Jake Hancock Private Investigator mystery series box set (Books 1-4)

by Dan Taylor

  “I’m not angry with you. I’m just taking care of business.”

  “What business? I know you’re behind this amnesia thing. But I don’t why you did what you did. You can walk out of here and I promise to not look into a thing. Scout’s honor.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not going to be that simple.”

  “It is. Trust me. The door’s there. I’ll never return to the Agency again. It does involve the Agency, right?”

  “It does.”

  Damn it. Why did I ask that?

  “Then that’s all I need to know. The Agency? What Agency? I’ve forgotten already”—I point across the room at my bong—“I’ll smoke that thing all day and I won’t remember a thing. And this bullet, we’ll forget that it’s even there. Well, I’ll get it removed, but I’ll say some random dude shot me on the street. But you know what I mean—”

  Grace interjects, “Can you at least put your tits away before you shoot us? I don’t want those things to be the last thing I’ll ever see.”

  “No can do, I’m afraid, sugar tits. I start putting them away and one of you rushes at me. Do I look like I was dropped on my head as a baby?” Gerry replies.

  “Now that you mention it…”

  “Whore!”

  “Bitch!”

  “Plate-carrying slut.”

  I interrupt, “Ladies, can’t we at least make my and Grace’s execution civil?”

  There’s silence a second before Grace says, “So that’s where I know you from. The diner.”

  I think a second. “I’m confused. How did you work out Gerry’s Hayley Toothridge if you didn’t recognize her?”

  “I was standing waiting for the elevator, when I remembered something Gerry had said—something about the sex you had being mind-blowing. I knew that was a lie. Didn’t take much to work out Gerry was the mystery lady.”

  Our conversation is interrupted by whistling, and with the two-fingers-under-the-tongue technique. And on the same hand—the one not holding the gun—which looks a harder version of what my dad used to do. I’ve never felt more like a failure to my dad than at this moment.

  Then she says, “Have you two quite finished?”

  “We have,” I say.

  She points the gun at my forehead. “I’ll do you first.”

  “Wait! No, we’re not finished.” I turn to Grace. “Isn’t there anything else that we need to discuss before Gerry shoots me? Anything at all?”

  Grace says, “Only thing I can think of is how one of Gerry’s tits hangs way lower than the other.”

  “Now’s not the time, Grace.” I need to buy some time, so I turn back to Gerry and say, “At least explain the whole thing to me before you shoot me. You owe me that much.”

  She lets the gun drop from its position pointing at my forehead to my chest. It’s working.

  “And why do I owe you that?” Gerry asks.

  “I don’t know. You at least owe me something before you shoot me. I don’t fully understand the logic of it myself, but people who shoot other people owe them something before. I want to say it’s a code…”

  She rolls her eyes. “Gee, it does sound like a convincing argument.” She straightens her arm and points the pistol at my forehead again. “I’m sorry, Jake.”

  “Wait! How will I know how clever you’ve been masterminding this whole thing if you don’t tell me?”

  “You can assume I’ve been really clever before the bullet smashes through your skull and tears through your brain.”

  She goes to pull the trigger. I cower, which would make my dad even prouder, I bet. He was always so good at whistling, and when it came to taking a bullet, Jake was just the toughest. Real man, my son.

  Grace stands up and moves in front of me. “Don’t do it! Shoot me first.”

  Gerry rolls her eyes again. “Go ahead. Explain why I should shoot you first.”

  Grace sits down. “Because I can’t stand to look at that little bit of dimply skin on your stomach just above your panties. Cottage cheese much?”

  “Okay, you’ve convinced me.”

  Just before Gerry trains the gun on her, Grace glances at me and makes this gesture with her head, this funny little nod. I have no idea what it means.

  Gerry says, “Any last words, sugar tits?”

  “Yeah.” Super-long pause. Then, “Jake, grab her!”

  Oh, so that’s what it meant.

  I was not ready for that.

  Grace says, “Well, you really messed that up.”

  “How was I supposed to know that tiny little head movement meant grab Gerry and tackle her to the ground, making sure she doesn’t shoot me in the process? Ever heard of a note?”

  “And what would I have wrote it with, smarty pants?”

  “Have written. What would I have written it with, smarty pants.”

  Gerry interrupts our squabbling. “Will you two just shut up before I shoot you?”

  We do.

  “Good. Now here’s the new plan, just in case either one of you is thinking about trying to tackle me while the other one is being executed. Grace, you sit on Jake’s lap, putting your body in front of his. That way, Jake won’t be able to rush at me, as your fat ass will be sitting on him—”

  “Ouch,” I say.

  “Shut up.” She shoots me a look before returning her attention to Grace. “And if you do try to tackle me, Grace, you’ll be heading directly towards the gun. Hopefully some of the bullets I shoot Grace with make it through and fatally wound you, Jake.”

  “This is like the lottery, only much more exciting.”

  “Quiet. Now Grace, sit on Jake’s lap.”

  She does. I try to groan in an unsexy way, from the pain of having Grace lower herself onto my wound, but it totally comes out sexy. Then she says, “Eww, that isn’t what I think it is?”

  “Sorry.”

  “How can you have a boner at a time like this?”

  “I’m just a guy, and those over there are tits. Naked tits.”

  Gerry says, “Jake, the compliment means a lot. You have no idea how difficult it is being an aging lady in L.A.”

  “Don’t be silly. No problem.”

  “Okay. So I’m going to count to three.”

  “At least make it five. Three isn’t nearly long enough to prepare myself for taking a couple bullets.”

  “Okay, five.”

  She starts to count down. Before she makes it to two, the intercom buzzes.

  30.

  “WHO’S THAT, JAKE?” Gerry asks.

  “In our futures, I predict…no, it didn’t work this time. I should really get my money back for Fortunetelling for Dummies. Total rip-off.”

  “I meant are you expecting anyone?”

  Before I can answer, Grace says, “If you’re not going to shoot us straightaway, can I at least get off his lap?”

  “Stay where you are. I like you sitting there.”

  Now that I think about it, her nipples are looking tougher than a Vine and Dine buffet bar steak. She’s turned on right now. Kinky.

  Before Gerry continues, the intercom buzzes again. Twice this time. Then Gerry says, “Can the visitor hear what’s going on in the apartment without you pressing a button. Is it that type of intercom?”

  The type of intercom that doesn’t exist? “Yep. Sure. He can totally hear us.”

  Gerry raises an eyebrow and lowers her voice. “He? And reply quietly.”

  “Or she. Or whoever. Might even be an it. I sure as hell don’t know.”

  “Yeah, we got that. Okay, new plan—”

  “Does this supersede the other plan?”

  “That’s kinda what the new part means.”

  Now, Gerry and Grace haven’t been getting on too well. It’s understandable. But they take this moment, maybe my dumbest to late, to giggle like sorority sisters.

  “Yeah, laugh it up, ladies.”

  Gerry ignores me and speaks to Grace. “You know, if we’d have met under different circumstances, I think we might�
��ve made pretty good girlfriends.”

  Grace says, “I know, right?”

  “Why do we always let the guys get our shit all twisted?”

  I interrupt, “Yeah, because you ladies would’ve gotten on like a house on fire if it wasn’t for me. Best buddies. Scissor sisters.”

  Grace says, “Ew.”

  Told you. If you want a lady at a cocktail party to ew, I’m your man.

  The intercom again, buzzing three times this time.

  Gerry gets back on track. “New plan. You two go over to the intercom, keeping your bodies as close together as possible, so that if I shoot the one facing me, the bullet’s got a good chance of wounding both of you. When you’re there, Jake will do the talking and get rid of whoever it is. And Jake, if you give any indication that you’re about to be executed, I’ll execute you on the spot.”

  “So, if I give any indication that I’m about to be executed to whoever it is, you’ll execute me on the spot, giving whoever it is a pretty decent indication that I was about to be executed. Have I got that right?”

  She thinks about that a second. “Just don’t give any indication, okay?”

  “So what are the consequences of giving any indication? I’m confused.”

  “I’ll visit your sister and nephew after I’m finished with you.”

  “You didn’t exactly sound convincing. You stressed the wrong words.”

  Intercom buzzes again, this time four times. Is the dude who’s there counting? What’ll happen if we don’t answer soon? They’ll start buzzing the Fibonacci Sequence?

  “Just get over there and get rid of whoever it is,” Gerry says. “And stay close together. Remember, if I shoot the trailing one, which will be you, Grace—”

  Grace nods, complying.

  “I want that bullet to go through you and into Jake.”

  “Got it,” Grace replies.

  Then Gerry again, “Jake?”

  “I got it, too. But I’ve forgotten why it’s important that the bullet probably wounds both of us.”

  “I’ve forgotten too. But it seems like a sound plan.”

  I sigh and then Grace and I, with Grace trailing, shuffle over to the intercom, staying as close together as possible. We sure wouldn’t want any bullet aimed towards us just injuring one of us. That wouldn’t make any sense.

  Walking’s a bitch because of my bullet wound, by the way, which is totally ruining the surprise of finding out who’s buzzing my intercom.

  Gerry moves so she’s about four feet from us, pointing the pistol at us.

  Standing next to the intercom outside is a guy I don’t recognize. Please don’t be a door-to-door salesman. Or do, whichever results in Gerry not shooting us.

  I ask, “Can I lower one of my hands to press the button to speak?”

  Though I don’t see it, I can tell Gerry rolls her eyes. Then she says, “Real smart boyfriend you have here, Grace. At least tell me he’s good in bed.”

  Grace does an impression of me telling her to be gentler.

  Not even softer any longer. I said slower, and now all of a sudden it’s “gentler.”

  That sorority sisters giggle again.

  I changed my mind. It is a good idea that the bullet Grace gets shot with goes through her and into me.

  Then Gerry says, “Of course you can press the button, dumbass.”

  I do. “Hey, this is Jake. Who’s that?”

  “Oh thank God, Mr. Hancock. I’m your primary care physician, Dr. Eddie Barnes. There’s something we have to discuss.”

  No he’s not. My primary care physician is an old guy called Dr. Jennings. So who’s this?

  I have an idea who, so I play along. “Hey, Eddie. Long time no see. How are the wife and kids?”

  “Mm, good, I guess. This matter we have to discuss. It’s urgent.”

  “Now’s not a good time, Doc, but thanks for visiting.”

  “I’m afraid it has to be now, Mr. Hancock. We have to get you to a—”

  I have a plan. “I can’t hear you very well. Let me just turn up the volume.”

  I press the button to unlock the door and let him in, but the dumb son of a bitch misses the opportunity.

  “That better?” he asks.

  I look at Grace and then Gerry, pointing to my ear, as though to ask, Can you guys hear him?

  “No it’s not, Eddie. Let me just press the button again to increase the volume.”

  This time I hold it for longer. He stands there the couple seconds the door’s open.

  Time to throw caution to the wind. I press it again and say, “The door’s open. Come on up.”

  “Oh.”

  Third time’s a charm. He enters the building.

  Oops.

  Gerry gets real pissed and stamps one of her stiletto heels into my floor. The mark it’s left isn’t going to buff out.

  Then she says, “What the hell was that about, Jake? I told you to get rid of him.”

  “You didn’t. You said don’t give any indication. I didn’t.”

  She looks to the heavens and mutters some curse words. “You two sit on the sofa. I’ll sit opposite you, with a pillow on my lap, covering the pistol. You do anything less than get rid of this guy, I’ll blow all your brains out, and the blood of this doctor will be on your hands.”

  Grace and I sit on the sofa, as instructed, and Gerry puts her tits away and sits opposite us.

  As I said, this guy isn’t my GP. I have no idea how the LAPD found out—maybe one of my neighbors overheard Gerry threatening us—but this guy has undercover cop written all over him. Dr. Eddie Barnes? My six-year-old nephew could think of a better fake name than that.

  All we have to do is sit tight and wait for the cavalry to arrive.

  A couple minutes later, “Dr Eddie Barnes” comes into the apartment. I get a sinking feeling when I don’t see him enter in a tactical stance, making sure he’s covering all the angles by expertly sweeping the room with his weapon.

  Not only is he not doing that, but he’s rushing dumbly into the living room area, his arms flailing at his sides.

  And the cavalry? There isn’t one.

  “Mr. Hancock, we need to get you to a hospital,” he says. He comes farther into the room and then notices Gerry on the sofa chair to his right. “Oh.”

  Then he looks at Grace and me. We’re grinning stupidly.

  Maybe this guy is my new primary care physician. He sure as hell isn’t a cop. Gerry’s right. I don’t want his blood on my hands, or anywhere else on my person, for that matter. I especially don’t want even more blood on this shirt. This fabric does not dry clean well.

  I say, “As you can see, Doc, I’m a little busy at the moment.”

  He looks at all three of us again, confused, and then realization shows on his face. “I realize this is quite the male fantasy, Mr. Hancock, but I really must insist that you accompany me to the hospital. You’re in dire need of an operation.”

  Gerry plays along with his assumption. I suppose it would explain the pillow on her lap, kind of. “Mr. Hancock’s a little busy at the moment. We’ll be gentle with him and then we can bring him to the hospital ourselves. Now run along.”

  Gentle? Snide remarks at a time like this?

  He ignores Gerry, though I did notice he stole a glance of her cleavage before turning his attention back to me. Coca Cola should really consider advertising there.

  Doc says, “Any—mm—strenuous exercise could kill you, Mr. Hancock. I’d tell you your diagnosis, but I don’t think it would be appropriate in front of these two ladies. If you can just come with me?”

  I shrug. Seems like a good a response as any. Then I look at Gerry and see that she’s growing impatient.

  Get out of here, Doc! Run! I think. Save yourself and my shirt. In fact, fuck the shirt. Soon enough it’ll be soaking up my and Grace’s brain matter.

  I have one last chance to get rid of him. He looks like a married-with-two-kids type. Straight-laced. If this doesn’t get rid of him, I d
on’t know what will. “Stick around if you want to join in, Doc.” I nod at the bong. “And we’re going to smoke it up afterwards. It’ll be quite the party.”

  What Dr. Eddie Barnes says next surprises the shit out of me. “I’ll be on my way if you can do one thing for me—sign a waiver and declare that I did my utmost to save you from a sudden and painful death.” Mother Theresa he is not.

  Gerry’s had enough. She removes the pillow and points the pistol at him. “Okay, now you really screwed the pooch, Doc.”

  “What the hell? Why are you pointing that thing at me?”

  “Just take a seat. You’ve just earned yourself a sudden and painful death yourself. For sticking around when you shouldn’t have.”

  He looks around for seating, then looks at the tiny space left on the sofa next to Grace. “I can just go instead, and forget whatever it is that’s happening here.”

  “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. Take a seat next to sugar tits there. And reach for the sky.”

  Doc raises his hands and plants himself down next to Grace. Guy utters an apology to her. The sofa was advertised as a three-seater, but there’s not much room, I can tell you.

  Gerry stands up, thinks. “Now, which one of you should I do first?”

  Doc says, “Can you at least tell me what this is about before you shoot me? You owe me that much.”

  “That’s what I said,” I say.

  Doc turns to me. “You don’t know, either?”

  “No, I could probably hazard a guess. But I shouldn’t have to.”

  Doc turns his attention to Grace. “Do you know why you’re about to be shot?”

  “I have no idea, though I’ve seen this lady at the diner I worked at.”

  Doc says to Gerry, “I think you’ve got some explaining to do before you shoot us. You owe us that much.”

  Now Gerry’s real pissed. “Let me just make this clear: I don’t owe you three anything. For some reason, which I’ll leave unexplained, all three of you are going to be executed.”

  But Doc’s not finished. “Do you even know why you’re going to shoot us?”

  Gerry waves the gun at me and Grace. “I know why I’m going to shoot these two, but I’m a little hazy about you.”