by Pete David
I called Burns and gave him the details about Sarah and her possible connection to Marconi. I convinced Burns to issue an all-points-bulletin to cover APD and the County Sheriff’s Department. He promised to send a pair of uniforms to Marconi’s house to see if Sarah was there. APD had wanted to bust Marconi for years. I offered to help make it a reality.
Burns called back a half-hour later as I arrived at Freddie’s house. There had been no answer at Marconi’s house, so Burns assigned two cops for surveillance. I parked a couple of blocks down from Freddie’s place and walked back to wait. His perimeter fence was easy to scale and I hid behind a large boulder across from his front door. An hour later at about 1:00 a.m., a car approached and headlights swung across the driveway.
I peeked out and saw Freddie exit the car to open the gate. He pulled his car up to the garage. I followed along the fence in the shadows away from the floodlights on the side of the house. The garage door opened automatically at the approach of the car. I crouched by the outside wall of the garage and slipped into the vacant second car spot as Freddie’s BMW entered. The garage door closed. Freddie was alone.
As Freddie exited the car, I slid around the car and pinned his slim, tall body between the door and the car.
He jumped. “Jesus Christ. You scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m going to do worse if you don’t tell me what I want to know, you scumbag.” I pressed harder on the door.
“She called me. Wanted to score some coke. That’s it, man.”
“So, you sent her to Marconi.”
“Yeah. It’s where I get my stuff.”
“He’s the one who sold her to a prostitution ring, you asshole.”
“I know. I told him to treat her well or I wasn’t going to purchase any more merchandise from him.”
“Yeah, right Freddie. You’re a saint. Better hope nothing bad happens to her. The cops are involved and I’m giving them your name as an accomplice.” The overhead garage light had switched off and the car’s interior light provided the only illumination. “Open the garage door.”
“I can’t reach the remote from here. It’s in the glove compartment.”
“Is there another one?” I pushed harder on the door.
“There’s a switch on the wall by the door.”
“I want you to very slowly reach into the glove compartment when I release pressure on the door.” I pulled out my gun and started to step back away from the car. Suddenly, he lunged forward into the door and knocked me backwards against the garage wall. I grabbed at the wall to catch my balance and briefly grasped a large implement before it gave way. I crashed to the cement floor just behind my loose gun.
In the dim light from the car’s interior, I saw Freddie grab a shovel off the wall. He raised it and approached. The car light went out and the garage was plunged in darkness. I rolled and pressed my body under the edge of the car door as a shovel banged into the floor next to my head. Freddie panted above me. I used the car door as leverage against my shoulder and whipped my legs to where Freddie had been standing. I hit him solidly in the back of the legs and felt them buckle. I pitched my whole body around along the floor and swung my legs again. I caught his feet and knocked him further off balance. He fell on his back to the floor and cursed. I headed straight for a small orange emergency light at the base of the door to the house, kicking my gun in the same direction. I pushed in the switch next to the door. The overhead light came on and the garage door opened. Freddie advanced with the shovel in his hands. I reached down to grab my gun off the floor and pointed it at his head. He stopped.
“Really stupid Freddie. Drop the shovel or I’ll kill you.”
“You’re an intruder in my house.”
“Go ahead. Call the cops. I have plenty to tell them about you.”
He stepped forward, the shovel held menacingly above his head. “It’ll be my word against yours. You broke into my house with a gun.”
“What difference will it make if you’re dead?” I aimed at a spot between his eyes.
He stopped, lowering the shovel. “I just want you off my back.”
“I don’t want anything to do with you, but the girl’s safety is important to me. Look, neither of us is hurt. We can just go our separate ways. Now, drop the shovel.”
He turned to the wall and hung the shovel on a large hook. “And the cops?”
“If I find her and she’s safe, I won’t pursue charges against you for having sex with or distributing cocaine to a minor. As for the cops, you’ll have to take your chances with them. Now raise your arms and back slowly out of the garage.”
Freddie retreated to stand just beyond the garage door.
“Hold it.” My gun was still pointed at his head. “Drop to your stomach, head towards the garage.” He complied. With my gun pressed into the small of his back, I patted him down and removed a short knife strapped to his calf. I flung the weapon onto the garage roof.
With my gun still pointed in Freddie’s direction, I edged backward, scaled the fence, and returned to my car. I pulled out with a glance back to Freddie’s house and started making calls. Neither Frank nor Barb had heard from Sarah. Burns said Marconi hadn’t returned to his house, and he didn’t answer his phone. I returned to Low Spirits to find the doors locked. Tired, frustrated, and out of options, I drove home at 2:00 a.m. to catch some troubled sleep.
…
The ringing phone woke me at 5:08 a.m., according to my clock radio. The tone in Detective Burns’ gruff voice chilled me to attention. Most of the details raced past. I didn’t want to believe. Sarah Minor was dead. With an aching heart, I picked up enough to piece the story together: drug overdose, her body found on the mesa.
Burns said he’d notified the father. I mumbled my thanks and hung up. With sleep out of the question, I stumbled into the living room and poured a fistful of Jack Daniels in to a glass, chased with a glass of orange juice as if that would make it easier to justify a breakfast cocktail.
The ring of my cell phone in the bedroom brought me out of my trance. I raced to it, hoping it was Jesse, only to hear the masculine voice of Frank Minor.
“Arch, I guess you got the bad news?”
“Yes, Frank. I’m so sorry. If only I could have found her first.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. You did what you could to save her and we’re all grateful…” His voice cracked. “I need to go.”
“I understand. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“Thanks.”
With the phone still in my hand, I dialed Jesse’s number. Her voicemail prompted me to leave a message.
“Jesse. I’m so sorry. Please call me if you need company or want to talk. Call anytime. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.” I disconnected, my voice sounded hollow and desperate.
Chapter 31
Determined to build a case against Marconi and link him to cocaine and human trafficking, I checked the online Bernalillo County records for a list of women busted over the last month. I took the names to the central records office downtown where I compiled a list of blonde Caucasian females booked on soliciting and cocaine possession.
That night, I cruised along Central Avenue near the Albuquerque Fairgrounds scouting for blonde prostitutes. Hookers were scarce, those visible didn’t match my target profile.
My search shifted to 4th Street north of downtown and closer to Low Spirits, Marconi’s hangout. Several recent arrests had occurred in this neighborhood. After driving up and down 4th Street, I saw a short, thin-framed, curly-haired blonde wearing short-shorts and a white halter top. She walked with a slightly unsteady gait, a movement suggesting a drug habit. I pulled the car up alongside her. She hesitated before acknowledging my presence. She checked around suspiciously before slowly walking over to the car to stick her head in the open window.
“Hi handsome. What can I do for you?”
“Can you get in the car? I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable sitting here with you leaning
in to the car window.” I shifted in my seat for emphasis.
“Okay babe, but it will cost you twenty just for me to get in the car.” Her speech was slurred, her eyes distant. I handed her a twenty dollar bill. She inspected it as if considering whether it might be a fake before stuffing it in her tight denim shorts. She removed her small backpack and slid in. The odor of cheap perfume made my head buzz. I opened another window to get fresh air circulating inside. I didn’t see any obvious signs of cocaine or crack use. Her heightened anxiety could have been just an occupational condition.
She smiled and turned in response to my attention focused on her. “You can pull into the parking lot of the Lobo Motel. The cops rarely raid the place.”
“Hopefully tonight won’t be the exception.” At my hesitation, she robotically delivered the directions in short stuttered sentences. I drove around to the side of the motel to avoid the other handful of cars present. It must have been a slow night.
She spit out a wad of mint gum into a piece of paper from her pocket. She smiled “You’re pretty cute. You’re not a cop, are you?”
“No, I’m a lawyer.” Frank’s card rested in my shirt pocket in case she needed convincing. But I counted on her being too interested in the money to care who provided it.
“Cool.” She still eyed me suspiciously.
I grinned. “What’s your name?”
“Dawn, like the crack of dawn. For one hundred dollars I’ll let you experience it.”
“Pretty clever. But I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions.”
“What do you want me to call you?”
“You can call me Frank.”
“Sure, Frank. So you want a blow job for fifty dollars?”
“No. Actually I hoped you’d know where I could score some coke. I’ve got some high class clients coming into town and they like to party.”
She laughed. “How do you know I’m not a cop?”
I smiled “Because you just solicited me. Can you help me?”
She got serious again and shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“My clients might want some companionship.” I pulled out another twenty-dollar bill. “Could be a great business opportunity for you and a couple of your friends.”
She grabbed the bill. “Could be some party. You going to be there?”
“Of course. How can I reach you?”
“Through the motel here. Just ask for Butch. He’ll get in touch with me.”
“Great, but I still need some coke.”
“Yeah, you and me both.” She nodded towards the hotel. “Butch can hook you up.”
“Well, seems a bit too much business with Butch. Can you give me another supplier?”
She hesitated. “There’s a guy I know, sometimes he hangs out at Low Spirits.”
“He got a name?”
“He goes by Joey. But you want to be careful with him. You gotta pay him cash up front and he don’t mess around. But once he gets to know you everything is cool.”
“You’ve bought from him before?”
“Yeah, he’s pretty generous, if you know what I mean?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Well, once he gets to know you, he’ll give you some freebies just to keep you as a customer. And he lets you test the stuff out, just to make sure you’re getting what you pay for, you know? And some of us blonde girls exchange favors for a few hits.”
“He sounds like the guy I need to see.” Marconi liked blondes, supplied them with cocaine as special gifts, and if he found them attractive, traded drugs for sex. Circumstantial evidence for sure, but it could prove to be an important link.
I returned Dawn to her “corner” falsely promising to call when my clients arrived in town. She’d made an easy forty dollars and I had a potential witness against Marconi.
At Low Spirits the sound of loud rock music spilled into the street as I opened the door. The cover charge was eight bucks. The billiards room was empty. I searched the remainder of the bar. No sign of Marconi. The male bartender who served me a beer didn’t know Marconi. My adrenalin subsided without the prospect of the confrontation. Taking down Marconi would have to wait for another day.
Chapter 32
Sarah’s funeral occurred three days later on a rare overcast autumn day in New Mexico. The faces were different from Andy’s funeral, but they shared the sad expression of those grieving the loss of such a young life. I boiled with disappointment and frustration from being unable to protect her from the world’s evils or from herself. I offered my condolences to the family and hugged Jesse. She slumped in my arms with a soft sob, before pulling away. I resisted the temptation to hold on.
Barb came over and grasped my hands. “Thanks for what you did. We should have left her in the clinic longer.” Barb choked on the last few words. “When she called, Frank drove over and picked her up. She wanted to come home. How could we refuse her?” Tears mixed with mascara slid down her cheeks.
I placed an arm around her. “You couldn’t possibly have known.”
Barb dabbed at her eyes with some tissues. “You must find the man who is responsible for this.”
“I’m cooperating with the police and conducting my own investigation. Can I see your phone? I’d like to re-check those numbers and times of the calls Sarah made.” She hesitated, then removed it from her purse and handed it to me. I confirmed from the call history what she had told me on the phone. Both numbers had been called again at 4:15, after Sarah had left the house. I handed the phone back to Barb without mentioning the later calls.
After the funeral, I visited Burns in his office and gave him everything I had about Marconi, including my theory that he provided the cocaine that killed Sarah. I left out the part about Jesse’s involvement in helping me link Marconi to Junky. The abridged version of the story identified Freddy as the source of Marconi’s name and Marconi of selling the girl to Junky. Andy’s phone records revealed he had been in communication with Marconi, who must promised to provide information as to Sarah’s location.
Burns gave me an update on the discovery of Sarah’s body. On the morning after she disappeared, a group of hikers found her in the dry grass at the edge of the parking lot of Petroglyphs National Park. The coroner gave the time of death at approximately 9:00 p.m. and diagnosed the cause of death as an overdose of cocaine. Burns had also identified Marconi’s number from Barb’s phone.
Burns seemed satisfied with my explanation, especially since it appeared to wrap up his case, with Marconi as Andy’s murderer. He didn’t seem perturbed about my search for Marconi and seemed impressed by my apparent courage in confronting Junky. APD would pursue a warrant to search Marconi’s house and pick him up for questioning. They’d had his house under surveillance, but Marconi hadn’t returned.
“You have a history with this Junky character?” Burns tentatively probed into my past.
“Sure, back in L.A.”
“Well, I’m not one to pry into an innocent man’s personal business, but his involvement appears related to this case. What can you tell me about him?”
“He’s a tough one, and he’s protected, if you know what I mean.”
“I figured as much.” Burns nodded.
“I spent years trying to bust his ass. He’s got lucrative businesses. Prostitutes. Drugs.”
Burns leaned back in his chair. “And he’s paying off some cops. Maybe some other influential people too. You got caught in the middle.”
“Yeah, you can say that.” I confessed about my duplicitous actions to Jesse, but I wasn’t going to share that information with Burns. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it one day over a drink.”
“I’d like that.”
“I still can’t believe Andy would let down his guard.”
“Well, you knew him pretty well. What’s your theory?” Burns arched his eyebrows and leaned forward.
“Andy would have figured out a way to get Sarah back. Perhaps Marconi promised to help or mayb
e provide evidence against Junky.”
“So he let him in the house.”
“Right. Andy thought he had a witness to testify, and he might have been willing to let slide Marconi’s role in the trafficking in exchange for knowing Sarah’s location, and a chance of winning the bigger prize, Junky. Andy alluded to me that he had some promising leads.” Of course, the story I provided Burns didn’t include my suspicion that something more sinister had transpired. I guessed that Marconi promised to provide evidence that corroborated the material Andy had in the lock box. Marconi, worried about Junky’s revenge, figured knocking off Andy would close the loop. Marconi’s interrogation would help clarify his motive.
Burns picked up on my story. “So Sarah, wanting a fix, calls Marconi. He supplied the coke and didn’t count on her OD.”
“Sure. Maybe she told him I bought her from Junky. So he figures why not make a friend and another reliable customer.”
“Does she have money to buy drugs?”
“Her mother told me she didn’t find any money missing. So without cash, I’m guessing Sarah offered Marconi sex in exchange for the drugs. Marconi’s got a thing for young blondes.”
Burns exhaled. “The coroner didn’t find any signs of intercourse.”
“I figured that. Marconi’s not stupid. He would have known his DNA could be recovered from her corpse. If he had sex with her, he would have disposed of the body to destroy the evidence. My guess is she overdosed before fulfilling her obligation.” It still didn’t explain the negligent discarding of her body in such a public place. I shivered at the image of his goons dumping her frail body from the bed of a pick-up truck.
Which gets back to Marconi’s two accomplices. They would have been aware of Marconi’s strange encounter with me posing as a husband trying to unload his drugged mistress. Despite my disguise, they might provide enough of a description to lead APD back to me, especially if Marconi had described my reaction when he mentioned Junky.
I hoped Marconi’s stooges would have enough sense to get lost when he got picked up. They never saw Jesse, but knew of her presence in the vehicle, rented with my credit card. If they could provide a description of the vehicle, the detectives could make another connection to me, and eventually to Jesse. No, Burns didn’t need to know about their involvement. If they came forward later, I would have to figure out how to keep Jesse’s identity secret.