by Angus McLean
The only other furniture in the room was a single armchair and a small coffee table. Looking closer, Dan checked the empty spaces of where he would expect to see lounge furniture. Imprints could clearly be seen in the carpet where a couch and another armchair had been until recently.
Brian Marcus broke for lunch at 1230, and walked to the bakery down the road. It was the sort of place that did hotdogs and chips, big filled rolls and pies, and always smelt like a fry-up. He got his usual large sausage roll, carton of hot chips, and bottle of semi-cold full-fat Coke.
He paid and walked outside to get back to the office. He saw a dark blue Holden at the kerb and two men standing beside it waiting. One was Mike, the driver his brother had just sacked, and the other one was the guy Terry had said was a private detective. Brian’s heart dropped through the floor and he felt a sweat break out on his scalp.
He’d known this day was going to come, but he’d tried to kid himself it wouldn’t. Now it was here and his chest went tight and he couldn’t breathe and he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.
The other man stepped forward with his hand extended and a non-committal look on his face.
‘Hi Brian,’ he said politely, ‘I’m Dan Crowley. I’m here to help you.’
Brian shook his hand limply and wheezed like he smoked 100 a day. He wished he had a cigarette right now, but all he had was a smelly fried lunch and a guilty conscience. The other man spoke again.
‘We need to talk Brian, I won’t take up much of your time but I know you’re in a bad spot right now and I’m going to help you get out of it. Right?’
He waited for a reply, and Brian found himself nodding weakly. The grease from his sausage roll was coming through the paper bag and staining his shirt but he didn’t care. There was light at the end of the tunnel and he felt himself lifting inside.
It was going to be okay.
Dan stepped aside and held a hand out to shepherd Brian towards the car, where Mike was opening the back door.
Busy as they were, none of them noticed the rusted old Cortina cruise slowly past with three familiar heads in it, paying close attention to the activity outside the bakery.
Chapter Sixteen
Hooch, Gabe and Luther were waiting when Brian Marcus hurried out at the end of the day.
He stopped suddenly when he saw them, a guilty look on his face. He clutched his briefcase to his chest and gaped like a fish.
Hooch stepped forward, tense, a mean look in his eye.
‘What’s happening, Bri-baby? You lookin’ a bit stressed, bro.’
‘I, I...ahh...’
Brian looked around for help, but there was no-one. He was alone, and he was scared.
Hooch eyed him like a shark eyes a surfer.
‘You talked to that private eye, didn’t you Brian.’
‘I, I...’
Hooch slapped him across the face, hard enough to sting and get his attention. Brian let out a whimper.
‘You talked. You told them everything. Now me and my boys’re in a serious si-tu-a-tion. Unnerstand?’
‘I, I...yes, yes...’
‘Good. So you unnerstand this is your fault, don’tchu?’
‘I, I...’
His head spun from another slap and he whimpered again.
Hooch turned and looked at his boys. He nodded.
Gabe and Luther stepped forward. Gabe cracked his knuckles.
Brian Marcus let out a strangled cry, clutching his briefcase even closer and felt his knees give way beneath him. Guys like him weren’t supposed to end up in situations like this. He was no tough guy, just another sucker who couldn’t get an even break.
Gabe lifted him up by his arm and looked at him for a few seconds, curiously, like he was reading his face. Or sizing him for a coffin.
Gabe’s fist crashed into Brian’s gut, winding him and lifting his feet from the ground. He propped him up with one hand and hit him again. Luther waited his turn patiently, and Hooch stood back and watched, licking his lips with anticipation.
A pair of shadows fell across the ground from behind Hooch and he turned.
Dan and Mike stood there silently, game faces on, eyeing him. He grinned and let out a low whistle.
‘Well well well,’ he cooed, ‘looky looky here boys.’
His companions also turned, leaving Brian Marcus prone on the ground, curled up in a ball and gasping for air. Luther straightened his shoulders and rolled his neck, cracking it loudly. He and Gabe fanned out behind their leader.
‘You know that’s against the law, don’t you,’ Dan said calmly. ‘Of course you do, you’re a jailbird.’ He shrugged. ‘Silly me.’
Hooch smirked.
‘This ain’t your bidness. But since you made it that...’
‘Oh, it’s my ‘bidness’ alright,’ Dan replied mockingly, watching a flash of anger cross his opponent’s face. ‘It’s everyone’s business. You caused a lot of people heartache here, Hooch. So yeah, it’s my ‘bidness’.’
Hooch’s nostrils flared and his face flushed. He wasn’t used to being mocked.
‘Cheeky guy, dat it? You here to get down or what?’
Mike glanced at his partner.
‘Does he mean dancing?’
Dan held Hooch’s stare.
‘We’re not here for dinner and a movie, love.’
Hooch rushed him and Dan stepped aside, dancing out of his reach and slapping aside a flailing arm. The other two moved in at the same time and Mike met them halfway, ducking Gabe’s jab and lashing out with a boot to the side of Luther’s thigh, stopping him with a dead leg and dropping him. He came up with a block for Gabe’s next jab and grabbed him by the shirtfront, grappling with him.
Hooch recovered and stepped sideways, crabbing as if he was covering the blindside close in, waiting for Dan to make the next move. Dan feinted with a left jab and threw a right cross which glanced off Hooch’s temple, distracting him enough to get in closer and throw double jabs into the gut.
Mike swung Gabe by his shirt and kept him off balance, kneeing him in the leg a couple of times but not landing a decent blow. His main concern was to keep in close so the bigger man couldn’t get any swing behind a punch. Gabe got a hand onto Mike’s head and yanked backwards on a handful of hair, making space enough to throw an almighty haymaker.
Mike pulled his head aside just enough to take it on the tip of the nose rather than under the chin, and saved himself from a certain KO. His eyes immediately teared up from the sting and he pushed away, one hand wiping quickly at his eyes as he gave himself space.
Hooch had taken plenty of harder hits in his time than Dan had just given him, and was back into his opponent quickly, jabbing and thrusting and landing a couple of good ones to the face. Dan felt a cut open up on his cheekbone and blood began to leak. He sucked in air, blocked a good right jab and stepped in, blocking the left as well and leaving Hooch wide open.
He threw his weight into it and landed a right left right left combo to the gut, stepped half a step back and crossed his opponent’s jaw with another combination.
Luther grabbed Mike from behind and wrapped a brawny forearm around his neck, lifting him up and back. Mike’s air was cut off straight away and it felt like his head was going to be torn from his shoulders.
Gabe came in from the front and Mike flicked his foot up between the gangster’s legs, hitting pay dirt. Gabe crumpled to his knees with a squeal of pain, and Mike’s other foot caught him on the jaw, dropping him like a stone.
Dan felt the impacts shoot up both arms as he smashed his fist into Hooch’s jaw, driving through it to the left and then the right. Spray flew from the gang leader’s lips as his head whipped round and after the second hit his body followed through and spun away to Dan’s right, stumbling and grabbing at a pile of pallets for support.
Mike was desperately trying to pry Luther’s arm from round his throat, with no luck, so rammed his elbow backwards, hoping for a decent rib strike. The gangster was wise to that
old trick though, and grinned to himself as he easily blocked the blow.
His look suddenly changed to one of surprise as the back of Mike’s skull crashed into his nose and flattened it against his face. Blood burst out in a fan and he let go to grab at his face. Mike regained his footing and turned, one hand rubbing at his throbbing throat and the other waving round in a vague defensive move.
A hand seized hold of his ankle and yanked, sending him crashing to his knee then jerking him backwards. Gabe had crawled to within reach and was trying to rejoin the fight.
Dan saw what was happening and ran over to intervene, catching Mike’s eye as he did so. Mike’s eyes widened and he gestured frantically behind Dan, who looked confused for a second then clicked and started to turn again.
A length of 4x2 sliced through the air towards his face and he ducked, sprawling to the ground and rolling. The piece of wood slammed into the ground where he had been a second before and he was rolling again, trying to dodge the weapon Hooch had found. He rolled into Mike as his mate was about to strike at Gabe, and knocked him from his knees forward onto his face. Gabe lunged over and pinned Mike down, and Mike gave Dan a look of disgust.
Dan rolled to his knees, landed a quick jab to Gabe’s temple and leapt up, finding himself face to face with Luther, who now had blood flowing freely down his face and was madder than hell.
They looked at each other for a moment, both breathing heavily, and Dan wondered for a second whether his opponent was about to give up. Then the gangster grinned, showing blood-stained teeth, and swung a huge haymaker. Bright lights exploded in Dan’s head as he lifted a good foot off the ground and crashed into the pile of pallets behind him, sliding to the ground in a daze.
Mike bucked and heaved and managed to throw Gabe off him, scrambled to his feet and tackled Luther round the waist from behind, driving him hard into the pallets beside Dan. He spun the hood and slammed a series of rapid punches to the gut to wind him, grabbed his wrist and spun, whirling Luther round then letting go. The gangster flew against the wall of the warehouse with an almighty crash of tin and fell limply to the ground.
Mike spun low, fists up and ready to go, seeing Hooch stepping in from the right with the 4x2 raised and Gabe now standing to the left, ham-sized fists ready and snorting like a bull.
‘Come on ladies,’ Mike snarled, ‘who wants to dance?’
Both of them rushed him, which wasn’t really in his plan, and he quickly found himself wrestling with Hooch for the wood while trying to dodge the jabs Gabe was throwing whenever he got within range.
A Police car pulled into the depot then and headed towards them. Buck eyed the fight from the driver’s seat.
‘Hmm,’ he said, flicking the flashing lights on as he got closer, ‘I wonder who’s winning this one?’
‘Hmm,’ Molly agreed beside him, leaning forward for a better look. ‘Well that looks like my husband on the ground, so probably not him.’
Buck grunted. ‘He was always more enthusiastic than useful.’
Molly smiled coyly. ‘He’s a lover, not a fighter, Buck.’
‘Sorry I asked.’
Gabe landed a good one to the ribs and Mike grunted. He pulled Hooch towards him as Gabe lunged in again, and flicked the end of the 4x2 up, catching Gabe on the jaw and knocking him away. Hooch glanced towards his mate for a split second and Mike released the wood, thumping him on the chin hard enough to sit him on his backside.
Dan pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked around. Luther was out cold beside him. Mike was standing over Hooch with a piece of wood and saying something about dancing again. Buck was kneeling on Gabe’s back and handcuffing him.
Molly was standing beside Buck’s car watching, and he gave her a weak wave. Brian Marcus stood well over to the side, his mobile phone held up in front of his face.
Dan got to his feet and shuffled painfully over to Mike, dabbing at the blood on his face and working his jaw to see if anything was broken.
Mike leaned on the 4x2 for support and gingerly touched his nose, which was still trickling blood.
‘Ow,’ he said, wincing.
Buck shook his head at them as he handcuffed Hooch and hustled him over to join Gabe.
‘Private eyes,’ he scoffed. ‘What a couple of girls.’
‘Huh.’ Dan straightened up and felt his back click. He looked at Mike. ‘You alright, son?’
‘Am I alright? Are you alright? That was a bit of a beating you took there boy.’
‘Beating? That was a lucky hit there, I was just getting into it when Buck showed up. Looked like you needed a hand.’
‘Not from you, you looked like you needed your blanky and a lie-down.’
‘Huh.’ Dan waved over at Molly and gave her a cheery grin that didn’t quite reflect how he felt just at that moment. ‘”Who wants to dance”? What the hell is that?’
Mike grunted. ‘It’s better than “dinner and a movie,” where’d you get that gem from?’
‘The private eye handbook, I’ll loan it to you someday. You’ve gotta have a witty remark when you’re about to fight someone.’ He patted his mate on the shoulder and grinned. ‘So much to learn, mate, so much to learn.’
‘Can’t be that hard,’ Mike scoffed, ‘you do it...’
Chapter Seventeen
It was some time later, after statements had been given to Police and injuries had been attended to, that the Chase Investigations staff retired to their office. A quick stop at the bottle store on the corner was made and Molly busied herself pouring drinks while the boys eased themselves down.
Mike’s shirt was ripped and his nose was swollen and painful, but not broken. Dan’s cut cheek had been closed with a couple of butterfly strips and he also sported a black and purple bruise on his chin which leant more of a five o’clock shadow than normal. Both of them had bumps and bruises and generally felt like they’d been at the bottom of a monstrous ruck.
Watching them though, Molly sensed that despite their moaning and groaning, they’d actually thoroughly enjoyed themselves. She passed them each a Speights Summit, the bottles so cold there was condensation on the brown glass. Dan held the beer bottle to his chin and sighed painfully. Molly perched on the arm of the sofa beside him, a glass of lemon lime and bitters in her hand.
‘How are the poor old men?’ she asked facetiously, feigning concern. ‘Does anyone need any more painkillers or were the horse tranquillizers you got enough to ease the pain?’
‘See?’ Dan said, glancing at his friend with a frown. ‘Smart mouth. You get in a fight with three of the worst criminals in South Auckland, save a fourth offender slash victim from certain death or GBH, take a fairly decent beating in the process, and save a company from going under. All you want is a bit of a sit down and a cold beer to relax with, and whaddaya get? A smart mouth.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘It’s a terrible state of affairs, the world today.’ He looked up at his wife and gave her his best Jake the Muss. ‘You got too much lippy, woman.’
‘Ehh.’ Molly shrugged carelessly and sipped her drink. ‘I think you actually quite enjoyed it anyway, and now you’ve got battle scars to impress the clients with.’
Dan’s lip twitched beneath his moustache, and he caught Mike’s eye. ‘It was kinda fun,’ he admitted.
‘Which part?’ Mike asked, ‘the hiding from Hooch or getting knocked out cold by the gorilla?’
‘Not so much the lucky hit at the end...’
‘Lucky hit, whatever. He was all over you like a fat girl at Valentine’s.’
They all laughed, and Mike took a long draught, letting the coldness slide down and spread its good cheer. ‘I guess I better pack up my stuff then,’ he said, glancing over at the desk he’d been using. ‘Case closed, time to move on.’
Molly and Dan looked at each other.
‘I don’t think so, mate,’ Dan told him.
Mike’s eyebrows shot up. ‘This was a one-time deal, wasn’t it? Just to get this sorted out and my arse out of the sli
ng.’
‘Well yeah, sort of...’
‘With old Neil gone, we need a full time hand on deck,’ Molly interjected, ‘so are you up for it?’
Mike shrugged slightly and the Crowley’s faces fell. He grinned slowly and chuckled, then held his bottle out towards them. They clinked glasses.
‘What the hell,’ he said, ‘cheers!’
###
Honey Trap
Chase Investigations #2
Angus McLean
Copyright 2014 Angus McLean
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter One
At 11pm on a Friday, Tigers was pumping.
Nicknamed Cougars, it was the place to be for the more mature woman looking for a younger man. It rocked to a ‘80’s soundtrack and had a dance floor big enough to cater for the large groups of women on the prowl. Some might call it a meat market; to others, it was a home away from home every Friday and Saturday.
Kerry Standen had found a receipt from Tigers in her fiance’s jacket pocket for a weekend when he was supposed to have been out of town for work. He was an IT consultant for a national firm, and often travelled. The receipt made Kerry suspicious, and with a wedding planned for the summer, she wanted to make sure it was all on track.
She had asked Ben about it, and when he explained that he had picked it up off a table at Starbucks to write himself a note, it seemed plausible. In fact, on the back was a single word scribbled; flowers. Remembering the bunch of roses he had given her the Monday after the weekend concerned, it all made sense.
