Bingo's Boys Episode two

Traffic was light, and in fifteen minutes or so we pulled up to Evergreen Downs. The building was old red brick, nicely maintained and landscaped. It was cordoned off with yellow tape, and a uniformed guy named Blanchette let us in. I knew him a little. Another cop led us up to 3G. It was small, maybe nine hundred square feet, but very well finished, with upscale furniture. There were two tiny bedrooms and a nice little kitchen, perfectly neat except for a dead blonde lying flat on her back next to the stove. She was wearing a flannel granny-style nightgown. The bed was turned back and looked to have been slept in. No sign of any struggle. Just that weird bullet hole in the crown of the skull, with a little dried blood around it. There was no stain of any kind on the floor or anywhere else.

The time of death would later be established at around three A.M. Four was probably closer. A small person, lightly clad, loses heat faster than the charts would indicate.

Bingo and I looked around. He knew enough not to touch anything, but was otherwise way out of his element. I sent him to the car for the camera, and when he got back I took pictures, maybe forty of them. Then I told the duty cop to call the morgue to haul off the body, and ordered a complete autopsy. It seemed a little pointless, but who knows? You might get lucky and learn something. I told the cop I particularly wanted blood alcohol and stomach contents.

Bingo took me home, and I called Buster on the way. I felt a lot better than I had half an hour ago. There’s nothing quite like a murder to clear the senses.

Buster had already started a detailed background check on Ms. Horton. She hailed from Illinois, and had spent twenty years or so in Vegas, hooking, dealing blackjack, and buying real estate. She had been married, for five years, to a casino flunky named Benton. She never took his name. Two kids came from the marriage. Annette is now thirty and living in Seattle. Works in sales for a small software house. Never married.

Ramona’s other offspring is a son, Charles Horton. Known around Reno as Chopper. Chopper has worked as an errand boy for the mob, and does some small-time independent book on the side. Mostly high school and college sports. He was always into drugs, first as consumer and then, on a small scale, as dealer. Just a bag here and there, to help support his habits. Chopper is a loser, and has gotten little or no financial help from his mother over the years.

Buster and I ended our conversation just as Bingo pulled up to my apartment. Buster agreed to stay off my back until the next morning. I had the flu, which was surprising in view of the substantial antitoxic powers of the seven or so gin and tonics I had enjoyed the night before at Mandalay Bay. When I was a kid we called that drink ‘Atomic Jim.’ The drinks were free and I only lost a hundred or so in the dollar slots. By Reno standards, a real bargain for a night out.

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