Elena broke the kiss off as suddenly as she had initiated it, turned and stepped into the condo as she said, "Please make certain the door is locked, I'm going to take a shower," she reached behind her neck and pulled one end of the bow holding her dress. The dress dropped to the floor and she walked away from me totally nude. I did lock the door, but needless to say, I was on the inside when I did.
CHAPTER TWENTY
It was 9:00 p.m. as Tim and PJ pulled into the parking lot at Hollywood PD. Tim parked the car and turned to PJ saying, "I don't know about you partner, but I'm beat."
PJ rubbed the back of her neck, "I am too, but in some ways I'm afraid to go home. I'm afraid as soon as we go home these two guys will strike again."
Tim shook his head, "Don't think so. It's Friday. They've struck three times, a Monday, a Wednesday, and a Thursday. Nothing on the weekend."
PJ shook her head, "Or they could just be working their way through the week, in which case Friday's next."
"Yeah, but they already missed Friday. They strike in the early morning hours. That part of Friday has already passed."
PJ chuckled, "You know, we even sound tired. This conversation doesn't make much sense."
Tim said, "I'm not so certain. I think weekdays are a pattern and I think there are good reasons."
PJ straightened in her seat, "Really, what are you thinking?"
"There are a number of moving parts in each of these heists. They have to steal two vehicles. They have to case and follow a business owner to a bank where they can strike. They have to drop the stolen vehicles and get away somehow. Lots of moving parts. There are a lot more people out on the streets on a weekend than during the week. To say nothing of the fact that police presence is much heavier on the weekend. No, I think they're hitting during the week by design."
PJ rubbed her neck again, "Okay, that makes sense, but businesses bank a lot more money on the weekend than during the week. At least the type of businesses they're targeting. What's to say they won't migrate to weekends?"
"That's true, the take would be bigger on the weekend, but it's no good to pull a big heist if you get busted. Better little heists and get away. I don't think they're targeting a particular type of business. I think they're just choosing to work in the early morning hours. No one notices their car stolen at three in the morning. No witnesses to the actual heist at three in the morning. Just the victims, and they don't see much. It just turns out that the bars and liquor stores are the only businesses who bank during those hours."
PJ nodded, "Okay, suppose I buy your weekday only theory. That cuts it from a potential seven days to five. That's not much help. How else can we narrow the pattern?"
"Geographically."
"We've looked, there is no geographic pattern. The three locations are scattered all across the city," responded PJ.
Now Tim rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm not talking about location, I'm talking about topography. There's something that makes these locations similar. We just need to figure out what it is, so we can extrapolate to identify other locations that fit the pattern. Once we do that, we can attempt to be there when our boys arrive."
PJ sighed, "It better be something unique, or it won't narrow the number of potential targets much. You have any idea how many banks there are in this city?"
Tim nodded, "I agree, and it may not be a single factor, but a combination of several. I just believe that these are specific targets, not random."
"There are two ways to look at that approach though. It could be the banks, or it could be the victims. Maybe the victims have something in common other than the fact that they're in businesses that bank in the wee hours of the morning. Maybe the perps identify the victims and then follow them to the banks," added PJ.
Tim nodded again, "How about this approach? Tomorrow morning after the status meeting, you and I'll revisit all of the scenes with an eye toward identifying commonalities. If nothing jumps out at us, we'll visit the businesses and see if we can identify anything similar about the businesses, or the victims."
PJ added, "At the status meeting, let's ask Beans to look at the locations through the computer. You know, satellite views from the map applications. That kind of stuff. He can compare them side by side. Something might jump out at him that we wouldn't identify on the street."
Tim added, "We'll have him do a workup on the three victims and their businesses as well, maybe that could show a link. Probably a stretch, but we don't want to leave any stone unturned. My instincts just tell me that these are not random events. We just need to find the link."
"We don't have anything else to go on. Your instincts are better than nothing."
Tim chuckled and then said, "On that note of high praise, I'm going home and get some sleep."
PJ picked up her notebook from the dashboard and stepped out of the car saying, "See you in the morning, Partner."
PJ's drive home was not alone, the dark specter rode with her. She tried to push him out of the car with the recognition of Tim being a damn good cop. How could a guy be such a dedicated investigator and yet be dirty? The specter scoffed at her and told her she was just being naive. She found herself sitting at a red light yelling at the specter and banging her hand on the steering wheel. The driver of the vehicle stopped next to her looked at her as if she was crazy and made a previously unplanned right turn on the red. She thought about calling Jack to see if he had talked to Jeff Spencer yet, but decided that would signal an urgency she wasn't ready to admit. It was bad enough that she had involved Jack at all, the last thing she needed to do was alert him to the fact that the whole mess was driving her batty.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
PJ was the last to enter the conference room Saturday morning. Tim looked up from the notes he was reading and said, "Hate to mention it Partner, but you don't look like you got much sleep."
PJ snapped back, "I only look half as bad as I feel, but thanks for noticing."
Tim turned to the detectives around the table, "On that happy note, let's get started. We'll go around the table and each of you can update us on what you've accomplished."
Detective Kahn muttered, "You're presupposing we've accomplished anything."
Tim ignored the comment and turned to Detective Moore, "What have you got Moore?"
It took more than an hour to get around the entire table, but that was more the result of the ribbing that followed each detective's report of their fruitless actions. The only potential lead was a call that had been received from a detective in Jacksonville. He'd left a message that he'd seen the request sent to detectives statewide seeking information on similar cases and that he recalled some cases mirroring those in Hollywood occurring in the Jacksonville area a year ago. Dick Kahn had attempted to contact him, but the Jacksonville detective had been in court all afternoon Friday. Kahn said he'd left his cell phone number and asked the detective to call him as soon as he could, but he hadn't heard back yet.
Tim reviewed pending and new assignments with everyone and was just about to end the meeting when Beans came hurrying through the door. He looked even more disheveled than usual. He stammered an apology for oversleeping and took the only open seat at the table. It took a couple of minutes for the jabs at Beans to die out and the room to come back to some semblance of order. When he finally got the floor again Tim said, "I'm glad you made it Beans, PJ and I have a theory we would like for you to pursue, but it would be good to get everyone's input."
Beans was cleaning his glasses and blinking rapidly when one of the younger detectives set a cup of coffee in front of him saying, "End of the pot Beans, so it's pretty strong, but you look like you need it." That brought another round of one-liners, but a scowl from Tim prevented round two.
Tim explained the theory about a pattern of either the bank locations, or the victims targeted. Several of those around the table chimed in that they thought the theory could have potential. Dick Kahn added, "Or, we're all just willing to grasp anything that comes along becau
se we don't have anything else." Then he added, "Though, when I talk to Jacksonville, if the cases sound similar, I'll be sure to ask if they've identified any pattern to theirs."
Beans seemed invigorated by the assignment of something to focus his analytical mind on. He asked several questions and scribbled notes furiously on his dog-eared notepad. The discussion the last few minutes of the meeting injected more energy into the room than the entirety of the previous hour.
As the last of the detectives filed out of the room, Tim turned to PJ and asked, "You okay? You didn't say ten words this morning."
PJ sucked in a deep breath, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just not sleeping well, that's all."
Tim noticed she didn't look him in the eye when she answered. Not the first time he'd noticed that lately. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something different about their relationship the past few weeks. Not a sudden change, but rather something that seemed to be creeping in between them. He told himself that once they took these two predators off the streets, he'd sit down with PJ and find out what was going on. The middle of a case like this was not the time to open personal issues between partners. Tim replied offhandedly, "Trouble sleeping, that's why God created alcohol." He picked up his notebook and said, "Let's hit the streets. Take another look at the three scenes and see if we can come up with any similarities."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
It was after 11:00 a.m. as I drove from Elena's condo toward Escapade to meet Jeff Spencer. Often, when making the drive back after staying the night with someone I would find myself deflecting pangs of guilt. This morning I realized that I felt absolutely no pangs of guilt. What had transpired between Elena and I was incredible sex between two consenting adults who were exploring a relationship, both having their eyes open. For the first time since Katherine, I was in a relationship I was not feeling guilty about. I had even felt guilty about the time Sissy and I played house, because it had been born of the stress of the time we were hiding from the guy who killed Allison, and I knew in my heart that it would never be long term. No, the situation with Elena is different. It's normal, or as normal as adult relationships ever are. Well, that's if you don't consider who her father is.
Although it was only noon on a Saturday, the traffic volume around Escapade was already building from medium to heavy. This place is a virtual gold mine. I found a parking spot in the ramp adjacent to the Pinnacle Hotel and Casino and entered through the elevated walkway. As I rode the escalator down to the casino floor, I couldn't help but marvel again at the number of people pursuing a passionate dedication to losing their money. Nearly every slot machine was occupied as well as the majority of the seats at the various card and dice tables. It says something about human nature that in the face of overwhelming odds people will still fight to put their money at risk.
I wandered across the casino floor and found the security podium I'd contacted yesterday. I told the young female officer at the podium who I was and that I had an appointment with Jeff Spencer. She said she didn't think he would be in this early on a Saturday, but she'd check. She spoke into her headset and immediately began nodding her head in agreement with whatever she was being told back through the headset. She pushed another button on the communications console and called an officer to report to the podium. A few minutes later, I was following the officer through the maze that comprises the back of the house. Brightly lit corridors running various directions feeding a steady flow of costumed cocktail waitresses, blackjack dealers, restaurant waitresses and waiters, security officers, white clad cooks, and everyone else who makes the place run for the hordes of people losing their money out front. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry and they all knew where they were going. Everyone, that is, except me. Nearly jogging to keep up with the officer escorting me, I was totally lost after the second turn. Suddenly, we stopped in front of a door marked Security. The officer pushed a doorbell, looked up to face the camera above us, and a loud buzzing sound signified the lock disengaging. The officer led me through an unoccupied office foyer area and into yet another corridor. Finally, we came to a stop in front of the open door marked Director of Security. Jeff Spencer rose from behind the executive-sized desk and strode toward the door saying, "Thanks Andy. Good to see you again Jack."
The security officer disappeared as I entered the office. Spencer reached behind me and closed the door while gesturing toward the small round conference table in the corner of the office, "Let's sit here Jack. Would you like coffee, or something else? I can have something sent in."
"No thanks Jeff. I've probably had all of the coffee I need this morning."
We sat down and Spencer pointed to a stack of several file folders sitting on the table, "I pulled all of my files on the incident. We can go through all of it and see if you find anything I haven't."
I was surprised at the volume of information assembled. I asked, "You put all of this together at the time of the incident?"
Spencer nodded, "Absolutely. You obviously were . . . are concerned about the attack on Sissy because she's your friend. What you need to know is that I was very concerned about the attack because we had utilized the same protocol that we utilize every time we conceal the presence of a VIP here. And you need to know that it's very common for us to have persons staying here who don't want the outside world to know of their location here at the time, or anytime in the future. Security and discretion go hand and hand. That's why I investigated this incident so thoroughly. If I had a problem here, I needed to know."
I looked Spencer directly in the eyes, "And you didn't find any internal leaks?"
Without a flinch, "I did not." He paused and then pulling the top file from the stack said, "Let me walk you through the chronology of the entire incident, starting with the phone call I received from Detective Johnson asking for our assistance in hiding Sissy."
Spencer had prepared a very thorough chronology of events with a precise timeline. He had included two additional columns of information flowing along the timeline. These columns indicated who knew of Sissy's true identity and who knew of her precise location. The only people who ever knew of Sissy's true identity were Spencer himself and his administrative assistant Kat. Her room location was known by those in the monitor room who monitor the security cameras, but they didn't know her identity. They were only told she was a VIP to be given enhanced security monitoring. Spencer explained that this type of activity is almost a daily occurrence. I asked, "So the guys in the monitor room don't know who they're protecting?"
Spencer nodded, "That's right. Our protocol assigns an alias to everyone we afford this service to. I always know who's coming. Kat usually knows because, just as in this case, she makes the arrangements. We use a random name generator to assign an alias and that's what she uses when she secures the accommodations and makes any additional arrangements. No one else on the property knows the true identity." He hesitated and then continued, "Of course, the people working here don't live under a rock, so many celebrities are recognized when they arrive. It's hard to conceal someone who makes their living in the public eye, entertainers, politicians, high profile business leaders, people like that, but we make every effort."
I said, "There is certainly no reason to think anyone would recognize Sissy."
Spencer replied, "I cannot believe that anyone would have known who she was. With her looks, the officers in the monitor room or those on the floor probably thought she was some type of entertainer, an actress or singer, something along those lines."
After listening to Spencer explain the protocol employed, and looking at his timeline, I couldn't help but agree. It doesn't seem possible that the leak came from inside Pinnacle. We were both silent for a minute, lost in our own thoughts. Finally, pointing to the remaining stack of files I asked, "What is all of this?"
Spencer's eyes narrowed as he replied, "Those represent our investigation into the actual incident. Our tracking of the guy who attacked Sissy while he was on the property."
Now I w
as really impressed. Obviously, Spencer had taken the situation very seriously. It was evident from the edge in his voice months later that he still took the attack as a personal affront to his security. I can't imagine his ire at the time. My mission was to determine who had leaked Sissy's location, not identify her attacker, but I knew I should show interest in the investigation Spencer had conducted. The identity of her attacker was a moot point because Justin had disposed of him, but of course I couldn't share that little tidbit with anyone. It would seem odd if I wasn't interested in pursuing the attacker, so I asked, "Can I take a look at what you found?"
"Certainly, I wouldn't have dug it out of the files if I didn't intend to show it to you." Opening the first file folder he continued, "We took the video we got of him outside of Sissy's room and plugged it into our facial recognition software. We started running video comparisons working outward from her room looking for matches."
I interrupted, "You have facial recognition software in your video system?"
Spencer replied, "Facial recognition is an application that we can run any of our video feeds, or video recordings through." The inquisitive expression on my face seemed to prompt him to continue, "Gaming is a high stakes business. With high stakes comes individuals bent on manipulating things to their advantage."
I asked, "You mean cheating?"
"That's exactly what I mean. Cheats not only cheat the house, they also cheat other players. To maintain a reputation as a fair environment for all players, we employ an entire array of tools. Our facial recognition program is utilized to identify known cheats and persons barred from the casino. It's usually only employed in the high stakes rooms."
Quick Be Jack: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 3) Page 7
