Casino L'Miracle

By Dianna Diverno

Stephan Iron, the head of the investigative department in New Orleans, is going on vacation to Morocco. Taking his lover Rene with him, he convincingly builds an obligatory business trip in front of his wife. However, Rene has overdosed at the hotel and Mr. Iron is aware of the danger he is in. All this would not be so dangerous if his wife did not follow him to improve their married life and surprise him on that business trip in an exotic country. The question is where to hide the lover's corpse from the Moroccan authorities?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dianna Diverno
• Release date: Feb 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215005934

Book preview

PART 1

CHAPTER FIRST - IT'S TIME FOR A VACATION WITH YOUR LOVER

The investigative department of the police in New Orleans was the place where Mr. Stephan Iron spent twenty years. Business-filled years led him to success; so Mr. Iron already in the first couple of years showed significant and important progress, so he advanced to sergeant, second lieutenant, and in the next ten years he would reach the position of chief inspector. And with fifteen years of work, he reached the position of chief of the New Orleans Investigation Department and head of the Blood Crimes Division.

Mr. Iron, it was clear, was a man devoted entirely to his work, and only took vacations when he was forced to do so; although even in those days when he was on that so-called vacation, he called his assistant Lorens to be adequately informed about every moment. Therefore, it is difficult to send a person like Stephan Iron on vacation and expect him to have a good spring break for the whole three weeks. Because even if he was married to Sabrina Iron, they had one son, one could rather conclude that Mr. Iron is married to the Blood Crimes Section.. Also, for his sacrifice and dedication, he had several thank you notes that he kept framed in to his office and of which, in those difficult moments of solitude, he was proud.

Sabrina Iron thought for him that such dedication to work was not the best, nor healthy, nor advisable, and they had already had a thousand and one high-quality discussions about it without meaning, because he still thought it was completely normal to be so dedicated and to that's what he expects from him, he worked for a long time to be where he was and, of course, he didn't even think of giving up. Mr. Iron was at the same time genuinely surprised with her proposal, while she was more than surprised with his persistence.

Also, both were believers, they believed in God, truth and justice, and they taught their son quality and correct supervision for life.

Mr. Stephan Iron was a tall man with light brown hair, which he tried to tame with gel, but over time he began to go bald, so now he regularly cuts his hair short. He wore glasses when he read something or worked on the computer, in other daily activities he did not need glasses. He had light, gray eyes and a somewhat elongated face, which gave the impression of masculinity and strikingness. Most often, at least in the last three years, he wore navy-blue clothes and purple ties, he liked original watches, going hunting, and his most common hobby (which he managed to devote himself to only twice a year) was going fishing on Lake Ponchertrain. His biggest regret in life was that they didn't have another child - a daughter - because considering that James was still a mama's son, Stephan was in a certain way disappointed in his son.

Mr. Iron had numerous significant experiences in the field of police investigations, as well as international terrorism, but since he was in the police in an investigative suit, and not in anti-terrorist units, as he sometimes imagined, he tried to be in the position he was in best. He only occasionally read about mafia clans and arms trade on an international level.

That day he had a meeting in one of the offices, because he was awaited by a report on the case of the murder of Peter Hampshire, who did not leave his seventy-four million dollars to anyone, so that murder was also considered unusual, with clear allusions that suspicion fell on all of Hampshire rather predatory relatives.

In the moments when he once again decided to read what was written. A brief report made by policewoman Ethel indicated that Peter Hampshire was found in the pool by Kitty Hampshire, the girl to whom the seventy-four million dollars was originally addressed in a will, but then Peter was that will (due to some unspecified scandal). declared absolutely void...

Just as he picked up the picture of the late Peter Hampshire who was found floating in that pool, his cell phone rang. He slowly took the phone in his hands, without taking his eyes off Peter (he was reading - he was killed at 9:25 a.m.), and then he looked at the screen and was surprised to see the name of Renata Torres, whom everyone called Rene. A beautiful twenty-eight-year-old woman who looked at him very willing to definitely take him to bed one day or at least on some weekend vacation. Now he was looking at that name, and then finally answered:

- Rene! I'm currently working! - he warned her. They had known each other for half a year and she knew how to invite him at inconvenient times and in inconvenient places. However, they were not in any kind of romantic relationship. He was forty-seven years old, he was married, religious, and, of course, that his mistress was not too necessary. But as with other men, the period of middle age, second youth (albeit a bit late) was swelling with him, so he used to ask himself in the middle of a ceremony or a meeting - if he will see Rene next week, what kind of corset is he wearing , would a trip to her bed possibly hurt him?

-  I know - Rene said in a soft voice and she was twirling a curl of her long hair with her left index finger. She was in the living room of her apartment, dressed in a plain white bra and panties, completely relaxed, passionate, with her thoughts fixed on him. - I was thinking about you - she admitted.

- I am currently reading a report. I don't have time to ...

She interrupted him.

- Have you thought about my proposal?

- A proposal? - he imagined, and then he remembered four evenings ago, in the restaurant At Marthy, candlelight, salmon and her proposal to travel together, her efforts to win him over, because he would not be the first, nor the last, to cheat on his a woman. He wondered if he needed it? And the worm of middle-aged doubt was calmly doing its thing...

- Yes. Let's travel!

- The two of us?

- Yes.

- By themselves? - he gasped. He wondered what Sabrina Iron would say if she knew about this conversation?

- Surely. Do you think, my dear Steph, that I would call you to go on some exotic trip, safari, oases, the Atlantic - without thinking that we would be alone there? - again she started the day rushing at him.

- After all, last time ''At Marthy'', you admitted that you like me a lot.

- Yes - he admitted. - I like you. And that should be all there is to it - he imagined in a lacy black negligee, graceful, passionate, intoxicating night scents, her blonde hair scattered on the pillow. He then looked (as if sobering up) at the picture of the murdered Peter Hampshire. To hell with Peter Hampshire!

- But why? Imagine us Steph, I'm sure you've already imagined us naked, giving each other the way it should be in some faraway destination... on vacation. Somewhere where Sabrina will never even know about us - she listed exactly as if she was reading his debauched thoughts.

- Yes - he breathed his confession, and she felt some relief because of it.

- You see! All you need now is for you to come to me, so that we can arrange everything, Steph. Here, now I'm in my underwear and I'm already so hot, so...

He could almost imagine her like that. But he pulled himself together.

- I will have to end the relationship Rene! I have a report in front of me and I have a meeting coming up, so ...

She had to be persistent. She had to have him for herself.

- Promise me you'll come tonight. Promise!

And while he was thinking in a negligee with loose hair, he barely managed to say Yes, aware that now there was no going back... The abyss was in front of him and he was convinced, finally and for the first time in his forty years and seven years that he is completely insane.

When he hung up, he wondered why he never thought of taking Sabrina on such a vacation?

––––––––

The meeting was largely monotonous, with the main topic being the murdered Peter Hampshire, his millions, relatives... The case was assigned to investigator Johnathan Lombardo. He was an efficient Californian investigator who had been working in the police force in New Orleans for two years, a man whom Iron did not train well, but he appreciated efficiency and dedication to investigative work. The most famous case of investigator Lombardo was the Bones case. Since then, he hasn't had such big cases.

Will the case of the murdered rich man from Hampshire be his new big case?

Stephan Iron's chief assistant was Edward Lawrence who had been working in the Investigation Department for years as Iron's shadow and at the age of thirty-seven he was highly respected, but in the opinion of other police officers, just as badass as Stephan Iron.

- Do you suspect a relative? - asked assistant Lawrence as he looked at the scattered pictures of the murdered P.Hampshire. - he was choked with a thin rope, and then he was thrown into the pool. And there are clear traces of the rope on the neck!

- Was there blood in the pool? - asked researcher Lombardo.

- Yes, it is. They found him after 5-6 hours - concluded Lorens, who was just as intrusive and very righteous and got on everyone's nerves. And he seems to have already asked with his attitude: What fool screwed up my case?

- We have an old rich orangutan, Lawrence - said Mr. Iron, referring to the murdered Peter Hampshir - a big beast with $74 million. He will have lawyers and work, even considering that it is not known who the heirs are.

- Of course it is. Forensics - he reminded him - sent a report.

- Yes - Mr. Iron shot him a look while all the interlocutors in the room mostly just listened to them. - Hasty forensic analyses! I have said a hundred times that I want every detail to be analyzed, even if that work took the whole afternoon. But they are the flesh - forensic experts of our team. Even if there are three of them, dear Lawrence, they always miss something... I keep talking about it, you see, but no one listens to me!

- I'm listening to you, boss! - Lawrence answered paltroly.

Mr. Iron looked at investigator Lombardo, who was somehow comfortably seated in the corner of the room.

- I hear you've been assigned a case? Very unusual. It's a novelty for you, stylish and without traces - Lombardo! - concluded Mr. Iron slowly. They talked more about the case, although they didn't have too many details in the report. Officer Ethel wrote what she knew, the statements of Ordnance Sam and Kitty Hampshire, the people who found the murdered P. Hampshire, were taken, and it looked uncertain and pointless, especially because the forensics did not find absolutely a single print, calling it a hoax - stylish and without traces - and what was even worse, all messages and all emails of P. Hampshire were deleted. The killer knew what he was doing.

After the meeting where they determined who would take care of what, it was also clear to them that the journalists had already published the news about the death of P. Hampshire, but they presented the wrong image to the public that the killer was Kitty Hampshire, which of course was not true. At the end of the meeting, Mr. Iron only diverted Ethel's attention:

- Warn them to keep their mouths shut. The investigative division will not present any information yet - he sighed. The day was long.

- Okay, boss - Officer Ethel nodded, and then she went outside where she agreed on a few more details with Investigator Lombardo and Captain John Robertson. Mr. Iron and assistant Lawrence remained in the room.

- Close the door! - said Mr. Iron, who felt a short-term pain in his head, similar to the beginning of a migraine, although it was more than exhaustion.

Assistant Lawrence closed the door.

- And this day has come to an end! - said Lawrence, who sat opposite him.

Finally, when he needed someone to vent to, Mr. Iron said:

- I was deceived!

Surprised by his words, assistant Lawrence watched him questioningly for 2-3 moments. Mr. Iron was rarely overtired, he complained of sleepiness or short-term headaches. So that assistant Lawrence was now intrigued, but also to some extent convinced that behind all the superiority of Mr. Iron, there is an ordinary man with flaws, is this something that can make you feel relieved?

- Are you overworked? - confusedly, he bent his elbow and fixed his brown eyes on him.

(just as he was about to pause to say something about Rene, or to consult, Mr. Iron asked himself if this was really, and right? Lawrence, although he knew all about his affairs, had no idea who Rene was , he didn't know about his midlife crisis, about the desire to have a young, mature body in his hands...

A white negligee, and blond hair scattered on the pillow... He finally came to his senses and painfully concluded that he should talk to a psychologist or some other professional about his debauchery (because he is still a believer). However, he just blurted out:

- I've been wanting to go on vacation for a long time!

- From-m-or? - Assistant Lawrence asked word for word. - Now? But what do you mean by vacation - now? - he couldn't possibly be surprised.

- Now that narcissistic Hampshire has been found dead in a swimming pool and that's because of almost $74 million, would you like to rest? - he chose his words carefully, still mostly amazed..

- Yes. I need that. Rest. My thoughts are floating. Safari, Altantic and Oases - he enumerated them, and in his mind it was as if he had already wandered there with Rene. Life promised to be beautiful. Life is beautiful!

- Safari and oases? - Assistant Lawrence carefully repeated after him. - Truly exclusive from you boss! - he admitted that, and then added ...

- And what does Sabrina say about your idea?

As if he had rapturously tumbled down to the ground from unimaginable heights, Mr. Iron flinched.

- Who is that? And Sabrina? - he repeated. The image of a beautiful brunette was erased from his mind, his marital boring yard with grass that was always the same green. Or Rene - wonderful blonde, unexplored territory of ecstasy, safari in the best style. - I really need a rest, Lawrence - and without answering him, he just stood up and took the navy blue jacket in his hands, ready to finally step into the passionate waters that had been beckoning and calling him for weeks.

- You're right, boss. It's best to rest - said assistant Lawrence. Even now, the top paltron did not fail much in his job of nodding his head, so he even helped him put on that jacket and open the door for him, aware that his boss still has the right to rest on a safari and in African oases. He just said goodbye to him, aware that it is not bad in life to wait a little and dedicate yourself to yourself.

Rene Torres, a beautiful woman of Canadian-American origin, was the true embodiment of that combination. Part of one and the other, she managed to go through life virtuously and take quick steps. She grew up with her Canadian mother in Tampa, spent three years in Miami, and came to New Orleans when she was twenty. She worked as a hostess and waitress for two years in a public club and ended up being the mistress of mobsters and important people. Accustomed to the easy life that other men gave her, now she does everything to make the hunts she fishes have more significant and important functions. She was not married and had no children. She had two abortions, once when she was eighteen and the second time when she was twenty-three. She didn't have any maternal instincts, nor was she attracted to family life.

Idylls, in Rene's opinion, belonged to fairy tales, and yet she was the protagonist of the real and mostly cruel world. She was not fooled by false ideals, especially because with the life she lived and the dangerous men she knew to meet, it makes no sense for her to deal with poetic inspirations and heartbreaking romance.

She was five feet tall, with blond hair. She was wearing branded clothing. She had two breast plastic surgeries and silicone on her lips. She was not a believer, and she was not even familiar with the spiritual side of life. She liked to occasionally read and watch a good movie. She followed all the fashion trends, lines of underwear, shoes and handbags, had upgraded long nails and lived in a luxurious two-room apartment.

Mr. Stephan Iron was a person who integrated in many different ways, and for half a year she had been boldly processing him, amazed that such a man had no experiences outside of marriage.

He was faithful to his wife, whom she heard was not even Miss Louisiana that summer, but that she was smart and college-educated and spoke two or three foreign languages. Something that, Rene thought absently in some classes, I will never be.

That evening, she was more than surprised when she saw Mr. Iron at her door. She was almost convinced that she could expect any other man before him.

She only covered herself with a white silk robe, through which everything was still visible, which she had received as a gift from a man (during their stormy August night).

- Steph! - she exclaimed enthusiastically. - It's unusual to see you!

But even before she invited him in, he calmly walked into her apartment and concluded that he himself was surprised that he was in it for the first time. He walked down the corridor, all the way to the bathroom, and then returned to the wonderful, large, living room furnished in the expensive style of Versailles.. He was very surprised, he turned towards her.

- Nice apartment!

- Sit down, Steph! - she offered him to sit on the dining room chair in the same way as she had offered it to numerous men before and smiled irresistibly.

- And I nicely told you At Marty that you will still