Bite Me (Devlin Haskell 3)

by Faricy, Mike

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “I think you’re doing a particularly lousy job on protection detail. How did you find these guys anyway? Don’t tell me you’re a fan?”

  “No, nothing like that, actually they contacted me. Someone gave them a referral and they called.”

  “Gave a referral on you? Jesus, they must have been nuts.”

  I couldn’t see anything that would be gained by answering.

  “What’s with this joint?” Manning asked. He was examining a number of dust balls from the back of the couch with his fingertips.

  “It’s a conservative radio show or station, I guess. They broadcast a fifteen minute radio message, four times a day.”

  “That’s it?”

  I nodded. “I think the rule of thumb is you have to hear something four times in a twenty-four hour period to make it stick.”

  Manning stared at me, wide eyed. “Something’s God damned goofy around here. And they got you through a referral? This ain’t your usual cheating spouse with the babysitter routine. What the hell do you do here, anyway?”

  Well, to tell you the truth not very much…”

  “There’s a surprise,” Manning scoffed.

  “I check out the building and parking lot a few times. Sit around up here. They usually never leave. Well, except for today, but I wasn’t kidding, I didn’t find out about that press conference thing until just before we stepped outside and in front of the cameras.”

  Manning nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “Be interesting to see if your people find the slugs.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t know, it’ll just be interesting,” I said.

  “You place the 911 call?”

  I shook my head.

  “Who then?”

  “Tell you the truth, I was watching the shooter’s car disappear down the street and heard the siren in the distance, pretty exceptional response.”

  “Yeah well, we’re known for doing exceptional things.” Manning said and then looked up as Farrell and Thompson returned.

  “The truth shall not be silenced,” Thompson said, settling back in behind his desk.

  “You were going to give me a list of everyone you contacted regarding your press conference.” Manning said and then set about attacking his piece of gum.

  Chapter Six

  Manning kept me cooling my heels at KRAZ for at least another hour. I had to pinch myself to stay awake. The only thing of any interest was a large fly circling around the ceiling light of the front office the thing looked about as desperate as me to find a way out. By the time I was given the okay to flee it was close to eight. I had just pulled up in front of my house when my cell rang. I attempted to read the caller id, couldn’t.

  “Haskell Investigations.”

  “Oh stop it, quit pretending to sound busy.”

  “Hey, Heidi, what’s happening?”

  My friend, sometimes lover for a night, and occasional bail bonds person, Heidi Bauer. I was guessing she was on the rebound from another failed relationship.

  “Believe me if there was anything going on in my life I wouldn’t be calling you. You eat dinner yet?”

  “I’m just on my way home, working late.” I glanced at my watch, almost eight. I pulled back onto the street and headed for Solo Vino, the wine store just a block away. It would take close to two bottles to get Heidi either in the mood or to the point she didn’t care if it was me in her bed. I had about four minutes before they closed.

  “Look I’m just doing some leftovers, you interested?”

  She must have already completed her standard week of swearing off all men forever and was thinking she could just use and abuse me, which was just fine with me.

  “I’m on my way,” I replied and hung up just as I pulled in front of the wine store. I waved wildly at my pal Chuck as he prepared to lock the door.

  “Cutting it close,” he said, holding the door for me.

  “Emergency rations needed.”

  “In other words you’re going to try and get some poor woman intoxicated to the point where she’ll forget how revolting you are.”

  “You know me, just drunk enough so they can’t testify.”

  “I shouldn’t even let you in. I should just lock the door, go home and rest with an easy conscience.”

  “Since when has that ever been fun, here I’ll take these two, no better make it three.”

  Heidi doesn’t cook, she never has. So the excellent meal she was taking out of the oven shortly after I arrived came from somewhere. We were at her kitchen counter sipping, midway through the second bottle of wine.

  “You still seeing what’s his name?”

  “Don’t ever mention that creeps’ name in my presence.”

  “Jerold?”

  “What did I just tell you?” she drained her glass.

  “Sorry, want to tell me about it?” I asked, refilling her glass.

  “No. Except, where do I find this constant parade of creeps?”

  “Last time we talked you said he was everything you ever wanted and more.”

  “Oh he was. Unfortunately the more part turned out to mean married.”

  “Oh that.”

  She took another healthy sip.

  “Yeah that.”

  “Speaking of married, did I mention I was involved in a drive by shooting today, actually that’s what I was coming from when you phoned. I thought it was a bogus protection gig and then…”

  “Plus his wife was pregnant, with two kids.” Another healthy sip.

  “She was expecting twins?”

  “No, they already have two kids this was number three on the way. I’m just lucky he didn’t knock me up.” She drained her glass and then slid it across the counter in my direction.

  “There you go, that good old positive attitude,” I said, pouring a refill.

  “It’s just a joke to guys, isn’t it?” she said, then downed half the glass I’d just poured.

  “So anyway, we’re all at this outdoor press conference and someone drives by and fires two rounds at us. My clients received a threatening note two days be…”

  “He tried to tell me it was his sister,” she said and took another large swallow. “I ran into the happy family at the Mall of America. Stupid me, I’m coming out of Victoria’s Secret with a couple of sets of date underwear and guess who I run into? The happy family, kids, mom ten months along and Jerold the jerk.”

  “So, did you return the underwear?”

  “Shut up. You ready for dinner?”

  “Yeah, what did you make?”

  “Whatever Carol was going to serve us for dinner that night. Jerold and I were supposed to go over there, but under the circumstances, you know, him, me, pregnant wifey and the two kids, I thought it might be a little much so I canceled. Carol sent dinner over so I took it out of the fridge this morning. I’ve been eating chocolates, donuts and ice cream for a week and decided I better get back to eating healthy.”

  “Well, it smells good, and you look great. His loss,” I raised my wine glass to her.

  “My glass is empty,” she said and held it out for a refill just to prove her point.

  Over dinner I heard, in no uncertain terms, what an absolute rat Jerold turned out to be. She was still in the process of composing the multi page email she planned to send. In it, she called Jerold every name in the book and reserved a special place in hell just for him. He could just languish in eternal flames chained next to Cambodia’s Pol Pot and whoever invented pledge week for public radio.

  I found the remote and turned on her flat screen just as the news led with “Shots fired at a St. Paul press conference.”

  “Oh God, I can’t take another minute, I’m going to bed. You coming?” she asked, more like a command, as she walked out of the kitchen.

  I figured I could catch the news later.

  Chapter Seven

  I had a vague recollection of Heidi kissing me good
bye when she left for work. I pulled a perfumed pillow over my head, drifted back to sleep, then woke to my cell phone ringing. I cleared my throat a few times before I answered.

  “Haskell Investigations.”

  “Where are you? We don’t have any idea what we’re facing, here.” It was Thompson Barkwell.

  “Thompson, sorry, meant to call, just leaving the police station. I’ve been meeting with a number of people, including their psychologist, trying to work up a profile,” I said, frantically looking for my boxer shorts.

  “Oh, really, what did they say?”

  “Bit too sketchy right now, they’re going to reexamine that note see if they can pick up anything from the hand writing.”

  “Hand writing? The damn thing was typed.”

  Shit.

  “Yeah, but the words used, the language, you know the thrust of the thing. It seemed to suggest an educated individual, perhaps someone familiar with philosophy, political theory, that sort of thing. Most likely well read.”

  “Yes, yes I suppose so.”

  “Anyway, secure facility, as you can imagine, so I couldn’t phone. I’m on my way over now, I should be there shortly.”

  “We’ll be waiting,” he said and hung up.

  I supposed it would be too much to ask that Heidi would leave me some coffee after availing herself of my services last night. It was. I’d have to stop for coffee on the way.

  I pulled into the warehouse parking lot at KRAZ. Crime scene tape was still wrapped around the area where the press conference had been held but the only person there was a kid ducking under the tape and going in the door. I parked next to what looked like an unmarked police vehicle. I had a bad feeling and left my cup of coffee in the car.

  “Well, Devlin Haskell, sleuth extraordinaire, sorry I missed you this morning down at the station.”

  Detective Manning seemed far too cheery standing in the front office of KRAZ sipping coffee. At six foot two he dwarfed Thompson standing next to him who looked like a stuffed animal you’d win at the fair.

  “I was explaining to Detective Manning about the profile the police psychologist put together. Educated, grounded in philosophy and political theory, well read. What else did you say?” Thompson asked.

  “Yes, yes, tell me what did you and the psychologist come up with?” Manning’s blue eyes focused in on me like lasers.

  “Well, it’s a bit complex, I mean you know yourself, Detective, any profile is a work in progress. Any news on a weapon or rounds fired?”

  “No, funny thing, nothing found, not even a point of impact. We’ve been over the front of the building with a fine tooth comb more times than I care to recall, nothing.”

  “Did you see the news last night, we were on all the stations, great publicity,” Thompson said, then dashed off to answer a ringing phone.

  “Psychologist?” Manning asked.

  “Yeah, I know, look I had to come up with something, I was working another case.”

  “Really, she has very nice perfume,” Manning sniffed.

  “And you guys haven’t found anything?”

  “Not so much as a scuff mark on the sidewalk.”

  “Could it have been blanks?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Why? Cause you said you didn’t find anything.”

  “You heard the shots, what’s your take?” He set his empty Starbucks cup on a stack of files, then opened a piece of gum, tossed it into his mouth and began to attack.

  “Well, yeah I heard them, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was thinking of something else, actually I was looking at a bus, and…”

  “A bus?” Manning half shouted.

  “Hey, have you heard these guys ramble on and on? You have to tune it out or you’d go nuts. Actually, what caught my attention was Thompson going down. Then, Farrell jumps on top of him, protecting him I guess. Somewhere in there I thought I heard a couple of shots.”

  “You saying they were down before the shots were fired?”

  “No, I’m saying I was looking at a bus, it gets crazy for two or three seconds and I can’t be sure of the sequence. Hell, I can sort of see the car speeding off, but I can’t tell you what kind of vehicle. Maybe grey, silver, light blue, I can’t be sure. I can’t even tell you if it had Minnesota plates.”

  “And you’re providing protection? Good luck.”

  Chapter Eight

  If the day didn’t go downhill from there it certainly didn’t improve. Time seemed to stand still. The phone at KRAZ national headquarters was ringing off the hook and interrupting any attempts at a nap. I had stationed myself on a wooden chair behind Detective Manning’s empty Starbuck’s cup and the stacks of files. I was reading a newspaper from about six weeks earlier, occasionally nodding off, when the door opened. A familiar figure with gleaming brunette hair and eating an apple strutted in.

  “Devlin Haskell?”

  Farrell’s lunatic sister Kiki, only now she had clothes on and I didn’t see a knife. I still thought it might be a good idea if I kept the desk between us.

  “Kiki?”

  “Hi, I hear there was a lot of excitement yesterday.” She smiled, wrinkled her nose and shrugged her shoulders like a sexy teenager.

  “Yeah, the good news is no one was hurt.”

  “They catch the guy yet?” she took two steps around the side of the desk.

  I folded my newspaper and then casually rolled it up just in case I had to swat her away.

  “No, I don’t think they have any suspects, yet.”

  “But they’re working on that profile, right? Farrell said you were involved in that this morning.” She took a step closer to me.

  “Yeah, yeah, we’re working on that and a number of other things.” I attempted to back up, but bumped against the chair.

  She suddenly squeezed my arm, leaned in close and whispered her breath tickled my ear.

  “That was so hot the other day, God, I lost count, you, well, lets just say you made me crazy,” she smiled, bit her bottom lip and thrust her cleavage against my arm.

  She was absolutely beautiful and certifiably nuts.

  “I don’t think I can wait very long before we do that again. What do you say?”

  I could hear her panting. As she let go she ran her nails along my arm then squeezed my hand, gorgeous brown eyes suddenly going wide. I felt like I had a gun to my head, or in Kiki’s case, a knife to my throat.

  “Yeah, it was really unique.”

  “Later Tiger, you may have just created a monster,” she growled softly, licked her upper lip, then turned and walked back to Thompson’s office eating her apple.

  I was sweating and thought it might be a good time to go check out the rest of the building. I wandered aimlessly through the top three floors of the building then drifted out to the tree line at the back of the parking lot just to see if someone might be out there with a rocket propelled grenade.

  No such luck, but I did see Kiki exit the building, bounce down the steps and walk over to the silver Audi parked next to my DeVille. She took her sweet time getting in, fumbling with her keys or something before she eventually got behind the wheel and pulled away. I went back up to KRAZ national headquarters where I twiddled my thumbs for the better part of the next three hours. The ringing phones prevented me from catching any serious shut eye. About five-thirty Thompson drifted out of his lair and stood in the doorway. Farrell hovered behind him in the shadows.

  “Say, looks like the threat has subsided, I don’t think we’ll need your services tomorrow, or the day after for that matter.”

  “What?”

  “I feel rather certain the danger’s past.”

  “The danger’s past? That’s interesting. When do you think you’ll need me then?”

  “Either you’re trying to be funny and you’re not. Or, I don’t think you’re following what I’m telling you.”

  “Which is?”

  “Which is, do not come in tomorrow, or the next day or ever, again,
for that matter. I think we have things well in hand, here, now. You can just leave and send us your invoice we’ll run it past the board.”

  “Board?”

  “Review board, before we sign off on any invoice over twenty-five dollars, our review board has to approve it. I’m guessing your invoice will be more than twenty-five dollars, won’t it? Look, don’t worry, the board meets every six weeks,” he added cheerfully.

  “So, when did they last meet?”

  “Oh about a week ago, on the twelfth, I believe.”

  “So I’m not going to get paid for another five weeks?”

  “I don’t know that I’d look at it exactly like that.” Thompson shook his head as he spoke. He placed his hands on his wide hips, apparently daring me to challenge the idea of waiting five weeks to have my invoice reviewed.

  “My terms are payment due when the invoice is presented.”

  “I understand, and we’ll certainly review that at the board meeting. Of course, we’ll have to be in receipt of your invoice before we can review it, for approval, that is.”

  “Yeah, well tell you what, why don’t I drop it off sometime tomorrow,” I suggested.

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary, don’t go to any additional trouble. You can just put it in the mail and we’ll…”

  “What, and trust the government? I don’t think so, besides, they could just as easily be monitoring all mail arriving at this address.”

  “Do you think so?” Thompson asked.

  I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. I was afraid he was, very serious.

  “I’ll drop it off, tomorrow” I said standing and stretching.

  “Well, suit yourself. Of course, you could always donate your time. Our listeners would tend to look favorably on a gesture like that.”

  Yeah, both of your listeners, I thought. Then said, “I’ll consider that, see you tomorrow,” and walked out the door of the asylum.

  When I got to my car, someone had scratched a large “Fuck You” onto the driver’s door, probably with a key. Kiki?

  Chapter Nine

  My cell ringing the following morning woke me up. By the time I found it resting in a shoe under my bed the call had dumped into my message center.