Hard Case: Boxed Set Books 1,2 & 3 (John Harding Books)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “I’m in real estate,” Aaron answered, signaling to the bartender, who came over with a smile and nod.

  “Your usual?”

  “Yeah, Ben, thanks, and could you get my friend here another of what she’s having?”

  “Sure thing.” The bartender made their drinks in moments, setting them down, and thanking Aaron for the generous tip.

  “Do you play the casinos often?”

  Aaron shook his head. “I hit them on the weekends, mostly the card tables. What do you like to play?”

  “I love the slots. I don’t care much for the card games.” Lynn smiled, listening to Clint snorting his assessment of her small talk. “I win often at slots. How about you with the cards?”

  “I do pretty well. How long will you be staying?”

  “I spread my time over the weekend, so I have four nights.” Lynn looked over the guy next to her with a knowing eye. She wondered why picturing him doing the rape and face slice was so hard. Maybe they had the wrong guy in spite of Dostiene’s track record. “So, how often do you take a girl home from one of your casino visits?”

  Aaron laughed. He took a long sip of his drink. “I never take them home. When and if we jointly agree on more than just a drink, I accompany the lady to her room, where she feels more comfortable. Do you play any of the other casinos?”

  “I take a walk down the strip to the other casinos to stretch my legs. It’s fun walking up toward the main strip and playing the Riviera on the way to the Wynn’s. If I stay late at the main spots, I take a taxi back.”

  “That’s a long walk down to the Wynn’s,” Aaron pointed out. “There’s a lot of empty space in between here and the Riviera.”

  Lynn shrugged, and pointed at her medium heels. “It clears my head. I have my walkin’ shoes on. Like I said though, I usually take a cab back. How about you?”

  “I play here and Circus Circus on a night like tonight, depending on my luck. If I’m on a hot streak, I may go up to the casinos on the main strip. I’d better let you see how your luck at the slots will be tonight.” Aaron held out his hand, and Lynn shook it. “Very nice meeting you. Perhaps we can have a drink together tomorrow night.”

  “You never know. It’s good to meet a nice guy once in a while.”

  Aaron patted her hand. “Thank you, Lynn. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.” Lynn watched Aaron walk toward the exit. A rough looking guy with a dilapidated baseball cap and a worn brown leather bomber jacket sat down two stools over. He ordered a beer. Lynn sipped the second drink Aaron had bought her.

  “What’d you think about Aaron?” Dostiene’s voice whispered from next to her without looking over.

  Montoya chuckled, resisting the urge to glance over in surprise. “Damn, cowboy, you’re good at this.”

  Clint paid for his beer. He took a sip and kept his eyes on it. “You’d have made me in a moment more.”

  “I like Aaron. He seems like a nice guy. I trust you implicitly, but if Aaron’s a bad guy, he’s one of the best actors of all time. Am I missing something or have I been contaminated by your FBI playmates?”

  Clint nodded. “Maybe a little, baby. Remember the facts I explained. We don’t ignore all those coincidences, and let our suave and sophisticated Aaron tempt us into putting our rose colored glasses on. Where this investigation stuff runs off the rails is when we try to reason the whys when we don’t have a clue why. You hitting the slots now?”

  Lynn stood up, polishing off her drink. “Yep. You’ll be around in case I make the casino cry uncle, right?”

  “Indeed. Be sure I’m around if you leave for another casino. I know you have the tools to handle any run of the mill mugger, but I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

  “Understood.” Lynn shook her head, mentally admonishing herself for not picking up on Clint’s disguise immediately. She didn’t want to mention anything about second guessing him on her instincts about Aaron. I’ve been around the block a few times, CD, she thought with a grin. If Aaron’s a serial rapist, I’m Minnie Mouse.

  Walking with a deliberately paced sultriness very few women could pull off, Lynn made her way into a dollar slot cove, where she hesitated for a moment while studying the bank of slot machines. She felt eyes on her, as both male and female gamblers glanced at Montoya. Lynn reached her hand out as she glided up on the second machine from her right.

  “There’s my bitch!” Her exclamation elicited tittering laughter from other players within earshot. A waitress walking by stopped with suppressed laughter, and asked Lynn if she wanted a drink. “Sure. I’ll take a Long Island Iced Tea. If it tastes like one when it gets here, I’ll give you a twenty dollar tip.”

  “That’s very generous of you, but not necessary. I will make sure I give you one to your liking.” The casino server walked off and Lynn returned her attention to the slot machine.

  Lynn stroked the sides of the slot machine, her motions drawing the attention of everyone playing in the room. She swayed from side to side in a slow, provocative manner, as if it were a near religious convergence. Montoya then straightened and poked a finger at the slot machine surface window.

  “You will obey me!”

  Her modulated outburst elicited another round of appreciative laughter. After putting in a twenty dollar bill for machine credit, Lynn hit the max number of coins, which was three on the machine, and pulled the handle. She won five thousand dollars. Except for the oscillating winner machine whoops of glory, there was stunned silence in the dollar cove. Lynn could hear Dostiene laughing on their com unit.

  “Well… what do you know about that?”

  “You’ll need your photo ID, and social security number, Lynn. Lucky for you we took care of that before you decided to gamble. Hang tight, the attendant is approaching. This is great. If I have made an error in judgment, I should get a look at some other possible candidates.”

  Lynn looked around after hearing from Clint. A woman attendant approached and shook her hand.

  “Congratulations!” The woman with Mandy on her nametag said. “You may not be aware of this, but anything over an $1199 jackpot will require reporting. We make this as painless as possible. May I see a photo ID please, and I’ll need your social security number.”

  “Wonderful.”

  Twenty minutes later after producing the necessary documentation along with waiting for the machine to be inspected, Lynn had surveyed the people curious about her big win. She had her casino supplied tax form, winnings check, and the Long Island Iced Tea she’d ordered. After tasting it during the machine inspection and delays, Lynn tipped the waitress a hundred dollars, which made her very popular with the local staff. The attendant asked her to clear the machine, so Lynn pushed the max coin button, and pulled the lever rather than push the button. She won a $250 dollar jackpot, which surprised even the attendant.

  “I think this machine likes you,” Mandy told her as she paid Lynn in cash. “One more time before I walk away please.”

  Lynn repeated her winning formula, but this time came up empty. The small crowd watching the proceedings gave her a smattering of applause before drifting away. Sitting on her stool, Lynn sipped away at her drink, and fed money into the machine. After nearly an hour, she had only fed back fifty dollars, while sipping her way through a second Long Island Iced Tea. The second drink hit Lynn right down to her toes. Montoya stood up and walked a little unsteadily away from her machine, becoming more balanced with each step.

  “You need to get some food, baby. That ‘Long Tea’ high is distracting you.”

  “I’m feeling good, CD.

  Dostiene chuckled. “I’ll bet you do. Want to try a walk on the wild side right away?”

  Lynn walked toward the exit. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

  “There’s an excellent Denny’s restaurant up the road toward the Wynn’s. You can get some fresh air on the hike, get a good meal, and then break the bank at the Wynn’s.”

  “I like it! Want to eat with me
, or is it too obvious?”

  “If only I could. The fish are bitin’. We don’t want to jiggle the line and let them off now. After you eat and make Wynn’s cry, pick out a bar to have a drink at. I’ll sidle up next to you while we imbibe together.”

  “That’ll work too.”

  “Good. Stick around throwing in a little money while I take Tonto out for a stroll. I’ll find you in about half an hour and let you know I’m on your tail.”

  “Oh baby… I wish you were on my tail now.”

  Clint snorted. “Damn it Lynn, now I have to walk around with my hat in front of my crotch.”

  Montoya laughed while detouring to the quarter slot machines near the exit. She fed a twenty in before hitting a two hundred and fifty dollar pay off. She smiled at what happens in casinos when you don’t need money. Clint, in his rough persona, played a quarter slot machine near her before walking out the exit. Montoya played another couple of dollars without winning and left, walking out the main front entrance. She walked with a graceful glide toward the stoplight crossing that cannot be taught.

  The temperature in early September had cooled considerably with a slight breeze. Lynn walked in the direction of Wynn’s casino, breathing the cooling air with appreciation. Soon, she reached the section where a long high fence protected the construction project going on. It was very dark with little area to walk. When she reached a spot near the middle of the construction fence, even the faint light on the other side of the street cast very little illumination her way. More darkness than light continued on along the fence for quite a distance before the next active casino, The Riviera. She smiled, hearing Clint’s voice in her ear.

  “Man, you have one righteous walk. You have three nomads approaching. They just angled out of a spot one block up on your right. I don’t think they’re part of our problem, but they do seem interested in you. I can’t hold that against them.”

  “I see them, CD – not impressed. If they come on to me I’ll dissuade them on the down low. We can’t tell if my earlier date is following me, trying to get the lay of the road, so I won’t make a fuss.”

  “Define fuss,” Clint requested, his lips tightening.

  “Easy, buckaroo. I’ll be okay.”

  “I know you will. I’m coming up on them from behind. See me?”

  “Gee… you ruin everything,” Lynn pouted as she came abreast of the three men with hoodies and pants at thigh level. The one nearest her as she passed grabbed her wrist, twisting to come up in front of her.

  “Hi, baby doll. Where you headed?”

  “Up the road for a little food and more gambling,” Lynn answered as Clint came up quick and sudden behind the young men.

  “Hey lady, these young chumps bothering you?” Clint asked. “I can tell you sweethearts ain’t ever been in prison. When you wear your damn pants low like that in prison it means you want a soul train up the ass.”

  Montoya tried desperately not to laugh, but the snorting attempts turned into full blown laughter. When the one nearest Dostiene tried sucker punching him, he ducked back and smashed a side kick to the man’s knee. It gave out with a sickening crunch followed by a scream from its owner.

  “Best pick your boy up and move along, meat,” Clint advised, meeting the stunned looks of his victim’s cohorts with a steady gaze. “If you don’t, you’ll be joinin’ him. You feel me?”

  The two picked up their comrade, who had begun to sob. They retreated toward the block they came from with their friend hobbling between them. Lynn backed away from Dostiene in horror. He acted the part of a concerned citizen, but Lynn’s hand gestures and body language made it plain she did not want anything to do with him.

  “You hurt that poor kid!”

  “Sorry… I… never mind.” Clint walked in the direction of the Wynn’s, playing for any observer a real attempt to just get away.

  Only after a few moments of glancing in the three men’s direction and forward toward the Wynn’s did Lynn move. “Well damn! Now that was entertainment. You got somethin’ against the drop drawer look, Clint?”

  “I hate that shit,” Dostiene admitted. “Back on point, those jerks weren’t our target anyway. I think we played the innocent bystanders’ roles very well. Let’s proceed as planned. I didn’t want you marked up for our real target. We’ll compare notes in your room later.”

  For the first time Montoya took note. “Well then… you must like my choice of outfits.”

  “I sure as hell like the way you fill them.”

  “I’m getting into your mind, Ace. I have my butterfly knife. I could have showed them a few tricks and been on my way. You may have hurt that poor young pants dangling nitwit for nothing. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

  Clint chuckled. “Not hardly. How are you feeling?”

  “Hungry. This walk killed my buzz, and put food up into my head.”

  “Good. I’ll grab a bite at the Denny’s with you – not at the same table of course, but close. We can still talk to each other. I like being with you… a lot.”

  Montoya slowed, her mind racing around that admission. “Shit, Clint, why don’t we take the money we have and run? We could get a little place by the beach somewhere and go native.”

  “A couple of reasons, sweetie – we have needs. Those needs may not be what normal people have, but they’re just as distracting. We kill people, and it doesn’t bother us at all. We both have a sense of what’s right and wrong. We get off wasting bad guys. We’re an anomaly, Lynn. Money, beaches in the sun, not working – not interested. How about you?”

  Montoya snorted amusement before heaving a big sigh. “You’re right, CD. If we retired now together, we’d probably either kill a lot of people or each other.”

  “I wasn’t quite as pessimistic as that, but I did figure we might end up in prison.”

  Montoya began to reply, but slapped at her neck. She felt the dart. “Oh shi… it.”

  Dostiene spun around, running full out back toward Montoya’s last position, cursing himself with each step. He shed his feelings with every movement, steeling himself to think of nothing other than reaching her.

  * * *

  “Well… hell… Aaron,” Montoya whispered, looking up at the man who had grabbed her before she could fall. She fought the debilitating drug with all her will, pinching her leg hard, while moving her head rapidly, trying to fight off unconsciousness. Her attacker held her up against him as if trying to steady her.

  “Damn, Lynn,” the man said through clenched teeth. He grabbed her chin tightly, giving it a shake “That should have put you out cold already. I’m afraid you’re going to have an accident. Recognizing me is not in our plan. My friend’s not going to like this.”

  Lynn grabbed backward with her right hand, encasing the man’s crotch and squeezing with all the might she could muster. She giggled at his scream of agony. He pitched back away from her with both hitting the pavement hard. A black van screeched to a halt next to them, Edgar Constanza leaped from the driver’s seat, gun in hand, racing around the back of the van. Lynn struggled to stay conscious, reaching for her purse with numb, tingling fingers, smiling at the grainy blackness descending all too quickly.

  “Shoot that bitch!” Constanza’s partner yelled out while writhing on the ground, his hands at his groin.

  “I can’t shoot her out here, you stupid asshole!” Constanza reached down to the pawing Montoya a moment before his head exploded. The hollow point .45 caliber slug entered one side of his head, burst apart like a cannon ball, spraying skull and brain matter over his partner, followed by Constanza’s brainless corpse.

  Vehicles slowed as Dostiene ran up, glancing at the sparse but ever present strip traffic. He watched the man momentarily trapped under Constanza’s body, scramble away, coated in blood and brain matter while issuing a keening whine of a sound. Clint made sure the man could see the .45 automatic in his hand. With one hand still cradling his groin, the man used his free hand to make surrendering motions.


  “Don’t shoot! I give up!”

  Crouched between his target and Montoya, Dostiene didn’t see Lynn free the butterfly knife from her purse. She flipped it open with deliberate care, staring at the gesturing man across from her. With superhuman will, Montoya lurched past Clint onto her attacker, plunging the blade into his crotch to the hilt. The high pitched scream he emitted with helpless flailing arms ended as Lynn pulled the knife free, and buried it up into the man’s heart. Clint, at first reacted instinctively, reaching for Lynn, but had then stepped back, turning to watch for pedestrian traffic, grinning. He turned back as Montoya rolled weakly off the twitching body.

  Clint pulled out his iPhone, contacting Sam Reeves while holstering his weapon, and sitting down next to Lynn. He hugged her up against him, waiting for Reeves to answer. When he heard Reeves’ voice, Dostiene cut him off. “Sam! We have an officer down and two perps dead. Key into my GPS, and get the meat wagon and an ambulance here now.”

  “How… shit… okay, fifteen minutes.”

  Clint set the phone down, still connected to Reeves next to him. He cradled Montoya’s chin, watching her battle savagely against passing out. “It’s okay, baby. We got our scene airtight now with all the trimmings. Let it go. I’ll be with you every minute. That, my lady, was one very sweet wrap-up,” Clint whispered.

  Lynn sighed, her body relaxing against Dostiene as she lost consciousness. Clint spent the minutes until Reeves and Labrie arrived threading his story together. To their credit, the FBI agents beat the ambulance to them. Reeves reached Dostiene’s side first - weapon drawn with Labrie backing him up.

  “Are you hit?” Reeves asked, glancing around at the bloody scene.

  “No, but while Lynn played the bait, she got hit with a drugged dart. That’s how they’ve been doing this. She struggled long enough for the getaway van to get here. I came up on the scene as Lynn got her knife free with the guy’s partner running up on them from the van. He had a gun which he aimed at Lynn. I shot him, and Lynn managed to do his partner before passing out.”

  Labrie had been inspecting the bodies. She nodded over at Reeves. “They’re gone, Sam. I don’t suppose you have any way of tying the dead into the actual crimes, do you, Clint?”