The Gentlemans Club, the name really said it all. It was set up in rings: first, in the centre, was the stage with three scantily clad women dancing on it. The second ring was the bar. It was lined with entrepreneurs, lawyers, doctors and an assortment of made men. Women wearing slightly more clothing than the dancers were settled in between them. Continuing further, there were a couple of tables, where friends and colleagues discussed business. Further out were booths, for more private conversations.
In other words, it was a classic mob hangout.
Jason Bard stood at the door, his arms outstretched. He was being patted down by a regular bouncer, Paulie. The security guards at the Gentlemans Club were all familiar with Bard they made the best informants and knew he never carried a weapon on him. Nonetheless, they always searched him. Paulie smiled as he finished going through the pockets of Bards trenchcoat.
You really ought to carry a piece, Bard. Youre going to go up against the wrong fella one day and hell do you just like that. Paulie mimicked shooting Bard in the head.
Trouble with carrying a gun is, is that youre inevitably going to have use it, Paul.
No chance of a fistfight once they know you is carrying.
Exactly. Bard put his arms down and corrected his tie and shirt. Hed cleaned himself up since meeting Detective Bartlett, spending the afternoon looking up info on Sal Valestras organisation and people, making phone calls. It was close to midnight now, and according to his contacts, Metropolitan Sal would be in the back of the club now, running his business. Bard grinned at Paulie, shaking his hand as he passed him and slipping him a twenty.
Have a good night, chief, Paulie said.
You too, Paul, you too.
The private investigator passed the booths and the tables, where occasionally somebody would look up at him or look away quickly. The waitresses who caught his eye smiled and he returned the gesture. Bard moved passed them, alongside the bar and crossing the room. Standing in front of a door marked private were two men built like brick houses. The had their hands in front of them, their eyes set straight forward, their faces fixed.
Good evening, gentlemen.
The two looked down at Bard.
Im here to see Sal.
Whos Sal? one of them replied.
Bard chuckled.
Im not a cop, guys.
The two exchanged looks and returned to stare forward into the air.
Id like to see him. Sal, I mean, Bard tried again.
The guards looked back down again, one of them was sneering now.
Aint no Sal back there.
The private dick shook his head.
Then who is?
That aint none of your business.
To the astonishment of the guards, Bard raised his cane and knocked on the door. The one of the left grabbed hold of the stick quickly.
What do you think youre doing?
Knocking before I go in, its only polite.
The man grinned, his hand still on the cane. Get lost, guy.
Yeah, okay, youre right, Bard said as he made a motion to turn away. The man relaxed his grip on the walking stick accordingly, but Bard did not walk away. Instead he turned back, his good leg rising up fast to hit the guard between the legs. With his cane, he struck the other upside the head. The wood nearly snapped, the man fell to his knees.
Excuse me, Bard said as he opened the door and walked into the back room.
The first the private eye noticed as he came in, was that the window to the office was open. The second thing Bard noticed was that there wasnt a light on. The moon, peeking through the window, illuminated Salvadore Valestra sitting at a desk. He was scuffed up. The mafiosos jacket didnt fit right, his lip was a little swollen and he was sweating.
Mr. Valestra? Bard asked, stepping forward.
What do you want? the mans voice was raspy. He didnt seem at all concerned that Bard had been able to enter his office. The man didnt even ask for Bards name.
Im here about Gassy Mike.
Hes dead.
Thats why Im here.
Valestra shook his head, smiling. He winced somewhat as he did so.
I
The private eye thought he registered a single moment of hesitation as he saw Sal looking to the side before meeting Bards eyes. Im not telling you jack. Who the *&^% are you? Get the *&^% outta my office!
A knowing smile curled unto the detectives lips.
Right, right. Have a good night Mr. Valestra.
Just as Bard turned around, the two guards barged into the office.
Im sorry Mr. Valestra, one said, grimacing as he made a grab for Bard. The investigator smiled, raising his cane.
Let him go. Leave. The guards looked to their boss. Now.
The guards reluctantly took a step back.
Thank you, gents, Bard said as he walked out of the office, leaving the two guards to look towards their boss again.
Go! Valestra yelled and the two men left as well.