Michael McGarrity - The big gamble

"Well, well," Quinones said, "duped we were, so it seems. I'll fill Hewitt in, and let him know you're heading to El Paso."

"Thanks."

"Hey, Clayton."

At the door Clayton paused and looked back. "Yeah, Sarge."

"This is a mother of an investigation. You nail the perp's ass and believe me nobody's gonna sweat the small stuff. Talk to Captain Vincent Calabaza with the El Paso PD before you go to see Rojas. He's an old friend of mine. Maybe he can give you some inside skinny on the guy. I'll let him know you're coming."

Clayton felt himself loosen up. A grin spread across his face as he waved good-bye to Quinones.

Harry Staggs was petrified, almost unable to speak in complete sentences. Sitting in Luis Rojas's living room, he got the story out in spurts, telling him about Ulibarri's murder, the police SWAT team, and his interrogation by the local sheriff and the sidekick Indian deputy.

While Staggs gulped and talked Rojas asked no questions, made no comments, showed no sign of annoyance. He sat on a pale green couch and listened thoughtfully, occasionally lifting his hand to brush an imaginary stray hair away from his forehead.

Seconds ticked off in silence after Staggs concluded his monologue. Desperate for a reaction, he said, "What d'ya think?"

Rojas decided it wasn't a stray hair on his forehead, it was an itch. He scratched it. "Ingenious," he said, "but it would have been better if you'd left the girl out of the story."

"I was thinking on my feet," Staggs replied, "trying to cover for you."

Rojas smiled at the stupid little man who had told the police too much. He stood up and patted his flat stomach. At six two and two hundred pounds, he still had the body of the wide receiver he'd been in college, although he'd lost a step or two over the years. "I appreciate that," he said. "Would you like a drink?"

Staggs nodded and felt some of his apprehension fade. Maybe Rojas wasn't gonna grind him up and feed him to the dogs after all. "Yeah, Scotch, neat."

Rojas poured two drinks at the built-in bar and brought one to Staggs. "The police already know that I was gambling at your place, and that I was in my office at the time of the murder, so there's nothing to worry about."

"Except I'm out of business," Staggs said after he knocked back the Scotch, "and it's gonna take me a while to sell the cabins and get the money I need to relocate permanently and set up shop again. By that time, I'll have lost all my regulars."

"Are you going back to Ruidoso?"

"Not a chance," Staggs replied. "I gave my lawyer a power of attorney to handle the property sale. He says it's best if I don't show my face around there again. The cops would be all over me."

"Can you trust him?" Rojas asked as he poured Staggs another shot.

"As much as you can any lawyer. I get to review and approve any offers before he can close the deal."

"That's smart," Rojas said, returning to the couch. "Did you tell him where you were going today?"

"Nope."

"Why don't you set up shop here, in El Paso? The Indian casino outside of the city is starting to draw a lot of high rollers. I'm sure many of them would find their way to you, once the word got out."

"Like I said, it takes money."

"Let me help you with a loan. When you sell your property, you can pay me back the principal with no interest."

"We're talking two hundred fifty thousand, minimum."

"I'll still come out ahead," Rojas said with a shrug. "Some of your customers are going to want some female companionship, right?"

Staggs smiled. "Like always."

"So, let's do it."

"That's damn good of you, Mr. Rojas."

Rojas raised his glass. "Then it's settled. Do you need a place to stay?"

"I thought I'd get a motel room for the night."

Rojas shook his head. "That won't do for my newest business partner. I've got a nice house that isn't being used in a good neighborhood in Juarez. You can stay there until you get settled. It's fully furnished and supplied. I'll have Fidel drive you there in your car, so you don't get lost. In the morning, we can talk again to finalize things."

Staggs got a little leery, wondering who the fuck Fidel was. "You don't have to go to any trouble on my account."

"It's no trouble," Rojas said, reaching for the telephone.

He asked Fidel to come to the living room and in less than a minute a well-groomed, smiling, skinny kid no more than twenty years old arrived. Staggs stopped feeling wary. Polite introductions were made, Fidel was given his assignment, and Rojas said good night.

In the car, Staggs asked Fidel if he was from Mexico.

Fidel smiled at the question. "Nope, born and raised in El Paso."

"What do you do for Rojas?" Staggs asked.

"I'm an errand boy, mostly," Fidel replied. "I pick up his laundry, get his cars serviced, take him to the airport when he's flying on a commercial plane-stuff like that. It's only part-time, because I go to college a couple days a week. I've got an apartment over the garage. No rent. It saves me a lot of money."

"Sounds like a good deal," Staggs said.

"It's the best."

"What are you studying?"

"Business administration."

They passed through customs and drove over the Rio Grande into Juarez along a main street teeming with cars. Locals and tourists strolled past gaudy storefronts, neon signs blinked out messages, loud mariachi music blared, and food vendors hawked their specialties on every corner.

Fidel's cell phone rang. He flipped it open and said, "What's up?"

"Kill him," Rojas said.

"That's cool," Fidel said enthusiastically.

"Lose the body, lose the car, and everything in it. Any money he has with him is yours."

"No kidding? That's great. I'll talk to you soon. Bye." He disconnected and smiled at Staggs. "My girlfriend just found out one of our favorite groups is going to be in concert here soon. She's already scored some tickets for us."

"You got a girlfriend, do you?" Staggs said.

"Yeah, a real hot chiquita, and smart as a whip," Fidel said as he made a turn that would take them toward the Juarez dump. "We'll be there in a few minutes."

Staggs leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. Everything was going to be just fine.

Back in Albuquerque late in the afternoon, Detective Ramona Pino sat next to Sgt. Jeff Vialpando in front of a computer screen. A supervisor in the Albuquerque PD vice unit, Vialpando talked as he moved the mouse around and clicked on some of his favorite sites stored in memory. They ranged from adult porno sites to escort services to personal ads.

"Computers have changed everything," Vialpando said, "and the day is gonna come when street-walkers will go the way of dinosaurs. Well, maybe not entirely: there will always be guys looking for action on the streets. But they'll be the real low-end shoppers."

A really gross photo of a man and a woman came up on the screen. "This is what you do all day?" Pino asked. "Cruise the Internet and look at dirty pictures?"

Vialpando chuckled. "Not all day. Not even every day. Some of it's pretty disgusting. A lot of the porno stars are traveling hookers. They come into the city for a month or two, sometimes on a regular basis, rent a furnished pad, and ply their trade. The adult sex sites are a good way to get a make on those girls when we get a tip. A john who feels ripped off will call anonymously, a landlord might complain about a tenant, or a neighbor will report unusual activity at an apartment. We'll go out, take a few photos of the lady in question, or get a name and a good description, and see if she pops up on the Internet as a wet and wild one. Sometimes we get lucky."

He enlarged a photograph of a naked woman on a bed with her legs up in the air giving the camera a come-hither look. "That's Brenda. We got her for soliciting. It was her first bust, so she walked with a fine. But she won't be back in Albuquerque, at least not anytime soon."