The Big Gamble - Michael Mcgarrity [65]
“Do I have a problem with my driver, Deputy?” the manager asked.
“Not at all,” Clayton said as he walked quickly down the road toward the locked gate.
The man told him where to meet the driver. Clayton disconnected and smiled to himself as he climbed the gate. What was that old saying? Sometimes people were just too smart for their own good.
Detective Piño sat quietly in Sergeant Vialpando’s office while he examined the hard-copy printouts from Greer’s Internet personal ad and Web site. One shelf of a bookcase held a display of baseball caps from various police departments. On Vialpando’s desk was a framed photograph of a large, smiling black dog.
The bull-pen area outside the office was nearly empty. Only two detectives were at their desks. Except for paperwork or court appearances, mornings weren’t the busiest times for vice cops.
Vialpando looked up from the copies. “Compared to a lot of the crap on the Net, this is pretty classy stuff. Some soft-porn poses, no totally nude pictures, good photography, a sexy, narrative come-on that only hints at sex for hire, and a good-looking woman who wouldn’t raise any eyebrows if a guy was seen in public with her. I’d say the whole thing was professionally done to appeal to high-end clients.”
“So send her an E-mail and ask her for a date,” Ramona said.
“Not yet, unless you’re in a hurry,” Vialpando said. “We’ve got reasonable suspicion to believe Greer’s a hooker, but no probable cause. I’d rather put surveillance on her for a day or two, document her next date, interrogate her client afterward, and then bust her when she asks me for money. If I can scare her enough, maybe she’ll roll over on her pimp.”
“I can wait,” Ramona said. “Do you think she has a pimp?”
“From what you’ve told me, Greer is probably new to the game, so I’m betting somebody fronted the money for the Web site. They don’t come cheap, and I doubt Greer built it herself.”
“And Thomas Deacon?” Ramona asked.
“You’ve done me a huge favor identifying him as the photographer. Chances are he makes his bread and butter in the skin trade. He should prove to be a very valuable informant.”
“I get first crack at him,” Ramona said.
“Of course,” Vialpando replied. “Are you ready for your meeting with Bedlow?”
“I am.”
He gave her a worried look. “We never send our undercover female vice detectives out alone. Let me put a wire on you, just to be safe. I’ll park a block away, record the conversation, and be there in case you need backup.”
Given what Ramona had learned about Sally Greer, it was a good idea. She nodded her concurrence.
Vialpando nodded back, relieved. “We can meet for an early lunch afterward.” He named the restaurant, a nice but not expensive eatery in the Nob Hill district just east of the university. “I’ll have a lot of questions.”
“About the case?”
“Yeah, but mostly about you,” Jeff said with an easy smile.
Ramona stood and smoothed down her skirt. “I may have some of my own questions to ask.”
Jeff Vialpando glanced at her legs and said, “Like what?”
She touched the framed photo of the smiling black mutt. “I want to know everything about your dog.”
Vialpando laughed.
Ramona turned crisply on her heel to hide the flush on her face. “Let’s get me wired,” she said, as if she weren’t already buzzing with the small jolt of electricity that had passed between them.
Yesterday’s MRI test and his prior commitment to teach a late-afternoon class at the law-enforcement academy had left Kerney with no time to follow up on state senator Tyler Norvell. On his desk he found a file from Sal Molina with an attached note indicating that Detective Piño was still in Albuquerque and hadn’t yet reported in.
Molina’s public-records check on Belinda Louise Nieto had uncovered some fascinating information. Colorado court records showed that soon after the death of her father, Nieto legally changed her name to Crystal Fox. One year later she became a murder victim in an unsolved homicide still carried