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

by Mike Faricy

  “His actions are of no concern to me.”

  “I would suggest you start making them a concern,” I said then stared out the window for a mile or two until I realized she was heading toward her home. “I think you better pack up at home and we’ll go to my place, you’re spending the night there, you and the princess. It’s the only place you’ll be even halfway safe.”

  Thankfully she just gave me a look, but didn’t argue. She drove past the Head Case. The lights were on inside and the place was occupied by the same guy I saw in there the other day reading the paper. Tonight he was in a chair talking on the phone. I wondered if he was maybe an owner.

  She quickly packed a couple of bags at her house then we hurried over to my place. I pulled into the driveway and parked in front of the garage. I wrapped the AR-15 in the camouflage blanket and carried it into the house. Morton followed, prancing about an inch behind Princess Anastasia and Natasha.

  “Charming,” Natasha said, meaning anything but, as she stepped inside the front door. I had a couple of T-shirts hanging over the stair banister, some of Morton’s toys were scattered around the front entry. There were a few newspapers sort of stacked on the coffee table in front of the couch, a couple of empty beer bottles rested on top of some skin mags.

  “I really wasn’t expecting company,” I said.

  Natasha had just run a finger across an end table. You could see the path her finger had made in the dust and she sort of frowned as she rubbed her finger tip and thumb together.

  I laid the AR-15 on the couch and headed toward the kitchen. “Come on back here,” I said. Once in the kitchen I got a bowl out of the cupboard for the princess, filled the bowl and Morton’s dish with dog food then filled the water dish.

  Morton glanced at the dog food in his bowl then gave me a look that suggested, “You gotta be kidding.”

  Natasha looked at the dog food bag and said, “Frankly, I’m more than a little surprised, sensible, healthy and here I had you figured as the sort that would feed him table scraps and anything deep fat fried.”

  “I’d never do that,” I said then left the bag of Bar-B-Que potato chips in the cupboard, grabbed a couple of apples out of the refrigerator and sliced them into a bowl. “Would you care for a glass of wine?”

  “What do you have?” she said reaching for an apple slice.

  “Chilled.”

  That seemed to bring an uncustomary smile to her face. “Why not?”

  We’d eaten two more apples, and were almost finished with the second bottle of wine. I was thinking of ordering out for a pizza.

  “Did I mention I was formally introduced to Tommy Allesi last night?”

  “Formally introduced?”

  “Yeah, actually it was after a piano concert, a big recital for kids taking lessons. He hosted a reception at the Lady Slipper. I guess he funds the concert they had. Anyway, I was introduced to him, formally this time.”

  “And how was he?”

  “I have to say not too thrilled to see me. In fact, he suggested to the woman I was with that she set her sights higher.”

  “That sounds like Tommy. He’s quite intelligent, but once he arrives at a conclusion it’s rather difficult to change his mind. His first impression obviously wasn’t the best.”

  “That sort of goes both ways.”

  “Perhaps, but don’t you see, the difference is he’s Tommy Allesi and you’re, well you’re just you.”

  “So, what was the deal with you and those guys this afternoon?”

  She drained her glass and said, “I don’t suppose you have any more, do you?”

  “I just might,” I said stepping over to the refrigerator. “We were talking about this afternoon, your visitors.”

  “Where to begin? Over the past few years I’ve been active on a number of fronts, lobbying for the legalization of cannabis for strictly medicinal purposes. I’ve played a role, somewhat minor, in Washington, California and Colorado. I was one of the Colorado seven, perhaps you heard of us?”

  I shook my head.

  She sort of gave a look as if to say “it figures.” “Recently I’ve begun to refocus my efforts here, in Minnesota.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to be able to legalize dope here.”

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Once the various state legislatures see the tax revenue generated in places like Colorado and Washington, with the possible exception of Mississippi, cannabis will be legal everywhere within the decade.”

  “That still doesn’t explain those guys this afternoon.”

  “Experience has taught that one of the first things we have to do is minimize the illegal distribution efforts of certain parties.”

  “What?”

  “Your street vendors, pushers as you might call them.”

  “Or maybe just call them what they are, plain old gangsters and thugs. And you plan to do this minimizing exactly how? By reasoning with them?”

  “By confiscating their product. If they’ve nothing to sell, no one can purchase. It’s a rather simple business plan.”

  “Yeah, except for the fact you’re talking a lot of money and some not so nice individuals might take exception to the fact that you’re ‘confiscating’ their property.”

  “Illegal property, at least under the tenants of current law.”

  “You stole dope from some pretty bad guys, Natasha. That’s what was stored in your camper. Right? Those guys want it back, and they aren’t going to stop until they get it.”

  “I don’t think they realize just how determined I can be.”

  I just shook my head. “Natasha, they’ll kill Princess Anastasia, just for fun they’ll make you watch and then kill you. It’s the way they operate. It may not seem logical to you, but that’s what they do.”

  “Well, I’m not about to tell them where I hid it and they’ll never find it.”

  I figured it was probably stacked up out on her back deck with the smashed picnic table and all the other crap. “God, Natasha, I’m guessing your house, right?”

  “Wrong, the coal bin in the garage, they’ll never find it.”

  “So, how is Tommy Allesi involved? Is he selling dope?”

  “Tommy, oh, heavens no, at least not to my knowledge. No, he simply spouted the same ridiculous nonsense you’re saying now, and he wanted to take control of Princess Anastasia until after the Blessington show. I believe I mentioned earlier that he owned a small percentage, one-thirty-second. Of course he wagered heavily on the results of the show. My understanding is a lot of money changes hands, an awful lot.”

  “So, if Tommy just wants to protect the princess why not let him, why come to me?”

  “Quite simply, I’m not sure he’d let her go once the show was over.”

  “But if the guys we met this afternoon are after the dope you stole….”

  “Confiscated.”

  “….And Denis Malloy is with them, doesn’t Denis work for Tommy?”

  “Denis is a rather confused individual. He was instrumental in assisting me in the original confiscation, but he immediately wanted to take possession. I suspect he planned to sell the product himself, thereby negating my intentions, and reaping a considerable profit which would afford him the opportunity to payback the rather sizeable debt he’s rumored to owe Mr. Allesi.”

  “Debt?”

  “Denis has always been rather adept at attempting to play both sides of the street and then getting run down in the middle. More wine?” she said filling her glass and extending the bottle toward me.

  “I’m confused,” I said.

  “And about to be over served,” she smiled and refilled my glass almost to the rim.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  I woke the following morning with a throbbing head and a very dry throat. My body seemed to ache all over and I felt like I’d been doing sit ups and pushups for hours. I sensed I was resting on the very edge of my bed with a warm body up against me and I thought, “Damn it, Morton,” as I slowly
opened my eyes.

  Unfortunately, I immediately focused on Morton, lying on the floor, snoring. What was left of a chewed up thong was on the floor next to him. Heidi? I rolled over still half asleep. A wave of shock, panic, or maybe just both washed over me as I stared into Natasha’s face. She snuggled in, draped an arm around my waist, fluttered her eyes open and pulled me toward her. I prayed I was just having a bad dream.

  “Hey there, Tiger, you just don’t know when to quit, do you?” she cooed and then threw a leg over my hip.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” I whined.

  “Heh, heh, heh,” she snickered and began to run a hand down my stomach. “That’s what you said the last few times.” Then she pushed me back on the pillow and climbed aboard. Princess Anastasia cast a wayward glance from the far side of the bed and then went back to sleep.

  I had the coffee going and an embarrassed look on my face when Natasha came drifting into the kitchen. The princess and Morton were eyeing one another over their empty food bowls. I was finding it difficult to face Natasha so I busied myself around the kitchen sink. There were four empty wine bottles scattered across the kitchen counter and another one, more empty than not, that I’d just returned to the refrigerator. I placed the empties in recycling and poured her a cup of coffee.

  “Milk, sugar?”

  “No, thank you,” she said and took a sip. “Umm, we’re due to report to the Blessington at eleven this morning. I wonder if it wouldn’t make sense to return to the scene of yesterday’s crime and retrieve the camper. Then, if you would be so kind as to follow me home and give us a ride down to the Blessington we’ll check in.”

  “What time do you finish up?”

  “Finish? Oh, no, it’s not like that, we’ll be on site for the next four days.”

  “On site?”

  “Exactly, either competing in some facet or getting ready to compete,” she said, then squinted, made a face at me and growled. “Grrrr-rrr-rrr, God I needed last night. Too bad you can’t stay with us, you know just to relieve my stress levels, but unfortunately, rules are rules.”

  “Come on, we better get moving and check out that park to see if there’s anything left of your camper.”

  Amazingly, the camper was where she left it in the lot, and perhaps not so amazingly, the three other cars were gone. The camper appeared to be untouched. I opened the hood before Natasha started the engine, just to be sure there wasn’t some sort of surprise wired up, mercifully there wasn’t. After a brief general inspection I deemed the vehicle safe to start and she fired it up, then I followed Natasha and the princess back to her place. She pulled the camper in back and parked next to the garage.

  In short order her bags were in my trunk. Morton paced back and forth in the back seat while Natasha held the princess on her lap as we drove downtown.

  “The majority of today will consist of registration and grooming,” Natasha said, petting the princess. “As far as I’m concerned you’ve performed all the service I’ll need from you, at least for the time being.” Then she turned toward me, gave a wry smile and a throaty growl.

  I gripped the wheel and kept my eyes focused on the road. As we pulled in front of the Xcel Center I said, “I’ll grab your suitcase. Maybe I should go in with you? I don’t want you running into that gang from yesterday.”

  “Didn’t get enough, did you? Hmmm-mmm-mmm. Thank you, but no, this is probably the safest place to be. Security is extremely tight and will remain so until the end of the show, at which point I intend to take Princess Anastasia, along with our Best of Show trophy out to a breeders for the first of a number of successful litters. The fact that she’s never been bred raises the value of her line. She’s a virgin and has no idea of the surprises that await, do you darling?” she said and then scratched the princess behind her ears.

  I noticed Morton had suddenly slunked down in the backseat and seemed to be doing his best to become invisible.

  I pulled up to the curb in front of the Xcel. Before I was out of the car some bellboy in a red cap pushed a four wheeled cart alongside the car. “I’ll take your luggage and equipment. Only registered entrants beyond this point,” he said.

  Three uniformed police officers stood next to the entrance doors and added enough emphasis for my taste.

  “Natasha,” I said as she and the princess climbed out of the front seat. “I wish you all success.”

  They both ignored me and regally strode toward the door to the Xcel Center with the bellboy in tow. The police officer at the door checked their credentials and waved them inside. Once the door closed behind them he looked at me and said, “Would you mind moving your vehicle, sir. We have a lot of people coming through. Thank you.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I parked in the driveway and let Morton out of the back seat. Despite my being over served and taken advantage of last night I felt like a huge burden had been lifted from my shoulders. Win, lose or draw Natasha and Princess Anastasia were safe and sound, under lock and key down at the Blessington Kennel Club and I had my life back. As we wandered toward the front door my phone rang.

  “Hey, let me talk to Morton,” Maddie said avoiding the perfect opportunity to tell me when she was returning.

  “Hang on,” I said then panted into the phone.

  “Hi Morton, how’s my boy? It’s Mommy, Morton.” She went on for another minute, or two. I kept thinking as soon as this nonsense was finished there was some cold pizza in the fridge that would make a pretty good lunch and then we could head down to the office.

  “We’re just about to go out on our walk,” I said interrupting the current round of squeals Maddie was making. “When are you planning to come back to town?”

  “I’m going to book a flight in the near future, I’ll email the details once I do,” she said then made some sort of lame excuse and quickly hung up.

  Buster, I thought. She’s been swept off her feet.

  “Come on, Morton old buddy, you like double cheese and sausage pizza?” I asked as I opened the front door.

  My first thought was, “Hey, those are mine,” when I saw the four guys drinking beer and paging through the skin magazines in my living room. Then I saw the open pizza box with just one piece remaining. I recognized my uninvited guests from yesterday’s bunch of thugs although Denis Malloy didn’t seem to be anywhere around.

  “You’re out of beer,” the blonde guy with a crewcut said and then gave the nod to a figure who stepped out from behind the door and cold cocked me on the side of the head. I dropped my phone as I went down.

  I woke up on the floor to Morton licking my face. The left side of my head throbbed and Morton’s breath smelled of cheese and sausage pizza.

  The guy who hit me was casually leaning against the wall. Crewcut was sitting backwards on one of my dining room chairs, resting his arms on the back of the chair. As he leaned down to look at me I noticed he was rather large, a fact accentuated by the body builder arms about the size of my thighs with black tribal tattoos wrapped around massive biceps.

  “Like I said, you’re out of beer.”

  “Not a problem, I’ll just go get some more, you guys can wait here,” I said slowly sitting up.

  “You aren’t going anywhere, dumbass. I suppose you think you’re pretty cute, telling that fat fuck Denis to slit our tires.”

  “Actually, that was his idea, I told him not to, but he.…”

  “Just shut up and listen. Your hippie girlfriend took it upon herself to harvest a growing operation of ours. We want it back, and then we want her.”

  “I got no idea what you’re talking….”

  “Ramon,” he said and gave a nod to the guy who hit me a moment before.

  Ramon seemed to effortlessly pick me up off the floor and bounce me off the wall like a basketball. I felt the sheetrock crack as I slammed into the wall. The painting of a naked lady sitting in a giant martini glass fell off the wall and the frame broke when it hit the floor. I slid down the wall and landed on the f
loor next to the painting. Pizza breath Morton bounded over and started to lick me again.

  “Maybe you’re having trouble understanding me. We want that shit back, now, right now.”

  “This is bullshit,” one of the guys sitting on my couch said. He had a ponytail and he tossed the skin mag he’d been looking at into a corner, stood up and headed toward me. He took three steps, then a quick hop and kicked me on the side of the head. I vaguely remember my head bouncing off the wall before I blacked out.

  “….can’t very well tell us anything if he’s lying there unconscious, now, can he?” a voice seemed to echo from somewhere inside my head.

  “This is just so much bullshit. I say we kill this bastard now then go and grab that bitch and her damn dog.”

  “Great idea, she’s down at that stupid dog show hiding behind half the cops in town. Your brilliant idea is to kick the shit out of the only idiot who might be able to help us. Maybe just sit down and let’s find out what this piece of crap knows. If he can’t help then you can do whatever you want to him.”

  I kept my eyes closed and my face on the floor until someone sat me up and leaned me back against the wall. My head nestled into the indentation in the wall from when I was kicked.

  “Haskell, Haskell wake up here, you piece of shit, wake up,” Crewcut said then slapped my face back and forth a few times. He didn’t slap very hard, but my head felt like it would explode and I attempted to brush his hand away.

  “Sorry about that, maybe you can sense the frustration we’re all feeling here. Now, I’m thinking you can help us out, as well as yourself, by taking us to our dope that hippie girlfriend of yours stole. You do that and we just might forget we ever met, how’s that sound?”

  “Sounds like bullshit, I say we go get the bitch,” the guy with the ponytail said. He was back on the couch, looking at a new skin mag. The other three guys had yet to look up from their magazines. I figured they must not have a love life.