Chapter Twelve
Jagger
I went to the office after dropping Bailey at the airport. My heart was heavy as hell, but I was holding out hope for my wish to come true. I wanted the man I loved to come back to me, safe and sound. Was that too much to ask?
The day ahead of me was a fucking burden, especially knowing Bailey wouldn’t be there when I finished work for the day. It was, however, better than stewing in an empty house with nothing to do. Fitz’s truck was parked in the lot, so I went inside and found him at his desk across from mine.
“Hey, Fitz. How was San Diego?”
Fitz glanced up and shrugged. “We barely got there before Sparky called us back. We had a bead on that asshole, I swear. Sparky called for Monty to come back—something about Florida and an old case of his? I’m just glad to be home.
I thought you were taking a few days off to go to Carson City with Bailey. ”
I took a deep breath, wishing I were in Carson City right now. “He needed to go alone. It’s a family issue.”
I hoped that was what it was. I didn’t want to think Bailey didn’t want me along because he was sick of me.
“Gotcha. Anyway, there are a few bail checks we need to make today. Sparky and Monty went to CCDC to bail out a DUI who was arraigned this morning. Sparky almost didn’t agree to it—the bail was set at a hundred grand because the guy crashed at Sands and East Desert Inn, taking out a bus stop.
He killed one and severely injured two people.
We all know Sparky doesn’t like bailing out idiots. Maria Ramirez was the perfect example.”
“Shit. That sucks. Did he mention that Maria Ramirez killed herself?” Her suicide was still bothering me.
If Maria had a death wish, shouldn’t her aunt have picked up on it while Maria was living with her? Bailey and I hadn’t stuck around to find out what the aunt had to say because it was out of our purview, but the cop in me wondered if there was more to it.
“Sparky didn’t say anything about it. Does Monty know?” Fitz shook his head the way anyone with an ounce of compassion would do upon learning of the useless death of a young mother.
“Not sure. He probably does by now. Anyway, where are we going?” I grabbed my mace and my Taser from my desk and went to the kitchen to find a travel mug.
When I returned with coffee to go, Fitz was standing by Denise’s desk with a few files in his hands. “These three have court dates on Monday. Sparky said to see if they’re around and give them a friendly reminder of their obligation.”
He handed me the folders, and I glanced through them, finding that one of our stops was in Boulder City. Jean, Nevada, wasn’t but twenty minutes from there.
“Let’s save the stop in Boulder City for last. I wanna take a ride out to the Ramirez place to check on Maria’s son and aunt. Something’s not gelling for me.”
Fitz nodded before we headed out. Our first stop was in North Las Vegas for a guy who got caught getting a blowjob from a sex worker behind a parked car on The Old Strip.
I knocked on the door and stepped back when a woman answered, striding out boldly.
“Hello, ma’am. Is Mike Kohmer around? He gave this address on his bail application.” I held out my identification and a copy of the paperwork.
The woman nodded. “He’s cleaning out the garage as his punishment because he did something stupid. Mike forgot he’s a grown man and acted as if he could behave any way he wanted. We’ve talked to him, as has our pastor. He’ll be in court on Monday, I promise. These young people today…”
The woman, whom I guessed was in her fifties, seemed very determined that Mike was going to have his ass in court, even if she had to force him there at gunpoint. That was good enough for me.
Stop two was in Spring Valley. Unfortunately, nobody was home at the address listed on the bail application. We left a business card between the door and the jamb with a note to call us. Fitz then called the guy’s lawyer and left a message with his assistant to be sure the guy showed up on Monday.
Our third stop, not far from my duplex, was in Boulder City at Caroline Hefter’s small house. Caroline got into a screaming fight with another woman at a bar who happened to be with Caroline’s ex-boyfriend.
Caroline was charged with being drunk and disorderly at a well-known bar on The Strip. It would probably be reduced to a misdemeanor. The fine and court costs with an alcohol-abuse class seemed likely to be her sentence. It could have been a lot worse.
Fitz chuckled as he turned to me. “You’re a surprise these days. You’re one of us?”
I glanced at Fitz to see the cocky smirk on his faced. “I’m a surprise? By one of us, I assume you mean gay. To be honest, I don’t remember ever being asked if I had a label. Was that supposed to be part of the interview?”
I was being a sarcastic bastard, but people would never cease to amaze me with their belief that they were entitled to any information about someone’s private life.
Fitz chuckled. “I believe it’s illegal to ask that question, but I’m just sayin’. You never tipped your hand that you’re a member of the rainbow family.”
“I didn’t realize it was a topic of concern.
Yes, I’m gay. I’ve kept my personal life to myself because my previous employers weren’t keen on having much diversity in the workforce, so it was better to keep one’s private life to oneself.
Does it bother you?” I didn’t think I was being particularly pissy about it, but his scowl told a different story.
“It’s not a concern for me. It’s just that I thought you looked down on those of us who had partners or spouses of the same sex. Sorry to ask.” Fitz didn’t say another word during the whole ride to Rita Ramirez’s place.
We parked on the street, and I walked the sidewalk to the front porch. Fitz waited in the yard, his hand on the butt of his firearm.
The door opened, revealing a small woman in a black dress with a worn expression. “May I help you?”
“Ms. Ramirez?” She nodded.
“I’m Jagger Hansen with Sparks Bail Bonds. That’s my colleague, Fitz Morgan. I just wanted to check on you and Ruiz. You have our deepest condolences for the loss of your niece.”
She dried a tear and spoke in English with a thick Spanish accent. “Ruiz is with his father, Pedro, now. He and Maria were in a custody battle, and with Maria getting arrested for shoplifting, she believed she’d lose custody of Ruiz.
“Pedro is a bad man, and Maria didn’t want him to have Ruiz. She didn’t want to live without her son because he was her world. Maria thought if she died, I could get custody of my great-nephew, but the lawyer told me that’s not how it works.”
It was plausible. “Did she say that in a note?” Why did I think I had any business asking?
Rita appeared confused for a moment, and since I didn’t speak Spanish, I didn’t know how to explain it any clearer. I glanced toward Fitz, who must have deemed it safe to come up on the porch.
Fitz fiddled with his phone before stepping closer and holding out the device to show her the screen. “?Había una nota de suicidio?” She read the words aloud and sighed. “Sí.”
Rita reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a sheet of paper, opening it and holding it toward me. It was written in Spanish, so I couldn’t read a word of it. It was a shame Bailey was gone because he spoke fluent Spanish. Maybe he could read it as well?
I pulled out my phone and took a picture of the note to get someone to translate it for me. “Did the police see that?” I pointed to the paper. She nodded, but I had to wonder why they hadn’t taken it from her as proof that Maria’s death was at her own hand.
“When did Pedro come to get Ruiz? Where does he live? What’s his last name?” I’d get Hardy to check the guy’s sheet.
“Vega. Pedro Vega. He lives in Los Angeles. He belongs to a gang. I never liked him, and I tried for so long to get Maria to come here, where I could keep her and Ruiz safe from the time he was born.” She then muttered something more in Spanish that I didn’t catch, not that I would have understood it in the first place.
I shrugged. I didn’t understand what she said or what she meant, so she held up a finger and hurried away, returning a moment later with a denim vest. On the back of it was a large serpent, coiled and wearing a crown with its forked red tongue and glowing red eyes prominently displayed.
Across the top of the image was a rocker: Viper Kings Los Angeles. Beneath the serpent was another rocker: Property of Vega.
So, Pedro Vega was a Viper King? And Maria Ramirez was his girlfriend? The drugs—where did they come from?
“Ms. Ramirez, the drugs Maria took. Do you know where she got them?”
She teared up again. “I don’t know. I don’t take any medications, and Maria didn’t either.”
My mind quickly rushed to a conclusion. Maria could easily have gotten the drugs from Pedro Vega. Maybe it was too much of an assumption, but I knew someone who could give me more information.
I reached into my wallet and grabbed a business card. “When you hear from the coroner regarding a cause of death, would you let me know?” I handed her the card, and she nodded.
“My fear is that Vega will take him back to Mexico but won’t give him to Maria’s parents. She would want him with her family, you see.”
Fitz and I shook her hand before going back to Fitz’s truck to head to the office.
My mind was rolling along a winding road that possibly led to a cliff.
Whether I’d drive over that cliff on my own or would be pushed, I didn’t know.
I hated to be doing it by myself, but Maria’s death made no sense to me.
There was something more I needed to find.
Sitting on a bench across from the Carson Building reminded me of the last time I was there—just a few days ago. Who knew it was long enough to fall in love with a man who was really a stranger? Maybe it was just me?
Fitz dropped me off at the office to get my truck, under the premise of running home to check on a leaky pipe. Of course my duplex was in the opposite direction of the Carson Building and my pipes were just fine.
The bell jingled over the door of Cate’s on Carson, a small restaurant that was famous for its baked goods. I glanced up from my glass of iced tea to see Detective Spitzer come through the door in all his tacky gumshoe glory.
He walked over to the table and sat without invitation. “Good afternoon, bail agent. How are things in the murky gray area where your type exists?”
Obviously, that was a dig at my profession. Fuck him. I’d done my time as a LEO. I’d probably been just as cocky as Spitzer.
“Just fine. How about you, Detective?”
Spitzer was chewing on a toothpick, which he took from his mouth and shoved in the breast pocket of his tacky sport coat. “I’m wondering why you’re sitting here across from the building where my snitch works?”
I laughed. “I’m here for a snack, Detective. According to Yelp!, Cate has the best homemade turnovers in town.” I pointed to half a cherry turnover I hadn’t finished.
Spitzer picked up the half a turnover and took a bite, the jackass. “Yeah, tastes good. So, why are you tailing my snitch?”
Fuck, I wasn’t cut out to be a covert operative any longer. I was too used to being a good guy. “I need information on the Viper Kings.”
“Okay. I know a lot about the Viper Kings. Ask away.” Spitzer cocked an eyebrow at me as if daring me to ask him something about an open investigation so he could shoot me down.
I wasn’t an amateur. I’d led investigations before. “Who is Pedro Vega?”
In a flash, his expression changed from cocky to curious. “Vega? Who told you about Vega?”
“What do you know about Vega?” I lifted my eyebrow to challenge him.
Spitzer lifted a finger to signal the server, who hurried over. “I’ll have a black coffee, and bring us another one of those, please. Add them to his check.” He pointed to me, the prick.
The young woman looked at me, and I nodded. I needed information from Spitzer, and if a pastry was what it took, I’d write it off.
After she walked away, I turned to Spitzer. “Sure. What can you tell me about Vega?”
“He’s a road captain for the Viper Kings. He’s an asshole, and he escorts drugs through checkpoints into California and destinations east. As far as we know, their reach is nationwide. Now, your turn.”
“Pedro Vega is the ex-partner of a woman my employer recently bailed out for shoplifting. I found her dead in her aunt’s home from a possible suicide, leaving her son unsupervised, which her aunt said she’d never do.
Ms. Ramirez said Maria would never leave her son because he was her whole world.
” I was aching for Spitzer to tell me something that would piss me off.
I pulled up the picture of her suicide note and showed it to him. “Ms. Ramirez said she showed the note to the police, but they left it with her. That makes no sense to me. It would serve to corroborate the cause of death as suicide, wouldn’t it?”
Spitzer stared at me for a moment before he placed both of his forearms on the table. “Yeah.”
I told him everything I observed that day when Bailey and I went to Jean to talk to Maria, and everything I remembered from my conversation with Deputy Garrett.
“We only got the bare minimum of information for the bail contract, and we had no red flags with her. I didn’t know her, but it seems odd that she took her own life.”
“Yeah, and she happens to be Pedro Vega’s wife? Yeah, something isn’t right. I’ll call the sheriff’s office down there and see if I can scare up Deputy Garrett.” Spitzer pulled out a pad and pen, writing down the deputy’s name.
He glanced at me as he put the pad back in his jacket.
“Do not go looking for Dirty Davey Vega, Jagger. Let the police handle this shit. He’s a known killer, but we’ve never caught the fucker.
LV Narcotics is trying to get a man inside, but we haven’t had any luck yet.
They know when we send in UCs, and the last two we tried came back barely alive. Don’t interfere in my investigation.”
His expression was dead serious, and I didn’t want to get in the middle of things. If I were still with NVHP, I’d sign onto a task force to offer my assistance, but that wasn’t the case. I was a civilian now and had a lot to live for. No way was I getting involved.