Keith took a hit, getting a four of clubs. Twenty-one. The black woman got a 10 of hearts, which were twenty. The dealer hit himself getting six of clubs. With sixteen, he hit again receiving a three of diamond. He refused to stay at nineteen and hit one more time for a seven of spades, busting.
This scenario went on for a while until the house finally started to win. The waitress kept bring Keith triple bourbons. Soon the brother would fall off the stool.
“Did you hear about the murders,” Binky asked sharply.
“Everybody by now baby,” Keith said sourly, placing more bets.
“We may close briefly,” the dealer snapped.
“Well if you do I feel you on that,” Keith said clearly.
“I don’t see why. The killer’s all ready gone. Man, I don’t think he’s coming back,” the black woman said sharply.
“Even so we still might have to close,” the dealer snapped sharply.
“Well not while I’m doing so well,” Keith said strongly.
Well thirty minutes had passed before Misty was back. Keith liked looking in her face better.
“You mentioned earlier that you were a detective,” she said sharply.
“Hell yeh,” Keith said cheerfully as he gathered his winnings.
“Are you looking for the killer?” the dealer asked.
“Hell yeh.”
“I really hope you find this creep,” the black woman said firmly.
“We’re hella trying are best, ma’am,” he snapped sharply and took a long swig from his bourbon.
“Well try harder,” the black woman snapped.
“Does anyone dress like a clown in here?” Keith asked.
“I’m afraid not.”
Keith shook his head and guzzled his drink down.
“You might try the Circus, Circus,” the dealer said clearly.
“For sure.”
Keith hadn’t had much sleep lately. There a couple of days stubble on his round chin. He hadn’t had a bath. And the nightmares came back again. Why was he here gambling? Should he be home sleeping? He could function better well rested.
Keith saw that the carpets had holes in them. The ceiling was coming down any moment. The cocktail waitress wore raggedy outfits. And the drinks tasted hella watered down.
“When are you guys going to remodel this place?” Keith stated sharply.
“It’s started to suck a little, huh? Mr. Tanner said in a newsletter that remodeling would began soon,” the dealer said firmly.
“Dude I remember a couple of years back when this joint was really popping,” The black woman stated cheerfully.
“Those days are coming back you’ll see. We’re getting brand-new tables, carpets, slot machines, video poker, uniforms…the works,” the dealer said happily.
When a new dealer came aboard Keith’s luck began to change. He won five hands in a row…two of them blackjacks. He continued to drink bourbon until he finally lit a cactus joint. The sent was hella strange. But he was getting hella high.
Well Keith finally left the table with $9,750 in chips. He cashed them in at the cage. The first time he showed a sign of life. He felt even better when he stretched those legs.
Well he headed up to the Western Grill, which is on the second floor. He could smell the food as he passed the long line of slot machines. There were people with children coming out of the place. His stomach was growling like a vicious animal. He did really care how bad the food would be.
Keith quickly got a seat since it wasn’t so busy. He sat in a wobble brown table in the corner and was given a torn menu. The carpets were torn up. He heard plates and hella cursing in the kitchen. He smashed some sorta big bug on the table.
The waitress wore a huge cowboy hat, a western-style blouse and denim skirt and scratched up boots as did everyone else. The place was made up like the old west from 1873. There was a stains in his coffee cup. And a roach floating in his water glass. He ordered a steak sandwich, Coke and fries.
He was not very happy when the waitress complained about him smoking his cactus weed. There were many cracks in the ceiling, walls and tables. He couldn’t believe the joint wasn’t shutdown by food inspectors or why his butt was still sitting.
The lunch guest was mostly bums and drunks. They left really funky odor. They were hella noisy, arguing about some raggedy lady.
Keith finished his coffee. When the waitress show with his steak sandwich, coke and fries. She sat a bottle of ketchup, mustard, hot sauce, A1 and mayonnaise in front of him.
“Well, is there anything else?” she asked firmly.
“Would you take a bath?”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You know what happened yesterday?”
“No!”
“Well this fat man came in here he ordered a steak smothered in onions with mash potatoes. Before I knew it, he had his cat on the table and together they feasted on the food. I told him you can’t bring animals in here. He said animal’s need to eat too. I told him he must leave now. He became very angry and wanted his money back but my supervisor wouldn’t. So him and his furry little beast were escorted out by security. What about that?” She explained clearly.
“Well a man could be able to have lunch with his cat. What is the damn world coming to?” Keith said strongly.
“Well I don’t know where you were raised but where I come from animals don’t eat off my plate at home or in public,” she snapped.
“Animals are the cleanest being on the planet, boo,” he said strongly, biting into his sandwich.
“I’m sorry, man. But I’m so done with this conversation,” she snapped and stormed back into the noisy kitchen.
“Good don’t want to talk to your funky butt anyway.”
There were two women and a man began fighting over sex and knocking over tables. They even threw food at each other. Security quickly swarmed on them dragging them out. The man’s nose was broken. The ladies dress torn.
Keith finished his steak and fries. The waitress came and removed the plates. She returned with a big slice of orange pie. As Keith was eating it, he watched a blond with the biggest boobs known to man sitting in a booth beside a short man wearing a purple suit. Their baby, sitting in a highchair kept laughing and tossing food on the floor. Keith thought that was funny.
Keith finished his pie. The waitress came for the plate. She poured him a cup of coffee before she rushed off into the kitchen.
When Keith was all coffee out he left a $2 tip and headed for home. He was ready to take a long sleep.
Chapter 39
The Clown Shop was on E. Second Street. It had been there at least five years. He’d never been inside. He remembered there was a Foto-Mat there before. This was the fifth shop he’d been today.
He wore a green sports jacket, over a t-shirt and baggy jeans with purple Converse. He was well rested and ready for battle. He carried his Beretta Cougar .32.
Keith sat in an alley between The Clown Shop and Barney’s Drugs, which has been there since World War11. He had bullshit with Barney many occasions. The dude was always full of stories. He had just finished smoking that cactus weed and now he started on some Vodka. He wasn’t quite ready to approach the store.
The Clown Shop was painted white with a lot of different types of clowns pasted on it with colorful balloons. A fancy gift shop was next door. There were several folks standing front looking at souvenirs.
After he felt hella stoned he stepped out of his vehicle and approached the shop. He glanced in the window. There were folks inside looking around at stuff. A man or woman was standing behind a register wearing a clown suit. The people inside seemed harmless.
So Jackson went inside with his Beretta by his side. Then he approached the costumers, pointing his gun. The place smelled like butter popcorn.
“Come on, people. Let’s go! We’re closing,” Keith shouted sharply.
The people soon scattered towards the exit.
“You hear me. G
et the hell out!”
“Fine this is the worst store I’ve ever been in,” one said harshly, rushing to the exit.
“Hold it! Come back. We’re not closed. This black idiot doesn’t work here,” the clown said strongly.
But the folks kept moving out of the door. Keith locked the door behind.
“What the hell are you doing?” the clown stated testily.
“Emptying the septic tank babe,” Keith said sharply, putting his gun away.
“Those are good paying costumers,” he snapped, walking towards Keith.
Keith squeezed his nose. It made a horn sound.
“I don’t care boo. I’m looking for a murderer,” Keith said strongly, pulling up his baggy jeans.
“Well you won’t find one here,” the clown said firmly.
“My black senses tell me different,” Keith said sharply, spitting on the floor.
“Spitting on my floor! What kinda animal are you?” he said bluntly.
“A very pissed off one.”
Keith squeezed his nose again. A louder horn sound.
“Don’t do that anymore,” the clown said coldly.
“Better your nose than your head, boo,” Keith stated sharply.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Keith Jackson. I’m a private investigator.”
“What interest would a private investigator have here?” the clown asked strongly, with a puzzled stare.
“Like I say I’m looking for a murderer,” Keith said strongly as he placed the close sign on the door.
“We sell clown outfits. And toys as well.”
“I’m calling the cops Raymond the clown doesn’t take crap from no two bit PI,” he said harshly, picking up a phone that appeared to be a banana split.
Keith quickly brought the gun back out. “Put that phone down or I’ll kill you!”
Raymond put the receiver back and came from around the counter in fear. A tall looking clown came out of a backroom holding a bucket of popcorn.
“What’s going on Raymond? Where are all the people?” the clown with the popcorn said clearly.
“We’ve trouble, Pinky,” Raymond said firmly with a frown.
“Who are you?”
“Pinky he’s that famous vulgar black PI,” Raymond said frigidly.
“Well sir. If you’re not here for a clown suit you’d better leave. Have you ever seen a clown get mad?” Pinky said moodily, placing the popcorn bucket down.
Keith picked up some red balls for juggling. He began throwing them hard at Pinky. The first three nailed him in the face. The fourth one slammed into his chest area. Pinky fell backwards to the floor. Keith grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bucket and shoved it into his mouth.
“Bug off, ignorant clown. You just didn’t get mad enough,” he said chewing popcorn. “By the way this stuff needs more butter!”
Raymond was standing over Pinky who was out cold.
“Pinky, are you all right? I think you killed him!”
“Stop your tripping, Raymond. Pinky’s not dead. He’ll come around,” Keith said cheerfully, sticking a joint in his mouth.
“You’re too much, PI,” he said strongly.
“I know, bruh,” Keith said strongly and took a long hit from his joint.
“No smoking in here my friend,” Raymond snapped with a smirk.
“Bug off, bruh,” Keith stated sharply.
Raymond watched people stroll by his shop many looking in the windows. Even some tried the door. It was very early. Raymond became very steamed over this.
“Do you know how much money I’m losing?” he said incredulously.
“I don’t give a damn, bruh,” Keith stated firmly.
“What do you want?” he said exhaustedly.
“I told you. I’m looking for a killer!”
“Clowns are good people.”
“Not the one in the Steven King movie,” Keith said sharply, blowing smoke in his face.
“We are talking about reality, pal,” he snapped.
“Lets cut to the chase. I want to know all the bums who came in this joint recently looking for a clown outfit,” Keith said clearly, finishing his joint.
“You’re talking about that casino murder?”
“Hell yeh.”
“What do you want to know?”
“The tall man that bought that clown outfit a couple of days back,” Keith said sharply.
“You do know we have a strict policy,” Raymond said strongly, arching his left eyebrow.
“I don’t give a cotton picking booty about your policies dude,” Keith stated irately, grabbing Raymond by the collar.
“What are you going to do tough guy?”
Keith began slamming Raymond against the wall for a while until he finally gave in.
“You know this man could sue our business?” Raymond cried loudly.
“I’m sorry. We’re talking about a killer. This bum could be planning his next kill. Give me a name quick!”
“I’m not sure.”
Keith began punching the clown in the face. Then he shoved him down on the floor. And Keith started knocking over shelve of wigs and over merchandise. But Raymond wasn’t fazed by this. Keith kept knocking over everything creating a serious mess.
Well he began kicking Raymond in the side. He yelled out in pain. But Keith kept kicking him. But the tough clown wouldn’t break. Then Keith took out his gun and shoved the barrel down his throat.
“Give me this sick punks name! Or I’ll blow your clown head off. Or maybe stick this barrel up your booty and fire some bullets clown,” Keith explained harshly.
“All right!”
So Keith helped him up to his feet. Raymond looked a little battered but still able to get about. His suit was torn.
“Look at my costume. It’s torn.”
“Your life’s going to be torn. Because your butt is going to jail,” Keith said strongly, pulling up his jeans.
“That’s not possible, friend!”
“You’re harboring a fugitive.”
“Okay, man. I don’t know his name. He comes in his all the time buying wigs and outfits. He always pays in cash. I thought he worked at Circus-Circus. But he works at the Mint Casino in the coffee shop,” he explained clearly, panting.
“Why didn’t you tell the cops?”
“I wasn’t sure he could be the guy.”
“All right, gee.”
“Whose going to pay for this?”
“Send the bill to RPD. They hired my butt,” Keith said sharply, walking towards the exit.
Keith strolled down the wet streets. He saw tourist heavily dressed lugging buckets of money from casinos to casino. Some of them had their umbrellas. It was still sorta cold. There was a serial killer on the loose and nobody seemed to care. They continued to go about their daily lives as if everything was hella tight.
Keith often thought about Aunt Natalie. She lying on that bed watching The Price Is Right which made her very happy. But still she was very home sick. Keith prayed for her.
He found out that Miss Sand’s body had already been transported back to LA to prepare for the funeral. Miss Graham wanted Keith to attend.
Well he continued down the street, enroute for his Dodge. He heard a vehicle squeal around the corner of W. Second and Arlington Street a vehicle squealing towards him always meant trouble.
The vehicle was a Starlite Yellow cab. It stopped beside him. The window rolled down and a Heckler& Koch HK 53 5.56mm stuck out.
“Everybody get down!” Keith shouted sharply as he dived to the ground.
The loud machinegun spread bullets everywhere. People ran into building ducked behind cars, screaming. And ran into one another. It was fanatical. The bullets took out near by business windows, disabling vehicles parked on the street, finding some legs and arms.
Keith took out his gun and tried to get a shot off but it was hella difficult to battle against a machinegun.
“Leave Mel alone dog!” the rough voice said
bluntly from the cab as it was about to cut.
As the taxi made its way quickly down the street, Keith started firing at it until the bitch disappeared. He took out the back window but wasn’t sure if he did any damage to the man. He remembered the number of the cab 111. He wrote it down on a notepad just encase.
He looked back down the sidewalk. He saw several bodies on the ground some folks weren’t moving. People came out with terrified looks on their faces. And store people came out to help the wounded frantic folks. There were police sirens approaching. Keith couldn’t believe the cops weren’t around. Bicycle and foot-patrol police have always frequented this area.
The cabdriver referred to Mel. Who’s Mel? Not that pretty dude that works at the Mint Casino Mel looks too soft or easy spirited to do something like murder women. And how could somebody like that hate woman? Why would Mel be friends with a ratty old ugly cabby?
Keith was on his way towards the Starlite Taxi Company. He was looking to bag this sorry bum. He wasn’t sure this man was even working there. He probably stolen the taxi.
How did the taxi driver know where to find him? How did he know who he was? Maybe the killer saw him on the news. Maybe the killer was at all the crime scenes like most murderers are. He thought maybe have some friends watch over aunt Natalie and Tangy Miller for their safety.
Chapter 40
Ray’s Coffee Shop was in The Mint Casino. Miss Tangy Miller and Keith had recently had Prime Ribs. The place had a minty atmosphere and everything was green.
Ray the owner was a nice dude. He is always smiling as he walks through the coffee shop. He shakes as many hands and engaged in small talk as he had time to do he was obviously a busy man. He was a very tall man about six-foot ten, dark hair and eyes. He wore an assortment of checkered sports coats and grey slacks.
When Keith finally got there, it was 3:00pm. The lunch crowd was fading fast. The dinner crowd would blow in here in a couple of hours. He learned that the supervisor on duty was Mrs. Brenda Magilly. He for a first didn’t see Ray must have be in the office.
He studied the food servers closely but nobody resembled Mel. Mel either left early or hasn’t showed up yet.
Keith found Mrs. Magilly sitting in a back booth away from other people. The food smelled good coming from the kitchen. The servers were quietly placing their orders. And there was not much noise coming from the kitchen possibly because the supervisor was near by.
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