The Big Gamble - Michael Mcgarrity [68]
“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.”
Chapter 9
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.
Untouched hills that rose up to the national forest in the mountains behind the city had sprouted multimillion-dollar-view homes. Along Cerrillos Road, the ugliest and busiest gateway into the city, a commercial building frenzy was underway with national chain stores, discount stores, motels, supermarkets, and specialty retail outlets rising up from the leveled, graded, paved earth with alarming frequency.
Most of the population growth came from newcomers to the city, a motley assortment of the new rich, old rich, New Age spiritualists and healers, wanna-be artists, movie stars, celebrities of every stripe, trustfunders,