by Mike Faricy
“I mean this as a friend, Dev we don’t want you involved. This is delicate, we’re working it the best we can. No one can do a better job, Dev, we’ve got the resources. So please, do not get involved. You’ll only be screwing things up. I hope I’m making myself clear?”
“Yeah, not to worry. I understand, relax and take a chill pill, man. I plan to stay cool, very cool.”
“Please, see that you do.”
“I said I would, I promise.”
“I’m holding you to that, Dev.”
Aaron was still there when Isabella came out of her bedroom. She looked and sounded groggy almost like she’d been drugged which, upon reflection, I guess was pretty much the case. Officer Patty said her good-byes, told us to hang in there and that she’d be back for the late shift if it was needed. She was relieved by another great looking female uniform, Officer Vang.
“Let’s keep it simple, just call me Tai,” she said. Then she proceeded to make a fresh pot of coffee and opened up a box filled with fresh croissants. She placed the box on the dining room table. “My aunt and uncle own a bakery over on University Ave. We all had to work there as kids.”
“I thought you cops just ate doughnuts.”
She shot a smile at me that was meant to be anything but charming.
Aaron reached in and grabbed a croissant, then took a sip of hot coffee. It dawned on me that he’d been working through the night and was as exhausted as Isabella looked and at least as tired as I felt, he’d had absolutely no sleep and probably no break in the action for the immediate future.
The uniform who had arrived with Aaron removed his jacket, nodded at Isabella and said, “I’m Gary Johnson, I’ve got a list of people we’ve been talking to. I’d like you to take a look and see if there might be anyone we’ve missed, maybe a name that might pop up we hadn’t considered or maybe someone we should reconsider.”
Aaron sat down at the dining room table and rubbed his face as Johnson handed a two-page list across the table. He looked as tired as Aaron and I guessed he’d probably been rousting folks out of bed for the past ten hours, not exactly the best way to win a popularity contest.
Isabella quickly ran down the list then turned to the second page and said, “To tell you the truth, I only recognize a couple of these names. I think this Luci O’Kelly is his grandmother, isn’t she?”
“His grandmother?” Johnson said and shot a look at Aaron. “Mrs. O’Kelly is in an assisted living facility, suffering from Alzheimer’s, she was unable to be much help. She’s his grandmother?”
“Yes, his parents have a nice condo in town somewhere, not sure where, actually. I do know they have a home in, I think Florida and also in the south of France. God, you don’t think he’s taken the girls out of the country?”
“No, it would be impossible without passports. The parents, what are their names?” Aaron said.
“The same, Carlos, he’s a junior, Carlos the jerk that is, not the father. I think his mother’s name is Mary. Virgin Mary, Carlos always called her, very religious woman, I guess. I’ve never met her. Like I told them last night I think he’s been estranged from his parents for a while, but his mother sneaks him money from time to time.”
Johnson and a couple of the other officers were writing things down.
“The only other name I recognize is this Arthur Goodwin. Isn’t he the lawyer who did the plea bargain for Carlos? He had him sent to rehab instead of the workhouse on that last aggravated assault charge, didn’t he?”
That’s correct. Mr. Goodwin is with the public defenders office and was the court appointed attorney in the case you mentioned. We’ll be talking to him first thing this morning.”
I glanced over at the clock on the stove, it was only twenty minutes before seven. If Goodwin had any sense he was still home in bed.
“Let me give you an update on what we have so far, which isn’t much, but that doesn’t mean it’s necessarily all bad,” Aaron said
A cloud seemed to cross over Isabella’s face.
“Based on what we’ve learned up to this point, it would appear the girl’s abduction was a spur of the moment incident. It may have been triggered by Mr. Haskell’s appearance at the front door or perhaps you’re not being home. Right now, we don’t know. The positive side of this is that it means this was not a planned undertaking. What that suggests is there is an increased possibility that the girls will be released, possibly sooner rather than later. We are continuing our search and in fact redoubling our efforts. We have a statewide BOLO out for Carlos O’Kelly as well as your girls and just to be on the safe side we’re extending that across a five-state region. I know it’s difficult if not near impossible, but the best thing you can do for both yourself and especially for the girls, is to remain calm and stay positive until we get them back. And, we will get them back.”
Isabella nodded like she accepted the fact they were doing everything possible, which at the moment, other than rousting people out of bed in the middle of the night wasn’t much.
“Let’s extend that BOLO to all the states enroute to Florida. Find out the address of that Florida residence and contact local authorities and see if we can track down the parents of this idiot,” Aaron said.
Isabella got up and walked into her bedroom then came back out a moment later. “I hoped like hell I’d never, ever have to use this again,” she said and threw a faded yellow ribbon onto the table.
I’d seen it before. It had been tied to the tree out front when her husband Danny had been deployed. She’d kept it up for a few days after she got the word he’d been killed, but after the funeral she’d asked me to take it down for her. I’d hoped like hell I’d never ever see the thing again.
Chapter Five
Aaron and Officer Johnson remained at Isabella’s for a while longer. By the time they were ready to go there were easily a half dozen officers in the place monitoring the equipment set up to triangulate cellphone towers, tape calls, or God knows what.
It was all different from what we used to see in the old movies. Isabella was like the majority of the under fifty population living in the western world. She wasn’t in the phone book and she didn’t have a land line.
As a matter of fact, one of the reasons she’d gotten a completely different cellphone number was because she had received a series of harassing phone calls from Carlos prior to his sentencing and entering rehab. The police were thinking her new phone number just might have been the event that precipitated his evening visit a little over twelve hours ago.
Aaron pulled me aside and said, “Hey, look, Dev, I’m about to take off. I could drop you down at Regions Hospital and let you get checked out. I can have someone standing by to give you a lift home once you get the okay. All you’ll have to do is give me a call once the doc is finished checking you out.”
“Thanks, but I’m okay, really,” I said then sort of hung on to the kitchen counter behind my back until things stopped spinning.
“I think you should get checked out, Dev, just as a precaution if nothing else. You took a couple of really hard hits to your thick skull. Even a little pea brain like yours is bound to be effected.”
I shook my head slowly and made a mental note that I didn’t feel like I was going to throw up when I did it, which I took as a small sign of improvement. “Thanks, but if you’d let me hop a ride and then if you could just drop me off at home that would really help. Of course I’d be forever in your debt. I just need to get cleaned up, change my clothes, plus I need to figure out what the hell I’m going to do for transportation until I get my car back from that bastard.”
“I’d be happy to do that on one condition, Dev. All I ask is just one simple, little favor.”
“Will you just relax, I already promised you I wouldn’t get involved. How the hell would I even be able to do that, Aaron? Right now, in case you forgot, I’m on foot for Christ’s sake. And just for the record, between my head throbbing and things spinning, I feel like I’m running at about fifty
percent. All I want to do is rest up and get back to some semblance of normal.”
“Whatever that is. Okay, I believe you, just as long as we understand one another. The last thing….”
“I got it, honest. You guys just bring those two little girls back home safe and sound.”
I had my head tilted back and my eyes closed for most of the ride home. I focused on keeping my stomach down every time Aaron rounded a curve or slowed to a stop, but thankfully the fireworks seemed to have stopped, at least for the moment. Neither one of us had spoken until Aaron turned onto Selby by the Cathedral. The huge bells were just in the process of chiming out the time and at first I thought the sound was coming from inside my head.
“We get anything breaking on this, Dev, I’ll let you know as soon as possible. Just remember your promise and stay away. That’s the very best thing you can do to help bring this thing to a positive conclusion.”
“For God’s sake, Aaron, how the hell could I possibly forget? If you’re not reminding me, you’re threatening me every other time you say something. What part of ‘I won’t get involved’ don’t you believe?”
“I’d still like to get you down to the ER. Get that head looked at, I know you think it’s getting better, but they might just pick something up on an x-ray.”
“Yeah, and I’d like to get an hour long back rub from Officer Patty along with some very personal attention from Officer Vang, but that ain’t gonna happen either.”
“Only ‘cause there’s a couple hundred guys in line ahead of you. If that’s the way you’re thinking you’re starting to come back around.”
“Like I said, twenty-four hours will do a lot for my recovery. Besides, what if they give me an x-ray and they find out I don’t have a brain?”
“In that case, no one would be the least bit surprised. Anything comes to mind or happens on your end, Dev, you give me a call. I’ll answer right away, I promise,” he said then pulled to a stop in front of my place and faced me. “Last chance, I can have you down at Regions Hospital in about four minutes.”
“Thanks, but the first, in fact the only priority is getting those two little girls back to Isabella. You just stay on the case and get this Carlos jackass off the streets before he does anymore damage.”
“Then get the hell out of my car and let me get back to work,” he smiled.
“Now it’s my turn to say you look like shit and could use some rest.”
“In time, Dev, all in good time.”
Chapter Six
I had a key to my front door hidden behind the drain pipe running down the side of the garage. Mercifully, I’d returned the thing to its hiding place after the last time I used it. I stepped in through my front door, took a deep breath and thought it felt awfully damned good to be home and in familiar surroundings. That feeling lasted just about a nanosecond once I started to rehash all that had gone on since I had headed over to Isabella’s yesterday just to watch her girls for a couple of hours. Things can change so quickly.
Right now, what I really needed was a long hot shower and then some serious sack time if I was going to be of any help to anyone.
I’d been standing in the shower for quite some time, just letting the water run over me and thinking. The water was hot, steaming and it felt good to at least figuratively wash away recent events. I was extremely cautious with the bruising on my face, my head still hurt, but nothing like the throbbing I’d experienced last night. Still, I couldn’t get those two little girls out of my mind. God help dip-shit Carlos if anything happened to those little angels, I’d hunt that bastard down to the ends of the earth and then take great pleasure inflicting all sorts of pain.
As I stood there thinking, I actually felt a slight chill, even though I was standing under the hot shower and I thought that probably signaled it was time to just hit the sack and get some serious sleep. I turned the shower off and just stood while the water dripped off me for a brief moment, listening to the last of it gurgle down the drain. Then I pulled the shower curtain back.
“Oh, shit, it’s just you. Here I was hoping to catch some beautiful babe. Looks like you could probably use a towel.”
“Fat Freddy” Zimmermann grinned then held out his hand and nodded at the towel bar on the far wall. One of two huge thugs wedged in the doorway smirked and then reached over, pulled a towel off the bar and placed it in Freddy’s hand. Freddy tossed the towel over to me.
He gave me the once over, moving his head up and down. “Hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you really look like shit, Haskell.”
“That seems to be a common perception. I think I’ve already heard that once or twice before today. Just what the hell are you guys doing in my bathroom? How in the hell did you even get into my house?”
“Fortunately for us, security apparently isn’t your strong suit. The front door was unlocked so we just thought this might be the perfect time to stop in and say ‘hi.’ Oh yeah, and Tubby would like the honor of your presence if you can fit it in, like right, fucking, now.”
Tubby Gustafson represented the seamy underside of the saintly city. He was St. Paul’s version of a homegrown crime boss. Grossly over weight, he was devious, a liar, politically connected, and a certifiable psychotic wacko. All of which were probably reasons why he and “Fat Freddy” got along so well.
Last I knew, Freddy had risen up in the ranks and was now serving as Tubby’s enforcer. Although, given the size of the two Neanderthal muscle bound thugs standing behind him, Freddy probably didn’t have to get his hands too dirty on most days.
We had at least a passing working relationship, Freddy and I. He pretty much did whatever the hell he wanted and I pretty much tried like hell to stay as far away as humanly possible.
“Mind if I put some clothes on?”
“I think we’d all prefer if you did. By the way, what in the hell did happen to you? I wasn’t kidding, Haskell, you really do look like shit. Another bout with the sidewalk or did someone’s husband come home early and take exception to you resting between his wife’s thighs?”
“Something like that,” I said then took the towel from Freddy and began to dry my back.
“No offense, Haskell, but I think I’ll just take a pass on your little show. I might just have to hightail it downstairs to the kitchen and check things out. By the way, in case you’ve forgotten, Tubby doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Why don’t you two help Mister I-Forgot-to-Duck, get dressed,” he said to the two thugs as he exited the bathroom. I could hear the stairs creak as he made his way down to my kitchen, no doubt intending to raid my refrigerator.
“Who the hell do you expect to please with that little thing?” the thug leaning against the doorframe asked and pointed at me. Then the two of them laughed out loud at their fantastic sense of humor.
“Sorry, boys, I never liked whisker burn, so I guess you just wouldn’t be my cup of tea. But, hey, who am I to object, whatever you two are into on your own time is none of my damned business.”
They gave one another a confused look then one of them growled, “Get your ass out here and get dressed, jerk-off.”
My headache had returned to full throbbing force by the time we walked back to the kitchen. There were already a number of candy bar wrappers crumpled up on my kitchen counter next to the empty bag. Freddy held about a dozen Oreo cookies in his paw. He was chewing vigorously on the two or three he had already crammed into his mouth and looked ready to reload as soon as he swallowed.
“God,” he said spitting cookie crumbs across the kitchen counter. “Can’t really say you look all that much better, but I guess it will just have to do. You know how Tubby is.”
Unfortunately, I did know how Tubby was and it wasn’t doing much to improve my mood. “Can you tell me what this is about? Give me some idea what it is I was supposed to have done.”
“If you really want to know I can give you at least a hundred thousand reasons. So if I were you, I’d start thinking pretty damned hard about how you plan to expl
ain yourself. Come on, let’s go,” Freddy said then snatched up what was left of my package of Oreo’s and waddled out of the kitchen to the front door.
Chapter Seven
The ride to Tubby’s private lunch time dining room was uneventful, as long as you didn’t mind being crammed into the backseat of a Cadillac Escalade wedged between six hundred plus pounds of degenerate thuggery. Unfortunately, we seemed to make the drive in record time and quickly pulled into the No Parking zone along the curb. We screeched to a stop directly in front of the opulent double doors leading into The Derby, Tubby’s exclusive restaurant.
The door on the right hand side had a piece of plywood over the area where the glass should have been. There were two guys working on the front doors. They were dressed in white overalls, short sleeve shirts with logos over the left breast and white baseball caps that said Abbott Paint above the brim.
Tool boxes were scattered on the sidewalk and it looked like they were getting ready to install a large glass panel in the right hand door. One of the guys was busily unscrewing a piece of plywood from the door. A set of sawhorses stood on the sidewalk with a beveled glass panel resting across it. Brown paper wrapped around the glass had been partially torn off and was blowing back and forth in the gentle breeze.
As we pulled along the curb a thug leaning against the building straightened up then hurried over to open the car door for “Fat Freddy.” As he oozed out of the front seat, the now empty, crumpled Oreo package he’d taken from my kitchen cabinet fell onto the sidewalk.
The workman with the drill stepped aside and gave Freddy a nod as he entered The Derby. I followed between the two Neanderthals and the workman sort of shook his head slightly when he looked at my battered face as if to say, “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”
I felt that was a pretty accurate assessment.
The Derby’s dim interior featured larger than life bronze colored, plastic statues in a sort of “Roman” motif positioned about every ten feet along the exterior walls. The statues, all naked women, held a bottle in one hand and a stemmed glass in the other. The figures were posed in various stages of toasting with the stemmed glass. Each statue had a black blindfold tied securely over her eyes. It seemed typical Tubby, vintage low class and I tried not to contemplate any further images of Tubby’s idea of restaurant debauchery.
