by Mike Faricy
“Three hundred a day just to hang around. Minimum three days paid in advance. Any interaction with these individuals, the fee is commensurate with the results. Five hundred for a shouting match, seven-fifty for any physical contact. If they end up in the emergency room, that’s a grand, per individual. Over night stay in the hospital, three grand, per individual. All payable upon completion. You cover any court costs and my legal fees. I don’t cut grass, do laundry or help clean up. I’ll work an eight-hour shift, unless we arrange something in advance.”
I had the distinct impression this wasn’t the first time Lydell had rattled off his fee schedule. “You need a contract?” I asked.
“A handshake and three days in advance will do.”
Chapter Forty-Three
“Actually, he comes across as a pretty nice guy,” Marsha said then thought for a second. “In a smarmy sort of way. Very impressed with himself, likes sports cars, made a point of telling me twice that his wife had passed away,” she said, then glanced over again at Lydell and smiled.
We were eating late lunch cheeseburgers in a corner booth at Shamrock’s, out of earshot of everyone, except Lydell, who seemed focused on the NASCAR event running on the televisions overhead.
“He make you an offer?”
She shook her head and swallowed. “Not in so many words, but it was out there on the table.”
I gave a questioning look.
“Believe me, it was out there. A girl just gets to know it. I want him to come out and say it, not make it look like I forced myself on him.” She gave another quick glance to see if Lydell was listening.
“You run into Dawn Miller?” I asked.
“That H.R. cow, no, thankfully. At least, not in the past two days. But she was not happy to see me when I started in the office. Made a point of telling me she didn’t know what Gaston was thinking and she couldn’t guarantee I would be on staff for any length of time. God, she’s one of those women who whine when they talk, really annoying and more than a little bit frosty, if you ask me. I’d be willing to bet she hasn’t gotten any in quite a long time.”
“Be careful around her. You remember what I told you?”
“Being Gaston’s latest love toy? Oh, please, Dev. Believe me, he’s got the pick of the litter in that place. He’s not wasting his talents on her. Oh, icky.”
“Just be careful. I think she sees herself as guarding the gate. Remember, I tailed Pauley to her house.”
“Yeah, yeah, relax, will you?” she said, then took another dainty bite of her cheeseburger as she shot one more quick glance in Lydell’s direction.
“What’s next?” I asked.
“God, we’ve got some old chick dancing under the name, Cougar. Wants to hold a prayer meeting at Nasty’s at the end of every shift. Yeah sure, that’s what everyone feels like doing after dancing for six hours. Have a prayer meeting after two in the damn morning.”
“Actually, I meant at Gaston Enterprises.”
“What? Oh, sorry…you know leading the double life and all. I’m in there for a few hours tomorrow then Gaston takes me out to lunch for my week review on Friday.”
“Review?”
“I’m guessing lunch will be at some hotel and he just might have a room waiting.”
“You’re not actually going to go into a hotel room with this guy, are you?”
“Relax, I’ve already got the ‘mom needs to be taken for a doctor’s appointment’ excuse and a lab class after that lined up. I’ll spring it casually on our way to lunch, use it as a reason to stay off any adult beverages. The more I know about this guy, the more convinced I am that Desi was set up.”
“Just watch yourself. Lydell here has his hands full just taking care of me.”
“Pity,” she said and smiled as Lydell looked over at the two of us.
Chapter Forty-Four
We were driving back to the office in Lydell’s truck. He had some country station programmed in on satellite radio. The truck, with its dual wheels and Ultimate Fight Club stickers may have looked like a beast, but it was plush and comfortable as hell inside and a giant step up from my de Ville. I was enjoying just looking out the window as Lydell drove.
“So, Marsha works for you? Sort of like a special secret agent or something?” he said.
“Actually, no. She doesn’t work for me. She more or less inserted herself in my investigation and is attempting to get some sort of reaction or a signed and notarized confession from our main suspect. Nice gal, but she’s more than a little in the way, muddying the waters.”
“Think the guy will sign the confession?”
I turned to face Lydell. “I was kidding. That’s the problem, she’s just sort of in there mixing things up with no specific goal or end game in mind.”
“Sounds sort of like life,” he said.
“Yeah, sort of.” I wasn’t sure if he had missed my point entirely or was thinking way deeper than I had given him credit.
When we got back to the office, I phoned Karla. She answered on the second ring.
“Hi. Karla, it’s Dev.”
“What’s the latest?”
“The latest? Well, no real progress on the investigation, although someone did trash our office and pretty much totaled my car.”
“You’re kidding. Was it a hit and run?”
“No, just a lot of damage…knocked all the windows out of my car. The thing is gathering dust down in the impound lot now. I’m thinking real hard about pulling the plug on it, my car.”
“You need a set of wheels? I got a vehicle here just collecting dust.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, you can have it. I mean to use if you want. But, I gotta tell you…its not exactly what you’d call subtle.”
“Would it fit under the category ‘pimp my ride’?
“Definitely.” She laughed.
“We’re on our way.”
Karla wasn’t kidding. The thing was a Lincoln Town Car, the kind with the suicide doors and the vinyl top, only this vinyl top had a flame pattern emblazoned across it, Spreewell spinning rims, a one foot diameter steering wheel that looked like a chrome chain and about a thousand coats of lacquer over metallic dark blue paint. I stood there and stared once the tarp had been pulled off.
“Sweet,” Lydell said.
“Yeah, in a strange way. It’s a sixty-four, if you can believe it. Get this, that’s actually Nightmare blue. The paint color, I mean,” Karla said.
“It really shows off this gold crucifix on the trunk,” Lydell said staring at the emblazoned car trunk.
“Don’t even get me started. That’s six caret gold paint across the trunk, if you can believe it. That was sort of the last straw.”
“Where’d you get this thing?” I asked.
“Ramon, one of my ex’s.” She shrugged, but didn’t elaborate. “His toy, I just paid the bills. God, he could stand here and tell you things about this car for the next two hours, way too much information. But, it’s all mine now, to do with as I please and I’d be pleased if it can help you out. Course, like I said, it’s not what one would call subtle.” She laughed again.
“That’s gotta be the understatement. Is it insured?”
“Up the wazoo, so don’t sweat it. But let me warn you, the mileage it gets is downright sucky.”
“It beats walking. Lydell’s been hauling me around and I’m sure he’s had enough of my advice and direction. Yeah, Karla, if your offer is still open, I’ll take it.”
“To use,” she said.
“To use,” I repeated.
We went up to Karla’s office, so she could make a copy of my driver’s license and give me a copy of the company insurance policy.
“Just don’t smash it up, promise,” she said
“Scouts honor. Hey, how’s my pal Pauley doing?” I asked.
“Pauley?”
“Kopff. Short, spiked hair, not too bright, probably attempting to scam you a number of different ways even as we speak. Last time I
saw him here he was cleaning interiors.”
“The scam part could apply to just about anyone of them. But I know the guy you mean. Hope you’re not counting on seeing him. We let him go earlier in the week.”
“Oh?”
“The usual. They get out of the half-way house and suddenly they just don’t seem to be able to handle the responsibility side of things. You miss three days work here and you’re out. That’s my policy. He missed four. I think he used up both grandmothers and an elderly aunt or something. Amazing how all the funerals seem to land on a Friday or a Monday and just happen to extend the weekend.”
“What did he say?”
“Say? I don’t think he even bothered to come in. We finally just called and left a message, told him his final paycheck was in the mail.”
“You know where he might be working now?”
“I doubt he’s working anywhere, Dev. Guys like that are always too busy planning the next scam.”
Chapter Forty-Five
“I don’t like it,” Louie said. He had his feet up on the church basement tables he’d found somewhere and brought in for my desk. My feet were up on the window sill. Lydell looked to be dozing in the corner.
“The car? Yeah. I know, I’m getting a lot of strange looks and it’s a bit of a gas hog, but that’s still cheaper than renting or buying some bomb.”
“I meant your lady friend firing that jackass.”
“Oh, Pauley…you can’t blame her for firing the guy.”
“I get that part. I just don’t like the fact that he now has twenty-four hours a day free to come after you, Dev. His last visit worked out so well for us,” he said then jiggled his chins in the general direction of the plywood still over the front window.
“Except that, don’t you think he would have tried something else by now?” I said.
“Possibly,” Louie said. “But does he know you’re even doing anything? I don’t know, maybe he thinks he scared you off. As a matter of fact, are you? I mean, doing anything?”
“I’m reviewing facts and shit.”
“In other words, no, you’re not doing a thing.”
“Things are momentarily, sort of at a standstill and I’m not exactly sure what to do to be honest. Which reminds me, I’d better get in touch with Marsha. She’s supposedly getting a work review by none other than Gaston the slime ball, tomorrow.”
“A review?” Louie said then seemed to stare off into space.
“That’s his term. She thinks he’ll try and ply her with drinks over lunch and then get a hotel room.”
“That actually works?”
“Not with her.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Either all was forgiven or he’d forgotten he’d kicked me out for a month. It didn’t matter. Benny the bouncer took a quick glance at my ID and motioned me inside Nasty’s. Marsha was dancing tonight and I figured it might be the only time I could talk with her before she went to lunch with Gaston. She hadn’t bothered to answer any of the phone calls or text messages I’d left for her over the course of the day.
I couldn’t spot her working the room, so I ordered a beer that turned out to be both warm and flat then grabbed a back table. Marsha, aka Brandi, came on stage about thirty minutes later with her hobby horse, wearing a pair of leather chaps and a cowboy hat. She danced to three songs, then gathered up her tips and exited the stage. As I looked around I had the distinct feeling the crowd seemed older than the last time I was in here. A lot of salt and pepper hair wearing loosened ties and unbuttoned starched collars mixed in with the baseball cap and T-shirt crowd.
Marsha appeared a few minutes later. I was attempting to wave her over just as applause and ear splitting whistles erupted throughout the place.
“And now for your viewing pleasure, the infamous Cougar, growl,” the announcer screamed over the sound system as the old Pat Benatar tune Treat Me Right blared out.
“Dev, oh my God, what are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, Marsha. Sit down for a second so we can talk. You get any of my phone messages?”
“Yeah, but…look you’re going to have to slip me a twenty if you want to talk,” she shouted over the cat calls directed toward the stage then glanced around nervously.
“What?”
“House rules, Dev. Otherwise they can ban me. They’ll think I’m giving freebies.”
“Okay, okay.” I pulled a twenty out and set it on the table.
She picked it up in one quick practiced motion and stuffed it into the side of her thong. “Thanks,” she said and sat down. “Is…ahhh, Lydell with you?” she asked, looking around and sounding hopeful.
“No, sorry, just little old boring me.”
“So, what’d you want to talk about?”
“Well, your meeting with Gaston tomorrow, for starters. I want to be there.”
“Be there?”
“Just watching your back. Me and Lydell.”
She nodded and smiled like Lydell’s presence would suddenly make it acceptable. “Okay, but how do you plan on doing that?”
“He’s taking you to a restaurant?”
“I think so.”
“We’ll just be sitting at a nearby table. Simple.”
She said something, but the sudden applause and cheering drowned her out.
“What?”
“God,” she groaned. “It’s that damn Cougar. She’s the one who wants us to pray once we’re finished for the night. She’s an absolute nut case, driving all of us crazy. Remember? I told you about her?”
“Sort of. She seems to pack them in, that’s for sure.” More than one idiot was on his feet giving Cougar a standing ovation as she exited the stage. “Look, you’ll have to tell me where Driscoll’s taking you for lunch.”
“That’s just it, I have no idea.”
“So we’ll be near your office. Find out and call me, or when you get to the restaurant or hotel run to the ladies room and call me from there.”
“You can’t follow us?”
“I’m driving sort of a conspicuous vehicle,” I said. “Look, maybe if…”
“Well, Dev Haskell, must be your lucky day, Sweetie. Here to see about another three-way?”
A cloud of cheap perfume seemed to descend on us like mustard gas. She was close enough that her see-thru leopard skin nightie brushed my cheek as she twirled in front of our table. I was afraid I may have contracted some hideous social disease when it brushed across my face. I knew her from another time when she had been just plain old despicable, Swindle Lawless. But tonight she was ‘Cougar’, the star attraction at Nasty’s.
“You…you…you actually know her? You know Cougar?” Marsha looked shocked.
Cougar grinned. “Me and old Dev had a three-way one night ‘Member, Dev? With that little girlfriend of yours? What the hell was her name? Holly, Helen?”
“Heidi,” I said. “And if you’ll recall, nothing happened. You were intoxicated, so drunk you passed out as a matter of fact, and you simply needed a safe place to spend the night.”
“Yeah, so you say, Bad Boy. But, you know, the three of us in bed. Well…”
“Believe me nothing happened, Swindle or Cougar, or whatever it is you’re going by nowadays. Marsha, it was just a case I was involved in some time ago,” I said, ignoring the interruption and trying to save the moment.
“It’s Brandi, and I gotta move to the next table,” Marsha said, jumping off my lap and stalking off.
“Hmm-mmm, guess she’s not too eager when it comes to sharing. Least not yet,” Cougar cackled. “Good seeing you, Dev, but it’s gonna cost you twenty to have me sit down. Sorry. Course on the other hand, you already know I’m worth it,” she said and cackled again.
“Tell you what, Swindle. Maybe you’d better attend to all your fans.” I indicated a number of intoxicated and formerly distinguished gentlemen waving twenty-dollar bills in her direction.
“Your loss, Hassel baby. But don’t you worry, Honey, you always got a rain chec
k just for old time’s sake,” she said, then winked like she meant it, turned, took two steps and sat down at the nearest table.
Chapter Forty-Seven
We were parked around the block from Gaston Enterprises ignoring the stares from curious passers-by when we weren’t out plugging the meter. If they didn’t walk past pointing and laughing, people literally stopped and stared at the flame-decorated vinyl roof and the gold crucifix emblazoned across the trunk. We’d been sitting there for the past three-and-a-half hours, accomplishing absolutely nothing.
“I don’t know, Dude, it’s after two-thirty. We wait much longer and he’ll have to buy her dinner instead of lunch,” Lydell said.
“God damn it.”
“Think maybe she stiffed you, just blew you off? You said she was pretty pissed off last night. You know how they can get.”
“It’s entirely possible. Not the first time some woman vowed never to speak to me again. I just hope she didn’t think she could handle this creep by herself. I’m thinking if he’s on to her and he’s got Pauley and those other two thugs involved…well, there’s no telling what they might do.”
“And you called their office?”
“Lydell, you were right here next to me when I phoned. They said Driscoll was in meetings all afternoon and couldn’t be disturbed. Not like I can really leave my name and number.”
“Maybe they’re going at it in his office right now. You know, all torched up and...”
I looked over at him, but didn’t say anything.
“Only saying, man.”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about her.”
“Maybe give her a call?” Lydell said.
“I’ve sent her four text messages already. You know many women who ignore one text message, let alone four?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
A little after three, I pulled away from the curb and drove back to my office where we sat and continued to accomplish absolutely nothing. While Lydell sent a text to Annie, I phoned Gaston Enterprises but I didn’t ask for Gaston Driscoll.
“Marsha Norling, please.”
“Just one moment, I’ll connect you.”
