most witnesses interviewed at the scene appeared to be high on cocaine 'or under the influence of other illegal substances.'
Faced with an unknown suspect, the detective assigned to the case had naturally concentrated on the victim. Crystal Fox turned out to be a 'personal escort who specialized in entertaining well-heeled out-of-town male visitors to the city.'
An address book at the victim's apartment yielded the names of men who'd been entertained by Ms. Fox, many on a regular basis, according to a meticulously up-to-date social calendar discovered among her possessions. The night of the murder she'd had nothing scheduled.
Departments as far away as Los Angeles and New York City had cooperated in the investigation, interviewing every one of Crystal Fox's customers who could be located. None, based on verified alibis, had been in Denver at the time of the murder.
A knock at the open door made Kerney look up. Helen Muiz came in and presented Kerney with the agenda of the appointments he'd asked her to make. Kerney knew each person on the list. All were politically well connected, reasonably trustworthy, and could possibly provide valuable information about Senator Tyler Norvell.
'You'd better get cracking,' Helen said. 'Your first meeting is downtown in twenty minutes.'
'Thanks.'
'Whatever happened to your promise to make your own phone calls?' Helen asked.
'Because of your charm and persuasiveness, I knew you'd have better luck getting through to these guys,' Kerney said, waving the slip of paper at her.
'Baloney,' Helen said.
Kerney laughed. 'Don't you mean to say that you respectfully disagree with my statement?'
'No, just baloney will do,' Helen replied with a twinkle in her eye.
Kerney knew that look well, so he took the bait. 'What is it?'
'Your doctor's office called. The results of your MRI came in. He wants you to call him back so he can schedule surgery. Does this mean no more limp?'
'I hope so.'
'Wonderful,' Helen said.
Clayton questioned the propane delivery driver carefully and learned it was company policy for the driver to announce his arrival at a customer's home. The man had honked the horn and waited for several minutes before proceeding to fill the tank. No one had appeared during the time he was at the cabin. Since the stop was on his regular route, he'd been furnished a key to the locked gate to gain entry. He delivered every two months. When asked, the driver noted that the tank was over three-quarters full, which probably meant the cabin hadn't been used much during the cold weather.
At the airport Clayton reviewed a list of airplane owners who kept personal vehicles at the parking lot. The list showed make, model, year, and license plate information for each. Rojas hadn't lied about owning an SUV. After cruising the lot without finding the vehicle, Clayton decided that maybe the girlfriend, Deborah, also hadn't lied about driving the SUV to El Paso as a favor to Rojas. But that was about the only truth the woman had told. It got Clayton to start questioning the whole girlfriend-boyfriend thing, again.
He headed toward Carrizozo and the office, using the road that would take him off the mesa and past Fort Stanton. He reached for the radio to call in his destination and ETA just as dispatch advised him that Hewitt, Quinones, and Dillingham were standing by for a meeting. He acknowledged the message, hoping maybe the blond woman seen with Ulibarri at the casino had been located. That might make things go a lot easier.
From her sister's wardrobe Ramona had selected a gray, midcalf skirt, a half-sleeve charcoal cowl-neck sweater, and black pumps. In Cassie Bedlow's office she sat quietly while the woman reviewed her enrollment application.
'You didn't answer one question,' Bedlow said, looking up from the papers.
Ramona shifted her weight and dropped her head. 'I didn't want to lie,' she said, 'so I left it blank.'
'Well, have you ever been arrested?' Bedlow asked.
'Is it that important?' Ramona asked.
'I don't expect my students to be perfect, Ramona,' Bedlow replied gently. 'But I do need to know if you have a criminal record. If you do, it doesn't necessarily disqualify you from enrolling.'
'Once,' Ramona said in a small voice. 'I was arrested once.'
'For?'
Ramona stood. 'I shouldn't be here, wasting your time.'
Bedlow waved her hand, palm down, in a gesture for Ramona to sit. 'This isn't an interrogation, and you're not wasting my time, dear. We just need to be honest with each other.'
Ramona stayed standing. 'You'd give me a tuition loan, even though I've been arrested?'
Bedlow laughed lightly. 'I might be willing to take a chance on you. People make mistakes. You didn't murder anyone, did you?'
Ramona reclaimed her seat. 'Oh no, I was arrested for possession of cocaine.'
'Tell me what happened.'
Ramona laid out the story; her ex-husband had been a heavy user who always had her carry his stash. One night while they were going home, he'd been stopped and arrested for driving under the influence.
'We were both pretty high,' she added. 'They found the cocaine in my purse. Just a little bit. It was my first offense. I pled guilty and paid a fine.'
'Were you high on cocaine?'
'Yes,' Ramona answered in a tiny voice.
'Do you still use it?'
'No.'
'Are you drug free?' Bedlow asked.
'Not completely,' Ramona said, looking away from Bedlow. 'I sometimes smoke a little weed. I drink, but not a lot, and sometimes I take a sleeping pill at night.'
Bedlow smiled sympathetically. 'That doesn't make you a major criminal.'
'I guess not,' Ramona said with a weak smile.
'Have you found a job yet?'
Ramona put on a dejected face. 'I've been offered a part-time sales position. But I wouldn't get enough hours to even pay my rent.'
'Have you ever worked as a waitress?'
'Before I got married, I did.'
'Let's see what we can do,' Bedlow said. 'I have a friend who owns a club, and he's always looking for pretty girls to work for him. It's an upscale sports bar and restaurant, with an all-girl waitstaff. You'd have to wear scanty shorts and a low-cut halter top, but the girls make great tips.'
Ramona perked up and looked animated. 'That wouldn't bother me, especially if I could make some good money.'
'If I asked, I'm sure he'd be willing to schedule you to work nights so it doesn't interfere with classes.'
'That's perfect. I'm a night owl anyway.'
Bedlow wrote out the name of the bar, the owner's name, and the address of the establishment. 'He's usually there around noon,' she said, handing Ramona the information. 'I'll give him a call to say you're coming to talk to him.'
'Oh, I hope he hires me,' Ramona said.
'I think your chances are excellent,' Bedlow replied.
'Thank you so much,' Ramona said.
Jeff Vialpando was waiting when Ramona got to the Nob Hill eatery. The lunch crowd hadn't arrived yet and the waitstaff was standing around the bar chatting. The place had a rustic, antique feel to it, with lots of dark wood and reproductions of old advertising signs on the walls. He stood up as she approached the table.
'I guess we don't have much time,' he said as he pulled out a chair for her.
'Forty-five minutes,' Ramona replied, checking her watch.
'You handled Bedlow very well,' Jeff said, returning to his seat.
'Thank you. But I thought we were going to talk about your dog.'
