They headed back to the Ogden at a comfortable walk. Sarge was really enjoying the cool morning air and being with Pickett, but he just couldn’t get his mind off of one element of this case.
The money.
Finally, he decided that he needed to talk about what he was thinking about.
“I’m bothered by the money on all this,” Sarge said.
“So am I,” Pickett said, smiling. “In fact, that was what I was thinking about.”
Sarge laughed and squeezed her hand.
“So let me outline what has me the most worried on this about the money,” Pickett said.
“Fire away,” Sarge said. “I bet we’re on the same track.”
“The women leave everything behind,” Pickett said. “They are going to need a brand new wardrobe, hairstyle, everything. And that’s not cheap, let me tell you.”
Sarge nodded. “I honestly hadn’t thought of that. I was thinking about a new apartment, first and last month’s rent, new furniture to look the part they were playing, and so on.”
“And they would already have much of that set up ahead of leaving,” Pickett said. “Not only are these women masters of disguises, but in banking and setting up fake bank identities as well.”
“Cars,” Sarge said. “The sisters are buying five cars a year as well.”
“This is really adding up,” Pickett said as they reached the ground floor of the Ogden building. “And over seventeen years, where is the money coming from?”
“We’re missing something,” Sarge said. “I can feel it but darned if I can put my finger on it. And it has to do with the money.”
“How about we go up to the rooftop balcony in your place,” Pickett said, “get a couple cups of fresh coffee and sit with our notebooks staring out over the city.”
“A perfect way to spend a Sunday morning in my opinion,” Sarge said.
And it was.
But in two hours and three cups of coffee, they made no progress at all. But Sarge didn’t mind, actually. Sitting with Pickett and staring over the wonderful view was reward enough.
TWENTY-SEVEN
November 20th, 2016
Las Vegas, Nevada
SARGE MADE THEM a light sandwich for lunch and after lunch they decided they both needed some exercise. For Pickett, that was the best way to clear her brain.
So after forty minutes of weights and running, she was back in her shower when one thought sort of came at her out of the blue.
What happens if the sisters weren’t the only ones?
Pickett quickly got dressed and headed over to Sarge’s place. He was out of the shower, but still getting dressed. He looked up at her and smiled when she came into his bedroom.
Damn, he was the most handsome man she could ever imagine being in love with. His muscles were still toned, his hair a gray that made him look distinguished, and his smile when he looked at her told her just exactly how lucky she was.
“Had this really horrid thought,” she said as Sarge went back to putting on his shoes. “What happens if the sisters aren’t the only ones doing this sort of thing?”
Sarge looked up at her, clearly shocked and a little puzzled.
“What are you thinking?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Pickett said. “As far as we can tell, these five sisters arrived in Vegas young and with no money.”
“Perfect targets for every lowlife wanting to take advantage of them,” Sarge said, nodding and going back to putting on his shoes.
“Exactly,” Pickett said. “We’re running into professional ids right from year one with these girls, lots of money from the start, no mistakes at all that we can find, and a perfect way of killing targets.”
Sarge looked at her. “Hard to imagine five sisters right out of the foster system having that kind of skill set just a year or so later.”
“Bingo,” Pickett said, feeling excited. “These sisters were trained and sponsored and if they were trained, who else was trained with them or since and who did the training?”
“Damn, you were right,” Sarge said, looking suddenly worried, “this is a really horrid thought.”
“We’re dealing with professionals here, just as with the tunnel case,” Pickett said.
She grabbed her cell phone out of her pocket. “I’ll call Robin and Will, you warn Mike Dans to be careful with the marriage licenses.”
Sarge moved quickly to the dresser and grabbed his cell phone as Pickett headed toward the kitchen with hers.
Their three kittens were all sleeping on the couch in the sun in the living room. Nose was on the back of the couch, Pete and Ree were stretched out on the cushions. Pickett knew those three kittens belonged together, just as she and Sarge did.
Robin answered and before she could say more than a word, Pickett told Robin what she and Sarge had come up with.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Robin said when Pickett finished and hung up.
Pickett smiled at the phone and put it on the counter as Sarge came out of the bedroom.
“Mike hadn’t gone in yet and will be cautious,” Sarge said.
“Robin swore at me and hung up,” Pickett said, laughing.
“I think you just kicked a hornet’s nest here,” Sarge said.
“Yeah, maybe so,” Pickett said.
Sarge glanced over at the three sleeping kittens, then back at her. “You up for a nap before we head out.
Pickett smiled. “I would love that.”
Sarge took her hand and they headed back into his bedroom to curl up together on his large bed.
Both of them had their cell phones with them. Even on a lazy Sunday afternoon, they were still detectives.
TWENTY-EIGHT
November 20th, 2016
Las Vegas, Nevada
THIRTY MINUTES LATER it was Pickett’s cell phone that woke them up.
“Yeah,” Pickett said.
Sarge stretched and tried to listen. He couldn’t hear a thing.
Finally Picket said, “Hang on, I’m putting you on speakerphone. Tell us again what you just said.”
She sat up on the edge of the bed and put her phone on the bed between them.
“Okay,” Robin said as Pickett clicked on the speaker. “There is some pretty sophisticated tracking going on with each of the sister’s last three names. Will and I are both pretty sure we didn’t trigger anything and we have backed off completely now until we can work under the tracking.”
“Tracking?” Pickett asked a half second before Sarge could.
“They are monitoring any kind of investigation into the sisters’ driver’s licenses, missing person reports, and so on. Anything under that name is being watched. Including the two open possible murder cases.”
“Wow,” Sarge said, sitting up on the bed and putting a few pillows behind his back against the headboard. He was now completely awake.
“You check into Strickland?” Pickett asked. “He’s done an investigation on Buddy Charles’ wife.”
Robin laughed. “Henry isn’t going to like this, but his systems were bugged. The downloads only happen from his system once a week and we managed to get in and block the next download.”
“You want us to tell him,” Sarge asked.
“Yeah,” Pickett said, “but not in his office. It might be bugged as well. We can find no trace of any, but I would rather have him looking than us.”
“These people are that sophisticated?” Pickett asked.
“They are and this approach has answered a lot of questions for Will,” Robin said. “This is a well-funded operation which explains the money and the high level of fake backgrounds and ids.”
Sarge just shook his head on that. How could this even be? And why? Why would anyone fund this sort of thing?
“We’ve expanded our search to other abusers who were killed,” Robin said. “You would be amazed at how many cases of food poisoning are reported in Las Vegas every year.”
“Not sure I want to know that,” Sarge said, laughing
.
“Considering how many millions of meals that are served in restaurants every day in this city,” Robin said, “the chances are very, very slim of anyone having a problem.”
“But it happens enough to cover up these murders,” Pickett said.
“It does,” Robin said. “And often these men who are targeted have other underlying health issues, mostly diabetes, bad hearts, or alcoholism, so often that is written down as a cause of death.”
“Logical,” Sarge said. He couldn’t even begin to remember the numbers of dead body calls he got over the years. When a person was found dead, alone in a hotel room, it was always considered a crime scene until other causes were determined. And that meant a detective had to look at the scene. Many of the scenes and bodies had not been pretty.
“We’re being very careful now with the searches,” Robin said. “We’re looking for the same pattern now with missing persons and men with records of abuse suddenly dying.”
“We’ll go talk with Strickland,” Pickett said.
Robin laughed. “Have fun with that. Back with you when we have more.”
Then she hung up.
Sarge looked at Pickett who had also moved to sit up on the edge of the big bed.
“What the hell have we stumbled into now?” Pickett asked, shaking her head.
“My guess would be a major vigilante operation,” Sarge said. “More than likely, just as with the sisters, all for revenge.”
Pickett nodded.
They sat there on the bed in silence, thinking.
Sarge knew that both of them had seen their fair share of women beaten by their husbands. And a few instances of men being beaten and killed by their wives. Nothing good ever came out of such crimes.
Sarge believed that the abusers should be punished and given help for their problems. And at times he had remembered walking into a scene that was so brutal he actually wanted to just pull out his gun and shoot the abuser.
But he never had and never would.
These women might be picking victims that were, on the surface, bad people. But it did not excuse serial murder.
Nothing did.
TWENTY-NINE
November 20th, 2016
Las Vegas, Nevada
HENRY STRICKLAND WAS stunned that they called him on a Sunday afternoon, but he agreed to meet them outside his office in thirty minutes.
Pickett splashed some water on her face and then got a bottle of water for her and for Sarge out of his fridge. The three kittens had moved from the couch to spots along the window, still in the sun. Like most cats, they didn’t notice that she and Sarge left.
The Sunday afternoon traffic was light and the day had never really gotten warm, although the sky was a deep, rich blue.
The drive was easy and when they got to Strickland’s office, Sarge got out and moved to the back seat as Strickland came out and climbed in the front.
“So I’m assuming there is a reason for meeting in the car and not in there,” Strickland said as he closed the door.
“We’re afraid your office might be bugged,” Sarge said.
Strickland actually laughed at that. “Not a chance in hell.”
That was exactly the reaction Pickett expected him to have.
“Your computer system was bugged,” Pickett said. “Robin and Will found it and got it stopped from its weekly download of your files.”
Strickland opened his mouth and then closed it again. Then he asked, clearly anger in his voice, “Why and how did you know to even look?”
Pickett held up her hand for him to stop.
“Robin will send you the information about the bug,” Pickett said. “Beyond my level. The reason is because of your case investigating Buddy Charles’ wife.”
“The five sisters are that sophisticated?” Strickland asked.
“No,” Sarge said. “We don’t think so. We think there is an organization, a sponsor of some sort that has trained them and been behind them for the last seventeen years.”
“Oh, shit,” Strickland said.
“That’s why the incredible new identities,” Pickett said, “and where all the money it would cost a sister to set up a new life every year came from.”
“Got any idea who?” Strickland asked, shaking his head.
“Nothing yet,” Sarge said. “These people are good, really good. We may never find them.”
“But we are worried that they may be backing more vigilantes than just the sisters,” Pickett said.
“So check your office,” Sarge said. “Carefully. These people are damned good, as we said. Maybe have Mike come in and help you with the check to be sure. He’s got all the best equipment to make sure everything is clear.”
Strickland nodded. “I’ll call Mike at once. From out here.”
Pickett liked the private detective. He was rolling with this and doing what needed to be done.
“So what can I do to help?” Strickland asked.
“First off,” Pickett said, “you call Mike and get him on the way, then call Robin and she and Will can explain the bug in your computer system and how it worked.”
Strickland nodded.
“Then after you feel you are completely clean,” Pickett said, “we could use your help searching your files for other cases that could be vigilante. Bad people getting what seemed to be coming to them. Or missing person cases that seem to make sense if looked at from this angle.”
“You’ll need to do it alone,” Sarge said. “On a closed system. Have Mike help you set that up.”
“I will,” Strickland said. “Thank you for this. I owe you both one. I’ll call if I find even a whiff of strangeness. I want to catch these bastards just for the chance of punching one of them in the face for hacking my system.”
Pickett and Sarge both laughed as Strickland got out and moved over to the sidewalk in front of his office to call Mike.
Sarge got out and climbed into the front seat, then said simply, in his cold, calm voice, “Pull away from here, get out of sight and stop and park.”
Pickett looked at him, feeling stunned, but did as he said as Sarge pulled out his phone.
“Robin,” Sarge said. “Are you guys good enough to find out who Strickland is talking to right now on his cell phone? Or who he just called in the last minute or so?”
Sarge nodded. “Just a gut sense is all. And check that bug that was in his system. How long had it been there?”
Sarge nodded as Pickett pulled the car over in front of an empty lot and parked it.
“I hope I am wrong about this,” Sarge said as he clicked his phone onto speaker.
“Shit, shit, shit!!” Robin said a few second later. “That bug was in his system for over ten years.”
“Afraid of that,” Sarge said. “It wasn’t a bug, just an easy way to report in.”
And Will’s voice came in from the back. “You are never going to believe who Strickland just called. James Newell.”
Pickett felt her stomach clamp up and Sarge’s eyes were round.
“You’re sure?” Pickett asked softly.
“Completely sure,” Will’s voice said from the background.
“He’s calling Mike now,” Robin said.
“We told him to,” Pickett said. “So he’s going to have to do that.”
“After he is done with the call to Mike, let me know,” Sarge said. “I’ll call Mike, tell him what is happening.”
“And we’ll dig for a history of abuse in James’ family,” Robin said.
“Check his computer files that you got from the bug,” Sarge said. “I’m betting buried in that there are files on all five sisters and maybe others doing similar things.”
“Will do,” Robin said. “I’ll call you when Strickland is off the phone with Mike.” Then she hung up.
Sarge pocketed his phone.
Pickett just sat there, feeling stunned. Finally she turned to Sarge.
“What tipped you to Strickland?”
“Coincidence a
t first,” Sarge said. “He’s had his firm for exactly seventeen years.”
Pickett nodded. “I saw that as well.”
“His tone when you told him there was a bug in his system,” Sarge said. “He wasn’t angry about the bug being there, he was angry at Will and Robin for getting into his system and finding it. He covered quickly, but that shocked him.”
Pickett nodded. “I thought his reaction was as I expected. I only heard the anger, not what it was directed at. Great spot.”
“Also,” Sarge said, “when we told him about the five sisters, he was stunned we knew that, not surprised at the information.”
“Missed all of that,” Pickett said, shaking her head. “And it’s obvious now that you point it out.”
“That’s why the three of us are partners,” Sarge said. “We all see different things. But sure sorry to have James involved with this.”
“There would have to be a reason,” Pickett said. “So not going to believe it until we find that reason.”
Sarge nodded and said nothing.
She sure hoped in her heart that Strickland calling James would turn out to be something else. Anything else.
But her detective gut told her it wouldn’t.
PART SIX
The Big Play
THIRTY
November 20th, 2016
Las Vegas, Nevada
PICKETT DECIDED TO move them away from Strickland’s office so Sarge suggested they head to the Bellagio for Sunday dinner.
Robin called Sarge back as Pickett got them headed down the Strip. “Strickland is off the phone with Mike.”
Sarge said, “Thanks.”
This was going to be tough to explain to Mike, but he had to do it and do it quickly.
Mike picked up on the first ring. “Sarge, what can I do for you?”
“When are you meeting Strickland?”
“Tomorrow morning in his office,” Mike said. “He wants me to check for bugs and set up an area of his office with a secure work station.”
Freezeout: A Cold Poker Gang Mystery Page 9