Steaks weren’t the only thing being grilled at dinner. Detective Gus Cobb was grilling me about dough I had spent... Hard earned dough I got by prying a rigged horse race from a low life living the high life above Los Amigos Bar and Grill. “I got the dough betting on a horse.” “Got more?” I frowned, Delong looked nervous. I reached into my coat, pulled out my YoCash. “Where’s the rest of it? Supposed to be 100k.” Cobb looked pleased. Me, not so much. “Told you, I bet on a horse. You followed me, you should have placed me at the cigar stand.” “I’m a busy man,” the cop said. “I didn’t wait for you to come out of Mrs. Fletcher’s. I coulda told you her husband was dead. How is she?” I frowned. Fran looked scared. I frowned some more. “Give him the dough,” I told Delong. He frowned. “Somebody’s loaded us up with hot money. It ain’t worth a fake nickel.” He reached into his coat, paused, looked at Tops. “Alright Fingers, hand it over.” She did her best to look offended. “You kidding?” “The man wants the money,” Delong punctuated each syllable by pointing at the copper. “He’s about as easy to convince as Zynga. It can be done but it takes about 30k people screaming for six weeks to do it. Give it to him now.” Gus smiled. She pulled her wad of YoCash from her tiny purse and tossed it in front of our local cop. “So, bet on a horse, eh? Where’d you get the $ to bet?” “Badd Bart, 500 Yocash.” “OK Sam, who booked the bet?” “A girl at the cigar stand in the Milano Hotel at the corner of Rong Way and Socio Path.” “OK, who paid you off?” “Gal name Boogerz at the deli, same building.” “Alright, let’s check. We’ll start with Boogerz & work back.”
Posted on: Thu, 06 Mar 2014 11:04:13 +0000
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