Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Nevada 1979 1
2
3
New York 1961 4
5
Chicago 1949 6
7
New York 1962 8
9
10
Korea 1950 11
12
Atlantic City 1979 13
14
15
Baltimore 1956 16
17
18
Chicago 1963 19
20
21
Boston 1977 22
23
Houston 1965 24
25
26
New York 1969 27
28
Seattle 1975 29
30
San Francisco 1979 31
32
33
Los Angeles 1951 34
35
36
New York 1978 37
38
39
Los Angeles 1953 40
41
42
Baltimore 1968 43
44
Houston 1979 45
46
Florida 1999 47
Addendum
Sneak Preview
Also By The Same Author
About The Author
The Case
by
Leopold Borstinski
Text copyright © 2018 by Leopold Borstinski
Published by Sobriety Press
Cover design by James, GoOnWrite.com
Text decorations designed by macrovector / Freepik
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The right of Leopold Borstinski to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. Published by Sobriety Press. No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. For information regarding permission, contact [email protected].
ISBN 978 1 9997705 6 3 Kindle Edition
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For more information please visit LeopoldBorstinski.com
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PART ONE
NEVADA 1979
1
YOU COULD SAY this all began twenty years ago when I stepped off the plane. She stood there at the foot of the steps, her strapless black ball gown fluttering in the breeze. Just before then, I’d been in Vegas for a couple of days paid break to take photos for Eliza Rothstein, a jealous broad obsessed with the belief that her husband, Aaron, was shtupping a call girl from out of town. I told her not to worry and I’d check things out. Two hundred dollars a day plus expenses. Rothstein was rich and I knew I could get away with it. The thought I was taking Aaron’s dough to break up his marriage didn’t cross my mind. Besides, I knew Aaron wasn’t shtupping a call girl.
He was shtupping Rachel, Eliza’s closest friend, but I wanted a holiday and Aaron had taken Rachel to play the wheels in Vegas. So I came along for the ride. Aaron had set up a cozy apartment on the upper east side for the two of them, overlooking the park. If I hadn’t wanted a holiday so bad, I’d have rented a place on the west side and used a telephoto lens. The case would have been that simple. Aaron was shrewd in business - he owned enough water utilities to drown the nation - but he let his dick do the walking whenever a blonde with big blue eyes and breasts to match came into his line of vision. And anyway, Rachel and Aaron were the worst kept secret in Manhattan. But Eliza was so dumb, she didn’t understand why the guy who collected her trash was called Giuseppe. So I took the greenbacks and headed west.
Vegas is the only town where hookers and Frank Sinatra both feel at home, only they’re surrounded by a million wannabes, hoping the next spin of the wheel will give them the big break. I didn’t mind visiting it for a few days, but after a couple of weeks I missed the sun so bad my ulcer started playing up.
Aaron’s money meant he could afford to stay at the Tropicana, the swankiest joint in Vegas. I was on expenses so I took a room on the fifteenth floor. By the time I arrived at reception, Aaron and Rachel were already tucked up for the night, so I wandered around the casino for some relaxation. I knew I wasn’t going to bump into them because Aaron hadn’t flown over here for the wheels, if you see what I mean. He was after some silky sheet action rather than blackjack and watered down Budweiser.
Anyway, I checked out the poker tables and watched a drunk lose his shirt at the wheel. Jeez, I could tell he was a loser from the moment I saw him. The lush was playing with his chips like a kid plays with his food. His first time at the wheel. Even the green baize felt his virginity every time he put the fifty buck chips on it. Pathetic. The kind of guy that gives a casino a bad name. And that’s saying something.
After a couple of hours, I’d drunk enough vodka to knock out the ghosts and stumbled back to my room, number 1526. As soon as I put my head to the pillow, I was out until morning. By the time my eyes opened, the maid had already tried to clean my room. Fumbling for my watch, I saw it was half ten. I slouched out of bed and bumped into the shower. The water woke me up; I shaved and headed straight for reception.
THE FIRST TRICK was to find their room and figure out how to get some evidence without taking a photo of them in the sack. As much as I liked Aaron, I had no real desire to see his dick in action. And besides, I didn’t want to put Eliza through the pain of seeing her husband sticking it into her best friend. A lighter touch was needed here.
Aaron was a schmuck with broads and I did the only bit of gambling my whole stay in Vegas. I walked up to reception and asked which room Mr and Mrs Rothstein were staying in. Only Aaron would have been so stupid to use his real name. He probably paid for the hotel on one of his credit cards too. Aaron truly was that careless. Sure enough, the honeymoon couple were in the bridal suite. I smiled, said thank you to the big-breasted grin that gave me this information, tipped my hat and ambled into the dining room for breakfast. They’d either still be in their room making whoopee or they would have got up early to get a breath of fresh air on the streets before their next session. I was right.
My breakfast always consists of the same thing. Glass of orange juice, eggs sunny side up, two slices of granary toast and a cup of strong coffee-no-milk to wash it down with. Today was no exception. By the time I saw the bottom of my cup, I was alone in the breakfast room. In Vegas, you go to sleep at six in the morning and breakfast is a burger at the bar before you start playing again.
I tilted back the cup to swallow the last dregs. A few granules caught the back of my throat and I began to choke. Aaron and Rachel entered the room: I didn’t know them as well as I thought. If I hadn’t been choking, I might have had a chance of hiding behind my Vegas Tribune, but I was out of luck.
When he first saw me Aaron’s face would have been great to describe, but I was banging my fist on the table in the vain hope of stopping myself from choking. Besides, by the time he arrived at my table he was f
uming.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Jake?” His tone of voice told me he wasn’t pleased. I looked him straight in the eye, once my coughing fit had ended. “If I told you I was on vacation, would you believe me?” He glared at me for a couple of seconds and fumed some more. “Are you spying on me?” Aaron had grasped the situation in a matter of minutes. He impressed me - or I would have been impressed if by this time he hadn’t got his hand around my throat.
INSTINCTIVELY I LUNGED out, catching him in the groin. Shame. I was aiming for his solar plexus. It did the trick. Aaron landed on the floor, having whipped his hand off my throat and onto his dick. This was not the way I planned it to happen. I now had to deal with Aaron writhing on the ground at my feet and Rachel, the love of his life, rushing over to find out why her gold mine was on the floor. Until now, she had stayed by the entrance.
“Sorry Aaron. It was an instinct thing, y’know?” I didn’t expect an answer and none came, unless you count a muffled wheeze. “My dearest. What has he done to you?” Even when Rachel is having an adulterous relationship, she still maintains her upper east side accent. What a gal. I admire that in a woman and my own dick started to itch. There was something about her. Her perfume, the way her Italian dress kissed her body. I stopped looking at Aaron and turned my attention to Rachel. Tipping my hat, I said: “I’m Jack Adkins, but my friends call me Jake.”
“Well Mister Kiss-ass, I’m calling the cops. You’ve just assaulted Mr Rothstein and I saw it all.”
“The name’s Adkins. A-d-k-i-n-s. And you can call the cops, but Aaron won’t press charges. Right Aaron?” The wheeze on the floor nodded in agreement. Rachel’s forehead furrowed. “You’ve met this ape?”
“Jake’s a friend. It’s OK.” Aaron rasped. Rachel’s head flipped between me and Aaron. Like most broads she didn’t get it. “It was an instinct thing,” Aaron added by way of explanation.
Rachel slumped into a chair at a neighboring table. Her head nestling in her hands. I could see why Aaron had fallen for her. Eliza’s beautiful in a classic sense, but this kid had sex written all over her body. Tattooed across her hips were the words ‘ball me’. Word about town was that only two men had: a millionaire Texan named Hank Something, who had made his money out of elastic bands and her childhood sweetheart, Maurice. He was the first but couldn’t satisfy her appetite ... for greenbacks. Aaron made three. He had everything Rachel wanted: a big bank balance and a dick to match. I felt sorry for him. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: he’s smart, but he ain’t got smarts.
Aaron picked himself off the floor and stood to his full height of five foot nine. His jacket had fallen open and, as he did it up, I could see he was carrying a piece, but didn’t let it show.
“I suppose you’re wondering what’s going on?” Aaron had regained his composure and was trying to gain control of the situation. “Yep,” I replied, not knowing whether he meant what he and Rachel were doing in the city of dreams or what the Colt was doing stuck in his waistband.
“It’s like this, see? There’s nothing going on for you to worry about, OK? Nothing you need to worry Eliza about. Rachel wanted to check out the tables in Vegas ‘cause she’d never been before and I said I’d show her the sights. OK?”
“Right. And I’m Abe Lincoln I s’pose?”
“Don’t get sarcastic with me, Jake. There’s nothing going on. Nothing. If you go back to the city and tell Eliza anything, I’ll see that they revoke your license.”
“If there’s nothing going on, why are you threatening me?” It seemed like the right thing to say at the time, but thinking back I should have kept my mouth shut. Aaron leaned back to throw a punch at me and, just at that moment, a bullet whizzed past his head, missing him by less than an inch. I hit the deck, throwing Aaron down with me. I rolled over and dragged Rachel to the floor, covering her body with mine. Jeez, this was supposed to be a simple case of wandering dick. By now, Aaron had taken his gun out and was pointing it at the breakfast room entrance. The snub-nose quivered in his shaking hand.
And that was that. Waiters ran into the room after a couple of minutes. Aaron tried firing at them, but the arsehole had left the safety on. Lucky really, otherwise he’d have been looking at ten to twenty. The maitre d’ called the cops and they took us taken to the station.
2
LIEUTENANT RODRIGUEZ WAS not the brightest man in uniform. Which is saying something. He had been promoted to increase the number of racial minorities of senior rank. Me? I don’t care what color a man’s skin is. A wop cop’s still a cop to me. I told him the three of us were visiting Las Vegas together and that we couldn’t see where the shot came from or who fired it. Aaron had to hand over his snub-nose, but that was no bad thing. He had already shown that when it was needed, he might as well hold his dick in his hand. Aaron promised to make a payment to the Police Benevolent Fund and we walked out of the station in under five hours. A personal best. Aaron didn’t see it that way.
When we got back to the hotel, Rachel was all set for heading back east on the next plane out of town, but Aaron was having none of it and we headed straight for the bar: “The guy must have been a crackpot. It could have been a champagne cork popping. Or anything.”
“That doesn’t explain the bullet lodged in the wall, does it?” I countered, fuelling Rachel’s desire to head home. Aaron stared at me as if to say: “Shut up about the goddamn slug. You don’t think I don’t know it was a slug?”
There’s a time to speak and a time to be silent. This was one of those times. Rachel went to powder her nose. Aaron ordered a dry vodka martini straight up with a twist for her, a scotch on the rocks for himself and a double vodka on the rocks for me. Aaron checked toward the ladies bathroom and said: “I don’t want to talk about it, OK? We’ll have to deal with this when I get back to New York. When are you leaving?”
I sighed and whispered between my teeth: “I’m not going back just yet. First, you know why I’m here and we’re going to have to deal with that before you get back to the city. Before she comes back from the john. Second, you’d better tell me why you were carrying a piece and who was trying to kill you. That can wait a couple of hours.”
Aaron’s eyes looked at the john again. Without looking back at me, he spoke: “Eliza would’ve found out sooner or later. Now it can be sooner. Rachel’s got a great ass and she makes me happy. We laugh, y’know. Eliza’s a pain and she makes me cry. What choice is that for a man of my age? What?”
“And the rest?” I hadn’t bought that story, but I wanted to cut to the chase before Rachel had a chance to adjust her panty hose.
“There is no ‘rest’. Anything else is my business, not yours. I love you Jake, but don’t go sniffing round in my affairs. I’m warning you, understand?” Aaron turned his head to face mine. “As one friend to another.”
Then his face turned to a smile. I could smell Rachel behind me as she walked past, placing her arm around Aaron’s neck. “Darling, I’ve had enough of Vegas, why don’t we go home now?”
“No, we’re here for a vacation and we’re gonna have a fuckin’ vacation. Right?”
“Jake, tell him. I’m scared. I want to go home.” Her pouting lips made me want to sink my tongue in her mouth. She was putting on her little girl act. If it wasn’t working on Aaron, it sure as hell was working on me. But I knew that whatever reason Aaron actually came to Vegas for, he hadn’t got it nailed yet and there was no use arguing with him.
“Sorry, babe. No can do. Besides, Aaron knows best.” I lied, hoping that she’d buy it. She took a sip of her martini and it calmed her down. “I’m going to bed. You coming?” she asked Aaron while looking at me.
“Not just yet, I’ll be up in five. There’s something I want to say to Jake first.”
“OK honey, don’t be too long.”
“I won’t.” Aaron patted her butt as she turned to walk out of the bar. I hadn’t checked it out until then. Those buns were firm and round. Man, I wanted a piece of that.
>
AARON WAITED UNTIL Rachel was out of ear shot. “Jake, I’ve got some business to take care of tomorrow. Will you look after Rachel for me while I’m gone?”
“Sure. But you do understand we’ve got some talking to do, don’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah, but right now there’s a great piece of ass waiting for me in my room and I’m not gonna disappoint her.” Aaron stood up and ran across the bar. Who could blame him? If I’d been in his loafers, I’d have done the same thing.
I stayed at the bar and finished my drink. Two hours later I stumbled out of the bar, still thinking about Rachel. I was feeling horny, but all the hookers at the Tropicana were old enough to be my mother. And I didn’t want to fuck my mother. So I shimmied back to my room and fell asleep.
By the time I woke up the next morning, Aaron had already left the hotel and Rachel gave me a wake up call.
“What time is it?” I asked, having fumbled the receiver onto the floor, picked it up and slammed it against my ear.
“Half nine. Aaron said you’d look after me today.”
“Yep, sure did.” My mind, still half asleep, started to think up all sorts of ways I’d like to look after that woman. Most of them didn’t involve my moving from the bed; those that did involved a kitchen table and a pat of butter. “Have you had breakfast yet?” I asked. “A little toast with Aaron about an hour ago.”
The Case Page 1