'Eight or ten,' the man replied. 'That's usually the number of students she enrolls in each class.'
'Men and women?'
'Oh, yes,' the man answered. 'But most of them are girls.'
'Does she have any employees?'
'Not really. There's a freelance photographer she uses for portfolio and location work. Other than that, she runs the business by herself.'
'Is she successful in getting her models professional work?' Kerney asked, his eye wandering to a large canvas that showed a flying television set with rabbit ears hovering above the Golden Gate Bridge.
'I'd say she's very successful. A lot of the local ad agencies use her students, she has all the major department store contracts for fashion events, and she's in demand as a casting agent for extras and walk-ons when film companies come to town.'
'Sounds like a thriving enterprise.'
'Yes, I'd say so.' The man walked to the picture of the floating TV. 'You seemed drawn to 'Ascending the Airways to Heaven.' If you look closely at the distorted picture on the television screen, you can see a weeping Jesus. Miligori's paintings are allegorical statements of the religious fervor of crass consumer consumption in contemporary Western society.'
'I can see that,' Kerney said.
'Aren't they marvelous?'
'Remarkable,' Kerney said, playing it safe. The comment won him an agreeing smile.
Kerney left after allowing the art dealer to give him a brochure on the Miligori exhibit. Outside on the sidewalk, he used his cell phone to call the APD vice unit. The supervisor told Kerney the Bedlow Modeling and Talent Agency wasn't a vice unit target.
'Have any complaints been filed against Bedlow or have any arrests for solicitation been made that involve the agency?' Kerney asked.
'Nary a one,' the officer responded laconically. 'But it's always good to get a heads up on any new escort services. They come and they go. Are you suspicious of something, Chief?'
'Not yet,' Kerney replied.
'Have you got hookers' names or aliases I can run through my data bank?'
Nary a one ran through Kerney's mind. Instead he said, 'No.'
'Well, Bedlow looks clean from our end, but you never know. Now if it was Honey Pot Escorts you were asking about, that would be a different story.'
'Sounds like a classy outfit,' Kerney said.
'HIV city, Chief. We call it the get-laid-and-die hooker service. Dial one-eight-hundred dead sex.'
Harry Staggs sat on the daybed with a smug look on his face. He glanced at Clayton, gestured at Tredwell, and then addressed Paul Hewitt. 'My lawyer says you and Tonto agreed to my terms.'
Clayton stiffened in anger. Hewitt stepped in front of the deputy. 'There's no need to be disrespectful,' he said.
'It's just a word,' Staggs said offhandedly, sucking in cigarette smoke. 'I don't mean nothing by it. We've got a deal?'
'If you cooperate,' Hewitt replied.
'You're just investigating a murder here,' Staggs replied, stubbing out the cigarette. 'Nothing else, right?'
'That's the deal,' Clayton said. He took a tape recorder out of his briefcase, placed it on a poker table, and told Staggs where to sit.
Hewitt and Tredwell joined them at the table. Clayton punched the record button and said, 'When I ask you a question, answer it verbally.'
'Okay,' Staggs said.
Clayton noted the reason for the interview, the persons present, and the time, date, and place. He gave Staggs his full attention, hoping Tredwell and the sheriff wouldn't interrupt him too much.
'Did Ulibarri play poker here last night?' he asked, studying Staggs's face, which remained expressionless.
Staggs caught himself nodding. 'Yes.'
'Did he win or lose?'
'He came in the game with ten thousand, the house minimum, and cashed out at twenty-five thousand. I counted the chips myself.'
Staggs maintained his bland air. Clayton figured he had his poker face on, which made sense given his occupation. 'What time did he leave the game?'
'It broke up at five in the morning. That's when everybody left.'
'How many players?' Clayton asked.
'Six, including me,' Staggs replied. 'Ulibarri and the other two guys that were staying here went back to their cabins. Everybody else took off.'
'Did you see them leave?'
'Yeah, I stood on the porch and waved bye-bye.'
'Don't be a wiseass,' Clayton said. 'Did you see them leave?'
'No.'
'Give me names.'
Staggs named the players staying at the cabins.
'What about the other two guys?'
'They both flew in for the game. Ned Halloran came in from Phoenix and Luis Rojas from El Paso. Both have private planes.'
'Where are they staying?' Clayton asked.
'I didn't ask, but they probably didn't hang around town.'
'You got phone numbers for them?'
'Yeah.' Staggs got up, found an address book in a lamp-table drawer, read off numbers, and stuffed the address book in a back pocket.
'How well do you know the players who were here last night?' Clayton said, pointing to the chair Staggs had vacated.
Staggs sat back down. 'Everybody except Ulibarri are regulars. They been coming since I opened five years ago.'
'Do they always play together?'
Staggs laughed. 'It don't work that way. Players are in the game for the stakes, not friendship. Only the game matters.'
'Have you had any problems with any of them in the past?'
Staggs snorted. 'Never. You cause trouble here, you don't come back. End of story.'
'So, no problems?'
'Nope.'
'Who lost big?' Clayton asked.
'Luis Rojas. He dropped forty grand.'
'Was Ulibarri the big winner?'
'Nope, Ned Halloran was.'
'How did you do?'
Staggs reached for a cigarette and lit it. 'With my house percentage, I made a few bucks.' He shot Tredwell a look.
'That's a good enough answer,' Tredwell said.
'Did Ulibarri ever play here before?'
'No.'
'You let strangers-people you don't know-sit in on illegal, high-stakes games?' Hewitt asked.
Staggs gave Hewitt a baleful glance. 'He found his way here and had the cash. That's all it takes to get into a game.'
