Ace High

by Dean Wesley Smith

  “Hold on,” Robin said to someone on the phone.

  “Possible to run all those dates and locations and see which major casinos were close to them?”

  Robin nodded and then said into the phone, “Thanks, call me at once when you have something.”

  Then she clicked off her phone and turned to Sarge and Pickett. “Already did that. I noticed earlier that the locations were all close to the various Hughes Casinos, including the Landmark when it was still in operation.”

  “Oh, no,” Pickett said, sitting back.

  Sarge knew exactly what she was thinking. For the longest time it was rumored that Hughes skimmed vast sums of money from his casinos and took it with him when he left Las Vegas. It had only been rumors and some people thought that Hughes had nothing to do with it if it had happened. But it was one of those rumors that never seemed to die.

  And Hughes left and started selling off his casino properties right about the time all this was happening.

  “We might as well be chasing Bigfoot,” Pickett said.

  Sarge laughed. “We’d have better luck with Bigfoot.”

  “So you thinking this might have been a skim of a skim?” Robin asked Pickett.

  “Only way money wouldn’t be missed or traced back then,” Pickett said, nodding.

  Sarge agreed. By the Hughes era, the mob had been mostly chased out of town and the vast skim of money the mob had sent east was staying in town, for the most part, as large corporations started to move in and buy and build casinos. But those skim operations could have still been working easily for a few years, especially from the Hughes properties.

  “The date that Heather shut down,” Sarge said, sitting forward. “Does that correspond at all with any major casino sting operation?”

  Robin grabbed her phone again.

  “That would explain why she left money in the vault and rigged everything to blow,” Pickett said, nodding. “If the entire operation was getting shut down, if they traced it to the storage unit, they needed to find money and everything destroyed.”

  Sarge knew that Pickett was right. Finally an explanation for that setup in the storage unit.

  “Articles headed to your phones,” Robin said and hung up her phone.

  Sarge got the article a moment later and started reading at the same time Pickett and Robin did. A huge sting operation had been started in the summer of 1990 because of an informant, but the raid didn’t happen until December, at the exact same time as Heather shut down.

  And two days before the last Darling Black column was published.

  But it was the next to the last line of a third article that mentioned that the case had been delayed when the informant vanished suddenly in August.

  He read that line aloud.

  Robin and Pickett both nodded.

  “Looks like we have found who was in that room,” Sarge said.

  At that moment Sarge’s phone clicked.

  Sarge put the phone to his ear.

  “We’re here and it looks like the cabin is occupied,” Mike said. “Cavanaugh has the warrant and we’re going in.”

  “Good luck,” Sarge said and hung up.

  “Mike?” Pickett asked.

  Sarge nodded. “They are going in.”

  39

  December 14th, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  * * *

  Pickett forced herself to go back to the buffet to get all three of them a helping of bread pudding. She was so nervous, she wasn’t hungry, but Robin was on the phone with Will and his people and Sarge was on the phone with Andor at the police headquarters, trying to have someone dig into the file and pull out the informant’s name who vanished.

  So bread pudding seemed to be a task she could handle for them at the moment.

  She was convinced they had figured out the entire scheme.

  It was logical that Bob Steven would try to defend their names and the money they had gotten. So more than likely he had hired the sniper who killed Cinda at the storage unit.

  And since he died in the battle in Melita’s basement, he was clearly in charge there.

  So now, to really finish this off, they needed to capture Heather alive. Pickett was pretty convinced that wasn’t going to happen. But Mike and his men, with the detectives were sure going to try to make it happen.

  And if they did get Heather alive, this could finally be done.

  Pickett carefully fixed up three dishes of bread pudding, putting just the right amount of rum sauce over each one, then carried them back to the table.

  She wasn’t sure she could eat any of hers, but waiting was easier with a fork in her hand.

  Sarge smiled and thanked her. “Andor is digging. Said it shouldn’t take too long.”

  At that moment Robin hung up. “Three of the major players in the scam of the Hughes properties died in the raid. Two unnamed others considered major players were never found and the money was never found.”

  Pickett nodded and started into her bread pudding, letting the sweet and familiar taste calm her some.

  Both Sarge and Robin did the same.

  “Anyone have any idea how much was skimmed?” Sarge asked between bites.

  Robin shook her head. “Guesses run from three hundred million into the billions, but all that is Bigfoot country. No one really knows for sure. All anyone knows is that a skim operation was taking place and they shut it down.”

  Pickett laughed. “Heather’s storage unit sure confirms a lot about the fact that the skim happened.”

  “It does at that,” Robin said.

  At that moment Sarge’s phone rang. He glanced at it and nodded, then clicked it on and said, “Hi, Mike.”

  Pickett and Robin watched as Sarge nodded, then said, “Great news. Keep her protected.”

  Sarge hung up. “They captured Heather alive.”

  Pickett said, “Yes!”

  “Fantastic!” Robin said, laughing.

  “If they can get her back here and under protective custody,” Sarge said, “we might just get a few more answers on this.”

  Pickett frowned at Sarge. “You still think there are more people than Bob Steven and his men trying to shut this down?”

  “I do,” Sarge said, nodding. “With billions on the line and reputations to protect, if any of the major players are still alive, they are going to make sure Heather never says a word.”

  Pickett pushed her unfinished bread pudding away.

  What next? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, actually.

  40

  December 19th, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  * * *

  Sarge was stunned when he heard that Heather lasted exactly four days in custody.

  She was being transferred for a court hearing with six cops around her and in full body armor when a sniper put a bullet through her head.

  No sign of the sniper was found, so a totally professional hit. Someone had been worried about being brought out into the open after all the years and didn’t want that to happen.

  That would have been the end to that if not for the fact that Heather had been giving extensive testimony, on advice of her lawyer, in hopes of getting witness protection.

  All carefully recorded. But sadly, from what Cavanaugh told them a few days later, she didn’t know names.

  She didn’t know about the girl being killed in the Landmark, and she had no idea what had happened to the girl who wrote the Darling Black columns for her until she surfaced.

  What he and Pickett and Robin had worked had been the system Heather used. She explained it all in detail.

  Cavanaugh did learn that her fake brother and future husband, Bob Steven, had known about the scam from the summer and had been so worried about her that he had helped her fake her own disappearance and put in the fake Heather in her place.

  Their kids knew nothing about anything. The newspapers and the police made that clear almost from moment one.

  The original parents had been fake, j
ust cover for them. Heather and Bob Steven were paying them. The two had actually died, for real, in the auto accident by Big Bear.

  After Heather was killed, Mike and Sarge figured that Sarge and Pickett and Robin were clear. The case was over as far as they were concerned. Sarge ended up paying Mike far less than what Sarge thought it was worth, but Mike would have none of taking more money.

  “Those are my rates,” Mike had said. “Trust me, you didn’t get a deal.”

  So now, just six days before Christmas, Sarge and Pickett were headed toward breakfast actually talking about what they were going to do for the holiday.

  Details such as where to put up a tree, that sort of thing. And if they wanted to do a Christmas Day party or not.

  Sarge did, Pickett wasn’t so sure yet.

  They had just reached the main door to the Golden Nugget on Fremont street when Sarge’s phone rang.

  It was Andor.

  “Finally dug out the informant’s real name and description,” Andor said. “I sent it to Robin and she should have it for you when you get to breakfast. Her name was Dawn Gilbert. Twenty-five, unmarried, worked in the cage at one of the Hughes properties.”

  “Thanks,” Sarge said. “Anything we should know?”

  “Parents still alive,” Andor said. “They never knew what happened to their daughter. You going to want to tell them? They live here.”

  “Yes,” Sarge said. “We’ll do it.”

  “Thought you would,” Andor said. “Great job. See you at the game after Christmas.”

  With that Sarge put the phone back in his pocket and on the escalator up to the buffet he told Pickett what Andor had said.

  Pickett just sighed. “Finally they will get closure.”

  Sarge could only nod to that. Too bad they would never know who locked her in that room.

  Or would they?

  He quickly dialed Andor back and asked him for the testimony about Dawn’s case and her friends and who she had implicated.

  Then, after they all got settled and they had all looked over Dawn’s information and when exactly she vanished, Sarge said simply, “Let’s delay telling her parents for a day to find her killer.”

  “And how would we do that?” Pickett asked.

  “We cross-reference,” Sarge said. “Andor is sending her testimony and we figure out which person on there knew about the old tunnel at the Landmark. And who had the most to lose. And who was closest to her who might be able to lure her there.”

  41

  December 19th, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  * * *

  They had all studied Dawn’s file and then had finished breakfast when the file from Andor came to Robin through Will.

  Pickett had a hunch she knew who had killed Dawn, but she wanted to wait for the testimony.

  That made it clear. Dawn had a boyfriend who had worked in the back counting room at the Landmark and then been transferred to another Hughes property when the Landmark shut down. She said in her testimony that she had asked him a couple of times about strange bags of money in the cage.

  Pickett was convinced those questions had gotten her killed.

  His name was Jarman Jones, divorced and a few years older than Dawn.

  All three of them agreed it was most likely him. And he had the knowledge of the Landmark tunnel after it was closed up.

  Robin got Will on researching Jarman Jones carefully, including his finances back at the time of the scam. Then the three of them went back for seconds.

  Twenty minutes later Will got back to Robin.

  Pickett sat intently listening for any hint as Robin nodded and wrote as fast as she could in her notebook. Then she said, “Thanks.”

  “He’s alive,” Robin said, “rich from that period of time, a claimed large inheritance, and works casino security with his own private firm.”

  “He had a lot to lose, didn’t he?” Sarge asked. “If Heather lived?”

  Robin nodded.

  “Damn it all to hell,” Pickett said. “Did Will figure out how much money the guy inherited back then?”

  “Five hundred million,” Robin said.

  “He’s our main guy,” Sarge said, grabbing his phone. “I got Mike.”

  “I’ll call Cavanaugh,” Robin said.

  Pickett just sat and shook her head.

  Thirty minutes later they were headed in Robin’s car for a meeting near Jarman Jones Security main building. Jarman had an office there and Robin had one of Mike’s people call to make an appointment in one hour to make sure he was actually in the building.

  Cavanaugh had gotten a warrant and in fifteen minutes Mike had his people stationed around the building and out of sight.

  Mike had told Sarge that Jarman employed ex-military and that Jarman himself was a highly trained sniper who practiced daily at a number of private ranges. So there was a good chance Jarman was good for Dawn’s murder, but maybe Heather’s murder as well.

  The guy was dangerous and would be trapped.

  The headquarters was a flat two-story office building with a wide parking lot and about thirty cars.

  The plan was that Sarge and Pickett would go in under the guise of needing home security for their new home. They would be stationed where they could see the stairs up to Jarman’s office when Cavanaugh and the police arrived.

  Their main job was to get innocents who happened to be in the lobby to cover if fighting broke out.

  Mike and two of his men were covering the two back exits until the police could move around into position.

  Everyone was convinced that Jarman would see the police coming and try to make a break for it. In which direction and how was the key?

  “You ready?” Sarge asked Pickett as they headed, arm-in-arm toward the front three steps and the glass doors of Jarman Jones Security.

  “Rather be putting up a tree,” Pickett said. “But since we are here, let’s get this bastard.”

  “Oh, I like the sounds of that,” Sarge said, smiling at her.

  They went in and gave their names to the receptionist, then moved over to one side.

  The lobby wasn’t that big and was full of some large indoor plants. Only one other couple was in the room and they were sitting reading magazines like they were in a doctor’s office.

  The front windows were clean and clear and the parking lot was obvious beyond the windows.

  Sarge and Pickett both stood and watched as five police cars came rushing in and stopped along the front of the building.

  Then Cavanaugh, moving fast for an old guy, bounded up the stairs along with three uniforms and two other detectives, bursting into the main foyer.

  “Looking for Jarman Jones,” Cavanaugh said, showing the warrant with one hand.

  Pickett and Sarge moved over in front of the couple who were now standing, looking shocked.

  “You need to get out of here now,” Pickett said, showing the couple her badge.

  She took the woman’s arm and Sarge took the man’s arm, but then something to Sarge didn’t seem right. The guy was carrying a gun.

  This guy looked like Jarman Jones with a wig on.

  More than likely the guy had decided to investigate new clients by listening to them talk in the waiting room.

  Sarge went to take the man by the arm as if helping him, then slammed Jarman hard into the wall and shoved him down over the couch, holding him in a way that Jarman couldn’t get to his gun.

  Pickett instantly seemed to understand what had happened and snapped the woman’s arm up behind her back and shoved her face-first into another wall.

  “Cavanaugh,” Sarge said, “I would like to introduce you to Jarman Jones.”

  Sarge used the barrel of his gun to brush off the wig from Jarman’s head.

  Two detectives converged on Jarman and two cops on the woman and just like that it was over.

  “Jarman Jones,” Cavanaugh said, starting to read him his rights, “you are under arrest for the murder of at least Dawn Gil
bert. Got a hunch we’ll add a few more on that list shortly.”

  Sarge laughed as Cavanaugh finished reading him his rights and took the guy out into the cool afternoon air.

  For the first time since they got this case, a sense of relief washed over Sarge. They were almost finished.

  Almost.

  Only one more thing to wrap up.

  Epilogue

  December 20th, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  * * *

  Pickett watched as Sarge knocked on the well-kept suburban home’s front door just to the south of the Spring Valley area of Las Vegas. Mr. and Mrs. Harold Gilbert had lived here for over forty years. They clearly kept their home up and loved it. It had a new roof and a fresh coat of tan paint. Even the windows were clean which was almost impossible to do in the winter in this area.

  The day had turned cold, with steel-gray skies, but not cold enough for Pickett to need to wear a heavier jacket. She hoped to make it through the entire winter without a heavy jacket.

  A young woman answered the door, clearly about college aged. She had a bright smile and long blonde hair. More than likely she resembled what Dawn had looked like when she died.

  “Looking for Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert,” Sarge said, opening his badge and showing it to the young woman.

  Then Sarge introduced them both as the young girl’s eyes got round.

  “My name is Connie. My grandparents are in the back sunroom. Is everything all right?”

  Pickett assured her that nothing was wrong, they just had news.

  “Oh, about my aunt Dawn I bet,” Connie said, nodding.

  Pickett said nothing to the young girl. No need to, she understood.

  Connie led them through the well-furnished and comfortable home to the back, where what looked to have been an outdoor porch area had been glassed in. It was comfortably warm and had a view of a valley and the mountains in the distance.

  In the summer it would have to be air-conditioned to stay useful, but Pickett had no doubt it was.