Bad Beat

by Smith, Dean Wesley

  After twenty minutes of talking and laughing as they all finished eating and Annie got some food as well, Andor turned the conversation back to the case.

  Julia brought her notebook back up to the table beside her now-empty cherry pie plate and told Annie what they had talked about so far.

  Annie nodded, listening, then said when Julia had finished, “Where can we help?”

  “We have the Toyota license number and vin number,” Andor said to Annie. “Can your computer people have any chance of finding out where that car ended up thirty years ago?”

  “We might be able to backtrack from there,” Julia said.

  “I’ll get them on it early in the morning,” Annie said. “Never know what those magicians with keyboards can find.”

  She turned to Lott. “Can you send me the details on the other three bodies, approximate age, approximate time of death, hair color, height, that sort of thing?”

  Lott nodded. “I’ll get it all out of the files and have it e-mailed to you before I go to bed tonight.”

  “I think we should be able to cross-check with computer programs,” Annie said, “all the missing women from that time period to the details that we have and narrow it all down a great deal.”

  “Something not even the young detectives on the force had time to do,” Andor said.

  “No surprise,” Annie said. “Not with the reduction in money and manpower and the increase in population and crime, those detectives are lucky to sleep at night.”

  Julia nodded at that.

  “If we can narrow it down like that,” Lott said, smiling at his daughter, “we can then do the leg work to see if we can find some similarities.”

  “I’d love to be a part of that field work,” Annie said. “If you need me.”

  All three of them laughed and Annie smiled.

  “I have a hunch we’re going to need all the help we can get to solve this one.”

  “Amen to that,” Andor said.

  “We like a challenge, don’t we?” Lott asked.

  Julia and Annie and Andor all agreed to that.

  But Julia knew this case was more than just a challenge. After thirty-plus years, it might turn out to be flat impossible. But the only way they would know was to dig in and tackle it.

  SEVEN

  September 17th, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  THE NEXT MORNING Julia took off to do her exercise at the gym and Lott headed home to change clothes and take a shower. He had clothes at Julia’s, but he still liked his own shower and closet at home.

  Over the last year, he had removed from the bedroom anything that would remind him of Carol. He had no intention of forgetting her, but she had wanted him to move on and after all these years since her death, he was doing his best to do just that.

  And as Annie had said, “It was about damn time.”

  He had also moved his master bedroom to Annie’s old room and turned his and Carol’s old bedroom into a double-sided walk-in closet. He had had the work done secretly without telling Julia.

  Neither of them wanted him to sell the house and move elsewhere because they both loved the kitchen and also the new poker room in the basement where the Cold Poker Gang met every week.

  So if he wasn’t going to sell the house, he had to make it comfortable for Julia.

  He had also cleared out and stored all of Carol’s things from the living room and dining room, and bought new furniture for there as well, including a large new big screen television, something Julia had commented on and liked.

  It was his living room now, not the room where Carol had sat during her dying days.

  One step at a time is what he told himself.

  One step at a time.

  He had just finished showering and getting dressed and was reading the morning paper at his kitchen table overlooking his yard when Annie called.

  “We found where the Toyota ended up in 1987,” she said before even saying hello.

  “What happened to it?” he asked, his excitement climbing at the first real lead in this case since they found that diary, the one that they were all sure was fake and planted.

  Last night before they left the café, they had divided the tasks they had. Andor was going to dig into the facts of Paul Vaughan’s death. He had been Becky’s boyfriend and the supposed owner of the diary.

  Lott and Julia were going to dig into Paul Vaughan’s sister some more and try to figure out when that diary could have been planted or if she did it.

  Annie was going to work on the car with her and Doc’s resources. She was also going to attempt to narrow down the number of missing persons that matched the other three bodies in the grave.

  “It was sold in Reno,” Annie said, “a week after Becky Penn went missing, off a used car lot there.”

  “Car lot still in existence?” Lott asked, not having much hope for the answer.

  “It is,” Annie said, almost laughing. “Original owner still has it as well. Doc is still working with his mother, but Fleet said he will have the jet at the airport in just over an hour if you and Julia want to make a little jaunt to Reno.”

  “Wonderful,” Lott said. “Thanks, that will save a very long drive.”

  “And give Julia a chance to show you her old stomping grounds.”

  “I would never accuse Julia of stomping,” Lott said, laughing.

  Annie laughed as well. “Real good point. I’ll keep everyone here digging on the other women in that grave. Fleet and his computer people are feeling challenged.”

  “That can mean nothing but good,” Lott said.

  “My thought exactly,” Annie said. “Call me if you find anything.”

  “I’ll call you one way or the other,” Lott said. “Thanks.”

  “Safe trip, dad,” Annie said, and hung up.

  Lott called Julia and told her the plan and said he would pick her up at her apartment.

  Less than two hours later he and Julia were boarding the private jet for the short hop up to Reno.

  Lott really had no real hope of getting any useful information after thirty years. But in cold cases, you just never knew when or where a clue would come that would break the entire thing open.

  And maybe this time figuring out how Becky Penn’s car got to Reno and could be sold would be the one clue they needed.

  But chances are it would be a dead end. But at least on this trip, they would be riding to the dead end in style.

  EIGHT

  September 17th, 2016

  Reno, Nevada

  THE PRIVATE JET was the ultimate in luxury travel. Large leather chairs, a table in one area between two chairs, and a flight attendant named June who looked to be about Annie’s age.

  Julia had met her a few times on different cases when Annie and Doc and Fleet had lent them use of the private plane. And Julie liked her a great deal. June had a smile and laugh that seemed to light up a room. She couldn’t have been more than five-two and had long brown hair pulled back.

  Besides the two pilots, both former Air Force fighter pilots, Julia and Lott and June were the people on the big plane. Julia decided a while back she didn’t want to know how much it cost for them to “borrow” the plane. On just this short trip alone there were three very expensive salaried people, not counting the fuel and other costs of the plane.

  She knew that Annie and Doc and Fleet were amazingly rich, but every so often she really understood just how rich.

  She felt excited about going back to Reno. It had been years and she had kept in touch with her chief at the station every few months along the way. She had liked Reno, for the most part, but now she actually loved Las Vegas, and could never imagine moving back to the small town tucked against the mountains in Northern Nevada.

  It seemed that the plane had barely left Las Vegas when they were on the ground in Reno. During the short time she and Lott had talked about how to approach the car dealer.

  She knew the place, knew it had a reputation of decent dealings, and
as far as she could find, no complaints had been filed against the owner. But they both decided that they would stop in and talk to her captain first and get him on board and find out anything more about the dealership.

  When they taxied into the private plane area of the airport, June told them that Fleet had a Cadillac SUV waiting for them. It was white, just like Lott’s car they had driven to the airport. Same year and model, even.

  “How does he do that?” Lott asked, shaking his head.

  “Doc and Fleet keep two cars at the airport in all the major cities they go to,” June said. “The pilots and I will be taking the other downtown to get some lunch, so call us when you are ready to head back.”

  At that Julia just laughed. “It will be at least a few hours.”

  As they climbed down the steps from the plane to the tarmac, Julia felt the difference in the air instantly. In Las Vegas, the air, even at ten in the morning had been thin and hot. Here, at eleven in the morning, the air felt like it had a little bite to it, even though the sun was shining on the mountains to the west.

  It would be hot later in the afternoon and then cool off a great deal in the evening, something Vegas didn’t do much. And the air here had a smell of pine and mountains while Vegas air always smelled of hot desert and sagebrush.

  Julia and Lott’s first stop was police headquarters and except for a few new young faces, it was as if she had never left. Everyone crowded around as she came in and gave her hugs and told her how much the Vegas heat was clearly agreeing with her.

  She introduced Lott to a number of the other detectives and then Norbert, the chief of police, came out of his office and gave her a hug as well and welcomed Lott.

  Norbert was a solid man who stood about five-eight and had shoulders almost that wide. He had a slight gut on him now at fifty and a bald head, but Julia had no doubt he could take down anyone in the building.

  He had a firm but friendly way of running things and his officers and staff seemed to go out of their way to make him happy when they could. She knew she had as well when working for him. He commanded respect and gave friendship in return. An amazing man, someone she called a friend.

  A few minutes later they were sitting in his office and as Norbert often did, he got right to the point. “So what brings you two out of the big city and up to Reno?”

  “Working a cold case,” Julia said. “Thirty years cold.”

  “Your poker bunch?” Norbert asked, which surprised Julia.

  Beside her Lott smiled.

  “We call it the Cold Poker Gang,” Julia said. “A bunch of retired detectives solving cold cases.”

  “I hear your track record is top notch,” Norbert said, smiling. “The chief down there keeps me up on things and he asked me if I was all right with you still carrying your badge and gun and working unofficially with the gang. I sang your praises.”

  Julia felt herself blushing. “Thanks. I mean it.”

  “You folks ever want to start a branch up here in Reno, you let me know. I got a few more years before I retire and would love to be a part of that.”

  “Enough retired detectives around here?” Lott asked.

  “Other areas and state cops from this area,” Norbert said, nodding. “I have a hunch we might scrape together five or six who don’t use walkers and want to have some fun working on cold cases without all the paperwork.”

  Lott and Julia both laughed at that. For Julia that was the best part of investigating, solving a case and giving the younger detectives the credit and the paperwork.

  “When you are ready to roll,” Lott said, “Some of us will come up and tell you how we do it.”

  “Perfect,” Norbert said. “So how does your cold case link in here?”

  Julia went through what they knew about the Becky Penn disappearance, about the other unidentified bodies, the delay, and now they had traced Becky’s car to a dealership here called Bonanza Used Cars.”

  Norbert nodded. “Dewey Maxwell has had that place for forty years. Inherited it when he was twenty-two when his dad was killed in a hunting accident.”

  “Anything you can tell us about him?” Julia asked. “I never had any reason to do anything but drive by the place.”

  “No one has,” Norbert said. “Dewey runs a very tight ship. All legal and aboveboard. Member of the chamber and Elks and has kids out of college. One of them is working with him now, from what I hear.”

  Julia was feeling a little hopeful. Maybe Dewey might be able to help them.

  “Tell Dewey that I say hi,” Norbert said.

  “I will,” Julia said. And with a hug for her former chief, she and Lott were headed out of her old headquarters.

  It had felt odd to be back. A part of her felt like she had never left.

  But most of her knew that her new life, one she loved more than any of her years in Reno, was beside Lott and in Las Vegas trying to help where she could.

  That felt perfect for her. So as she walked out, she didn’t even look back.

  NINE

  September 17th, 2016

  Reno, Nevada

  LOTT HADN’T BEEN surprised at how much Julia was loved in her old headquarters. Over the last few years getting to know her, he couldn’t imagine anyone not liking her.

  And her former chief, Norbert, clearly respected her and she felt the same for him. Lott had instantly liked the chief. A solid man who Lott had no doubt could be trusted completely on anything.

  On the way to the car dealership, Lott and Julia had decided to just tell Dewey Maxwell the truth about what they were doing. After thirty years, it didn’t seem to make any sense to try to hide any information from the man.

  Lott didn’t know what to expect from the dealership, but when they pulled in, he had still been surprised. It was a large place, covering acres along one side of the main highway to the south of Reno. It was well lit, the cars polished and clean, and the main building of the dealership looked almost new.

  A second building held a number of repair bays and a bunch of mechanics.

  “Wow, this place is nicer and bigger than I imagined it to be,” Lott said.

  “I think they have made a few improvements since I left,” Annie said. “But still about the same size.”

  They headed through the slowly warming morning air and into the dealership. The inside had a dozen cars scattered around a polished floor showroom and at least four salesmen at desks.

  One stood and came toward them smiling, thinking they were hot clients, no doubt thanks to the Cadillac they had pulled up in.

  Before the poor guy could say anything, Lott and Julia both flashed their badges and asked to see Dewey. The fake smile vanished from the guy’s face instantly and he took them down a hallway to the right of the showroom and knocked on a door.

  “Come in,” a voice said and the salesman indicated they should go in and then he almost ran back to the showroom. Lott smiled at Julia. Sometimes it was fun to mess with people’s minds like that.

  Dewey Maxwell seemed to be about Lott’s age, with a full head of gray hair and a white moustache. He stood from behind his desk when they came in and Lott was surprised he was taller than Lott’s six foot height. Dewey had to be a good six-three or more.

  He and Julia both introduced themselves, apologized for taking his time, and got him smiling when Julia said the chief wanted them to say hello for him.

  “So what can I help you with, Detectives?” Dewey asked.

  Julia told him about the case they were working on, then asked about Becky Penn’s red Toyota that was sold here. She gave him the exact year and vin number on the car.

  “I keep track of every car I ever bought and sold,” Dewey said.

  “We’re interested in who sold it to you and what was the registration on it.”

  “You saying this car belonged to a girl who died?” Dewey said, shaking his head. “Let me see how the hell I ended up with it.”

  Dewey turned to his computer and started typing, looking at the no
te with the vin number Julia had given him.

  Lott’s heart jumped. Could it really be possible that they would get so lucky as to find out who sold Becky Penn’s car?

  “Oh, sure,” Dewey said, nodding. “Duane sold me that car way back. He has sold me a lot of cars over the years.”

  “Do you have his full name and records on the car?” Julia asked.

  “Oh, sure,” Dewey said. “His name is Duane Thorn. Lives down by you folks in Vegas from what I understand. He’s a great scout. One of my best.”

  At that, Dewey punched a button and a printer against the wall started to warm up.

  “Scout?” Lott asked, not wanting to trust his guess as to what a car scout did or didn’t do?

  “All major car dealers use them,” Dewey said, standing to go get the information from the printer. “They are licensed by the state to buy and resell cars. They make their living from the difference they can find a car for and clean it up and what I give them.”

  Lott watched as Dewey took the paper from the printer and then handed it to Julia.

  “Here’s the information he gave me on the car, the title, and his information and his reseller’s license,” Dewey said.

  Lott glanced at the picture on the license. They guy looked slightly familiar from somewhere.

  “He’s still around?” Julia asked a fraction of a second before Lott could.

  “Sure is,” Dewey said, sitting back into his chair with a sigh. “He became a reseller a few years before that Toyota. If memory serves, he had already sold me five or six cars at that point.”

  “Would it be possible to get the information on all the cars he’s sold you over the years?” Lott asked. “It would help a great deal to know before we talk with him.”

  Lott’s gut was twisting and he didn’t want to think about what had crossed his mind. They had to clear out the chance that this Duane guy was the guy who killed those four women.

  And maybe others.