Sacrifice

by Michael Arches

  Chapter 13

  The Basalt library wouldn’t open until noon on Sunday, but after I said goodbye to Grace, I went online with the computer in my SUV to find the name of the head librarian. Called her home and reached her. I could hear a couple of kids squabbling in the background, so I got right to the point. Described Sandra and told the librarian I was checking on her well-being.

  “As far as I know, she’s fine. Got a job at an insurance agent’s office in Glenwood a couple of months ago. It pays much better. Who could blame her?”

  “When did you last see or hear from her?”

  “It’s been a few weeks. Ran into her at Walmart. Said she liked the new job, but I’d been a better boss.”

  That was a relief, but I still got the name of the insurance agent. It paid to be thorough. After hanging up, I called him.

  He wasn’t as cooperative. Claimed to be playing tennis.

  “Murder investigation trumps tennis every time. I’m checking up on Sandra Pollock.”

  He groaned. “Might have to let her go. Bad work ethic. Went out for lunch on Friday with a friend and didn’t come back. Texted me saying she was throwing up, had the flu. I think she just wanted to start the weekend early.”

  She was probably fine, but anyone could’ve texted that excuse using her phone. Linda found me her phone number and the name of her apartment building in Glenwood.

  I called Manny. “Running down potential witnesses who might know Viceroy’s friends. Is there any chance you could do a welfare check for me?”

  “Probably. Who are we talking about?”

  “Sandra Pollock. She’s in the Chatham Arms complex.”

  He sighed. “Shit! We may have a problem. Her mother called a little while ago. The kid was supposed to have breakfast with her. Didn’t show and isn’t answering her phone. I already have somebody on the way to her apartment. Would’ve held the mom off for twenty-four hours except we keep losing young women.”

  “Damn! Let me know as soon as you hear. Meanwhile, I’m checking out a couple of other folks connected to Viceroy.”

  “Right,” he said. “Keep me up to date, too.”

  -o-o-o-

  On my way back to Aspen, I stopped by the grocery store. Although I didn’t have a photograph of the baldheaded guy with tattooed horns, if someone had seen him, I doubted they’d forget. Unless he was wearing a hat.

  Got lucky with the third checker. “Sure,” the gawky twenty-something guy said. “Usually wears a baseball cap, but once he took it off to scratch his head. Freaky. Almost called the cops on him, but we get lots of weirdos in here. Hinckley is his last name. The first is on the tip of my tongue.”

  The last name was a huge plus, and I asked for more. “Any chance you know where he lives or works?”

  The cashier shook his head.

  “Did he have a discount card?”

  “Oh, sure does. Actually, he doesn’t carry the card. Types his phone number on our keypad. We should have his full name in the system.”

  He used his index finger to type on the screen for a minute.

  “Yep, we got him. Darrell Hinckley.” He rattled off the guy’s phone number and address. “What’s he done?”

  “Nothing, as far as I know. Just want to talk to him. But if you see him, let us know as soon as you can.”

  Hinckley actually lived in Glenwood. Which meant he probably worked somewhere around Snowmass Village instead of living here. I called Manny with the news and agreed to meet him at a gas station a block from Hinckley’s condo.

  While on the way, I updated Skip, who was back in the office. Things were finally warming up.

  -o-o-o-

  I was driving toward Glenwood Springs when my phone rang. Linda said, “There are a half-dozen regular callers to the phone you collected from Viceroy. Unfortunately, they’re all using no-contract phones, too. We can tell from cell tower data that all the phones stay in this area, but we can’t pinpoint them.”

  “Seven people who stay in touch constantly? Is that how big the satanic cell is?”

  “Could be,” she said. “The fact that they’re all using burn phones tells me they’re up to no good.”

  Had to agree. “Any ideas on how to find these people?”

  “Not off the top of my head.”

  “If we can find one alive,” I said, “he or she can lead us to the others. Tell Skip to interview the bus driver as soon as possible. Manny and I’ll try to do the same with Hinckley.”

  When I met the Glenwood police chief at the gas station, the first words out of his mouth were, “Sandra Pollock is missing. Her car’s still in the parking lot at her job, and she didn’t answer the door at her apartment. The manager let my guy in. No sign of the woman. Her goldfish are all dead. She hasn’t used her key card for entry into the apartment complex since Thursday night.”

  I told him about the trouble we were having locating Viceroy’s pals, then said, “I’d like to talk to Sandra’s mom. And maybe you have someone who can check Sandra’s phone for recent calls. Her boss said she went out to lunch on Friday with some friend. It could’ve been Viceroy or one of his buddies.”

  “Good plan.”

  “With regard to Hinckley, we should force him to carry all the weight for the two murders of the women unless he can finger the others.”

  The old cop nodded. “Let’s get the bastard before he hurts somebody else.”

  He ran a DMV report on our suspect. Hinckley drove a late-model Hummer, obviously not worried about staying inconspicuous.

  I headed for the house where Sandra’s mom lived on the outskirts of Basalt.

  -o-o-o-

  While I drove, I called Willow, who was still at my office. “Have you made any progress cracking the security on the encrypted messages?”

  My girlfriend’s voice was dull and quiet. Not her normal cheerful, bouncy self. “I finally hacked into the app, so I can see every message he’s received or sent. Problem is, they all use forum handles instead of names.”

  Not ideal, but hopefully not fatal. “Can you read their messages?”

  “Yes, and two things made the biggest impression. First, during their sacrifice ceremony, they cut their victim’s heart out and drink her blood. These people are definitely evil.”

  “No shit. What else?”

  “One of them, who calls himself Dark666, claims that the Hotel Albergo Verona is looking for a new manager for its premier restaurant. He knew because he just fired the old one.”

  “Thank God,” I said. “For once, a gold-plated clue. Can’t be too many people who have the authority to fire the manager of Venetian Dreams. Oh, damn.”

  “You don’t sound happy, Hank,” she said. “I thought you’d be thrilled.”

  “I am, except for one teensy, weensy problem. You know how I told you about Hal Salieri getting pissed off at our investigation? Well, his family owns Hotel Albergo Verona. The senior manager with the power to fire their best restaurant’s manager is probably one of his closest kin. I’ll talk to Randy. He’ll know.”

  She gave me a mirthless laugh. “One of these days, he’s going to get fed up with the headaches you cause him.”

  “Isn’t that the truth? Then I’ll have to run the goddamned office myself. Jesus, how I hate staff squabbles and paperwork.”

  -o-o-o-

  I made it to Phyllis Pollock’s house but parked at a convenience store nearby to make a call. Had to give Randy the bad news.

  His secretary told me that the men’s room at the office had flooded, and he was trying to find a plumber willing to come on short notice. When troubles came, they seemed to hit us from all sides. I asked her to interrupt him.

  A couple minutes later, he picked up. “You hear about the bathroom?”

  I steeled myself before making things much worse. “Yeah, I’m sorry you have to deal with that. And I’m even sorrier to tell you what I just found out.”

  I stopped to give
him a chance to realize that no matter how bad things were, they could always get worse.

  After a long pause, he asked, “Shit. What now?”

  “Willow managed to hack into Viceroy’s encrypted app. We seem to have seven devil worshipers in the area, including one yahoo who claims to have just fired the manager at Venetian Dreams. You ever eat there?”

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I had dinner there a couple months ago, a fundraiser hosted by Hal. Are you saying he’s a goddamned satanic killer?”

  “No,” I said, “as much as I despise the guy, he was genuinely upset about the sawed-up body. But it’s looking like somebody close to him is involved, namely the person who oversees the manager of that restaurant.”

  I really did want to hang onto Randy, but he had to be near the end of his rope. He’d taken the disappointment of losing the election very well. Better than I would’ve. Even so, human beings could only take so much bullshit before saying enough. “Listen, Randy, I’m really sorry about the turn this case is taking.”

  “Is it so terrible,” he asked, “that I just want to hang on to the only job I’ve got? The only job I know how to do? Hal’s going to crucify our office if we bring down his younger brother, Leo.”

  “Don’t doubt for a minute that Hal will try to protect his own. But the public isn’t going to be happy to hear how he tried to talk us out of investigating this case. That may be the only thing that saves us. Hal holds a grudge like nobody I’ve ever seen, but we’ve got him by the short hairs.”

  “He’ll deny he said anything like that,” Randy said.

  “His big mistake was throwing his weight around. Now we have leverage.”

  Randy groaned. “You’re right. I’m becoming just as sick and twisted as you.”

  I stifled a laugh. There was nothing funny about this horrible situation. “What do you know about his family’s connections to the hotel?”

  He let out a sigh. “A dozen of them work there at Albergo Verona in one job or another. The old man died six years ago, so the CEO of the family’s company is now Maria, Hal’s mom. At least that’s what the paperwork says. I think Hal’s the real power behind the throne. He has two sisters and the brother. One sister handles the books, and the other is Director of Conventions and Catering. Leo is the Director of Hospitality and oversees all their bars and restaurants. The black sheep in the family.”

  I’d heard Leo had made a name for himself in the Army but didn’t know the details. “Was he a war hero?”

  “You betcha. Had a brilliant career in the Rangers, until he got caught screwing some general’s wife. Since then, Leo’s been to rehab several times. Got divorced, and his wife has a restraining order against him. He’s a mess but a charmer.”

  I’d heard enough. “You’re not the only one with a shitty job at the moment. I’ve got to talk to the mom of the woman who might be our latest victim. How do you want to handle the Salieri family?”

  “Public service sucks at times. On the quiet, I’ll run a background check on Leo and figure out where he is.”

  “Sounds good. Pick him up as soon as you can. Hopefully, the woman they almost certainly grabbed a couple of days ago is still alive. The winter solstice is tomorrow. That’s supposed to be a favorite day for making sacrifices. We’ll have to move soon to have any chance of saving her.”

  -o-o-o-

  It was midafternoon, and I still hadn’t eaten lunch. My stomach churned, but I thought that was more likely due to my next task, not hunger.

  Phyllis Pollock lived in a subdivision thrown up about twenty years ago. Houses twenty feet apart from each other. Nothing fancy, but her home looked well-maintained. The walls were freshly painted a light yellow, and the trim was glossy white. A couple inches of snow covered the lawn and foundation shrubs. The walkways had all been shoveled.

  A middle-aged woman answered the doorbell, had to be Phyllis. Her cheeks were stained with tears, and her voice faltered as she invited me in.

  When I introduced myself, she nodded. “I know you from the news,” she said. “You think Sandy is caught up in that terrible case with Donald Viceroy, don’t you?”

  “It’s possible. Whatever happened, Chief Martinez and I are working together to find your daughter. You can help.”

  “You think she’s alive?” Her face was gaunt.

  I didn’t want to raise her hopes but didn’t want to destroy them either. “We simply don’t know. Our assumption is she can be saved. We’re doing everything possible.”

  Phyllis motioned for me to have a seat on the sofa in the living room. The house smelled like the same lemon cleaner my mom used to use.

  “Tell me about Sandy’s relationship with Viceroy.”

  She started to speak a couple of times but caught herself. Finally, she said, “I remember now. He shot you, wounded you. Why aren’t you in the hospital?”

  I choked up at her concern for me when she had so many troubles of her own. Then I patted my right side. “Thanks for your worry. I’m fine. Was wearing a bulletproof vest. He got the worst of that gunfight. Tell me what you can about their relationship. It may help us to find her.”

  Phyllis nodded. “Sandy has always had difficulty with relationships. She only went out with Viceroy for a few months before she realized I was right about him. Something scared her, but she wouldn’t tell me what. We’re very close, and I was upset that she wouldn’t confide in me. I knew they were sleeping together before marriage and disapproved. That’s how I ended up as a single parent.”

  “Is she religious? Did she talk about his faith?”

  “We’re Catholic, but she stopped going to mass a few years ago. Claimed the church was five hundred years out of date. According to her, he didn’t go to church. My main thing was, he was ten years older. If a man hasn’t married by then, he isn’t gonna. And he owned a bar. I snuck by there one time to check. Totally fake old-time saloon.”

  “Did Sandy talk about their mutual friends?”

  Phyllis shook her head. “Another bad sign. You can tell a lot about a person by the company they keep.”

  No shit. I thought of the baldheaded guy with the horn tattoos. “Did your daughter talk about places she and Viceroy might have gone together, particularly with a group of others?”

  “He was very well-off financially. One of the few points in his favor.” She wiped her face with her hands. “He took her to Chicago for some event. She wouldn’t tell me what. Right before they broke up. I think something on that trip set her off.”

  Wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but the key seemed to be what’d happened here, not in Chicago. “How about activities with people in this area? Did you hear anything specific about things Viceroy and Sandy did with others?”

  She blew out a long, slow breath. “They ran with a rich crowd. He took her to fancy places, like an Italian hotel in Snowmass Village. She claimed Viceroy knew the manager and got them a deal.”

  “You mean the Hotel Albergo Verona?”

  “Never heard the name.”

  “No problem. You’re on the right track. Can you remember anything else like that? Group activities in this general area?”

  She rubbed her temples with her index fingers. “Somebody owned a ranch south of Aspen. Built a fancy house for himself and a big barn for horses. It’d once been a silver mine. Most of the trees on the property had been cut down so, great views.”

  “Really? That’s interesting.” Unfortunately, Phyllis had described dozens of properties south of Aspen. With a few exceptions, all the land south of Aspen was national forest. The only way to buy land there was to purchase an old mining claim, like I had. Phyllis’s description could have applied to me, except for the fancy house and barn. But a secluded ranch would be a perfect place to hide a kidnapped woman. “Exactly what I’m wondering about. Tell me more.”

  Phyllis lifted her hands, palms up. “Sandy wasn’t specific. A couple of parties. Sex and loud music. Big hot tub and lots of ma
rgaritas.”

  Phyllis and I talked for another fifteen minutes, but nothing helpful. And the more we discussed her daughter, the more upset the mom became.

  Finally, she said, “Oh, one more complication. Sandy is diabetic. She uses an insulin pump, and it will hold enough medicine for several days. I’m pretty sure she refilled her pump Friday morning. That means it will probably give out sometime tomorrow.”

  As she dissolved into tears, I stood and hugged her. Thanked her for her time and promised to stay in touch. I didn’t tell her that insulin was the least of Sandy’s problems. It wouldn’t do her much good without a heart.

  Chapter 14

  For lunch, I cruised through the drive-through at a burger joint before heading back to Aspen. I checked in with the others. Sandy remained missing. So was Leo, Hinckley, and the bus driver with a big chest. Her name was Heather Landau. We were striking out in every direction.

  As I drove, I realized that even if we couldn’t speak to witnesses or suspects, we could learn quite a bit about them. Skip and Linda worked the databases available to law enforcement. I drove by Snowmass Village again and showed Grace pictures of the people we thought she’d described. She recognized Sandy, Hinckley, and Landau.

  We’d identified four members of the satanic cult so far, but we knew there were others. How to find them? That question kept nagging at me.

  I didn’t get to the office until six-thirty. Randy, Linda, Skip, and I met in our larger conference room. Willow had headed home to feed her critters.

  To make sure everybody knew everything, we went around the room and summarized our latest news.

  Then, Randy said, “On the sly, I’ve talked to several friends who know the Salieri family well. Swore them to total secrecy. We’ll see if that holds up. Nothing I say here can leave this room, understood?”

  We all nodded.

  “Everyone agrees that Maria, the matriarch, qualifies for sainthood,” Randy said. “Goes to mass at least once a week without fail. Both of her daughters also have strong reputations for being honest and moral. The next generation is a mixed bag, as kids tend to be, but none of them has much power yet at the hotel.”