by Mike Faricy
“Trying to find a way in? Into my friend’s house? For who?” I asked then pulled the .38 out of my pocket and shoved it in my waistband making sure Freddy could see my every move.
“I probably shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t really mean it,” he said, sounding even more nervous.
“Hmmm-mmm, does that mean you were going to break into my friend’s house?”
“No, no honest.”
“That’s good. I didn’t think you’d do that, Freddy. At least I hope you wouldn’t, because that would make me very mad and I’m sure neither one of us would want that, would we?”
“No, you’re right, that wouldn’t be good.”
“Yeah, right, so who were you checking things out for? Who’s trying to get into my friend’s house?”
“I really can’t say.”
“Yeah you can, Freddy. You can tell me, after all we’re pals. Look, I even bought you a beer.”
“Yeah, I know, I already said thanks and all, but I really can’t tell you.”
“Sure you can, Freddy, well unless you want to see that fancy car of yours out there in the lot maybe get torched and then after I set it on fire, I’m gonna come back in here and look for you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, and I won’t be happy, because you’re playing me for a sucker and that makes me mad, Freddy. It really does.”
“I’m not playing you for a sucker, Mr. Haskell, honest. It’s just that he can be kind of mean and all and…”
I stuck my little finger back into Freddy’s ear gauge and pulled.
“Ahhh-hhhh, God don’t, come on that really hurts. Don’t ahhh-hhhh.”
“You got about three seconds to tell me, Freddy, or I’m going to rip this thing right out of your ear.”
For just a brief moment the bartender looked over from where he was sitting at the far end of the bar watching the ball game, then he went back to watching the TV.
“Three, two…”
“I can’t, I can’t tell you they’ll…”
“One,” I half yelled and yanked the gauge out of Freddy’s ear.
“Ahhh-hhhh,” he screamed loud enough that one of the regulars looked down our way and the bartender stood up off his stool and said, “Take it outside, fellas,” in a loud voice.
I grabbed Freddy by the back of the neck and moved him toward the front door.
Freddy had a bloodied hand over his ear and was screaming, “You maniac, are you fucking crazy? God, you tore my damn ear off, what in the hell is wrong with you? Jesus, that hurts.”
“Listen to me, you fat assed idiot, I’m gonna tear that gauge off your other ear, give you a matching pair unless you tell me what you were doing trying to get into that house tonight. You think I’m fooling? So help me God you better start talking or I will tear you apart.”
“I already told you, I can’t, he’ll kill me.”
“That’s exactly what I plan on doing,” I said and reached for his other ear.
Freddy pushed me away and started to run for his car. I sort of half jogged and caught up then dropped a foot or two behind while he kept waddling, trying to fish his keys out to unlock the car door. The lights on his Camaro blinked a moment later as he scurried toward the driver’s door. He pulled the door open and just as his fat ass was halfway in the car I slammed into the door full force.
It banged against Freddy and he gave a high-pitched yelp then staggered back a step or two. There was a vertical crease along the outside of the door where I slammed into it. I grabbed him by his Mohawk and bounced his head against the doorframe a couple of times. He stumbled back and started to slide down the side of the car. I lifted him with an uppercut to the chin and heard his teeth clack, then drilled him in what was left of his nose.
“Okay, okay, stop it, God. It was Bulldog, Tubby’s guy. Okay, you happy? Jesus, lay off, bitch, I didn’t do anything to you. God!”
“Bulldog?”
Freddy was bending over at the waist leaning against the Camaro with his hands on his knees. Blood from his nose and mouth was dripping down into a puddle on the asphalt parking lot. Blood from his ear had soaked a good portion of his shoulder and the front of his shirt. He stared at the ground and didn’t look up at me when he spoke.
“Yeah, Bulldog. He didn’t tell me why, honest he didn’t. He just said he wanted to get into the house, that the folks were moving and he was thinking of buying it back. Wanted to see what they’d done before he came up with a number.”
“Buy it back?”
“Yeah, that’s what he said, honest,” Freddy gasped.
“Why didn’t he just call? That doesn’t make any sense,” I half said to myself, but Freddy heard me.
“I don’t know, man. It’s Bulldog, it’s not supposed to make sense. He just told me to go there and find a way in. He said no one was living there. If I knew your friend was there I wouldn’t have tried the window, really, I wouldn’t lie to you. I promise I wouldn’t,” Freddy said then coughed and spit more blood a couple of times onto the asphalt.
Chapter Seven
I was lying awake on the couch at Casey’s wondering why Bulldog wanted to get into this place. It’s not like there was anything to really steal, maybe the flat screen, but a jerk like Bulldog would have access to an entire truckload just by making a phone call. Dermot’s laptop was three or four years old and besides, I didn’t think Bulldog knew the alphabet. Then there was the bit that he, Bulldog was a previous owner. Knowing Dermot and Casey, they would have run the other way rather than deal with someone like him. I double checked to make sure the .38 was on the coffee table then promised myself I’d call Casey in the morning and drifted off to sleep.
“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” Casey called and set down a couple of bags and a tray holding four coffees.
I sort of groaned then rolled over and sat up. My shoulders, neck and back made audible cracking sounds as I twisted left and right, then I burped.
“Charming. God, you slob, how could you trash this place all by yourself in just one night?” she asked then placed my ice cream dish in the bowl full of chicken wing bones. She stacked the empty dip container on top and picked it all up along with the cracker box. “I’ll come back and get all the beer bottles and I better bring the vacuum, you’ve got crumbs all over. There are toothbrushes in the top drawer to the right of the bathroom sink. Might be a good idea, then come on back, if I remember correctly you like caramel rolls for breakfast.”
“I like anything I don’t have to cook,” I said. Then picked up the .38 as discreetly as possible and slipped it into my pocket.
We were sitting in the den. Two plumbers were banging pipes out in the front room doing something to the radiator. I was almost finished with my second coffee and eyeing the third. Casey was about halfway through her first and still nibbling at the same caramel roll she’d started on twenty minutes earlier. She was doing the female thing; taking the smallest of bites, barely a morsel, eating that and then waiting. I’d already inhaled both my caramel rolls and was picking up errant crumbs from off the coffee table. I eyed the rest of her’s and decided to play rough.
“God, I guess I should have gotten more,” she said watching me lick my finger tips.
“Nah, this was great. Really hits the spot. I have to say, Casey, you look really great, have you lost a little weight?”
“Probably just the stress.”
“Well, you look like you’ve been working out, you look fantastic.”
“Thanks, Dev, that’s sweet,” she said then pushed her plate to the center of the coffee table. “Go ahead and finish that if you want, I’m really not that hungry.”
“Nah, I couldn’t. You sure, I mean you barely touched it?”
“Please, take it otherwise it will just go to waste.”
“Okay, I guess if you really don’t want it,” I said moving the plate over into my domain.
“No really, I’m full.”
“Hey, mind if I ask you something?” I said th
en took a bite that cut her caramel roll in half.
“Ask me and we’ll see.”
“I was wondering, how long have you guys been in this house?”
“You mean like why isn’t it finished?”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that.”
There was a sort of window bay area maybe five feet deep on the exterior wall of the den with four tall windows. The roof had leaked and probably still did where the bay jutted out from the main structure. Casey glanced up at the water-damaged plaster on the ceiling. It was cracked and stained a yellow brownish color. Unfortunate past experience told me those stains would bleed right through any paint. But then the plaster was so damaged the area would have to be replaced anyway so it didn’t really matter.
“All my friends from the burbs were always asking us when we were going to be finished. They just don’t get it, but then how could they? Anyway, let’s see, it was May when we moved in, and we had to get the furnace replaced before we moved. I think we closed the end of March. So that’s…” She counted silently on her fingers, then said, “So I guess that’s about twenty-eight months.”
“You remember who you bought it from?”
She ignored my question and took a detour down memory lane instead. “It was going to be our house forever. I mean with four bedrooms upstairs there’d be plenty of room for kids. We were going to live here for the next fifty years. Of course things happen and…”
“Do you remember who you bought it from?” I asked again. “Who lived here before you?”
“The seller?”
“Yeah, was it a family or an old couple, who was it?”
“I can’t really say. It was sort of strange. It was never officially on the market, you know with a sign out front or anything like that. We sort of heard about it by word of mouth, I can’t even remember who told us. I do know it had been empty, but not for too long. Sort of a weirdo character at the closing representing the sellers. He was a lawyer I think, Johnny or Jamie something. I suppose I’ve got his card around here somewhere in a file, sleazy type, with a home dye-job on his dreadful slicked back hair. He kept leering at me and I remember when he gave me his card he sort of held my hand and raised his eyebrows like there was a lot more available if I wanted it.”
“What did you do?”
“Ran to the ladies room and washed my hands with disinfectant, twice. What a creep. We never met the owners, I think they were traveling or something?”
“Traveling, like they were in the circus or what?”
“Yeah, that’s right, Dev, the circus. No, it was like they were out of town, out of state for that matter. I don’t know Europe, Hawaii, China maybe, anyway not living the sort of life we had,” she said and then I could see the tears beginning to well up in her eyes and so I changed the subject.
“Hey, how would you feel if I moved in, temporarily, just so the place isn’t empty at night?”
“Did you see him, did he come back?”
“No nothing,” I lied. “I would guess it was someone like Louie said. You know, they heard this might be going on the market and they wanted to drive by. That might actually be kind of a good thing since you’re going to sell.”
“Yeah, I won’t be able to keep up the payments by myself and then, well probably not the best idea to stay. Hey, I appreciate the offer, Dev, but I really can’t impose on you like that. After all, you were kind enough to come last night when I phoned in panic mode and….”
“Casey, it wouldn’t be an imposition. Really, besides you’ll sleep better and you know how I can worry so how ‘bout we just agree I’ll spend the nights here.”
“I could pay you, not much, but…”
“No. You don’t need to pay me. I’d like to do it, really.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yup.”
“I mean I could probably….”
“No, Casey, look I’ll be back here around five tonight. If you could go out today, maybe get me a set of keys, we’ll be all set.”
“I suppose you could use Dermot’s,” she said and then the tears welled up again.
Chapter Eight
“You’re kidding me, the two of you are shacking up?” Louie asked.
“No, you low dripper, we’re not shacking up. She’s staying at her brother’s place. I’m just going to be there at night to make sure no one breaks in.”
“Did you tell her about that Fat Ass guy?”
“Fat Freddy? No, to answer your question. Nothing I could say was going to help in that vein, God she’d just obsess and worry. I just told her it had been a quiet night and let it go at that.”
Louie nodded.
“I could use your help on something.”
“What’s that?” Louie asked.
“Well, if you wouldn’t mind doing a little research, maybe you could sort of check out the history of the place. Fat Freddy said they bought the place from Bulldog. Casey said whoever owned it was out of town traveling in Europe or China when they closed on it. That sure doesn’t sound like Bulldog. I’m going to wander over there this afternoon, knock on some doors to introduce myself and see if the neighbors can tell me anything.”
“I’ll check it out. When you talk to Casey, ask her if she has a copy of the abstract, it might be interesting to go through that.”
I nodded, then said, “She mentioned some sleazy lawyer handled their closing. Guy actually made a pass at her. His name was Johnny or Jamie something like that, he had slicked back dyed hair. Ring any bells?”
“Sleazy? God it could be just about anyone. Jackie Van Dorn comes to mind. He’s certainly sleazy. He’s got this pencil thin mustache thing and dyed black hair, God knows why, the only person he’s fooling is himself. Looks like something out of a ‘B’ grade movie from the 40’s. Yeah, I could see him making a pass at someone during a real estate closing. He fancies himself as a man-about-town, it’s comical.”
I was knocking on neighbors’ doors later that afternoon. No one answered at the two homes on either side of Casey’s place. The third house was a three-story, two-toned green Victorian that sat directly across the street. I climbed the steps to the front porch and knocked on the carved oak door. A large picture window looked out onto the porch, a stained-glass window in a floral pattern sat above it.
“Yes,” a voice called from behind the door.
“Hi, I just wanted to introduce myself, my name is Dev Haskell. I’m going to be spending some nights across the street at Casey and Dermot’s.”
A nice looking woman opened the door a moment later. I pegged her around mid-seventies and thought I may have recognized her from Dermot’s funeral the other day.
“Hi, my name is Dev Haskell,” I said again.
She opened the door wider and gave me a top to bottom examination, visibly moving her head up and down. “Are you a policeman?”
“No, I’m not. I’m just a friend of Casey and Dermot’s. Under the circumstances, Casey is a bit uncomfortable spending evenings there and so she’s staying somewhere else. We just didn’t want the place to be empty at night, with all the publicity it seemed like it might be inviting a problem. I just wanted to say ‘hi’ so when you see some strange guy wandering around over there, well, it’s me.”
“Mmm-hmm, dreadful business that was. We’ve all been on guard ever since. Who would have thought? The taxes we pay in this city and that sort of thing happens, I don’t know. Oh, now just listen to me going on, how is she doing, Casey?”
“I think pretty well under the circumstances. She’s here every day, hauling some things out, clothes mostly, and then checking in on the workmen. There were plumbers there this morning and I think a contractor, kind of tough to keep up.”
“So sad, I can’t blame her for not wanting to stay there, but we so loved her. Loved them both, such a pity. They’ll be missed,” she said and shook her head.
“Do you know who lived there before? Who they bought the home from? I have this feeling I was here once before, a few
years back, but it’s not ringing any bells. I just can’t seem to put my finger on it.”
“Well, yes and no. There were a host of renters through there over the better part of five or six years until Casey and Dermot moved in. Good lord, it became the worst home on the block, all sorts of awful characters coming and going at all hours of the day and night. God only knows the sort of nonsense that went on over there.”
“Then the Gallagher’s bought it, thank God. But as to who owned it, who they bought it from, no I don’t actually know. We’ve been here forty-six years, the Speer family was in there for a good twenty plus then someone bought the home from them and immediately turned it into a rental property. Things seemed to go downhill quickly from there. You can just imagine.”
“There was one woman, strange sort of thing. Unbalanced might be the best word I can think of. Dressed like she was the worst sort of street person, but I heard from one of the neighbors she was some kind of missionary.”
“Missionary?”
“Yes, apparently she was involved in a kind of preaching and saving souls or some such business. I suppose if you’re going to be saving those afflicted it helps to look and act like them.” She raised her eyebrows in a way that suggested there might be a lot more to the story then she knew.
“You don’t remember her name?”
“No, I haven’t the foggiest. To tell the truth, even if I’d known she was saving souls I’d still keep a safe distance. You know how it goes, trouble just naturally seems to find that sort.”
I guess I did know, maybe. I thanked her, gave her my card and left. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something she said that seemed to ring a distant bell. My memory was hazy at best and it was like looking into a thick patch of fog when I tried to come up with whatever or whoever it was. I went back across the street, sat on the porch swing and waited for Casey.
Chapter Nine
Casey showed up a little after five and gave me a wave as she climbed out of her car. She looked both ways before she crossed the street then chirped the car alarm system and headed toward me.
