. Reno had gambling, of course, but also had great ski resorts in the Lake Tahoe area, within minutes, not hours, of Reno. There was Squaw Valley, Heavenly Valley, and many others fairly adjacent to the city. He knew it was too early for the resorts to be open, but his purpose was to explore them before the winter crowds, and return in January or February for a ski vacation.

He went to a travel agency where he received brochures from the hotels and ski resorts. The casinos weren’t like Las Vegas, but there were still many selections. From them he found a reasonable place to stay. If the brochure was truthful, it would fit his needs nicely. He called the travel agent and discovered the resort he was considering offered a package including air fare. It was four days and three nights and was quite reasonable. It was a perfect fit for his bank account,

His flight arrived at Reno Tahoe International Airport in early October. Reno advertised itself as the biggest little city in the world. Michael found it a fair description. The view he had from his window seat told him it was a densely populated area, but to drive from one end of the city to the other, north to south, would probably take no more than 10 to 12 minutes. There appeared to be a downtown area near the university, and a couple of shopping malls south of them, but only a few miles away. The hotel/casino where he was staying was about ten minutes away from the airport, or less, depending on traffic. He was dropped off at the main entrance. The hotel desk was just inside. He checked in right away and went to his room. His choice of accommodations was as advertised. His room was typical, and the casino, though quite small compared to his favorites in Las Vegas, offered the same games and amenities he was accustomed to.

His first day was spent resting in his room, gambling at the blackjack tables and slot machines, and later studying maps of the ski areas. The table limits were much lower than those in Las Vegas. There were many two and three dollar 21 tables, and twenty five cent slot machines as far as the eye could see. He thought of himself as a cheap gambler, these games appealed to him. The bell captain was a wealth of information in regards to the ski areas, and the easiest way to get to them. For his second day, he decided to rent a car and explore the slopes.

The day started out partly cloudy, and just under fifty degrees. The forecast was for light rain in the afternoon. He drove his rented Ford Fiesta south on interstate 395 towards Carson City, the capital of Nevada. He passed by Washoe Lake, which was in an area called Washoe Valley. From the signs he saw, it was apparently a very windy area much of the year. He reached highway 50, just south of Carson City, and turned west towards South Lake Tahoe. It was a beautiful drive, climbing through evergreen forest. When he passed the summit, it wasn’t long before a view of Lake Tahoe itself appeared. As advertised, it was big, blue, and beautiful. It was a huge lake, appearing as though a gigantic volcanic crater had been filled with water. If there were no mountains on the west side of the lake, it would give the impression it was an ocean. The forest never ended, and soon the casino area of South Lake Tahoe appeared ahead. The whole drive from Reno to the resorts took less than two hours.

He parked in one of the casino lots, and walked down Lake Tahoe Boulevard. He marveled at the large and modern casinos located amidst such a beautiful forest. The mountains behind them reached for the sky. It was one of the most beautiful areas he had ever seen. He walked into, and inspected every casino. They were big, impressive, but not very busy. He thought about it, and realized that when the ski season began in earnest, they would probably be much busier.

He stopped at an outdoor hamburger stand and was pleased with his choice. The hamburger was thick and juicy, and the chocolate shake much better than the fast food joints. As he was finishing his lunch, a light rain began to fall. He continued his walk, and saw where a chairlift to Heavenly Valley ski area began almost at the boulevard. He bought more maps and found there were ten or twelve ski areas not very far from each other. He also discovered one whose proximity made it belong more to Reno than it did to Lake Tahoe. Mount Rose ski area, which boasted the highest altitude in the area, was apparently only forty-five minutes from Reno.

It was now mid-afternoon. He consulted his maps and found that if he left South Shore, and turned off highway 50 onto highway 28 heading north, he would intersect Mount Rose Highway, number 431. It headed east, would pass the Mount Rose ski area, and eventually intersect with 395 back to Reno.

Highway 28 was an even more beautiful drive. It wound around the lake itself, which was on his left, tree covered mountains to his right. The lake was both beautiful and forbidding, with its wind swept crests, and the color changing from blue to grey. When he reached the turnoff to Mount Rose Highway, and had traveled less than thirty minutes, he was soon to learn his first lesson about the Reno area and the Sierra Nevada mountains.

Exiting highway 28 onto 431, the drive was a steady incline until he reached the top. Mount Rose Ski Resort is just east of the 431 summit. As he got to the eastern side of the mountain, barely past the Mount Rose ski area, it began to snow. It was light at first, but the wind began to make it swirl and caused a decrease in visibility. Then, it began to snow harder. As he rounded a curve, he saw an older model Volkswagen van on its side. Emergency vehicles had already arrived. It had obviously slid out of control on the switchback. Michael slowed his speed and let out a deep breath. The snow was piling up. It was not very deep, but deep enough to create very slick driving conditions on a road that was all curves and switchbacks. He hadn’t thought it necessary to rent a four wheel drive vehicle. He might have been wrong. He was on the side of the mountain that descended into Reno. The road was only wet when he reached highway 395 in Reno. By then, at an altitude of just over 4000 feet above sea level, snow had once again turned to a light rain.

He returned the rental car and walked back to his hotel. When he arrived, he went immediately to the mini-bar and took a brandy, poured it into the plastic, imitation crystal glass provided by the hotel, and drank all of it in two gulps. The suddenness of a winter like storm had surprised and scared him. A lesson learned. Welcome to northern Nevada.

The next day was sunny and 73 degrees in Reno. He walked the streets, did a little gambling, and, from the top of one of the casinos, enjoyed the view in all four directions. The area around the casinos was heavily occupied by older homes and businesses. But to the north he could see lots of new construction. It seemed to him that a very desirable little city was experiencing a growth spurt.

One of the larger casinos had a huge race and sports book. The National Football League season had begun about a month before, so the book was fairly busy. He enjoyed watching a game from time to time, but didn’t follow the teams close enough to believe he could bet on the games. But, when he saw a stack of parlay cards, picked one up, and studied it, he understood the betting frenzy. For only a five dollar bet, it was possible to win thousands of dollars. Because the bet was not only on a simple win or loss by a team, decisions had to be made regarding how many points that win or loss would be, it was very difficult to make choices. He moved on.

The following day he went to the courthouse, just south of the downtown casinos. It contained a small museum, and some of the area’s history. He saw pictures of Reno’s early days, which were also the early days of legalized gambling in the United States.

Besides the gambling, he had enjoyed the food which was reasonably priced, soaked in the overall feel of the city, and became aware of the variety Reno had to offer. To the west was Sacramento, and farther to the west San Francisco. To the south was Carson City and Lake Tahoe. To the north was a rural and rustic area to be explored all the way to the Oregon border. To the east was a colorful and mysterious desert. Even the downtown area itself was fascinating. There were several very small mom and pop casinos, and a few larger ones with lots of neon. In the afternoons some offered local entertainment, and in the evenings celebrity headliners performed in the larger casinos that had hundreds of hotel rooms, similar to Las Vegas.

On the plane trip home, he made a decision. There was only one thing that he would miss if he ever moved away from Los Angeles, and that was the ocean. But Reno did have Lake Tahoe. Michael was going to move to Reno. It was a place he felt was built for him, a city where he fit. He would miss the ocean, but San Francisco and the northern coast of California were only 3 and ½ hours away. It offered everything else he wanted, the great skiing, the gambling, and, because of the tourism, an ever changing population. He had always been a loner, and in Reno he could be a part of something or nothing, his choice.

Chapter 2

Back home in Los Angeles, he had a job. It was not a career, that was certain. He had no family there, his mother had died tragically when he was not quite eighteen years old. He had dropped out of college after less than two semesters. He needed money, and that meant working a full time job, maybe even two. He had worked in a supermarket as a checker, as a waiter in a medium class restaurant, and presently as a baggage handler for an airline at LAX. He shouldn’t have trouble finding a job in Reno. He wasn’t into material things, so his financial needs were not great.

He began making plans. He would liquidate everything he owned but the necessities. He didn’t have much, he had rented his apartment furnished. He didn’t buy a lot of things, he had no use for possessions, and he never entertained guests. The lease on his apartment would be up in June. He decided to give his notice to the airline in mid May. He would settle down in Reno before the ski season began, and start a new life.

He was so excited about his choice, time seemed to stand still, until about a month before the move. He panicked, there was still much to do. Because of his experience on Mount Rose Highway, he decided it was a necessity to have a vehicle that had four wheel drive. He searched for one in a city that preferred sports cars and convertibles. The most severe weather condition the people in the greater Los Angeles area experienced was a heavy rain, accompanied by thirty mile an hour winds. He finally found a three year old, light blue, Subaru Legacy. Its price was almost equal to his trade in, a Chevy Malibu. It was all wheel drive, which was actually better in all driving conditions than four wheel drive. He decided to take nothing with him but the few treasures he actually considered to have personal value. That wasn’t much. There was a TV, a VCR, a collection of videocassettes to go with it, clothing, and a small microwave oven. There was also a box filled with some kitchen utensils, glasses, cups, silverware, and a few books.

On July 2nd, 1986, he left southern California behind, and moved to Reno.

It was a nice drive, past Mammoth Mountain, straight up 395, giving him ever changing scenery. He was in no hurry, so he seldom reached speeds above 55 miles per hour. He stopped to eat when he felt like it, and left the road to explore some scenic stops along the way. The air outside was warm, and there was a constant smell of pine trees. He enjoyed the quiet of the open highway. He didn’t even turn on the radio. The only sound was air rushing through the open windows. He had feelings of hope for a future filled with opportunities, and peace. He arrived in Reno about ten and a half hours later.

He hadn’t made plans for living quarters in advance, but his previous walks in Reno had given him a solution. There were many motels in downtown Reno that rented rooms by the week. That would do just fine until he could make more permanent arrangements. The first motel he drove into was across the street from the place he had stayed on his vacation. It was a 50’s style building with twelve units, badly in need of painting. He talked to the manager, inspected a sparsely furnished room, and found everything he needed in working order. The rent was reasonable. He had found a home, for now.

He discovered apartment rent in Reno was about half what it was in LA, but so was the pay for the jobs he previously had. Northern Nevada was funded primarily by the casinos, and warehousing. Finding a place to live would be easy, but the one qualification they all shared was that the applicant be employed. That should not be a problem.

First he went to the airport. It was so small, it offered little possibility of employment, mainly because the airlines paid better than most jobs in Reno. Their scale was based on a union agreement reached in conjunction with the larger cities on its routes. Very seldom did anyone quit, so few jobs were ever available. The supermarkets were hiring, but at entry level, and that meant box boy at a pay of five dollars and fifty cents an hour. Not enough to support even his meager living expenses. So he applied at restaurants. In 1986, there were few restaurants outside of the casinos. Michael applied to all of them, casino, and non-casino.

He finally got a job at the steakhouse in the It’s a Circus casino. Calling it a steakhouse was a gross overstatement. It was barely better than a coffee shop. Worse yet, the guests were not in any way of the affluent variety. The casino catered to families. True to its name, it offered continuous circus acts, as well as the largest arcade in northern Nevada. The tips were usually less than ten percent of a bill that was most often under sixty dollars for two adults and two children. That, and a base pay of minimum wage was not going to cut it.

He worked there for six months, basically because he had no other choice. Then came a night when his life was forever changed.

His boss called him aside and informed him that two of the casino’s executives were sitting in his section, and that he should take care of whatever requests they made immediately.

As he went to their booth, he quickly glanced at their name tags. Paul was the Casino Manager, and Al was the General Manager. They were average looking businessmen, probably in their early fifties. He introduced himself, and told them that if they needed anything, just call Michael. They were very polite, and seemed to appreciate his attention. He took their orders, and quickly delivered them to the kitchen with a priority label across the ticket.

While they waited, he was sure to keep their glasses filled with iced tea. Every time he went to the table he overheard them talking about work, and little else. It’s a Circus was part of a major corporation, and the responsibility of making a small operation profitable, such as this particular one in Reno, was very challenging.

Their order