by Chuck Swope
Contents
Head For Murder
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Other Books
Copyright 2015 by Charles E Swope
HEAD FOR MURDER
Chuck Swope
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons
Living or dead is strictly coincidental
Chapter One
Weasel promptly went to sleep after boarding his plane as he usually did. He didn’t like to fly and sleep was his escape. He didn't notice the other two men that moved in to claim the two seats beside him. The airplane taxied down the runway and they were airborne.
The men looked around, most of the passengers were busying themselves reading or listening to who knows what on their headphones. Then the men began to talk in low whispers.
"You sure that joker's asleep?" One of the men asked the other.
"Yeah, he's out. He's even starting to snore."
"Good. Like I was telling you before, we got to get rid of Billy Jackson tonight."
The man sitting beside Weasel, responded. "I don't like it. It's too damn risky."
"We have to take the chance. Presnell's getting out of prison the day after tomorrow.. You know he'll hightail it right to Vegas. Don't worry about a thing. I've got the whole setup planned out."
"I don't care, things can go wrong. They usually do. Hell, that's the one thing you can count on. Things almost never go as planned. What do they call that? Murphy's Law or something like that?"
"Look, Presnell's letter didn't say much, but he didn’t have to. I could read between the lines, plenty good. He knows who I am and he'll blackmail me until I'm dry as a bone. Then when I can't pay no more, the asshole will squeal to the cops."
"You don't know that for sure," the other man said.
"I ain't taking no chances. Look, we take care of Billy and then we collect a cool two mil. I can take care of Presnell after that. That joker still asleep over there?"
"Yep. Sleeping like a baby, he is. Look I still don't like it. If shit happens, I'll be left holding the bag."
The bigger man on the aisle seat gave the other man a look that would melt an iceberg. "You'll do as I say," he growled. “Else you'll be taking up the cell Presnell's leaving. Or worse, you'll be sleeping in Billy Jackson's grave. Your choice." Then he looked around, making sure no one overheard him.
The airplane landed at its destination, McCarran Airport in Las Vegas, Nevada. The two men fled their seats, retrieved their carry-ons from the overhead compartment, filed out of the plane with the rest of the Vegas bound passengers.
The flight attendant gently shook Weasel awake. "We're in Las Vegas, Sir. Time to deplane."
Weasel grinned at the attendant, retrieved his hatbox from the overhead compartment. Once off the plane he found a cab and made for home, an apartment he shared with his pal, Big Benny.
Once home, he went though the door and called to his roommate. "Hey, Benny, where are ya? I'm home from Texas.” He carefully placed the hatbox on the coffee table in front of the couch. He had bought Benny a brand new
Stetson hat and hoped he would be pleased. "Hey, big guy, ya home?"
Big Benny poked his head out of the bathroom door. "Hey, Weasel. Glad you're back. I just got out of the shower. "I'll be out in a sec."
"Hurry up every chance ya get. I got ya a present."
"You did? You musta had a great trip. See ya in a minute."
Weasel sat down on the well-worn couch. H had a hard time containing himself. He wanted Benny to come see his gift. "Hurry up, Benny.”
Big Benny came waltzing out of the bathroom wearing only boxer shorts. An almost naked Big Benny was truly an impressive sight to see. He stood six feet five and a well muscled 285. To see him with his clothes on, his round face and balding head gave rise to the notion that this big man was running to fat. That impression was a mistaken one that more than a few people had come to regret having. "So what's this present you got for me, Weasel?"
"Look in that box on the coffee table and you'll see, my friend."
Benny lifted the lid off of the hat box more than a little gingerly as his small friend had been known to pull pranks on him before. When he removed the lid he grasped the tissue paper that covered his supposed gift
and pulled it out. He stared, disbelieving, at his gift. "Oh, God," he gasped. Then he ran for the bathroom.
His actions startled Weasel. He ran to the box and looked. He took a step backward. "What the-" Then he moved forward for another look. He looked and then dared to touch the thing in the hatbox. Nestled there in the soft tissue was a head. A man's head. It had disheveled black hair, a ruddy complexion and a scraggly mustache and beard. The man had looked menacing. And now he was dead, somehow, his head finding its way into Weasel’s hands.
Weasel worked up the courage to touch it again. This time, having gotten over the shock, something didn't feel quite right. He lifted the head from its resting place. It went limp in his hands. Then Weasel started laughing. The thing that had sent Big Benny running and retching to the bathroom was a mask. Nothing more.
Weasel inspected the box. The box had a sticker that said MAUDE's CUSTOM MADE COSTUMES ANDS MASKS DALLAS TEXAS. He quickly surmised that the men occupying the seats next to him had evidently grabbed the wrong hatbox on the plane, They did look amazingly similar. He tried to call the costume shop where it had came from, but no answer.
He could still hear his pal, Benny, retching and carrying on in the bathroom. Weasel started laughing but was interrupted by a knock on the door. He opened it and before he knew it, a fist lashed out and he was down for the count.
The face of the mask was chasing him and laughing uproariously. He ran as fast as he could but then a long tongue whipped out of the man's mouth and sucked him in.
"Weasel, wake up, wake up," Benny cried out, all the while shaking his companion urgently.
Weasel opened his eyes, blinked until his focus returned. He saw Big Benny hovering over him. "What happened?" he asked weakly.
"Don't know. I came out of the bathroom and there you were laying out cold on the floor. You don't remember what happened?"
"I'm trying. There was a knock on the door and then everything went black." He struggled to sit up. "Wait, the guy at the door must have slugged me."
"Who was he? Do ya know? Did ya recognize the mug?"
"No, there wasn't time. Wait, I do know who it was,it’s coming back to me. Two guys on the plane sat down in the two seats beside me just as I was drifting off to sleep."
Big Benny stifled the urge to smile. "Yeah, I know. You're scared of flying so ya try to go to sleep as quick as you can."
Weasel rubbed his sore head. "I ain't afraid of flying. It's the crash I'm worried about. Hey, is anything missing?"
"Don't know," Benny answered. "I saw you on the floor, put you on the couch and got a wet towel for your head. Ain't had time to look around."
Weasel eased himself off the couch into an upright position. His eyes focused on the hatbox. "Benny, that head that sent you flying into the bathroom?"
"Yeah, I gotta tell ya Weasel that wasn't very funny. Where'd you get that thing?"
"That's just it. It's not mine. It must have belonged to the two guys on the plane that I was telling you about. They must've grabbed the wrong hatbox. They got your hat and I got the mask."
"Mask?" Benny squealed. “That thing was a mask?"
"Yeah, it was just a mask. That guy must have come here to get it."
Benny hurried
ly opened the offending hatbox back up. "Hey, this here is a big white Stetson."
"Right, that's the present I got for you, big guy. That mug must have returned it and took back his mask. But I wonder why he had to be so rough about it?" He rubbed his head some more.
"The guy must be fixin' to commit a crime with that mask. I'll bet that's what it is," Benny surmised. He reached into the box, grabbed the Stetson and put it on.
"Looks good on you, big boy. Makes you look like a more muscular Hoss Cartright."
"Ya think so?" Benny rushed into the bathroom to take a look at himself in the mirror. He came out grinning. "I really like it, Weasel. I really do. Thanks little buddy."
"You're welcome. Soon as I saw it, I just knew it was you, Benny."
Benny made a move to return the hat to the box. Weasel jumped off the couch. "Don't do that. Put it in the closet. I got me an idea."
"Yeah? What kinda idea you got?"
"I'm gonna have Melissa take the hatbox and dust it for fingerprints. She works for CSI, you know."
"Yeah, I remember. But what for?"
"I wanna know who this guy is and why he thumped me on my melon, that's why." He dialed Melissa's number on his cell.
"Hey, girl. How you doing?"
"Who is this?" came the female response.
"Aw, Melissa, you know it's me, Percy."
"I was afraid of that. What do you want this time, Percy?"
"Who says I want something?"
"I do, cause you never call me unless you need a favor."
"I don't think that's true, Sweetie." He tried to sound like his feelings were hurt. "But it is a coincidence that I just happen to need just a leetle favor."
"I knew it," she yelped. "I just knew it. What is it?"
“I have a hatbox that I need fingerprinted.”
“Did you and your roommate both touch it?”
“Yep, afraid so.”
“Who else?”
“How the hell do I know? That’s why I need it fingerprinted.”
“Hey, dude, don’t get surly with me. You’re the one that needs the favor.”
“Uh, right. Sorry. Will you do it?”
“Maybe. But it will cost you.”
“Okay, Percy Periwinkle always pays his debts. You want sex, right?”
“Oh, Percy. Get over yourself already. I want dinner and I don’t mean a buffet either. I want a fancy dinner in a fancy place.”
“You got it, Sweetie. How about tonight?”
“I’ll be there at seven.”
Weasel agreed and terminated the call. He looked to Benny. “Benny, how you fixed for cash?”
Chapter Two
Weasel was tossing and turning. Then he awoke. “Percy, wake up. I have to get going.”
He looked at Melissa, uncomprehending at first, then he remembered where he was. “Sorry, kiddo. I was dreaming.”
“About last night?” she asked, with a tempting smile.
“It’s gone now. But I don’t think it was a good dream.”
“Well, whatever it was, haul your butt out of bed. I need to get you home, then get to work.”
“What time is it?” He rubbed his sleepy eyes.
“Six in the morning. Let’s go, get up out of there.”
“Six! That’s inhuman. Go on to work and let me sleep a few more hours.”
“How will you get home?”
“I’ll call Benny.” He rolled over and closed his eyes.
“If that’s what you’re going to do, then I have time for a cup of coffee and a bagel.”
“See how good I am to you?” he mumbled without opening his eyes.
He woke up a few hours later. He had the dream again. He dreamed about the two characters that sat next to him on the plane. They were saying something about a murder. He shrugged it off, got up and padded to the shower. After the shower he dressed and called Benny. He grabbed himself a cup of coffee. Melissa had left the coffee pot plugged in for him. He plugged in the toaster and helped himself to her bagels.
He had just finished with the bagels when Big Benny arrived in his slightly dilapidated old Dodge. Weasel rushed out to meet him, making sure Melissa’s front door locked properly.
He told his partner about the dream.
“What do ya think it means?” Benny asked.
“Don’t know exactly. Maybe while I was asleep their conversation got into my subconscious. Maybe those guys were planning a murder. Otherwise, why knock me out to steal that mask?”
“When we get home,” Benny suggested. “Maybe you should go back to sleep. Maybe you’ll get some names this time.”
“Nah, don’t think so. Maybe Melissa will get us some names from the prints she gets off the hatbox.”
“Hope so,” Benny said. He pulled into the parking lot of their apartment building.
Once inside their apartment Benny remembered the money he had lent Weasel the night before. “Got any of that money left over from the dinner you had with Melissa?”
“No such luck.”
“Damn, how much did that meal cost, anyway?”
“With the tip it was almost two hundred and fifty bucks.”
“You couldn’t just take her to a buffet, could ya?”
“Not and get the favor we wanted. Count it as a business expense, pal.”
“Yeah right, except who’s paying the freight? We ain’t got no client.”
“Maybe we will have, Benny. Maybe we will have.”
“Really? You got somebody in mind?” Benny grabbed a beer from the fridge.
“Not yet. But if there’s a plot to bump some poor slob off, and we can find out who the slob is. Maybe he’ll pay for the info.”
“That’s a lot of maybes and ifs.” Benny’s big body slumped onto the couch.
“I know but that’s all we got right now.” Weasel started reading the morning paper. He had Benny stop at a convenience store on the way home, so he could by one. One story caught his eye.
Brent Presnell Getting Out Of Jail Tomorrow the headline proclaimed. Weasel dropped the paper. “That’s it!” He yelped.
Benny was startled by his friend’s sudden outburst. “What’s it?”
“That’s the name I dreamed about. Only in the dream they just referred to him as Presnell.” He showed the paper to Benny.
Benny scratched his balding head. “How did ya do that? How’d you dream about a guy you don’t know?”
“Only explanation is that the guys on the plane were talking about him. And that’s what they said. Presnell was getting out of jail and they had to get rid of Billy Jackson. Wow, I really did hear them.”
“What did the guy do?” Benny asked.
“Don’t know.” Weasel picked up the paper and continued reading. “Says here that he and somebody named Clarence Swift robbed and killed a jeweler. Presnell claimed he was innocent and waited outside the jewelry store while Swift went in to buy his girlfriend a ring. Presnell said he heard a shot then Swift ran out of the store waving a gun and demanded that he drive as fast as he could. Since Swift was never found, they only gave Presnell fifteen years.”
“Man oh, man. That’s quite a yarn. So this guy, Presnell’s gettin’ out of jail and those mugs on the plane are going after a guy named Billy Jackson?”
“That’s what I heard, I’m sure of it now.”
“What I don’t get is what’s Billy Jackson got to do with it?”
“That I don’t know. But I sure as hell mean to find out.” Weasel proclaimed.
Before Benny could answer that, Weasel’s cell phone rang. “Oh, hi, Melissa. What did you find out?”
“Uh, huh. Thanks, kiddo. What? Dinner tonight? Only if you’re buying or cooking. After last night, I’m flat broke,” The phone clicked in Weasel’s ear.
“What did Melissa have to say? She find any finger prints on the hatbox?” Benny seemed eager for the information.
“She sure did. Besides ours she found three other prints. Get this, One was from a guy named Gus
Watson and the other two were employees of the costume shop that sold the mask.”
“So, what’s it mean?”
“I think it means that this Watson guy was one of the guys on the plane.”
“Now what? What’s our next move?”
“I need to think on that,” Weasel said, going back to the newspaper. Nothing else caught his interest.
Weasel put down the paper and picked up the phone book. After ten minutes searching he had an announcement to make. “I found it!”
“Found what?”
“The connection between those guys on the plane and Billy Jackson. Gus Watson and Billy Jackson are in business together.”
“Get out. That’s amazing. So this Watson wants to get rid of his partner?”
“Yep, appears so. They probably have insurance on each other and now Watson means to collect.”
“Maybe I should get some insurance on you, Weasel?”
Weasel stared at his partner. “Forget about it. I don’t need you getting any funny ideas.”
“Don’t worry about me. I wouldn’t do another stretch in the pen for all the money in the world. Now, what’s our next move in this weird case?”
Weasel looked relieved. “Let’s go find the intended victim.”
Chapter Three
Weasel found the import export storefront that was attributed to the partners. It was located on Fremont, near the Cortez Hotel And Casino. Benny found a side street and parked. They walked to the shop. “Maybe you’d better go have a beer at the Cortez Bar, Benny. The two of us might be too intimidating,” Weasel suggested.
“Okay. But don’t take too long. I ain’t got a whole lot of money after loaning a wad to you last night.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You don’t have to bring it up every five minutes.”
Benny grinned and started of to the Casino. Weasel went into the import shop.
The bell tinkled when he opened the door, causing the man behind the counter to look up. Weasel thought he was going to crap his pants.
