Until the Indian cop arrived at the county courthouse, Fidel was bored and restless. He’d left his motel room early, thinking it would be maybe an hour before the cop showed at work, and he’d wound up waiting almost all morning. Fidel didn’t know why Rojas wanted him watched, but it would be fun to follow the cop around for a while, sneaky like. Of course, it would be way more cool to kill him.
He wondered why Rojas was worried about Istee. Did it have something to do with the hit at Casey’s Cozy Cabins? That had been a bitching cool kill, and taking out Staggs had also been kick-ass. He’d made Staggs beg before blowing him away. The old man pissed in his pants and cried like a baby.
The thirty grand Fidel had taken off Staggs’s body made it his most profitable hit yet, better than the Ulibarri job. He bet a cop would go for even more. Fidel smiled at the possibility.
Time passed and Fidel started getting bored again. Too bad Debbie Shea wasn’t with him. It would be a kick to have her go down on him, parked fifty feet outside of the sheriff’s office.
He slipped his semiautomatic out of the shoulder holster and checked the magazine. He’d always wanted to put a couple of caps in a cop. Maybe Rojas would change his mind.
He put the handgun away. A vehicle pulled into the parking space reserved for the sheriff, and a big guy dressed like a cowboy got out and went inside.
Cowboys and Indians, Fidel thought. Carrizozo was total fucking hicksville.
From his time with the state police Kerney knew that the state government telephone system was unique in certain ways. A computer recorded all the calls made from each individual phone, and a monthly report was distributed to supervisory personnel so that they could track personal calls made by employees at work and request reimbursement for any toll charges.
In his office Kerney compared the faxed telephone record of calls made from Senator Norvell’s private legislative office phone against the information in the Montoya case file. Norvell had made an eight-minute call to Anna Marie’s work number on the day her appointment with the senator had been canceled.
The case against Norvell was building, but Kerney still needed more.
Sal Molina had left updated information on his desk, and Kerney read the hurried notes Detective Piño had prepared from the interview she and the APD sergeant had conducted with a woman named Stacy Fowler. Along with what Kerney had learned from Helen Pearson and Molina’s late-night briefing, it suggested that something more than a small team of detectives would be required to conduct the investigation from this point on. It would take a task force to get the job done right.
He told Helen Muiz to push the meeting back by two hours, and started making phone calls. Once he explained his agenda, it didn’t take much cajoling to get everyone on his list he could reach to agree to attend the meeting.
Kerney failed in his attempt to reach Paul Hewitt and secure his participation on the task force. He considered calling Clayton and dismissed the idea. As sheriff, only Hewitt had the authority to commit his department to Kerney’s plan. Most likely, Paul would agree to come onboard, so Kerney decided to proceed under that assumption and talk to him after the meeting.
A little after two, he walked into the packed conference room, where the original team had been bolstered by his second-in-command, Larry Otero, two of Molina’s detectives, the district attorney, the resident FBI agent, the APD deputy chief of police, a lawyer from the U.S. Attorney’s office, an agent for the Internal Revenue Service, a supervising DEA special agent, and the commander of the state police criminal investigation bureau.
With Helen Muiz at his side taking notes, he got the meeting rolling with quick introductions, and then asked Molina, Piño, and Vialpando to make brief presentations highlighting their investigative findings to date. He wound up the overview with his own report, got a buy-in from everyone present to participate on the task force, and opened it up for discussion.
The IRS agent would coordinate a team to look at the partners’ personal and corporate tax records.
DEA would handle the drug-trafficking end of it in all known cities where the partners operated. The FBI would do the same on the out-of-state prostitution rackets, and seek wiretap warrants on all partner communications including Internet E-mail. State police agents would dig into money laundering. Their first targets would be State Senator Gene Barrett’s CPA firm and Representative Leo Silva’s law practice.
Additionally, agents from the state police district headquarters in Alamogordo and Roswell would be pulled into Lincoln County to target Tyler Norvell. APD vice, with Detective Piño as lead investigator, would go after Bedlow, Tully, and Deacon. The FBI would use El Paso special agents to nail down Rojas.
The DA agreed to supply a prosecutor full-time to work with detectives on the arrest and search warrant affidavits. He’d coordinate the effort with the U.S. attorney and other state DAs to get necessary judicial sign-offs. SFPD would be the lead agency, with Deputy Chief Larry Otero in charge. Molina and his two detectives would run the task-force casebooks and assemble and coordinate all documentation.
“Stay focused, people,” Kerney said. “We’re going for racketeering, drug trafficking, tax evasion, prostitution, money laundering, and related federal charges right now.”
“What about the Montoya homicide?” Sal Molina asked, “and that murder Greer talked about in Ruidoso?”
“At present, Montoya is our weakest case,” the DA said. “I doubt you could convince a judge to approve an arrest warrant based on what you have, although it’s close.”
“Agreed,” Kerney said. “We need something that will connect Norvell to the crime scene where Montoya’s body was found.”
“That would do it for probable cause,” the DA said.
“I’ll handle the Montoya homicide follow-up,” Kerney said. “I’m going down to Lincoln County tonight. I’ll ask the sheriff and his investigator to join the task force and find out where they are with the Ulibarri homicide investigation.”
Kerney closed his file and gave it to Helen. “Mrs. Muiz and her staff will prepare comprehensive task-force packets on everything we’ve got so far and distribute them to you ASAP. We have to move fast but carefully, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s set a target date of one month from now to make our initial arrests. After that, we’ll continue to file charges as the facts roll in. IRS and the state police will probably need more time to nail down the tax-evasion and money-laundering parts of it.”
Kerney pushed back his chair and stood. “Everybody stay tight-lipped, and maintain a low profile. We don’t want to telegraph our intentions to our targets. Do whatever is necessary within the scope of your authority to keep them off guard. From now on, need-to-know communication is limited to task-force members only and their immediate superiors. If any word about the task force leaks out we’ll be facing a media circus and an army of defense attorneys. Good hunting, everyone.”
There were smiles and approving nods throughout the room. Everyone was pumped and ready to go, and not just because some dirty politicians were going to be brought down. If all went well, the task force would be a career-making opportunity for every law-enforcement official in the room.
Ramona Piño walked with a frowning Jeff Vialpando to his unit parked outside the SFPD headquarters.
“I didn’t want to bring it up during the meeting,” he said, “but we’ve got a slight problem.”
“Yeah, I know,” Ramona said. “We can’t keep Stacy Fowler under wraps for thirty days without raising suspicions.”
“So, what do we do about it?”
“Improvise,” Ramona replied as she watched the state police criminal investigation commander drive away. “Would a faked one-car traffic fatality work? Perhaps a rollover investigated by the state police?”
“Would your chief go for that?” Jeff asked.
Ramona laughed. “Didn’t you hear what he said about keeping the targets off guard? I think he’d be pissed if we didn’t do it.”
“Let’s s
et it up,” Vialpando said.
“Then I’ll buy you an early dinner.”
“Are you taking me on a date?” Jeff asked.
“That will have to wait until we’re no longer working together, Sergeant,” Ramona said, flashing a brilliant smile. “After all, I am the designated lead investigator now, which makes you my subordinate.”
Vialpando groaned. “Are you telling me I have to wait months before I can date you?”
Ramona patted Jeff’s arm. “You’ll just have to suffer through it.”
Paul Hewitt rolled a pencil on his desktop and thought hard before speaking. The last two hours had been spent listening to Clayton’s verbal report and reading through all his extensive documentation.
“I’m not saying your assumptions about Norvell are flawed, Deputy Istee. But proving them is a whole different matter. For now, Luis Rojas is the prime suspect. If that leads us to some clear-cut evidence of Senator Norvell’s involvement in this prostitution ring, then we can take action.”
Clayton looked miffed.
“Speak your mind,” Hewitt said.
“Are you talking to me as the sheriff, or as a politician?” Clayton asked.
“You really need to learn to be a bit more diplomatic, Deputy,” Hewitt said firmly. “Norvell and I sit on opposite sides of the political fence. Even if that weren’t the case, I wouldn’t give a shit. First and foremost, I’m a cop. If he’s dirty, then he’s dirty.”
Clayton dropped his gaze. “Sorry about that. I don’t do very well at being subtle.”
“No, you don’t. Now, we’re going to have to contain this investigation and keep it focused on the Ulibarri homicide. Since Staggs hasn’t surfaced, your best bet is that Deborah Shea woman. Since she’s a whore, she shouldn’t be all that hard to find. She lied to alibi Rojas, so you need to pull her in and break her down.”
Clayton nodded. “What about the prostitution ring?”
“That’s way outside the scope of what we can handle on our own,” Hewitt replied. “Besides, what’s happening in El Paso is outside of our jurisdiction. When the time comes, we’ll turn your findings over to the appropriate Texas state authorities, not the El Paso police.”
The phone rang. Hewitt picked up, listened, and told his secretary to put the call through.
“How are you, Chief?” he said as he smiled and sat back in his chair.
Chief who? Clayton wondered, watching Hewitt’s smile gradually fade. Hewitt reached for a pencil and started busily scribbling notes, his eyes signaling surprise as he listened.
Although the call didn’t last long, time dragged as Clayton waited.
Finally, Hewitt dropped his pencil and said, “We’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
He hung up and looked at Clayton. “Seems we don’t have to worry about limiting our scope. The Santa Fe police investigation into the Montoya homicide has led to the creation of a multiagency task force, and we’re in on it. The targets are Rojas, Norvell, his sister, two Albuquerque state legislators, and a member of the Tully family. They’re looking at a whole range of possible state and federal felony charges. Chief Kerney wants everything we have on Rojas, Norvell, and the Ulibarri homicide faxed to his deputy chief right away. Plus he wants your assistance on the Montoya case. He’ll brief us here tomorrow at seven a.m.”
Clayton looked at the thick file in his lap. “I better get started.”
Fidel was restless and irritable. Except for a couple of quick trips to buy some food and take a leak, he’d been sitting outside the sheriff’s office all afternoon, still waiting for the Indian cop to come out of the building.
He called Rojas with the news that nothing was happening, hoping he’d get to go home. Instead, Rojas wanted him to stick with the cop for one more day, which was a total downer.
Around dusk the cop got into his unit and drove away. Fidel followed at a distance. It was easy to keep the four-by-four police car in view with its high profile and rack of roof lights without trailing too close behind.
The cop turned off at the reservation village just as darkness fell. Fidel decided it was too risky to follow. He parked and waited across the road near a Catholic church for a couple of hours, in case the cop reappeared. He played some music and counted passing cars to keep his mind occupied.
When the cop didn’t show, Fidel decided to bail and head to his motel room. He’d be back at first light. Small-town cop work sure must be boring, he thought as he sped down the highway.
Chapter 13
Kerney didn’t do well in motels; he missed his own bed and pillow. He’d rolled into Ruidoso last night at a reasonable hour, hoping to catch up on some sleep. But Sara’s harsh annoyance about his bullheadedness and the prospect of facing Clayton’s negativity made for troubled dreams that woke him off and on throughout the night.
At six a.m. Kerney called his office to get an update. Helen Muiz had pulled her people in at five a.m. to finish preparing the task-force packets. All participating agencies would have complete packets by noon. Larry Otero, who was also at work early, had ordered them hand-delivered by uniformed officers running silent Code Three to the out-of-town cop shops.
Kerney arrived promptly on time at the Lincoln County courthouse to find Paul Hewitt and Clayton waiting for him in the sheriff’s office. After greetings, handshakes, and some small talk with Hewitt, they got down to business. Kerney kicked it off by detailing the breadth of the task force’s mission, maintaining an equal amount of eye contact with both men so as not to give Clayton any reason to feel slighted.
When Kerney finished, Hewitt pulled at his chin in a failed attempt to hide a smile. “This could blow the roof off the state capitol, and put the good citizens of Lincoln County into an uproar. I wonder if Norvell and his political pals traded a week with a whore for votes from their legislative buddies.”
“There’s no telling,” Kerney said as he handed out material on Sally Greer, Stacy Fowler, and Helen Pearson, who was described only as a confidential informant. “But discovering who their clients are will prove interesting. What I’ve just given you includes statements from three different women with personal knowledge about the operation, which has direct bearing on the Montoya case and Deputy Istee’s homicide investigation. This is fresh information, gentlemen, gathered in the last thirty-six hours. You’ll get full task-force packets as soon as they’re completed.”
Kerney watched as Hewitt and Clayton worked their way through the reports. The further Hewitt read, the more appalled he looked. Clayton seemed thoughtful and sober. He finished first.
“So Sally Greer was the woman with Ulibarri at the cabin,” Clayton said, “and Fidel Narvaiz was nearby to keep an eye on her because Ulibarri was her first trick.”
“That’s what Greer says,” Kerney replied.
“Did she witness the homicide?”
“No. Ulibarri paid in advance for twenty-four hours with Greer. When he went to the racetrack, Narvaiz checked on Greer and found her badly beaten. He got her out of there, took her to a motel room, and called Cassie Bedlow, who came and picked Greer up.”
“I don’t see that in these reports,” Clayton said, tapping the pages with a finger.
“Greer’s interviews were videotaped by APD vice officers,” Kerney said. “The transcription of the second session wasn’t completed by the time I left to come here. Greer did say, however, that Narvaiz left her with Bedlow at about eleven o’clock in the morning.”
“Ulibarri was killed several hours later,” Clayton said, “so Narvaiz had opportunity.”
“What do you know about him?” Kerney asked.
“He lives on the Rojas estate and supposedly serves as a personal assistant to Rojas. The Debbie that Greer mentioned is Deborah Shea. According to an El Paso hotel security guy, she’s a hooker. He also identified seven other prostitutes who probably work for Rojas. Initially, Shea alibied Rojas when I talked to both of them. Said she’d flown up to Ruidoso with him on his plane. Turns out that was BS.
”
“Tell me about it,” Kerney said.
Clayton filled Kerney in on his inspection of Rojas’s vacation cabin, which had exposed Shea’s false statements.
Impressed with Clayton’s good work, Kerney held back any praise and moved on to another subject. “And this Fidel Narvaiz, have you questioned him?”
“I’ve never met him,” Clayton said.
“That’s good,” Kerney said.
“What’s good about that?” Clayton asked. “At this point, he’s our prime murder suspect.”
“We need to work these cases without tipping our hand,” Kerney replied. “Narvaiz was most likely ordered to kill Ulibarri by Rojas, so putting a murder charge on Rojas is a distinct possibility, if we can prove it. Did you get any hard physical evidence at the crime scene?”
“Ulibarri was strangled,” Clayton said, “and we got some partial latents off the body around his throat that are good enough to make a match once we have something to match them to. And a few blond pubic hairs probably left behind by Sally Greer.”
“Those hairs can confirm Greer’s story,” Kerney said. “Let’s ask for a DNA comparison.”
“If you get me her fingerprints,” Clayton said, “we might be able to put her in the cabin that way, also. We lifted a number of unknown latents at the crime scene.”
“You’ll have them today,” Kerney said.
“You’re sure Greer isn’t the killer?” Clayton asked.
“I believe her story,” Kerney said. “So do the detectives who interviewed her.”
Clayton nodded. “That’s good enough for me.”
“What’s next?” Hewitt asked.
“The Montoya case,” Kerney replied. “I’ve got strong circumstantial evidence that Norvell killed her to keep her from exposing the racket, but I need more.”
“Two of your reports mention Adam Tully,” Paul Hewitt said, leaning forward to put his elbows on the desk.
The Big Gamble Page 24
