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    Agent Down: A Detective Macaulay Homicide Case
    Agent Down: A Detective Macaulay Homicide Case
    Agent Down: A Detective Macaulay Homicide Case
    Ebook129 pages1 hour

    Agent Down: A Detective Macaulay Homicide Case

    By Ruby Binns-Cagney

    ()

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    About this ebook

    First Shot. Second Chance. Last Hope.

    Always bet on black.

    In Las Vegas, at the Treasure Island Hotel and Casino on the Strip,
    Stanley Tulloch was about to have a bad day.

    He just stepped out on his lady with a younger broad, and now the broad is dead.

    Stanley is in the frame for the broad's murder, and he has no alibi.
    Everything changes in a spin of the dice.

    NYPD's Detective Sergeant Finkel Macaulay flies to Las Vegas on a mission to help an old love solve his wife's disappearance, off-book.

    When the murderer catches Macaulay's scent in Vegas, the body count increases and Macaulay has to choose between escape or going back to her troubled marriage.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBinnsCagneyPublishing Co
    Release dateSep 19, 2013
    ISBN9781301590117
    Agent Down: A Detective Macaulay Homicide Case
    Author

    Ruby Binns-Cagney

    Keep in touch - sign up for new releases and save on publication day:http://books2read.com/author/ruby-binns-cagney/subscribe/1/41373/Ruby Binns-Cagney is a successful independently published Author who writes women's fiction (chick-lit) and American-based crime thrillers.Ruby's 'Detective Macaulay' crime series has a following on Twitter https://www.twitter.com/detmacaulay (@DetMacaulay)Ruby has a website and blog - read more details of her publishing services.Through her publishing company - BinnsCagneyPublishing Co - Ruby empowers others to become self-published Authors, and her Team also mentor new Authors.Free Marketing Help Signup:http://eepurl.com/3IsJPAdd her to your Google+ Circles https://plus.google.com/+RubyBinnsCagney/postsPlease visit her website:http://author-tales-of-self-publishing-books.blogspot.co.uk

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      Book preview

      Agent Down - Ruby Binns-Cagney

      Agent

      Down

      A Detective Macaulay Homicide Case

      Ruby Binns-Cagney

      Copyright © 2013 Ruby Binns-Cagney

      All rights reserved.

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Ruby Binns-Cagney has asserted her right under the Copyright Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

      This is a work of fiction. The names and characters are the products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

      Copyright © 2013 Cover Image BinnsCagneyDesign Co

      Copyright © 2013 Ruby Binns-Cagney

      Table of Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      About The Author

      1

      LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

      Stacey, baby, that feels so good, Stanley Tulloch said. She sucked on his balls and made them slip inside her warm slippery wet mouth. He felt like he would come if she didn't stop soon. She murmured against his vibrating flesh.

      That tickles. Stop for a minute baby. Stacey did not stop. If anything, she became hungrier for him, and sucked the tip of his black cock hard and fast until he ejaculated into her mouth. He sucked his teeth in exasperation when he came.

      Damn, girl. You're so hot tonight. Fuck! Stanley pulled his long black cock out of her mouth and rolled back against the cool bed covers.

      The two lay silently in the wide expanse of the hotel bed. Stacey fell asleep, her arm draped over his torso. He moved her arm.

      She was incredibly soft. All over. Her skin had a sheen to it. She had a golden honey hue to her toned body. He felt his cock begin to harder as she lay with her back to him. He snorted two lines of cocaine off the nightstand next to his weapon. A Glock with a 22 caliber.

      He savored the last remaining minutes with her until they would have to separate. Go back to reality. She had a fine ass. Wished he could tap it some more. He was out of time.

      I have to go, honey, he said, and turned so his back was to her. Put on his pants. Stood and jumped into his shoes and pushed his shirt down deep inside his pants. Checked the fly was closed. He headed to the bathroom to wash up quickly.

      Same time next week, baby? Stacey called out, and slipped the stack of dollar bills on the nightstand inside her purse underneath her pillow. She sat upright in the bed and adjusted her bra. Smoothed her hair.

      Absolutely. Wouldn't miss this for the world, Stanley said.

      In the artificial light inside the windowless compact-sized bathroom he checked his face for lipstick marks. Ran the faucet and washed his hands, face and mouth. Washed off any trace of her from his smooth dark skin. He could still taste the sweetness of her pussy juices against his lips. He rinsed his face again. Captured the memory in his fantasy rolodex. Locked that shit up tight in there.

      He looked in on her before he turned the door handle to leave the hotel room. She was asleep, and lay motionless in the bed. He stepped into the hallway and closed the room door. Room 7007 at the Treasure Island Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas Boulevard. The Strip, as they call it.

      He had gone to Las Vegas on a whim. He was on a case, and it had gone cold. There was little he could do to resurrect it. He chose instead to blow some cash the only way he knew how. Women. Gambling. Liquor. In that order.

      Stanley Tulloch worked as a Private Detective. An-Ex NYPD Detective, he had served thirty years, retired, and had headed west to Las Vegas to start his own Detective Agency.

      Ten years later, instead of enjoying retirement, he drew a good salary. Took photographs of A-List Celebrities. Captured graphic details of cheating husbands or wives, and sold them to the Media. He was making paper, but not yet printing his own money. He ran the Agency with one broad at the helm. Ginger. Her real name was Marcy. A redhead with big breasts.

      Stanley gave people descriptive names which helped him to remember who the fuck they were. His memory was not that wonderful lately but it got him from A to B and helped him to solve his client's cases. He was professional. If he felt unable to take on a case he outsourced the detective work. Gave side jobs to younger more amiable guys. Guys hungrier than him for a collar. Some of his current confidential informants stemmed from his days with NYPD. Men who had since migrated to Las Vegas after he did. Tracked their movements and gave them payouts in exchange for tidbits of reliable information.

      One such side piece of information had led to the capture and arrest of an attempted rapist. Ted Hollinger. At that time, Ted had been married to Marcy. At his first sight of Marcy, Stanley knew he wanted to be with her forever. Fortunately for him, she had felt the same way about him. Lucky bastard.

      Now he was stepping out on her. The jerk.

      Fuck. It wasn't as though they were married. He'd proposed marriage to Marcy and she had refused. Said marriage didn't work in her family. Said whoever married ended up divorced at some point. Said it was best that they live together and remain the best of friends.

      Friends with privileges status happened much later. Marcy was a good lay, but Stanley liked to dine at a different restaurant every once in a while. He was crazy like that.

      Stanley had reached his office. He snapped on a light and opened the filing cabinet. In the third drawer down he spied the whisky bottle. Half empty. He recalled the last drink he had taken. It was almost six days ago. Something about his day had made him reach for a drink now. Exhaustion. The cocaine wore off faster lately. He didn’t have anymore.

      He was done for the day. He looked at the clock on the back of the office door. After midnight. He'd get hell from his old lady when he got home. Not that he didn't deserve some sort of chiding but hell? No. Not this time.

      He reached into the desk drawer and pulled out the box. Long red box with velvet fabric on top covering it. Heard the hinges creak when he snapped back the lid. Diamonds. A tennis bracelet he had retrieved from the contents of a deceased client's cabinet drawer. He closed the lid again.

      Derek Baines pulled up to the Treasure Island hotel and Casino on the Las Vegas Strip and passed the car keys to a valet. He went inside and found the front desk.

      Can I help you, Sir? The concierge smiled a ten thousand kilowatt smile. His clean shaven face was pitted on the cheeks. His gut was low and round, and strained against his yellow Treasure Island shirt which was stained at the armpits with his sweat, despite the fierce air conditioning unit to his left continually blowing through his speckled grey and black hair.

      I'm meeting with Lieutenant Finkel Macaulay up on sixty-three? You have her details for me? Derek passed his card to the concierge. He watched while the concierge swiped and activated a white plastic card into a reader on the right of the desk. He passed a clipboard to Derek.

      Sign here, please, he said, and watched as the paper was signed and the pen passed back to him.

      The Lieutenant hasn't arrived yet. You need to use the swipe card in the elevator to access any floors above sixty. He looked at Derek in a matter of fact way.

      Thank you very much, Derek said. Derek turned to locate the elevators. He glanced back at the concierge. He was on the phone. Derek didn't pay him any attention, and headed towards the elevator. He rounded the hallway and watched as two men in black coats entered the elevator. Kenwright and Flanagan. The weapons dealers Derek was tracking.

      One of the men carried a weapon in his black leather-gloved hand. A Glock. The brushed steel elevator doors nearest to Derek closed. He hit the call button and looked up at the elevator floor panel. The elevator continued on its upward journey. Derek hit the call button again and looked at the elevator panels on all six elevators, and leant back to do so.

      Watch it! A female voice to his left. He spun around. Was relieved. Lunged his body forward.

      Thank God! he said, and leaned forward and clutched me to his chest.

      Derek! Get off me! What's going on? I shook him off. Brushed down my coat. What the fuck was up with him?

      We've got to hurry! I just saw Kenwright and Flanagan headed upstairs. Derek pulled his weapon from his jacket. The elevator had stopped on the seventh floor.

      Fuck! They're early! I said, and pulled my weapon out of its holster. Stance checked, the elevator doors opened. We got inside. Derek looked at all the buttons.

      Trust me on this. I'm going to try something, alright? he said. I looked at him. His eyes were

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