When Jonny Nick died from cancer last April at 72, Fraser - who had spoon-fed him KFC potato and gravy in his final days - dropped a freshly-shot pheasant into his coffin and spoke poetically of their relationship as being like master and apprentice.
He affectionately described Jonny Nick as a womanising, street-savvy boxing fanatic at a time when he was a "young boy who believes in true love".
Jonny Nick had been married only once, briefly, in the 70s, and left behind no will, no children and a modest estate of about $600,000.
Last July, his sister, Pauline, was made the administrator of his estate in the High Court.
Nephew David Knott said they were a loving, though not particularly close, family.
But Knott had a lot of love and respect for his Uncle John.
"He was a man's man. His motto with birds was 'if you didn't shoot it, you shagged it'."
Knott, a tennis coach by trade but handy with a hammer, took months off work to try to restore the club to its former glory.
The crushed velvet curtains were washed, carpets replaced, and the antique mirrors polished. It still retains a certain retro charm.
"I promised my uncle I would keep the place going for him."
Knott says he and his mother also renovated Jonny Nick's Meadowbank townhouse to get it ready for sale.
Months after Jonny Nick's's death, Fraser filed a 33-page affidavit claiming he should be the sole beneficiary.
"We never saw it coming," says Knott.
Fraser, a decorated senior constable and Armed Offenders Squad member, is now in a bitter legal fight with Knott and his mother over the estate.
The case has dragged on through the Family Court, costing the family tens of thousands of dollars, and still no end is in sight.
Knott said Jonny Nick had lots of friends, nurtured many a lost soul and was a father-figure to many on K Rd. None of them had come forward claiming the club.
"It's been incredibly stressful, awkward and costly. For someone to come out of the woodwork eight months later is immoral. I don't want my mum dying over this. She's 75, she should be enjoying her life, not putting up with this crap."
Pauline, who doesn't want to go to mediation, says: "Ethically and morally it's wrong. He's a police officer. You don't pick your friends depending on how much money they are going to leave you."
Legal experts say disputes over estates are becoming increasingly common. Public Trust managing solicitor Richard Calvert says that hundreds are ending in conflict every year.
He says families are more willing to wade into costly and splintering disputes, and more prepared to fight their family members in court.
"I think people are becoming more litigious. They are much more conscious of their rights and they are prepared to put their best foot forward.
"It's a pity, because it often leads to family disharmony. It can be nasty and very, very expensive."
The Public Trust recommends everyone should make a will, but this still won't guarantee avoiding a similar dispute playing out.
Exact figures on how many New Zealanders have wills are difficult to pin down.
The Public Trust estimates that 165,000 wills are made or remade every year. About 30,000 people die each year.
A bewildering array of legislation covers the administration of the worldly goods the dead leave behind: the Administration Act, the Promises Act, the Property Relations Act, the Family Protection Act can all have parts to play.
Lawyers will often make a will free of charge, on the proviso they take a fee at the time of death - typically around $1500. Services thereafter are charged on an hourly basis - about $300 an hour for an experienced solicitor.
For nearly 40 years, the Vegas Girl sign has invited punters to the Las Vegas Strip Club on Karangahape Rd.
Its existence was threatened briefly by legal action when a local school headmistress claimed it was corrupting the schoolgirls who walked past it every day.
Its fading owner, Jonny Nick, was a man of contradiction.
He operated a strip club for 30 years but didn't smoke or drink. Friends estimate he shot 2000 pheasants but never ate them - didn't like the taste. And they reckon he may have racked up a similar number of bedroom conquests.
Adrian Churn, who has worked as a DJ at Las Vegas since 1976, still spins the tunes three nights a week. He believes Fraser's actions are placing the club's future in danger.
"John Nicholson's treated him like his own son because he never had any, but the thing is John Fraser got carried away on that phrase - being that son.
"It's hanging over all of us."
Hunting buddy Gary Vittle, who knew Nicholson for 30 years and spoke at his funeral, says: "He used to say: 'I will be f***ing dead, let them fight over it'."
Fraser refused to speak to the Herald on Sunday and hung up. Efforts to contact him via the police also failed.
