Kill Game: A Cold Poker Gang Mystery

by Smith, Dean Wesley

  Andor smiled. “The Chief of Police isn’t happy we can’t arrest this guy either, so he offered to put a car watching the house until we got there. Rocha is still inside. So what say we go jerk this guy’s chain a little?”

  Lott liked that idea a lot.

  And beside him, Julia nodded and smiled. Then she said simply, “It will be my pleasure.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  October, 2014

  Near the University of Nevada Campus

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  JULIA SAT BESIDE LOTT in his Cadillac SUV and stared at the home tucked back under some trees in an older subdivision. Stan had ended up living a lot nicer than she and Jane had ever lived. And that made her angry as well.

  Andor pulled in behind Lott and behind him Annie and the reporter arrived. Their plan was simple. Andor and Lott would go up to the door and introduce themselves. She would stay off to one side until the moment was right to step forward.

  A television crew would be filming the entire thing from a hidden van across the street and a freelance photographer had joined Austin and would be taking pictures, for a time without Rocha even knowing about it.

  Also, both Lott and Andor were wired for sound, so everyone in all the cars could hear the conversation.

  “You ready for this?” Lott glanced over at her, clearly worried.

  “If I hadn’t discovered all the really shitty things this guy did to a lot of people, I wouldn’t be. Now I’m just angry and want to bring him to justice, even if that justice is to take all his money and turn him over to the IRS.”

  “So that means you’re ready?” Lott asked, smiling.

  “I’m twenty-two years of ready,” she said, smiling back at him.

  With that they both stepped out into the warm afternoon air. It wasn’t hot and a soft breeze blew the leaves in the trees.

  “Nice place,” Andor said, joining the two of them as they headed across the street.

  “Better than any of the four wives he cheated got to live in,” she said.

  “Just don’t shoot the bastard, Detective,” Andor said. “Even though I doubt a jury in the world would convict you.”

  Julia laughed. “Oh trust me, we’re not letting him off that easily.”

  The house was a two-story Tudor-style building with high-pitched roof and a front door that was up four steps off the sidewalk. The lawn was well-cared-for and very green, considering how hot the summer had been.

  Julia stepped off to one side so when Rocha opened the door, he wouldn’t see her.

  Lott and Andor went up to the door and Lott turned to the cars across the street and signaled they should start.

  Then Andor banged on the door.

  A moment later Julia heard the door open and a man say, “Yes?”

  “Detectives Lott and Williams,” Andor said. “Are you David Buel?”

  “I am,” the man said, and that time the memory of Stan’s voice came back strong.

  “AKA Stan Rocha?” Lott said.

  “Excuse me?” the man asked.

  Julia stepped away from the side of the building and walked up the four steps until she was face-to-face with her husband. He had aged and his skin had weathered in twenty-two years. He now wore a moustache and beard. His hairline had receded and his hair had gone to salt and pepper. He had on brown slacks and a brown dress shirt and looked like any fifty-some-year-old executive home on a warm afternoon.

  He looked at her puzzled for a moment until she said, “Hi, Stan. Nice seeing you so healthy after all these years of being dead.”

  He hesitated, his eyes growing wide as he recognized her. “Julia?”

  “Detective Rogers to you,” she said, her voice as cold as she could make it. “When you and your first wife and her boyfriend hatched the scheme to help you escape from your children and your mistakes, you lost all right to call me anything but Detective.”

  “So,” Andor said, his voice low and mean, “We need you to step out of the house, sir, so we can talk with you.”

  Andor had his hand on his gun when he made that request, and Julia saw Stan swallow hard and nod.

  Julia stepped down onto the sidewalk and Lott followed her.

  Andor flanked Stan and they moved so that Stan was facing the television van and cameras.

  “First off, Mr. Rocha, why did you fake your own death?” Andor asked.

  Stan looked slightly panicked. “Kate wanted out and she and McDonald were afraid that if I got caught with so many wives, it would look poorly on them.”

  “So you stole a body from Reno?” Lott said as Julia stood there, staring at her husband.

  He kept glancing at her and then his eyes would dart away.

  “No, I didn’t take the body. Kate and McDonald did that in his van. It made me sick to have to help them dress the body in my clothes when they got down here.”

  Julia just shook her head at the excuse of a man she had married. The poor bastard had just cost the governor of Idaho his job.

  “And when exactly did you find the lost Breyfogle Mine? And start the Breyfogle Corporation?” Lott asked, setting Stan up to lose all his money.

  “Early 1989,” Stan said, actually acting proud for a moment.

  “And you didn’t keep track of your other four wives?” Andor said. “Or any of your five kids?”

  Stan shook his head and actually hung his head a little. “Kate said I didn’t dare, being dead and all.” Then he looked up, surprised. “Five?”

  Julia didn’t give him the courtesy of telling him about Jane. He didn’t deserve to know. It would be up to Jane later on to decide if she wanted her father to know about her.

  “So you left them for single mothers to raise?” Lott asked. “Most of your wives, you know, never heard about your fake death. They just thought you walked out on them.”

  “Oh,” Stan said, his face going whiter than it had been before. “That’s not what I wanted.”

  “And you left your mother and father wondering when you would come home,” Andor said. “They didn’t hear about your little scheme either.”

  Stan just shook his head, staring at the ground in front of him.

  “Aren’t you even a little bit sorry?” Julia asked, her voice far, far colder than she intended it to be.

  “Every day,” Stan said. “Four years after we staged my death, I told Kate I couldn’t stand it anymore and wanted to see my children. But she said they would kill me if I ever opened my mouth or showed my face.

  At that, Andor coughed, turning away slightly, trying to cover a laugh.

  All Julia could do was shake her head.

  “So did you find other lost treasures?” Lott asked.

  Stan nodded, his face brightening again. “I did. And I’m still looking for the Lost Dutchman Mine.”

  “Well, I doubt you are going to be doing much of that from where you are going,” Andor said.

  Stan just looked puzzled.

  Julia stared at the man she had let trick her for years. What had she ever seen in such a worthless piece of human trash?

  Julia turned her back on her husband and waved for the reporter and camera crew in the van to come on over.

  Stan’s eyes got huge as he saw them come out of the van and another car.

  “We expect you to answer every question they have for you honestly,” Andor said, his hand back on his gun. He had moved between Stan and the door of his home. “I’ll be right here making sure.”

  Lott and Julia started to walk away together when Stan called out to her. “Julia?”

  She spun and walked back to him, getting right up into his face. “My name is Detective Rogers to you, asshole,” she said, almost spitting at him. “And if you don’t answer every question these reporters have for you completely and honestly, you will see me and my gun and my handcuffs once again and it won’t be pleasant. Do you understand?”

  Stan swallowed and then nodded.

  “Do we have an agreement?” she demanded, inches from his fa
ce.

  “Yes,” he said softly.

  “Yes what?” she shouted back at him.

  “Yes, Detective,” he said.

  “That’s better. Now make sure you answer everything truthfully. Trust me, you never want to see me again.”

  He nodded and she spun and strode back toward Lott.

  Then she winked at him and she could tell that he barely got turned away from Stan before breaking into a smile and choking down the laughter.

  Damned if that hadn’t felt good. For the first time in a lot of years she felt free.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  October, 2014

  Near the University of Nevada Campus

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  THEY CLIMBED BACK in the car and Julia looked over at the handsome man sitting beside her.

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling at him. She really had fallen for this man and she knew he had fallen for her. They both had a distance to go to get healthy and learn about each other, but she knew that would be part of the fun.

  “I think that was all my pleasure,” Lott said, giving her that grin she loved so much. “After all these years, it’s great to put that case away for good.”

  “And that husband as well,” she said.

  Lott laughed at that and then asked, “So where next? Detective?”

  She looked into his eyes and smiled. “I’ve got a daughter who lives about five blocks from here. I think it’s about time I tell her about her father, don’t you?”

  “Before she sees it on the news,” Lott said, indicating the camera and reporter on the front lawn across the street.

  “Yeah, better from me than that way. I’ll give you the directions.”

  He glanced at her, a line of worry crossing his face. “You want me along?”

  “Damn right I do,” Julia said. “You two better get used to each other, since I plan on hanging around you for some time to come.”

  “I like the sounds of that,” he said, breaking back into a wide smile and pulling the car away from the curb.

  She reached over and rested her hand gently on his leg and said simply, “So do I, Detective. So do I.”

  The Cold Poker Gang Mysteries continue with the next book in the series, Cold Call. Following is a sample chapter from that book.

  CHAPTER ONE

  May 21, 2002

  9:30 P.M.

  Lake Mead, Outside of Las Vegas, Nevada

  They’d come to the edge of the big lake to celebrate.

  It was Danny and Carrie Coswell’s first wedding anniversary, and since the night was so warm and both had just finished another long semester at UNLV, they had decided to go back to the place they used to go while dating.

  It seemed right. Danny had loved the idea when Carrie suggested it over great steak dinners at the MGM Grand Hotel. They had gone home and changed clothes after the fancy dinner, changing back into their jeans and t-shirts and carrying sweatshirts in case the night cooled.

  Danny loved how Carrie looked with her long blonde hair pulled back and her trim figure. Both of them ran for exercise and at times their class and study schedules allowed them to run together.

  Danny really enjoyed being out at the lake, but Carrie liked it even more. She had told him that being along the vast expanse of Lake Mead made her feel part of the world. The silence and the wild of the shores of the lake were a sharp contrast to the constant motion and noise of Las Vegas.

  He and Carrie were what some called childhood sweethearts. He knew he had loved her since the very first time he had seen her walking the halls of their high school, her books clutched against her chest, trying to find her locker. They had both been in the tenth grade and he offered to help her find her locker and they had became friends, then dated all the way through school after that.

  They had wonderful memories of all the dances together, graduating together, and two years later getting married.

  Below them, the lake was calm, its black surface spread out to the outlines of the hills on the other side. The faint moonlight shimmered across the water, making the night feel just a little brighter.

  When dating, they would often go down the gentle gravel slope to the edge of the water, maybe even do some skinny dipping. But tonight they were content to sit on a blanket on the slight bluff, holding hands, leaning into each other, just talking about their first year of marriage, and their plans for the future.

  Danny had called it their private place because they were tucked into what felt like a fort of brush and small scrub trees on the bluff. No one could see them, even down along the shore. And it was on a blanket in this private place that they had first made love in their senior year of high school.

  The shelter in the brush with a view of the lake was a perfect place to dream about the future, and they had used it often to plan everything from their wedding to which classes to take.

  Then a dark Mercedes eased slowly down the gravel road toward the edge of the lake, its lights off, its wheels making cracking noises on the rocks, its engine muffled by the tall, thick brush that lined the top of the bluffs along this part of the lake.

  There was just enough moonlight to see the worn gravel road used during the day by fishermen and at night by kids like Danny and Carrie. Danny had parked their Toyota Camry in some brush about fifty paces back up the hill. It couldn’t be seen at all from the gravel road.

  The Mercedes was the wrong kind of car for a lake adventure. Danny could clearly hear the beautifully engineered chassis scrape against the rocks and bumps of the rough gravel and dirt road.

  The only reason Danny could get his Camry this close to the lake was because he knew every bump and large dip. Clearly the Mercedes driver did not.

  “What’s a car like that doing on a road like this?” Danny whispered.

  “I just want to know when he’s going to leave,” Carrie whispered back. She smiled at him. “I have plans for you, and I don’t want an audience.”

  He laughed. Even after all the years, they still had a good time out here along the lake.

  “He can’t see us,” Danny said. “More than likely just some rich daddy’s kid on a date with his dad’s car.”

  “Dad’s not going to be happy if he notices the scrapes under the car,” Carrie said, laughing softly.

  The driver of the Mercedes stopped ten paces short of the edge of the bluff overlooking the water on the other side of the road.

  Danny watched as a tall man got out. In the faint light from the Mercedes interior, Danny couldn’t see the man’s face, but Danny could see that the man had on a suit nearly as expensive as the car he drove.

  “Not a date,” Danny whispered.

  Carrie grasped Danny’s hand and said nothing as they watched.

  The man opened the back door of his car and dug out a pair of dark coveralls. He pulled them on over his suit, put a dark hat on his head, and dark gloves on his hands.

  With one final movement, he put on plastic boots over his shoes, the kind that golfers wear over their golf shoes on a rainy day.

  Given that the night was perfect, not a sign of rain in sight, Danny had no idea what the man was up to with all the protective gear. But Danny’s stomach was telling him it wasn’t good.

  Then, whistling a faint tune that seemed to just drift on the slight wind, the man moved around to the trunk of his car and opened it.

  Since Danny and Carrie were just above the man and the trunk light came on, it was clear there was a human body in the trunk.

  Carrie inhaled, about to scream, but Danny put a hand over her mouth before she could make a sound. He could feel her trembling beneath his touch.

  Or more than likely, that was his own hand shaking.

  With a swift motion, the man in the expensive suit and coveralls yanked a woman’s body out of the trunk and slammed her to the ground on the rocks and gravel.

  Danny wanted to be sick. Beside him, Carrie was grabbing his hand hard and trembling.

  The rich guy pulled out the
plastic sheet the woman had been on in the trunk, spread it out beside her, and then rolled her body onto the plastic like it was so much garbage.

  The dead woman seemed young, with long blonde hair and nice clothes. She might have been pretty because she had a thin body, and she seemed very, very stiff. Nothing about her seemed to bend.

  Danny still couldn’t see the man clearly enough to pick him out of a crowd.

  The man was whistling a little louder, clearly enjoying himself. The whistling sent chills through Danny’s back. He knew they were witnessing pure evil.

  The man pulled the woman and the tarp toward the edge of the bluff over the water. Then, with a strength that surprised Danny, the man picked up the woman and tossed her into the water below.

  The sound of her body splashing in the black lake water carried through the night air like a death knell.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” Danny whispered to Carrie. “If he sees us, he’ll kill us.”

  She nodded, still staring at the man on the edge of the bluff as he took a couple of rocks, wrapped the plastic around them, and then tossed the plastic into the lake as well.

  “Wait,” Carrie whispered. “Let’s try to get the plate number. He hasn’t noticed us so far. Maybe we’re better off letting him leave first.”

  Danny nodded. He agreed with that now that he thought about it. They would not be able to be silent moving through the brush back to their car. They were in their hidden secret place. If they stayed still, the man wouldn’t see them.

  They waited and watched until the man took off his protective clothing, boots and all, wrapped rocks inside of them, and tossed the clothing in the water as well.

  Then, still whistling, he climbed back into his car and shut the door.

  The sound of the high-powered Mercedes engine cut through the night air. He quickly turned the car around in a wide area and went back up the road slowly, without lights or parking lights on.

  It surprised Danny that a modern car could even move without at least some running lights on, but this car was nothing more than dark ghost moving along the narrow gravel road in the faint moonlight.