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 Gilbert. 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.