December 4th, 2016
Las Vegas, Nevada
Pickett actually managed to sleep for thirty minutes before coming awake thinking about the case and that poor girl in that hot room. What a horrid way to die, literally baked to death.
She headed into what they were calling their main kitchen, which was the kitchen in Sarge’s condo. They had started to use her kitchen as a sort of large pantry and storage, which worked great.
She had just poured herself a glass of orange juice when Sarge came down the hall, yawning. His gray hair was sticking up in a few places as it sometimes did after he napped and he still looked handsome to her.
“Anything from Robin?” he asked as he too got a glass of orange juice from the fridge.
“About to call her,” Pickett said.
At that moment the phone rang and Pickett laughed. “Great minds all on the same page.”
Pickett clicked the phone on speaker. “We’re both here. Any luck?”
“Well, not sure what we found would be considered lucky or not,” Robin said. “First off, Will pulled about a hundred strings and we did an emergency push on the DNA off that cigarette. We should have enough preliminary results tomorrow to run it against some data bases.”
“Light speed,” Sarge said.
“Yeah,” Robin said. “Not sure what kind of favors he now owes people.”
Pickett laughed. Robin’s husband Will was just amazing. He and Robin had been there for her through her messy divorce. Two better friends couldn’t be found.
“Got you a name and address for one of the contractors who did the shuttering of the Landmark,” Robin said, “and another name of the security firm who guarded the place.”
“That will give us a start,” Sarge said.
Pickett agreed.
“Also did some research into the wreck that killed the Winstons up near Big Bear,” Robin said. “Missed a corner and rolled their pick-up down a slight bank and into a tree. Both died of broken necks.”
Pickett glanced at Sarge who was frowning.
“Let me guess, a straight road leading down into that corner,” Sarge said. “And no autopsy done.”
“Got it in one,” Robin said.
Pickett just shook her head. The Winstons might have actually died in that wreck, and without anything else suspicious, no one would have thought to look beyond the tragic event. Now, after this long, proving otherwise was going to be damn near impossible.
“Any kind of inheritance?” Sarge asked.
“A big one. Both the kids got five million each.”
Pickett was shocked at that. “The house we found the fake sister in sure wasn’t a five-million-dollar home.”
“Drugs,” Robin said, “plus two abusive ex-husbands and then time in and out of jail for drugs and DUI. As far as we can tell, she blew through the money in five years.”
“Wow,” Pickett said and Sarge whistled softly.
But Pickett knew that wasn’t unusual for people who came into money suddenly and didn’t know how to handle it. Most lottery winners were broke within years as well.
“So where do we push at this afternoon?” Sarge asked. “I’m thinking the security end of things.”
“I agree,” Pickett said. “Somehow Heather Winston and maybe a number of other people got in there through the security firm.”
Robin gave the name and number of the security firm and a man by the name of Crowly who had been with the firm since it did the security on the Landmark.
“Will says the firm is solid, keeps good records, and he has called the boss to ask them to help you,” Robin said.
“Thanks,” Pickett said. “We’ll call him now.”
“One more thing,” Sarge said. “Would it be possible to do a search over the last few decades of people found dead in shuttered hotels and motels?”
“Sure, should be a simple task to run,” Robin said.
“And would it be simple to add in other various reports around shuttered hotels and motels?”
Robin laughed. “That would be a ton of cases. But I should be able to put some order on it all. What are you thinking?”
Pickett was wondering the same thing.
“Something about this just feels off,” Sarge said. “Like we are missing something. I feel like we are looking at a tree and not seeing a forest, but darned if I can figure out why I am feeling that way.”
“Sounds logical to me,” Robin said. “I’ll see what I can pull together.”
“Thanks,” Sarge said.
“Yes, thanks. I’ll call you after we talk to the security guy,” Pickett said.
She hung up the phone and turned to the man she was deeply in love with. “You think we’re stumbling into something larger again?”
“I hope not,” Sarge said, laughing. “Just like you, though, I have learned to listen to that little voice nagging me.”
She laughed at that. Every good detective she knew trusted their little voice.
They finished off their juice and headed for the door. She didn’t notice until they were almost to the front door that there wasn’t a kitten in sight. More than likely all curled up together on a bed somewhere.