This is the fourth in the Gerry Pretty detective series.
The story so far: Gerry Pretty, the working half of the now defunct Pretty Goode Detective Agency (Discretion guaranteed) is hired by Laura Lee Jones to find her missing husband, Andy. ( see 'Better off Dead') It was alleged that Andy owed several bookies a large amount of money and that one of them could have eliminated him. The prime suspect was Benny the Bookie. Gerry has some help from Laura Lee's beautiful daughter Lucy. A floater is pulled from the river and identified as the missing Andy Jones. However Gerry believes that Andy is still alive and working with Lucy on a scheme to take the bookies for a large amount of money. He tracks Lucy and Andy down and advises them that the best course of action would be for them to disappear.
In the second story ('A Message from Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson') Gerry takes up the case of a bank employee jailed for embezzling a lot of money from his employer. He finds that the employer had taken the money himself to finance a nightclub venture that involved prostitution and gambling and, that when his partner refuses to repay the loan, leaving a hole in his balance sheets, he frames his employee for the theft.
The third story ('The Lazarus Syndrome') sees the apparent return of Andy Jones. Benny the Bookie is out of jail and angry because he believes Gerry fitted him up for the murder of Andy Jones, who he claims is still alive. Gerry investigates because he also believes that Andy is indeed still alive. All is not as it seems. Lucy did not go overseas with Andy, who it transpires really is dead, killed by Laura lee and kept on ice until the right moment for him to be found.
There is a gunfight between Laura Lee, her former boss and Benny the Bookie. Laura Lee and her partner escape but are arrested trying to reach Canada. Gerry and Lucy are reunited and Gerry learns that he is the father of a son, Mike.
*
I have long dreamed of a normal life, this was as normal as I could get. I still worked in the bar and still worked at being a detective whenever something came up. There are legal problems about ownership of the bar that we've (Lucy and me) been trying to sort our way though. Laura Lee, along with her former partner, is still the owner of the bar. Both of them are due to swing for the murder of Andy Jones, Benny the Bookie and a couple of other guys. When they are no longer a part of this living, breathing world, we don't have a legal claim to the bar because Laura Lee and her partner both had wills leaving it to each other. We are trying to convince Laura Lee to make out a new will leaving it to us. So far this hasn't been successful because she's blaming us for her predicament.
Life in the bar has taken on a different vibe now that Mike is on his feet. He is universally loved by all and has been adopted by the regulars, and they spoil him rotten, especially Paula our regular bartender. He has a miniature jail (play pen) set up in the store room, right next to my office, and she is often to be found there playing with him when we're not busy. But he spends more time running around getting into mischief, like grabbing someone's leg and looking pleadingly up at him until he gets a pretzel or something to eat from the bar.
Lucy, what can I say about Lucy, she is the most beautiful woman that I've ever met, and funny, and smart, and of course very sexy. Her beauty has taken on a new dimension with the imminent arrival of the newest member of the family. Her breasts that have always been a favorite of mine are now bigger, full of milk that she squirted me in the eye with last night . . . I was fondling her when she squeezed her nipple and a drop of milk appeared on its tip. I licked it off, it tasted sweet so I sucked her breast and more came out. "I can understand why babies love this stuff so much."
"Maybe you should suck some more so the supply builds up and he can get a full feed right away." She has assured me that the new arrival will also be a boy. She squeezed it again and it spirted in my eye. She only has a few weeks to go and her breasts are permanently engorged. I spend quite a bit of my time when we're in bed, when I'm not kissing her, admiring them and caressing them. This led, as usual, to us making love. Our love making these days, in deference to her condition, didn't have the frenetic athleticism of past encounters, it was gentler, but in some ways more sensual than before, and always ended up in a satisfactory climax,
The quiet life changed in dramatic fashion tonight. It had been a typical Friday night, the regular band was playing the final set for the night and the bar was still packed with die-hard and well oiled fans. I had just gone to the store room to fetch another couple of bottles of bourbon when I heard the sound of two men having an argument. "Tell me where the fuck it is or I'll blow your useless brains out!"
"Do that and you'll never find out."
"Don't get smart with me wise guy, I know that you know where it is and you're gunna tell me."
"Or you'll what? Crawl back to your boss and have to tell him that you failed to get me to tell you something I don't know."
The sound of the gunshot told me that this thing had gotten way out of control. I dived for the back door, but by the time I'd got out into the back alley the shooter had gone. I ran to his victim, he was alive but only just. He was muttering something so I bent my ear to his face. "Read my back. . . . ." He was gone.
I went back inside to the office and called Lou Callaway, my friend in Homicide and now husband of Dolores the former Mrs. Gerry Pretty. "Lou, are you busy right now?"
"No, why? Don't tell me that you've shot someone who complained about you short-changing him on your measures?"
"Nothing like that, there's been a shooting out back in the alley. We have a body and no shooter."
"I'll be right over." Lou was one of the good guy cops in this town and, along with ex-cop Eddie Halloran, the hack that helped me out from time to time and provided cheap transport when I needed it, were my two buddies that I could call on at just about any time.
The police had been called and a couple of uniforms arrived about a minute ahead of Lou. "How did you get here so quick, we haven't even called it in?" The more senior of the two asked Lou.
"That is why I'm a Homicide detective and you're still pounding the beat. What have we here?"
"Deceased white male, single gunshot wound to the head, looks like close range and I'd say a mob hit." The less senior of the two said.
"Very good. Is there any I.D. on him?"
"There's a billfold with not much in it. There's no Drivers License, but there is a receipt for rent on an apartment with a name on it."
"I think you'll find that he's recently been released from jail." I told them.
"How do you work that out?" Lou asked.
"On his hands and arms there are tattoos and they look like jail tattoos, not professional ones, and they look relatively recent."
"How do you know that they're jail tattoos?"
"Because of the method, they've been done with a pin dipped in black ink not a tattoo needle, if you look closely you'll see the outline isn't as crisp as professional jobs. He was having an argument with his killer just before he was shot. The killer wanted to know where something was and this guy told him that he didn't know."
Lou turned to the other policemen. "Have you called for the meat wagon?"
"It's on its way."
