Bulldog (Dev Haskell - Private Investigator Book 9) (3 page)

I heard the noise at almost the same time I saw the shadowy figure. The individual was kind of tall and looked fairly broad. I slowly approached holding the .38 out in front of me in a two-handed grip with the thing aimed at his head.

As I moved closer, the face came into focus and I actually recognized the idiot. The flattened nose, the Mohawk hairstyle, a half dozen piercings in each eyebrow and the three rings in his bottom lip left little doubt. Then, there was the gauging in his earlobes the size of a giant doughnut hole. I didn’t so much know him as I knew of him. Freddy Zimmerman, Fat Freddy, a wannabe criminal of dubious reputation. I was pretty sure he was a general disappointment to folks on both sides of the law.

Last I heard, Freddy had been trying to win favor with local crime boss Tubby Gustafson by following Tubby around in an attempt to offer
‘additional protection’
. That sort of went down the drain when Freddy rear ended Tubby’s Mercedes at a stoplight and Tubby’s morally impaired enforcer, a jerk named Bulldog, jumped out of the vehicle and made the adjustments that resulted in Freddy’s dinner plate nose. I was tempted to shoot, but it would be a waste of a bullet, and then there was the outside chance it would just bounce off his thick skull anyway.

Instead, I flicked on the porch light and watched as Freddy jumped then dropped whatever tool he was using in his worthless attempt to force the window open. He waddled off the back porch and out into the alley toward his car. The ‘sinister’ looking black Chevy Camaro Casey had described.

Freddy had cleverly left the car almost directly under the alley light. It appeared to be running with the headlights still on. I watched as he beat his hasty retreat out the back gate, past the trash bins and into the alley.

I walked out the front door, climbed into my Saturn and prayed it would start. I drove up the block and rounded the corner as Fat Freddy peeled out of the alley and took off. I followed Freddy at a distance although I had a pretty good idea where he was headed. Along the way I wondered where a numbskull like Freddy got the sort of cash it would take to purchase that Camaro, provided it was indeed purchased and not ‘obtained’.

Sure enough, about five minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of a dive bar named Ozzie’s. I waited about thirty seconds and pulled in after him. I sat in the Saturn for a few minutes then went in the back door and spotted him alone at the bar. It wasn’t that surprising, who’d want to spend time with Freddy? He was a moron and besides, there were just two other drinkers in the place. They were nursing beers, appeared to be regulars and didn’t look up when I walked in giving the distinct impression they would like to just be left alone.

Freddy looked like his usual idiot self. He glanced in my direction and then attempted to hide his face as I came through the back door. His back was to me and he seemed to be studying the front door, maybe calculating if he could waddle out that way and make it to his Camaro before I caught up with him.

The bartender slid a bottle of beer in front of him and then stood there waiting for payment. Eventually he raised both hands, palms up and sort of wiggled his fingers in a
‘Come on, man, pay up’
motion.

“I’ll get it, and give me a pint of Mankato Ale,” I said then tossed a ten on the bar. The bartender grabbed the ten and nodded, then gave Freddy a strange look. He was back with my beer a minute later. I tossed a five on the bar and he looked at me. “Keep it, I’d like to be private with this gentleman for a moment.”

“Suit yourself,” he said sounding like I’d made a really bad choice, then rapped the bar a couple of times with his knuckles to acknowledge the tip before he moved to the far end.

Freddy grabbed his beer and took a healthy sip keeping his back to me.

I stuck my little finger in his ear gauge and pulled.

“Ouch, hey what the…God you’re killing me, stop it, stop it, dude. Christ, you’re gonna rip my ear, bitch.”

“Then look at me, Freddy. Where the hell are your manners? How have you been?” I said and pulled my finger out of his ear. His voice had a nasally tone which I guessed came from the nose adjustment Bulldog had given him after rear ending Tubby Gustafson’s Mercedes.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said rubbing his ear lobe and shaking his head. “You’re that dick guy, right?”

“Private Investigator,” I corrected.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant, man. Ahhh, thanks for the beer.”

“Not a problem, Freddy. So tell me, what have you been up to?”

“Up to? Me? Nothing really.”

“Gee, that’s funny. See, I was just taking it easy over at a friend’s house and all of sudden I hear a noise. Guess what?”

Freddy looked nervous, reached for the beer bottle and drained about half the thing.

“Come on, Freddy, take a guess.”

“I ain’t got any idea, Mr. Hassle, honest.”

“It’s Haskell, fuckwit. So, guess who I saw trying to get into my friend’s house? Guess who was trying to break in?”

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to break in. He just wanted me to see if there was a way to get in there, that’s all. I….” All of a sudden he shut up as if it dawned on him he’d already said too much.

“Trying to find a way in? Into
my
friend’s house? For who?” I asked then pulled the .38 out of my pocket and shoved it in my waistband making sure Freddy could see my every move.

“I probably shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t really mean it,” he said, sounding even more nervous.

“Hmmm-mmm, does that mean
you
were going to break into
my
friend’s house?”

“No, no honest.”

“That’s good. I didn’t think you’d do that, Freddy. At least I hope you wouldn’t, because that would make me very mad and I’m sure neither one of us would want that, would we?”

“No, you’re right, that wouldn’t be good.”

“Yeah, right, so who were you checking things out for? Who’s trying to get into
my
friend’s house?”

“I really can’t say.”

“Yeah you can, Freddy. You can tell me, after all we’re pals. Look, I even bought you a beer.”

“Yeah, I know, I already said thanks and all, but I really can’t tell you.”

“Sure you can, Freddy, well unless you want to see that fancy car of yours out there in the lot maybe get torched and then after I set it on fire, I’m gonna come back in here and look for you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, and I won’t be happy, because you’re playing me for a sucker and that makes me mad, Freddy. It really does.”

“I’m not playing you for a sucker, Mr. Haskell, honest. It’s just that he can be kind of mean and all and…”

I stuck my little finger back into Freddy’s ear gauge and pulled.

“Ahhh-hhhh, God don’t, come on that really hurts. Don’t ahhh-hhhh.”

“You got about three seconds to tell me, Freddy, or I’m going to rip this thing right out of your ear.”

For just a brief moment the bartender looked over from where he was sitting at the far end of the bar watching the ball game, then he went back to watching the TV.

“Three, two…”

“I can’t, I can’t tell you they’ll…”

“One,” I half yelled and yanked the gauge out of Freddy’s ear.

“Ahhh-hhhh,” he screamed loud enough that one of the regulars looked down our way and the bartender stood up off his stool and said, “Take it outside, fellas,” in a loud voice.

I grabbed Freddy by the back of the neck and moved him toward the front door.

Freddy had a bloodied hand over his ear and was screaming, “You maniac, are you fucking crazy? God, you tore my damn ear off, what in the hell is wrong with you? Jesus, that hurts.”

“Listen to me, you fat assed idiot, I’m gonna tear that gauge off your other ear, give you a matching pair unless you tell me what you were doing trying to get into that house tonight. You think I’m fooling? So help me God you better start talking or I will tear you apart.”

“I already told you, I can’t, he’ll kill me.”

“That’s exactly what I plan on doing,” I said and reached for his other ear.

Freddy pushed me away and started to run for his car. I sort of half jogged and caught up then dropped a foot or two behind while he kept waddling, trying to fish his keys out to unlock the car door. The lights on his Camaro blinked a moment later as he scurried toward the driver’s door. He pulled the door open and just as his fat ass was halfway in the car I slammed into the door full force.

It banged against Freddy and he gave a high-pitched yelp then staggered back a step or two. There was a vertical crease along the outside of the door where I slammed into it. I grabbed him by his Mohawk and bounced his head against the doorframe a couple of times. He stumbled back and started to slide down the side of the car. I lifted him with an uppercut to the chin and heard his teeth clack, then drilled him in what was left of his nose.

“Okay, okay, stop it, God. It was Bulldog, Tubby’s guy. Okay, you happy? Jesus, lay off, bitch, I didn’t do anything to you. God!”

“Bulldog?”

Freddy was bending over at the waist leaning against the Camaro with his hands on his knees. Blood from his nose and mouth was dripping down into a puddle on the asphalt parking lot. Blood from his ear had soaked a good portion of his shoulder and the front of his shirt. He stared at the ground and didn’t look up at me when he spoke.

“Yeah, Bulldog. He didn’t tell me why, honest he didn’t. He just said he wanted to get into the house, that the folks were moving and he was thinking of buying it back. Wanted to see what they’d done before he came up with a number.”

“Buy it back?”

“Yeah, that’s what he said, honest,” Freddy gasped.

“Why didn’t he just call? That doesn’t make any sense,” I half said to myself, but Freddy heard me.

“I don’t know, man. It’s Bulldog, it’s not supposed to make sense. He just told me to go there and find a way in. He said no one was living there. If I knew your friend was there I wouldn’t have tried the window, really, I wouldn’t lie to you. I promise I wouldn’t,” Freddy said then coughed and spit more blood a couple of times onto the asphalt.

Chapter Seven

I was lying awake
on the couch at Casey’s wondering why Bulldog wanted to get into this place. It’s not like there was anything to really steal, maybe the flat screen, but a jerk like Bulldog would have access to an entire truckload just by making a phone call. Dermot’s laptop was three or four years old and besides, I didn’t think Bulldog knew the alphabet. Then there was the bit that he, Bulldog was a previous owner. Knowing Dermot and Casey, they would have run the other way rather than deal with someone like him. I double checked to make sure the .38 was on the coffee table then promised myself I’d call Casey in the morning and drifted off to sleep.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” Casey called and set down a couple of bags and a tray holding four coffees.

I sort of groaned then rolled over and sat up. My shoulders, neck and back made audible cracking sounds as I twisted left and right, then I burped.

“Charming. God, you slob, how could you trash this place all by yourself in just one night?” she asked then placed my ice cream dish in the bowl full of chicken wing bones. She stacked the empty dip container on top and picked it all up along with the cracker box. “I’ll come back and get all the beer bottles and I better bring the vacuum, you’ve got crumbs all over. There are toothbrushes in the top drawer to the right of the bathroom sink. Might be a good idea, then come on back, if I remember correctly you like caramel rolls for breakfast.”

“I like anything I don’t have to cook,” I said. Then picked up the .38 as discreetly as possible and slipped it into my pocket.

We were sitting in the den. Two plumbers were banging pipes out in the front room doing something to the radiator. I was almost finished with my second coffee and eyeing the third. Casey was about halfway through her first and still nibbling at the same caramel roll she’d started on twenty minutes earlier. She was doing the female thing; taking the smallest of bites, barely a morsel, eating that and then waiting. I’d already inhaled both my caramel rolls and was picking up errant crumbs from off the coffee table. I eyed the rest of her’s and decided to play rough.

“God, I guess I should have gotten more,” she said watching me lick my finger tips.

“Nah, this was great. Really hits the spot. I have to say, Casey, you look really great, have you lost a little weight?”

“Probably just the stress.”

“Well, you look like you’ve been working out, you look fantastic.”

“Thanks, Dev, that’s sweet,” she said then pushed her plate to the center of the coffee table. “Go ahead and finish that if you want, I’m really not that hungry.”

“Nah, I couldn’t. You sure, I mean you barely touched it?”

“Please, take it otherwise it will just go to waste.”

“Okay, I guess if you really don’t want it,” I said moving the plate over into my domain.

“No really, I’m full.”

“Hey, mind if I ask you something?” I said then took a bite that cut her caramel roll in half.