Free Kolchak: The Night Stalker: A Black and Evil Truth by Jeff Rice Page B

affair involving a large haul of drugs by air from Mexico to a small town outside the Vegas city limits where several agencies stepped on each other’s toes to the mutual and very public embarrassment of all, changes were instituted, mutual cooperation was arranged for, and heads rolled. One of the first belonged to the disgruntled boss of a narcotics squad who was known as a particularly tough cop. It was known inside his particular department that if he couldn’t effect a clean bust, he would always being along some marijuana to use as a “plant.” Thus, until the aforementioned raid, he’d never come up empty handed.
    The papers (our own Daily News far out in front) nosed out the story and shortly thereafter Las Vegas Major Olin Preston announced the new “combined forces” concept which has resulted in a more efficient law enforcement effort in southern Nevada. On any major crime that crosses county lines or city boundaries, a liaison officer from one agency is always present at the other’s command headquarters.
    As two of the bodies had been discovered in the county and one was right on the county line, the sheriff’s office had a marginal claim to running the operation. As the first murder had occurred in the city, PD Captain Ed “Bat” Masterson was named by protocol as command post operations director and Sheriff’s Lieutenant Bill Jenks was assigned full charge of field operations. In return for the sheriff’s office footing the lion’s share of the bill, the PD offered the use of its newly acquired Hughes helicopter.
    The sheriff’s office is on the third floor of the Clark County courthouse, occupying virtually the entire floor with windows giving a clear view of the municipal parking lot across Carson from Second to Third. Over its bulk, the tops of some of Glitter Gulch’s new high-rise hotels can be seen.
    I stopped off on the fourth floor and entered a door marked “Private” to pay my thrice-weekly respects to Helen O’Brien, the chief switchboard operator. [Now retired. J.R.] With very few exceptions, Helen knows more of what is going on in Las Vegas’ political and official circles at any given time than anyone I can think of. She can tell you what the D.A. had for breakfast; who is on “report” for misconduct in the sheriff’s office; who is planning to “ditch out” on a political race and why. And she keeps her mouth shut. There are not many people she will give the occasional tip to. Not many she trusts. I was one of the few. And she didn’t trust me too often, or, as she used to say, “Not farther than I could throw a piano.” At five-one and ninety-five pounds, that would not be far.
    She castigated me for my increasing girth and told me that the sheriff’s boys were checking with the department of motor vehicles on registrations of every white Chevy hardtop in Clark and neighboring Nye counties. She tipped me that the D.A. was meeting with Sheriff Lane in the D.A.’s office. I thanked her and promised to come by some night soon for some home-made cherry pie and took the elevator back down to the sheriff’s office. I passed by the “Complaint desk” behind which is a showcase of weapons–pistols, rifles and shotguns–and on around it, doubling back down a glass-walled hallway, and into Lieutenant Bill Jenks’ cubicle. Jenks works a twelve hour day and his door proclaims simply: “Lt. Jenks, Cmdr. Uniform Div–Day.”
    On the western wall divider of his “office” was a map of Clark County. A smaller overlay of Las Vegas was on top. It was studded with little colored pins. “Take a look, “he said, pointing them out. “Yellow for victims. Yellow with a slash for victims and witnesses at scene [a new pin, referring to Olive Bowman, I assumed]. Red for the blood theft. Well, what do you see?”
    I looked. A yellow pine marked “1” on Bridger between Eighth and Ninth streets. One marked “2” on the end of a long strip of tape running off the map on West