Last Shot (Dev Haskell - Private Investigator, Book 6) (24 page)

Chapter Forty-Five

“
I don’t like it,
” Louie said. He had his feet up on the church basement tables he’d found somewhere and brought in for my desk. My feet were up on the window sill. Lydell looked to be dozing in the corner.

“The car
? Yeah. I know, I’m getting a lot of strange looks and it’s a bit of a gas hog, but that’s still cheaper than renting or buying some bomb.”

“I meant your lady friend
firing that jackass.”

“
Oh, Pauley…you can’t blame her for firing the guy.”

“I get that part. I jus
t don’t like the fact that he now has twenty-four hours a day free to come after you. His last visit worked out so well for us,” he said then jiggled his chins in the general direction of the plywood still over the front window.

“Except that
, don’t you think he would have tried something else by now?” I said.

“Possibly,
” Louie said. “But does he know you’re even doing anything? I don’t know, maybe he thinks he scared you off. As a matter of fact, are you? I mean, doing anything?”

“I’m reviewing facts and shit.”

“In other words, no, you’re not doing a thing.”

“Things are momentarily
, sort of at a standstill and I’m not exactly sure what to do to be honest. Which reminds me, I’d better get in touch with Marsha. She’s supposedly getting a work review by none other than Gaston the slime ball, tomorrow.”

“A review?” Louie said then seemed to stare off into space.

“That’s his term. She thinks he’ll try and ply her with drinks over lunch and then get a hotel room.”

“That actually works?”

“Not with her.”

Chapter Forty-Six

Either all was forgiven
or he’d forgotten he’d kicked me out for a month. It didn’t matter. Benny the bouncer took a quick glace at my ID and motioned me inside Nasty’s. Marsha was dancing tonight and I figured it might be the only time I could talk with her before she went to lunch with Gaston. She hadn’t bothered to answer any of the phone calls or text messages I’d left for her over the course of the day.

I couldn’t spot her working the room
, so I ordered a beer that turned out to be both warm and flat then grabbed a back table. Marsha, aka Brandi, came on stage about thirty minutes later with her hobby horse, wearing a pair of leather chaps and a cowboy hat. She danced to three songs, then gathered up her tips and exited the stage. As I looked around I had the distinct feeling the crowd seemed older than the last time I was in here. A lot of salt and pepper hair wearing loosened ties and unbuttoned starched collars mixed in with the baseball cap and T-shirt crowd.

Marsha appeared
a few minutes later. I was attempting to wave her over just as applause and ear splitting whistles erupted throughout the place.

“And
now for your viewing pleasure, the infamous Cougar,
growl
,” the announcer screamed over the sound system as the old Pat Benatar tune
Treat Me Right
blared out.

“Dev, oh my G
od, what are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,
Marsha, Sit down for a second so we can talk. You get any of my phone messages?”

“Yeah
, but…look you’re going to have to slip me a twenty if you want to talk,” she shouted over the cat calls directed toward the stage then glanced around nervously.

“What
?”

“House rules, Dev. Otherwise they can ban me. T
hey’ll think I’m giving freebies.”

“Okay,
okay.” I pulled a twenty out and set it on the table.

She picked it up in one quick practiced motion and stuffed it into the side of her thong. “Than
ks,” she said and sat down. “Is…ahhh, Lydell with you?” she asked, looking around and sounding hopeful.

“No
, sorry, just little old boring me.”

“So
, what’d you want to talk about?”

“Well
, your meeting with Gaston tomorrow, for starters. I want to be there.”

“Be there
?”

“Just wa
tching your back. Me and Lydell.”

She nodded
and smiled like Lydell’s presence would suddenly make it acceptable. “Okay, but how do you plan on doing that?”

“He’s taking you to a restaurant?”

“I think so.”

“We’ll just be
sitting at a nearby table. Simple.”

She said something, but the sudden applause and cheering drowned her out.

“What?”

“God,
” she groaned. “It’s that damn Cougar. She’s the one who wants us to pray once we’re finished for the night. She’s an absolute nut case, driving all of us crazy. Remember? I told you about her?”

“Sort of
. She seems to pack them in, that’s for sure.” More than one idiot was on his feet giving Cougar a standing ovation as she exited the stage. “Look, you’ll have to tell me where Driscoll’s taking you for lunch.”

“That’s just it, I have no idea
.”

“So we’ll be near your office. F
ind out and call me, or when you get to the restaurant or hotel run to the ladies room and call me from there.”

“You can’t follow us?”

“I’m driving sort of a conspicuous vehicle,” I said. “Look, maybe if…”

“Well
, Dev Haskell, must be your lucky day, Sweetie. Here to see about another three-way?”

A
cloud of cheap perfume seemed to descend on us like mustard gas. She was close enough that her see-thru leopard skin nightie brushed my cheek as she twirled in front of our table. I was afraid I may have contracted some hideous social disease when it brushed across my face. I knew her from another time when she had been just plain old despicable, Swindle Lawless. But tonight she was ‘Cougar’, the star attraction at Nasty’s.

“You…you…
you actually know her? You know Cougar?” Marsha looked shocked.

Cougar grinned
. “Me and old Dev had a three-way one night ‘Member, Dev? With that little girlfriend of yours? What the hell was her name? Holly, Helen?”

“Heidi,” I said. “A
nd if you’ll recall, nothing happened. You were intoxicated, so drunk you passed out as a matter of fact, and you simply needed a safe place to spend the night.”

“Yeah, so you say, Bad Boy. B
ut, you know, the three of us in bed. Well…”

“Believe me nothing happened
, Swindle or Cougar, or whatever it is you’re going by nowadays. Marsha, it was just a case I was involved in some time ago,” I said, ignoring the interruption and trying to save the moment.

“It’s Brandi
, and I gotta move to the next table,” Marsha said, standing and stalking off.

“Hmm-mmm
, guess she’s not too eager when it comes to sharing. Least not yet,” Cougar cackled. “Good seeing you, Dev, but it’s gonna cost you twenty to have me sit down. Sorry. Course on the other hand, you already know I’m worth it,” she said and cackled again.

“Tell you what
, Swindle. Maybe you’d better attend to all your fans.” I indicated a number of intoxicated and formerly distinguished gentlemen waving twenty-dollar bills in her direction.

“
Your loss, Hassel baby. But don’t you worry, Honey, you always got a rain check just for old time’s sake,” she said, then winked like she meant it, turned, took two steps and sat down at the nearest table.

Chapter Forty-Seven

We were parked around
the block from Gaston Enterprises ignoring the stares from curious passers-by when we weren’t out plugging the meter. If they didn’t walk past pointing and laughing, people literally stopped and stared at the flame-decorated vinyl roof and the gold crucifix emblazoned across the trunk. We’d been sitting there for the past three-and-a-half hours, accomplishing absolutely nothing.

“I don’t know, D
ude, it’s after two-thirty. We wait much longer and he’ll have to buy her dinner instead of lunch,” Lydell said.

“God damn it.”

“Think maybe she stiffed you, just blew you off? You said she was pretty pissed off last night. You know how they can get.”

“It’s entirely possible
. Not the first time some woman vowed never to speak to me again. I just hope she didn’t think she could handle this creep by herself. I’m thinking if he’s on to her and he’s got Pauley and those other two thugs involved…well, there’s no telling what they might do.”

“And you called their office?”

“Lydell, you were right here next to me when I phoned. They said Driscoll was in meetings all afternoon and couldn’t be disturbed. Not like I can really leave my name and number.”

“Maybe they’re
going at it in his office right now. You know, all torched up and...”

I looked over at him
, but didn’t say anything.

“Only
saying, man.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about her.”

“Maybe give her a call?” Lydell said.

“I’ve sent her four text messages already. You know
many women who ignore one text message, let alone four?”

“Mmm-h
mm.”

A little after thr
ee, I pulled away from the curb and drove back to my office where we sat and continued to accomplish absolutely nothing. While Lydell sent a text to Annie, I phoned Gaston Enterprises but I didn’t ask for Gaston Driscoll.

“Marsha Norling, please.”

“Just one moment, I’ll connect you.”

Maybe I’d been worried for no reason.
All this time sweating it out and she had just been pulling a bad attitude. It figured. Lydell and I wasted the better part of the day worried about her and she’s been in that damn office, probably flirting with that jerk, Gaston.

“Dawn Miller,”
a voice answered a moment later.

“I’m sorry, I was holding for Marsha Norling,” I said
, wondering what the H.R. witch was doing on the line. My mind was racing through a variety of scenarios, none of them very promising.

“Miss Norling is no longer with us. May I ask what this is in regard to?”
I could feel the ice coming across the line. I hung up the phone as the rest of the color drained out of my face.

“That
doesn’t look like it went any too well,” Lydell said.

“It was that wench fr
om their HR department. She said Marsha was no longer with them.”

“Like she
took the day off and went home?”

“No
, more like she didn’t work there anymore.”

“That doesn’t sound all that
promising, man.”

I couldn’t disagree. I also couldn’t think of what to do next. We sort of tossed some ideas back and forth. One of the bes
t was Lydell running to Fast Pizza for a couple of sandwiches. He wasn’t gone two minutes when my phone rang and it was Marsha’s number, thank God.

“It’s about time,
damn it. I’ve been worried sick. You okay?” I answered.

“I don’t know
, Sweetheart, you tell me,” a male voice I didn’t recognize said.

“Who’
s this?”

“Just a
charming guy who found this phone lying on the street. I’d like to return it to you. Maybe be out in front of your office in three minutes, sitting behind the wheel of that pimp-mobile with the flames on the roof you’ve been driving around town and we’ll pick you up.”

“Where’s Marsha?”

“Dude, pull your head out of your ass and listen up. Be outside your office in the next three minutes, sitting in that car. Got it?”

“I don’t think you…”

“That’s right, don’t think. Just get your sorry ass out there,” he shouted and hung up.

I phoned Lydel
l to get him back to the office. His phone rang at the far end of the table exactly where he’d left the damn thing. About all I had on hand for a weapon was a letter opener. I bounded down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk. I’d parked the Lincoln out on Randolph, virtually right in front of the door. I quickly ran through my options. I could be shot, stuffed in a trunk, the victim of a car bomb or maybe I could get to Marsha.

I sent a
quick text to Lydell so he’d know what was up while I sat behind the wheel with the air conditioner on. I’d barely finished hitting send when a black SUV screeched to a stop along the curb behind me and two very large guys jumped out. I cautiously stepped out of the Lincoln.

“Leave that piece of shit running and get you
r ass back here,” a shaved-headed idiot said. He was wearing a white T-shirt with red letters spelling
Budweiser
across the chest. He stood and held open the rear door of the SUV while the other guy wearing a black T-shirt walked toward my car. He gave me a cheap shot with his elbow as he passed, then started to climb in behind the wheel of the Lincoln.