December 4th, 2016
Las Vegas, Nevada
Retired Detective Ben “Sarge” Carson stood beside Pickett as the long escalator took them up toward the Golden Nugget buffet. The sounds of the casino below were fading as the fantastic smell of eggs and bacon hit them halfway up.
“Just realized I’m hungry,” Pickett said, turning and smiling at him.
“Suddenly got the same feeling,” he said.
The six-block walk from their condos had been easy this morning. The air had a good bite to it, but wasn’t cold enough to require more than their normal light jackets. The sky only had a few clouds in it and those were over the mountains to the west. It was going to be a beautiful December day that was for sure.
The buffet was separated from the escalator area by a wall of plants and fake windows. The buffet itself was huge with at least seventy or more tables in three large sections. Everything was decorated in brown and brass tones. Not gaudy like many restaurants in Vegas.
Comfortable, actually. And light, very light. That was one of the many reasons he loved it here. So many restaurants in Vegas thought dark meant mood lighting. He liked to see what he was eating.
Huge windows let in a lot of light on the far side. Those massive windows looked out over a large pool that seemed to always be jammed in the summer. Along the windows was the most popular area for tourists to sit in. He and Pickett always sat on the far side of the restaurant, away from the tourists.
All the regulars here did.
Sarge remembered his days of lying around a pool, mostly with his wife and daughter when Steph was young and he was still a patrol cop.
He had never been one for not moving and just being in the sun covered by too much smelly lotion. But those days watching Steph play and Andrea watching her closely were good memories.
It was Sarge’s turn to buy breakfast, so Pickett went on in and to their normal table tucked back to the right from the entrance. All the staff knew them here since they were regulars, so before Sarge finished paying, two cups of coffee were on the table. He knew that would be followed by two glasses of water and two glasses of orange juice.
It was nice having the staff know them.
Sarge just headed from the cashier for the food, following Pickett.
He got started his normal morning three-egg ham and cheese omelet made fresh for him, then while that was being done, he got some fruit and a muffin from the pastry area.
He took the fruit back to the table, went back and got a freshly made waffle, covered it with syrup and then picked up his finished omelet.
He really was hungry today.
As he was sitting down, Robin arrived.
Robin had been Pickett’s partner when they were both active detectives. They were known as the best detectives on the force. Sarge had heard of them far before he had gotten lucky enough to meet them after they retired. They had worked out of a different station than he did.
Robin was solid, with shoulders like a swimmer, and always dressed in a nice blouse and dress jacket that covered her badge and gun. Her husband Will had the city’s largest private security firm. He protected some of the most famous people in the world when they came to Vegas.
He and his people were amazingly good on computers and Robin was one of the best. In the cases they had worked together so far, he and Pickett had done the leg work while Robin did the computer work. Sarge liked that agreement.
“Beautiful day out there, isn’t it?” Robin asked as she approached the table.
“Better than most,” Pickett said as she put her plate of eggs and ham on the table.
Robin dropped her coat and purse and the cold case file she had taken home in her spot, then turned and headed for the buffet sections while Sarge and Pickett both started in on their food.
When Robin came back, they all ate and talked about the cats for a time and how they were doing with the new archway.
Then, as Sarge was sipping on his coffee and his plates had been taken away, Robin got to the case.
“Any ideas at all?” she asked, touching the thin brown folder that they had been given by Andor, the retired detective who was the connection between the Cold Poker Gang and the actual working detectives.
“An unknown young woman found dead in a closed-up hotel,” Pickett said. “No idea how she died, what she was doing there, or even exactly when she died, let alone how she got into the locked and boarded up hotel.”
Pickett just shrugged.
Sarge shrugged as well. “I got nothing either.”
Robin laughed. “We’re going nowhere on this one.”
“But we’re getting there fast,” Pickett said.
Sarge could only laugh and agree with that.