Play Sexy For Me (Handy Mann Chronicles Book 1)

by Jimmy Pudge

  The three of them followed me back up, the tall man going inside the apartment.

  “You stay at the front door, protect the crime scene and tape it off,” the short guy told the uniform.

  The officer nodded.

  “I’m Detective Fairfax. My partner is Detective Stegman. What’s your name, kid?”

  “Handy,” I said.

  “Handy what?” he asked.

  I pulled out my wallet and tossed it to him. He glanced at my license, tossed it back.

  “Tell me how you came across this body.”

  “I woke up beside it,” I said.

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah. Claire and I—we went on a date last night. I came with her to the room. We fell asleep together. When I woke up, I found the room in a mess. And she was dead.”

  The tall detective walked out of the room and stood beside his partner, dwarfing the man.

  “You kill that girl?” he asked.

  “No,” I said.

  Stegman leaned over, his face inches from mine. “I’m going to fuck you up for what you did to that girl.”

  “Hey now,” Fairfax said, putting an arm between us. “Let me do the talking, Stegman. You go back inside, try to figure out what happened.”

  “I’ll tell you what happened,” Stegman said. “This punk motherfucker right here knifed that girl.”

  “How do you know this guy was even in the room?” Fairfax asked.

  “He ain’t wearing any fucking shoes. That’s because they’re on the floor, right beside that dead girl. There’s also a pair of Pinocchio boxers slung up on the headboard. You wearing any underwear, you dirty motherfucker?”

  Fairfax laughed. “Yeah, he was in there. He already told me that.”

  “Go back inside and investigate Stegman. Leave the interview to me, pal.”

  Stegman gave me a savage look, pulled his coat back, so I could see the Glock. Then he turned and headed back inside 208.

  “How did you meet the girl?” Fairfax asked.

  “Should I be talking to you?” I said. “Don’t I need a lawyer?”

  “You ain’t under arrest, son. You think you should be?”

  “No,” I said. “I met the girl the other night. She came in from the rain and we hit it off, talking about life and stuff.”

  “Sounds romantic,” Fairfax said.

  “I took her in the back office—“

  “Hold up,” Fairfax said. “What back office?”

  “I work here,” Handy said. “I was on front desk when she came in.”

  “I see. So you took her in the backroom. Why’s that?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “We weren’t doing any business and she was shivering. Thought she could use someone to talk to and we could have a bite to eat.”

  “Shit don’t sound right,” Fairfax said. “Hold on a second.” Fairfax waddled inside the room, let out an audible, “Damn, someone fucked that girl up,” then called out for Stegman.

  I strained to hear the conversation, but I couldn’t pick up jack shit.

  The two emerged minutes later, and I noticed Fairfax was in the rear, putting distance between the tall detective and me. Shit. I had a feeling things were about to get ugly.

  Stegman wasted no time at all. “You took her in the back that first night she checked in?” he asked, slapping me on the back. It was a hard slap and rocked me.

  “Tell me all about that,” Stegman asked, his hands clenched into fists. Something told me Stegman didn’t give a fuck about what I had to say. He was just looking for the right time to bust my ass with one of those meaty hands.

  “Look, guys,” I said. “There’s a security camera. You can watch the whole thing on tape.”

  “Oh yeah?” Stegman said. “Take us to it.”

  I led them to the elevator and we rode down listening to Bruce Springsteen singing about a knife edgy and dull. How ironic.

  I found when Claire first entered the entrance of the Dollar Inn and let them watch the events unfold.

  “Burn us a copy of that footage onto a CD,” Fairfax said.

  I nodded.

  “I’m going to bust your fucking ass,” Stegman whispered to me.

  “Look,” I said, handing the CD to Fairfax. “We went and ate at the Waffle House. Marcia can confirm that. She’s the other desk clerk. I also met Claire’s boyfriend, Mal. Marcia can also confirm this. She’s the one who revived me after he knocked me out.”

  Fairfax seemed interested in this information. “Mal?” he said. “What does Mal look like?”

  “He’s ugly as hell,” I said. “Here, take a look on the footage.” I fast-forwarded the video, the people speeding by like ghosts, and stopped at about the time Claire and I returned.

  Stegman laughed when I got punched and asked me to rewind it, play it again.

  “Burn that to CD,” Fairfax said.

  The two detectives walked off, muttering something I couldn’t make out. I finished the recording, ejected the disk.

  Fairfax came back, took it from me.

  “Alright. We’re not going to bring you in right now. But don’t you leave town.”

  “On this salary?” I said. “I don’t think you have to worry about me leaving anywhere.”

  Chapter 6

  I walked outside and took in a deep breath. Several deep breaths actually, it was all I could do to keep from hyperventilating and passing out. What the fuck happened? How the fuck did I sleep through it all? I had to clear my head. I had to go back in the room and see what the fuck happened. I had to fucking get my head together. For several moments I just stood there, holding up the side of the building gathering my thoughts and my breath. I walked over to the back of the Dollar Inn where I usually parked and remembered that my car was fucked up. Did I tell the pricks about my car? I couldn't remember. I was just glad that they had left, especially the giant douchebag. The other guy seemed to be okay but I was glad they were out of here. I mean it’s not that I hate the police or anything, but I always get a thrill when they aren't around, know what I mean? Then again, I bet there are a lot of people who feel that way. Man, my mind was racing. I needed to clear my head. I went back into the motel.

  "Hey Rudy, can I borrow your car?"

  "Fuck no, dipshit. I'm not even sure you still work here."

  "Look, I just woke up next to a dead chick that I was in love with, man, and I don't know what the fuck happened. Hey, I could have easily been killed too, you know, so cut me some slack you fucking ball bag!"

  He stood up, got in my face, and I could smell the fresh tobacco in his mouth and even saw some of the juice trickling out as he stared a whole right through my eyes. Then he laughed and smacked me on the back. "You got some set on you, Handy! Ain’t too bright, but you are lucky I like you."

  He went back behind the counter and opened a few drawers and found a key ring with a bunch of keys and took one off and tossed it to me. I managed to miss it, and it bounced off my head, scratching me just above the eye. "Oww, sonofabitch, learn to throw old man."

  "Ha! Learn to catch you sissy. Take the old pickup next to the dumpster."

  I was about to complain and remembered beggars cant be choosers. I should know, I’d begged for sex many times in my life. I thought that if I had a dog, he could learn how to beg by watching me in the bedroom.

  As I walked to the hunk o’ junk as I affectionately called it, I wondered if I was able to give Claire one last orgasm before whatever the fuck happened had happened. I am sure it was good. I know when I am polishing one off, I have to refrain from yelling my own name.

  The truck stood out like an eyesore. It made the old truck that Lamont drove around in on Sanford and Son look prime. I had to get into the truck from the passenger’s door, since the driver’s door was not functioning. In fact, aside from whatever the fuck was wrong with it to keep it in place, it was actually held to the frame of the truck with wire and rope. It was almost completely covered in rust. I mean, you couldn't get
it to look that bad if you tried. By comparison, the Duster was a dream machine compared to this, but when I turned the key, it turned over. I guess that's all that really mattered.

  The drive back to my trailer was a blur. When I arrived, I tried for like five minutes to open the truck door, then remembered the fucking thing didn't work and slid across to the passenger side. I ran into my place and grabbed my rod and tackle box and a small container of night crawlers from the fridge. When I got back out I debated driving down to the lake or walking and said fuck it and walked down to the lake. One of the things I liked about my trailer was that it was a really small park, and there was a lake nearby that had some good fishing sometimes. I mean, you had to time the seasons right for what you wanted to fish for, if that was your game, but if you just wanted to clear your head and fish, you could always catch something. Hell, last time I fished there I caught a tire, a boot and a dead possum.

  I found some high tree roots that were jutting out from the ground and took a seat, my eyes roaming the lake as I thought about my life. I didn't think of myself as a bad guy, not really, maybe not the most mature of people, but not bad, and I didn't think Claire was bad, so why did this have to happen? I wasn't a bad person, but I wasn't naive either. I knew that there were people who did fucked-up shit to other people all the time, and it was wrong. Claire had a hard life and some prick took whatever happiness she had left from her. Took my happiness, too. I could have bee happy with Claire, and I was going to find out what had happened to her.

  I must have been there for about three hours when I heard a branch break. I stood up and saw my new friends Stegman and Fairfax ambling toward me.

  "Getting rid of evidence?" Stegman barked.

  "More like trying to catch some dinner, detective. Find anything?"

  "Yeah, asshole, some evidence you butchered that poor girl!" Stegman replied.

  Fairfax took a step in front of him and held a hand up to his partner.

  "Handy, we are going to need to ask you some questions down at the station."

  I reeled in my line and gathered up the stuff from my tackle box. I left the container of night crawlers there. I had had them for a while and would just get some fresh ones another time. As I walked toward them, Fairfax handed me a folded piece of paper.

  "What’s this?"

  I tried opening it in order to read it, even though my hands were full. It was an official looking piece of paper, but I really didn't need to read it because Fairfax told me what it was.

  "Warrant to search your trailer. Since you reported what happened to your car as a crime we can search it, but we added that on to this warrant in case we find anything.... incriminating."

  "Damn, you guys are gonna search my place?" I said.

  "Yeah, why? Got something to hide?" Stegman said, before he tripped on a rock and fell flat on his face. Fairfax suppressed a laugh. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't have been able to, but there was only one thing going through my mind. Fuck! They were going to find my porn stash.

  #

  They walked me into an interrogation room that looked like a lot of those you see on those cop programs. Homicide, Law and Order, all those programs. They seemed to have gotten the cold, antiseptic look right too. The lighting in there wasn’t the greatest; just a set of florescent lights and in the corner of the ceiling was the all-watchful eye. I guess it was put there in case someone got a sudden dose of conscience and spontaneously confessed or something. Hopefully it was there so the powers that be could see if my rights were being violated. Somehow, I doubted that. There was a steel table that had some cuffs on it and there was no outside window, just a big mirror on one of the walls that stood out as being one of those two way jobs where someone is on the other side watching the whole thing go down.

  "Can we get you anything, Handy?" Fairfax asked.

  "Naw, man, I’m good."

  Fairfax looked at his partner. "I need to go get those files. You keep Handy company, and take it easy okay?"

  "Will do, boss."

  Stegman watched his partner leave. He took off his sport coat and draped it over the chair, rolling his sleeves up. He had really large forearms, and I couldn’t help but notice them as he flexed them in my general direction. I wondered if he was trying to intimidate me, if he was I wanted to tell him that he reminded me of Popeye. Then, in what was a rather dramatic flair, he swept the chair away with his foot and slammed both fists down against the table and leaned toward me, totally violating my personal space.

  "So let’s have it, Hand Job!"

  "Handy. And what do you want?"

  "How about a confession?"

  I wanted to say something smart but thought better of it and then it slipped. "I’m afraid of the dark." There, I said it, and it felt good to unburden myself like that. I wasn't really afraid of the dark, well maybe a little bit, but I wanted to push this asshole’s buttons. I mean, he couldn't smack me around right?

  Wrong. He hauled off and backhanded me, knocking me out of the chair. I fell hard on my ass but wasn't really hurt. I had some padding there but the whack in the chops smarted.

  "What happened, couldn't get it up and she laughed at you?"

  "You'd know something about that I guess."

  Fuck, my mouth went off again, writing a check I knew damn well my ass would never be able to cash. He slid across the table and grabbed me by my shirt and hauled me up. I swear he had me a few inches off the floor when I heard the door open again. Fairfax, holding a folder, stood in front of us.

  "Stegman, give it a rest."

  He sighed heavily and dropped me. I sat down on the chair and tried to un-rumple my shirt. My heart was beating a mile a minute and I hoped I didn't shit myself, especially since I didn't have any underwear on.

  "We found your car where you said it was, and we also found fibers in it, but you drove the woman around so that may explain that. We also found something curious in the trunk."

  He pulled an evidence bag with a bloodstained knife inside from the folder and placed it on the table.

  Fairfax pulled up a chair and sat down. Stegman was about to say something, or rather about to yell something, but it looked as though the wheels were turning in his head. He almost looked like it was painful but I wasn't about to open my mouth again. Stegman sat down next to his partner. Fairfax looked at some papers in the folder.

  "Seems like this is in fact the murder weapon, and it was in your car, which was found a few miles away outside of Le Olde Pour House. The car was dusted for prints and oddly it seems the car was wiped clean. In all probability that means that the vandal or vandals may have tried to steal the car first, and when they could not, they destroyed your vehicle, and then wiped their prints off. We canvassed the place and asked around. It seems you were in there with the victim until sometime after ten, the waitress said you left a nice tip, so that places you where you said you were and when."

  Stegman interjected, "doesn't give you an alibi for her murder though, Hand Job!"

  I wanted to say something but my face still stung and I thought better of it.

  "Look, Handy, right? Lets not rush to any conclusions, the ME hasn't gotten back to us yet, but we know this is the weapon. Everything else is still open. Run through your story again, all of it, from the time you first saw the victim until the last time you saw her. Try to remember anything that you can. Take your time."

  I cleared my throat. "Well, she had the greatest tits I had ever seen. I mean she really filled out her clothes if you know what I mean."

  Stegman smacked his hand down on the table hard. "Just important stuff, not her cup size, asshole."

  "My partner may be a bit overzealous, but right nonetheless. Please, Handy, tell us the facts about meeting her, what you guys talked about, this boyfriend of hers, etcetera. No editorializing okay? Can you do that for us?"

  He seemed like a nice guy, really, I looked at him, and then at Stegman, I would swear on a six-pack of bibles that this guy was fuming at the e
ars. I took a deep breath and as I began my story Fairfax interrupted to let me know everything in the room was being recorded. That didn't stop me. I had nothing to hide. I began telling them what had happened from the second Claire had walked into my life, until I woke to find her wrenched from it.

  I was surprised I was able to tell my story without interruption and when I got to the stuff she said about Mal and her helping him and having the money I tried to deflect the fact that she said she was involved. I didn't want them to have a reason for not caring about Claire and caring more about the crimes she may or may not have committed because of her scumbag, snatch-faced boyfriend. When I finished my story, they asked their questions.

  "So this Mal guy, got a last name?"

  I shook my head. "She never mentioned it."

  "Did she say how long she was with him, where they met, anything like that?"

  "No. Nothing, just that he was abusive and not a nice guy."

  "Did you notice anything missing from the room when you woke up?"

  I thought about the safe and that was the only thing that made me know Mal had to have done this, I didn't really know what was in there but I thought it may help so I mentioned it.

  "Well she asked me how to open the room safe. I showed her how and she put a small bag in there, and some papers. This morning it was opened and empty."

  Stegman grabbed the file that was now sitting on the table and rifled through it.

  "Fucking prints aren't back?"

  "The techs said there were like at least a hundred prints around some areas, it appears the cleaning ladies at the Dollar Inn don't actually clean much."

  I nodded. "You got that right. Fairfax, right? Yeah they don't do much there, I mean at like 35 bucks a night what do you expect?"

  "I’d hate to see that bed under a blue light," Fairfax said.

  I laughed. Stegman kind of smiled I think or had bad gas or something. He stood up, slowly rolled down his sleeves and buttoned them, then put on his jacket. "As much as I hate to say it, you're free to go.” Cue the dramatic pause. “For now." He continued wagging a finger in my face.