The Big Gamble - Michael Mcgarrity [54]
“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?” Piño 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 Piño. “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.”
Piño 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