Play Sexy For Me (Handy Mann Chronicles Book 1)

by Jimmy Pudge

  “Fuck this,” I said, walking around the table to the door.

  “Stop, Handy,” Fairfax said.

  “I’m not under arrest. This conversation is over.”

  The door opened as I reached for the knob. Stegman stood in the doorway. He was a big bastard. Stegman moved to the side.

  I heard Fairfax yelling at him as I walked out:

  “Stop him!”

  “He’s not under arrest,” Stegman said.

  I smiled. Stegman was okay for a goon.

  I thought about going back to the Dollar Inn, but I was sure I no longer had a job. Rudy would probably cuss my ass out before I got inside the lobby.

  I called Marcia at the motel. “I need a ride home.”

  “You know you’re fucked,” she said. “Rudy’s already hired your replacement. What are you going to do for money?”

  “Hell if I know.”

  “Want to sell weed? I’m always looking for dealers to help me out.”

  “No, I don’t want to sell any fucking weed. Can you give me a ride home or what?”

  “Fine,” Marcia said. “Where?”

  “Police station.”

  “Oh, you fucking owe me for this.”

  I pocketed my cell phone and waited at the entrance, sitting on a concrete bench that had been dedicated to a past chief of police. There was a little water fountain to the side of the bench. The water looked dirty.

  Marcia pulled up in her junky ass car, and I got inside, my feet crunching fast food wrappers and plastic cups.

  “Excuse the mess,” Marcia said.

  “You say that every time I get in the car. You don’t need to keep saying it.”

  “Don’t be an asshole to me, Handy. I’ve got a kilo of cocaine in the trunk. That’s a fucking major felony, Handy. See what I’m doing for you here?”

  “Thanks, Marcia,” I said, putting my hand on her thigh.

  She pushed it off. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “I’m not doing this for you because I want you to fuck me,” Marcia said.

  “Why you doing it?”

  “Because you’re going to work for me, bitch. Now buckle up.”

  I put on my seatbelt. Marcia watched too many crime movies. I was scared of her. We pulled out of the parking lot, Marcia’s car screeching as it rolled along the highway.

  Fairfax and Stegman had been really open with me about the case, which I thought was pretty fucked up. Damn if I’d let anyone know what I was investigating. Hell, maybe I murdered Mal. How did Fairfax and Stegman know I didn’t?

  Anyway, the two detectives had revealed to me that the pawn shop raid had been a bust. No computer, no snuff films. All the evidence was gone. Like it had never even existed. The techs had been working on the footage of the film I had turned over to the police, and according to Fairfax, some headway had been made. Good. Real good. But what about Ronald?

  “Why are you so quiet, Handy?” Marcia said.

  “Just thinking about my cousin.”

  “The transvestite?”

  No, the other one.”

  “Oh yeah, the pimp. Has he been arrested yet?”

  “No,” I said. “He’s been kidnapped.”

  Marcia nodded. “Ronald’s an asshole. I’m not surprised. He’s made a lot of enemies on the streets.”

  “No, it was that guy Mal who took him.”

  “What? How in the fuck is Ron involved with this? I thought you were the one who slept with his dead girlfriend.”

  “I got him involved. I told him about Mal and the dead girl, and he wanted to help me out.”

  “Oh,” Marcia said.

  “You know Mal abducted me in the Dollar Inn parking lot and took me to see Ronald?”

  “No shit?” Marcia said.

  “Yeah. He cut off Ron’s finger with a cigar cutter.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “I wish I could find Ronald,” I said.

  Marcia made a turn. “Well, do you remember anything about where he took you to?”

  “Not really. The inside of the place was old, looked really rundown. I didn’t see anything before we got there. I was knocked out. I didn’t see anything when he took me away either. All I knew is he dropped me off on Highway 42, right outside Forsyth.”

  Marcia nodded, took a look at me. “This place he took you to, did it smell bad? Did it have a real awful stink to it?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Now that you mention it. It smelled like shit.”

  “Feel like taking a road trip?”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll bet you anything Mal had your cousin at the old sausage factory.”

  #

  When I first saw Ronald, on the second floor of the dilapidated building, I thought he was dead. Ron was still tied to the chair, and a rat was actually gnawing on his hand.

  “Is he dead?” Marcia said.

  “I think so,” I said, knocking the rat away. It hissed at me, and then tore away into the darkness. I thought rats were supposed to be scared of humans.

  “We should go to his apartment,” Marcia said, “See what shit we can take.”

  “That’s my cousin,” I said.

  “So? He’s dead. It’s not like he needs anything, you know?”

  I considered robbing his apartment as I cut the ropes binding him with a pocket knife. He did have some nice looking items in there.

  “Jesus, man. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” I said, lifting his head up.

  He blinked, tried to say something through his cracked lips, and I screamed.

  Ronald closed his eyes and passed out.

  We rushed him to the hospital, knowing he was severely dehydrated. The amputations Mal had performed looked as if they were infected. Ronald was also burning up as if he had a major fever.

  Marcia stayed with me until the police arrived. She gave me a quick kiss on the check and whispered, “Call me if you want to make some easy money. I could use someone trashy like you to sell my products.”

  I watched her walk away, keeping her head down as she passed two uniforms coming down the hallway. For a drug dealer or smuggler or whatever in the fuck she was, she really was a nice person.

  Chapter 20

  I knew my boy would be out for days if not the very least most of the day, so I decided I had to put my big boy pants on and go see Brenda McKay, return her passport and let her know about her sister if she didn’t already know. There was a lot of confusion in all that went down and I wanted to make some sort of contact with someone who knew Claire like I did, knew her and, yes, dare a playa like me say it, that loved her.

  I left Ron in good hands, and I turned on the phone for him in case they took him out of ICU and made sure that they had my new cell number to contact me with his condition, or if he got better or worse, but he’s like a case of the fucking clap man, cant nothing kill him, he’ll keep coming back for more. I smiled and hoped I was right. I got dressed and went to get something to eat and drove slowly to the address that Groefield had confirmed was in fact the correct one on the passport. I still didn’t know why Claire would have had it, and it didn’t matter anymore really. I would return it and talk to Brenda and then move on with my life.

  At the very least I knew I could have a book out of this whole experience. I would, most likely, get a couple of six packs and come home and write until I fell asleep on my laptop.

  It turned out that she was about a mile from where Ronald keeps his hoes on the other side of the highway that cuts right by the motel where they run their business from. It was down on one side of the railways near a cool BBQ joint I would have to check out later. It looked nice, like a one family home with the white picket fence, though there was no fence, not really it had one of those archways you walk under, like some people have when they get married. It was classy.

  I saw a car in the driveway, a Chevy cobalt, and knew that at least she was home, so I had no choice but to continue on. I stood i
n front of the door and rang the bell. I noticed my hands were slick with sweat and wiped them on my pants.

  The door opened and I was face to face with this short but sprightly fine young thing with the perkiest breasts I have ever seen on an elf. Yeah there is porn for everything man, and well, she had little pointy ears or they just looked pointy to me, but those breasts man, now I wanted to go over to the kernal and get a twenty piece.

  “Can I help you?” She asked.

  Damn, what I wanted her to help me with, I figured she would slam the door in my face. She looked nothing like Claire, but figured well, its Claire’s pic on the passport so what the hell. “Brenda McKay?”

  “Oh me? Heavens no.” She giggled and her tittles jiggled when she did so and they were natural, I could tell you that.

  “Is she here?”

  “No, she’s been away for oh, about a week now, I’m housesititng for her. Are you a friend of hers? Well, no, I guess you wouldn’t be if you asked if I was Brenda right?”

  “No I guess not. I mean, no, I don’t know her and I didn’t know, oh shoot well I was a friend of Claire’s”

  “Her sister? Brenda talks about her all the time. Hey come on in its hotter than hades out there. By the way my name is Heather.”

  She held out her hand and I took it and shook it and watched her boobies bounce to the beat. “Handy.” I said

  Nice to meet you darlin.”

  She smiled and led me in. “Handy hmmm, that’s a strange name isn’t it?”

  “Not to me, folks been calling me Handy for ages. So its old hat.”

  I followed her in and I must say the rear view was disappointing. It was flat as hell, like a twelve year old boys, not that I look at twelve year old boys or nothing perverted liked that she was just well, not as good going as coming if you know what I mean.

  Damn, Brenda was living large, nice big flat screen, some big old leather sofa, and some other cool furniture that I didn’t have the room for back in my pad, or I would have been jealous. I mean who needs all those chairs and places to sit, you only got one ass right? But it sure looked like some nice furniture. I walked in and she gestured to the couch so I sat, and it sounded like I farted.

  “Now that wasn’t me, belive me Heather.”

  She giggled again, “Oh lord, don’t worry about it, that damn sofa always makes noises. Care for a drink? Soda, water, beer?”

  I looked around, I guess she got the place, or at least the furniture in the divorce, then again, I wasn’t sure if they were living apart, some couples have some complicated ass relationships. I was on again and off again with this girl that worked at Carl’s Junior and she would be jealous when I would be dating someone else, even after she broke it off with me. People are just strange.

  “Anything you bring me will be fine as long as its wet.”

  She giggled again and ran off to the kitchen and returned in under a minute with a Natural Light. Damn, I would swear she was trying to take advantage of me by plying me with alcohol. Actually I was hoping she would bring me a beer but I didn’t want to be too presumptuous or anything. This was heading in the right direction I thought. She handed me the beer, and had one for herself.

  “So, Handy, are you going to tell me what’s going on, you know the police were here a few times already.”

  “Really, did they say why they were over?”

  “No, wouldn’t tell me a thing, asked for Brenda’s contact info. I gave them her cell phone number and they thanked me. They called the next day and said they reached her and thanked me for helping them out.”

  “Well, I guess that Brenda knows I didn’t really have to come, but I felt like I had to anyway. You see. Claire, her sister is dead.”

  “Oh my god.” She said and looked genuinely upset.

  “She was murdered but they got the bastard.” At least someone did, I thought.

  “I loved those two, well, I mean, I met Claire a few times, but she was good people.” She started to cry and I leaned in and offered her a shoulder and she took it and I hugged her close. I wanted to make a comment to her about her tittles feeling good against me but I didn’t really think it was the right time for that. So I just hugged her back. She stopped and got control of her self.

  “I wonder why Brenda didn’t call and tell me anything, why she hasn’t come back yet. How long ago did this happen? I mean, was she buried? The police came over like a few days ago, who did it? Was it that bastard she was going with? I bet it was him?”

  She kept going and I nodded and to be honest my eyes glazed over and I looked right past her at a bookshelf. I saw it had some books and some framed photos on it. I wanted to get up and check out the books and the pictures but didn’t want to seem like too much of a dick since, there was a good chance I may be able to parlay the situation into getting some.

  I reached out and touched her hand. “She was murdered and the police believed it was Mal, and well, he is dead now too and that’s all I know. I would think they need Brenda to get the body. Or they may need her still for the investigation. When do you expect her to come back?”

  She was hot even with her red and puffy eyes.

  “It’s almost a week now, and she isn’t due back for a few more days. She went on a cruise. First vacation since her divorce.”

  “When was that?”

  She thought about it for a moment, “well about two years, that’s when she moved here. They used to live in Americus. They were separated for some time but lived together for a while.”

  See, what I mean, strange.

  “That’s right, Claire mentioned her sister was married for a while.” I pointed toward the bookshelf. “Are those pictures of Brenda?”

  “Yes, some of her, she even has one of her ex for some reason there, Ed. Good old Ed and Brenda Mackey. I don’t know why to be honest. When I got divorced I burned all the pictures I had of that bastard.There are some pictures there of Claire as well. And a few nice ones of them together.”

  She kept chattering, I got up and mosied over to the wall and book case to see the pics. I scanned some titles and nothing interested me. I picked up a pick of Claire and some goofy looking dude.

  I set it down, and looked at the other pics, there was another one of Claire with Mal. I wondered who the goofy guy was, but I didn’t want to ask Heather because she may tell me and not shut up. There were a lot of pics, but they were all of Claire. It was fucking weird. In the background I could hear Heather saying something, but I was tuning her out. I came to the last picture on a lower shelf. It was odd, because it was a bit older, Claire still looked the same as she did when I ahd last seen her alive. The fucked up thing was, the other girl in the picture was also Claire. How fucking stupid could I have been, they were fucking twins.

  Chapter 21

  I knocked on Groefield’s door and waited for him. Through the frosty window I could see his shadow as he crept nearer, the words GROEFIELD, PI, in big gold letters on the glass. I considered bringing a permanent marker during the next visit and putting DICK in parenthesis beside the PI in case no one understood what PI meant or what Groefield was.

  He opened the door, pantless as usual, breathing heavy. “Handy,” he said, “I was just taking my afternoon nap on the couch. What brings you here?”

  I stepped inside the office. It smelled of mold and mothballs. “I went to see Brenda McKay. I found something interesting out.”

  “Ha, I knew you’d be back for my help,” Groefield said. “We friends now?”

  “Sure.”

  Groefield smiled, motioned for me to take a seat in a chair across from the couch he kept in his waiting room/living room. His legs were spread and a nut was hanging out. I tried to look away.

  “I bet I know what you found out,” Groefield said, crossing his legs. He was wearing plaid briefs.

  “What’s that?”

  “No, go ahead and tell me. I don’t want to give away too much of what I know in case you don’t know what I know, you know?”
/>   “Why would you know anything? You’re not on this case.”

  “Look, man. I’m old. I’m bored. Price is Right isn’t the same with Drew Carey, you know? I need something to get into.”

  I smiled. Groefield was a slob, a sorry excuse for a business man, and a pretty decent guy once you got to know him. I looked around the trashcan of an office he was running and said, “Brenda’s twin sister is Claire. They’re twins.”

  Groefield’s eyes twinkled. “That all you know, kid?”

  “What do you know?”

  “Well, I did a little looking into things. You know Brenda McKay is married?”

  “Yeah, a goofy looking bastard. I saw him in a photo back at her place.”

  “Does he look like this guy right here?” Groefield said, standing up and walking over to his desk. He shuffled through various papers, then brought a picture to me.

  I took it in my hands, studied it closely. “Mal and Claire making out?” I said. “So what, they were dating.”

  “No, no, no,” Groefield said. “That’s Mal and Brenda. I took that photo several days ago, soon after the last time we spoke in fact. It was a little after one o’clock. I know this because I had to rush to get to the Chinese Place before 2 p.m. That’s when the lunch special ends at two, and I’m not paying over $5 for some chicken lo mein.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “Anyway, kid, I decided to look into Mal, kind of see what was going on in case you needed my help. I staked out his apartment the other day. He shows up, walks inside, then comes right back out and takes off. I trailed him to this old abandoned building. Suspicious, right? I drove about a quarter of a mile from where he pulled in and parked my car on the side of the road. I walked for you, kid, I walked. I rounded the corner, came up on an old dirt road and followed it to the building.

  “What the fuck, I was thinking to myself. What the fuck is this? About that time, I heard a car coming and I jumped into the bushes. Bet you can’t guess who got out the car?”

  “Brenda McKay?”

  “Bingo. I snapped some shots with the long lens. Mal came out the front door and they made out like two high school kids on prom night. For a second I figured they were going to strip and fuck right there on the ground. They went inside, and I split. That Chinese food was calling my name.”