Bite Me (Devlin Haskell 3) (4 page)

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?”

“H
i, 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 sus
pects, yet.”

“But they’re working on that profile, right? Farrell said you were involve
d 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 though
t 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 ju
st 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.”

“D
o 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?

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.

“Yes, Mister Haskell, Detect
ive Norris Manning. It’s eleven-forty-five, please give me a call at your earliest convenience. Today.”

I put some coffee on, showered, shaved,
brought in yesterday’s mail, ate a couple of slices of cold pizza for breakfast, plucked some nose hair, then called Manning and left a message.

“Devlin Haskell, retu
rning your call. I’m in meetings most of the day, but please call back, hopefully we can connect.”

I filled a travel
mug with coffee, then drifted out the door in the direction of my office. I poked my head in The Spot, just to check for messages and then crossed the street to my office. I had just put my feet up on the desk when my cell phone rang.

“Haskell Investigations.”

“Did I catch you between meetings?”

“Detective Manning, you did as a matter of fact. How can I help you?”

“Sorry if my initial call got you out of bed,” he didn’t seem to be kidding.

“Like I said, I’ve been in meetings all day.”

“Sure you have. Listen, I wonder if you wouldn’t mind stopping by. We’ve got a couple of questions for you, possibly some new ground we might like to cover.”

“Oh?
” I sat up interested.

“Just routine.”

“Name a time,” I said, leering out the window at a nice looking mommy in tight little yellow shorts, pushing a stroller across the street.

“I thought you had meetings?” he said.

“Things are moving along a lot faster than I thought. I could actually wind this up in, oh I don’t know, maybe the next thirty or forty-five minutes.”

“Sure, you can, that’s great,” he said, sounding like he didn’t mean a word of it.

“See you in an hour?” I asked.

“You know w
here we are?” he said.

“Yeah, been there once or twice before, see you in an hour.”

I strolled over to The Spot, figured a quick beer couldn’t hurt, stayed for two, before I drove down to Manning’s office at police headquarters. I cooled my heels in the lobby until someone came down to get me.

W
ayneta Van Haug, pronounced Juanita, was decidedly overweight, always crabby and unfortunately named. She was a uniformed officer, and one immediately wondered where you purchased uniforms that large. She had not a drop of Hispanic heritage. She did however have four older brothers, Wayne, du Wayne, de Wayne, da Wayne. Her ill advised parents attempted to maintain the family tradition when their darling daughter was born and so named her Wayneta. We all make mistakes.

“I know you from some
where’s” she said, once we were in the elevator.

We were ascending six floors. The elevator creaked and shuddered
and I was genuinely concerned I might not make it with Wayneta on board. I clung tightly to the hand rail on the back wall and focused on the digital floor readout as we groaned our way up to six.

“Where’d we meet? You been haule
d in here before?” she asked, and leaned intimidatingly closer.

I
continued to focus on the digital readout over the door. Third floor seemed to be taking its own sweet time.

“I’ve been in a few times. I’m a private investigator, I’v
e worked with Detective Manning before. Worked with Lieutenant Aaron LaZelle, over in vice, a few times, maybe you know him. We probably met that way, or maybe you just saw me or heard about me from those guys. Nice to see you again,” I said, thinking I couldn’t possibly forget ever meeting her.

She
half scoffed under her breath.

“He told me, just to bring you up here, don’t know why he didn’t want to put you in an
interrogation room,” she said staring at me.

We were coming up on five, not fast enough for my taste.

“Just some general background information, I witnessed something the other day, thought I might be able to help Manning with his ongoing investigation.”

That got me another scoff. Mercifully six finally blinked on. We seemed to just hold there for an ungodly length of time. I was sure the computer was busy calculating how many seconds remained before the elevator cable snapped and we dropped to the basem
ent. Eventually the doors groaned open.

“Six,” Wayneta said and stepped off into the hallway. The elevator rose an inch or two and I quickly
jumped off behind her.

“He’s in there,” she said pointing to a door labeled Homicide. Then turned and w
addled toward where the donuts were kept.

I quickly headed for the safety of Homicide, knocked and stepped into a small lobby with a receptionist
’s window. A guy in plain clothes was walking past the window and glanced out at me.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, Devlin Haskell, to see Detective Manning.”

“He expecting you?”

“He is.”

“Hey Man Eater, some guy named
Haskell to see you.” He called then walked away.

Manning suddenly appeared at
the window.

“Haskell, thanks for coming down, come on in,” he said then buzzed
something that opened the security door next to the receptionist window and I walked in.

Manning’s
battleship grey cubicle was devoid of any personality, not so much as the photograph of a dog. It did look neat, orderly and gave the sense of a highly efficient individual in residence.

“Grab that chair there, will you,” he indicated a
chrome and grey fabric chair next to a black, two drawer file cabinet.

I sat, looked around quickly, not that there was anything to see.

“You want some coffee?” he asked, blue eyes fixed on me, he raised a paper coffee cup from a vending machine to his lips, slurped, grimaced then waited.

“No thanks, I’ve
had stuff from your machine before.”

“Can’t say that
I blame you,” he said then slurped again.

I hadn’t done anything wrong, at least in regard to the KRAZ shooting, but I was still on guard.

Manning set his coffee cup on the desk area behind him, picked up a thin file, flicked through a couple of pages, then read for what seemed a long moment before he looked up. While he read I examined the top of his bald head. It was decidedly pink, as if it had been somehow contaminated by his fringe of red hair. I figured him for one of those redheads who never tan, but just burn to varying degrees.

“Look, let me level with you, th
e K-R-A-Z deal, it isn’t adding up.”

“Not adding up?” I wasn’t following.

“Here’s the deal, you were there, you seem to have some limited experience, so that’s why I wanted to chat.”

I nodded.

“It’s a drive by, theoretically. No one’s hit, that’s good. No impact site located from the shots that were supposedly fired, that’s not so good. Depending on which statement we’re dealing with, some say two some say three shots fired. You say two, along with a couple of others. I’ve got a couple of the news guys who swear three shots. Not unusual. Really doesn’t matter and no way we can seem to confirm or deny, at least at this point.” He picked up his coffee and slurped some more, then sat back waiting for my reply.

“If it’s a drive by, I mean this wasn’t gang bangers sticking a MAC 10 out the window and spraying someone’s front porch. This was two, I think, two definite shots fired, no more than a second apart, from a moving vehicle. It seems logical the shooter might have missed,” I said.

Manning nodded in agreement.

“What do the cameras have? There were news crews there, they must have filmed the thing. They got it all on film right? Audio?”

“Wrong. Two cameras, plus a recorder from
the reporter woman…”

“Tiffany
what’s her name.”

“Kinny. Tiffany Kinny
, Channel Nine. They were all turned off, somewhere between rambling from the Bill of Rights, through the Declaration of Independence to Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address they turned off the cameras. Your girlfriend Tiffany switched off her recorder. Save on batteries, I guess. Anyway, all we’ve got is that pudgy little guy…”

“Thompson Barkwell.”

“That’s him, got him going on and on.”

“Tell me about it,
” I groaned.

“The next thing we see is your pal Farrel
l huddled on the ground on top of Barkwell.”

“Yeah, you know in defense of him, Barkwell might have been huddling, but Farrell covered the guy. I mean, regardless of what you’re suggesting, all he knew is someone was s
hooting and he protected Barkwell. That takes some brass ones.”

“So you say.”

“Ever been shot at, Detective?”

Manning nodded
then went in a different direction.

“How long have you been working for K
-R-A-Z, craze?”

“Actually just a few days, they let me go yesterday as a matter of fact.”

“Let you go?”

“Yeah, said they had things in hand, send them an invoice, that sort of deal. I was gonna drop it off, the invoice, after this. Got it out in my car if you want to see it?”

“Can you just email me a copy?”

“Yeah, I think so,” figuring I could get Sunn
ie Einer, my computer gal to show me how.

“Why’d they let you go?
You’d figure after someone took a couple of shots at them they’d want protection, such as it is,” he looked me up and down. “You have an argument or anything?”

“Argument? Why would you think that?” regretting the question before it had left my lips.

“Nothing really, just seemed you got a bit, oh I don’t know, exercised maybe. When we were all up in the office the other afternoon and Barkwell asked you about security, remember?”

“Well, I think I said something like I knew about the press conference fifteen seconds before it happened. That’s a literal time frame by the way, not just some figure of speech. We’re walking down the damn staircase on the way to the thing, he tells me about it just before we walked through the door
and suddenly we’re standing in front of reporters and cameras.”

“
Would you have done anything differently?”

“Probably not, I mean if you had to hold the damn thing outside, to be honest that was as good a place as any.
Would have been better in an enclosed area, but I get it. It’s just that the whole thing was a surprise they had to know it was going to happen an hour, two hours, maybe the day before. Never bothered to tell me and then it’s my fault? Christ, kiss my butt.”

“No thanks.
” Manning might have actually smiled.

“Like I said, other than getting paid, I’m out of it.”

Manning nodded.

“Any women work there?”

“Women?”

“Yeah,
you know, nice looking, perfume, don’t want to associate with guys like you. Any women work there?”

I let his comment go.

“No, at least as far as I know. Obviously, I haven’t been around there all that much. You were up there, the office is small to begin with, national headquarters or not. They’ve got junk piled everywhere. I’ve only see the two of them there, Thompson Barkwell and Farrell J. Earley, no other employees, male or female as far as I know. Tell you the truth I think they’re running on a shoestring. My impression is they don’t have the funds to pay anyone, at least not much.”

“You worried about getting paid?” he was flipping through
a couple of pages from the file on his lap, pretending to read. I was sure he was listening for any telltale sign.

“Yeah
somewhat. Barkwell told me they have to run my invoice past some committee or board or some damn thing, get the thing approved before they can pay it.”

“And that worries you?”

“Not as far as actually getting paid, it’s just that he said the committee meets in almost five weeks. Do the math, five weeks before they meet. Then get the run around for another week before the check’s cut, another week before it’s in the mail. It’s two damn months before I’m paid.”

“We talking a lot?”

“Not really, it’s just the principle of the thing.”

“That’s what springs to mind when I think of you,
Haskell, principle.”

I ignored his comment.

“They’re just jacking me around, and any other guy stupid enough to deal with them, comes with the territory, I guess.”

“You remember who made the 911 call?”

“No. Tell you the truth, I was watching the car drive off, not that it did any good.”

“It was a woman’s voice,” Manning was back to flipping pages, looking disinterested.

“Well to be honest, there wasn’t much of a crowd, hell, there wasn’t a crowd. I mean, Barkwell, Farrell J., that Tiffany chick, some other guy, two cameramen. That was it. Well and me, six, seven total. There wasn’t a crowd the whole thing was staged for the news cameras.”

Manning nodded.

“Tiffany was on a phone when we first came out of the building, in fact she asked Barkwell to repeat himself because she sort of missed whatever he said initially. She the one who called 911?”

“Nope,” Manning shook his head.
“Fact is, the call came from about two blocks away. We triangulated the towers, call came from a disposable phone, false records plus thirty five dollars cash and you’re good to go. It’s a dead end.”

“
That’s strange.”

“
You think? The whole deal is strange. Look, thanks for your time,” Manning said getting to his feet, then held out his hand.

His hand
was like shaking a brick, no give when I squeezed.

“Can you find your way out?
If not I could always get officer Van Haug to escort you back down.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I said and made my way to the door.

“Mister Haskell, good luck with your invoice, you’ll email a copy, right?”

“Thanks, I will,” I said and left.