Killer Hand: Chapter 3
Writing by ScottOliver on Tuesday, 18 of November , 2008 at 12:22 am
Due to meet Amanda at seven for breakfast at the Showboat, Sully pushed through the revolving doors making his way outside. It was just after 6a.m when his feet hit the boards. With time to spare he decided to take a short stroll before hopping a jitney uptown. A warm shock of sunlight rose over Steel Pier. The cerulean sea, its waves cresting with effervescent brilliance shimmered with a reflection of the morning’s sunrise. The warm taste of salt lit upon his lips. Licking them he slipped on his shades adjusted his baseball cap and tightened his laces. September in Atlantic City is the gem of the calendar year, he thought. This was the perfect beginning to a killer Indian summer day. Not a superstitious gambler he still couldn’t help but to think that today luck was on his side. Maybe there would be more perfect days ahead for Atlantic City, too.
The convention bureau boasts that she’s ÒThe City that is Always Turned On”. But some folks would say the Òold girl” Atlantic City was nothing but a has-been, a three legged dog whose days of glory were behind her. But Sully was a faithful hound who loved a gal and that gal was Atlantic City.
Once an outpost for local Lenape Indian summer fishing villages and a start up for chicken farmers, Atlantic City was an unlikely destination for anyone who was fragile in nature or seeking a fortune. But Philadelphia speculators ran the railroad and brought hoards of weary city dwellers to her shores. Bathing in the Atlantic and departure from the ungodly temperatures of the urban cities made it a great escape. The guesthouses were modest but the fun was serious. Backroom gin mills, gambling parlors, boardwalk shower houses and the cities sweet summer breeze made Atlantic City a popular getaway for many generations.
This is my history, thought Sully. He’d always been a fan of the ÒWorld’s Playground.” She was steeped in history. Her tarnished, tattered past lent itself to being told. In Sully’s mind every turn in the city’s labyrinth provided content for a plot yet to be written. The drama and legacy of this little lady was fodder for fiction, especially detective fiction.
In his ruminations Sully envisioned the generations of conventioneers, vacationers, politicians and pageant beauties that had rambled by rail, air and road into this oceanfront town. He swore he could feel the spectre of Easter and Miss America pageant participants parading past him. He cringed when he heard the squeaking wheels of the rolling chairs and simultaneously salivated at the scent of funnel cake hanging in the air. He imagined he could hear the echoing sounds of Tommy Dorsey and Glenn Miller as they drove thousands to dance in the ballrooms of all the great hotels of yesteryear, the Traymore, the Haddon Hall and the Chalfonte. Lingering in the air of the city were the strains of jazz and the melancholy blues of Kentucky Avenue. It was said that the greatest names in entertainment had danced and sung in the great 500 Club. Closing his eyes Sully inhaled deeply and smelled the phantom smoke of 20’s crime boss, Nucky Johnson’s cigar.
This, his beloved Bally’s was once amongst the belles of the boardwalk. She was once the famed Dennis Hotel and the Marlborough Blenheim. She was once a princess. Built in 1920 she evolved from guesthouse to powerhouse. She was a spectacle of towers and minarets. A reading of the guest register was a litany of who’s who. The pageantry and family of the Miss America Pageant were also some her most loyal guests. One of the most regal properties of the boards resided where Bally’s now stands. Sully loved Atlantic City’s former grandeur. He marveled at its architectural and engineering enterprise. Sully knew that the Marlborough Blenheim Hotel, renovated in the 1920’s, was to become the first hotel in Atlantic City to offer hot and cold running saltwater in its guestrooms, considered a medicinal treatment of the time. She was also the first hotel ever fireproofed, saving her from fiery disaster. Sully remembered too, that Thomas Edison, one of the great American inventors had a tie to this lovely lady. His company had provided the cement for its boardwalk fa?ade. Departing a poker tournament the preceding spring Sully was amazed to witness Bally’s unveiling of a 60 million dollar renovation of its sister property the Dennis: a guest wing of Bally’s boasting a 1920 French Chateau inspired fa?ade with 400 rooms.
Where else could you have such incongruity thought Sully? Bally’s was like a cowboy and beauty queen in juxtaposition. The Wild West with her frontier theme complete with talking rattlesnakes, a general store, and a dance hall, and nestled next door the Dennis, a regal lady with a parasol.
Sully made a left down the boardwalk ramp and hoofed it to the corner of Illinois and Pacific. He could have walked the short distance to Showboat but riding a Jitney, the small buses that run routes through AC, was an experience like no other. Mainly accessing the casinos along Pacific Avenue and in the marina district as well as the bus and train terminals, jitneys cost $2.00 for a one-way fare. His mom had told him that the name jitney is an old Jewish term for nickel (five cents), which was the original fare.
Sully liked people-watching on the boardwalk. You couldn’t ask for a better cast of characters. He surveyed the casino employees, gamblers and the cities residents’ alike as they piled aboard for the frantic ride. He smiled as he observed the working girls still out parading their wares on the avenue. Vice cruised by shouting ÒBreak it up ladies” as the street pharmacists folded into the darkened alleys. Sully glanced out the window as the church doors of St. Nick’s swept open to the Sunday faithful. The cops shooed away homeless sleeping on the stairs, casting them off like unwanted pigeons. Drawing in a deep breath, Sully pulled on his headphones and cranked up the volume on his iPod. He leaned back into his seat and with a white-knuckled grip he held tight to the safety bar. Jitney rides could produce the same heart-pounding, sweaty-palms experience as a Wildwood rollercoaster.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ÒTable for two . . . right this way, sir,” chirped the hostess. Sully smiled to himself. Her bubbly demeanor and welcoming smile were slightly contagious. As he followed the hostess across the dining room floor, it was her long brown ponytail swinging with a vengeance that really tickled him.
Stopping at a table on the edge of the room, the hostess set the menus down and happily announced, ÒHere you are, sir. Your server will be Tara. She’ll be with you in just a minute. Enjoy your meal!”
Before Sully could take his seat and say, ÒThank you,” the ponytail was already swinging furiously toward the small morning crowd forming at the door. Picking up a menu, Sully couldn’t help thinking, ÒI guess you have to have that kind of energy to work in this city.”
Moments later, a man’s hand smashed Sully’s menu to the table, a surprise punctuated by devious laughter.
ÒYou’re an ass,” was Sully’s annoyed response. Dressed in tan khakis, a heavy black sweater, black Kangol cap, and his signature Stacy Adams, Alan looked nothing like the blond, pink sequined Miss Texas from the night before.
ÒThanks, nice to see you, too.” Alan slid into the booth across from Sully. ÒI couldn’t resist, though. You were staring at that menu like it owed you money.”
ÒWhatever, man. There’s a million folks out of work, and you want to be a comedian. I still say all your jokes are corny. Always have been. Stick to insurance.”
ÒSpeaking of day jobs, how’s the book coming? You haven’t bugged me to read over any chapters in a while. What’s up?”
Just as Sully started to answer, the waitress came to the table. She took their beverage order and gave Alan a few more minutes to decide what he felt like eating. Knowing it would take Alan more than a few minutes to complete his ritualistic risk assessment of each menu item, Sully tried to ignore his grumbling stomach and appreciate The Mansion’s atmosphere. The CafŽ had filled up quickly since he’d arrived. Sully scanned the tables of senior citizens, foreign tourists, and working folk, but rested his gaze on the large tree in the midst of the dining room. The inside of the CafŽ was designed to look and feel like an outdoor cafŽ, which was part of the reason why Sully liked eating there. The ceiling was a stunning blue sky with perfect white clouds. The lighting and dŽcor gave off a soft, golden hue, like artificial sunshine minus the heat.
The summer feel of the dining room and Alan’s inquiry about his current writing project made Sully think of Stockton College and how many summers he’d spent on campus in recent years. Back in his teaching days, Sully always took at least one writing course in the summer in addition to the number of professional requirements he would complete over the vacation break. The past few summers, however, Sully went a different route. After deciding to pursue a career as detective fiction writer, Sully began taking criminal justice and psychology courses instead of his usual education courses. Aware of Sully’s history of working with kids, one of his criminal justice professors asked if he’d be interested in helping out with Stockton’s CSI summer camp. Sully was all over that opportunity. The hands on experience of learning how to look for clues at a crime scene proved to be a much more productive method of genre research than watching reruns of Law & Order and CSI: Miami.
ÒWhere’s our waitress? I’m starvin’ like Marvin,” complained Alan.
ÒYeah? Join the club. It’s about time you made a decision. You always take forever. I should’ve gone ahead and ordered as soon as I got here, before it got busy. It’s packed in here now,” Sully remarked.
ÒAll right, all rightÉ Quit your crying. Here she comes.” Alan ordered a large orange juice, French toast, with powdered sugar instead of whipped cream, two fried eggs, a side of ham and candied apples. Sully opted for coffee, a western omelet with cheese, buttermilk pancakes, with extra whipped cream, and two orders of bacon. Once the waitress disappeared, Sully brought Alan up to speed on the recent Òfieldwork” he’d been conducting in preparation for the novel. Alan listened intently, later suggesting that Sully find out if the Atlantic City Police Department still maintained its volunteer program for people interested in aspects of law enforcement.
ÒThanks. I’ll definitely look into that. So how was the after party?” Sully inquired.
ÒOh, it was fierce,” snapped Alan, in the voice of Amanda. Both men laughed at the private joke. ÒBut for real,” resumed Alan in his normal voice, Òit was wild. A group of producers rented out a couple of those Moroccan suites for the party. They had a DJ booth and dance floor set up in one suite, a complete full service bar in another, and chafing dishes full of every food imaginable all over the damn place. The divas did everything in excess last nightÉand I’ll leave it at that. So how was your night after the show?”
ÒNothing spectacular to report, I’m afraid.” Sully paused a moment, reviewing the evening’s events in his head. ÒWell, nothing spectacular happened, but there were two out of the ordinary events. I was on my way to the game when I saw this poor waitress flip a tray of drinks. It wouldn’t have been that big a deal, except this guy comes over and starts yelling at the waitress. I heard him tell her that she was too fat to work the floor. I thought he had to be crazy, I mean, she was looking pretty good from where I was standing. She was tallÉnice shape, sexy red hairÉ”
Alan cocked his head to the side, like one of the Magnavox dogs, before asking, ÒDid you catch her name, by chance?”
ÒActually, she asked for my name and my number. She forgot to give me hers, but I heard the pit boss call her Jade.”
Alan leaned back in his chair with a smug grin on his face. Sully, noting the change in his friend’s expression and body language, suddenly felt defensive.
ÒWhat?” he challenged.
ÒNothing. I just know her.” Sensing Sully’s heightened sense of curiosity, Alan explained, ÒHer last name is Neville. I met her in one of my sewing classes a few years back. We kept running into one another so we decided to just keep in touch. She’s good people. She was cool with me from the start. A lot of the other women in that class, especially the older women, they kinda kept their distance from me. They thought it was strange for a man to want to learn how to sew. Go figure, right?”
Sully smiled knowingly, hoping Alan would tell him more about the girl. And his friend did not disappoint. Apparently, Alan/Amanda and Jade had been meeting for lunch at least once a month for quite some time now. Alan knew Jade pretty well. Just as Sully was about to ask if Jade was seeing someone, Alan’s phone rang. Judging from the strange look on Alan’s face, Sully motioned for Alan to go ahead and take the call. Sully was too preoccupied with his stomach growls to listen in on the conversation. He was not one to jump in another man’s Kool-Aid without knowing the flavor. Nevertheless, a few key words definitely caught Sully’s attention.
ÒHe’s dead?” quizzed Alan.
There was a very long pause, then, ÒWait a minute. How’d you find out all that?”
Alan chuckled into the phone before releasing a comprehensive ÒOooooohhhh.”
Sully was now thoroughly intrigued. The waitress had brought their food while some mystery was unfolding on Alan’s cell phone. Although he was famished, Sully did not touch his food. He was too busy waiting for Alan to finish the call so he could ask what had happened.
Before Alan could reach to slide his blackberry back into its case, Sully erupted, ÒWho’s dead? What was that all about?”
ÒOne of the girls from the pageant called to tell me that one of the judges was found dead this morning,” said Alan, still in a state of disbelief. ÒRex Diamond, that old rock star guy. They found him on the floor half dressed, near a broken chair and shattered glass. He was pretty banged up, but there were liquor bottles everywhere. Basically, it’s anybody’s guess what happened up there last night.”
Something jumped in Sully’s chest. ÒHe was at the poker game last night. He was sitting in my lucky seat.” He paused before asking, ÒWho found him?”
ÒRoom service. The guy that found him is a friend of a friend, if you know what I mean.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sully nixed the jitney ride back to Bally’s, figured he’d walk off breakfast on the boards and check out the scenery along the way. He was hoping the cool breeze would clear his head. He was preoccupied by the news Alan had shared at the breakfast table, trying to piece together what had happened at the poker table last night, remembering the faces, the atmosphere, and to count how many drinks Rex Diamond had downed before leaving the table with the stripper. He knew that Rex had lost a lot at the table, so he was trying to figure out what that chick’s angle had been when she left with him.
As he walked, he saw a guitar player, crooning a tune of one of Rex’s band Venom’s songs from years ago. Also along the way, there were bicyclers getting their morning exercise; elderly couples were riding double-seated; moms and dads were riding their children in the child/buggy seats. The pros rode as if they were in competition. Runners ran near the edges of the boardwalk, their bright spandex tights showcasing their muscles.
Nearing the doors of Bally’s, Sully suddenly felt tired. The food and the walk coupled with the fact that he hadn’t gotten more than ninety minutes of sleep after the poker game had worn him out. Giving more thought to Rex’s death as he entered the hotel he saw Willie Walden, an old friend from his karate dojo now working surveillance at Bally’s.
ÒHey, Willie, how you doing? You in on this Rex Diamond thing?”
ÒI heard about it when I got in this morning. Apparently, he was found by one of the room service attendants. How did you hear about it.”
ÒAlan heard from someone here while we were at breakfast. You know, Willie, I was at a poker game with Rex Diamond last night.”
ÒNo kidding! Did you see anything unusual?”
ÒWell, I can say that he sat in my lucky chair, but he ended up not so lucky. He put away quite a few shots and caught some grave looks for some drunken obscenities he was spitting out from one of the ladies at the table. The woman came in with some other guy, and she was all over him, but she kept giving Diamond some pretty meaningful looks, too. Then she got bored and left by herself.”
ÒHey, you should talk to the cops about this. You notice anything else?”
ÒWell, Rex lost big and he was so drunk, he could barely stand by the time he left with some Lady-Luck Stripper. She practically had to carry him out of the room. I didn’t really notice much else. I’m going up to my room now to get some shut-eye. I didn’t get much sleep last night. You can tell the cops where they can find me.” Sully headed toward the elevator up to his room.
He ended up not getting much rest. He couldn’t stop thinking about Rex’s death, and when he did drift off he dreamt about the events of the night before. He dreamed he was in Rex’s room and had thrown the stripper a bottle of Dewar’s, which she broke on Rex’s face for disrespecting her. Then she changed into the woman who’d made eyes at Rex and began to sing the song that he’d heard the guitarist playing on the boardwalk. He tried to leave the room to get some help, but he couldn’t find the door. He was just beginning to panic when the phone rang, jolting him out of his dream. It was Willie; the police were in the Rex’s room and wanted to talk to Sully about the poker game.
Sully got up and splashed some cold water on his face to regroup. He met Willie outside Rex’s room, where CSI and Atlantic City’s finest were photographing the crime scene and cataloging evidence. Beyond the yellow tape, he could see female undergarments in the bed and shattered glass on the floor. Peeking into the room, he could see the bathroom mirror reflected in the mirrored closet door. ÒYOU PIG!” had been written in lipstick. A cop came out to talk to him and he reiterated the facts that he’d told Willie earlier, adding the names of the people he knew at the table and descriptions of the people he didn’t know. He promised to be available for further info; the cops wanted to examine the poker room later that day.
As the cop went back into Rex’s room to talk to the CSI folk and Sully turned to leave, he noticed something small glittering on the floor near the corner of the doorframe. He was surprised to see that it wasn’t a piece of broken glass but a rhinestone.
Category: Killer Hand
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