by Mike Faricy
“May I help you,” one of the guys behind the counter asked.
“I’m looking for the offices of Austin Hackett.”
One of the guards with his back to me turned and half whispered, “Getting sued?”
“Fortunately not. I just wanted to see about some representation.” That caused all three to look up and study me for a long moment.
“Representation,” the guy said as he picked up the phone sounding like he didn’t quite believe me. “Yes, I have a gentleman down here wishing to see about representation. Let me check. Do you have an appointment?”
“No, I don’t. I was hoping I might just get some general information.”
“He does not have an appointment. He’s just looking for some general information. Okay, we’ll send him up. Sixteenth floor, number sixteen-ten,” the guy said, then gave a nod in the direction of the elevators.
I boarded the elevator with a middle aged woman who stepped off on the ninth floor, then I rode alone up to the sixteenth floor. The hallway was carpeted in an institutional grey carpet, with a dark rubber baseboard and lighter grey walls. The trim around the doors was metal and painted the same color as the walls. The door to 1610 held a fogged glass panel with “Austin Hackett Attorney at Law” painted in black letters. I opened the door and entered a small reception area with comfortable looking chairs and a polished wood counter maybe fifteen feet away. An attractive woman sat behind the counter smiling.
“May I help you?”
“Hi, I was just stopping by. I wanted to see about getting some general information, in case I need representation.”
She held her pasted on smile like this was an everyday occurrence then reached down to a cardboard box along the side of the counter and pulled out two brochures, exactly the same. She was still smiling when she sat up. “Hopefully, this will answer your questions and maybe prompt some others.”
I glanced over her shoulder into what appeared to be a conference room. The drapes had been pulled, though not completely, and I could see spiked haired Austin Hackett sitting with his back toward me. Opposite him sat a middle-aged couple holding hands. The woman looked about ready to break into tears, the guy looked ready to kill. Someone to the left of them was moving his hands back and forth, I guessed as he spoke, although I couldn’t see much beyond his wrists. Hackett sat there shaking his head ‘no’ in response to whatever was being said.
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
“No, thank you. You’ve been quite helpful,” I said, then left the office and took the elevator down to the ground floor.
“Everything go okay?” the security guy who joked about being sued asked.
I held up the two brochures and headed out the revolving door.
I waited outside for almost forty-five minutes before the couple I’d seen in Hackett’s office walked out of the building. They shook hands with a guy in a blue suit, and had a word or two before he headed down the street in the opposite direction. Then they turned and walked toward me.
“Excuse me,” I said as they approached.
“Believe me, we don’t have any money,” the guy said.
“Certainly not now,” the woman added as he sort of steered her around me.
“Could I just take a moment of your time…”
“Hey, look pal…”
“It’s about Austin Hackett.”
“Hackett?” he said and they both stopped.
“I saw you up in his office. It didn’t look like things were exactly going your way. I’m a private investigator, my name is Devlin Haskell and I’m investigating Austin Hackett.”
“You oughta just shoot the bastard.”
“Tom, don’t. Investigating him for what?” the woman asked.
“That’s kind of complicated, I’d gladly buy you lunch or coffee or a drink if you’d like to talk. You can leave at any time. I’m just trying to get as much information on him as I can.”
“What the hell were you doing up in his office if you’re trying to get information?” the guy asked.
“Getting these,” I said and held up the brochures Hackett’s receptionist had given me.
“Tom?”
“Okay, yeah sure. I could use a drink, a strong drink, but the Starbucks around the corner might be a better idea. What’d you say your name was?”
“Haskell, Devlin Haskell, I go by Dev.”
“Tom Connelly, Dev, this is my wife Jean,” he said extending his hand.
Over coffee the Connelly’s told me they owned a specialty food shop. “The store is just a front so to speak. Our real business used to be direct mail, you know catalogs. But now, all that’s pretty much been transferred to online. We’re up twenty-eight percent this year over last and just hired a fourth person to take over our shipping and warehouse. Then this shit happened.”
“So if it’s online, what’s Hackett’s deal?”
“It’s the online that we figure got his interest. Not the business as such, but our success. We were written up in the paper, what two months ago, Jeanie?”
“Closer to four now. We’re one of the top twenty small companies in the state. Once that article appeared it wasn’t long before Mr. Hackett’s firm hit us with a lawsuit. Failure to comply…”
“With the ADA,” I said.
“Yeah, even though we’ve been grandfathered in. How’d you know? Our attorney told us by the time we battle this out in court it’s liable to run us at least ten grand. The suit he filed hits us for over a hundred grand in updates and improvements. The bastard said we have to put an elevator in. For God’s sake, it’s a two-story building and it’s all offices on the second floor. I think we’ll just close the store, take the hit, and hope we survive.”
“We will survive,” Jean said. “And then we’ll redouble our efforts online.”
“Your case sounds similar to others I’ve heard about. Has he offered to settle out of court?”
“No, in fact today’s meeting was to tell us he’s actually going to file suit for over a hundred grand. I mean, Jesus Christ. We got a one inch lip on the door and some guy with a walker trips on it and now we’re gonna be out of business. My ma uses a walker, goddamnit.”
“Tom, you’re raising your voice, again,” Jean said and placed her hand over her husbands in an effort to calm him.
“Well, Jesus, it’s enough to really piss me off.”
“Your situation sounds similar to some other cases I’m aware of with this guy. I can tell you this. After he files, he’ll most likely come back and offer to settle out of court for five to eight grand, depending. That said, the few folks that have stuck to their guns and fought him in the past usually end up having their cases dropped, but they’ve probably spent that same amount of money in legal fees.”
“So what’s he get out of it?”
“The money. Rather then you spending the funds to make the improvements, he takes the money, and well, keeps it.”
“Can he do that? That’s gotta be against the law.”
“He settles out of court with folks. They basically pay him, and he just keeps the money.”
“Now I really want you to shoot the bastard.”
“Expect him to come to you sometime in the near future with an offer to settle.”
They both sat there and shook their heads.
“Before this, his scam was in the porn industry.”
“Pornography?” This time Jean raised her voice.
“Yeah.” I went on to explain the Bunny Hutch scam.
“So what’s your interest in all this? Did he sue you?”
“No, mine’s more personal.” I took out a business card and wrote down Pat O’Leary and Jack Griffith’s names. “These are two attorneys who fought this jerk and won. They could probably turn you on to other folks as well. I might also recommend that you file a complaint with the state bar association. I know they’re looking into this guy. I’ve heard talk of disbarment and your complaint just may serve as one more nail in his coff
in.”
“I’ll file the complaint this afternoon.”
“You got my card, please keep me posted.”
“Yeah, you bet. Listen, same thing. You hear something you let us know. Here’s my card,” Tom said, and slid his card across the table.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Morton and I had just walked into the office after my meeting with the Connelly’s. It was the middle of the afternoon and at least two hours before the girls in the third floor apartment were due home from work. Louie was seated in my desk chair looking out the window with the binoculars. “You picking up some action across the street?”
“No, just some big guy parked out there in that green SUV. He’s been sitting there for the last couple of hours. I thought he might be dead, but every once in a while he moves.”
“Let me take a look.” Louie handed me the binoculars. I adjusted the knob and focused in on the guy. He was sitting in a dark green SUV, a Mercury Mountaineer to be exact. From the look of the rust over the wheel wells not the newest vehicle in the fleet. I’d done enough stakeouts in my day to recognize that the angle his side mirror was turned wouldn’t help his driving. “I’d guess that guy is checking something or someone out. That side mirror looks like it’s focused on the entrance to our building.”
“You think he’s checking Gary?”
“The State Farm guy? Gotta be an easier way to get better rates than that. No, I’d say he’s checking us out, or me to be more precise.”
“Hackett?”
“Yeah, that putz is probably working for him after my interaction with Hackett last night. No offense, but if you spotted him I’m guessing he can’t be too experienced.”
“No offense taken. What do you want to do?”
“Do? Nothing, I think we’ll just let him sit there, waste the day, and hopefully run up the bill Hackett will have to pay.”
I made a bunch of phone calls, left two messages for Heidi, and one for AJ. Louie tapped away on his keyboard. It was close to six when I glanced out the window again. The SUV with our pal sitting in it was gone. “Hey, your pal left.”
Louie looked up from his computer, “He’s pulling away now?”
“No, I just checked and he’s gone. No idea when he actually left.”
“Maybe he had to hit the head.”
“If he had any brains he’d just walk into The Spot. No one’s going to say anything to him.”
“Speaking of which I’m almost at a stopping point. You up for one?”
“I could be talked into it. Fifteen minutes?”
“I’ll see you over there,” Louie said and proceeded to shut down his computer.
I’d lost track of how long we’d been at the bar. It was still light out when I walked in and it had been dark now for quite a while. The place was quiet tonight, just one couple in a booth behind us, two guys at the far end of the bar, and three girls throwing darts. The blonde in the trio was pretty loud. She seemed to be more than a little over served and looked familiar, although I couldn’t place her.
Jimmy stepped in front of us, “You guys ready for another or you gonna call it a night?”
Louie looked over at me and raised his eyebrows. “Maybe just one more?”
“Yeah, why not.”
Jimmy delivered the drinks in record time, then walked down toward the two guys seated at the end. Louie and I had both worked at avoiding any discussion that had to do with Austin Hackett.
“So what’s your plan for tomorrow?”
“I’m going to continue lining up folks who will help me convince Heidi that Hackett’s a jerk.”
“Think she’ll buy into it?”
“I can only try. I’ve got his ex-wives. Nancy Reilly is the only one locally but she’s credible. Maybe the couple I spoke with today, the Connelly’s. I was thinking Clarence Rutherford, the limo guy, but he’ll probably stick to that client confidentiality crap so I’ll consider him my “B” team along with those attorney’s whose names you gave me.”
“Griffith and O’Leary?”
“Yeah. Time is running out. I can feel it. I’ve got two calls into Heidi and she hasn’t returned them. Might be a coincidence, but it’s very unlike her. Even in the past when she was pissed off she’d take my call if only to give me a piece of her mind. I’d say he’s putting pressure on her.”
“Maybe he’s gonna sue and he told her the best thing she could do would be to not correspond with you. Frankly, that could be some sound legal advice, at least from her perspective.”
“And his.”
“Well, yeah.” Louie, drained his drink then pushed off his stool. “I gotta head home. Don’t do anything stupid tonight.”
“How much trouble can I get in on the way home?”
He didn’t answer that, but just gave me a look and said, “See you in the morning.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The gals throwing darts had cleared out along with the couple in the booth behind me. I was retelling jokes with Jimmy and ordered another beer. The two guys at the end of the bar seemed to be mesmerized with whoever Jimmy Fallon was interviewing on The Tonight Show. Jimmy, the bartender, was busy telling me about his daughter finishing medical school.
“Good thing she got her brains from her mom,” I said and drained my glass.
“And her good looks,” Jimmy added.
“Probably see you tomorrow, Jimmy. Take care.”
I headed out to my car, it was parked on Victoria, back toward the rear of my building. The stop light on the corner had just turned red, but at this hour it was quiet, not a moving vehicle in sight in any direction. I crossed the intersection at a diagonal and headed for my car. I gave a little whistle once I crossed the street and Morton popped his head up in the backseat. He held what was left of his chew toy in his mouth.
“Hey, Morton.”
He began pacing back and forth across the rear seat, then he suddenly dropped his chew toy and started barking. Just as I began to turn round something smashed into the side of my head knocking me to the ground. I saw a momentary flash of stars, but was still conscious enough to sort of half somersault back onto my feet.
It was the two guys from The Spot, the ones who’d been drinking at the end of the bar. It suddenly dawned on me that the larger of the two was the same guy we’d spotted sitting in the Mercury Mountaineer earlier in the day. I recognized the crew cut… not that it did much for his looks.
“Thought we’d maybe relay a little message to you, asshole. One you’re not going to forget.” He appeared much larger in person, standing in the street and looking to hurt me. He had the build of a weightlifter, muscled chest, arms and a thick neck. There was some sort of design tattooed around his left bicep and his nose seemed to flatten into his cheeks like it had been broken so many times it was just cosmetic. I picked up an accent, maybe south side of Chicago. “Think you’re some kind of tough guy playing games in a bar with our pal’s piece of ass?”
“You mean those girls playing darts?”
“Shut up,” he said. They suddenly spread a little further apart, sort of turned sideways with their fists up, and got in a halfway crouched position. I took a couple of steps back then bumped into the trunk of my car. Morton’s barking had gone up a notch or two and he didn’t sound very happy.
“Can’t we talk this over? Come on.”
His pal pulled what looked like a black leather sap from out of his back pocket, slapped it in the palm of his hand, and grinned. The musclebound creep with the tattoo said, “You’re about to get your ass kicked, dumb shit. Even your stupid dog knows.”
“What’d you just say?”
“I said your stupid dog knows…”
He suddenly shut-up at the sound of the hammer clicking on my .38. As I drew it out from behind my back they gave one another a quick glance, not exactly sure what to do next. I kept the weapon pointed down, letting it hang alongside my knee.
“You think you’re gonna shoot us? We s’posed to be scared now? Cop
s’ll lock your ass up and throw away the damn key,” he said, then took a half step back.
“Not when they see who I shot. Maybe you should just get your ass out of here before you get hurt, both of you.”
“You ain’t getting off that easy, dumb shit.”
“You know there always seems to be someone just stupid enough to think I’m not serious, I don’t know what it is about me.”
“Maybe it’s because you’re an asshole.”
“Probably,” I said then fired my pistol into his right foot from a distance of about three feet.
“Arghhh,” he screamed as he went down, grabbing his foot and rolling into the middle of the street. There seemed to be a halfway decent sized hole in the sole of his shoe.
His partner had a stunned look on his face. Just as he began to refocus on me, I slammed the barrel of the .38 across the bridge of his nose. When he brought both hands up to his face, I kicked him between the legs, definitely making contact. He groaned and stumbled against the trunk of my car. I grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head against the trunk a few times making a hollow thunk sort of sound and denting my car until he went limp and just slid to the ground.
The yellow glare from the street light on the far corner gave a macabre look to the entire scene. I stepped over to the guy laying in the middle of the street holding his foot. His groan suddenly turned into more of a whimper and his eyes grew wide as I placed the barrel of the .38 on the tip of his nose and pressed hard. I pressed my knee up against his chest and pinned him to the asphalt. “I’m thinking it might be a good idea if you two just went back to whatever shithole you came from, don’t you?”
