by Mike Faricy
“Hi, Pinkie, great to see you,” I said.
Morton gave her his version of a greeting again beneath her short skirt.
“Mmm-mmm, very good boy,” she said rubbing Morton behind the ears before she shot a sexy smile in my direction and blew me a kiss.
A few minutes later we heard the announcer come across and introduce the judges again, one by one, to polite applause. I looked over at Pinkie and she gave me another sexy little smile and shrugged just as the announcer said, “And now, the heroes of the show, the team that made it all possible, Morton.” The area exploded in applause as we followed Pinkie out the door and then just stood there while the announcer began shouting, “Morton, Morton, Morton,” and the crowd picked up the chant.
Search lights swept back and forth across the standing room only crowd before they finally zoomed in on us. Between the whistles, the cheers and the applause the welcome was deafening. It grew even louder than the night before and the announcer finally said, “And Mr. Devlin Haskens.” My name couldn’t be heard above the din of the “Morton” chants, not that I really cared.
I grimaced, waved and then focused on sexy Pinkie’s tight little leather skirt as she led us to our elevated viewing box. It took a good ten minutes for the applause and cheers to die down. We were seated and then I grimaced to my feet a half dozen times and waved at the crowd which got them to begin to quiet down, but then Morton would bark and they started back up again. Finally the crowd settled down and the two semi-finalists were announced.
First came Hershey, with Melinda Kissler. The two of them walked out into the competition area where they were received with a rather chilly reception of tepid claps and more than a few hisses. The announcer’s voice seemed almost flat and one of the judges leaned over and said something to the judge next to him. She in turn shook her head and gave a shrug which seemed to translate to something like, “Serves her right. What do you expect?”
Both Hershey and Melinda appeared to be more than a little intimidated as they glanced around the arena. Melinda wore a toothy, pasted on smile and eyes that seemed to scan the crowd in terror. Hershey seemed to pick up on the fact that things weren’t right and began to act rather skittish.
After a painfully long moment of mostly quiet punctuated by the occasional hiss the announcer said, “And now, without further ado, Princess Anastasia and Ms Natasha Kominski.”
The place erupted. Between the applause, the whistles and the cheers I was sure I was going to suffer permanent hearing loss. Natasha and the princess walked what could only be described as a victory lap around the area, waving and smiling before the final round of competition had even begun.
I watched Melinda Kissler and Hershey off to the side and you could see whatever crumb of confidence they might have had coming into the arena had now completely vanished.
Once the applause for Princess Anastasia and Natasha finally died down they took their place off to the side and waited for Hershey to be put through his routine.
The judges gave a formal nod and Melinda and Hershey began. He started into the first obstacle, weaving in and out of a length of upright poles placed rather closely together. Halfway through he more or less quit and simply bolted to the far end. At least there weren’t any hisses or boos, but the two of them were finished. He did alright jumping over obstacles until the last one which he just avoided and ran around to Melinda’s feet with his tail between his legs. The final obstacle was a plastic tunnel Hershey had to crawl through, but instead of crawling he just sort of hid in there.
One of the judges finally stepped over and said something to Melinda. She gave a nod to the judge, a whistle to Hershey who finally came out of the plastic tunnel and they began to walk out of the competition area. Melinda looked like she was ready to cry and Hershey strained at his leash just wanting to be anywhere, but there. Other than a smattering of polite applause the crowd remained silent.
Hershey’s disappointing scores flashed across the screens in the arena. Whatever average may have been these had to be way below that. Unless she bit one of the judges the princess appeared to be a shoe-in.
Princess Anastasia got the formal nod from the judges and the arena immediately filled with applause which was then just as quickly hushed up as she began her routine. She sailed through one obstacle after another. Each time she finished a round of applause, stronger than the previous rippled through the arena. By the time she was crawling through the plastic tunnel the crowd had all it could do to not give a standing ovation. When she finally finished the place exploded and all eyes were glued to the screens as her scores flashed across. Each new score brought even louder cheers, applause and whistles with it. My ear drums were ready to burst by the time the announcer was declaring her this year’s winner and “Best of Show”.
Pinkie was suddenly next to us and escorted Morton and I back through the press door. Once inside she said, “Mr. Allesi would like you both to follow me downstairs for some photos.”
We did just that, posing for pictures for the better part of the next hour. Morton and Princess Anastasia were clearly the stars, Natasha and to a much lesser extent myself were the “also-rans.” Tommy Allesi was not to be seen, but I had the feeling he was always nearby. I could only hope he was busy collecting my share of the winnings.
The public relations session lasted a couple of hours. I was dragging by the time it was over. I still couldn’t hear properly and my ears were ringing after all the noise in the arena.
Simon caught my eye and then took me aside. “I’m supposed to tell you, Tommy’s got a little private get together happening at the Lady Slipper later tonight. He’d appreciate it if you were there,” he said and flashed a smile.
“Thanks Simon, but I gotta tell you, I’m really dragging, and all I want to do is….”
“I don’t think you heard me. Must have been all that clapping and cheering from earlier, got your ears screwed up or something.”
“No, I heard you, I….”
“Tommy would like you there, understand,” he said and began applying pressure to my hand right at the end of the temporary cast.
“Ouch, what time?” I said.
“I’ll pick you up at nine.”
“I think I’ll drive if it’s all the same.”
“Okay, just make sure you’re there or Tommy’s gonna send someone to get you and it won’t be pleasant. Oh, and you can leave the pooch at home.”
Lucky Morton.
Chapter Seventy
Morton was flaked out on the kitchen floor and seemed more than happy to stay home. I left the flat screen on just to keep him company and tossed some Bar-B-Que chips in his bowl.
The parking lot at the Lady Slipper was crowded, but not completely full and I found a place in the rear, next to the dumpster.
Tommy’s soiree was in a private banquet room down the hall from the room where we’d met the last time I was here. There were two rather large guys wearing suits that looked just a little too tight. They were leaning against a wall out in the hallway. Both of them had thick necks, heavy shoulders and close cropped hair.
One of them had the name Maureen tattooed on the side of his neck. The other guy had just one long, large eyebrow that looked more like a piece of shag carpeting. He stared and gave me the once over as I limped toward them. When I got close enough to them he said, “You’re the dog hero guy, right?” Then they both laughed like they were in on some sort of private joke.
“I was told Tommy wanted me here tonight.”
“That’s right,” the guy with the Maureen tattoo said then reached over, turned the knob and opened the door for me. Heads turned as I stepped inside the banquet room and suddenly light applause rippled through the room. I glanced around and smiled, but I didn’t recognize anyone. Soft background music came out of a speaker system in the ceiling and plush, royal-blue carpeting with little gold crowns covered the floor. The crowd seemed to sort of magically part and suddenly there was Tommy Allesi, standing in front of
a long table with candelabras and platters of hors d’oeuvres. He was holding a champagne flute toward Pinkie who was standing next to him and pouring from a large green bottle.
Pinkie wore a delightfully clingy sort of gown that went all the way to the floor and still left nothing to the imagination. It was cream colored, backless and almost frontless, slit all the way down to the jewel piercing her navel and apparently somehow glued to her breasts.
“Haskell, come on, help yourself to whatever you think you’d like,” Tommy said waving me forward.
Pinkie raised her eyebrows and smiled showing just a little of her snow white teeth before slowly running her tongue back and forth across her upper lip as she stared at me.
“Get the man a glass of champagne, Pinkie.”
“That’s okay,” I said.
“Come on, Haskell a ’98 Clos des Goisses, celebrate, after all you earned it.”
“Tell you the truth, champagne has always been wasted on me. You got a beer, I’d go for that.”
Tommy laughed then said, “Okay, okay, better go grab him a beer, Pinkie.”
I watched Pinkie make her way to a corner bar not realizing I was staring.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Tommy said.
I wasn’t playing that game. “Yeah, place must be at least a hundred years old, you’re lucky it’s in such good shape,” I said and glanced around the room.
Tommy smiled and nodded then studied me over the rim of his glass. We made small talk about the Blessington for a moment. Then I said, “So how did you come out?”
“On the wagers?”
I nodded as Pinkie returned and handed me a pint glass with a nicely chilled lager.
“We’ll get to that in a moment, but not here,” Tommy said.
He proceeded to introduce me to some of the city’s upper crust; developers, attorneys, judges, entrepreneurs, the sort of folks who could get away with things, keep a straight face and were smart enough not to brag. These were the real criminals in town, not the kind of folks I ran with.
By half-past-ten things were winding down. I chatted with a handful of folks. Polite sort of conversation, what did I do, who were my folks, where did I go to school, nothing worth the time it took to converse. Pinkie remained at my side, disappearing occasionally, but only to fetch me another beer.
Suddenly I looked around as Tommy closed the door to the banquet room. It was just the three of us, Tommy, Pinkie and me. “Shall we,” Tommy said and extended his hand to a door behind the bar area. “Peter,” he said to the bartender. “That will be all for tonight, the morning crew will clean up. Thank you.”
As Peter nodded and made his way out of the room Tommy gave a nod toward my half empty glass. Pinkie took my pint glass, stepped behind the bar and topped it up, perfectly.
“Thanks, I could get used to this.”
“Haskell,” Tommy said and held open a door. We stepped into a dimly lit library sort of room with couches on either side of a fireplace. Solid oak shelves filled with leather bound books lined three of the walls. The fourth wall, the one with the fireplace had an oil portrait with a gilded frame hanging above the mantel. It was a portrait of Tommy wearing a suit and tie and standing behind a chair looking very proper with a rolled up sheaf of papers in his hand.
“Is that a dart board?” I asked.
Tommy glanced back at me, but didn’t smile and Pinkie sort of studied the polished oak floor swallowing her smile. “In thru here,” Tommy said and opened a door next to the fireplace.
We entered an office, not huge but certainly not small. There was a large mahogany desk with a couple of black leather chairs in front of it. Off to one side was a wooden side board with four crystal decanters and some nice bottles of bourbon and whiskey. A bay area held a mahogany coffee table with a brown leather couch that sat in front of the window. Two wing backed chairs were at either end of the coffee table. Natasha Kominski sat in one of the wing backed chairs sipping a glass of wine. A bottle rested on the floor next to her chair.
Cecil Kissler, Crewcut, sat in the corner of the couch, his face was swollen and bruised and looked about as bad as mine except he didn’t have a nose splint. His left leg was wrapped from the knee up to his thigh and stretched out on the couch. A metal crutch lay on the floor in front of him.
He and Natasha were in the middle of some sort of joke, laughing hysterically as we entered the room. Natasha sort of wound down her laughter as she focused on me for a brief moment then took a hearty gulp from her wine glass.
Cecil nodded and raised his bourbon glass as if to toast me.
I turned and looked at Tommy Allesi.
“Please, Haskell take a seat,” Tommy said and indicated the open wing backed chair. “Maybe a bourbon for Mr. Haskell, I’ll have the same. Makers Mark,” Tommy said to Pinkie.
She filled a couple of crystal glasses with the equivalent of about two shots. Then strolled over and handed a glass to Tommy. She reached down and traded my beer glass for the bourbon, lingered a moment then ran a deft hand across my shoulder as she exited the room and closed the door behind her.
Chapter Seventy-One
“Oh honestly, Mr. Haskell don’t looked so surprised, you can’t possibly be that naive.” Natasha said.
“Just part of doing business,” Cecil said in a voice that sounded like his nose was plugged then he took a sip and smiled at me. “Ten stitches by the way,” he indicated the bandaged thigh where Morton had clamped onto him.
I couldn’t think of anything to say and looked over at Tommy Allesi. He’d set his bourbon down on the desk and picked up three white envelopes. He handed one to Natasha, one to Cecil and then the thinnest envelope to me. “I never like to take any more chances than absolutely necessary.”
“Are you telling me this whole thing was rigged? Fixed?” I looked from face to face.
“Heavens no, nothing like that. I told you, you and your dog were worth twenty points. But at the end of the day Princess Anastasia and Natasha still had to perform, and perform they did.”
“But the other dog, Hershey, your wife?” I looked over at Cecil.
“Soon to be ex-wife, she and Hershey gave what had to be the worst competition performance they’ve done in the past year. Those low scores had nothing to do with the, “Kidnapping.” He had placed his glass on the coffee table, raised his hands then wiggled his fingers up and down twice to indicate quotation marks when he said the word. He reached for his glass and took another sip. “Those low scores had everything to do with their poor performance.”
“Princess Anastasia?”
“Performed spectacularly,” Natasha said. “Did she feed off the energy generated by the audience, certainly. But it could have gone the other way, she certainly had no idea this had been staged, she never will. I wasn’t aware of it until after we’d won and Tommy was gracious enough to….” She held up her thick envelope then tossed it onto the coffee table. “Besides, with this victory, and Princess Anastasia having never been bred, we’ll be looking at six figures.”
“A hundred grand just for a litter?” I said.
“No, that’s per pup,” she said and smiled.
I suddenly thought back to the night in her home when Denis Malloy fell out of the vines onto the picnic table and I’d caught Morton mounting the princess. I didn’t want to think about the consequences of Morton being first in line.
“Come on Haskell, you’ve made more than four times your bid. That nose of yours will be healed up in a few days.”
“I almost got killed by you guys when you hauled me out of the trunk of that car. Those assholes weren’t kidding around.”
“They got a little carried away, I’ll admit that,” Cecil said. “But it worked out, they….”
“Worked out? Two of those guys ended up in the hospital.”
“Just overnight and I’m not going to be pressing any charges,” Natasha said.
That sounded more like a promise that she wouldn’t stir the pot. But then, why would she? S
he wasn’t there. She wasn’t dragged out of the car.
“A guy is dead, that young guy, Benny. I, I hit him with a tire iron when he attacked me.”
“I think you’re referring to Billy,” Tommy said. “That’s the name of the gentleman you killed, Haskell. It’s very unfortunate, I suppose it’s not really your fault. Possibly. I’m not sure what the court system would decide if you really wanted to pursue the matter, after all it would be your word against well, all the other individuals who were present.”
Cecil nodded. “Sometimes it’s best just to count your winnings and shut the hell up.”
“I don’t believe any contraband of any sort was discovered in anyone’s possession, was it?” Tommy asked. “Now, we do have the late involvement of a Mister Alexi Tarasenko and some acquaintances of his regarding a modest amount of contraband. I believe you spoke to him on at least two occasions, correct? And then your friend, Miss Heidi Bauer, didn’t she just receive some sort of free service from Mr. Tarasenko? Be a shame if something unfortunate happened to Miss Bauer.”
I looked at Natasha, but she just stared into the far corner of the room and didn’t reply.
“Tell you what, Haskell. I have a contact on the force, very adept, highly regarded in the department. I’d be glad to contact him for you, Detective Norris Manning, maybe you’ve heard of him? Or, well, I wonder if it wouldn’t be wise to just take that rather handsome payment for a short weekends work and consider yourself a winner, as well,” Tommy said.
“And I’d like to add to that, Devlin.” Natasha said then reached into her envelope, pulled out a handful of bills without counting them and tossed the pile on top of my envelope.
I looked at her and suddenly my first thought was “Morton still screwed Princess Anastasia.”
“What are you thinking, Haskell?” Tommy asked.
“I don’t know what to think, I, I just don’t know what to think.”
“Maybe go home and think about your options, if you’d like me to call Detective Manning for you in the morning, I’d be happy to do so. Let me warn you, once he’s fixed on a case, he isn’t the type to let go.”
