by Drew Blank
Goose martini up and a shot of Louis Trey,” I read off my list to her.
“Louis Trey? Damn. You got some big spenders out there?” Dawn took note of the uncommon request as she fumbled with her keys to unlock the cabinet that housed all of the expensive liqour.
“It’s only money,” I repeated Benji Carver and Junior Whitney’s words to her.
“Must be nice,” she said, pulling out the crystal decanter. “Do they want it in a kid’s cup with a bendy straw?” She laughed at her own joke as she pulled down a snifter.
“Nah. Dirty ashtray will do,” I said. “It’s for the mayor’s kid, so make sure to lick the glass or something.”
“You kidding? I got guys paying extra for that.” While her tone was joking, I knew a few guys that actually would throw in a couple additional bucks for that service.
“So, no Randy tonight?” I asked, hoping to get a little info.
“You didn’t hear? He’s on complete police lockdown,” she told me.
“Really? For what?” Playing dumb had become second nature to me at that point.
“That whole thing last night with The Freak. He was the guy in the video who survived.” Even though she was repeating what I already knew, I had to remain captivated. “So the cops have him under constant surveillance for the next day or two.” She poured my martini from the chilled shaker.
“You really think the cops are worried about what happens to some small time drug dealer?” I asked.
“Well, they don’t have anything to bust him on or else they would have just brought him in and booked him. But I don’t think they are there to protect him.” She leaned in as she shared her theories.
“Whatta ya mean?” I asked, curious.
“I think they are using him as bait. That Freak is gonna come looking for Randy and when he does the cops will pounce!” She emphasized her point by smacking her right hand onto her left. “Ask me, I wouldn’t mind hanging out waiting either.”
“And why is that?” I inquired.
“Dude’s hot. I’d totally jump him,” she said while popping an olive in her mouth and flashing me a wink. Even though Dawn kept her flirting to a minimum, she had no problem admitting to her own sexual desires.
“Yikes! Lucky fella,” I said.
“Too bad he’s gonna get the chair.” She shrugged as she cracked the top off the mayor’s MGD bottle. “You need anything else, hun?”
“No. Just a couple bottles of wine, but I’ll get those from the cabinet. Thanks for your help, doll.” I lifted the drink tray over my head and exited the service bar, a little turned on by Dawn’s admission.
The dinner party went off without incident. Carver spent the majority of the meal emailing from his hand held PC while nursing the four hundred dollar cognac, rarely looking up to acknowledge the other guests. Mayor Whitney stumbled out of the room after having one too many scotches, while Katherine followed nagging incessantly about embarrassing her in front of their friends. It seemed to be the same show every month. Before they reached the exit, Whitney would inevitably remind his wife that he is the mayor and he will do whatever the hell he damn well pleases. She would then remind him that without her he would be nothing. How much truth there was in that statement I did not know, but it was her perpetual defense in their eternal battle. It amused me to watch them bicker over matters so trivial compared to the fact that their socially awkward son was a cold-blooded killer.
Upon exiting, Carver did lift his head from the tiny
screen long enough to ask me a question.
“There’s a bartender here. Mexican fellow. Is he working this evening?” Apparently the police were not overreacting by putting Randy on watch. Unfortunately, they were looking out for the wrong guy.
“Ummm…” I said, as if I had to think about it. “No. It’s just Dawn back there tonight.” I tried to mumble and cover my voice up best I could.
“Hmmm. That’s unfortunate,” Carver simply stated.
“Did you want to leave him a message?” I asked, wondering if he would be brazen enough to let Randy know that someone was still looking for him.
“No. No message.” Carver then walked past me, as if immediately forgetting he had even held a conversation with another human being.
“G’night Benji,” I said under my breath to no one in particular.
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
“So, this was a productive night, eh Sparky?” Twisty observed as she hopped up on the stainless steel counter where I was finishing up the shift’s paperwork.
“Yeah. I made a hundred and fifty bucks,” I responded with forced enthusiasm. She flashed me a look, making it clear she was not interested in discussing how much money I made that evening. “Oh, were you referring to the discovery I made regarding my psychotic wanna-be arch villain and his patriarchal ties to the city’s mayor?”
“Ummmm…yeah, dipshit,” Twisty rolled her eyes at me. “Nice use of the word patriarchal, though.”
“Yeah. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t rehearse that in my head a little,” I confessed.
“I’m still not sure you used it right. Wouldn’t it mean that Carver is the mayor’s father?” She pointed out.
“Look lady. I grew up in a freakin’ orphanage. Cut me some slack.” I defended my ignorance.
“So, what’re we doing tonight?” She kicked her feet against the counter, obviously full of energy.
“I dunno. I suppose we have to swing over to Phil and Jim’s place. Let them in on the new info.” I shrugged my shoulders as I packed all my paperwork into an envelope.
“Blah blah blah… Boring!” She crossed her arms as if pouting. “Can’t you just call and tell them? We never do anything fun anymore.” She jutted out her bottom lip, a manipulative tool that worked for both Twisty and Moxie.
“What would you like to do, my dear?” I asked, hoping it was something that involved very little effort on my part. It had been a long and rough day of revelations and discovery. I needed to relax.
“We haven’t had a movie night in forever. My place. Zombie movies. Pizza bagels. No crime-fighting. Can you handle that?” She laid out the plans, giving me no way to turn her down.
“Yeah. I can handle that,” I told her. “Let me go turn in my stuff and then we can get going.”
Twisty waited for me patiently at the Captain’s Table as I closed out my night. I had to spend a few minutes in the office listening to DeeDee go on and on about how Twisty needed to grow her hair out and how shaving her head was irresponsible and unprofessional and all sorts of other nonsensical manager bullshit. When I finally explained Twisty’s motivation for shaving her head, DeeDee immediately turned even redder than normal from shame, apologized profusely and remained silent until our transactions were handled. After all my years, I finally found a way to shut DeeDee up. I would have to remember that.
“Geez. Take forever why dontcha’?” Twisty remarked as I turned the corner to greet her. “What were you two doing down there?” She raised an eyebrow, insinuating the unthinkable.
“Need I remind you DeeDee still has to count on her fingers? Everything with her takes forever,” I explained as we headed for the time clocks.
“Good,” she said. “I was worried you guys were doing it.”
“You, ma’am, are disgusting. I think I hate you a little bit now for putting that image in my head,” I told her as I swiped my employee card through the time clock.
“Do you think she’s freckly like that all over?” Twisty asked me wide eyed as we made our way to the exit in the loading dock.
“Seriously. I hate you.” I made a fake gagging sound as I pushed open the heavy metal doors to the outside.
“No you don’t. You love m…” Her words were cut short as we got a clear glimpse outside and saw a police car parked directly in front of the loading dock’s metal fence with its lights flashing. Leaning against the car, obviously waiting for us, was Dom. Instead of his typical police uniform, though, he was sporting a black
leather jacket over a black t-shirt and blue jeans. He was wearing one thing I had never seen before that he was obviously showing off. Dangling over his sternum was a detective’s badge, affixed to a metal chain looped around his neck. Standing with his arms crossed, he appeared more confident than I was used to seeing. He wore the role of detective well.
“I was wondering when the hell you were finally going to get out of there.” He greeted me with a smile. “Good evenin’, Miss Bailey.” Dom gave Twisty an exaggerated bow.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, showing my confusion. “It’s almost midnight.”
“I missed you. Can’t one dude miss another dude without getting the third degree?” He held out his arms as he approached us.
“Why do I doubt that is the purpose of this visit?” I inquired skeptically. “And what’s with the lights?”
“Dramatic effect.” He chuckled as he gave Twisty a hug, and then me.
“Well, you can’t have your boyfriend.” Twisty pulled me in by linking elbows. “He’s mine tonight.” She then poked out her tongue at Dom to further emphasize her point.
“Seriously, why are you here so late, man?” I asked, while flashing an apologetic look to Twisty. If Dom was here on business, I would need to listen. She knew this too, as she pulled her arm from mine and crossed hers.
“Wanted to talk. Needed to bounce some work stuff off of you,” he said. “But if you want to do it later, I totally get it.”
“Why don’t we all go get a bite to eat?” I offered, trying to appease both my friends.
“Well, it’s sort of about…” Dom motioned with his
eyes as if he were telepathically trying to tell me what we needed to discuss was secret.
“Dom, c’mon. Do you really think I don’t tell Twisty everything?” I said, trying to put him at ease.
“I really wish you wouldn’t. No offense, Twisty,” Dom said sincerely. “I mean, this is really private business.”
“Look Dom, if you want me to help you out and be your confidant, I need to be able to tell someone. It’s just the nature of secret keeping. You know you can trust her.” I gave him a big smile as I wrapped my arm around Twisty and pulled her into my armpit.
“Yeah. Okay. Fine.” Dom gave in without a fight. “Then can we all go grab something to eat?” He asked.
“If it’s okay with Twisty,” I said, knowing she wouldn’t dare say no.
“Fine, but I get to pick where, and Dom’s buying.” Twisty laid out her terms.
“I can handle that,” Dom agreed. “So where to?”
“Roscoe’s for late night pannycakes!” Twisty licked her lips and rubbed her hand on her stomach.
“Roscoe’s it is,” Dom said as he headed for his car. “Want me to drive? We can skip the red lights.” He chuckled as he made his way to the driver’s side.
“No, that’s all right. I’ll just throw my bike in Twisty’s trunk. We’ll meet you there!” I said while waving him off. I knew I needed to give Twisty a moment or two to vent and that was completely understandable.
We pulled into Roscoe’s a few minutes after Dominick, allowing him enough time to secure us a table inside. When Twisty and I entered, Dom threw one hand in the air to motion us over as if signaling us into the VIP Room of some elite club. He loved wearing the detective badge and it showed in his presence.
“So, you enjoying your new necklace, buddy?” I
jibed as we made our way over to the big red leather booth.
“Dude, I fucking love this thing!” The elderly couple enjoying a late night dessert at the table next to ours easily heard his loud response. Dom waved an apology, obviously embarrassed. “Sorry folks.” He flashed them his boy scout smile and quickly ducked back down behind the partition separating the two booths.
“I can tell. You seem almost happy to be working,” I told him.
“I wouldn’t go that far. But anything’s better than the patrolman’s uniform.” He slid to his left, making room for Twisty and I on the half circle bench.
“I told Drew you look like a stripper in that outfit,” Twisty laughed as she glided across the red leather.
“You wanna see the show later?” Dom jokingly wagged his tongue at her while he fondled his own nipples through his t-shirt.
“I’ll pay you to leave your clothes on,” she came back bluntly. “As a matter of fact, I’ll pay you to layer on more.”
“Why ya gotta be so mean?” Dom fake pouted. “That hurt my feelings.”
“Cops don’t have feelings. Now where the hell is our waitress?” Due to the business we were in, Twisty gave no slack to the waitstaff at other restaurants. Especially the waitstaff that stood between her and her pancakes.
“So, did you see the news this morning?” Dom had a purpose for being out late that night and as much as I knew he enjoyed our banter, he wanted to get to the point of his visit.
“The video of your guy?” I asked, although I knew that was what he was referring to.
“Yeah. Did you watch it?” He asked, excited by the subject.
“Guy looks pretty sexy,” Twisty said while still craning her neck looking for a server.
“Looks like that’s a big break for you.” I stayed on topic, ignoring Twisty’s comment.
“I wish,” Dom said, hunching over a bit in his seat. “It really doesn’t do us any good, other than letting us know the guy wasn’t just some fairy tale.”
“Well, at least you know you aren’t chasing Bigfoot or the Loch Ness monster.” I tried to be encouraging, all the while being relieved that the video didn’t reveal any hard evidence that I may have missed.
“Hey! Nessy is real, dammit! How many times do I have to tell you that?” Twisty pointed a fork at me, obviously unable to focus, or unwilling to.
“Actually, it made things even harder for me,” Dom sighed.
“Harder? Why?” I asked.
“Because there is something I know that the media doesn’t,” he replied.
“And that is…?” I prompted Dom to spill his guts.
“Hold on. Let’s order,” he said as the waitress approached, leaving me hanging for what seemed like an eternity.
Once our server left Dom continued. “Now you gotta promise me this stays right here. Nobody outside the precinct knows what I’m telling you, okay?” He pleaded with us as I mimed my lips zipped and Twisty crossed her heart with her index finger.
“You have our word,” I assured him while Twisty nodded.
“Well, I don’t think The Freak killed those guys,” Dom said with quite a bit of certainty.
“What?” I tried to mask my complete and utter shock.
“You saw him beat those guys senseless in the video, right?” Dom asked.
“Well, yeah,” I answered, just waiting for the explanation.
“What would you say if I told you every one of those kids died from a bullet to the head?” While this was not news to me, I had to go along with the faked shock so I could get the whole story.
“Yer kidding!” I blurted out.
“Nope. No matter what he did to the guys in that room, none of it resulted in death,” Dom continued. “The even weirder thing is the blood spatter reports. They say the gun was fired from the same spot in the room for each shot.”
“Whoa…” Twisty played dumb as well as I did, dropping her jaw in fake disbelief. I kicked her under the table to keep her from overdoing it.
“So, tell me why The Freak busts into this little party, lets Randy run free, beats the shit out of four guys, lets another one run free and then decides to stand back and shoot everyone in the head. It makes no sense. Someone was holding that camera and I am pretty sure if we could find the guy doing the filming, we would have our shooter.” Dom shook his head in disbelief as he recounted the story.
“But, who the hell would do that?” I asked innocently, digging for more information.
“I have no idea, man. For right now, we are letting the news believe it was The
Freak, but I dunno how long that’s gonna last.”
“Dude, that’s fucked up. So, is Randy’s place still under watch even though you don’t suspect The Freak anymore?” After having my interaction with Carver at Tully’s, I was genuinely concerned that he was gunning for Randy.
“Well, The Freak is still our only suspect. Until I have solid evidence, he is the one my guys are after. They are hoping he’ll show up at Randy’s place and they can take him out. Regardless of his guilt or innocence in the incident last night, he is still a murderer.” It seemed even though Dom did not suspect me for the previous night’s murders, he was still sure about The Freak’s involvement in the Head Knockers murders.
“What can we do for you?” I asked, already aware there was nothing we could do.
“I dunno, man.” Dom put his head down almost to the table top. “I guess I just need someone to bounce ideas off of. I have no one in the precinct that will take me seriously. They have their minds set on knocking off The Freak, guilty or not. It’s pretty much up to me to find the real shooter, without a shred of evidence.”
“There was nothing at the scene?” I was definitely prying.
“There was another coat and hat, this time hanging in the backyard. At this point, the dude’s just messing with us.” Dom said.
“Well, at least you’ll have a whole new wardrobe for next winter,” Twisty laughed snidely.
Ignoring her comment Dom continued, “and there were cameras on the property, staked into the ground, pointed at the house. My tech guys told me there were night vision capable cameras and then infrared cameras. Real high-powered equipment. Apparently, you can’t get these infrared cams just anywhere. Only a select few stores even carry stuff like that. It’s not much of a lead, but it’s something. We’re compiling a list of places that sell them and we’ll take it from there.” I couldn’t even focus on what Dom was saying anymore. My head was spinning with the possibilities of getting caught just because Phil bought a not so common camera. The blame also laid on me for not retrieving the stakes when I left. I just knew Carver would be watching me, and the less he knew about our operation the better.