Notorious (20 page)

T
he hotel casino where
Melanie and Papo were meeting the informant was tricked out to look like the deck of the starship
Enterprise
. Klingon cocktail waitresses in full space regalia cruised the floor taking drink orders. Melanie felt like a space alien herself tonight. They'd stopped at their hotel, and she'd made a quick visit to the boutique in the lobby, looking for an outfit that said “Vegas” instead of “Fed.” She'd been successful, and now she was in disguise, wearing a skimpy, spaghetti-strapped top covered with big silver spangles, blue jeans and high heels. Every time she moved, the paillettes on her chest shimmied and clicked. With Papo posing as her biker honey, Melanie blended right into the scenery.

They found seats at the far end of the bar, which was crowded. Papo opened his wallet and sneaked a peek at the informant's mug shot, then scanned the room methodically.

Nothing.

“Duvall says this dude's always late anyway,” Papo said.

“Where are Duvall and Alejandro now?”

“Duvall's on a buy. Alejandro should be here. But I got a feeling
this meet is more important to us than it is to them. Might as well order a drink. Could be a while.”

Papo ordered a Jack Daniel's, Melanie a glass of Chardonnay.

“If I were you, I'd watch out for the wine in a place like this,” Papo said with a grimace.

“Really?”

“Well, as long as you don't mind it coming from a carton.”

Their drinks arrived. They sat for a while, Papo's eyes restlessly searching the floor of the crowded casino. The place reeked of cigarettes. For the first thirty minutes she'd been in Vegas, Melanie had found the all-pervasive smell of smoke decadent, almost glamorous. Now it just gave her a headache. She wished she had a Tylenol. Instead, Papo pulled a crumpled pack of Marlboros from the pocket of his black leather jacket and offered her one.

“No thanks, I don't smoke. I'm surprised you do.”

“Who, me?” he said, holding the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, dragging deeply and watching the smoke curl into the air with narrowed eyes. He was relishing every second. “I don't smoke, either. Anyway, if my wife asks, that's what you say.”

Melanie laughed.

“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?” Papo said. “Hey, I think that's him. Wait here.”

Melanie didn't exactly see who Papo was talking about. He crossed the casino floor and vanished from sight behind a tall neon-and-metal flange that was meant to look like part of the spaceship. She kept her eyes trained on the spot where he'd disappeared until it became apparent he wasn't coming back right away.

After five more minutes passed, Melanie was beginning to get nervous. Enough things had gone wrong on this case, enough people had been hurt, that she wasn't entirely comfortable about her own safety. Or Papo's for that matter, and he had a wife and two kids at home. To distract herself, and also so she didn't look quite so much
like a hooker trawling for johns at the bar, Melanie whipped out her phone and checked her e-mail.

There was nothing terribly interesting. A few notices from judges' chambers about scheduling matters, an e-mail from Jennifer that the stipulations had been signed and photocopied, a notice of a retirement party for someone in Business Crimes whom she didn't know.

A minute later, Melanie became aware of somebody standing beside her, in front of the seat Papo had vacated, but she was still reading and didn't look up.

“The goon in the leather jacket, is he coming back?” a familiar voice asked.

Melanie lowered the phone and stared straight into Dan O'Reilly's blue eyes. The sight of them was enough to put her months of hard work getting over him in immediate jeopardy, so she looked away, out at the casino floor.

“He'll be back any minute now,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Mind if I sit here in the meantime?” he asked. His tone was light and flirtatious, as if they were meeting for the first time, as if he'd never broken her heart.

“It's a free country,” she said.

Dan took a seat.

“You come here often?” he asked.

She couldn't help smiling at the pickup line. “No. I'm here on business.”

“Me, too. Any luck?”

“Possibly, but I don't like to talk about it sitting in a crowded bar,” she said.

“Discreet. I like that in a woman.”

Unable to fight her curiosity any longer, she looked at him. Big mistake. It was all still there. The thick dark hair—she remembered the feel of it passing like silk through her fingers. That football-hero
body, neatly attired in pressed khakis and a denim shirt. That face, those eyes. She could handle it, barely, as long as she acted like she was some random woman in a bar and he was a stranger hitting on her. She decided to pretend she was her sister. Linda could handle any man in any bar anytime, even one she'd loved and lost.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, staring back at her.

“Thanks, but I'll stick to my Chardonnay.”

“Suit yourself.”

She didn't say anything. She couldn't; she was too busy trying—and failing—to break the spell of his glance.

“You know,” he said, “you remind me of this girl I used to know. She was beautiful, like you, and she wouldn't fall for my lines. either.”

“Smart girl.”

“Yeah, very smart. Smart enough to break up with me.”

She forced herself to look away. “So you admit she had her reasons?”

“Oh, definitely. I've thought about it a lot, and now I understand she had good reasons. The problem is, I'm still hung up on her.”

Channel Linda, channel Linda,
Melanie told herself. The best way to deal with him was to act like this was all a big joke. She refused to let him back into her heart. It was too late to make things right.

“That's probably not something you want to confide to a woman when you first meet her,” she said, tossing her head. “That you're still hung up on somebody else, I mean.”

He laughed. “Thanks for the tip. I'll work on my technique.”

Melanie's phone rang.

“Excuse me,” she said, flipping it open. “Hello?”

“Who's that guy you're talking to?” Papo asked.

Melanie looked Dan in the eye. “Just some guy at the bar who's trying to pick me up.”

“I finally found our friend,” Papo said. “Look up. See us at the slots?”

Melanie looked across the casino floor to where the slot machines were blinking and flashing, and spotted them sitting together at one. “Yes. I'll be right there.”

She hung up. “Sorry, I have to work now. Enjoy your stay in Las Vegas. Be careful who you hit on, though. Not everybody's as nice as me.”

And she walked away feeling not that she'd won, but that she'd been lucky to make a narrow escape.

 

M
elanie walked over to the slot machine next to the one where Papo and the informant were sitting, put a chip in the slot, and pushed the button. The clanging noises that emerged were distraction enough to cover up anything they had to say. The informant was short and beefy, with slicked-back hair, dressed all in black, and he went by Gordo el Tercero. That wasn't a name; it just meant he was the third fat guy to join his crew. Either Gordo was really nervous or else he'd done a few lines of coke before the meet—or both—because his body jiggled incessantly as they spoke.

“Ms. Vargas is the prosecutor,” Papo said by way of introduction. “Tell her what you just told me about Vegas Bo.”

“Like I'm saying to your friend here,” Gordo began, “Bo show up in Vegas six months ago. He got a major connect and he tell everybody he gonna bring in killer product. Nobody want to deal with him, though.
Los mexicanos
got their own sources. They don't want to give Bo a piece of their action. So he move in real shakedownlike, try to take over all the spots.”

“Now, how do you know this?” Melanie asked.

“How I know?”

“Yes. Were you part of a crew that had dealings with him? Is this
a rumor you heard on the street? I need to be able to evaluate the information.”

Gordo looked at them with disdain.

“Alejandro tell me I don't have to go into none of my own shit wi' you. That I don't need to give myself up on nothing. I don't know you people from nobody. I'm just here because Alejandro say show up.”

Papo held up his hands placatingly. “Yeah, yeah, we're cool, Gordo. Keep going.”

“Uh, no we're not. Wait a minute,” Melanie said.

Melanie pulled Papo aside.

“I need to hear his answer,” she said.

“I don't think he's gonna tell us. It sounds like Alejandro limited the deal to just the 411 on Vegas Bo's location.”

“Where
is
Alejandro?” Melanie asked Papo. “He limits my debriefing of the informant and doesn't show up to deal with the consequences?”

“I don't know where he is, but Gordo belongs to him. He's doing us a favor by allowing us talk to the guy at all. So let's just get the information and get the hell out of here.”

“How can we tell if there's anything to what Gordo's saying if we don't know the first thing about him? Do you have the first clue what his criminal history is?”

Papo grinned. “I'm confident it's substantial. Alejandro thinks he's reliable. Besides, from the looks of the guy, he's not gonna stick around much longer. Either we go with the flow or we let the tip walk. I say take the information.”

“What's up with how antsy he is?”

Papo shrugged.

“All right,” Melanie said with a sigh. “We take the information.”

They went back to the slot machine.

“Gordo, we're willing to let the questions about your background
slide,” Melanie said. “Just tell us what you know about Vegas Bo.”

“Like I said, he was muscling in. The bullets start to fly. The heat come down. What I hear, he got a tip he gonna be raided and he change up his location.”

“He knew he was being watched?” Melanie repeated.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Was that just because he saw the surveillance vehicles?”

“No. What I heard, he tipped off.”

“Huh, really. So, do you know where he went?”

“Yes, ma'am. A different trailer in Pahrump. I got the addy right here in my phone. If you go there now, maybe you can get the jump on him.”

B
y six
A.M
. the next day
, Melanie and Papo were in a G-car heading out of town on the main drag, Agents Smithson and Morales following close behind. The emerging sun was beginning to soften the neon that had carried the graffiti'd strip malls and gas stations equipped with twenty-four-hour slot machines through another rough night. They were driving toward the west, where the mountains glistened salmon pink and promised a fresh start.

Melanie rubbed the sleep from her eyes and reached for the venti Starbucks in her cup holder.

“If you were tired, you should've slept in,” Papo said from behind the wheel. “This is just a drive-by to do some reconnaissance on that scumbag informant's tip. It could be a bust. We may not find Bo at all. You could've grabbed some downtime.”

“And sit by the pool on the government's dime?”

He smiled. “You're such a stickler. How much overtime have you pulled this month without pay?”

“I'd rather get it done, Papo. Who knows, maybe Bo will be there,
and maybe he's ready to talk. He'll be much more likely to flip if the prosecutor comes along to explain the benefits of cooperation.”

“Your call.”

They stopped at a red light. Some bikers in black leather pulled up beside them, gunning their engines. Papo looked over and motioned like he was tipping his hat. The light turned green and the bikers took off zooming. It was written plain on Papo's face that he wished he was riding off with them instead of going out to some godforsaken desert town to check out a dead end.

“Did Alejandro say why he never showed up to the meet last night?” Melanie asked.

Papo shrugged, his hands on the wheel. “
Negocios.
Something came up on another case, I think. These guys are good, though, really. Now that I've met 'em, I take back everything I ever said against 'em.”

“Yeah, I agree.”

They fell silent, and Melanie took another swig of coffee. Caffeine always helped.

“Hey, you know last night when Gordo told us Vegas Bo got tipped off?” Melanie asked.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think he was telling the truth?” she asked.

“I believe that Bo said it. Was Bo telling the truth or just yapping, though? Hard to say. Making surveillance is one thing. Tells people you're not dumb. But having an insider who can tip you off is a whole different level. Sometimes guys'll say that to up their street cred.”

“Hmm.”

They were winding through brick-red mountains now, and Melanie got distracted by the scenery. Strange vegetation spotted the landscape. The plants weren't exactly what you'd call cactus, more like malformed little stumps and burned embers masquerading as trees.
The color of the earth was unlike anything she'd imagined existed outside the planet Mars. Spectacular, yet it had an eerie quality. She couldn't help wondering what would happen to someone who got lost out here alone.

Papo's phone, sitting on the console between them, began to vibrate. He picked it up and looked at the display.

“The wife,” he said, flipping it open. “Hey, babe, what's up?”

He talked to her for several minutes about something having to do with one of his kids and school.

“Sorry about that,” he said, hanging up.

“Not a problem. Everything okay?”

He waved her off. “No biggie, just teenagers. You have no idea what you're in for. How old's yours again?” Papo asked.

“Two. She's a riot.”

“Enjoy it. Once puberty hits, you'd think they got captured by pod people. I deserve it, though. All the grief I gave my mother when I was that age.”

“Yet look at you now.”

“Yeah, living life on the straight and narrow.” Papo looked out at the landscape and smiled. “I can't complain.”