by Faricy, Mike
“I’m afraid that sounds just a little too convenient,” Heller stammered.
“Look you’ve pounded on my client for almost three days here. Mister Haskell can’t remember a thing. Your own report indicates he was so severely drugged he was incapable of functioning. Let’s face it, he’s been set up. If I were you, I’d be out there looking to find out who and why?”
Amazingly, Louie seemed to have taken the wind out of their sails and they never got it back. I was back in my private cell by three that afternoon. About three-thirty, Louie and a sheriff’s deputy escorted a young woman to my cell. Although I couldn’t see them I could hear their approach based on all the whistles and cat calls.
“Dev, Amanda Nguyen, Amanda, Dev Haskell,” Louie introduced her through the window in the steel door. The sheriff’s deputy gave a nod back down the corridor to the central area so they would open my cell door. It was all computerized and the door opened electronically.
“Nice to meet you,” Amanda smiled, oblivious to her surroundings or the cat calls and whistles that continued. She stepped into my cell as the door opened with an audible click.
She was a gorgeous Asian woman just a little over five feet. I felt like I’d been locked up for years instead of a couple of days and couldn’t help but stare. I hoped I wasn’t too obvious as I attempted to suck in all her perfume.
“Doctor Nguyen is going to take that dental impression,” Louie said.
I looked around for someone else and she picked up on my stupid look.
“I’m a forensic odontologist,” she said, snapping open the briefcase she set on my bed.
“What?” I replied.
“A forensic odontologist, a dentist, in plain English.”
“She’s going to analyze the bite mark on Misses Barkwell,” Louie offered.
“We’re going to do a couple of things. First,” she said, then opened a Tupperware sort of container and pulled out what looked like a mouth guard. “I’m going to take upper and lower impressions. Have a seat,” she indicated the bed with a nod of her beautiful head. I caught another hint of perfume. It sure as hell beat the normal smells in my cell.
She took two impressions, and told me more than I wanted to know while she did so.
“I’ll use a G-clamp and a semi-adjustable articulator on these casts. I’ll be able to articulate the maxillary and mandibular positions, relative to one another. I can adjust the condylar angle, incisal and cuspid guidance and the shape of the glenoid fossae and eminintiae. Normally, I’d have to use a face bow, but I think not for this application.”
I just sort of made a noise pretending I understood as I sat there with five pounds of plaster shoved in my open mouth.
She turned to Louie and said, “I’ll run the usual tests on porcine skin, compare it to a life size photo. I’ve got the thing downloaded and ready to be enhanced.” Then she turned toward me and yanked the plaster cast off my upper jaw, it made a loud sucking sound. She slapped the lid on her Tupperware and nodded to the deputy, then turned back to me.
“With any luck, we’ll at least be able to prove it wasn’t you who bit the lady in the ass. It’s been real,” she said, reached in her briefcase and pulled out a sucker with a soft string handle.
“Its okay, Ramsey County Jail approved,” she smiled at the deputy. He shrugged and they exited my cell, the sound of whistles and cat calls echoed down the hall following them as they departed.
I lingered in the remnants of the good doctor’s perfume for as long as I could.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Eleven the following morning I was escorted by a deputy to a wooden chair at the courtroom table where Louie sat reading notes. We were on the third floor of the Ramsey County Courthouse, my bail hearing. The room had some sort of polished, dark wood paneling on all four walls. At the front of the room stood an alter-like affair, heavily carved and rising about fifteen feet into air. I slid into the hard wooden chair next to Louie, but was interrupted before I could really say anything to him.
“All rise,” the court officer called and everyone stood. Louie was on my left. We sat at one of two mahogany tables. He wore a pressed, dark blue suit with red silk pocket cloth. He was shaved, scrubbed and reeked of men’s cologne. The prosecutors, there were two of them at the other table, both square built butch-looking women, appeared frighteningly business-like in their matching grey suits. They seemed to be reveling in the task. I was sure they possessed a not so secret hate of all men and not so much as a hint of a sense of humor.
For this event I had changed from my county issued orange jump suit to a navy blue suit, starched white shirt, conservative tie and shined shoes. My entire ensemble was set off by a pair of nicely buffed steel handcuffs which the prosecuting attorneys insisted I wear. I didn’t know them well enough, but it seemed to suggest they might be kinky.
“Look relax, it’s just a ploy, court room theatrics at your bail hearing. I’ve been up against these two dykes before,” Louie whispered.
“Did you win?”
“Sometimes,” he replied, a little too off handedly for my tastes.
The judge entered, and took her seat on the bench. It wasn’t my first time in court but I couldn’t recall ever seeing her before. She seemed to sit a lot higher than other judges I recalled.
“Oh shit,” Louie hissed under his breath just as she looked down on us.
I was about to ask him what was wrong when the judge spoke.
“Thank you, I’m Judge Helen Slaughter, filling in for Judge Spofford this morning. It seems his honor had a minor traffic accident on the way in and is unable to sit at this proceeding. Therefore without further delay, let us begin in the matter of …” she glanced down at something in front of her.
“Ramsey County, versus one Devlin Haskell, bail hearing. Miss Metry, prosecuting for the city. Nice to see you this morning and are you ready, Miss Metry?”
“We are your honor.”
“And representing Mister Haskell, Mister Laufen, wouldn’t you know. Are you ready, sir?”
“We are your honor,” Louie said, standing and then continued. “Your honor, if it would please the court. We would like…”
“It does not please this court, as you undoubtedly know, Mister Laufen.”
“Your honor, I was merely about…”
“That will be enough, Mister Laufen.”
Louie, sat down and fought to appear in control while one of the prosecuting dykes read out the laundry list of charges against me. She stopped a couple of times to glance over at me as if she couldn’t believe the crimes I was being charged with.
Kidnapping, false imprisonment, rape, assault, sexual assault, and resisting arrest for warm ups. Then the kicker, she paused a half beat, glanced at me again and read the charge.
“Murder.”
She went on to suggest I was a danger to society and a flight risk. Frankly, listening to the charges, even I wouldn’t grant me bail.
Louie argued I had a business and a home and constituted no risk what-so-ever.
In just under eight minutes the thing was done, bail set at five hundred thousand dollars, half a million bucks. And, if and when I did get out, I would be wearing an ankle bracelet and required to check in with authorities, daily.
We were in a holding cell, Louie and I. He had replaced the plastic dry cleaning bag over my suit, straightened my coat on the hanger. I was stepping back into my orange jump suit as we talked.
“That seemed to go okay.” Louie said, undoing his tie and then unbuttoning the top two buttons on his shirt. The open area of his collar immediately filled with a couple of chins.
“Okay? A half million bucks for bail? I gotta wear an ankle bracelet if and when I even do get out, that’s your idea of okay? No offense, Louie, but could things have gone much worse?”
“You kidding, this judge, you’re lucky you’re not in some dark hole doing solitary confinement. She has no problem denying someone bail. I’d say we got lucky with all the news repo
rts of overcrowding and that bullshit due to state budget cuts. Otherwise, well like I said…”
“So how soon can I get out?”
“Just as soon as you can get someone to post for you. Any ideas who might have that kind of dough stuffed in a mattress?”
“No, not really, ten percent of a half million, five grand, hell,” I said.
“Actually, that would be fifty grand, Dev.”
“Oh shit.”
“Any ideas?”
“Yeah, well there is one person, Heidi Bauer, a friend. She’s posted bail for me before, I just don’t know about the number, I mean fifty grand.”
“You better go for the gold here, Dev, otherwise you’re gonna just have to get comfortable with your cell.”
“I’m not sure she’s exactly talking to me, just now.”
“Why, what happened?”
“Nothing, don’t worry. I didn’t assault her or anything, we just sort of agreed to disagree.”
“And she can make your bail?”
“Yeah, I think so, but the question is would she?”
“So call her, the worst she can do is say no. You’ll be no further behind than you are now.”
“You think?” I half hesitated, Heidi was gonna freak with another bail call from me.
“What, you can’t seriously enjoy being locked up, can you?”
“No, it’s just if I call her to post bail for me, again. This might be the safest place for me, locked up with armed guards to keep her away.”
“Deal with it. Look, you call her, give me her number, I’ll do a follow up. She the mother of a child, or one of your ex-wives, or anything like that?”
I shook my head no as I zipped up the orange Ramsey County jump suit and then held out my wrists so the deputy could handcuff me. “No, not an ex wife, I don’t have any children.”
“Like I say, unless you like being locked up, I mean it’s your choice. I’ll check in with you at the end of the day. I want to give old Doc Nguyen a call in the meantime.”
“Who?”
“Stands about this tall,” he held a fat hand about chest high. “Gorgeous, Asian, sexy, gave you the oral treatment yesterday and then something to suck on.”
The deputy kept his face expressionless, but his eyes moved from Louie to me, then back to Louie.
“Oh, yeah, Doctor Drop Dead Gorgeous.”
“Just checking to see if you were breathing. I’ll be in touch, take care,” he said.
“Thanks, Louie.”
He took a few steps, then turned at the doorway.
“And remember, not a word about anything to anyone, got it?”
“Yeah, got it.”
Chapter Thirty
Forty-eight hours later I was in the passenger seat of Louie’s car, a 2000 Dodge Neon, faded blue where it hadn’t already rusted. Our path was marked by a cloud of oily blue exhaust hanging in a toxic vapor behind us. Louie was back to wearing a wrinkled suit and smelling like bourbon. His car smelled like a wet dog. Or was that me?
“I still don’t understand how you got her to go for it. I told you when I called she swore at me then hung up.”
“Power of persuasion, that’s why I make the big bucks,” Louie said.
“No doubt,” I said, scattering crumpled fast food bags with my foot.
“Couple of ground rules, first, do not under any circumstances, go near or in any way contact Kiki Barkwell. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not kidding here, Dev. It’ll land you back in the slammer faster than a whore’s trick when the fleet comes in. And don’t try and be smart and phone her, or call and hang up, or get a flat tire in front of her house, or run into her at the grocery store, or follow…”
“Louie, relax, I get it. I mean, I am an investigator for God’s sake. I make my living watching people do stupid stuff, you know.”
“That must be why you have that ankle bracelet on.” He glanced over at me. “Look, they are not kidding, the cops. You need to phone whenever they buzz you on that thing, got it?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, then leered at a blonde as she pushed a baby stroller down the sidewalk, sporting head phones and plenty of bounce. God it was good to be out.
“I’m not kidding, Dev. I’ve had more than one client end up back in the slammer because whatever they were doing was too important to interrupt. The next thing you know cops got you locked up and once that happens, you ain’t getting back out, period.”
“Okay, I get it.”
Louie was ruining the moment with his advice.
“Next thing, GPS, it’s in that damn ankle bracelet so they can find you and track you. If you go near that chick’s house they’ll know and you’ll be a guest of the county for a lot longer than these past few days.”
“God, feels like a year since I’ve been out.” I said checking more of the scenery strutting past on Selby Avenue.
“Just keep in mind what I’ve said. And by the way, forget about getting that thing off and sneaking around. Lot better idiots than you or me for that matter, tried and it never works.”
“Look Louie, I appreciate the concern, but I’m not going anywhere near Kiki. Or, her weirdo brother, Farrell. Or, that bullshit craze, K-R-A-Z. Okay?”
“See that you don’t.”
“Believe me.”
“You might want to call your pal Heidi, just to keep her happy, we don’t need any problems on that front.”
“You know, I was thinking, it might be nice to thank her in person. Any problem with me going over there to her place?”
“Please tell me you’re not really that stupid,” Louie said, then shot a glance in my direction.
“You don’t think…”
“No. You don’t think, or at least, you’re not thinking right now. Just call and say thanks, tell her it’s a function of being monitored that you can only be on the phone for sixty seconds or something. But call, say thanks, then get off the line.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.”
He pulled up in front of my house, put the car in park, and turned toward me wedging himself between the steering wheel and the back of his seat. His suit seemed to be even more wrinkled than just a few minutes before.
“Look Dev, we’ve got half a chance here to beat this thing. What we don’t need is you sneaking around supposedly investigating. Let the cops do that. You just keep out of trouble, stay close to home, maybe read a book or something. Okay?”
I nodded, put my hand out to shake.
“Louie, can’t thank you enough, honest. I really appreciate all you’ve done for me. I promise, I won’t screw up.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” he said shaking my hand.
Chapter Thirty-One
It took about thirty minutes before I started losing whatever was left of my mind. At least laying on my couch was a lot more comfortable than that cot in my jail cell. I was really trying to follow Louie’s advice, let the cops take care of things. On the other hand, that’s exactly how I ended up wearing an ankle bracelet and out on bail to the tune of a half million bucks. I wanted to rush over and strangle Kiki, figuratively of course, sort of.
Instead I phoned Heidi to thank her.
“Hello.”
“Heidi, this is Dev.”
A very long dead space followed, eventually I said, “I wanted to phone and thank you for having faith in me and for posting my bail.”
More dead space.
“Look, I’m innocent. I didn’t commit any of the crimes I’m charged with.”
“You never do, do you? I mean, every time I post bail for you. Guess what? It’s never your fault, it’s always some other dumb ass.”
I suddenly liked the very long silence better.
“Look, I’m sorry you feel that way and it makes me appreciate what you did even more. I’m sorry you’re involved, I just didn’t know where else to turn. I felt like… Hello. Hello?”
She’d hung up.
I showered, shaved, went through my
mail, tossed it all into recycling. I looked out the front window for anything of interest. I drifted back to my kitchen checked around for something to eat. All I found was half a pepperoni pizza from over a week ago. It seemed to be growing some additional spice so I tossed it into the trash. Then drifted back to the front window where I stared out at the passing traffic.
I had just wandered back into the kitchen when the doorbell rang.
I opened the front door and there stood Heidi. Eyes puffy from crying and a grocery bag in either hand.
“Heidi,” I’d never been happier to see someone.
“I don’t know if I should hug you or just strangle you. You fucking idiot.”
“Would you settle for giving me a spanking and then maybe I could…”
“Shut up and let me in,” she said, then pushed me aside and stormed back to the kitchen.
“Honest to God, Dev. You have got to knock this shit off, you…”
I followed her into the kitchen like a little puppy.
“Heidi.”
“Just let me finish, you absolute, complete and total, idiot.”
She placed the bags on my kitchen counter, then began to pull out a number of small, white, takeout containers along with three bottles of white wine.
“Oh, sorry, I’m not allowed to have a drink with this ankle bracelet, thingy. I guess they can tell if I consume alcohol, somehow. Anyway, I better not…”
“It’s not for you, stupid, it’s for me.”
“Three bottles?”
“I’d say I’ve earned it, don’t you think? Besides, I’m staying the night.”
Next to making bail, that was about the best thing that happened to me in over a week.
We were at my kitchen counter the next day eating breakfast. It was close to one in the afternoon. I’d walked down the street to Nina’s Coffee shop, gotten a newspaper and four caramel rolls. Heidi was wearing one of my T-shirts and cramming a third caramel roll into her mouth.
“What I don’t get is why?” she said, a giant wedge of caramel roll shoved into the right side of her mouth.
“Why?”
“Yeah,” she licked her fingers, oblivious to how sexy she was just now. Or, maybe she did know.
