A Head Of The Game by David Hesse - HTML preview

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Chapter 23

I left Thelma at the bar with Jimmy “The Peanut” and headed to Rocco’s. I offered her a ride home but we both decided it was better if she left with The Peanut.

I was really intrigued with how I would get her out of that tight red dress without using some butter and the thought of that almost made me change my mind. Then I recalled those Italian loafers pushing my face into the carpet of that limousine so I decided to leave the butter in the refrigerator and leave the red dress dilemma for another day.

Anyway, I wanted to take in some of William Bennett’s act; anyone who had the balls to wear lime green pants and a bright yellow sport coat over a pink shirt in public and refer to himself as the Raja, had to be something else. He obviously didn’t have any shame to his game.

It was after ten so he would be singing and I wanted to hear for myself if he was as bad as Rocco said.

The Raja; where did he come up with that name?

Also, I didn’t want to be alone when I read through Sally Hammond’s diary. It made me feel dirty snooping in her private life. I knew my good friend Ralph Mills would be hanging out at Rocco’s tonight and nothing made him feel dirty. When his first wife caught him kissing another woman, with a straight face he said, “I wasn’t kissing her, I was whispering in her mouth.”

He was the perfect guy to join me to go through Sally Hammond’s diary. From what Thelma told me there was information in there that might lead us to her killer. I figured enough people have lost their heads due to some creep and it had to stop.

Now that I knew where Sally Hammonds worked I would ask Marcello to go there with me to see if we could shake down some information on her that might give us insight into her social life and who this “B.M.” character is. I bet he really is a shit.

Harry and Detective Williams felt that all the murders were done by the same guy. They didn’t get into the specifics why and I didn’t push them especially after EJ drew down on me at Mader’s the other night. If I learned anything that night, I learned never to get on the wrong side of a lady full of Jim Beam and totin’ a gun.