Cutler's Friend (The John Cutler Mysteries Book 3) by Colin Conway

Author:Colin Conway [Conway, Colin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Original Ink Press
Published: 2022-03-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Erika arrived at my house an hour before our scheduled shift at the club. She wore denim shorts and tennis shoes while I had on jeans and black boots. Her clothes were for comfort and earning tips while mine were fighting. We both had on black t-shirts emblazoned with the Club Royale logo. Her shirt was form-fitting and looked tremendous. Mine had a bright yellow Security scrawled across the back.

“You look great,” I said.

She shrugged. “Same thing I wear every day.”

“Still.”

“Where’s the dog?”

“Out back. Watered and set for the night.”

Erika dropped into my desk chair and absently thumbed through the papers on the desk.

“You ready to go?” I asked.

Another shrug. This one was less enthusiastic than the last.

“Everything okay?”

“It’s this weekend,” she said. “If I could skip it, I would.”

I understood. Of any event weekend to work at the bar, Hoopfest was the worst.

According to the newspaper, the three-on-three basketball tournament was the largest in the world. Over six thousand teams made up of four people each were expected to swarm the downtown streets for the next two days. With friends and family in attendance, the event would attract over 250,000 people. The elimination tournament would start on Saturday morning and culminate with the championship game on Riverfront Park’s center court late Sunday afternoon.

The whole weekend was big business. City-approved vendors set up booths or wandered through the tournament hawking wares. Again, the newspaper estimated that the tourney pumped almost $40 million into the local economy. Of course, that’s the happy, promotional stuff that brings in the tourists. It’s the dirty side of the tournament that rarely gets talked about.

“It’ll be okay,” I said.

She eyed me. “It’s not your ass getting grabbed.”

I feigned offense. “My ass gets grabbed plenty.”

“It better not.”

“Sometimes.”

“Is that a fact?” She leaned back in the chair. “You don’t seem too concerned about this weekend.”

“What’s there to be worried about?” I tried to sound untroubled. I had bounced the previous two Hoopfest weekends. The idea of another tourney weekend filled me with dread I never felt as a cop.

Throughout the tournament, fights occurred. Players hopped up on a cocktail of adrenaline and summer heat had little self-control when tempers flared. Many players flocked to the competition to claim some long-forgotten courtside glory.

During the day, the police department flooded the streets with its officers. It was an attempt to convince the public that it was safe. Peace through superior firepower.

Friday night was generally peaceful, but Saturday night was volatile. All bars filled regardless of their local popularity. Most nightclubs packed to overcapacity. Drunk bodies banged into other drunk bodies. That’s when the emotional highs of competition slammed into the misery of early tournament eliminations. Dangerous things happened then.

Suspected gang members seemed to be attracted to the event. Maybe they played in the tournament. Perhaps they came to conduct illicit business. Or perhaps they only wanted to be around for a good time. Whatever it was, the city and its tourist bureau turned a blind eye to their arrival.

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