Ch. I: Murder in 33-B
"Damn it Ray, you know I'm good for the money. It's not like I'm asking for a great deal of cash, just a few G's to get Roscoe off my back." Joe, barked into the phone. Joe was silent as the person on the other end of the phone line spoke. After a few seconds, Joe's face turned ugly before slamming the phone back on the hook. "Damn that man. You save a guy's life, and you think that he would be begging to help an old friend out, but noooo, what do I get? I'll tell what: a bunch of bullshit excuses."
He ranted to his secretary Betty, who was steadily typing away on her typewriter ignoring her boss. Secretly she couldn't help but think that he got what he deserved. Shame on him for borrowing money from a loan shark to support his gambling habit. That was why his wife had left him, she smirked to herself. Joe scowled at the unconcerned look on Betty's face. He'd fire that bitch if he could, but there weren't a lot of people who would work for the low salary that he paid her.
"Sore faced old prune," he muttered under his breath.
He needed a case big badly. His case file was decidedly slim these days, just a few cheating spouse cases, nothing major. Joe had started his own detective agency, three years ago when he was kicked off the Las Vegas police force for taking matters into his own hand. Those matters being him shooting a low life drug dealer. The boys in Internal Affairs had tried to throw the book at him but Joe still had some friends in high places and was merely got kicked off the force rather than getting thrown into jail as well. He missed the force though.
It had been his wife Sally's idea to start his own detective agency. They had had a nice little nest egg saved up for a rainy day, and it sounded like a good idea. The agency was doing pretty good and he liked the freedom of coming and going as he pleased. He was doing quite well, until Sally became discontent with his late hours. Arguments followed after that. Joe was angry because it had been Sally's idea in the first place to start the agency. Sally was upset because she felt that he didn't have to take every case that came his way. She felt that he was doing well enough to take a partner if he chose and that way Joe could spend more time at home with her so that they could start the family that they had always talked about.
As the months past, the arguments grew more bitter, and Joe stayed away from home more often. If he wasn't on a case, he was hanging out in a bar, or going to the casinos. Soon he was frequenting the casinos more and more because he couldn't get enough. It was funny how he had lived in Vegas, all his thirty-two years, and never really had the gambling fever. Soon gambling took over his life. He bet on everything, football games, horses, anything that would get his adrenaline flowing. This was something else for Sally to complain about especially when he nearly wiped out their entire savings with his habit.
One day he had come home and there was a note saying that she had had enough. That had been three months ago and he missed her like hell. Sally's leaving was his wake up call. He realized then that he had a major problem. Only then did he seek help with gamblers anonymous. He still wasn't out of the woods though, he still owed a great deal of money to Big Roscoe, a loan shark that believed putting your life up as collateral. Over the past year, Joe had borrowed great sums of money from Roscoe but had always managed to pay him back, but in the recent months his luck had taken a turn for the worse. He had been on a losing streak and when Sally had left she had wiped out the rest of their savings. He was barely hanging on to his business because he had been taking on few clients with his gambling problems, and to top it off, he owed Roscoe four thousand dollars, plus a very high interest.
He needed a big case to get him back on track, and to pay Roscoe back. He also needed to get his business on solid ground once more. Then and only then could he work on getting Sally back. You find out who your real friends are in a crisis, he thought to himself, thinking of the phone conversation that he had just had with his ex partner on the force Ray. He knew Ray had the money to lend but Ray was so pussy whipped by his wife Jean that he was afraid to touch any of it. Fuck him anyway.
There was nothing that he had to work on that day and the phone wasn't ringing, so he was about to call it a day, when She walked it. She was a knock out, with the face of an angel, deep brown eyes that you could get lost in, long wavy auburn hair that fell casually to her waist, and her full, pouty lips were made for kissing, not to mention, she had a body to die for. Joe surveyed her tall form encased in a black miniskirt that showed her well shaped legs that went up to her neck, and the black halter top that molded her small but well shaped breasts. Her erect nipples were outlined clearly through the material making his mouth water. He wondered what they would taste like.
"Joe Steele?" she asked tentatively.
"Depends on who's asking?" he eyed her suspiciously. Roscoe was known to have several beautiful women in tow. Perhaps this was one of his messenger.
"Oh, how rude of me, my name is Anita. Anita Dick. I have come to solicit your services," she smiled seductively. Joe looked her over wondering if she could afford his prices. Despite the revealing clothes, he could tell that they weren't cheap.
As if she read his mind she said, "I am willing to pay you anything you want. I work at the new hotel they just built down the street, as a performer, and I do quite well," she said persuasively.
"You mean that real classy joint? What's the name of that again?"
"The Platinum Palace. It's become quite popular." "Well, pull up a chair, Ms. Dick and tell me what I can do for you," he said in a more welcoming tone now that he was assured that no one had sent her.
"Please call me Anita." She smiled at him warmly, giving him a come hither stare. Joe could feel his cock getting hard. Damn. It's been a while since he had some pussy! He turned to Betty who sat on the other end of the office looking on Joe and Anita with her usual look of disapproval.
"Betty, why don't you take a break now and stop by Starbucks and get me a cup of Colombian" he said in a dismissing tone.
"I would if I thought you'd pay me back you cheap bastard," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear it. Betty made as much noise as she could before she sauntered out of the office, making sure she slammed the door behind her.
"She's something else," Anita remarked with an amused smirk on her face.
"Yea, something from another planet," he muttered. "What can I do for you doll?" he asked.
Anita's eyes narrowed momentarily. She hated when men called her doll or baby, but for some reason, coming from this guy it wasn't so bad, and he was kind of cute. He looked to be just short of six feet with a stocky build, dark curly hair, startling blue eyes, and that twelve o' clock shadow that worked quite well from him. He was definitely not Mr. GQ, but he was cute, and she needed him. He was her last hope.
