The Starlight Club: The Starlight Club (Mystery Mob Series Book 1) Read Online Free

could drink it if you brought it in with you. Yip held court at the club and that was where his crew met when the boss called for a meet.
    The front door opened. Trenchie’s large shadowy form, silhouetted against the bright daylight, filled the doorway. He hesitated a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the drab interior of the club . Ever since prison, his eyes needed more time it seemed to adapt to the extreme change in light. Trenchie had always thought the Corona Gentleman’s Club was depressing and now as he looked around, he was convinced of it. It wasn’t surprising that Yip kept it devoid of anything decorative that would help brighten the place. It was just the way he was. It wasn’t that he was cheap. It was just that this was a sanctuary, a place to conduct business, nothing more, and to add flowers or pictures would suggest something else. Yip liked the place barren, no frills. It was just a structure that served the families’ businesses. It was spartan and the place was spotless. It looked the same now as it did ten years ago. Yip ran the place like an army barracks. He had a few of the younger guys on committee room detail. Their job was to come in early each morning, straighten the place, clean the tables, and put the bar in order. The only place off limits was Yip’s office. No one was allowed into his office when he wasn’t present.
    After stepping through the door, there was a long room that gave the illusion of being narrow . Bare tables lined both walls. The walls led to a bar recessed into the rear left wall. The club was not allowed to sell liquor. While you could bring your own bottle, you were required to pay for the glass, a drinking glass, which just happened to equal the price of a drink. That was how the club got around the liquor law. Even the cops knew that. The drink of the daytime was usually Italian coffee - espresso. There was always a card game on the second floor with considerable money changing hands. The players paid for the setups and all profits from the games were placed in a house fund that went to the upkeep of the club. Yip assigned a man to monitor this and to collect the club’s percentage.
    If someone wanted to get to the back room, he had to pass the card tables . That was the only way to gain access to the command center of Yip’s operation. Trenchie walked slowly past the tables. As he headed for the stairs, he stopped to shake a hand or two and say a few words to someone here or there. As he passed, there were scattered whispers from guys who knew him from the old days, all informing the newer ‘members’ of who Trenchie was. The fact that he was a made man, having done ten years, said it all. It let them all know that he had made his bones - something that commanded respect in these circles.
    Trenchie knocked once on the door and a voice answered.
    “Come on in.”
    He opened the door . Yip smiled, stood, walked over and in his Italian, loving way, embraced him long and strong.
    “It’s good to see you Trench . Have a seat.”
    Trenchie settled into the large comfortable sofa opposite Yip’s desk and tu rned and looked at the other three men in room. He took in everything about them, without saying a word. Yip pointed to one of the men.
    “Trenchie, this is Lieutenant Creighton of the New York City Police Department.”
    Creighton stood up and extended his hand. Trenchie hesitated, giving him a slight nod of acknowledgement.
    “Nice to meet you, Trenchie.”
    “Likewise.”
    “And Trenchie, say hello to two of my men. Jerry and Richie Pigeons.”
    Trenchie shook Jerry’s hand and gave him an almost imperceptible but recognizable nod. He did the same with Richie Pigeons.
    Creighton, sensing that he should give the men privacy, stood as if to leave but stopped, scribbled something onto a piece of paper, and handed it to Trenchie.
    “This is my private phone number, Trenchie. Put it somewhere safe. If anything comes up, anything at all, and