Chapter 7

The blond woman sat in the back of the club at a secluded table and winced at the string of bad jokes coming from the comedian on the stage. Her nerves were raw as she listened to an endless monologue of old jokes and aimless comments. If those people didn't get here fast, she wasn't sure she could stand to wait while this jerk was rambling.

"No, I'll tell you what," continued the clueless lug. "I've never seen a place like Las Vegas. You really see strange stuff here. Just this morning, I saw a dyslectic man try to kill himself by jumping behind a bus. I tell you it was quite a sight."

A smattering of laughter filled the room. The comedian appeared not to notice the reaction to his joke.

"This drunk comes up to this matron setting at a bar waiting for her husband and sets on the stool beside her. 'Hey Lady?' 'Yes?' 'You got the flattest tits I ever saw. My God you look like a boy.' The lady picks up her purse and knocks the drunk to the ground.

"He crawls back up to the stool and looks back at the woman. 'Hey Lady. You got the biggest ass I've ever seen. It's huge.' She halls off and knocks him off the stool again.

"He gets back on the stool and says, 'Hey Lady, you're in luck. I like you. I'm gonna tell you how to get bigger tits.' 'Oh really, how's that?' 'Well, you go in the john and take some toilet paper and rub it between your tits.' 'Really, and how is that supposed to make my breasts larger?' 'It worked for your ass didn't it?'

"I have to tell you, this energy crisis is sure changing things. I was in San Francisco last week and I got caught in the elevator with two dykes and another guy during one of their rolling blackouts. All you could hear in the car was a big wet kiss, a smack and the other guy hit the floor.

When the power came back, the guy getting off the floor gave me one of those looks that said, "You son of a bitch. You kissed the girl and she halls off and knocks the shit out of me."

The butch looks at her girl friend with a look that said, "Good girl. He takes advantage of you, and you stood up for your rights."

The girl looks at her other half with a look that said, "I'm glad you're here to take care of me. This guy tries to kiss me, and you took care of him. You are so wonderful."

I'm just standing there thinking, "You are one smart fucker. You wait for the lights to go out, kiss the back of your hand, and knock the shit out of that bastard that scuffed your new shoes when he got on the elevator."

This time the response was louder, but it was communal groan.

The blond cringed back into her chair. As the monologue got worse, the hair on the back of her neck started to tingle. Something was wrong. She reflected on the hours she had spent since she got off the bus.

She knew she was in trouble when she stopped the man in the bus station to ask for directions to an inexpensive hotel. He mistook her question as a proposition. So did the black woman in the see through blouse. Then her pimp had started in. She was just damn lucky those people in the pink van had come along to pull her ass out of that mess.

The incident at the bus station did do one thing for her. It made her much more cautious. That's how she had noticed the man behind her. She was used to men looking at her when she dressed up, but there was something about this man that did not feel right. The look was one of recognition, almost as if he had been looking for her.

She had to get out of this town! She had been careful. How had they found her?

"Did you know that cat houses are legal in Nevada outside of Las Vegas? Oh yes it's true. What a strange place this is, where cats have their own homes. Can anyone tell me what that's about?"

One disgusted man from the bar yelled out, "Why? You wouldn't understand it anyway."

Now this brought some laughs from the audience. The comedian ignored the heckler, but the guy started getting bolder when the comedian started his next joke.

"They have one of those places called the Mustang Ranch, but that's the wrong name for it. The Mustang is a car, and they have a truck farm there. It should be called the Ranger Ranch."

"You should be called finished!"

This time the comedian shot a dirty look at the heckler, but he made a valiant attempt to continue.

The woman stood to leave and bumped into another woman. The both looked at each other with their mouths open.

A quick glance would make one think that the women were twins. Both were blond, both had on the same type of dress, and both about the same height. The new woman, however, was about five years older than the first woman and about ten pounds heavier.

"My kid just turned six years old this week. God, what a trip it is. If you've never been parents, you ought to give it a try. I have to warn you, though. There is a demolition zone around kids where ever they go. They don't know it though. 'Who broke that vase?' you ask."

"Who broke your monologue?" called out the heckler.

"They always answer 'I don't know.' If I ever find that kid named 'I don't know', I'm gonna ground him for a year."

"Let's get some real entertainment in here instead of this brainless wonder! Fuck your kid and you too. I bet the kid's not even yours. Your wife fucked the entire seventh fleet. I bet he's black, too!"

That did it. The comedian came off the stage and ran to the heckler. Tables turned over as people were pushed back. Some of the women that were pushed screamed as they fell. Men were cursing as food flew everywhere, and drinks soaked their clothes.

Passing one table, he picked up an open wine bottle and lifted it over his head. The wine spilled down his arm and flew across the room.

The doorman and the bouncer made a rush to try to stop the fight before someone got really hurt.

People were falling against each other and being pushed back. Soon several fights broke out in the bar as the less than sober patrons defended themselves and their escorts.

At one table next to the stage, one woman pulled down the front of another woman's gown as the other woman had two hands full of her hair. The second woman released one hand from the first woman's hair grabbed her evening gown and with a mighty shout, ripped it off her body.

As the women's escorts tried to pull the women apart, they somehow changed partners. As the second woman's companion grabbed the first woman from behind and the first woman's companion grabbed the second woman from behind, they noticed that each had the women's breasts in their hands.

At the same time, they threw the women aside and came at each other for playing with their woman's breasts. As the fists started flying between the two 'peacemakers', the women came back at each other with even more ranker. They ran at each other, crashed together, and fell on the table of another couple who were weak from laughter.

They in turn were pushed into a table and knocked food and drinks into two more couples. These people joined in the fight.

One woman from the second table slapped the man from the other couple for laughing at her. The man struck her back and his escort grabbed the 3^rd woman's escort by the groin as she stomped on his instep. This went on and seemed to grow like an uncontrolled wild fire.

Ester and Rhonda walked into the room as a beer bottle came through the door and hit Paul on the chest.

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed as Ester pushed through the crowed to the back table where the blond had been setting.

Next to the table was a blond woman in an evening gown prone in a pool of blood. Jamie quickly pushed to the woman's side and felt for a pulse. There was none. Jamie gently shifted the woman to check for a pulse in her neck, but what used to be a neck was now a series of bloody slashes. Casino security was now moving into the lounge in an effort to stop the fight.

A plain clothed guard forced his way to the prone body and was about to grab Jamie when Paul pulled out his wallet and showed him his Ohio State Police badge.

"You need to call the police, and secure this area until they get here. Jamie is an Akron, Ohio police officer and a doctor. We'll help until you can get homicide here. Oh by the way, call the coroner, too."

The man spoke into the lapel of his jacket for a few seconds and came back to Paul. More security people were coming into the lounge the fights started to settle down. Paul said, "I suggest you keep everyone here until the police lets them go.

"Good idea," replied the man. "Can you help coordinate this?"

"Sure."

The man spoke into his coat again, but Paul heard what he said this time. "The guy with me is a cop. He's in charge until the local police show up. Do what he says."

The men in the room looked at Paul and nodded in unison. "OK," started Paul. "You two, get to the front entrance. You, you, you, and you get to the exit doors and make sure no one leaves. You guys other there, make sure no one leaves the kitchen or out the stage doors."

That left Paul, Ester, Rhonda, and the big guard that was taking to Paul to try to keep the room in order. The fighting had been stopped, but the tension could still be felt in the air.

"Listen up everyone," announced Paul. "There has been a murder in this room tonight. Until the police arrive, I'm going to have to ask all of you to stay here. You might have seen something that can help in their investigation. I'm sure that they will only take your names and addresses, and ask just a few questions, but it is important that you cooperate."

The heckler that started the whole mess stood up and shouted, "Fuck you, you son of a bitch. I'm not staying in this place another mother fuckin' second." He picked up a bottle and threw it at Paul.

A steak of white crossed the room to the man. Within a few seconds the drunk was on his stomach, his tie had been removed, and his hands were tied behind his back with the freed tie. Rhonda knelt with one knee to the back of his neck.

"Please stay and talk to our friends the Las Vegas Police," she crooned as if talking to a small child. "I'm sure they would appreciate it. "I know I sure would. Maybe after they are through with you, we could talk about improving your manors. What do you say?"

.

"Fuck you, you stupid bitch. I'm gonna get up from here and tear your tits off."

Rhonda leaned forward pushing her knee further into his neck. As he started to shake uncontrollably, she said, "Wrong answer. Let's try this again. Would you please stay with me until the police say you can leave?"

The man was having trouble breathing, but was able to squeak out, "Okay. Okay. You win."

"Thank you sir," she softly replied. "I am sure the Las Vegas police will appreciate your cooperation."

"I'm sure you're right," said a man behind her. I'm Cyris Smithson. I'm the President and CEO of Desert Properties. We own this casino. Mr. Jefferson," he said to the man standing next to Paul. "do you think you could help this GENTELMAN to a nice secluded spot so he can await the police in comfort?"

"Certainly can, Mr. Smithson. Please, sir, come this way." The gentleness of his words faded as the back of his hand gently pushed Rhonda's knee away from the heckler's neck, and the front of his hand grasped his shoulder and lifted him to his feet in one fluid motion.

A smile spread across Rhonda's face as she looked into Jefferson's eyes. She turned to the heckler and said, "I think you are in good hands now. Thank you, Sir, for your cooperation.

"Mr. Smithson, I'm sorry for my conduct. He just pissed me off when he started to attack my friend."

"Honey, the only thing you have to be sorry for is not calling me Cy. What may I call you so that I don't get in trouble with my female staff for calling you honey?

"Rhonda," she laughed. "This is Paul Brown. The woman knelling over the body is Doctor Jamie Brown, and the woman with the mad on is Ester no last name."

Cy was a young man for the responsibilities he held. His bearing was that of a man who knew his way around a weight room. His blue-black hair had fallen over his stark gray eyes during the run from his office on the other side of the properties. A deep dimple softened his sharp chin, and his mouth curved into a mischievous grin.

"Do you often walk into bar fights and stop them?"

"No, but in my job we try to prevent them before they get started."

"Oh? And just what do you do?"

"I'm an agent for the 'Security International Corporation'.

"I've heard of your company. After seeing what you just did to a guy three times your size, I just might believe what they say about you. Please, give me a call tomorrow. I think I need some of your help in some projects I have coming up."

Before the conversation went any further, and before Rhonda could find out what he was talking about several police officers entered the room.

The lead detective moved to Jamie's side. "What do you think you are doing? Get away from that woman. Where is the jewelry you took off of her? Officer, arrest this black bitch for stealing from a dead body, and contaminating a crime scene."

Cy walked to the officer and said, "Don't be stupid, Summers. You can't talk to this woman that way."

"Smithson, you shut the fuck up before I arrest you for being the slime ball you are. I don't like you on a good day, and this ain't no good day. This just may be the excuse I've been looking for to shut this fucking place down."

The coroner brushed against Detective Summers and asked Jamie, "You a doctor?"

"Yes. My name is Captain Jamie Brown, Akron, Ohio Police. I am the profiler for the City of Akron, and former profiler for the FBI. I touched the body twice to make sure there was nothing we could do for her. I'm sure you will confirm my diagnosis that the woman is dead."

"Captain Brown, please excuse Summers. The guy is obsessed with being stupid. When his uncle is Chief of Police, however, he can get away with stuff that he shouldn't. Racial profiling is one of those things you've just run up against. Las Vegas has a fine Police department. Please don't judge it based upon its weakest link. I'm the coroner, Al Smothers."

"Make a deal with you, Doctor Smothers. I'm on vacation. If you call me Jamie and let me call you Al, I'll forget all about your hindquarters from headquarters. Every department has one."

"Thanks Jamie, you're a goddess."

"I'm glad someone can see through that nasty woman I married, and see what I see. Now, Al, there are two of us. I'm Paul Brown, or should I say I am 'Mr. Doctor Captain Jamie Brown.'"

"Thanks, Paul, for not letting Bart Simpson step on his dick in this case. Cy Smithson is a real power in these parts, and we really don't need him camping in City Hall trying to lop off heads."

"I thought his name was Bart Summers."

"It is, but he acts like Bart Simpson."

"Can't argue about that. How in the hell did he get to wear a badge anyway?"

"Well, our friend Bart couldn't get a job as a rent a cop, so his uncle put him on the force in traffic. Chief Summers took a four-week leave of absence to go on one of those month long European things, and while he was gone, Bart conned his way into a real job in vice. Vice didn't want him, so they tried to put him anywhere else. The story goes that the captain of the homicide division lost too much money in a card game, and the captain from vice called it even if they could transfer Bart to homicide."