More Vegas Weirdness
The left handed cop had horrible handwriting. He scribbled down in his notebook a couple of things that I told him about the early morning shouting sessions and slap fights from the trouble-makers next door. Earlier this morning I was not woken up by my screaming neighbors. Instead there was a Las Vegas Metro police officer knocking loudly on my front door. He wanted the skinny on my neighbors.
"Does this have anything to do with the shooting yesterday?" I asked.
He ignored my question. I heard rumors that someone was shot in an adjacent building unit. Supposedly it was a drug deal gone bad and a trigger-happy speed freak shot up the place. His getaway vehicle was a bicycle that he stole from one of the hundreds of mullet-clad redneck kids who populated the complex. At least that what's the old lady in the wheelchair told me. Agnes lived at the end of the hall and spit sunflower seeds out her window. She had one glass eye and was the Redneck Riviera's version of the National Inquirer. She had been pumping me for information about myself. I told her nothing. Less is more. Especially in Las Vegas.
In my walk over to grab a Gatorade and a donut at the am/pm, I spotted Agnes in her usual spot. I told her about my morning wake up call from the police. That when she spilled the beans. The guy next door to me beat the shit out of one of his girlfriend's kids. This all went down while I was covering the Pot-Limit Hold'em final table yesterday afternoon. When the girlfriend confronted him, he wigged out and broke her jaw. He quickly took off by stealing her car. He hasn't been seen since. On my way back to my room I noticed that two maids and the assistant manager were cleaning out the room. They were hauling out garbage in several huge trash bags and wiping down the walls.