Crickett (Dev Haskell - Private Investigator Book 8)

by Mike Faricy

  “Oh, man, sorry about that, I guess I was really out. If it’s not too much trouble would it be okay if you dropped me off at my office? I spoke to my office mate this morning, he said he’d be there, and with everything that was going on, well I lost my set of keys.”

  “That’s your pal Louie, right?”

  “Yeah, how’d you know?”

  “What? Oh you must have mentioned him at some point. Didn’t you tell me you were going to call him last night?”

  “Probably,” I said, pretty sure I didn’t mention Louie’s name, or anyone else’s for that matter.

  I gave Charlie directions to my office and we pulled up in front not ten minutes later.

  “You want me to wait while you run up there? Just in case your pal’s not here.”

  “Thanks, Charlie, but not necessary. I’m sure he’ll be there.” I turned to face him and said, “I’m kind of at a loss here. You really looked after me, God, I wouldn’t even be here if it hadn’t been for you. Tubby’s guys were going to kill me.”

  Charlie nodded. “Yeah, they were, but that’s in the past, you need to put it there and then lock it away. Like I said, when it was all said and done, you were the only one who tried to help Daryl. I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know. You need anything, Dev, don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Same goes for you, Charlie, you ever need anything just let me know,” I said then we shook hands and I climbed out.

  Charlie gave me a little wave and pulled away, a moment later, the red Escalade pulled away from the curb up the block and drove past. No one in the vehicle bothered to look at me. I watched the cars until they’d driven out of sight then went in and climbed the stairs to my office.

  “Hey, just in time. I got a fresh pot going,” Louie said as I came through the door. He was standing in front of his picnic table desk, holding a mug full of steaming coffee. “You enjoy your little vacation? You said you were up North, I want all the disgusting details, who was she?”

  I smiled and suddenly felt very tired. “The bad news is, there wasn’t anyone. I guess the good news is, I’m here to tell the story.”

  Louie looked at me for a moment and you could see the wheels turning in his head. Then he shrugged, sat down, and put his feet up on the picnic table. He slurped some coffee, spilling some on his shirt in the process. “God, that’s hot,” he said and bolted upright.

  “Nice to see some things never change,” I said then settled in behind my desk.

  “You okay?” Louie asked some time later. He’d been going over a couple of files, while I continued to just stare out the window.

  “Yeah, just tired is all. Thinking.”

  “Thinking, hmmm-mmm, that must be why I didn’t recognize the look,” Louie said. He went back to reviewing his files, then left for a court appointment a little after one. Later that afternoon I phoned Heidi.

  “Hi, Heidi.”

  “Well, mystery guest. Where have you been?”

  “I was just up North for a couple of days.”

  “Really? Doing anything interesting?”

  “No.”

  “Are you okay, Dev?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, not to worry. Just checking in, I guess.”

  “Why don’t you come over tonight? I’ve got a meeting at five, but it shouldn’t last too long. Can you make it for dinner, say seven?”

  “Yeah, actually that would be great.”

  “You sure you’re okay? I don’t know, it’s like you just sound sort of different or something.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks for asking. I’ll see you tonight, seven. I’ll bring a bottle of wine.”

  “That would be perfect. Call me if anything comes up, otherwise I’ll see you tonight, don’t be late.”

  I hung up the phone and stared out the window until it was time to go to Heidi’s. I suddenly realized I didn’t have a car. I walked four blocks to the liquor store, picked up a couple bottles of wine, then hailed a taxi as it drove past. On the way to Heidi’s, I had the driver go past Crickett’s house. There was a freshly planted for sale sign in the front yard. I had him pull to the curb and I got out and rang her doorbell. I rang it a couple times, but she never answered.

  I peered in the living room window, the room was empty except for four or five boxes stacked in the middle of the floor. There was a folded baby stroller leaning against the boxes. I think the stroller was the one she’d had Oliver in when she ran into me at The Spot a thousand years ago. Apparently Charlie had moved pretty fast.

  “You looking to buy a place?” the cabbie asked when I climbed back in.

  “Oh, just a wild thought. I wanted to check that place out, but after taking a quick look, it’s not right for me.” I was at Heidi’s door a few minutes later.

  “Amazingly, right on time,” she said opening the door, then took the bottles of wine from me and we walked back into her kitchen. She was wearing her standard fantastic outfit then oddly, had an apron wrapped around her that was so splattered it made her look like she’d just survived the St. Valentine’s Day massacre. “Big surprise, I’m actually cooking this meal, Dev,” she said then stepped back and looked at me. “You okay? You seem, I don’t know, different.”

  “Me? Yeah I’m fine.”

  “You look like you need a lot more than a hug, but let’s start there,” she said and then wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked a moment later when she’d stepped back.

  “I told you, I’m just fine.”

  “Okay, if you say so. You just, I don’t know, you seem a little different. Anyway, nothing that some home cooking can’t fix. I’m making pasta.”

  She said it like it was some sort of major undertaking. I didn’t feel the need to point out you basically just boiled water. Her kitchen sink had three pans, a couple of bowls, various kitchen utensils, and something that looked like a section of rain gutter already stacked in it. The kitchen counter was hidden under a layer of flour and eggshells. Various spice containers and empty food packages were strewn about. There was a foot long slash of what looked like tomato sauce running down the white subway tiles on one of the walls.

  “Wow, looks like you’ve been busy. So, you’re cooking, actually cooking, and not just reheating?”

  “Shut up and open the wine. I took a lesson if you must know.”

  “A lesson?” I said, getting the corkscrew out of a drawer.

  “Yeah, they handed out about thirty different dinner recipes, plus I’m baking French bread, a baguette in case you’re interested.”

  “Impressive. When did you become Julia Child?”

  “Who?”

  “Not important. Hey, I’m duly impressed,” I said, then handed her a glass and raised mine in a toast.

  Chapter Forty-four

  “Okay admit it, this just really sucks” Heidi said and stabbed her fork disgustedly into her pasta bowl. “God, I should have just ordered in a pizza. Nothing turned out, did it? Tell me the truth.”

  “I think you’re being just a little hard on yourself. It’s a really good first effort.” We were eating in the dining room. I wasn’t sure we’d ever get the kitchen back to a semblance of normal, and Heidi was right, the food was awful.

  She must have thrown the entire pasta package into the pot. There was enough spaghetti to easily feed another ten people. Not that they’d eat any more than we had. Our plates remained largely untouched. She’d burned the baguette, turned the thing to charcoal bits. She was supposed to bake it in the rain gutter thing, but for some reason had laid it on the metal rack, where it dripped through onto the electric coils at the bottom of her oven. That set the smoke alarm off, the first time. It went off again, when she’d burned the pasta sauce while attending to the oven disaster. In an effort to compensate, and balance things out, she’d undercooked the pasta. It didn’t crunch, but it was a pretty long way from what you’d call the tender stage. I was wishing I’d gotten four bottles of wine instead of just two.


  “God, I just can’t do this shit,” she said, then held out her empty wine glass and wiggled it from side to side.

  “I think it’s a pretty good first effort, honest,” I said.

  “Oh shut up, I’ve got some Snickers ice cream bars in the freezer, want one?”

  “I’d love one, I’ll get them,” I said, then got out of my chair and picked up our pasta bowls still heaped to overflowing with Heidi’s inedible attempt at Italian cuisine.

  “Yes, please just get it out of my sight, thank you,” she said and refocused her attention on the glass of wine.

  I pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen it was an even bigger disaster, than when I’d first arrived. It smelled like a five alarm fire, the vent fan over the stove was still roaring, and the back door remained open in an effort to get all the smoke out of the kitchen. There wasn’t a flat surface anywhere that hadn’t been littered with cooking debris. And then there were the two muscle bound guys leaning against the counter.

  One of them had the lid off the pan with the burnt pasta sauce and was making a disgusting face as he sniffed the contents. “This smells really bad, man.”

  I’d foolishly left the Walther at my office. I would have tried to make it to the front door, but that would have left Heidi on her own. The guy sniffing the pasta sauce watched me as I glanced to the far side of the granite counter at Heidi’s knife rack.

  “Oh, please don’t think like that. If we’d wanted to nail you, we would have just walked in and shot you at the dining room table with Miss Fantastic Ass out there. Actually, the honor of your presence has been requested by Tubby Gustafson,” he said then made a sweeping sort of gesture with his arm in the general direction of the back door.

  “Gee thanks, but I’ve sort of got other plans,” I indicated the kitchen and the disaster that surrounded us.

  “Yeah, not that it doesn’t need it, but this is a special, very personal invitation, and Tubby isn’t the sort to keep waiting. He’s just out front. I don’t think this will take more than a minute of your time, Mr. Haskell.”

  The guy seated at the kitchen counter got up off the stool. He was at least six-two with tribal tattoos wrapped around his very large biceps. I recognized him as one of the guys who was pushing the giant inflatable balls the other day and helping dead Reggie. “Please,” he said nicely enough, but there was no question, one way or another I was going to meet Tubby Gustafson, now.

  It turned out Tubby’s limo was parked across the street from Heidi’s house. As we approached the guy with the tattooed biceps stepped ahead and said, “Please, allow me, Mr. Haskell.” Then he held the door open for me and waited until I climbed in before he closed it.

  The limo was long, black, and very shiny. When I climbed in, there sat Tubby, lounging in the far corner, holding a chilled stem glass of something. He was dressed in an off-white suit and a starched white shirt with some sort of food stain dripped along the buttons. It looked like some of Heidi’s pasta sauce, and my first thought was ‘it serves you right.’

  “Please, join me,” he smiled and directed me to the seat opposite him as if I had a choice. I sat down and we stared at one another, while Tubby took a couple of loud gulps and examined me over the rim of his glass.

  “Life’s funny, isn’t it, Mr. Haskell.”

  “Not lately,” I said.

  “Look, I hope you’re not too upset over the unfortunate events of the other day. Just a slight misunderstanding I’m afraid. You know how it is, right?”

  “I’m not sure I do, maybe you could just enlighten me.”

  “Oh you know, in our haste, certain individuals can be prone to make mistakes. That’s all it was, just a simple mistake. I hope you understand, and you’ll have the good sense to forgive,” he said.

  “Forgive you? For trying to kill me?”

  “Well now, no need to be quite that specific that was just basic business, and perhaps a bit unfortunate. I’ll give you that. But, I’m the one who suffered the substantial loss here, and all because of a lack of information on someone’s part. Frankly, I just didn’t have all the facts at the time.”

  “All the facts.”

  “Why yes, your connections, you see in a way, it’s really your fault. All you had to do was tell me you were connected to our good friends up North and none of that awfulness would have happened. It would have been a completely different story. We just didn’t know, frankly we had no idea. I thought you were just some stupid, bumbling, pain in the ass fool, bent on causing me headaches.”

  “Your good friends up North? And that would have made a difference?”

  Tubby raised his hands palms up, indicating the two of us facing one another in the back of his limo. “Well, here we are, both of us, you and me, talking like a couple of reasonable gentlemen, and,” he pulled back a curtain on the side window to give me a view of the street just as a faded powder blue Integra with a pink trunk pulled up and parked in front of Heidi’s. Bulldog stepped out from behind the steering wheel, smiled and gave me a nod.

  “To tell you the truth, Mr. Haskell, I had no idea you were connected. If only you had mentioned something, anything, all that unpleasantness would have never occurred. I hope you’ll accept my sincere apology, and let your friend know I’m very sorry,” Tubby said then bowed his head and tried to look contrite.

  “My friend?”

  “Your friend up North,” he said and raised his eyebrows.

  I nodded then asked, “Where does Crickett fall into all of this?”

  “Crickett?” His eyes moved up to the right of his thick skull, thinking. “Look, you want her? You can have her, she’s all yours.”

  I shook my head. “Just curious, I guess. No, she deserves the two of you, you and your son.”

  “I wonder if perhaps we couldn’t have a gentleman’s agreement not to mention that small indiscretion, ever again.” His voice quivered, and his face became flushed as he squeezed the stem of his glass and fought to remain in control, then he drained his glass and burped.

  “What are you drinking?” I asked.

  “Prosecco, could I interest you in a glass?”

  “If you had a bottle to spare, I think I could put it to pretty good use.”

  He reached past me and pulled down what I thought was an arm rest. I immediately felt the cold air rolling out of the small cooler. He reached in, removed a chilled bottle, and handed it to me. “Now, how’s that for service?”

  “Yeah, thanks. Anything else? I really should be getting back inside.”

  “Of course, of course,” Tubby said, then reached over and opened the door for me. “Say, Haskell, you won’t forget to mention our little conversation to your friend, will you? Let him know I’d like to stay on his good side from here on in.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell him, Tubby. Thanks for this,” I said holding up the bottle, then I climbed out and crossed the street.

  “Here’s your keys,” Bulldog said stepping forward. He handed the Feline Rescue key ring back to me. “Got it all washed and detailed for you, too.” He attempted to smile, but his face was so unused to the exercise, it came off as more of a sneer.

  “Nice,” I said, then walked back to Heidi’s kitchen door. They were gone by the time I reached the corner of the house.

  “What were you doing in there?” Heidi asked, she was still sitting at the dining room table.

  “Oh, just starting to straighten up the kitchen a little.”

  “It’s kind of a mess isn’t it,” she said and put on her dejected face.

  “There’s no ‘kind of’ about it, but I’ll clean up, you cooked after all.”

  She brightened up at that.

  “Listen, why don’t you curl up on the couch, there must be something completely worthless you could watch on TV. How about a glass of Prosecco?”

  “I wish we had some.”

  “As a matter of fact, we do. I brought some.”

  “You did? I don’t recall seeing any when you came in.”r />
  “You were all involved preparing dinner,” I said, not adding ‘and almost poisoning both of us.’ “You go on into the living room, I’ll bring a glass out to you.”

  Over the course of the next ninety minutes, I returned Heidi’s kitchen to a semblance of order; I scrubbed the pans, loaded and ran the dishwasher, scoured the countertops, put the spices away, tossed out the various empty packages, mopped the floor, wiped down the subway tiles on the wall and then hauled the remainder of her failed attempt at cooking out to the trash. During that process, I also filled her Prosecco glass five separate times.

  When I finally exited the kitchen, she was curled up under a leopard skin fleece, snoring. So much for my good intentions. I left her a note thanking her for dinner, then turned off the light, and locked the door behind me.

  I climbed into the Integra. There was a naked lady air freshener hanging in the hole where the radio used to be. A .45 slug rested in the ashtray, compliments of Bulldog, no doubt. I debated for half a second about going back into Heidi’s, then fired up the Integra. It was probably just as well, I had a busy day ahead of me.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  I was up before my alarm went off and heading North. I drove through Vaxholm and out the county road for a mile then turned on the road that led to Charlie’s place. The red Escalade was parked in front of the garage. There were a couple of high-powered pickup trucks pulled further ahead. I parked the Integra and climbed out, it continued to sputter and shake as I looked over the roof at two guys sitting on the front porch. They seemed to be enjoying the show.

  “You might want to get that looked at,” one of them called. His partner chuckled.

  I began to make my way up the steps.

  “Maybe just hold it right there. What do you want?”

  “I’d like to speak to Charlie.”

  “He’s pretty busy right now.”

  “I’d still like to talk to him, tell him it’s Dev Haskell.”