Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 99

When I regained consciousness, and the constellation blocking my vision finally started to disappear, we were pulling up to the front of what I presumed to be Stane's casino. I raised my throbbing head up to look at it.

A long, bush-lined half-circular driveway led up to the front doors, which were recessed back under a porte-cochere, held up by giant marble columns. It looked much classier than Stane and his idiot thugs. Before we pulled under it and the valet ran up to park the car, I got a glimpse of the sign above the joint...