I was flying by the seat of my pants, but Bailey Gregory rotting in a prison cell for the rest of his life didn’t sit well with me. “Investigate the drug angle. I checked into Boyd Newton’s background after that weekend, before I quit working for the highway patrol. Newton has been arrested more than once for drug possession with the intent to distribute Schedule I and II narcotics. The cases were over the last month and were dropped by the LVPD. He was never charged with any crimes. Do you believe your brother had anything to do with the cases being dropped?”
“How old were the arrests? Thomas claims he’s only been seeing the guy since September of 2024. They met at a DNC fundraiser and began seeing each other shortly after that. Last month, Thomas received the first threat of blackmail if he didn’t give someone a million dollars, though my brother claims not many people knew about them. Everyone in his security team knew, and that’s part of what worries me.
“You left because of the affair, didn’t you? How do I know you’re not behind the blackmail threats?” Bailey stared at me, waiting for a response.
“I have no judgment on the governor’s sex life as long as he doesn’t have sex on my desk. The governor’s security team is vetted very carefully. If there were any red flags in their background, they wouldn’t be protecting the governor of Nevada.” At least I hoped not.
Bailey nodded. “It was only last week that I followed Thomas to the drop spot and caught Newton—or a guy I believed to be Newton—red-handed, picking up the duffel in Carriage Square Park. I beat the shit out of him and got the money back for my brother, but Newton got away. Hell, I can’t be sure it was Newton because the working over I gave him couldn’t have healed that fast. When I saw him last night, he didn’t have a mark on him.” The frustration in his voice was evident.
I had a fantastic resource just a few desks away from mine in the swamp, and I still had friends on the force in Reno and with the highway patrol. “I could check into things for you. Hardy, Sparky’s son, is a wiz with technology. He can find out… Well, I don’t ask questions when he provides background info to help us track someone who fled to avoid a court appearance. The kid is good at what he does, plus I still have contacts in law enforcement. It seems we need to find Newton and figure out what the hell he’s doing.”
Bailey sat in the truck. “I parked my bike at the Intercontinental Casino. I wouldn’t park a covered wagon here. This place is shady as hell.”
He opened the door and stepped out before turning to look at me. He still had some white grease paint on his face and traces of the clown makeup. He hadn’t had a shower yet, but he was still easy on the eyes.
“I’ve got a spare bedroom, a hot shower, and a cold six-pack of Bud in my fridge. If you let me help you out with this mess, you can get back home faster. I’m sure someone’s waiting for you.” Fishing for info? Yeah, I wasn’t above it.
I glanced at Bailey to see him smirking. “Gimme ten to get my shit and check out. Your assumption has a lengthy explanation that will require something more than beer. I’ve got whiskey in my room.”
Bailey closed the truck door and took the outdoor stairs two at a time to the second floor. When he went into a room midway down, I picked up my cell and called Hardy.
“Hey, Jagger. What can I do for you?” Hardy was always so upbeat.
“Hey, Hardy. I need some information.”
“I’m your man, Jagger.” There was rustling on the other end of the phone. “Go.”
“I want everything, and I mean everything, you can track down about Boyd Newton. He lives in Vegas as far as I know, and he works for Glory Hole Studio on Fourth Street. That’s a—”
“I definitely know what Glory Hole Studio is. Do we know if Boyd Newton is his real name?”
Good point. “No idea. Check his socials to see if you can get a feel for his known associates. Friends, family, bullies. A guy who does porn for a living has to have some right-wing nuts who want to make him feel bad for his choices. See if you can ferret them out for me? Also, run him for warrants. I’ll babysit Dixie for you one weekend when you wanna have some fun.” That wouldn’t be a hardship at all.
“Yes! When Monty comes back, I’ll take you up on it. He and Sparky are loud. I’ll be more than happy to get away for a few days.” I chuckled at the meaning behind Hardy’s comment. I was sure he wasn’t exaggerating at all.
“You got it. Uh, I’m home for the rest of the day if anyone’s looking for me. If we get a call for a pickup, call my cell and let Sparky know that Bailey Gregory is staying with me at my duplex on South Sorrel. He’s not going to jump bail.”
“Got it. See you tomorrow, Jagger.” The line went dead as the passenger door opened and Bailey got inside.
“Should you call your wife to tell her you’re going to have company for a few days?” He dropped a duffel on the floor and hopped inside.
I didn’t respond. “I could have waited for you to shower and change.” He still had grease paint in his hair, though the clown makeup was gone.
“Only cold water in the shower. Shampoo didn’t suds at all. It’s going to take an industrial grease cutter to get it out.”
I started my truck and shifted into gear, turning onto Paradise to East Desert Inn to get to the highway. My duplex was in the southeast valley, not far from Boulder City and Hoover Dam. I had a great view of Black Mountain from my small concrete patio. The sunrises were exceptional.
“Where do you live?” Bailey was looking out toward the desert at the solar-paneled roofs and cookie-cutter stucco houses that looked as if seeds had been scattered in a garden. That was why I’d moved farther out, into an older part of town where every home wasn’t the same.
“I live in the southeast valley. It’s just inside the Arizona border. Small residential community.”
“Nice. I’ve got an apartment outside of Carson City. I live not far from one of the public access ramps for the Carson River.”
Wow, we were really starting small. “Do you fish?”
I glanced at him, trying to imagine Bailey in waders and a fishing vest in the middle of a river. Before my mind could put a hat on him, I had him stripped out of the waders and into a Speedo on a double raft in Cancun. My head was fucking spinning.
“Eh, I’ve done some deep-sea stuff on vacation, but it’s not really my thing. I raft when I can. You ever white-water raft?”
