by Mike Faricy
“That prick? Is he jacking around someone you know?”
“Sort of, but not legally. At least I don’t think so.”
Louie grabbed his coffee mug and headed toward the pot as he spoke. “Austin Hackett. He’s got a private practice, works a scam on small to medium business folks. He has at least a couple of guys that I know of. I think he keeps them on retainer. One’s sight impaired, the other’s missing a leg. They fake an injury at some small business, you know maybe trip on a step, fall in the bathroom or out on the side walk, stuff like that. Then Hackett sues on behalf of his ‘clients’ and scams the business into settling out of court.”
“At what point does the system wise up? Sounds like it could be grounds for disbarment.”
“It probably could, if it ever goes to court. What Hackett does is he comes up with a laundry list of potential problems, entries, exits, elevators, handicap access to the restroom, all sorts of shit. By the time he’s finished the bill to fix all that usually starts around six figures and climbs. A lot of little places just can’t afford that. So, being the good guy, Austin Hackett offers to settle for, oh five, six maybe ten grand, depending, and the cases never go to court.”
“And that’s legal?”
“Technically, yeah. I think the state has looked into him a couple of times. Not sure about the bar association, but like I said, it’s legal.”
“Sounds like a scam.”
“Oh, absolutely. Go on the low side, say he settles for just fifty percent. Fifty percent of five grand is twenty-five hundred. Pay your handicapped guy two hundred and basically Hackett is netting something like two grand or more a day, every day. Nice work if you can get it.”
“And he’s getting away with this?”
“He seems to be, at least thus far. Google him, he’s within the letter of the law. He suing someone you know?”
“Not suing. It’s Heidi, she’s seeing him. From the sound of things, she’s fallen head over heels for the bastard. Thinks he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread. Navy Seal, took care of his dying parents…”
“Who told you that shit?”
“Heidi. I just got off the phone with her. We’re going to have a farewell dinner.”
“She’s not marrying Hackett, is she?”
“Only because he hasn’t asked. According to her, they’ve been seeing one another for three weeks now.”
“Get her away from him, Dev. He’ll find a way to take her for every cent she’s got, then just cast her aside. Oh, and Navy Seal? I’m pretty sure he couldn’t swim from here to the door and back. Navy Seal? Jesus,” he said and just shook his head.
Chapter Six
I put the binoculars back in my desk drawer, left the girls in the apartment to their own devices and started looking into Austin Hackett online. There were almost three pages’ worth of links, all pretty much the same, just like Louie had described. The newspaper seemed to sort of tout him as a crusader. He’d been sued twice and lost both cases. I made note of the people who filed the complaints. I’d want to talk with them and hopefully their attorneys.
Toward the bottom of page three, two links mentioned a lawsuit filed on behalf of a wounded veteran, one Marcel Barker. If it was the Marcel Barker I knew, he was indeed a wounded veteran, but his ‘wound’ had occurred at the hands of a disgruntled husband returning home two days early to Portsmouth Naval Shipyard from some sort of test cruise back in the early seventies. Marcel, I knew him as “Woofy”, was a guard at the Portsmouth Naval Prison up until the time he was shot in the ass by that returning husband. There were political connections somewhere along the way and Woofy was discharged and placed on disability. To my knowledge the husband never served any time. In fact, I don’t think the case ever went to court.
I hadn’t seen Woofy in a number of years, but I had a pretty good idea of the half dozen different places I might be able to find him.
“I gotta check out some stuff. Lock up if you leave,” I said to Louie.
“I’m in court at eleven, pleading a no contest. You want me to ask around about your pal Hackett?”
“You mind?”
“No, I’ve never liked the guy. Along with most other practicing attorneys I would love to see him get nailed with something, anything.”
“Yeah, see what you can find out. I’d appreciate that,” I said, then headed out the door to find Woofy.
I asked about him at Wangs, the Yuk Club, the Poodle, and Ugly’s. They’d all seen him recently, but didn’t know where he was at the moment. I was running out of options when I found him at the fifth place I checked, the Manhole.
The Manhole isn’t that far removed from its name. Not a lot of people go there, for a variety of reasons. But the few who do enter are well looked after because they’re there to do business, and the business is drinking.
It’s a dark, dismal little place on a crusty side street in a back corner just off the downtown railway yard. The front door had a handle that I think was supposed to be brass, at least at one time, but it was so crusted with grime you couldn’t really tell. The door itself had a window, four inches wide and maybe five feet long running from the top to the bottom, and had been boarded over with a sheet of weathered plywood for as long as I could remember. The story I heard was there had been a shooting back in the late 80’s. Fortunately the shooter was too drunk to hit anything other than the window.
It was the middle of the afternoon on a pleasant, sunny day when I entered the place. None of the dozen people in there bothered to look up as I stepped inside and let my eyes adjust to the inky darkness. As my vision began to return, I could make out a number of folks sitting alone at the bar. It seemed they’d all made a point of positioning themselves at least two stools apart so they could focus on the task at hand, drinking, and not be interrupted. Two women occupied a back booth and seemed to be the only people engaged in any sort of social interaction.
“What’ll I get you?” the bartender said then sort of smeared whatever had spilled on the bar with a rag that looked like it had been used to clean the floor in the men’s room.
“I’m looking for someone and I wondered if…”
“They ain’t here,” he said then sort of tossed the bar rag back on the floor and walked down to the far end of the bar.
“Kenny’s a real asshole, ain’t he?” the guy sitting a couple of stools away said. He sort of shrugged his shoulders like he was laughing to himself and didn’t bother to look at me.
“Yeah, and that’s probably his good side. Can I buy you another?”
“Never turned one down,” he said then raised his glass to catch the bartender’s attention. “Who you looking for?”
“Woofy Barker, you know him?”
“Yeah, everybody knows Woofy. What’s he done this time?”
“Surprisingly, nothing. I just wanted to ask him about a guy.”
“You a cop?”
“Me? No, I’m trying to find a guy Woofy knew a while back. Thought he might be able to help is all.”
The guy nodded, but didn’t say anything else. His drink arrived a moment later, “Three seventy-five,” Kenny said looking at me and trying to sound friendly. I wondered how he knew I was paying then figured the guy I was chatting with probably came in every afternoon and nursed the same drink for three or four hours.
I handed a five-dollar bill over.
“You want change?” He sounded hopeful.
“Yes.”
He tossed the change on the bar a moment later, the quarter rolled off the bar, but I managed to catch it before it hit the floor. He glanced longingly at the dollar bill floating in the beer puddle on the bar then frowned and wandered back down to the far end. Once he left, my guy drained his glass then pulled the fresh drink in a little closer.
“So you’re looking for Woofy. You sure he’s not in any trouble?”
“Well, from what I know of Woofy, yes, he probably is in trouble, but not with me. I just wanted to ask him some questions is all.”<
br />
“And you’re not a cop?”
“Nope, actually just trying to find something out about another guy.”
He seemed to think about that for a sip or two, then said, “You want Woofy, he’s catching a little nap back in that corner booth.”
I looked across the dark room toward the corner booth. Sure enough a pair of feet were just barely hanging out of the booth, three or four empty glasses littered the table.
“You said the bartender’s name was Kenny.”
“Yeah, and I also said he was an asshole.”
“No disagreement from me.” I signaled Kenny with half a wave. He took his time, finished the conversation he was involved in, then slowly made his way back down to me. He glanced at the dollar bill still floating in the puddle, more wet then dry.
“Yeah.”
“Just a cup of coffee, keep the change,” I said then laid another five on the bar.
Chapter Seven
Kenny poured steaming coffee into a white ceramic mug. The coffee was so hot you’d swear it was going to burn the glaze off the mug. I could smell the stuff from across the bar, burnt coffee. It had probably been on the burner for the past forty-eight hours. Guaranteed to give you heart burn. But then, who drank coffee in this place?
I carried the mug back toward the feet hanging out of the corner booth. I picked up my pace as I headed across the room because the mug seemed to be getting hotter and it was beginning to burn my hand. I set the mug down on the table, then kicked the pair of feet a few times until I started to get a reaction.
“Humph, argh, cough, groan, cough, cough.”
The two women sitting a couple of booths away were suddenly quiet for a few seconds before they started up again. “I sure hope that isn’t contagious,” one of them said.
“Hey, Woofy old pal, good to see you. Come on, wake up. Look, I bought you a drink.” That seemed to get things moving and the figure slouched in the booth suddenly began to move and pull himself upright. He squinted across the table at the empty glasses trying to get his bearings.
“What the hell, is that coffee?” he said, then peered up at me with an uncomprehending look.
“Just to get started. Once you’re awake we’ll see what you need.”
That provided some added incentive and he reached out with a shaky hand and slowly pulled the mug toward him. He sniffed and blew on the mug a half dozen times then slurped a little and made a face. “Oh God, that shit’s really bad.”
I was pretty sure I couldn’t argue the point. I waited while he sipped some more then said, “So Woofy, you happen to know a guy named Austin Hackett.”
“That asshole?” he said then blew on the mug a few more times before he slurped again. “Argh, this is really bad.”
“What can you tell me about Hackett?”
“You some kind a cop?”
“Nope, I’m the guy who’s buying you a drink once you finish that coffee. I just want to find out anything you can tell me about Austin Hackett.”
“Well, he made me a sweetheart deal, then when it come time to pay up, he didn’t. Simple as that.”
“What was the deal?”
“Nothing fancy. I went into this doctor’s office. I think he was one of them chiropractors. Anyway, I go in there, see about making an appointment. Course I didn’t, then on the way out,” he glanced toward the bar, I guess checking to see if anyone was listening then lowered his voice. “On the way out I fake a fall, see? He’s waiting down on the corner, Hackett is, and he calls 911 for the paramedics. Couple of days later, he threatens to sue this doctor. He’s got all sorts of these trumped up charges that’ll run ‘em over a hundred grand. Then, he offered to settle for I think it was eight grand.” He took another slurp then cringed as the coffee burned its way down to his stomach. “God, but this is bad.”
“And what did you get out of it?”
“Well, first of all, I’m a disabled veteran,” he said and sat up just a little straighter in the booth.
“Yeah, well look, about that, Woofy. I think you were shot in the ass by a disgruntled husband if I recall, but they gave you the disability anyway.”
“Oh, so you know about that, do ya?”
I nodded. “I don’t really care about any of that. Did this Hackett make it worth your while?”
“Hell no,” he half shouted. “Bastard was supposed to split the money with me. Ended up giving me a couple hundred bucks cash, and told me if I complained he’d have someone put me in the hospital for real.”
“What did you do?”
Woofy looked at me like I was crazy and said, “Well, I took the money, of course. I didn’t like what he done, but then again it was cash.”
“Anyone from that doctor’s office ever contact you?”
“There was some sort of meeting that was gonna be set up, me being dispossessed.”
“You mean deposed?”
“Yeah, that’s it. But Hackett told me not to worry, things would never get that far. Next thing I know, he’s telling me it’s all over and all he could give me was two hundred.”
“You do anything else for the guy?”
“No, never heard from him again, which is just fine by me. I been screwed around enough in life. I don’t need to go looking for someone to do it.”
“What are you drinking?”
“You buying?”
I nodded, then said, “Tell you what, here’s twenty bucks, get whatever you want. I appreciate the help.”
“Anytime, man, anytime,” he said then snatched up the twenty I’d just tossed on the table and slid out of the booth.
Chapter Eight
I was thinking about what Louie had said, reminding me how Morton destroyed the kitchen the last time I left him alone in there. So, after I left the Manhole, I drove to my place. Morton hadn’t trashed the kitchen, but only because he’d somehow gotten out of the kitchen and trashed the entire house. He’d carried a feather pillow down from my bedroom upstairs, then apparently ran through the house with the thing leaving a trail of feathers all over the first floor.
He’d gotten hold of the coffee cake I’d planned on serving AJ and devoured that, breaking the plate it was sitting on and knocking over a kitchen stool in the process. He chewed two of the legs on the kitchen stool. He found his way into my pantry cabinet and dragged one of the dog food bags through the first floor scattering dog food in among all the pillow feathers.
It must have taken quite an effort because when I got home he was asleep on the living room couch with feathers hanging from his nose. I just closed my eyes and hoped it would all go away. It didn’t.
* * *
Morton barked and ran over to the door when Louie came back in the office.
“I thought you said he was at home, in the kitchen or something,” Louie said, then bent down and gave Morton a good rub behind the ears.
“He was. I just got to thinking maybe he shouldn’t be there the entire day by himself, so I thought I’d bring him down here for a bit. You okay with that?”
“Not a problem. What the hell is this? A feather?” Louie said then pulled a small white feather from Morton’s tail.
“Wow, I wonder where he got that?”
“Yeah,” Louie said sounding suspicious, but he didn’t go any further.
Fortunately, my phone rang. “Haskell Investigations.”
“Hi, Dev, it’s AJ, I’m returning your call.”
“Calls,” I said and waited.
“Well?”
“Look, I’m sorry if I upset you, I…”
“Upset me? Oh no, Dev you didn’t upset me. You couldn’t be bothered. As a matter of fact, you completely ignored me.”
I put on my knee pads and began to grovel. “Look, you’re right and I was wrong, very wrong. I was just so caught off guard when I found Morton on the front porch, I didn’t know how to handle it. I guess I didn’t realize how important he was to me. Did I mention he saved my life?”
“Actually, you did, I think
a couple of times.”
“Oh, well look, I’m sorry if I upset you, but I just got sort of blindsided. I had a wonderful time with you, and well, I was hoping I could maybe see you again.”
“Hmm-mmm.”
“Oh yeah, and I’m sorry, too. Really I am.” I saw the look in Louie’s eye, but I didn’t care.
“Thanks, that was sweet, sort of. It’s not that I don’t like dogs. I do, I told you about Lady Godiva.”
“Who?”
“Dev, Lady Godiva, my chocolate lab. She’ll be three this fall. I just love her.”
“Yeah, you did tell me. I’ve just been so focused on you, I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”
Louie rolled his eyes.
“Hmm-mmm, okay, forgiven as long as it doesn’t happen again.”
“Yeah, you’re right. So, I was wondering if maybe you’d consider getting together sometime, if that would be okay. I promise not to get distracted, believe me.”
“I’d like that. I tell you what, you know that coffee shop just down the street from you?”
“You mean Nina’s?”
“Yeah, why don’t you and Morton meet Lady Godiva and me for a cup of coffee tonight, say half-past-seven? They can get to know one another, and well, we can get reacquainted, too.”
“Tonight, half-past-seven. I’d like that.”
“So would I.”
“Okay, we’ll see you there.”
“Good, and Dev, thanks for the phone messages and for the apology. It means a lot to me.”
“Thanks for returning my calls, AJ.”
“Bye, bye, bye,” she said and hung up.
It felt like a weight I didn’t even know was there had suddenly been lifted.
“Sounded like your groveling did the trick,” Louie said without looking up from his laptop.
“I make no bones about it, I can grovel with the best of them. The only thing I care about is that it seemed to work. Come on, Morton. Let’s head home and get that mess cleaned up. We just might be having sleep over company tonight.”
