Freezeout: A Cold Poker Gang Mystery

by Smith, Dean Wesley

  “With this case,” Sarge said, “I would be afraid to even take a guess.”

  Pickett laughed at that. “I’m hoping for evidence.”

  “Yeah,” Sarge said. “We can only hope. But not holding my breath. These people have been far too smart for far too long.”

  “And dangerous as well,” Pickett said.

  Sarge only nodded at that.

  Once she parked in her spot in the underground parking garage of the Ogden and they were walking toward the elevator, she asked, “Up for a movie?”

  “I would love one,” he said, smiling at her. “Try to take my mind off of this case.”

  “I might be able to help with that after the movie as well,” Pickett said, smiling at the man she was in love with.

  “If we’re still awake by then,” he said.

  “Oh, wow,” she said, pretending to frown as they got into the elevator. “You sure know how to give a girl a complex.”

  He laughed and kissed her as they rode up the elevator to the penthouse level.

  They had almost made it to his bedroom with Sarge doing his best to make sure she didn’t have a complex, as she said, when Robin called them back.

  “Complex interruptus,” he said, laughing as she took out her phone and they moved into the kitchen.

  “On speaker,” Pickett said, putting the phone on the counter. “We’re in Sarge’s kitchen.”

  “Good spot on the basement of the thrift store,” Robin said. “It’s the size of a large warehouse down there. And the entire place pulls a lot of power at times.”

  “Printers and computer levels of power?” Pickett asked.

  “Even more at times,” Robin said. “Will thinks that’s where they make the fake ids, but that wouldn’t take that kind of power or space. Something else is going on in that basement.”

  “Maybe Mike will find out what?” Sarge said.

  “We hope so,” Robin said. “Will and I have dug about as far as we dare dig without warrants and we have not one shred of evidence to even try to get a warrant.”

  Pickett nodded.

  “We understand that,” Sarge said.

  “Make sure your alarms are on tonight,” Robin said. “We kicked a hornet’s nest today and we have no idea how they might respond.”

  “Copy that,” Pickett said. “You two have a good night. See you at breakfast?”

  “I’ll be there,” Robin said.

  “Breakfast is here tomorrow morning,” Sarge said. “These people use poison as a normal way of killing. We take no chances.”

  Pickett stared at Sarge for a moment, then nodded.

  “See you for breakfast at your place then,” Robin said after a moment. “Gives me a chance to see the kittens again.”

  With that she hung up.

  “Well that was a mood killer,” Pickett said, shaking her head as she clicked off her phone.

  “I’ll make the popcorn,” Sarge said.

  “I’ll go get changed,” Pickett said.

  “And I’ll feed the kittens their snack. You know that Nose has already moved in here.”

  Sarge pointed to the couch where Nose, Pete, and Ree all were sound asleep on the couch together.

  Pickett laughed. “She’s just a little ahead of me is all.”

  “Not by much, I hope.”

  Pickett kissed Sarge. “Not by much, I promise.”

  She headed for the door to go to her place to get changed. She loved the idea Sarge had of knocking an archway between the two condos. Maybe, as soon as they got this case finished, they would do that.

  All they had to do was find some evidence.

  Maybe she would move in before the case wrapped up, since real evidence was something they were in very short supply of at the moment.

  Very short, as in none at all.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  November 21st, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  SARGE WAS ENJOYING cooking breakfast for Pickett and Robin. Both of them had offered to help, but he had told them they could help by keeping the kittens entertained and refilling his coffee when it got low.

  He managed to actually get them some ham and cheese omelets that looked pretty good, a small slice of ham, and toast and get it all out almost at the same time.

  They all went to the table upstairs that showed the late-fall morning out over Las Vegas. It looked a little cold and gray and cloudy, but the view made up for anything like that.

  “I keep forgetting how spectacular the view is from up here,” Robin said as she put out a pitcher of orange juice and a coffee pot.

  Sarge had just put all three of their plates on the table and Pickett was bringing up the coffee cups and a pot of coffee for refills.

  “It really is stunning,” Pickett said.

  “I can’t imagine ever getting used to it,” Sarge said. And he couldn’t. It seemed fresh every time he came up to this level.

  Earlier in the month he and Pickett came up here on warm evenings and just sat with a glass of wine on the balcony and talked and stared at the view of the city. He was already looking forward to the spring when the weather would allow them for a time to do that again.

  “So Will’s people didn’t find much more last night,” Robin said after they all settled in to eat. “On the surface that thrift shop does some fantastic charity work for women’s issues around town.”

  “On the surface?” Pickett asked right before Sarge could.

  “Nothing we can find other than that,” Robin said. “And no reason at all for that basement.”

  They talked while they ate and at one point had a great laugh at all three kittens chasing each other up the stairs, around them, and then back down. Sarge could not tell which kitten was doing the chasing. They seemed to take turns all in mid-stride.

  They had just started into their coffee when Sarge’s phone rang. He knew from the number it was Mike.

  “Any luck?” Sarge asked as he clicked on the phone.

  “More than expected,” Mike said. “You guys at the Nugget?”

  “My place,” Sarge said. “All three of us.”

  “I’m ten minutes out,” Mike said. “I need to tell you three some of this in person.”

  He hung up and Sarge put the phone back in his shirt pocket and looked at the concerned faces of Pickett and Robin. “Mike’s on his way with news.”

  Both nodded and all three of them stood and gathered up the dishes and headed down to the kitchen. They had breakfast cleaned up and the dishwasher going as Mike rang the bell.

  Sarge poured him a cup of coffee and they all four went back upstairs to talk.

  “Wow,” Mike said, looking around at the view. “This can’t be beat.”

  “That I agree,” Sarge said.

  “So here’s the news,” Mike said. “That basement is a sanctuary for abused women.”

  Sarge sat back. That was not at all what he was expecting.

  “In fact,” Mike said, “It’s one of three in the city for women and there is one for men as well, completely hidden, and part of a nationwide underground-railroad type of operation.”

  Robin looked at Mike. “So they get women and kids new ids, money, a new place to live, and get them out of town and away from abusive husbands?”

  “Exactly,” Mike said. “Each sanctuary has family living centers, counselors, and a hospital area for injuries.”

  Sarge kept shaking his head. He knew there were women’s shelters around town, but in all his years as a cop he had never heard of anything like this.

  Pickett seemed as stunned as he felt.

  “Women from other cities are coming into Las Vegas,” Mike said, “with new lives and abused women from here are sent to other places.”

  “This sounds amazing,” Robin said.

  “So if these five sisters have this sort of resource,” Pickett said, “why are they killing abusive men instead of just rescuing the women and kids?”

  “Some women don’t want to be rescued,” Sarge sai
d, softly, remembering more than he wanted to remember of beat-up women who refused to press charges against their husbands.

  All three of the others nodded. They had all seen it far, far too often. And far, far too often the women and sometimes the children ended up dead in short order.

  They all sat silent for a moment, then Mike said, “There is no doubt that both Strickland and Newell are connected to this women’s shelter. Both are part of a fairly large donor network and Strickland does work for the shelter when needed. More than likely helping them set up safe homes for the women and families coming in here in Las Vegas.”

  “So we have a network of underground shelters doing great work,” Robin said, “and five serial killer sisters that might or might not be linked to the shelter in some way.”

  Pickett nodded.

  Mike just sort of looked pained.

  “And if they are linked to the shelter or the deaths,” Sarge said, “we still are sitting here without a lick of evidence to prove any of it.”

  “I feel almost dirty now even trying,” Pickett said.

  Sarge could only nod to that. He had no idea what they should do next except keep on trying to find the killers, if the women were the killers, and hope they weren’t connected to the shelters in any way.

  He had a hunch they were connected, but not in any way that could be proven.

  And he was convinced that all the good people working at the shelter would know nothing about the five sisters killing abusive men.

  This case had just become a no-win case.

  And he hated that.

  PART SEVEN

  Freezeout…The End Game

  THIRTY-FIVE

  November 21st, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  PICKETT HATED WITH a passion how this case had turned. Over the years as a detective, she had always liked cases that were more black and white, good versus bad, cops versus murderers.

  This case was so far from black and white, she didn’t know what to do. Even though she couldn’t prove it in any way, she knew she had five sisters who had killed at least eighty-five men.

  The fact that the men were abusive husbands didn’t matter. They were human beings and the sisters had choices other than cold-blooded murder.

  But now there was a chance the sisters were tied into a person she considered a good friend, James Newell, and also a women’s shelter that clearly did the work of saints in helping protect women and families.

  But they had no proof on that either.

  All speculations.

  And not even Mike, with all his computer specialty work, could make any link at all with Newell, Strickland, the five sisters, or the women’s shelter under the thrift store.

  “So we’re at a dead end,” Sarge said.

  The four of them were still sitting at the table in his loft, the fantastic view of the city around them.

  Robin and Mike nodded.

  “I hate this,” Pickett said. “There has to be some way we can tie those sisters to at least one murder without dragging down the shelter at the same time.”

  “That’s what we work on then,” Robin said.

  Sarge nodded. “And we have to find the sisters and stop them before they kill again, remember.”

  Pickett agreed to that. It seemed at this point that was all they could do.

  Mike left to get back to work and Pickett and Sarge and Robin sat staring into space, trying to figure out what to do next.

  Pickett had not one idea.

  Not one.

  “Facial recognition,” Sarge said. “Possible to develop a program that would scan for faces from grocery stores, drug stores, traffic cams, places like that?”

  Robin nodded. “Long shot and a lot of data. But we might get lucky and find one of them.”

  “And if we find a sister,” Pickett asked, “then what?”

  As she expected, neither Sarge nor Robin had an answer to that one. But she knew they had to try.

  “So what else can we do on this fine Monday?” Pickett asked.

  “I have to go shopping,” Sarge said, smiling. “I was hoping I could cook a turkey dinner on Thursday for you two and Will and maybe a few others from the Cold Poker Gang who didn’t have anywhere to go.”

  Pickett looked stunned. “Didn’t know you could cook a turkey dinner.”

  “Used to all the time,” he said. “But the last few years just went out. But this year, if you two would like, I can give it another try.”

  Pickett smiled and kissed him. “I would love that.”

  And she would. It sounded wonderful.

  “Count me and Will in as well,” Robin said.

  At that moment Robin’s phone rang. She glanced at the phone and Pickett watched Robin’s face go white.

  “It’s James,” Robin said.

  “Well,” Sarge said, “we did kick his nest a little yesterday.”

  Pickett felt as surprised as Robin looked.

  Robin clicked on the phone and said, “Hi, James. Can I put you on speaker? Pickett and Sarge are here as well.”

  She nodded and clicked on the speaker and put the phone down on the table between them.

  “Hi, James,” Pickett said.

  “Robin, Pickett, Sarge, great talking with you again,” James said.

  Pickett was surprised that his voice sounded perfectly normal and not in the slightest bit stressed.

  “What can we do for you, James?” Robin asked.

  “Actually,” James said, “It’s what I can do for you. I know you three have been looking into a special thrift store out on the Boulder Highway. Thought you might want a tour.”

  “We would love one,” Robin said. “Very kind of you.”

  Robin’s eyes were round and Pickett was as surprised as Robin was looking.

  Sarge just sat there shaking his head.

  “I can be there in about one hour,” James said, “if you three are free.”

  “We are,” Robin said.

  “See you then,” James said.

  Robin clicked off the phone and then just stared at it.

  “What just happened there?”

  “He seems to know everything we are doing,” Sarge said.

  Sarge picked up the phone and hit a call number. After a moment Sarge said, “Mike, need your help in two areas.”

  Sarge nodded.

  “We just got a call from Newell offering to show us the shelter in one hour.”

  “Back-up would be fantastic, thanks,” Sarge said after a moment. “And could you sweep my condo and Pickett’s condo for bugs? Newell seems to know what we are doing at any moment.”

  Sarge nodded. “Thanks.”

  Sarge hung up. “Mike and his people will have us covered completely if something happens in that shelter. He’s going to meet us in thirty-five minutes at the Burger King down the road from the shelter and give us bugs and tracking pins that should work through any kind of blocks. Plus he’ll track our phones.”

  Pickett nodded. “Really good thinking.”

  “I just wish I knew what the hell we were walking into,” Robin said.

  “Just don’t touch or eat or drink anything,” Sarge said, smiling.

  “Not funny,” Pickett said.

  “Yeah,” Robin said.

  Sarge just chuckled.

  Ten minutes later Pickett was pulling out of the underground garage and turning to head out the Boulder Highway. She had a hunch that one way or another, they were going to get some answers on all this very soon.

  She just had no idea what the answers might be.

  THIRTY-SIX

  November 21st, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  SARGE MADE SURE his tracking button was secure and well-hidden. And that his gun was loaded. He had no idea what they were walking into here, but considering they had no other real leads, this seemed to be the only solution.

  Just under one hour from when they had said they would meet Newell, Pickett pulled her SUV into the driveway of
the thrift store and parked in the parking area around back.

  The lot was larger than it had looked from the street and if all of that was open underground, it would be huge. And there wasn’t the slightest bit of evidence that anything existed under the old, cracked pavement.

  The morning air still had a bite to it, but the day promised to be a nice one. As they were headed toward the front of the thrift shop, James Newell drove in.

  He parked his white Cadillac four-door next to Pickett’s SUV and the three of them waited for him to get out and join them.

  “Thanks for the tour,” Robin said as he approached.

  “I was expecting to give it the moment you two came out to my house,” Newell said. He pointed around at the vast parking lot. “We’re all pretty proud of the work we do here. And in other three sanctuaries like it around the city.”

  Sarge just nodded and neither Pickett nor Robin said a word.

  Newell led them through the front door of the thrift shop and said “hi” to a woman working behind the counter. Sarge missed her name, but Newell pointed to the three of them.

  “Three of Las Vegas’ finest detectives.”

  The woman nodded, looked around to make sure no one else was in the shop and pushed a button.

  A shelf with lots of junk kitchen items on the back wall swung open and Newell led the way in behind it.

  A bright light came up behind the shelf and showed a clean and modern staircase heading down.

  Pickett glanced at Sarge, clearly not happy that in less than a month two cases had taken them underground. Sarge had to admit he wasn’t that happy about it either.

  At the bottom of the stairs was a large metal door.

  Newel punched in a code he didn’t let them see into a lock box and the door swung open.

  Beyond was a reception area that looked like a modern hospital reception area. It was bright, with modern furniture, and a smiling woman sitting behind the desk. A large screen television showed changing desert shots on one wall, giving the sense the room had windows.

  The woman was thin, in her middle thirties, maybe, and looked completely in shape. She had on a white blouse and dress slacks.