Dev Haskell Box Set 8-14 (Dev Haskell - Private Investigator)

by Mike Faricy

  “What about this Rikki, chick? I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’d have an address for her?”

  “Figured you’d ask that, I’m way ahead of you,” he said and pushed an envelope across his desk.

  I opened it up and pulled out a sheet of paper with a handwritten address and phone number as well as her social security number, all of it nice and neat. Leroy’s name and number were written at the bottom of the sheet.

  “Kare Phree?” I said reading the address. “What the hell is that? It sounds like some sort of sleazy retirement community.”

  “It’s a park.”

  “A park?”

  “Yeah, you know, mobile homes, bums, your general malcontents, a trailer park. It’s just about five miles west of town.” Leroy said then proceeded to give me detailed directions. I wrote them down on the paper.

  “Okay,” I said folding the paper and slipping it into a back pocket.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “No, this is great, appreciate the help.”

  “You be sure to tell old Tubby I was a big help.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that, Leroy.”

  “Good, now get the hell out of here. I need to get home and do some of the things I’ve been waiting on all damned day.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Kare Phree trailer park looked about as appealing as its name, not very. The sign at the entrance consisted of a four-by-four sheet of half-inch plywood painted with flaking white paint and the words Kare Phree stenciled in twelve-inch black letters. A large red arrow below the letters pointed toward the entrance.

  The lower left corner of the sign looked like some sort of rabid dog had bitten it off. Weeds, maybe three feet high effectively hid the lower half of the sign. There was an outdoor light attached to the top of the sign, but either the bulb had burned out or no one had bothered to turn the light on.

  Against my better judgment I followed the red arrow and entered the Kare Phree trailer park. The streets, if you could call them that, were little more than rutted dirt trails, winding off in different directions. Each seemed to be named after a president though not laid out in any apparent order. Rikki’s trailer was number 415 and sat somewhere on Madison Lane.

  The deep ruts and the occasional pothole or massive tree root made any thought of speeding an impossibility. As I eased through the place, I noticed more than one car up on blocks, bicycle frames missing wheels and seats, the occasional discarded mattress, and lots of broken pieces of furniture. Haphazard screened porches in various states of disrepair seemed to be tacked onto every other place. Rust appeared to be the common denominator among the trailers.

  I ventured deeper into the maze. More than a few large dogs barked, bared their teeth and strained at the ropes holding them in place. With all the trash bags piled up around the place one could only hope tomorrow was the collection day.

  As I turned onto Madison, I drove through a swarm of plastic wrappers blowing across the ruts in the road. A rusty mailbox numbered 415 was mounted on a weathered post leaning at an angle.

  Rikki’s place looked awfully dark and the single car parking area alongside her trailer sat empty. I pulled into the parking place as best I could, but the car still hung out into the rutted trail by a good five or six feet. Someone’s rabid dog continued to bark nonstop from a trailer nearby.

  I took out the piece of paper with Leroy’s notes and dialed the number he’d written down for Rikki.

  A recording clicked in after the first ring. “The number you have reached is temporarily not in service.” Meaning, her phone had been disconnected. That was disappointing, but from the very little I knew about her, not really a surprise.

  I gave a quick look around before I opened her mailbox. There were a number of envelopes along with at least a dozen grocery store circulars. I grabbed the envelopes and quickly fanned through them. A cable bill, two cellphone bills, and a couple of past due notices were interspersed with pre-approved credit card offers and a post card from St. Louis signed Eric.

  I opened up the past due notices. One was from the power company which just might explain the no lights. The second was from a credit card company stating that privileges had been revoked and would be reinstated just as soon as the bill for three-hundred-and-thirty-nine bucks was brought current. A third notice was from her bank alerting her to an overdraft for sixty-one dollars.

  I brought the envelopes up to the door. The front stoop consisted of six cinderblocks lying unevenly on their side. There was an aluminum screen door, but the door handle, the window and for that matter the screen were all missing. I knocked on the storm door and waited.

  The wooden storm door was a cheap, hollow-core thing with a wood veneer that was warped and peeling from the effects of weather exposure. Two large, black garbage bags were leaning against the trailer next to the door. Both bags looked to have been torn open by some sort of animal, probably another rabid dog, garbage was scattered around what passed for a front yard. Paper plates and wrappers had blown up against the hay bales positioned along the bottom of the trailer.

  I knocked again, at no surprise, no one answered. I did notice a curtain twitching in the trailer just across from Rikki’s. I knocked one more time before I tried the door knob. The door was locked, but I turned the knob hard and continued to apply pressure and gradually felt the cheap inner working of the device giving way. Something suddenly snapped and the door swung open.

  “Hello, hello. Anyone home?” I called then waited for an answer. I felt inside for a light switch, found one, flicked it on and off with no result. I pulled the aluminum frame of the screen door open and stepped inside.

  “Hello,” I called again and waited for an answer. Between the moonlight beginning to filter in and the light from a streetlight down the lane I could sort of see and make my way through the place. Something scurried across a floor off to the side in the kitchen area. From what I could see in the dim light the place was a mess.

  I tossed her mail on the floor then moved down the hall toward the bedroom in the back. I flicked two light switches along the way with no result. It would appear the power to Rikki’s trailer had definitely been turned off.

  At the far end of the trailer what served as a bedroom door stood open and hung at sort of an odd angle. Upon closer inspection the top hinge had been torn out of the cheap door. The double bed was unmade and a couple of dresser drawers were pulled open. Various articles of clothing littered the floor and were mounded up along one side of the bed. The place didn’t appear to have been ransacked as much as it looked like Rikki was just a total slob. The same cheap perfume smell I’d picked up from that hallway in the Lumberyard seemed to cling to everything in the bedroom.

  I headed back down the hallway toward the front door. Something else scurried along the kitchen cabinet as I approached and I stamped my foot for good measure which set off another scurry before everything grew quiet.

  I pulled the front door closed behind me and wandered over to the unit across the way where the curtains had been twitching. At least this unit had a functional screen door, not to mention a door bell that worked and lights.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Just a moment, please. Who is it?” a male voice called from inside. He sounded nervous, with maybe just a hint of having been caught in the act of doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

  “Hi, sorry to bother you, my name is Dev Haskell. I’m actually looking for your neighbor across the way, Rikki.”

  “Rikki? I haven’t talked to her for a day or two.”

  “Would you mind opening the door? I’m having trouble hearing you.”

  “Ahhh, yeah sure, just give me a minute. I’m moving a little slow these days, injured on the job,” he said. I waited out on his wooden stairs for what seemed like five minutes before he finally opened the door.

  He was tall and thin, with a shaved head, a hook nose and he looked like he weighed about a hundred-and-twenty-pounds soaking
wet. He moved slowly and seemed to wince with the effort of opening the door. He wore a large white plastic neck brace over T-shirt. The brace held his head in place and covered his shoulders like a pair of football shoulder pads. The whole affair was then strapped across his chest and extended down to the bottom of his ribs.

  I immediately felt sorry for bothering the poor guy. “Look, I’m really sorry to bother you. I was just across the way looking for Rikki and saw your lights on.”

  Since he couldn’t turn his head he shifted his feet so his entire body faced me, then he sort of groaned and said, “Sorry, after the accident I’m just not moving as fast as I should.” He gave a half hearted laugh then appeared to wince with the pain.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “I’ll make it, I think, I hope. I just want to get back to work as soon as possible. I’m sorry, who’d you say you were?”

  “Names Haskell, Dev Haskell, I’m looking for your neighbor, Rikki.”

  “If you paid her in advance she’s probably already out spending it somewhere,” he said.

  “No, nothing like that. I just wanted to talk to her about another matter I think she might be able to help with.”

  “Talk to her?” He said like the idea of talking with Rikki had never really occurred to anyone before.

  “Yeah, apparently she’s out, at least she didn’t answer the door when I knocked. You wouldn’t happen to have any idea where she might be, would you?”

  “You with the insurance folks?” he asked then winced with the pain of having to speak.

  “Insurance? No, I just wanted to talk to Rikki, see if she could help me find someone I’m trying to locate.”

  “So you ain’t with them insurance folks?” he said exhaling and seeming to relax a little more.

  “No, I just….”

  “Oh hell, come on in. Hale’s the name, Marion Hale,” he said then stepped aside and held the door open so I could come in.

  “Actually, I’m looking for Rikki, and I….”

  “I could maybe help you with that, she’s quite the busy lady. Come on, get in here, I ain’t gonna bite.”

  I stepped in, and Marion closed the door behind me. “You sure you ain’t with them insurance folks?”

  “No, I’m not with any insurance company.”

  “Cause I ask you, you gotta tell me, can’t be lying to me or it ain’t gonna stand up in court.”

  “Court? Honest, I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I’m just looking for Rikki. Turns out she was actually with someone last night and I’ve been trying to find the guy. I was hoping she could help.”

  “Bet she picked him up at the Lumberyard, right?” he asked then started to unstrap his neck brace.

  “Yeah, at least it would appear that’s the case. I don’t have a problem with Rikki. I just want to find the guy she was with. Say what’s with the brace, should you be taking it off?”

  “Sorry ‘bout that. I was afraid you was one of them insurance fellas. God, this damned thing is a pain in the ass, borrowed it from a pal. Can never be too careful, you know. I been on disability and got a worker’s comp claim in the works. Course the idiots denied it. Said I was out deer hunting and drinking up a storm. Don’t know how they found out about all that, the bastards. Anyway, borrowed this here thing to make it look a little more real. Let me tell you, it ain’t any fun having to strap this damned thing on and then pretend to limp around every time I go out.”

  “Yeah, I imagine that could get old pretty fast.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” he said pulling off the brace and tossing it in the corner. “How ‘bout them beers?”

  “Help yourself, but I better take a pass.”

  Marion gave me a strange look then opened his refrigerator. “Suit yourself. You don’t mind me saying you sort of look like shit. I’m thinking like you could maybe use a little pick me up. Bad fall or something?” he asked studying my face.

  “Yeah, something like that. You mentioned you might be able to help me locate your neighbor, Rikki.”

  “Yeah, you wouldn’t be the first poor bastard who showed up looking for her. Like I said, she’s one you definitely never want to pay in advance. I think the woman means well, but it’s a pretty sure bet she’s got a screw or two loose up there.”

  “Actually, like I said I’m looking for the guy she’s with, or at least was with last night, hoping to find him. I don’t have any beef with her.”

  “You ain’t some irate husband, looking to cut some poor bastards love-stick off, are ya?”

  “No, nothing like that. Sort of a gambling debt deal and I just want to arrange some payment terms, is all.”

  He sipped and nodded then said, “Gambling debt, that could be Rikki, she likes to play. What’s he look like?”

  “What’s he look like? Dark, curly hair, bit of a fat guy, maybe about my height.” I held my hand up to indicate the height.

  “He driving some fancy SUV that’s been beat to shit?”

  “A black Infiniti QX with a crease in the passenger door and a crack down the front windshield, silver rims.”

  Marion took a healthy sip then nodded. “Seen him, at least the car, they were here last night, but not for more than just a couple of minutes. Heard her screeching and laughing when they pulled up. It was sometime after midnight, God she can be loud, woke me up so I was looking out the bedroom window. She went inside, put some jeans on and then they were out of here.”

  “This guy have on a brown leather jacket?”

  Marion seemed to think about that for a moment then drained his beer. “Sure I can’t get you one?” he asked opening the refrigerator.

  I shook my head.

  “No, now that you mention it, can’t be too sure if he had a jacket or not, I mean I was half asleep, but I’m pretty sure she had one. The guy, he never went inside, just stood next to them trash bags out there. I think he was probably taking a piss. Then she waltzes right back out the door, some sexy dress on and all happy like. Then the two of ‘em climbed back in his piece of shit car and just drove off.”

  “You didn’t happen to see two little girls, with them, did you? Little, maybe just this tall,” I held my hand at about waist height. “One with blonde hair, the younger one’s a redhead. Four and five years old.”

  “Kids? Around Rikki? You gotta be kidding. No, thank God, didn’t see nothing like that. She ain’t the sort of woman you’d want your kids around. Means well, but there’s just always gonna be a problem. You know the type?”

  Unfortunately I did. “Any idea where they might be headed?”

  “Yeah, outta this dump,” he said then laughed and took a long healthy sip. “If old Rikki had anything to do with it you just might find the two of them up there to the Grey Wolf.”

  “The casino?”

  “Yeah, up on the res. Anytime Rikki has a couple of bucks to rub together she heads up that way to win big, although I’ve never, ever seen her come back a winner. If she’s got some poor sugar daddy on a leash, that would be as good a place as any to check. You said gambling debt … that would be a bad combination teaming up with her. Sure as hell she’ll lose whatever your pal gives her. Christ, they even know her up there. For all I know they might be giving her a discount, not that it really matters, they’re bound to get it back all the same,” he said and raised his eyebrows.

  “The Grey Wolf.”

  “’Bout the only place I can think of where she’d go.”

  “Okay, I guess I’ll give it a try, Marion. Hey, thanks for all your help, it’s been a pleasure, appreciate the info. Good luck on that workman’s comp claim,” I said and reached for the door.

  “You thinking of going up there, maybe I could just tag along. You know, help you locate her and all.”

  “Thanks, Marion, but I’m not going there right now. I’ll check it out tomorrow sometime.”

  “You find Rikki, you let her know we talked. Tell her I ain’t forgot I paid her forty bucks in advance and she dam
ned well needs to still make good on that. I’m gonna hold her to it.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell her.”

  “See that you do, appreciate it. How ‘bout one for the ditch?” He asked pulling another beer out of his refrigerator.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I fled the Kare Phree trailer park and headed north up to the Grey Wolf Casino. The last thing I needed right now was Marion Hale tagging along in his insurance fraud get up.

  The Grey Wolf casino was located in the middle of a vast Minnesota forest on the Cut Lake Reservation. Other than state-sponsored pull tabs, most forms of gambling are still illegal in Minnesota so the casino industry has sprung up on reservation lands heralding a badly needed source of revenue and jobs. Sometimes it’s been referred to as the second coming of the buffalo. It seems to have worked in a few cases and the jury’s still out on the others.

  I could only hope Rikki and idiot Carlos were locked into a losing slot machine or suffering from eternal bad luck at the black jack table. I put my foot down on the accelerator and pushed the car up to eighty miles an hour, tearing along the Minnesota back roads. I made it to Grey Wolf casino in record time and the better part of a tank of gas.

  The casino wasn’t just in the middle of a rural area. It was in the middle of about thousand square miles of dark, dense forest. As I drew nearer I’d be going over a hill and you could see the colored lights from the place reflecting in the night sky miles away.

  It’s more than a little strange to race along dark forest roads with the brights on hoping you won’t hit a deer or moose and then suddenly come around the bend and you’re suddenly face to face with this gigantic structure bathed in red, green, and yellow neon lights and all of them flashing and blinking.

  Considering it was a week night, the parking lot was pretty full. I cruised through the parking lot twice, up and down the lanes looking for my stolen car, but I didn’t see it anywhere. I did see a number of cars in the lot that were in much worse shape than the bomb I was driving. I estimated about every third vehicle parked in the lot was a pickup truck.