Ting-A-Ling (26 page)

Chapter Fifty-Seven

“Okay, relax, will you?
Apology accepted. The flowers are beautiful, Dev, and thanks for bringing these bottles of Prosecco. Mmm-mmm, God, I just love Thai, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Heidi, I do. Hey, can I ask you a sort of business question?”

“Sure,” she said, then kind of partially turned her head and asked, “What’s up?”

“Just a general question. I’m trying to get a handle on a guy. If you were a real estate sort of developer kind of guy and you’d taken a pounding in the crash…”

“Virtually everyone did, Dev,” she said then filled her glass.

“Yeah, okay, so if you could choose any area of the country, any city, where would be the best place to go to for a fresh start?”

“That depends,” she said, holding her glass and watching as the bubbles rose to the top.

“Depends on?”

“Well, are you talking commercial or residential?”

“I’m pretty sure commercial.”

“Okay, commercial. Then it depends sort of on when. If you started or maybe we should say, restarted in 2007 or eight you might go to the usual places. L.A., maybe Seattle, Charleston, possibly outside D.C. somewhere, although D.C. would take really deep pockets right out of the starting gate. Another place, again we’re talking commercial would be Vegas, the housing end of things was bad, but commercial hung on. But, if you didn’t go right after the crash, maybe waited till 2010 or so, actually no romance, but North Dakota could be a big possibility.”

“I don’t think North Dakota would be the place.”

“Just depends, I guess. You’re not having any?” Heidi asked and held her glass out to be refilled.

“I’m pacing myself. Hey, I got one of your favorite desserts…”

“You are such a sweetie,” she said, then flared her eyes in my direction.

I think I was more dead than alive when I woke. Over the course of the evening I had become a fan of Prosecco, at least when Heidi drank the better part of two bottles and then turned her undivided attention toward me. She lay next to me, groaning out another one of her deep Prosecco snores. We’d used her Jacuzzi, the top of her dresser and from the looks of things a number of different angles in her bed. She laid beside me, crossways across the bed, wearing a very contented look and one high heeled, black, knee high boot. It was a little after four in the morning when I heard my cell phone ring.

Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling.

I was searching for my jeans. My cell was in the pocket. I followed the ringing noise and found my jeans right where Heidi tore them off out in the hallway.

As I answered I looked back in at Heidi. She was illuminated by the light coming from the scented candles still flickering in the bathroom. Her skin glowed almost iridescent in the soft light and contrasted beautifully with the recent jet black dye job on her hair. Her sleep seemed unfazed by my phone ringing.

“Hello.”

“Mmm-mmm, this wouldn’t happen to be Haskell Investigations, would it?” Danielle’s sexy voice asked.

I paused for a moment, then said, “No, sorry, you have the wrong number,” and hung up.

The End

Thanks for taking the time to read
Ting-A-Ling
. If you enjoyed Dev’s adventure please tell 2-300 of your closest friends. Then check out the free sample of
Crickett
just after the list of all my titles available on Amazon.

Baby Grand

Chow For Now

Slow, Slow, Quick, Quick

Merlot

Finders Keepers

End of the Line

The following titles comprise the Dev Haskell series;

Russian Roulette: Case 1

Mr. Swirlee: Case 2

(
originally released as Mr. Softee
)

Bite Me: Case 3

Bombshell: Case 4

Tutti Frutti: Case 5

Last Shot: Case 6

Ting-A-Ling: Case 7

Cricket: Case 8

Bulldog: Case 9

Twinkle Toes (A Dev Haskell short mystery)

Irish Dukes (Fight Card Series)

written under the pseudonym Jack Tunney

Visit
http://www.mikefaricy.com

Email;
[email protected]

Twitter; @mikefaricybooks

On Facebook; Mike Faricy Books
and
Dev Haskell.

Crickett is the 
EIGHTH
 mystery in the highly entertaining Dev Haskell Private Investigator mystery series. 

When the city's laziest Private Investigator Dev Haskell spots his old flame Karen Riley in The Spot bar, she's changed--for one thing she's no longer Karen Riley, now she's Crickett, and then there's the stroller with ten month old Oliver. Dev hangs on and does the math: ten months plus nine months equals when? 

It seems Crickett's sometime lover Daryl has been caught in possession of some drugs, and she thinks they may have been planted on him. But five million dollars worth? Tough to hide that much in your pocket. Dev starts looking under rocks and quickly uncovers local crime lord Tubby Gustafson and his psychopathic enforcer, Bulldog. Things seem to go downhill rather quickly from there as Dev finds himself literally running for his life. 

Crickett
 is a hilariously entertaining hard-boiled mystery, with just enough chills to keep you on the edge of your seat. A delightful read with a heavy dose of corner cutting and misbehavior to go with the beverage of your choice. Hope you enjoy the read.

Crickett

Mike Faricy

Chapter One

I dropped into The
Spot for only one, four hours ago. Just as I signaled Mike for another, I caught sight of her walking in the side door. Karen Riley hadn’t changed much in a year and a half. She did seem to bounce a little more enticingly as she came around the bar, of course that was before I saw the stroller with the baby. Two serious drinkers at the end of the bar had to move their stools so she could get past and they didn’t look too happy about the interruption.

On our last night out she was staggering after drinking two bottles of pink champagne, she slipped getting into my car. As her skirt rose up around her waist she looked over her shoulder at me, licked her lips then said, “Maybe you’d like to give a girl a hand?”

I was only too willing to lend a helping grope.

Amazingly, the ride home had been uneventful, but only because I was able to fend Karen off despite her protestations. Before we’d driven a block she’d slipped her skirt off and tossed it onto the spare tire in the back seat. More than once I had to physically keep her at bay as we raced toward her house.

“Just pull over and let’s do it, Dev. Come on,” she sighed then ripped her blouse open.

We were only four minutes away from her place. I figured I could hang on, but sped up all the same. She seemed to settle down as I screeched around the corner onto her street. I pulled to the curb in front of her place, jumped out then quickly walked around to open her door.

It had all the makings of a night to remember and I rubbed my hands in delicious anticipation. As I opened the passenger door her purse fell to the ground, followed by her gorgeous legs swinging invitingly onto the sidewalk in a very unlady-like pose. She looked up at me with a glassy stare, but I don’t think she saw me. Fortunately, at a little after three in the morning no one would be around to notice her thong attire. I stuffed a handful of items back into her purse then picked up a discarded red heel from the curb. Halfway along her stagger toward the front door she kicked the other shoe into the garden. She let her blouse fall to the ground just before the front steps. I stopped to retrieve it juggling her purse and the heels.

“It’s been real, later baby,” she slurred just as I heard the front door click open and she staggered inside. I clutched everything in my arms and hurried up the porch steps. I had five feet to go when she slammed the door closed behind her, stumbled into the middle of the living room then passed out on the floor.

I could see her through the front window, lying face down on the carpeted floor, wearing just her thong and a gold necklace, out cold. I rang the doorbell repeatedly. I pounded on the locked door then frantically searched around the porch for a nonexistent key. She remained dead to the world.

A clap of thunder brought me to my senses. I carried her shoes, purse and blouse back to my car. I tossed them on top of her skirt and the spare tire just as the rain began to pour down.

I don’t know, maybe it was karma, bad karma I guess. I was back over there the following afternoon shampooing her living room rug and not having much luck removing the pink champagne stain.

Pasty looking Karen didn’t seem to be in the best of moods stretched out on her living room couch. A blue terricloth robe was cinched tightly around her waist hiding any semblance of her figure and eliminating my hope of a ‘
thank you’
. She had an ice pack on her head, a box of Kleenex on her lap and occasionally sipped from a glass of 7-Up. When she spoke it was only to give me further rug cleaning directions or swear that she would never, ever drink pink champagne again.

I came back to reality as she forced the stroller around a table, flashed a smile in my direction then charged toward me pushing a wide-eyed little boy. The words
‘Paternity Suit’
suddenly screamed in my head. I wasn’t sure if it was the stroller with all the toys or the gigantic diaper bag that made her look like she was getting ready to set up a campsite.

“Well, well, well, Dev Haskell. I thought I might find you here,” she said then proceeded to hoist the diaper bag onto the bar.

I had to clear my throat a couple of times before I could find my voice. “Great to see you again, Karen,” I lied. “Who is this little guy?” I asked then gripped the edge of the bar and waited for the shotgun blast.

“This is our little Oliver, ten months. Oh, and just so you know, I’ve changed my name. Now I’m Crickett.”

I felt light headed as the color drained from my face. I was too stunned to do the math in my head, nine months plus ten months before that equals when?

“Oh, Jesus, Dev calm down. God, look at you, you’re pale as a ghost. Are you gonna be okay? It’s Daryl and me, he’s my boyfriend.”

I still wasn’t seeing anything funny in my honest mistake, but I faked it. “Well congratulations, Kar… I mean, Crickett. And aren’t you the handsome little devil,” I said looking down, actually he kind of was. I felt my heart slowing back down to normal. “What’s with the Crickett name change?”

“Oh, Karen was just, I don’t know, so proper, so churchy. Crickett is more me, more of my persona.”

‘Persona,’
I thought. “Can I get you something?”

Mike strolled up and studied her from across the bar.

“Gee, thanks, but I better not. Course on second thought, maybe just a double Bombay Safire martini and two olives,” she said all the while staring at Oliver. She shrugged her shoulders, shook her head back and forth and made a strange face at the baby.

“You want a bag of beer nuts or maybe some pork rinds for the little guy?” I asked.

“Ahhh, no I don’t think so and his name’s Oliver, Dev. If he gets hungry I’ll just feed him. Yes, Oliver you’re growing up to be a great big boy, aren’t you? Yes, yes mommy’s little moose.” She sort of squeaked out the word ‘moose’ and the serious drinkers who’d had to move their stools glanced down the bar.

We chatted for a bit. At least I tried to chat. Crickett was busy making faces at Oliver and sipping her martini. She drained the glass, pushed it across the bar signaling for another, then turned toward me and thrust her chest out to take control of the conversation.

“Daryl and I need your help. It’s kind of embarrassing, but I figured you’re used to it.”

“Being embarrassed?”

She nodded then said, “Yeah, you know the sort of situations you seem to get yourself into. Remember when you had that crazy woman who tried to kill you?”

“Which one, there’ve been more than a couple?”

She nodded like that sounded perfectly logical. “Well, of course I’d like to hear their side. Thanks,” she said to Mike as he slid another filled to the rim martini in front of her.

“So what happened?”

She took a deep breath, a healthy sip then said, “Daryl was arrested, and our attorney said he should try to make a deal, only he didn’t do anything.”

I nodded like this made sense. Actually, in my line of work it sort of did.

Crickett looked around, then leaned forward and half whispered. “He was arrested with some drugs in his possession. Only he didn’t know they were in his possession.”