“Want some coffee and doughnuts?” Walker said sharply.
“For sure,” Keith said with a smirk.
Walker took two Styrofoam cups from the pack and placed them side by side. He poured coffee from the coffeemaker into them. Keith grabbed a couple of sugar donuts from the box and bit into one.
When Walker replaced the coffeepot, he grabbed a jelly donut. Keith dumped some Midnight Moon into his coffee for more flavor.
“Dude, look! The best surveillance equipment in the world,” he boasted sharply with a sly grin.
“Hell yeh. You got some fly set-up here,” Keith said cheerfully and took a long swig from his coffee.
“What do you want?” Walker said firmly as he studied the video screens.
“Want to catch a killer,” Keith snapped, glancing at the screens.
“And you will,” he said, chewing on a jelly donut.
“Do you remember the night of the murder?”
“Yeh. It was Friday night. We were very busy. Nicky Gady and The Vogues put on a great show,” Walker explained clearly, finishing his second donut.
“Do you like the Vogues?” he asked firmly, finishing his coffee.
“Dude I wanted to have sex with Nicky Gady,” he said strongly, pouring himself more coffee.
“Very simple, bruh. Just go down to the morgue,” Keith stated strongly pouring himself more coffee.
“Hella sick dude but I like it. The lady can’t say no,” Walker said happily.
“There you go, gee,” Keith said.
“Man I hate the fact that some sick-fart killed her.”
“Me too.”
“Can I have some of that stuff in my coffee?”
“For sure.”
Keith poured some Midnight Moon in both of their cups.
“That’s what I’m talking about man,” Walker stated cheerfully.
“They let you slime-brains in these casinos drink?” Keith asked sharply drinking his coffee.
“Hell no! But I do, bro,” Walker said boastfully and took a long sip from his coffee.
“Hell yeh. I like you homeboys,” Keith said sharply and took a long swig of coffee.
“I didn’t get your name,” he asked and took a big swig from his coffee.
“Private investigator. Keith Jackson.”
“Who are you working for?”
“None of your business, man,” Keith snapped and took swig of coffee.
“I thought you liked me.”
“I do but not that much baby.”
“Well I know dude we’re on the same page on solving the murder of Nicky Gady,” Walker said strongly, sipping his coffee.
“Dude I think you have the killer on tape!” Keith said sharply, finishing up his coffee.
“That’s right. We should have it,” Walker said, chewing on a donut.
Walker took one last sip from his coffee cup and stood up. He walked over to a Metal cabinet full of keys. He casually went through it until he found the right keys. He stuck the key into the lock, turning it until it opened.
Walker carefully looked through the videotapes in the cabinet. He took out one he believed dated back to Friday night.
“This is it,” Walker said strongly, heading over to a VCR.
He stuck it into the VCR and turned it on. The VCR made a squeaky sound as he rewind the tape. Then the VCR made a loud click sound when it was finished rewinding. Walker pressed play. Keith started guzzling the Midnight Moon.
“Yo, Walker. Don’t go too far back! Please began after the show,” Keith snapped sharply.
Walker fast-forwarded the tape until he reached the part after Miss Gady left the stage heading to her dressing room.
“Okay! Now are you happy?” Walker snapped.
“Dude I’ll be more happy when I catch this barf-brain,” Keith said strongly.
“Dude the dressing room hallway is coming up,” Walker said firmly.
“Well it better punk.”
They watched the dressing room using five screens. A black dude came in to watch the other screens. You surely couldn’t rob the casino blind.
“Hey man look! A big yellow afro’s heading down the dressing room hallway,” Walker said sharply.
“Yeh. I see that,” Keith said strongly and took another swig from the bottle. “This could be the icing on the cookie.”
“That clowns over six-feet tall,” Walker said sharply.
“What the hell is a clown doing there?” the black security guard stated strongly.
“Maybe the killer will show up after the clown leaves,” Walker said firmly finishing his coffee.
“Was the clown part of the show?” Keith asked sharply.
“I didn’t see a clown in the show dude,” Walker stated bluntly.
“Are you sure?” Keith snapped.
“I’m sure dude!” Walker said firmly.
“Where did the clown come from?” the black security guard snapped.
“Looks like the entrance by the sports bar,” Keith said.
“Look the clown went inside!” Walker said, pointing to the screen.
“Didn’t you turd-breaths notice this?” Keith asked harshly.
“I didn’t work on Friday, bruh,” the black security said firmly.
“It was busy man. I was shorthanded,” Walker said strongly.
“Hell no. You were probably in here humping each other gee,” Keith said sharply.
“Bug off, dog!” the black guard said defensively.
“Yeh. Slime you. You didn’t do anything to save her,” Walker said hotly.
“How could you drink that stuff on top of donuts?” The black security guard said firmly.
“Very simple, bruh,” Keith said strongly.
The clown went inside the dressing room. Shortly he came out, chewing something. No one even noticed him. He walked into the crowd towards the exit and vanished. Keith wanted to reach in the screen, grab the dude, and bite his head off.
“Well?” Walker snapped.
“Run this thing again!” Keith stated with a ghetto tone.
“All right, man,” Walker said firmly.
“Now I know it wasn’t no animal. Course I always knew it couldn’t be no dog or wolf. A crazy punk dressed up like a clown,” Keith said strongly.
“And he didn’t have a blade,” the black security added.
“That thing could’ve been in his pocket, dude,” Keith said, drinking whisky.
Well they sat there for hours looking at the video hoping to find something they could find some more clues.
“Did you check the trash?” Keith noted clearly.
“Well no!” Walker snapped.
“Then we better check, baby,” Keith snapped.
“Why the trash?” the black security asked sharply.
“Well I don’t think he’s going to walk down the street in a clowns outfit after murdering someone. That punk knows you saw him in the cameras,” Keith explained clearly.
“Good point, brother,” Walker said firmly.
So they went outside. The rain had stopped and left it sorta wet.
“Check all these dumpsters near the casino. If we’re dealing with a serial killer he’s bound to leave evidence,” Keith explained strongly.
So, a few of the security guards dug into the trash. Keith got in one of the other ones. The guards complained about the smell. Folks walked by glancing.
“Dude I can’t stand the smell of this garbage. I think I’m going to puke,” Walker stated bluntly, squinting.
“Bruh I can’t stand the smell of any garbage. But hang in there,” Keith said strongly.
They continued to sift through the trash for some time. They complained about their clothes being ruined. Keith’s clothes were messed up too. At least the security guards got their stuff cleaned by the casino for free.
“Man I found something hella gross,” the black security guard stated strongly as he held up this sickness.
“What the hell is that stuff?” Keith stat
ed sharply with a frowned.
Well Walker held up the items, which looked like a clowns’ outfit and a very dirty yellow Afro.
“This looks like the stuff this punk wore,” Walker stated firmly.
“Will have to send that funky stuff to the crime lab,” Keith said strongly.
As Walker climbed out of the trashcan, the black security guard had a big plastic bag waiting for him. They put the awful smelling stuff inside.
“They won’t find anything. There is cottage cheese and barbecue sauce all over everything,” Walker complained harshly.
“That stuff doesn’t matter. Because Reno’s finest lab technicians in the world will fix it,” Keith said surely.
“Look at our clothes!” The black security guard said firmly.
“We look hella fly don’t we,” Keith said with a smirk.
Chapter 33
Well he arrived in Las Vegas, Nevada on Monday morning. The last time Keith was here, he played the roulette wheel at the Plaza casino. He won hella big. But when he tried to cash out $200,000 the security there began giving him a hard time. They thought the black dude was cheating. So they threw him out. He kept the money.
Keith was wearing a baseball cap with the letters KILLER THUG on it turned backwards, an over-sized black sports jacket. He also wore a white T-shirt with a machinegun stenciled on it. And baggy jeans.
The taxis dropped him off on 215 E. 3rd street in front of a white house, with 4000 sq. f. all on one level. There were oak trees in front. There eight round circles of grass patches everywhere. He’d never saw that before. There were big tinted windows all over the place. The neighboring homes were pretty much the same worth probably $800,000.
Well he walked up to the door and knocked. When the door finally opened, a tall, slim man stood there. He stared at Keith with friendly dark-brown mink eyes. He wore a big white shirt with drum sets all over it. Also he had faded blue jeans. He looked hella unemployed.
“Yes, what’s up?”
“I’m looking for Chuck Totten,” Keith said firmly with smirk.
“I am he. And you are?”
“I’m Keith Jackson, a private investigator,” he stated firmly, showing his ID.
Totten nodded as he handed the ID back. A blond woman came to the door, wearing a pink shirt and tight blue jeans. She smiled at Keith. He smiled back.
Mrs. Totten was straightening a flowery dress on her daughter. And two boys were dressed up nicely: Jersey shirts and shorts. They were waiting for their sister. They must have been going to school. Their beautiful lunch pails sat on an oak table along with books and binders.
Totten closed the door and his long legs carried him over to a tan sofa. His kids hugged and kissed him as they made their way over to their mother to do the same thing before heading off to school.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked firmly.
“Hell yeh,” Keith snapped as he sat down in a leather chair.
Keith glanced at a lovely set of drums in the corner of the spacious room. Many photos of the Vogues and Totten playing drums and was his family too. Big oakwood shelves were stack with novels and cds. A shinny black piano sat by a stacked bar. A basketball sat next to a stuffed pink elephant. The place smelled of blueberry pancakes, whip cream, syrup, eggs bacon and toast. To the left there was a big sword on the wall. To the right there were a bunch of vampire posters.
Totten returned with a double glass full of bourbon and a tall glass of milk. He handed Keith the bourbon. He immediately took a long swig from the glass.
“Hey, dude. This is some good shit,” Keith said strongly with a grin.
“Well it should be. It’s twenty years old,” Totten stated cheerfully and took a long drink of milk.
“Age does bring the best out of things,” Keith said happily.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“You have a cool-ass family.”
“I know.”
“You like vampires?”
“Yeh. It’s something about biting people and things,” he said in a creepy voice.
“Have ever bitten anyone?” Keith asked strongly and took another big gulp of bourbon.
“Of course. My dog. He turned into a vampire dog,” he said strongly with a laugh.
“Not a human, dude?”
“No. Not yet.”
Mrs. Totten glanced at him strangely.
“I’m investigating the death of Nicky Gady,” he said sharply, finishing his bourbon.
“Oh yes. I heard about that.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh. I get it. You think I killed her!” he snapped and finished his milk.
His wife gave Keith an evil stare.
“Well she fired you.”
“You seem to be well informed.”
“I’m a detective man.”
“Well that’s very true, dude. She told me that things just weren’t working out,” he said sadly and rose from the chair.
He strolled over to the wall where his sword was. He removed it from over the fireplace. He shoved it in front of Keith.
“Like my sword, dude?”
“Get that weapon out of my face!” Keith snapped.
“It’s been in the family for centuries,” Totten boasted sharply, dangling it in Keith’s face.
“Get that thing out of my face, dude!” he said brazenly as he rose.
Totten moved the sword around swiftly like some Excalibur dude. Keith brought out his gun.
“Drop the sword, bruh! Let the thing drop!” Keith shouted.
“Don’t worry, man. Everything’s cool!” Totten said clearly.
“Stop messing around Charles!” Mrs. Totten said strongly with a frown.
“I’m just sporting my sportsman skills,” Mr. Totten snapped with a smile.
“Drop the sword or I’ll shoot off your narrow head,” Keith stated testily.
He started whining like a baby as he moved back over to the fireplace. He placed the sword back. Keith put his gun away.
“Totten if you didn’t kill Miss Gady stop bugging,” Keith said firmly.
“I’m not mad. I was only showing off. I do it with all our guest,” Totten said clearly. “Also in my spare time I do a little fencing.”
“Dude I’m not here for entertainment. I’m here on business, baby,” Keith said sharply.
When Totten came back over to sit down Keith punched him in the face and he landed on the sofa holding his jaw.
“Damnit! I think you broke my jaw,” Totten screamed.
“Better you than me player,” Keith snapped with smile.
Totten stood up and spit out a tooth.
“Man, you’re a jerk!” he screamed sharply.
“Where were you Friday night?”
“Here watching the fights.”
“Who was fighting?”
“Meriwether. The black man. He was fighting some Mexican guy,” he said strongly still holding on to his jaw.
“Alone?”
“Yes. She was playing bridge with her friends. And the kids stayed with grand mom,” he said.
“I need the names and addresses baby,” Keith said strongly, standing.
Keith walked over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of Jim Beam. He removed the cap and poured a glass of a double amount.
“Screw you pal! I don’t get theses questions. I didn’t kill Nicky,” Totten said maliciously.
“Nothing personal Totten. I’m just doing my job. And most of the time this is the worst part,” Keith said strongly and took a big swig from the glass.
“Look, man! I didn’t kill Nicky. She did have her bad moments. And you’d want to strangle her. And then many times you want hump her brains out. No disrespect to my beautiful wife,” he said sharply, pouring himself some bourbon too.
“Do you know anyone that wears a clown suit?”
“Hell nah.”
“Do you, bruh?”
“Nope!”
“Do you carry a knife?”
; “Hell nah.”
“Who hate Miss Nicky enough to kill her?” Keith asked sharply and took another big swig of bourbon.
“I don’t know dude. Maybe Nicky’s wacky brother,” Totten said clearly and took a long gulp of bourbon.
“So she has a brother?” Keith asked sharply guzzling his whisky.
“That’s right. He was in Reno catching her show.”
“How did you know this?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a liar, man,” Keith stated harshly and finished his glass.
Totten gulp the whole drink down. “Ok, man. I was there too. I caught the show. It was my band. And I still like it. By the way, I was there on Thursday. After the show Nicky was arguing with her brother in the hallway,” he explained strongly, pouring himself bourbon, making it double this time.
Keith lit a joint. He followed Totten over to huge desk with photos on it.
“Are crazy man?”
“I’ve been called worst, Gee,” Keith snapped.
“You can’t smoke that stuff,” Totten snapped sharply.
“Relax, dude. It’s a medical thing.”
“Bull. You’re a drug addict!”
“So?”
“How do you function?”
“Much better!” Keith said strongly looking at photos.
“You’re looking at the best days we ever had,” Totten said strongly and guzzled bourbon.
All the photos were band members of The Vogues. Miss Gady was vocals playing a pink guitar. Totten was jamming on the drums. It was the early times. They were real young. They wore cheesy costumes. They played in garages. They played in basements and in crummy clubs.
There were more pictures of the band as they progressed to playing better and bigger arenas. Looking at these photos made Totten very sad and so continued to drink bourbon. Keith just kept smoking his weed. Mrs. Totten started vacuuming the carpets.
“What the brother’s name?”
Totten began to stagger around the room.
“Mike Gady,” he snapped loudly.
“Where does he live?”
“In Oakland, ca.”
“What did they argue about?”
“Money!”
“All right, dude.”
“So you’re finally leaving?”
“Hell yeh. I going to cut this spot,” he said sharply, hurrying to the door.
Chapter 34
Keith was running late for a date with Miss Tangy Miller at Sea Crest Restaurant. It was because of the slow DMV operation. He just wanted to get his Dodge Dart register.
They had recently remodeled the place. And hired more folks. Had much better looking waitresses. The lines were still too long.
Terror In Reno Page 9