Michael McGarrity - The big gamble

"Mrs. Montoya is your informant?" Kerney asked.

Molina nodded.

"Tell me what she knew about the girl's wild streak."

"The usual stuff: boys, parties, drinking, staying out late, being rebellious," Molina said, passing Kerney a photograph. "She was quite a looker. That snapshot was taken right after she came to New Mexico. She was nineteen years old."

Kerney agreed with Molina's assessment. The photo showed a slender, very attractive young woman with high cheekbones, long curly dark hair and a well-proportioned figure. He passed it on to Detective Pino.

Pino rolled her eyes. "Five eight at least. God, I hate tall women."

"Why's that?" Molina asked.

"Because I'm not one of them," Pino said, dropping the photo on the tabletop.

"Hang on a minute," Kerney said as he searched his desk for Jeremiah Perrett's office phone number. He found it, dialed, then hit the speaker button, asked for Perrett, and the secretary rang him through.

"One question, Dr. Perrett," he said, "when exactly during Anna Marie's senior year did she talk to you about the young man we discussed?"

"Early in the first semester, as I recall," Perrett answered.

"Could it have been during the summer session?"

"That would depend on whether or not I was teaching that summer."

"Can you check on that?"

The three officers heard a sigh, followed by the sound of a squeaking chair.

"Let me look in my records," Perrett said.

The officers stared at the phone, listening to file drawers opening and papers being turned, before Perrett came back on the line.

"Yes, I did teach that summer," he said, "and Anna Marie was one of my students. We very well could have talked about the boy during that time."

"Thanks," Kerney said.

"Is there anything else, Chief Kerney?"

"That'll do it." He disconnected and looked at Pino and Molina. "Do we have a coincidence here?"

"Maybe more than that," Molina replied.

Kerney nodded. "Let's assume that Nieto arrives as Anna Marie's new roommate, gets right into the party scene, and pulls Anna Marie into it with her."

"Which leads to the appearance of a young man with money who puts the moves on our victim," Detective Pino said.

"A young man none of Anna Marie's friends or roommates know anything about because they were away for the summer," Molina noted.

"We should try to find Belinda Louise Nieto," Kerney said.

"I'll do a public-records search in Colorado," Molina said.

"What about the mysterious rich boy?" Pino asked.

Molina smiled. "Actually, I've got one identified-Cassie Bedlow's older brother. His name is Tyler Norvell. He lived in Albuquerque and went to law school at the same time his sister and Anna Marie were undergraduates. According to several people who knew him, he always had money to burn-not your average struggling grad student.

"He's now a four-term state senator from Lincoln County. Just got reelected last fall. Owns the biggest real estate agency in Ruidoso, a ranch, and he's a partner in a bank."

Kerney's expression brightened. As a state senator, Norvell would routinely come to Santa Fe for legislative sessions and other state business. "When was Norvell first elected?" he asked.

"The November before Montoya disappeared," Molina answered.

"I like that connection. Does his family have money?"

"Unknown," Molina replied. "I haven't gotten that far yet."

"What do you have on Cassie Bedlow?" Kerney asked.

"She seems clean," Molina said.

"Let's stay on her for a while." Kerney swung his gaze to Detective Pino. "Ask APD vice to assist. Maybe they can give you a heads up on what to look for, and how to go about it. Continue to play the eager student with Bedlow, and see what more you can find out about the blonde who got beaten up. She might be a source of information."

Pino nodded and scribbled herself a note. "What about Norvell?"

"I'll take the politician," Kerney said, holding out his hand to Molina. "Give me your fact sheet on him."

Molina passed it over. "On paper, he's a boy scout."

Kerney laughed. "So is every New Mexico politician, on paper."

Clayton joined up with Quinones and Dillingham to compare notes. They sat in a nearly empty diner by the racetrack and talked over coffee as long-haul trucks rattled by on the highway, the engine noise vibrating the plate-glass window.

Dillingham gave his brief report first, which consisted of nothing but goose eggs when it came to finding anything out about Johnny Jackson, then sat back to watch Istee and Quinones follow suit. After Quinones admitted to coming up empty, Clayton trumped them both with the thing about the blonde at the airport with Luis Rojas.

"Well, at least one of us got something," Quinones said.

"It's only a possible ID on the blonde," Clayton said, sliding the freeze-frame photos of the woman across the Formica tabletop. "I still have to confirm it."

"So how come Jackson's so hard to find, and this blonde pops up on the radar screen?" Quinones asked.

"Because Staggs fed me a line of bullshit about Jackson," Clayton answered.

"You're thinking Jackson is Rojas disguised?" Dillingham said.

Clayton nodded. "It's possible, and since the blonde didn't matter to Staggs, he didn't try to cover for her."

"Just another whore," Quinones said.

"Something like that."

"Let's go talk to Staggs," Quinones said suddenly.

"All three of us?" Dillingham asked.

"Why not?" Quinones answered, his eyes on Clayton. "We can overwhelm him with our collective charm."

Clayton wasn't sure if Quinones was simply making a suggestion or pulling rank and taking charge. Was he saying it's time to step aside, boy, you've fucked it up? Or was he just putting out a good idea?

With patient detachment, Quinones waited for a reaction. Since the sergeant hadn't jacked him around for stupidly falling for Staggs's fabrication, Clayton decided it wasn't a slam.

"Me and Dillingham will hold Staggs's hand while you take a crack at him," he said.

Quinones stood up and dropped some change on the table as a tip. "So, off we go to Casey's Cozy Cabins. Since you called this little meeting, you get to buy the coffee."

Clayton peeled off some singles, stuck them under the tab, and followed Quinones and Dillingham out the door.

For two hours they waited vainly for Staggs to show. Dillingham stayed in his unit concealed nearby to block off any retreat in case Staggs drove up and decided to bolt. Clayton and Quinones, who had checked each cabin carefully to make sure no one was about, passed the time in Clayton's unit doing paperwork.

Finished, Quinones dropped his clipboard on the floorboard, put his pen in his shirt pocket and said, "Let's take a look inside."

"That's illegal entry," Clayton replied.

"I'm concerned about Staggs's welfare," Quinones said.

"His car isn't here, the cabin is locked up, and nobody's around."

"All the more reason to worry. Could be that Staggs is a victim of a crime. Maybe somebody beat him up, ripped him off, and stole his car. Maybe he's lying inside badly hurt, in need of our assistance."

"I don't know," Clayton said, staring at the closed window curtains. He didn't need to make another dumb blunder.

"Don't you want to know if Staggs really duped us?" Quinones asked, reaching for the radio microphone.

Clayton laughed and opened the door. "Yeah, I do."

Quinones gave Dillingham a heads up on the plan, followed Clayton to the cabin, kicked in the front door right above the lock set, and went in first. The place was empty, but Staggs had cleaned out his clothes, all his small personal possessions, and whatever cash he had on hand. They found no papers or documents of any value.

While Quinones kept searching Clayton punched the last-number-called buttons on the telephone, jotted down the information and ran it. It came back listed to the El Paso company owned by Luis Rojas. He told Quinones.