Ace High

by Dean Wesley Smith

  “Another way underground into the building, huh?”

  Pickett nodded. “Not on the final construction blueprints that Crowly had, so he wouldn’t have known to watch it. Built when construction started in 1961 but then not used when the hotel was opened in 1969.”

  Sarge nodded. “One mystery solved, another one created.”

  “This case seems to do that, doesn’t it?” Pickett said.

  She just hoped that at some point the answers would lead to an end and to who killed Heather Winston.

  At least in one day they had taken an impossible cold case and opened it back up wide. That was at least a start.

  Part III

  Yet Another Surprise

  12

  December 5th, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  * * *

  Sarge had just finished showering and dressing and Pickett had made coffee and given the kittens their morning treats when Robin called.

  Sarge sipped on his coffee as Pickett put the phone on speaker.

  “Morning,” Robin said. “Will’s friends came through and we got a hit on the fake Heather Winston DNA preliminary findings when we ran them through some data bases this morning.”

  Sarge was stunned. He hadn’t given that much hope at all.

  “We found a family match with her mother who was in the local database for a number of theft and assault charges. The fake Heather’s real name is Connie Downs,” Robin said. “She was a classmate of Heather’s in high school. She went missing about the same time as Heather did and there is still a missing person’s case open on her.”

  “How in the world did she pull that off?” Pickett asked.

  “She was the same height, same hair color, same eye color,” Robin said. “And they looked like sisters in their school pictures. Kind of creepy actually.”

  “Family differences?” Sarge asked.

  “Completely different,” Robin said. “Heather was from a stable and fairly happy family. From what we can figure out quickly, Connie came from a poor home and no father, with an abusive alcoholic mother who ended up in jail more often than not.”

  “Connie wasn’t liked at school I’ll bet,” Pickett said.

  “No way of really knowing quickly,” Robin said, “but their yearbook had just Connie’s photo in the student listings while Heather was all over the yearbook with pictures in clubs and other activities.”

  Sarge nodded. An unpopular girl taking the place of a popular one. No wonder the parents were figuring out something was wrong fairly quickly, even with the fake Heather in college.

  “So we got a classic reason why the switch,” Pickett said. “But Connie didn’t do this alone and she didn’t kill the parents alone. So who knew about the tunnel into the hotel? And why do all this for Connie?”

  “I’m betting it wasn’t for Connie,” Sarge said. “She was just a side benefit. I think someone was going after Heather on this all along. Connie ended up just an easy distraction in case everything fell apart.”

  “Got a hunch you are right about that,” Robin said.

  Pickett was also nodding.

  “So the way I look at it, we have a mess,” Sarge said.

  “You think?” Robin asked and they all laughed.

  “We have a woman who has been leading a fake life now for twenty-five years,” Sarge said. “We don’t know who helped her set that up and possibly kill the parents, but we’re all fairly certain she couldn’t have done it alone or even come up with the idea. And we have no idea who knew about that old utility tunnel into the Landmark.”

  “My problem,” Pickett said, “Is why the Landmark in the first place?”

  “Wondering the same thing,” Robin said. “Why not just kill Heather instead of locking her in a room where she might have been discovered. And eventually was.”

  “Told you we have a mess,” Sarge said. “Any ideas on what to even do next. We could expose Connie and pressure her to talk.”

  “We’d need some active detectives involved with that,” Pickett said. “Let’s give us a few more days to dig up more before we go down that road.”

  “I agree,” Pickett said.

  “I do too,” Sarge said. He didn’t want to turn this mess over to the active detectives just yet. They wouldn’t have the time or the energy to push it like they could.

  “So Heather must have had a pretty good enemy or two,” Pickett said. “I think we go that way, see what we can find without spooking the fake Heather any more than me might have already.”

  “Agreed,” Robin said.

  Sarge nodded, but he was still stuck on one aspect that seemed to be making no sense.

  “I’m still thinking the Landmark being shuttered had something pretty major to do with this,” Sarge said. “Any luck on finding reports about things going on in shuttered hotels?”

  “Actually, yes,” Robin said. “Twice over the years raids have been done on shuttered hotels.”

  “Raids?” Pickett asked a half second before Sarge could.

  “Why would anyone raid a shuttered hotel?”

  “High school and college sex parties,” Robin said. “Abandoned and closed-down hotels full of rooms and beds.”

  “Seriously?” Sarge asked. “I’m trying to wrap my mind around there being enough students in the local universities and high schools who would do that sort of thing.”

  “The raids didn’t find local kids,” Robin said. “Or at least not many. Most of the kids arrested for trespassing in those raids were from the LA and central California schools.”

  Sarge just leaned against the kitchen counter, shaking his head. It made such perfect sense now that he thought about it.

  “Free rooms in Las Vegas for the weekend,” Pickett said.

  “How far apart were these raids?” Sarge asked.

  “One in 1993 at a shuttered motel on the old Boulder Highway and another in 2004 in a shuttered Strip hotel,” Robin said.

  “So this is likely still going on,” Pickett said.

  Sarge just nodded. He had no doubt at all.

  13

  December 5th, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  * * *

  Pickett and Sarge and Robin talked for another half hour about where to go next on this case. They settled on trying to figure out why anyone would want to kill Heather.

  Robin said she would dig up some addresses of Heather’s closest friends in that first year of college, before she had her switch to fake Heather, and bring the names to breakfast.

  When Robin mentioned breakfast, Pickett realized just how hungry she was. Normally they just had their coffee and then headed out immediately for the buffet at the Golden Nugget, but this morning they had talked for a while first.

  The kittens were long past their morning laps of the complex and now were all asleep in the sun in the living room. At the moment they were still spread out around the room.

  It took her and Sarge only a minute to get their jackets and get headed for breakfast. The morning air was crisp and again the day was going to be clear and sunny.

  She loved the walk they made every morning. Not only did it feel like quality time with Sarge, but it felt great to just be able to get out and move around.

  “You know,” Sarge said as they got to Fremont Street and turned toward the Nugget, “someone local has to be organizing these sex parties and figuring out how to get into each shuttered hotel. And then spreading the word into California. Seems pretty risky and time-consuming.”

  “That is does,” Picket said.

  “So why do it?”

  “They have to be making money on it in some fashion,” Pickett said. To her that was clear.

  “Filming it all like we found in the tunnels?” Sarge asked.

  “Maybe,” Pickett said.

  She didn’t want to think about what they had found down in the storm tunnels under the city. People coming into town for weddings had been kidnapped and held prisoner and filmed every minute of every d
ay and the films streamed or sold.

  It had been a horrific sex operation. It had taken her months to stop having nightmares about what they found down there.

  But by finding it, they had rescued hundreds of people.

  She glanced over at Sarge as they walked and she could tell he didn’t much like the idea either of this being another sex ring.

  “Doesn’t feel right,” she said. And it didn’t.

  He said nothing.

  They were almost at the door to the Nugget when Sarge said simply, “We need to find one happening now, if they are still going on. We need a list of the shuttered hotels and motels and figure out which ones might be used for these parties. And how often they happened.”

  Pickett nodded, but again that didn’t feel right.

  “And we should be able to find some older people who participated and wouldn’t mind admitting it and telling us about it now.”

  “Why would that help besides maybe find the person behind it all?” Pickett asked.

  “Because if we see the rooms, the setup used now, talk to some who came in for a party, we might be able to figure out why. And what, if anything, they had to do with Heather getting locked in that room.”

  Pickett shook her head. “I’m guessing the why is because high school kids and young college kids would love the excitement of it all. A forbidden sex party, a dangerous sex party, all in Sin City. I might have gone along on one at that age, to be honest.”

  She smiled at his shocked face.

  Then as he held the door open for her, he laughed. “Honestly, I might have as well. Especially if it had been with you.”

  “You silver-tongued devil, you,” she said.

  But she had to admit, as a freshman in college, if college-aged Sarge had invited her to one of these sex parties in an old shuttered hotel, with a chance of getting caught and arrested for trespassing, she would have gone along.

  Just for the thrill of it.

  And the fun of being with Sarge.

  14

  December 5th, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  * * *

  Sarge hadn’t realized just how hungry he had gotten until the wonderful smells of the buffet hit them going up the escalator. Since it was Pickett’s turn to buy, he didn’t even bother to take off his jacket before heading to the buffet to get his omelet started.

  After they all had food, the three of them talked about the chance the parties were still going on and the reasons they had gone on for so long.

  “More than likely just be tradition,” Robin said. “College and high schools have a lot of strange traditions. I could see something like this going on every year from most schools. A secret party whispered about all year. Only the popular kids getting the invite and instructions.”

  Sarge had to agree with that and it made the most sense. But they still needed to find the person feeding all the hotel information to the different schools. And finding safe ways into the shuttered hotels and setting the rules for each hotel. That kind of information had to come from someone local.

  And someone who had access to hotel information in general. That just couldn’t be a large list of people who had been around for twenty-five or more years.

  Robin said she and Will would see if they could figure out who that person might be while Sarge and Pickett interviewed a few of Heather’s old friends from the time before fake Heather.

  The first woman they called to talk with after breakfast was Cinda Blessing. Cinda agreed to talk with them over a break, so they met her outside her accounting office at 10:30 in the morning. The day was growing warm enough that they could sit on the concrete steps of the building facing the traffic.

  Pickett sat beside her while Sarge stood facing them both a few steps down.

  Cinda was a large, round woman who dressed for her size and had an infectious laugh and almost a twinkle in her blue eyes. She clearly enjoyed life. Sarge liked her almost at once.

  Robin had showed them Cinda’s picture from high school. She had been thin and trim back then.

  “Why are you investigating Heather’s week-long disappearance after all these years?” Cinda asked.

  Sarge smiled at her. “Just trying to tie up a few loose ends and after we do we promise to give you the entire story, if you’ll help us now.”

  Cinda smiled back and said, “Sounds like a deal to me.”

  “First off,” Pickett said, “please don’t mention this to Heather if you are still in contact with her.”

  Cinda looked sad and shook her head. “After that week of her being gone, she was never the same. We haven’t spoken in years. But honestly, why don’t you just ask her what happened?”

  “She can’t say what happened,” Pickett said, looking sad.

  Sarge was impressed at how Pickett sold that with the look.

  Cinda nodded and said, “Oh.”

  “So do you know where she disappeared from, exactly?” Sarge asked.

  “No,” Cinda said

  Sarge could tell she was hedging on that answer, so he decided to give her a little help.

  “Was it from one of the sex parties held at the shuttered Landmark?”

  Cinda jerked, then smiled. “Yeah, the last time I saw her before she disappeared was that night in the Landmark. That place was creepy, but I have to tell you, Danny and I had some fun that night. I got pregnant that night with our first kid and Danny and I were married three months later. Our kid could never figure out why, at times, Danny and I would just call him The Tenth Floor and then laugh.”

  Both Sarge and Pickett laughed along with Cinda.

  “The poor darling,” Cinda said, shaking her head, “to this day he still doesn’t know what that is all about.”

  “You know how often those kinds of parties are thrown?” Sarge asked.

  “Only one I ever heard about,” Cinda said. “But being married and pregnant, I doubt I would have heard of others.”

  “Do you know who Heather was with that night?” Pickett asked.

  “Not a clue,” Cinda said. “Some guy she said was from California, a junior, and handsome and she said she would introduce me. But I never ran into her in the hotel and then I got sort of busy, if you catch my drift.”

  Cinda laughed again and Sarge had no choice but to join her laugh it was so infectious.

  15

  December 5th, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  * * *

  Pickett really liked Cinda and was enjoying their talk. Finally, Pickett got around to the main question they had been wondering about.

  “Did Heather have any enemies that you knew about?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Cinda said, laughing. “A bunch.”

  “What did she do to cause that?” Sarge asked while Pickett regrouped from the surprise.

  Cinda looked at both Pickett and Sarge, a serious look on her face. “You really don’t know, do you? I thought that was the real reason you were here.”

  “Not a clue,” Pickett said. “We really are just investigating the disappearance. Trying to figure out why it happened.”

  “Anyone close to Heather knew why it happened,” Cinda said. “She covered too many bets that lost and got in over her head. Way over, more than likely refused to pay off on a couple of bets, made some pretty powerful people around the university real mad.”

  “Covered bets?” Sarge asked.

  Cinda nodded. “I’m convinced she was taking bets like a bookie on some weird shit. Not the normal sports stuff the casinos all cover in their sports books, but mostly celebrity stuff. Who would be divorced, who was sleeping with whom, range of gross on movies on opening weekends, and so on. Amazing what people will bet on when given the chance. Especially in this town.”

  Pickett was shocked. She had never heard of anything like this.

  Cinda went on. “Heather spent a lot of time out and about in the clubs and hotel bars. She also wrote a nasty celebrity gossip column for a small newspaper that was starting to get
major attention.”

  “Column?” Sarge asked.

  Cinda nodded. “Heather dished crap on numbers of bigger name stars that were playing here in the casinos. Her favorite targets though were the lounge bands, the small groups, the lower-level magic and comic acts and the Elvis impersonators. She could be one nasty bitch in print to them. But after she vanished for that week, she stopped doing all that, including writing, and became a nasty bitch in person instead. Her columns kept going for a few months, but then stopped.”

  Pickett tried to wrap her mind around what she had just heard. Sarge was busy taking notes and shaking his head.

  “Let me get this straight,” Pickett said, “the week Heather disappeared, she planned to meet some handsome guy from California and also owed a bunch of people money and had a bunch of celebrities and musicians hating her.”

  “You got it,” Cinda said. “And since you didn’t know any of that, you wouldn’t know that Heather back in those days kept amazingly accurate notes in dark blue journals on everything, including the money and her sources on the gossip. I saw her writing in the damn things all the time. You might ask her what happened to those journals. Last time I saw them they were in her pretend office in a storage unit down off of Sahara.”

  Pickett knew exactly which storage area she was talking about. The place had been there for thirty years and was looking pretty worn these days.

  “So do you know if she wrote those columns under her own name?” Sarge asked.

  Cinda laughed. “Heaven’s no. She wrote all that under the name Darling Black.”

  And that made Pickett glance at Sarge who was just writing that down. Pickett remembered clearly the name Darling Black and how many threats were sent to the small newspaper against her. Pickett and Robin, in their first year as detectives, had been forced to investigate some of those threats. They had gotten nowhere and then Darling Black stopped writing and it all went away.