“Maria lived with some puta here in Vegas… Paloma. Pedro was fucking her behind Maria’s back. If Maria was pregnant again, maybe his side chick decided to take her out. I know nothing about the ways of jealous women.”
I chuckled. “How about jealous men? Does the Víbora Cartel know you bat for the other team?”
“Hijo de puta. No sabes de lo que estás hablando.”You son of a bitch. You don't know what you're talking about.
“Don’t I, amigo? You beat the hell out of Danny Bolls to the point you killed him. Maybe you thought he was Boyd Newton, and you were jealous of the relationship between him and the governor? ¿Eso fue lo que pasó, Marcelo?”Is that what happened, Marcelo?
“Fuck you. I want a lawyer.”
I chuckled. “You’re not under arrest. Right now, you have no protection from anyone. I also have something I bet belongs to you. Does a travel golf bag ring a bell?”
His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You’ve got our shit! You’re a dead man. If the cartel doesn’t get you, the Kings will.”
Before I could respond, the door was unlocked, and Spitzer stepped in. “You get what you wanted?” He was carrying the duffel bag, which I was guessing Jagger had given him as evidence.
I chuckled. “You need to find Maria’s roommate, Paloma. Seems she was fucking around with Pedro Vega too. Maybe she was jealous when she found out Maria was pregnant with Pedro’s baby again? Garcia said Paloma might have killed Maria and her baby.”
Spitzer nodded, dropping the bag in the corner of the room and squatting to look inside before he whistled. “What have we here?”
“By the way, this guy has the hots for Boyd Newton.” I heard Garcia sputtering his disagreement.
I laughed. “I’m guessing he hit on Danny Bolls by mistake, thinking he was Boyd, probably at Glory Hole Studios. I’d bet Danny turned him down, and Garcia didn’t like it. When he figured out his mistake of hitting on the wrong guy, I’m guessing he beat Danny to death to keep him from telling anyone what happened. He couldn’t leave the body at the studio, so he dumped Bolls at his apartment. It’s merely a theory, but based on his reaction when I suggested he liked boys instead of girls, you might want to check it out.
“Maria was looking for a key in that Chimi bag she shoplifted. It went to a locker at the bus station where she was supposed to stash the golf bag. For some reason, the routine was changing. Instead of Maria giving the bag to Paloma, it was going to be stashed in a locker at the bus station. Sounds like someone wasbeing cut out for some reason. That information came from a confidential witness, and the rest of it is above my pay grade.”
I headed out of the office and stopped in the swamp to wait for Jagger, who was talking to Spitzer for a moment. When he finished, he stopped next to me. “Ready?”
I couldn’t hold back the one thing that was driving me crazy. “What’s in the damn bag?” I asked. I could tell Jagger had looked and was dying to tell.
Jagger chuckled. “Lots of drugs and a list of names that I assume are distribution sources. Seems someone likes to keep track of their shit.”
Spitzer came out of the office with the pages and walked over to Jagger, holding them out. He pointed to a name on the list, his face very glum. Jagger raised his eyebrows. “Holy shit.”
I stepped closer and stared at the piece of paper Spitzer was holding with rubber gloves. I looked over Jagger’s shoulder, catching my breath.
Shit, indeed.
Whether I liked it or not, I was on my way back to my brother’s Vegas condo, this time with a police escort. Jagger was tailing Spitzer, who had called for backup. They were meeting us at Coronado Trails, blocking the Sunset entrance to keep anyone from leaving in a hurry.
I was told not to call Thomas, so it wouldn’t tip off anyone on his staff. In my gut, it felt as if I were betraying my brother. I was sure Thomas wouldn’t believe me, even if I called to warn him.
The guard stepped out of the shack and approached Spitzer’s unmarked car. Jagger rolled down the truck window to see if hecould hear what was being said. Spitzer handed his badge out the window of his car, and the guard studied it before handing it back. He waved Spitzer through as the gate opened.
We followed Spitzer with a simple wave at the guard. The patrol car pulled in behind us and stopped just inside the gate. The gate closed, and after it was secure, the other officers stepped aside and allowed the press to get closer. Not surprisingly, they went into a feeding frenzy.
Before Jagger and I got out of the car, I pulled him to lean over the console. “Stay down, please. I love you, and I have a bad feeling this is going to be fucked up. I don’t want you dodging bullets.”
He sighed. “I agree. Same for you. Stay down.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips over mine. God, I loved the man.
To say Spitzer was excited to get things going on solving the case was an understatement, which was why he didn’t stop us from going along with him to make the arrest. Between the information Garcia blabbed to save his own ass and the golf bag full of drugs, Spitzer was like a kid on Christmas morning.
Before we left Sparks Bail Bonds, Spitzer phoned the Carson City Police—not the Nevada State Patrol—and asked them to take Lindsey into protective custody, though we still didn’t know if she had a part in everything that had gone down. I was sure my brother would throw a colossal fit when he heard about it, but at least he was still alive.
Spitzer walked over to us. “This won’t be a pleasant visit, and I want no misplaced anger taken out on civilians. Stay here and let us do our job.”
Bailey laughed. “My brother isn’t a civilian, and he’s in as much danger as anyone. I’m not going to let anything happen to him. Are we sure he’s still in there?”
“We have a man inside, undercover. When Boyd confessed to me that he’d been in a sexual relationship with the governor atthe time he agreed to be my snitch, I didn’t want to exploit him or assume the governor was involved as well. I needed more proof, so I had a detective assigned to the governor’s Dignitary Protection Team. Detective Anthony Gallows.
