Alley Katz (Dev Haskell - Private Investigator Book 27)

by Mike Faricy

  “They liked them?”

  “Seemed to. At least they didn’t say they disliked them. They want me to do a painting and submit it for review.”

  “Can you use one of those paintings out there?”

  “No, and I wouldn’t want to anyway. I’ve got an idea for one, but I wanted to run it past you.”

  “Yeah, sure. Let me warn you. Art critique is not my strong suit, not that it ever stopped me. What’d you have in mind?”

  “I’d like to do a portrait.”

  “Okay, that sounds good. Who are you thinking of?”

  “I was thinking of you, Dev.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. Think you’d be up for it?”

  “Well, umm, I mean that’s really nice of you, Taylor. Don’t get me wrong. I’m honored, but wouldn’t someone else be better? Annette’s gorgeous. What about that woman tattoo artist at Inkredible? She was attractive.”

  He shook his head and said, “No, Dev. I want to do you.”

  “Well, thank you, I’m honored. That’s really kind of you. But for starters, this nose and my black eyes, I mean who would want to—”

  “That’s a big part of what I want to capture, Dev. Almost all portraits are of people in the best of clothes. They’ve shaved, their hair is done. They’re wearing fancy jewelry. You’re more like a street guy. The kind of person who would never have a portrait of himself. I think you would be perfect.”

  “Mmm-mmm, I don’t know, Taylor.”

  “No offense, Dev. But you’re right. You don’t know. I have to submit a painting. I don’t want it to be like the hundred other paintings they get, a vase of flowers, a pretty woman, some rich guy in a suit. I want it to be memorable, unique. You with that nose and the black eyes, you’d be perfect.”

  “You’re really serious?”

  “You bet I am. We could start tomorrow. I’ll adjust to whatever fits your schedule. Annette said we can use her studio. She’s already gone out and got the canvas. She’s got a few hundred tubes of oil paint and a ton of brushes out there.”

  “Okay, I guess you talked me into it. How can I refuse?”

  “Oh, thanks, man. That’s just great. I really appreciate it.”

  “I’m honored that you want to do this.”

  “Everything okay in here?” Annette asked. She stood in the doorway, holding two glasses of wine.

  “Yeah, Dev agreed to the portrait,” Taylor said.

  “Oh, so you both knew?” I said and gave Annette the evil eye.

  She grinned. “I think it’s a wonderful idea, Dev. Taylor had a good point, it will really stand out. I’ve seen the submissions over the past few years. They’re all excellent work but of a type. Lovely landscapes, models, parents. A painting of you in your current state would really stand out.”

  “Maybe I should call and thank the person who did this.”

  “Yeah, who was that, by the way?” Annette asked and took a sip of wine.

  “Oh please, I’d just as soon not go there. Okay, I’d like to propose a toast to this soon to be magnificent work of art. I’ll take two copies, dartboard size,” I said and raised my wine glass.

  Everyone laughed, and we headed into the kitchen for dinner. Annette gave me a peck on the cheek and whispered, “Congratulations. Wanting to do a portrait of you is very high praise from Taylor.”

  Chapter 40

  Taylor and I were due out at Annette’s at 9:00. I was up before the alarm went off. After my shower, I pulled a clean shirt and a pair of jeans from the closet. I only had one clean t-shirt, but since I was wearing a shirt, it would be okay. I woke Taylor up at a quarter to eight and had breakfast dished up by the time he came downstairs. We pulled into Annette’s driveway promptly at nine.

  I stopped for a mug of coffee in her kitchen, and we headed out to the studio. The blank canvas was on the easel, and all sorts of paint tubes were laid out on the table next to the easel. Taylor pulled a drawer open and set his laptop inside.

  “I’ve got to meet with someone this morning. Anything you two need before I leave?” Annette asked.

  “I’m good,” I said.

  “Thanks for laying everything out, Annette,” Taylor said.

  “My pleasure. More paints in the drawers and over on the workbench. Help yourself to whatever you need. Dev, I’ll leave the coffee on in the kitchen. Help yourself,” she said and left.

  “What should I do, just stand here?” I asked.

  Taylor shook his head and said, “No, I want you to sit in this chair.” He pulled over a wooden chair that looked to be about a hundred years old. The chair was oak with a pressed back and had probably been a dining chair originally.

  He positioned the chair just below the glass panels in the roof and said, “I want you to sit backward in the chair and just looked relaxed.” He stepped back and looked at me. “Maybe take off that shirt before you sit down.”

  “You sure? The t-shirt I have on isn’t exactly what—”

  “It will be perfect, Dev. Whatever it is.”

  “Okay,” I said and unbuttoned my shirt. I pulled the shirt off, walked over, and set it in the light booth. I sat down on the chair, rested my forearms on the pressed oak back, and leaned forward.

  “Oh, that’s great, Dev,” Taylor said, admiring my t-shirt emblazoned with the line ‘I pee in pools.’

  “I think it would probably be better if I wore my shirt. Don’t you?”

  “Are you kidding? This is perfect, definitely setting you apart from all the usual stuff.”

  “You sure, Taylor. I can—”

  My phone rang. The call came across as an unknown number. I took the call anyway. “Haskell Investigations.”

  “Quit trying to sound important, Haskell.”

  “Who’s this?”

  “It’s me, Lyle. Tub— er Mr. Gustafson told me to call you. Said you needed a description of my car.”

  “Yeah, I’m going to try to get a BOLO out there on it. That means Be On The—”

  “I know what the hell a BOLO is, dumb shit.”

  “Mmm-mm could have had me fooled. So what’s the make and model?”

  “It’s a red 2012 Chevy Chevelle SS sitting on staggered Forgiato Veccio 22’s. It’s got a chrome breather sticking out of the hood.”

  “Would you care to translate?” I asked.

  “I knew you wouldn’t get it. The model is a Chevrolet Chevelle SS,” he said very slowly so I would understand. The tires, there’s four of them, Haskell, and they’re round. The chrome rims are Forgiato Veccio 22’s. There’s a chrome breather on the hood that makes the engine sound like a beast and a double white racing stripe, each one six inches wide that runs from the front of the hood to the windshield and from the rear window to the edge of the trunk.”

  “Sounds delightful,” I said, meaning anything but. “What’s the license plate?”

  He seemed to chuckle for a second. “I snuck a personalized plate past the powers that be. The license number is 3JOH22A,” he said and laughed.

  “What do you mean you snuck it past? Is that someone’s password?”

  “Look in a mirror to get it, Haskell.”

  Why did I think Lyle would make any sense? “I’ll see if I can get a BOLO out there on this. You’ll be the first person I call if anything comes up, Lyle,” I lied. “What an idiot,” I said once I’d disconnected.

  “One of your clients?” Taylor asked.

  “No, just a guy who works for a client. A real jerk. So how do you want me to sit?” I said, moving the subject away from the car Taylor’s uncle was supposed to have stolen.

  “Just the way you were— arms resting on top of the back of the chair. Lean forward a little, you know, like you’re talking to pals on a sunny afternoon, and there’s nothing bugging you. Yeah, there you go. Maybe don’t lean quite that far.”

  I straightened up a little.

  “Yeah, perfect,” he said and grabbed a brush.

  I took two breaks over the next three hours. I ref
illed my coffee mug twice and used the bathroom the second time. I grabbed a quick look both times I walked past to retake my seat. Taylor was definitely making progress.

  Annette popped back into the studio just after the noon hour. She stood behind Taylor and studied the portrait for a moment. “I’m thinking of making a quick lunch, Taylor. Are you at a stopping point?”

  “Yeah, don’t make anything too fancy. I just want to take a short break.”

  “Perfect. I’ve got sandwich makings on the kitchen counter. Come in whenever you’re ready.”

  “Dev, you can go in now if you want. I’ve just got a little touch-up to do. It’ll take me maybe ten minutes. You go ahead.”

  I didn’t have to be told twice and hurried out the door to catch up with Annette.

  “How’s it going in there?” she asked.

  “You tell me. You were looking over his shoulder. I’m just sitting there chatting away.”

  “He really is talented,” she said. “Oh, I’m praying he gets this scholarship.”

  “Yeah, you and me both.” My phone rang, Dennis Richards. “Hello, Dennis,” was how I answered.

  “Hi, Dev. How’s the head feeling today?”

  “Not a bother, thanks for asking. What’s up?”

  “Actually, I was calling for Taylor. I’ve got a group of customers who want him to design a logo for their organization.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, and they’re willing to pay him.”

  “Hang on a minute, and I’ll put him on,” I said and hurried back out to the studio. “Hey, Taylor,” I said, stepping into the studio. “Phone call for you.”

  “For me?”

  “Yeah, Dennis at Inkredible.”

  “Really?” he said, setting his brush down and taking my phone. While he talked with Dennis, I looked at the painting. It was far better than anything I’d ever be able to do, and it was still in the early stage. Taylor chatted for a couple of minutes, passed on his phone number, then disconnected and handed the phone back to me.

  “What’d he want?” I asked.

  “Just what he told you,” he smiled. “I’m going to design a logo for some guys. They’re going to call later this afternoon. Hope that’s okay. I told him to go ahead and give them my phone number.”

  “Yeah, that’s okay. You thinking of working on the painting some more this afternoon?”

  “If we could work until around three, I can get all I need from you. I can take a couple of pictures with my phone and put them up on my computer. That way, you won’t have to sit there on that chair and get any crazier than you already are.”

  “That sounds like a pretty good plan,” I said.

  We had a quick twenty-minute lunch and were back in the studio. I quickly ran out of things to say and just sat there while Taylor worked. At one point, I dozed off and suddenly jerked myself awake.

  “Okay, Dev, let me take some pictures of you with my phone.” He took five pictures, emailed them to himself, then said, “You’re free to go if you want.”

  “Yeah, I’ll head to the office. Are you going to stay here?”

  “Annette offered to give me a ride in around five or six if that’s okay.”

  “That will work great. Would you mind if I invited her for dinner? I feel like we owe her big time for letting you use all this stuff and for lining up a chance at that scholarship.”

  “No, I wouldn’t mind. In fact, I’d like that.”

  “Okay, keep up the good work,” I said, standing behind him and looking at the painting. “You know, what if you eliminated the black eyes and made my nose look normal?”

  “Yeah, and that would eliminate the whole sense of what I’m trying to accomplish.”

  “Okay, okay, just a thought. Good luck,” I said and headed out of the studio.

  I talked to Annette for a brief moment, trapped her into coming over for dinner, and headed to the office.

  Chapter 41

  I parked behind Louie’s faded orange Ford Fiesta. “Perfect timing,” he said as I stepped into the office. “Twenty minutes earlier and you would have had the pleasure of Tubby Gustafson.”

  “You talked to Tubby?”

  “No, thankfully, I saw them coming out of the building, him and that fatty guy. I drove past and went around the block, waited until I was sure they had left and then parked and hurried in.”

  “God, I wonder what he wants,” I said, sitting down at my desk.

  I thought for a moment and then phoned Aaron LaZelle. Surprisingly, he answered.

  “Yeah, Dev. What’s up?”

  “I’m wondering if you can put out a BOLO on a stolen car.”

  “Who would steal your car?”

  “No one with any sense. Fortunately, this isn’t about my car.” I went on to explain how Eli Cummings was suspected of stealing Lyle’s car.

  “And this Lyle character is one of Gustafson’s thugs?”

  “Yeah, in fact, it was Tubby who wanted the BOLO out there, well, and this Lyle idiot too, I guess.”

  “So why didn’t they contact us? This Lyle character has supposedly been without a set of wheels, and he’s just getting around to having you contact us now? My first thought is there might be some difficulty with the title, you know, as in a stolen vehicle. He has you making the call. Did you see the vehicle being stolen?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “And how did you get the information, the description, and the personalized license plate number?”

  “Lyle called me with it. Tubby made him call me.”

  “Are you sensing a pattern here, Dev? Why would we want to waste our time if the supposed owner of the vehicle can’t be bothered to spend five minutes informing us of the theft.”

  “Aaron, they told me the car was stolen by Eli Cummings. I’ve passed the information on to you. Do with it what you will.”

  “Okay, I’ll put it out there. Hopefully we can get him before he hit’s another branch bank. How’s everything else going, Dev?”

  “I remain the most boring person in town.”

  “Keep it that way, Dev. I gotta run,” he said and hung up.

  Louie looked over at me but didn’t say anything. I puttered around the office for a bit then phoned La Grolla, the restaurant across the street from my house, and placed a takeout order. Thirty minutes later, I had just set the three Styrofoam trays on the kitchen counter. No sooner had I let Morton into the backyard when there was a knock on the front door.

  Annette and Taylor gave me a wave as I approached the door, and I let them in. “Come on back to the kitchen. I’ve got dinner going. Get you a glass of wine, Annette?”

  “Yeah, if you’re having one. I brought a little something for Morton,” she said and handed me a brown paper lunch bag. “It’s a ham bone.”

  “Oh, he’ll love you. Let me call him in, and you can give it to him.”

  I let Morton back into the kitchen. His tail began to wave at the sight of Annette and Taylor. He got a head scratch from Taylor, and then Annette presented the ham bone to him. He grabbed it and hurried off to a corner so he wouldn’t have to share.

  I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of white wine. “Taylor, you want a root beer?”

  “Yeah, please.”

  I served up the beverages, and we settled in at the kitchen counter. Annette looked at the white plastic bag with the three styrofoam trays and said, “Dev, is that the dinner you’re working on?”

  Taylor laughed.

  “Yes, it is. I had to go to three different places before I found Styrofoam trays.”

  “Actually, this works out just fine. I’ve got an early morning meeting. Tell me if this will be okay. We’ll have the dinner you worked so hard on, and then I’ll take Taylor back to my place and he can spend the night there. You won’t have to bring him out early. He can wake up and continue working. And I’ll get to my meeting.”

  “What about school tomorrow?” I asked.

  Taylor made a face and sa
id, “Well, I am working, and I hope to finish up your portrait tomorrow. I want to submit it as soon as possible.”

  “If he gets accepted, he could begin the second quarter in just a week or two,” Annette said.

  “Or, you could spend the night here and go to your meeting,” I suggested.

  She smiled and said, “Ahh, no, Dev.”

  We decided that, under the circumstances, Taylor could go back to Annette’s and hopefully finish up the portrait.

  I served up the dinner, which amounted to passing Annette and Taylor a styrofoam tray. It wasn’t even seven, and they were out the door heading back to Annette’s house. I put the silverware and the wine glasses in the dishwasher and headed down to The Spot. There were only a few people in the place. Louie was on his usual stool reading a newspaper.

  “Hey, Dev, I feel like it’s been about a year since you’ve been in here. Where’s Morton?”

  “At home in the middle of a love affair with a ham bone.”

  Mike stepped up and said, “You having a beer tonight, Dev?”

  “Yeah, I think that would be perfect and another of whatever Louie is having. Let me just grab some cash from the ATM.”

  “Don’t bother. We had a break-in last night. Someone tried to get into the ATM and screwed it up. One of their repair people is scheduled for tomorrow, but until then, I’m afraid it’s out of order.”

  “What’d they do to it?” Louie asked.

  “I was told over the phone, but it wasn’t making sense. Technical jargon,” Mike said. “Whoever it was came in through a window in the back.”

  “I’ll cover Dev’s beer,” Louie said.

  “Actually, I’m glad you’re here, Dev. I’m more than a little worried about security tonight. Would you ever consider spending the night here? Free drinks, and I’ll pay you.”

  “When you say the night, what exactly are you talking about?”

  “I’m going to shut down at midnight, sooner if we’re empty. I was planning to spend the night here, but I’ll be dragging tomorrow and can’t get anyone to cover for me. If you were here, I could be back around 6:30 or 7:00 tomorrow morning. Like I said, I’ll pay you. I just can’t leave that ATM unguarded. If someone breaks in, we’re liable for the cash and any damage. You could just sack out in one of the booths.”