Chapter Fourteen
Jagger
Bailey was the second person to tell me not to get involved in the investigation of Maria Ramirez’s death, but something was gnawing at my gut. If Maria had planned to stay in the US, as her lawyer had asserted to get her another arraignment and bail, why would she kill herself?
Why did she shoplift an expensive handbag? Even if she could pawn it, she wouldn’t get the market price.
Sparky had called to say he, Monty, and Hardy were heading to Florida early since I wasn’t going to Carson City. Their neighbor was keeping an eye on their home and taking in the mail. He asked if I could pick up Dixie from the groomer on my way home. Of course I said yes.
I was in the office, so I went to Denise’s desk to ask for Maria’s file. “Hi, Denise. Um, do you have the file for Maria Ramirez? Monty bailed her out, and she missed her court date on Monday.”
“As a matter of fact, I do. Sparky asked me to put a deadline date in the tickler calendar to have heard from the sheriff’s office in Jean regarding her death so we can apply for a bail refund.” She reached into her inbox and handed me the file.
I took the thin manila folder and flipped it open to see the name and contact information for her attorney in Vegas. T.K. Springs at Crown and Associates.
When Denise turned to answer the phone, I took a quick picture of the information before handing the file back to her. “Thanks. I wanted to make a note for myself. I just needed the case number.”
“Sure. I’m on my way to pick up my lunch. Could you get the phones while I’m gone so I don’t have to forward them to my cell? I’m just going to the noodle place across the street. Would you like me to bring you anything?”
“I ate while I was at home, but thanks. I’ll get the phones. You can stay there and eat if you want. With Sparky, Monty, and Hardy gone, it’s going to be a quiet day. You should take advantage of it while you can.”
Denise grabbed her purse and walked toward the back door, so I sat down at the desk. Fitz was at his desk with an actual newspaper, boots kicked up on the corner and earbuds in his ears. It was better to go stir crazy at the office than at home.
I grabbed the file again and called the lawyer’s number listed on the bail application, without needing to refer to the picture I’d taken earlier. I didn’t want anyone to know I was doing some digging. I’d already been told not to pursue it…twice.
“Crown and Associates. How may I direct your call?”
“T.K. Springs, please. Tell him it’s in reference to Maria Ramirez’s bail. I’m Jagger Hansen, bail enforcement agent with Sparks Bail Bonds.”
“Hold, please.”
Cars were coming and going on South Rainbow Boulevard in front of our office, not many of them abiding by the speed limit. It was a typical hot September day in Sin City. Kids were back in school, a sure sign the year was marching toward its end.
“T.K. Springs.” It was a woman’s voice, which surprised me for no reason in particular.
“Ms. Springs, it’s Jagger Hansen from Sparks Bail Bonds. I’m calling about Maria Ramirez’s case. Do you have a minute to talk?”
She cleared her throat. “I just found out this morning that Ms. Ramirez is deceased. I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss her case. Attorney-client privilege extends postmortem under Nevada law.”
“Okay, uh, are you aware that Maria’s son was taken by his father, Pedro Vega, likely back to Mexico. Maria’s aunt, Rita, said she had no choice but to let Pedro take him. Were you representing Maria in the custody matter?”
It was easy to see that Ms. Springs was one to go by the letter of the law, though not the spirit if something nefarious had happened to Maria. When she was quiet for a moment, I could tell my information was new to her.
“Uh, Mr. Hansen, I’d prefer to have this conversation in person. Are you available for coffee? Say, five this afternoon. There’s a coffee shop near the Clark County Courthouse on South Casino. Will you meet me there?”
I’d expected a reminder that she couldn’t answer my questions, so the attorney offering to meet with me was an odd turn of events.
“Sure.”
She gave me the address, and we ended the call. I checked my watch to see that it was three o’clock. I needed to go pick up Dixie and take her to my place before five.
I walked over to Fitz’s desk and tapped his shoulder. He glanced up and pulled an earbud down, staring at me.
“I need to run to pick up Dixie at the groomers. Will you answer the phones until I get back?”
“Sure. Where’s Denise?” Fitz lowered his feet and folded his paper.
“She’s at lunch. She should be back to lock up the office at the end of the day.
I’ve got an appointment downtown at five, and I need to take Dixie to my house first. I’m watching her while Sparky, Monty, and Hardy are in Florida.
I’ll drop by and check on things here before I go downtown.
If you get a call from CCDC for bail, call me. I’ll break my appointment.”
“Nah. Go on. I’ll be here until Sawyer gets off at six, so run your errands. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll explain it to you after I have more information.” I intended to do that very thing after talking with Ms. Springs. It wasn’t like I had a lot going on.
“Dixie, girl, welcome to my home. You hang out here for a while, and I’ll be back.”
I picked her up at the groomer and took her for a walk in my neighborhood after figuring out how to get those bootie things on her feet. The sidewalks were literally hot enough to fry an egg. Her paws would blister without them, and I didn’t want to be blamed.
It was ninety-nine degrees outside, and there was no wind to flutter the palms lining South Sorrel Road. Even I had caved and turned on the air conditioning in the truck—not for me, but for Dixie.
No doubt in my mind that if my nieces and nephew knew I had Dixie at the house, they’d make Rob and Kaleb bring them to Vegas, even though my brothers and I weren’t close.
I’d love to see them again, but that old fear in my gut had me keeping my distance.
I couldn’t stand to hear them say they never wanted me around their kids.
“Here’s your water. I’ll get your dinner when I get back. Hold down the fort.”
I walked into the living room where I’d set up her bed and turned on the television, lowering the volume to cover up neighborhood noises that might freak her out.
Sparky had left a basket with the necessities for her to be comfortable at the groomers for me, along with a detailed list of instructions that Hardy must have typed out.
One of the entries was Loves to cuddle. I was grateful they’d thought about it, but I didn’t see myself cuddling with Dixie, though I’d cuddle with Bailey, who would probably cuddle with Dixie.
Once I was sure Dixie was settled, I headed out. The traffic gods were on my side, so I got to the downtown area much faster than I anticipated.
The coffee and juice café, Lucky’s Spot, was next to an open-air parking lot that had several spots available, so I pulled in, paid for parking on my phone, and headed to Lucky’s.
I saw a familiar face heading into the café ahead of me, so I hung back a bit, letting two customers go ahead of me so I could get a better look at everyone inside without being noticed.
When the man ordered his drink and gave his name, it wasn’t Boyd for sure.
The fading bruises told me the guy had to be Danny Bolls.
Damn, the guy looks exactly like Boyd Newton.
I could see how it would be hard to tell them apart, which was what Bailey kept saying. I told myself I’d text him later. If it was somewhere Bolls frequented, it would be a good place for us to find him when Bailey came back to town.
“Are you Jagger Hansen?” I turned to my left to see a tall, slender woman with bright-red hair.
“I am. How’d you know?”
She smiled. “I looked you up.”
I should have done the same. “I’ll get the drinks. What’ll you have?”
“Matcha latte, please. I’ll find us a table.”
I nodded as the line moved. When Danny Bolls left without noticing me, he turned toward Glory Hole Studios. I had to wonder if it was just a coincidence—or was I becoming paranoid?
I got our coffees and carried them to the table in the back of the café, where the lawyer had chosen to sit. I put her drink in front of her and took the chair facing the room, thankfully. I was too used to facing the room.
“Thank you. I’m sorry I checked you out, but I’m not accustomed to meeting with bail bond agents. I received a call from the court today confirming that my client had passed away. Attorney-client privilege survives death, Mr. Hansen,” she reminded.
I nodded. I wasn’t stupid after all.
Ms. Springs studied me for a minute before she spoke. “Honestly, all I can tell you is that if you check Pedro Vega’s criminal history, you’ll see that he received a temporary restraining order by service two months ago.
“He wasn’t allowed to have contact with my client, nor her minor son. If he did, as you suggested, take custody of the child, I need to contact Ruiz’s court-appointed advocate and the sheriff’s office.” She took a sip of her coffee while I stared out the front window, mulling over the information.
If he took Ruiz against court orders, the chances he’d give the boy back were slim to none, especially since Maria wasn’t there to fight for her son. If her parents were still in Mexico, would Pedro give the boy to her mother and father to raise?
“Do you know anything about Vega that you can tell me? Maria’s Aunt Rita showed me a vest of Maria’s that had patches indicating she was a member of the Viper Kings, or however they perceive the partners of their club members. Did Maria mention it?”
“I can’t say.” She did, however, nod. At least she knew that much.
“Can you tell me if Maria gave birth to Ruiz in the States?” It was worth a shot.
She smirked and put her manicured index finger on the tip of her nose while she winked at me. That meant Ruiz was a US citizen, and Pedro taking him from Rita Ramirez was kidnapping. If he took the boy to Mexico, it was an international issue that should get the federal authorities involved.
“Parental abduction is a serious crime. I know someone at the Center for Missing and Exploited Children if you need a name.” I raised an eyebrow at her.
She smirked. “Mr. Hansen, I have a few contacts of my own, along with a friend at the DEA who would like to get his hands on a Viper King. Are you going to try to find Pedro Vega?”
I exhaled. “People have told me to let it go. It’s just that the things I’ve learned from Rita about Maria don’t give me the impression she’s a hardened criminal.
For instance, why did she steal a two-thousand-dollar Chimi handbag from one of the Miracle Mile Shops? What was she going to do with it?”
“Hypothetically, what if it wasn’t the purse but what might be inside the purse?” She reached for her coffee cup and took another sip.
“Where is the purse?”
“I’m guessing it’s in LVPD’s evidence locker.” She finished her drink and stood from her chair.
“I need to leave. I have guests from out of town. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Hansen. If you find anything productive that might help get Ruiz back to his grandparents in Juarez, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”
I finished my coffee and followed her out. It was just before six, and I had a dog to get home to, which was a new thing. I wished I had a man and a dog to get home to, but hopefully, that would happen soon enough.
I needed to reach out to Spitzer and ask him if he had a friend who worked in LVPD’s evidence locker who would let him look at the Chimi handbag that had been stolen by Maria. Maybe it was tacky, but it was something to consider.