Michael McGarrity - The big gamble

He headed toward Carrizozo and the office, using the road that would take him off the mesa and past Fort Stanton. He reached for the radio to call in his destination and ETA just as dispatch advised him that Hewitt, Quinones, and Dillingham were standing by for a meeting. He acknowledged the message, hoping maybe the blond woman seen with Ulibarri at the casino had been located. That might make things go a lot easier.

From her sister's wardrobe Ramona had selected a gray, midcalf skirt, a half-sleeve charcoal cowl-neck sweater, and black pumps. In Cassie Bedlow's office she sat quietly while the woman reviewed her enrollment application.

"You didn't answer one question," Bedlow said, looking up from the papers.

Ramona shifted her weight and dropped her head. "I didn't want to lie," she said, "so I left it blank."

"Well, have you ever been arrested?" Bedlow asked.

"Is it that important?" Ramona asked.

"I don't expect my students to be perfect, Ramona," Bedlow replied gently. "But I do need to know if you have a criminal record. If you do, it doesn't necessarily disqualify you from enrolling."

"Once," Ramona said in a small voice. "I was arrested once."

"For?"

Ramona stood. "I shouldn't be here, wasting your time."

Bedlow waved her hand, palm down, in a gesture for Ramona to sit. "This isn't an interrogation, and you're not wasting my time, dear. We just need to be honest with each other."

Ramona stayed standing. "You'd give me a tuition loan, even though I've been arrested?"

Bedlow laughed lightly. "I might be willing to take a chance on you. People make mistakes. You didn't murder anyone, did you?"

Ramona reclaimed her seat. "Oh no, I was arrested for possession of cocaine."

"Tell me what happened."

Ramona laid out the story; her ex-husband had been a heavy user who always had her carry his stash. One night while they were going home, he'd been stopped and arrested for driving under the influence.

"We were both pretty high," she added. "They found the cocaine in my purse. Just a little bit. It was my first offense. I pled guilty and paid a fine."

"Were you high on cocaine?"

"Yes," Ramona answered in a tiny voice.

"Do you still use it?"

"No."

"Are you drug free?" Bedlow asked.

"Not completely," Ramona said, looking away from Bedlow. "I sometimes smoke a little weed. I drink, but not a lot, and sometimes I take a sleeping pill at night."

Bedlow smiled sympathetically. "That doesn't make you a major criminal."

"I guess not," Ramona said with a weak smile.

"Have you found a job yet?"

Ramona put on a dejected face. "I've been offered a part-time sales position. But I wouldn't get enough hours to even pay my rent."

"Have you ever worked as a waitress?"

"Before I got married, I did."

"Let's see what we can do," Bedlow said. "I have a friend who owns a club, and he's always looking for pretty girls to work for him. It's an upscale sports bar and restaurant, with an all-girl waitstaff. You'd have to wear scanty shorts and a low-cut halter top, but the girls make great tips."

Ramona perked up and looked animated. "That wouldn't bother me, especially if I could make some good money."

"If I asked, I'm sure he'd be willing to schedule you to work nights so it doesn't interfere with classes."

"That's perfect. I'm a night owl anyway."

Bedlow wrote out the name of the bar, the owner's name, and the address of the establishment. "He's usually there around noon," she said, handing Ramona the information. "I'll give him a call to say you're coming to talk to him."

"Oh, I hope he hires me," Ramona said.

"I think your chances are excellent," Bedlow replied.

"Thank you so much," Ramona said.

Jeff Vialpando was waiting when Ramona got to the Nob Hill eatery. The lunch crowd hadn't arrived yet and the waitstaff was standing around the bar chatting. The place had a rustic, antique feel to it, with lots of dark wood and reproductions of old advertising signs on the walls. He stood up as she approached the table.

"I guess we don't have much time," he said as he pulled out a chair for her.

"Forty-five minutes," Ramona replied, checking her watch.

"You handled Bedlow very well," Jeff said, returning to his seat.

"Thank you. But I thought we were going to talk about your dog."

"That will have to wait for another time," Jeff replied. "While you were with Bedlow, I had one of my detectives search several escort-rating Web sites."

"An escort what?" Ramona asked.

Vialpando smiled. "Your education about vice and the Internet has just begun. Many hookers are rated by their clients on the World Wide Web. Some women even post the testimonials they've received from satisfied customers on their personal Web sites. Sultry Sally has gotten her first grade, and it's a good one."

He handed Ramona a computer printout. It read: Although new to her profession, Sultry Sally from Albuquerque is a charming, lovely young woman eager to please. She could be a bit more inventive, but takes direction well. Sally is well worth your time and money. I look forward to our next date. Four stars, which is excellent for a girl just starting out.

"This is mind-boggling," Ramona said.

Jeff waited for the busboy to pour water and go away. "It could be fake. Many of the Internet ads and testimonials are. You don't always get what you call up and ask for."

"So that's why some of the sites guarantee that it's an actual picture of the girl."

"Exactly. Truth in advertising, so to speak."

"Now what do we do?" Ramona asked.

"Order lunch," Jeff said as a waiter approached with a basket of freshly baked breads and rolls. "I recommend the cup of soup and the house salad."

Ramona grabbed one of the menus that had been left on the table and scanned it. Nothing jumped out at her. "You're not a meat and potatoes kind of guy?"

"Not at this time of day."

"Soup and salad sounds good," Ramona said, handing the menu off to the waiter.

Vialpando ordered the same. The waiter nodded and left.

"You didn't answer my question," Ramona said. "What's the next move?"

"You still don't have anything solid on Bedlow," Jeff replied.

"Yeah, I know it. But I got this feeling about her. She didn't even raise an eyebrow or give me a motherly lecture about smoking dope and popping sleeping pills when I copped to being a user. It was almost like she was pleased that I wasn't a straight, Goody Two-shoes. Then she laid this job possibility on me. Don't you think that was a little strange?"

"Not if she's reeling you in for something other than a career in fashion modeling," Jeff answered.

"I wonder if that's what happened to Sally Greer," Ramona said.

"Where's the job she turned you on to?"

Ramona gave him the note and his eyes widened. "Jesus, we've been trying to get someone in this place undercover for the past six months. So has narcotics."

"Well, here's your chance," Ramona said as she buttered a roll.

"This could be dangerous," Jeff said, searching Ramona's face. She had remarkably pretty eyes.

"I think I can handle it." Ramona took a bite of the roll. She'd skipped breakfast and her stomach was grumbling for food. "I did two years undercover narcotics. Fill me in."

Since Kerney's arrival in Santa Fe years ago as a rookie officer, the city had changed dramatically. Where there used to be open pastureland and dirt roads, there were now trailer parks, residential subdivisions, strip malls, and paved streets. Several working cattle ranches that once bordered the city were either gated communities for the very rich, burgeoning middle-class enclaves for those who sought country living on an acre and a half, or clustered housing tracts on postage-stamp lots for families willing to pay a quarter of a million dollars or more for the convenience of living in town.