Authors: Teri Riggs
“I think not. We’ll give Narcotics a call and they can pick Willy up if they want him. I’ve got what I need.” She glared at him. “Isn’t that right, Willy?”
“I gave you the address and phone number.”
“And I appreciate your cooperation. God help you if you lied to me.” Kennedy folded the scrap of paper and pushed it into her own pocket. “I’m finished here, Wilder. You got anything else?”
“I’m good. Let’s rock and roll.”
Wilder
started the Crown Victoria and turned the air-conditioner on max as soon as they got in the car. Kennedy pulled out her cell phone and verified Willy’s story.
“We can mark Willy off of our
li
st
.
He was partying the night away in Pahrump just like he claimed.” She dialed narcotics and explained quickly, giving them Willy’s address.
“You still turned him in to Narcotics?”
“I did. He shouldn’t be slapping women around. It pisses me off.” “Agreed. Next on the list?”
Her eyes scanned the paper. “The two ex-cons.”
“They’re going to be a little harder to track down.”
“One of them has a BOLO out on him. He failed to report to his PO yesterday. The other is staying at his mom’s house on Dixon Street, just off of Eads. Let’s visit him
fir
st
.
Timothy Jenkins, 33 Dixon Street.”
“Any other names coming up?”
“Not yet. But Meeks will keep looking.”
Kennedy’s cell phone cranked out Another One Bites The
Du
st
.
“O’Brien.” She listened intently. “Okay, thanks.”
Wilder looked at Kennedy. “Well?”
“That was Sparks. We can mark Peterson off our li
st
His body was just found in an abandoned building off of Paradise Road. Looks like he hanged himself. The ME says he’s at least seventy-six hours ripe. That makes him dead before our vic’s TOD.”
“The ME sure he killed himself?”
“Looks like. He robbed a convenience store on Paradise Road and when he realized he was caught on video, he flipped out. I guess he decided he wasn’t going back to prison. Took the easy way out.”
“Well, I guess that explains why he didn’t check in with his PO yesterday.”
“Sparks say Miss Trixy came in and made her formal statement. Nothing changed from last night’s interview.”
The
cracker-box houses on Dixon Street were all the same size and shape, only the colors were different. Number 33 was a pale blue.
Kennedy looked around after they knocked on the door. “Looks like a big, square robin’s egg.”
“It can’t get any bluer can it?”
“Yes?” A frail, graying woman opened the door.
“Mrs. Jenkins?” The woman nodded. Kennedy and Wilder flashed their badges. “Ma’am, we need to speak to Timothy for a moment, if he’s in.”
“Let me go get Timothy. He’ll be so happy to see he has visitors.”
“Mrs. Jenkins,” Wilder said. “This isn’t a social call.”
“Oh, I realize that, Detective, but my son’s been very lonely since his car wreck last week. I don’t think he’ll care why you’re here.”
Kennedy looked at her partner. “Car wreck?” She whispered. They shrugged their shoulders at the same time.
Mrs. Jenkins disappeared down a short hallway and returned a few minutes later pushing a wheelchair. The wheelchair was at maximum capacity with an overweight man in a dirty white wife beater and ragged shorts slouched in it, a can of cola in one hand, and a bag of crunchy cheese curls in the other. His neck was in a cervical collar.
Both legs were covered in thigh-to-toe casts.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
NICOLAS CAMPENELLI ADMIRED THE VIEW BEYOND THE LARGE MAHOGANY DESK.
His office was located on the North Strip, the oldest segment of the Las Vegas Strip, but new money was being pumped into the area at record speed. His new, fifty-five story office building sat surrounded by three of Las Vegas’ great hotels.
On the north side stood the sleek, fifty stories high Wynn Las Vegas. The upscale Venetian Hotel, standing on the spot where the old Sands casino had once stood, was located to the south. Across the street stood the TI Hotel, formerly known as Treasure Island.
Nick’s attention flipped back to the outline of the speech he would be giving at the League of Women Voters dinner on Wednesday night. Most of the speech had been written the previous evening. Now, he was just fine tuning it.
Nick was prepared to defend his plans for the city and his ideas on legalizing prostitution in Vegas. He’d spent hours outlining a plan to lessen the high crime rate Las Vegas had become famous for over the last few years.
Nick’s strongest opponent, Louis
St. Louis
, had given his speech to the same group of women the week before. Nick and
St. Louis
both agreed crime rates were spiraling out of control, especially around the Hooker Haven area. But that was the extent of their agreement.
St. Louis
believed any form of prostitution was the root of all evil and should be totally shut down in all of Nevada. Destroyed. Annihilated. Whatever it took. The man honestly believed he could stop prostitution and all that ailed Las Vegas would be magically fixed.
Nick smiled at the thought. What next? Abolish gambling? Outlaw liquor? Another Prohibition?
Nick knew better. Sex was a cash cow in Vegas and had been since Bugsy Siegel built the first hotel and casino in the middle of nowhere. No one making money off of the sex trade, legal or otherwise, was going to give it up without a damned good fight.
Nick studied the outline of his speech, running a finger down the carefully thought out notes. He read out loud to himself. “It’s essential for the city to beef up the Metro PD in order to curtail the surge in crime rates. Vegas has about three quarters of the police officers it needs to patrol the city properly. Even good cops can only be stretched so far.
“Sheriff Taylor and I have discussed this problem many times and he agrees with my assessment of too few bodies in uniform. Our rapidly growing city desperately needs more police officers.
“Furthermore, the laws governing the prostitution business need to undergo major revisions. Picture if you will, an imaginary line running right down the center of Washington Street. On one side of this line, the Nye County side, prostitution is legal. On the other, the Clark County-slash-Vegas side, it isn’t. Statistics show this Hooker Haven area of Washington Street is our biggest problem area. Still, business is booming on both sides.” Blah, blah, blah. He skimmed to the next page.
Ah, yes, a point the women will appreciate. “Health issues are another big concern for our citizens. Under legalized prostitution, all sex workers will be required to take monthly tests for HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases in order to keep their licenses. Condoms will be mandatory and fines for noncompliance will be high.”
Nick stood and paced to one side of his desk and back, holding his notes out in front of him in one hand. He rubbed the back of his neck with the other.
“Pimping and all its associated problems will be better controlled. The prostitutes will be paying taxes, and licensing fees will be required from all independent prostitutes as well as the brothels that open as a result of legalization.
“Continual fighting for control of the illegal business is another big problem we’re facing. Gangs commonly battle each other, and it’s even been rumored the mob is joining the fight. Out-of-state crime families are already knee deep in the online sale of prostitutes advertised as escort services. This struggle for power stretches the already overworked police department to the limit.”
The Vegas phone book alone had over one hundred and forty pages of escort listings in the entertainment section.
He poured a glass of water and took a long drink as he sat back down.
“Metro PD and the Nye County Sheriff’s Department share the demanding job of patrolling the Washington Street area, but only Nye County collects the tax dollars earned from legalized prostitution. Prostitution that takes place on both sides of the street. I think it’s time Las Vegas receives its fair share of that money.”
A knock on Nick’s office door interrupted him. He set aside his notes. “Come in.”
Marti, his administrative assistant, entered. “Mr. C, I thought you might like a fresh cup of coffee to get you through putting the final touches on your speech.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.” He took the steaming mug.
“I went to one of Mr.
St. Louis
’ speeches last night and I tell you, Mr. C, that man is very, very scary. Were you really friends with him once upon a time?”
“Have a seat, Marti.” Nick pointed to a chair, happy to take a break from his speech. “Louis and I grew up together in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Las Vegas. He’s two years older than me, but at one time we were the best of friends. Neither one of us had much. We wore hand-me-down clothes and knew what it was like to go to bed hungry.”
Nick took a drink of his coffee. “Still, as long as we stuck together, things never seemed so bad. Then, during my first year of junior high school, Louis’s dad died and he and his mom moved away. I didn’t see him again until he moved back to Vegas two years ago.”
“He must have changed big time after he left. He sure doesn’t seem to have much in common with you now.”
“You’re right. Louis is a total stranger now. He’s bitter and he loathes anyone who doesn’t agree with his religious or political views. Louis is especially sour toward the city’s prostitutes. He’s nothing like the boy I used to know.”
Of course Nick had changed too. He’d gone from being a teenaged hoodlum on the streets to becoming a well respected, thirty-five-year-old businessman. It seemed every venture he took on made him money. Unlike Louis, Nick had changed for the better.
“I don’t know what happened to the happy-go-lucky kid Louis used to be.” He leaned back in his chair and took another drink. “A traumatic experience maybe? Now he’s all fire and brimstone. If Louis wins the election, I’m afraid many of the city’s people will fight against the strict limits that will undoubtedly be placed on them. Vegas could erupt in violence unmatched since the days of prohibition.”
Marti shook her head. “I knew the man was strange.”
He nodded and let his eyes drift to the sights outside his window. “The last time I went to a political event where Louis was speaking and listened to him outline his plan to rid the city of undesirables, he suggested using any method to shut down prostitution. I don’t believe he’d think twice about the use of force, creating an all-out witch hunt.”
“That’s exactly the way I felt when I listened to him speak.” Marti stood up to leave. “I’m sorry your friend changed so much over the years. Hopefully the voters realize what kind of man he is. He’d be dangerous in public office.”
“I take it you won’t be voting for Louis.”
“I wouldn’t vote for Mr.
St. Louis
if he was running for dog catcher.”
Leave it to Marti to say exactly what was she was thinking. He couldn’t hold back his smile. “There’s always our current mayor.”
“Mayor Hildicam needs to retire and enjoy his golden years. There’s only one really strong contender and that’s you, Mr. C.”
“Thanks. I think.” Nick laughed.
With a wave of her hand, Marti left Nick alone and closed his door.
The polls showed Louis and Nick were in a neck and neck race. He knew he needed to win over the League of Women Voters. Because of his stand on prostitution, it would be a hard group to gain support from. As a rule, women weren’t fond of hookers hanging around their city street corners. They sure as hell won’t be eager to legalize it. Nick would have to go for the stop-the-violence sales pitch.
Drugs, murder, and organized crime were probably the only dirty deeds women disliked more than prostitution. And what woman in her right mind wouldn’t love to have more policemen on the streets protecting her and her children?
Marti stuck her head in his door.
“Mr. C, there’s a news team from LVTVS here wanting to interview you about that prostitute’s murder last night. They’re doing a piece about how the front runners in the race for mayor would handle the problems prostitution seems to create.”
“Is Ed Hershey with the camera team?” Nick asked. “I can’t stomach that blow-dried, Tom Brokaw-wannabe right now.”
She looked back over one shoulder. “No, I don’t see him.”
After a moment of self-debate, Nick answered, “Sure. Give me a couple minutes, and then send them into my office.”
“Bob
Gilder. Thanks for seeing us, Mr. Campenelli. We’d like your comments on the prostitute murder last night.”
They shook hands.
“No problem.” Nick waved them to the chairs in front of his desk. “I’m sure you gentlemen won’t mind if I record this interview for my own files will you?”