Burn Card, page 8
He nodded, then said, “Thank you.”
He clicked off his phone and glanced around to make sure that Ben wasn’t coming back into the room.
Then he leaned forward and said softly, “The four girls in the first house were all embalmed. All had their private parts sewn open so that they would be easy to have sex with after they were dead.”
“Now I want to be sick,” Pickett said.
Sarge just shook his head. This case was going beyond disgusting and right down into totally unthinkable.
“It gets worse,” Cavanaugh said.
“How can that get worse?” Sarge asked.
Pickett wanted to ask the same question. How could it be worse than that?
Cavanaugh looked around to make sure Ben hadn’t returned then he said simply, “The girl’s body under the sheet was dressed in a sheer nightgown and there are signs of at least five or six different DNA semen samples in the body in the bed, plus lubricant. Some of it seemingly fresh. They are working to try to get DNA.”
Sarge glanced at Pickett who was as pale as Cathy had looked a moment ago.
He took a deep breath and took a large drink of the water in front of him.
Pickett did the same.
“And it goes on,” Cavanaugh said, after also taking a drink.
“I am pretty sure I don’t want to know what ‘goes on’ means,” Pickett said.
Sarge nodded.
Cavanaugh looked around again, then once again leaned forward. “The body half dug-up in the basement with the hair and the hand showing?”
“Don’t tell me,” Sarge sat back.
Pickett wanted to just cover her ears.
Cavanaugh nodded. “Semen all over the hand and in the hair from numbers of men.”
There was not a thing any of them could say to that.
Three hardened, Las Vegas career detectives, shocked to their cores.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
June 15th, 2017
Las Vegas, Nevada
Pickett was sipping on the ice water, trying to clear her mind, when Ben returned carrying an old file box that looked dusty and had clearly seen the wear of years.
“Sorry about the dust on this stuff,” he said. “Been saving it to donate to some university collection somewhere, after I die. Cathy’s idea.”
He set the box on the counter and opened the lid, showing neat rows of files, all labeled by the year.
“I photographed only about six or seven girls a year from the year I arrived here until Cathy and I turned our attention to our business and I dropped the photography for a while.”
Pickett could see that he had kept good records and she was surprised they had survived so long. But it made sense considering how well known he was for his art.
“Can we look at the March house files,” Cavanaugh said. “Once you and Cathy were together?”
Ben nodded and pulled out 1977. “It was Cathy and her natural blonde hair that got me interested in blondes and a book came out of it that started to make my reputation as an artist, actually. Although I didn’t take advantage of it until almost a decade later.”
He handed Cavanaugh the file and left the room, coming back a moment later with a large photo book of nudes. The title was just Blondes. He handed that to Pickett.
“Some of the women, if I remember right, from the 1977 March house are in that book,” Ben said.
Pickett opened the book. It was heavy and very well done. The copyright was 1981. The book’s dedication was “To my beautiful wife Cathy.”
Pickett was impressed. All the women were blonde, all the photos were art photos, very well done, very tastefully posed.
And about half of the backgrounds were regular bedrooms like the ones in those horror homes.
Pickett leafed through it, then handed it to Sarge, who did the same.
“So these are the names and addresses of the six women you photographed that year in the March house. Correct?” Cavanaugh asked.
Ben glanced at the folder that Cavanaugh had, then said, “Yes, that is correct.”
“Would you mind if I give these names to another detective?” Cavanaugh asked. “Again, we will do our best to keep these completely confidential.”
“If it helps with this, please,” Ben said.
Pickett watched as Sarge called Robin, then clicked pictures of the files and sent them to her. Then he hung up.
Knowing Robin, they would know more about those girls very shortly.
Pickett watched as Cavanaugh took out the 1978 file and looked at it.
“Anything more you can tell us about Cathy’s family?” Pickett asked of Ben. “Her father, brother, anything that might help us on this?”
“Her father was one sick son-of-a-bitch,” Ben said, clear coldness in his voice. “I only met him twice and didn’t like him. When Cathy first told me what he was doing to her and her mother, I wanted to go kill him. Cathy made me not do that.”
“Smart woman,” Sarge said.
Ben just nodded. Pickett could tell that Ben wasn’t convinced that was the right decision yet.
“Did she know who you actually were by that point?” Pickett asked.
“Yes,” Ben said. “The moment we started falling in love, I told her the complete truth. And that was when I started learning about her father as well.”
“And you never thought to check on him after you two left?” Sarge asked.
“Never,” Ben said. “Cathy and I thought we had escaped. Our focus was to put that behind us. Cathy only felt bad about leaving her little brother in there, but we had no real choice. He was only five and she knew her father and mother had no interest in boys at all. Only girls in their sick games around death. So we figured he would be all right. Another reason to not look and check on what they were doing. We just didn’t want to know.”
Pickett understood that. She hadn’t really checked on her ex-husband who left her for an overblown chest because she just didn’t want to know.
Cavanaugh’s phone buzzed and he answered it with a “Yes.”
Pickett watched as he listened for a moment. She knew he was talking with Robin. She had no idea how much of what Robin was telling him he would decide to share with Ben.
And since this was Cavanaugh’s case, that was his decision.
After a moment Cavanaugh said, “I will check.”
Cavanaugh turned to Ben. “May I send the names for the next six or seven years as well? It is going to take some time to research all these since so many years have passed and we don’t want to bother you and Cathy again if we can help it.”
Pickett nodded to Sarge. Cavanaugh was very slick. He had decided to not tell Ben anything more.
Ben said, “Sure, go ahead.”
He opened up the files for Cavanaugh.
“Photos of the other years coming through now,” Cavanaugh said.
Then with Ben helping, Cavanaugh took a photo of each page with the girls’ names and information and model releases and sent it to Robin.
They got to 1982 and Ben said, “The blonde project was over by this point and I only did one shoot. And none for the next four years after that.”
Cavanaugh nodded, took the one last picture of the records from 1982, checked with Robin that she got them all, then hung up.
“Thank you,” Cavanaugh said, reaching out to Ben and shaking his hand as he stood. “And apologize to Cathy for us for upsetting her.”
Pickett and Sarge followed Cavanaugh’s lead, thanking Ben and heading toward the front door.
Cavanaugh handed Ben a card. “Please, if you can think of anything more you might know, call me at any point.”
“We will,” Ben said. “I am sure this will be a topic of conversation for us for the first time in a decade.”
“I am sorry about that,” Cavanaugh said.
“Detectives, please don’t be sorry,” Ben said. “You are only doing your jobs.”
Five minutes later Pickett had then headed down the long driveway from the beautiful home. They were headed for lunch at the Bellagio Café. Cavanaugh was following them in his car.
It seems they had made progress.
And slid backward at the same time.
Robin was going to meet them for lunch, and Pickett had a hunch Robin knew who the victims were now.
And as sad as that was, it actually was progress.
But they still didn’t know who the killer was or what was actually going on in those six houses of horror.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
June 15th, 2017
Las Vegas, Nevada
Sarge and Pickett got to the Bellagio Café before both Robin and Cavanaugh. They managed to get a waiter to clear off their favorite booth from a group that had it before them. The sounds of the casino felt normal and the smell of the food calmed Sarge. The conversation this morning was anything but calming, that was for sure.
As they got seated, Cavanaugh joined them.
Sarge watched the detective sort of slow-walk his way toward the table through the crowded restaurant. Cavanaugh was an amazing man and an amazing detective. The regular force was going to miss him, but the Cold Poker Gang were all going to welcome him with open arms.
“Well, this is a sick mess,” Cavanaugh said as he slid into the booth.
“They didn’t clean off your side of the table there or something?” Pickett asked, pretending to be serious.
Cavanaugh actually snorted.
“Thank you,” he said, winking at her. “I needed that.”
Pickett and Sarge had talked about the case on the way into town. The fact that the houses actually had regular visitors just recently might just help them. More than likely that sort of thing was set up over the dark web, but Robin and her people were really good at tracing damn near anything.
“The depravity of the human animal, especially in this town, never ceases to amaze me,” Sarge said.
“As old and jaded as we are as detectives,” Pickett said, “you think we would be used to anything.”
“Speak for yourself about the old part,” Cavanaugh said, smiling at her. “I have fifteen days before I become officially old.”
“Noted,” Pickett said, smiling.
“So what did you two think of old Ben and Cathy?” Cavanaugh asked.
“I think Cathy was an abuse victim,” Pickett said. “Seen a lot of that over the years and she sure didn’t seem to be faking any of those reactions, although I could be wrong on that.”
“Agreed,” Sarge said. “And Ben seems to be, on the surface, a really good guy who rescued the woman he loved. And they have been a team ever since.”
Sarge worried about that reaction. It wasn’t normal for him to have a suspect he completely believed. It had happened, but rarely. It happened again today with Ben and Cathy.
“Think it a little weird that Cathy helped him with his nude photography?” Cavanaugh asked. “After all that happened with her and her father and mother?”
“No,” Pickett said, shaking her head. “The photography wasn’t about sex, it was about fun and art. Remember how happy all those women in those pictures were? Cathy made being naked natural and fun and alive for the woman, not something twisted and ugly and dead like her father had done.”
Cavanaugh nodded.
“So Robin knew who some of the victims are?” Sarge asked.
“Yup,” Cavanaugh said. “No point in telling Ben about the other stuff, especially about what happened to his models because he photographed them. With luck, he will never learn that part. Bad enough they were killed because he and Cathy had photographed them.”
Sarge agreed. It was going to be hard enough when Ben completely realized that someone targeted the women he found, the ones he put in his book, and then had killed them. Ben and Cathy didn’t need the rest of it.
“Are we missing something here?” Sarge asked, suddenly realizing that he had looked at a book full of nudes from a professional photographer. “There are a lot of nut jobs out there who might hate what Ben was doing with the nudes.”
“Some religious zealot who thinks nudity is a sin and the sinner should be punished?” Cavanaugh asked, nodding. “Maybe.”
“We could even have a sick boyfriend of one of the girls be our killer,” Pickett said.
“So our suspect pool just grew,” Cavanaugh said, shaking his head. “Wonderful, just wonderful.”
Sarge felt exactly the same way. They needed to narrow the suspects, not increase them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
June 15th, 2017
Las Vegas, Nevada
Pickett watched as Robin wound her way through the tables of the Bellagio Café toward them. She had a backpack over her shoulder which meant she was carrying a lot of information and her computer.
Robin joined them. “Ain’t this case a pile of joy?”
“Sick doesn’t even start to describe it,” Pickett said.
Everyone nodded.
“So do we now know who all the victims are?” Sarge asked.
“All but three of the thirty-one,” Robin said. “They didn’t disappear the year that States did his photography shoot. In fact, they all disappeared in 1981 and were killed and embalmed that year.”
“After the fire at his dark room office,” Pickett said.
Robin nodded. “It was a pretty extreme missing person’s year that year and had a police task force set up on the cases, but without luck.”
“Eighty-one was the last year Ben owned one of those houses, right?” Cavanaugh asked.
“Yes,” Robin said. “And the last year the crematorium existed out off the old highway.”
“So the timeline all fits,” Pickett said. “If we can assume that Cathy’s father was doing this, he was trying to destroy Ben and Cathy by putting all the bodies up in the attics in homes they owned.”
“Looks that way,” Robin said. “At least that’s one theory. I have no other at the moment, to be honest.”
Pickett had her notebook open and went to a couple questions she had.
“How did Cathy’s father manage to keep Ben’s fake name on the title when he bought it?”
“I don’t know yet,” Robin said.
“He just had a fake broker send fake paperwork to Ben,” Cavanaugh said, “and the money and have him sign. The house never really transferred, although Ben thought it did and got paid for it.”
Pickett looked at Cavanaugh and the detective shrugged. “Worked a scam case back about fifteen years ago where that was the scam. Only the buyers were getting drug houses to use, leaving the original owners holding the bag.”
Sarge shook his head. “A great way to get storage. The guy putting the bodies up in the attic was getting the money for the houses from the bodies.”
“How much were they paying the crematorium for each cremation?”
“Nine hundred a body,” Robin said. “Some more, but nine hundred was the minimum at that time.”
“For a hundred bodies a house,” Sarge said, “that’s ninety grand. Wow. What did that house sell for back then?”
“Twenty-three thousand,” Robin said, glancing at her notes.
Pickett was stunned. The money explained a lot of this.
At that moment the waiter came to take their order.
They all four ordered lunches and iced teas, then after the waiter left, Robin said, “Want the real disgusting stuff now?”
Pickett shook her head no.
“Do we have to?” Sarge asked.
“Getting old is making these two whiners, isn’t it?” Cavanaugh asked Robin.
“No,” Robin said, smiling, “they just know when I say something is disgusting, it is really disgusting.”
“Now I don’t want to hear it either,” Cavanaugh said.
“Too late,” Pickett said, laughing. “She’s going to tell us anyway.”
Robin nodded and dug out some notes.
“I called a friend at the lab who was working on this case and she and I decided to focus in on just one body in the second house that was in the bed upstairs.”
Pickett nodded. “I told you about how the body was embalmed with the genitals sewn open? From what my friend can tell, the body was ‘cleaned out’ every few months or so for the entire thirty-five years since the poor woman was killed and embalmed.”
“Oh, my god,” Cavanaugh said, shaking his head.
“So we only have DNA traces for the last five or six uses of the corpse.”
“Five or six uses in three months?”
Robin nodded. “That was just one body.”
“So why did they bury some of the girls,” Sarge asked, “if they were being used?”
“Burying didn’t stop the use,” Robin said. “Each basement had a shovel in it and each body had been buried in a very shallow grave in a black tarp that the forensics are getting prints off of. A lot of prints. Seems the girls were being dug up and reburied all the time.”
Pickett just sort of shuddered. This really was disgusting. Robin had been right.
“Are you telling me that a guy could go in there, dig up a girl and have sex with her?” Cavanaugh asked.
Robin nodded. “I found the listings for the houses on the dark web. The listings have not been updated and are not responding. But yes, exactly that.”
“Any way to trace those listings?”
“Will has his best working on it,” Robin said. “Trying to come at it from the contact side. But looks as if the clientele of these houses were from all over the world. And they paid $5,000 for two days’ rental of the house. Unlimited use of the facilities.”
Pickett just shook her head and tried not to imagine any of it.
Sarge looked at the stunned face of Cavanaugh. “I warned you about when Robin says something is disgusting, don’t ask.”
Cavanaugh laughed. “That’s some pretty sick shit.”
“Very sick,” Pickett said. “Very damned sick.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
June 15th, 2017
