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

by Mike Faricy

  She reached onto the bed and held up a pair of garden clippers. “My intention wasn’t to have him fall. It’s just that once we took your advice and came upstairs I was afraid that bastard might come in through a window. I merely intended to cut the branch and deny him access. I’d no idea that he’d fall,” she said looking like she didn’t believe her own words.

  “Did you tell this to the police?”

  “Not in so many words, they never really asked.”

  “So when I heard him plead “No, no, don’t,” he was talking to you?”

  “Quite possibly.”

  “Well, it seems to have worked in your favor. I would guess Denis won’t be around between now and The Blessington to bother you. Look, it’s late and we should probably get going, come on Morton,” I said and we left Natasha in the bedroom holding the pair of clippers with a very satisfied looking Princess Anastasia.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  On the way home I lectured Morton about proper guest behavior, not screwing the hostess and the importance of just saying ‘no’. It didn’t seem to make an impression. We resumed our positions on the couch, or the floor in Morton’s case and promptly fell asleep.

  Heidi’s phone call woke me at nine the following morning.

  “Are we still on for tonight?”

  “Tonight?” I groaned and sat up on the couch trying to remember what we had planned.

  “Figures, you said you wanted to go with me to my investor’s concert. Tommy Allesi. I told you he sent me tickets and you said you wanted me to introduce you to him.”

  “Oh, yeah. Umm, I’d still like to tag along if you’re going.”

  “Okay, I’ll pick you up at six-thirty, don’t be late. And please, wear something presentable, I don’t want you embarrassing me.”

  “Embarrassing you?”

  “Dev, this is business for me, important business. I don’t want you screwing anything up. Tommy Allesi is an important client, one of, if not the most important client at the moment. Okay?”

  “I get it, not to worry.”

  “Thank you. Just wear something nice, all right?”

  “Don’t I always?”

  “Don’t even go there,” she said and hung up.

  I phoned Natasha about a half hour later and ended up leaving a message. I phoned her again a little after ten and when I was dumped into her message center I put Morton in the car and we headed back over to her home.

  There was a van from a local service station parked in her driveway and a guy was busy replacing the tires on her camper. It looked like he was just starting on the third tire. I left Morton in the car and climbed the steps to the front porch. What looked like breakfast dishes and a tea pot where scattered around the wicker coffee table at the end of the porch. I rang her doorbell.

  “Yes, Mr. Haskell,” she said a minute later after she opened the door.

  “Sorry to bother you. It’s just that I hadn’t heard anything and wanted to be sure you were okay.”

  She flashed a seductive smile and said “We’re fine, thank you.”

  “Were you planning to work with Princess Anastasia today?”

  “Yes, of course, actually we’re in the middle of our warm-up. But, as you can see we’re unable to travel anywhere until that gentleman has completed his tasks. Four slit tires, nothing that a thousand dollars won’t cure,” she said nodding in the direction of her camper.

  “To be quite honest, Princess Anastasia seems, I’m not quite sure, distracted, or perhaps ambivalent? I’m afraid the events of last night may have caused her to lose her focus.”

  Morton, you idiot, I thought.

  “We’re working up in the ballroom on the third floor. I think for the time being I’d like as little interruption as possible and hopefully we’ll be able to regain her focus in time for The Blessington.”

  “How about I just stay here, outside, keep an eye on things and once your camper is ready to go I’ll ring the doorbell.”

  “That would be perfect. The gentleman from the service station has my credit card information so he needn’t interrupt. If you’d be so kind as to run interference I’ll return to getting Princess Anastasia refocused.” With that she flashed another seductive smile then closed the door, locked it and headed for the staircase.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I sat on the front porch for another forty-five minutes watching walkers, joggers, bikers and the traffic pass by. The service station guy had rolled the slit tires to the back of his van and was loading them up when I walked over to him.

  “I guess you got everything you need?” I said.

  “Yeah, good to go,” he said without looking up then tossed another tire into the back of his van.

  “I’ll let her know you’re finished.”

  He tossed the final tire in the back then closed the double doors, took a rag out of his back pocket and proceeded to wipe his hands.

  “You maybe take a little advice?” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t know how much dope you got stored in that thing,” he glanced over at the camper. “But I could smell it just changing these tires. I know they lightened the law a bit, but from what I could smell I’d say you got a hell of a lot more than a couple of ounces. You get nailed with what I suspect you got in there, you’re probably looking at maybe twenty years, close to a quarter million in fines and that don’t even start to cover your legal costs. You might want to think about that.”

  “Dope?”

  “Look, whatever. I sure as hell ain’t gonna narc on ya, but a word to the wise. Right now you’re playing with fire. Wouldn’t take much for someone to catch on is all I’m saying. You have a nice day, tell the lady thanks and ah, you be careful.”

  With that he climbed into his van and drove off.

  I walked around the camper sniffing the air. Now that he mentioned it, yeah I could smell dope.

  I let Morton out of the car and tossed the Frisbee to him for about twenty minutes then put him back in the car. I went up to the door and rang the door bell.

  Natasha opened the door a few minutes later. I was sitting in the wicker couch gazing out at the street watching the foot traffic. The breakfast dishes were still scattered over the wicker coffee table, but I’d moved the tea pot so I could put my feet up.

  “Mr. Haskell, I see your man is finished. I’m thinking about returning to Hidden Falls, how does that strike you?”

  “Sounds fine. Say, could we talk for just a moment?”

  “That’s about all the time I have, a moment. What is it?”

  “The guy who changed the tires on your camper, he added a note of caution.”

  “Oh good heavens, don’t tell me, it’s the brakes, isn’t it?”

  “Actually no, it’s the dope.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “The dope you’ve got stashed in there. I didn’t pick up on it until he mentioned it, but you can smell it just standing next to the camper. He thought it could lead to some potential problems. Actually, I think his quote was something like, “twenty years and a quarter of a million in fines.”

  Natasha put a hand on her cocked hip, clenched her lower jaw and turned on the Ivy League accent. “This nation’s stance on cannabis has been ridiculous to the point of….”

  “Please, Natasha, I didn’t mention this to get into a discussion about the nations drug policy. I do know you have to have a pretty fair amount stored in there to be able to pick a scent up outside. I was able to do that, so was that service station guy. It’s not a huge leap to see the wrong sort of individual getting wind of it, pardon the pun.”

  “What do you intend to do?”

  “Do? Nothing, I’m just warning you, I picked up on it and if I can, so will someone else. Maybe that’s what Tommy Allesi or vine climbing Denis was concerned about. I don’t know. I’m just telling you the way you have it hidden isn’t very safe, for you or Princess Anastasia. That’s all on that subject. I do have one more quest
ion.”

  “I think we agreed you would be paid upon completion.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine, but it wasn’t my question. I wanted to know why you suggested to the cops last night we hadn’t seen one another for the past few weeks? They didn’t ask me and so I didn’t offer, but if they do ask I would have to tell them the truth, that we have a contract and that we’ve worked together everyday for almost the past week.”

  “I just didn’t want them to get the wrong impression.”

  “Wrong impression?”

  “If they knew I had hired you, a private investigator, that could possibly lead to questions, far beyond the Blessington Show,” she said and glanced over at the camper. “I appreciate your concern and as it happens I’ll be making the appropriate adjustment within the next twenty-four hours. Satisfied?”

  “I guess for now.”

  “Splendid, let’s get to work then. Why don’t you go and secure the Hidden Falls site, Princess Anastasia and I will follow along shortly.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. I did notice the princess giving the occasional glance toward Morton pacing in the back seat of my car, much to Natasha’s dismay. I approached her toward the end of the afternoon.

  “Natasha, I’ve got a meeting I have to attend this evening and I’m going to have to leave a little early.”

  “How early?”

  “Now, actually.”

  “But I haven’t finished and we’ve barely a day left.”

  “This concerns your situation, you and Princess Anastasia, I don’t want to go into too much just now, but I should have a tighter handle on things later this evening.”

  “If it’s something that concerns the two of us I think we certainly have a right to be made aware of what, exactly is happening.”

  “Nothing’s happening. I’m just meeting with some people and want to get a little broader picture is all.”

  “You’re not making any sense. Is this related to our earlier discussion?”

  “No.”

  She looked like she didn’t believe me. I didn’t want to tell her I was just going to Tommy Allesi’s piano concert.

  “Well, then, apparently we’re finished for the day. Come along Princess Anastasia,” she said then clapped her hand twice and the two of them marched off toward the camper. The princess gave a lengthy glance toward Morton, he stared back longingly at her from the back seat of my car.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  I was standing out on the curb when Heidi picked me up. As I climbed into the car she said, “That’s what you’re wearing?” by way of a greeting. I had on black slacks, a black shirt and a light colored sport coat.

  “Having seen your client twice, he was sort of dressed like this both times. What? Do you think I look too formal?”

  She pulled away from the curb shaking her head.

  “Where is this thing anyway, that country club of his, The Lady Slipper?”

  “No, it’s actually at Central High School,” she said pushing the car to a Heidi speed, a good ten miles above the posted limit.

  “Central?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know, maybe it’s about the acoustics or something. I know they have a music auditorium, but the reception afterward is at the Lady Slipper. Maybe he invited a lot of people and he has a big crowd coming.”

  We pulled into the high school parking lot, then pulled out a couple of minutes later and parked on the street because the lot was already full.

  “I guess you were right, looks like he invited a lot of people.”

  “And families, look at all the little kids,” Heidi said.

  “There must be some other event going on here tonight, a kindergarten open house or something.”

  “They don’t have kindergarten in high school, Dev,” she said as we climbed the stairs to the front door. Once in, a large sign that read “Music Recital” with an arrow directed us and we followed the flow of the crowd drifting down the hallway. There was the occasional individual dressed in a suit coat or business attire, but I had the distinct impression they were just coming from work and they usually had some child holding their hand.

  “Kind of a young crowd for Mozart,” I said to Heidi.

  “Maybe he invited all his neighbors or his grand children and their friends. Hey, better turn your phone off so we don’t interrupt his concert,” she said and opened her purse.

  I pulled the phone out of my pocket and put it on airplane mode.

  The auditorium was full and we had to settle into seats about three rows from the stage. Kids were running up and down the aisle, parents were attempting to direct and the noise level was up there around the danger level. I would have killed for a pair of ear plugs. Heidi didn’t say anything, but I could sense the wheels turning in her head wondering “What the hell?”

  At precisely 6:40, ten minutes after the advertised start the lights in the auditorium dimmed and the noise level gradually subsided. A moment later a conservatively dressed woman stepped out from behind the curtain and stood in front of the microphone. A child cried from somewhere off to the right.

  “Thank you all for attending our spring concert. We will begin with our first graders and there will be a brief ten-minute intermission following grade four. Our first piece, The Flower Song, will be played by Cynthia Clarken.” Then she picked up the microphone and walked off stage as the curtain opened. A very little girl sat behind a rather large piano and began to play after getting some sort of cue from offstage.

  “Is it his kids or grand kids playing?” I whispered.

  Heidi shook her head then signaled me to be quiet. It took a good hour listening to about thirty-five kids before we got through the fourth grade and made it to the intermission. Finally the curtains closed and everyone applauded.

  “I’m gonna go find the bar, you want something?” I said.

  “Dev, this is a grade school concert, they aren’t going to have a bar?”

  “What?” I half shrieked.

  “Lower your voice, I think you’ll live.”

  “No bar?”

  Some woman carrying a three year old asleep on her shoulder gave me a disapproving stare as she walked past.

  “Are you sure we’re in the right place?”

  Heidi’s look suggested the conversation was over. After fifteen minutes the ten minute intermission was finished, the lights dimmed and gradually the noise level subsided. At least the music was beginning to improve from the starter tunes the younger kids had been playing although they were all better than anything I could do. We sat through another forty-five minutes of various kids grinding through their music and then the same woman walked back on stage with the microphone. Close to two hours of kids pounding on the piano seemed to do nothing to improve her attitude.

  “Ladies and gentleman, we’d like you to remain seated for one more performance tonight. Our benefactor and level five student, Mr. Thomas Allesi.”

  Heidi nudged me in the ribs and we started clapping along with everyone else as Tommy strolled onto the stage. He was dressed in a black tux with tails, a starched white collar with a black bow tie and he carried sheet music. As he placed the sheet music on the piano I caught the glint from the gold chain around his wrist.

  He settled onto the piano bench and focused on the sheet music for a moment. The auditorium was still with the exception of a little voice from behind us starting to say something and immediately getting cut off with a “Shhh-hhh”.

  Tommy held his hands up about shoulder height for a couple of seconds before he attacked the keyboard. He was playing some jazz thing that I’d forgotten the name of. It took a few notes, but I definitely recognized the piece, not because it was something played over and over in movies. I recognized the tune because I’d heard it before, at least three different times tonight, the fifth grade level had played it, without sheet music. And, truth be told those kids had done a better job of it.

  As he fought his way through t
he piece, I thought I heard someone off to the left sort of groan. There was a muffled chuckle from a few rows behind us and then Tommy swept his hands across the keyboard, swayed back and forth on the piano bench, glanced out into the crowd, suddenly focused on me for a brief moment and hit the wrong chord.

  It took just a second, but the error was glaring and the gasp from the audience didn’t help. To his credit Tommy regained his composure and moved on to finish. He stood for the polite applause, bowed, then focused on me with a look that suggested “What the hell are you doing here?” His cold stare was just long enough to register, and if it wasn’t directed at you I’m not sure anyone else would even notice, but it had been aimed at me and I noticed.

  “God, he doesn’t look too happy,” Heidi said as she clapped.

  “Probably still upset with that bad note. I bet he practiced that perfectly a hundred times and the hundred and first time he was out in front of a full house and that’s when he made the mistake.”

  “Now I could use a drink,” Heidi said and stood. We shuffled out of the place behind parents herding children and beaming grand parents. One guy was patting a boy on the back telling him he played better than the guy in the tux. His wife admonished him with a stern, “Frank.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “You want another round?” I asked hopefully.

  “No, I think we better get over to that reception at the Lady Slipper. I’m sure he saw us sitting in the front and I don’t want him thinking we skipped the reception because he blew his song.”

  We’d stopped at the Groveland Tap for a beer and a glass of wine, giving Tommy a few minutes to settle into his reception. At this point I wasn’t really looking forward to going to the thing and was afraid he might blame me for those wrong notes.

  “You know it’s funny,” Heidi said. “I just presumed he was an accomplished piano player, and here he is taking lessons with a bunch of fifth and sixth graders.”