Though it had taken almost two years, Jesse had his first real victory in his war on organized crime. He had shuttered one of the more popular joints on the Strip, and now he could go after Ginger Redfield again. Lance Malco would be next, though he, as always, would be more complicated.
Jesse planned to present the same evidence against Ginger in another jury trial, but never got the chance. A week or so after the court’s ruling, Ginger sold Carousel and O’Malley’s to Lance Malco and left town, skipping bail. With plenty of cash, she vanished from the Coast, with no forwarding address. Months would pass before word filtered back that she was living the good life in Barbados, far from the short arm of any Mississippi law or indictment.
Thumbing his nose at the DA, Lance Malco quickly renovated Carousel, renamed it Desperado, and threw a grand opening extravaganza that lasted a week. Free beer, live music, the prettiest girls on the Coast. The nightclub advertised everything but sex and gambling.
Out of curiosity, Jesse drove by one night during the festive week and stopped in the parking lot, which was crowded. He was thoroughly depressed and again felt like a failure. All of his time and effort in closing the place had been wasted. Not only was it open, albeit under another name, but business was booming.
* * *
On schedule, Haley Stofer arrived at 8:00 a.m. on a Monday and walked into Jesse’s office without a word to the secretary, who still didn’t like the fact that he came and went as he pleased. He’d been undercover for almost a year and had settled nicely into the routine of playing gofer at Red Velvet while reporting to Jesse. He had worked as a janitor, dishwasher, cook, errand boy, and anything else they needed. He kept to himself, said little, heard a lot, never missed work, never griped about not getting a raise, and with time had sort of blended into the scenery as one of the gang who kept the place going.
Stofer reported that on the Strip the rules of engagement changed with the winds. If there was an arrest, or even the rumor of one, the floor managers clamped down and the “members only” ruse was strictly adhered to. No girl could hustle a man who didn’t have credentials. The only exceptions were the soldiers in uniform. They weren’t cops, wouldn’t squeal on anyone, and couldn’t wait to get the girls upstairs. But once the threat passed, things invariably relaxed and the good times rolled for everyone, members or not. Stofer said that during his one-year stint at Red Velvet, prostitution had increased and there were more rumors of gambling in other clubs.
With Jesse’s coaching, Stofer maintained meticulous records. He kept a daily log of who worked and for how long; cooks, bartenders, waitresses, strippers, hookers, floor managers, door managers, security guards, everyone. He counted the boxes of liquor, the barrels of beer, crates of food and kitchen supplies. He was friendly with the housekeeper, an ex-hooker now too old to charge, and she told wild stories of her glory days. Some nights she labored furiously to keep the sheets clean, and, in her opinion, there was more activity upstairs than ever before. Stofer was friendly with Nevin Noll, Mr. Malco’s number two, though no one was close to Noll. He knew Hugh Malco and saw him around the club often.
The big news that morning was that he was being transferred to Foxy’s because a bartender had run off with a waitress. Jesse had been pushing this for months and was delighted. From his vantage point behind the bar, Stofer could observe much more.
Jesse wanted the name of every hooker, some of their customers, and a few of the membership cards, if possible.
With the governor quietly pulling strings, it was time to send in the state police. From March through July, four undercover cops visited Foxy’s and bought drinks for the girls. They were disguised as bikers, hippies, truck drivers, traveling salesmen, even out-of-town lawyers, and stopped by on the nights when a certain floor manager was on duty, a guy not known as a stickler for the rules. They had fake membership cards but never used them. They made a total of eleven visits and wore wires during every one. They laughed with the girls as they talked about pricing and such, then backed away at the last moment with a variety of excuses. Stofer watched the crowd closely and could not spot the cops. If anyone was suspicious, it was not apparent.