by Mike Faricy
“Son-of-a-bitch,” he said and I could sense the wheels turning. “What in the hell does she think she’s doing?”
“The truth?”
“No, please lie to me. Yes, I want the truth, damn it. What do you know?”
“I’m pretty sure Natasha confiscated a rather large amount of dope and….”
“Oh, Christ, don’t tell me, the medical marijuana thing, again. She actually believes she’s going to convert the world. I think the authorities in Colorado suggested it would be a good idea if she left the state. I’m almost sure that’s what they told her in Seattle. She just doesn’t get it, she’s, I don’t know….”
“Book smart, but rather naïve?” I suggested.
He had a disgusted look on his face and shook his head. “Damn it, why aren’t you still providing Natasha and Princess Anastasia with security?”
“That ended about forty-eight hours ago. She told me once she was here, at the Blessington that they’d be safe.”
“Maybe from obnoxious fans and cellphone cameras, but not from the likes of the morons you described. This is exactly the point I was attempting to make that evening on her front porch.”
“And when Denis followed me home?”
“That jackass. No that wasn’t me. Yes, I mentioned the incident to him, no to answer your question, I did not suggest that he follow you in the hopes of committing an assault. Denis has a habit of grabbing onto a kernel of an idea and running with it, usually in the wrong direction. He and I may just have to have another chat.”
“If you can find him.”
“Are you available, can you use some work?”
“To tell you the truth I don’t really need another headache. I’ve got someone down at the police department working overtime trying to tie me to everything from the Kennedy assassination to 9/11.”
“I have a large bit of change wagered on this event, The Blessington. There’s only three days left, what’s your rate?”
I thought for a moment and said, tell you what, six hundred a day, that’s eighteen hundred total and expenses, plus one more thing.”
“Which is?”
“I want you to include my eighteen hundred in whatever you’re betting on, you win, I win. Fair?”
A smile crossed his face and Tommy Allesi extended his hand, “I may have misjudged you, Haskell. I’ll have to get some credentials for you so you have freedom of movement, they like to think they have things fairly locked down around here.”
“And for my dog.”
“That Golden Retriever? The one who licks everyone? A little high class for him, isn’t it?”
“He needs to rub shoulders with a higher class crowd.”
“Alright, let me see what I can work out, meet me back here in two hours,” Tommy said.
Chapter Fifty-Four
That gave me just enough time to wander down the street and buy a pay-as-you-go cellphone, a “Burner” as they’re referred to. I grabbed a couple of bratwurst with sauerkraut and a beer for lunch once I was back at the Xcel Center. I was standing on the mezzanine swimming in a current of caramelized onions and deep fried fat when I spotted Tommy coming out of a door marked “Security.” He half waved and actually looked almost pleased to see me.
“Here, take this,” he said handing me a plastic VIP card hanging from what looked like a giant red shoe lace. “Put this on and it’ll give you access to just about everywhere, and here’s one for your dog, too. You go through that door marked “security” and down the stairs, that’ll put you in the boarding area. There’s an office down there, just ask and they’ll direct you to Princess Anastasia and Natasha.”
“Now, I just have to convince Natasha,” I said.
“I already spoke to her, she seemed to, oh, I don’t know, be rather pleased with the idea. Something about relieving her stress level,” he said and sort of raised his eyebrows.
“I had better get down there then,” I said and headed toward the door.
A guy in a blue windbreaker with yellow letters that read “Security” was just on the other side of the door, he just gave me a nod and waved me past once he spotted the VIP credentials.
Down two flights of stairs and I was in a massive auditorium sort of room I never even knew existed. At the far end of the room were a dozen large overhead doors that looked like they led to loading docks. The auditorium itself had been sectioned off into hundreds of small bays equipped with kennels, cots and all sorts of equipment. There was a constant conversational hum, a buzz of noise, lots of barking and the up-to-the-minute play-by-play from large monitors covering the competition going on two floors above. The office was just off to the right.
“May I help you,” an efficient looking woman asked. She was standing behind a receptionist sort of counter, next to a large plastic salad bowl filled with red and white peppermints. She looked to be in her mid-forties. I guessed she might have three or four kids and therefore not a lot of time to waste. Behind her sat three guys monitoring a bank of security cameras, none of whom bothered to turn around and check me out.
“I’m looking for Natasha Kominski,” I said.
“Oh, yeah, Princess Anastasia,” the woman replied and quickly leafed through a clip board on the counter. “Here we go, aisle J, unit eighteen. Just take a right out this door, each aisle is numbered on the floor, number eighteen will be about a quarter of the way down on your right hand side.”
“Thanks,” I said, grabbed a peppermint and went on my way.
Unit eighteen was exactly where I had been directed; down an aisle with individual areas about ten feet wide cordoned off on either side. Each unit was designated by a number hanging from the top of an eight foot high metal frame, curtains hung from all of the frames affording some modest degree of privacy. Number eighteen was draped with heavy, red velvet curtains trimmed in gold that reached to the floor. A sign about five feet long with twelve inch letters in a fancy gold script and black shadows hung from the eight foot frame and read; “La Princesse Anastasia.”
“Natasha?” I called.
“Oui. Oh s’il vous plait, ne venez en,” a voice answered from behind the curtains.
I had no idea what she said so I pushed the velvet curtain aside and stepped onto a thick, blue and red, oriental rug. Princess Anastasia sat at attention in a large kennel off to the side. Natasha sat at a makeup table on the opposite side wearing a short red-silk robe. A sleeping cot was positioned in the middle of the area. Her back was to me and she talked as she continued to apply her eye-makeup.
“How very nice to see you again, Devlin. Mr. Allesi stopped by earlier and suggested you might be just the thing for a stress release. I couldn’t agree more, however we are pressed for time at the moment. We’ll be performing in just twenty-five minutes,” she said briefly turning to look at me. “Princess Anastasia and I, not you and me,” she said then turned back to her mirror. She made eye contact with me via her makeup mirror, flashed a quick smile my way then went back to work with her eyebrow pencil.
I was going to tell her there was some mistake, but decided to keep my mouth shut for the moment. I noticed the cot was barely large enough for only one individual to sleep in, thank God. Next to the cot was a small glass fronted refrigerator, filled with red, green and gold foil covering the corks on about a dozen different wine bottles. An expensive looking mahogany end table with turned legs held her silver tray with the handles and four long stemmed crystal glasses.
“Actually, we, Allesi and I, thought it might be a good idea to just keep an eye on things based on the incidents over the past few days. It would be a shame for you to make it this far only to have something unfortunate happen,” I said hoping to refocus on my actual purpose.
“I’ll have another cot moved in here for later tonight.”
“Oh, not to worry, that won’t be necessary.”
“Neither one of us will get any sleep if we’re both in that,” she said with her back to me, pointing at the cot with her left hand. She continued
to deftly work the eyebrow pencil with her right hand. Eventually, she put the pencil down on the makeup table. She turned to face me for a moment not bothering to close the red silk robe and said, “Then again, who knows? Just about anything could happen.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
“I suppose I’d better get dressed, we’re due in the on-deck area in twelve minutes,” Natasha said.
“I’ll just wait outside.”
“Oh, not to worry, you’re just the incentive we need for a show stealing performance.”
“That’s okay, I’ll be right outside,” I said then quickly slipped out through the red velvet curtains and waited on the far side of the aisle in front of unit fifteen hoping she wouldn’t call me.
She didn’t call, for a good five minutes. Then I heard, “Mr. Haskell, Devlin, would you mind giving me a hand, please.”
At least she wasn’t speaking French. I stepped across the narrow aisle, and slipped back in between the velvet curtains. Natasha stood with her back to me, wearing a silky beige blouse, a black thong, flesh colored stockings with a dark seam up the back and a black garter belt. As I stepped inside and pulled the curtains closed she bent over, shot a lingering glance at me over her shoulder then slowly began to pull a tweed skirt up from the floor, revealing a pair of sensible brown walking shoes. She took her time as she slowly hiked the skirt up her legs and over her thighs, moving her hips from side to side as she did so. I had to admit, she looked awfully damn good.
“I wonder if you’d do the honors and just zip me up in back,” she said still with her back to me.
I stepped over and reached for the zipper.
“Oh, say, be a dear and tuck that blouse in back there, I can’t seem to reach it.”
I lightly tucked in her blouse and she gave a slight sigh, “Make sure it’s all the way down and not bunched up. Oh, and if you don’t mind around the hips, too as long as you’re there. Mmm-mmm, nice, yes very nice thank you. Alright, I’m afraid you might as well zip me up.”
I pulled the zipper up quickly then immediately retreated back to the curtain. She seemed to chuckle to herself, then picked up a matching tweed jacket from an upholstered chair and handed it to me. I held the jacket open as she slipped her arms into the sleeves then wiggled back and forth as I raised it over her shoulders. The woman who just a moment ago was standing in front of me in a thong and garter belt had suddenly been transformed into a schoolmarm in a conservative tweed suit. She reached over and gave me an innocent pat on the cheek then smiled, slipped on a pair of brown framed glasses and said, “It’s show time.” She clipped a leash onto Princess Anastasia’s collar and we headed up to the competition area.
We took an elevator up to the main floor of the Xcel Center, walked down a very short corridor and stepped into the competition area, not quite the size of a hockey rink. I could see the seats around the entire arena were filled. Natasha and the princess walked over to the side and waited patiently in the On-Deck circle while I was instructed by two security guards to remain outside the competition area.
When the team in front of her, a short, grey-haired guy with a beagle, had finished Natasha waited a few minutes before she was waved forward by one of about a half dozen judges. A voice filled the arena announcing Natasha and Princess Anastasia. As she walked into the competition area she was greeted with a round of polite applause which immediately stopped the moment she gave a signal they were about to begin their routine.
Maybe two minutes into Natasha’s routine a young woman walked past me with what looked like a chocolate lab on a leash and headed for the On-Deck circle. A handful of claps and a whistle or two greeted them and one got the immediate sense that something in the atmosphere had suddenly changed. A disdainful glare at the crowd from two of the judges brought the smattering of acknowledgement to a halt.
Ten minutes later Natasha and Princess Anastasia completed their routine. With Natasha’s hand signal they both gave a bow to the judges, then to the crowd and left the competition area to polite applause. Just as we headed out of the competition area and back into the short corridor that brought us to the elevator the arena filled with whistles, shrieks and heavy applause.
The announcer’s voice was all but lost in the ovation. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Miss Melinda Kissler and Hershey, her three year old Chocolate Lab.”
Natasha pressed the button for the elevator then glared at me. “We’ll just see how things work out for that bitch over the next two days.”
“Hershey is a female?” I asked as we stepped into the elevator.
“What?”
“Hershey, I don’t know, that just seems like kind of a strange name for a female.”
“He’s not a female,” she smiled.
“Okay,” I said as the doors opened and we headed back to her unit.
Natasha was finished for the day and wasted no time in having me open a bottle of chilled, white wine. Once she was settled into her chair and I’d filled her glass I said, “Hey, would you mind? I was going to bring Morton down here, give him a look around, you know let him hang with high class dogs for a change, see if any of it rubs off.”
“I’d prefer that you keep him away from Princess Anastasia. I’d like her to remain focused on the competition. If we make the cut, and I’ve absolutely no doubt we will, the last thing we need is a distraction, tomorrow’s competition will be rather crucial.”
“Not a problem.” I pulled out my business card and a pen. “I’m getting an upgrade on my phone, here’s a number to reach me at if you need anything while I’m gone.”
“You are coming back, aren’t you? I’d feel a lot more comfortable with you nearby tonight,” she said then raised her eyebrows as she sipped.
“Yes, we’ll be back,” I said, then gave her a little wave and got out of there as fast as possible. I could only hope Morton would prove to be a successful deterrent to whatever Natasha had planned.
Chapter Fifty-Six
On the way home to pick up Morton I phoned Louie. “Hey, you anywhere near a computer?”
“Hello to you, too. Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am. What do you need?”
“See if you can look up the betting odds on Best of Show for the Blessington Kennel Club.”
I heard some keys clicking in the background and then a long pause.
“What’d you find out?” I finally asked.
“Actually, I’m still checking. This might take a while. When did you get your phone back? I thought Manning was going to call me when they released it.”
“I didn’t get it back, I went out and picked up a pay-as-you-go. I’m working a new gig.”
“Really? Well, at least you’re not working for that nut case with the dog.”
“Not in so many words.”
“What?”
“Tommy Allesi, he hired me to provide Natasha Kominski, the nut case, and her dog, Princess Anastasia, with security. That’s why I wanted to check the odds on a winner for the Best of Show. Tommy said he’s got a lot of money running on Princess Anastasia, but there’s another dog here named Hershey that at least seems to be a favorite with the crowd. Tommy doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d let something like sentimentality get in the way of a winning bet.”
“It’s going to take a bit of digging to get the odds, give me the number I can reach you at.”
I gave Louie the number just as I pulled up in front of my place. Before I got out of the car Morton was standing on the living room couch, looking out the window and barking.
I got Morton fed, then took him on a mile long walk in an attempt to calm him down. I called the Head Case salon while I was walking Morton, double tasking to my way of thinking. A bubbly voice answered, I pictured the young girl I’d seen in there the other day with all the metal piercings and wondered if they caused any interference with the phone.
“You have reached the Head Case,” she answered.
“Alexi, please.”
“He’s busy with a cl
ient just now. Can I take a message and have him call you back when he’s free?”
I gave her my name and new number, then piled Morton into the back seat of my car and we headed down to the Blessington Kennel Club show.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Morton just lounged in the back seat while we drove down and I parked the car. He could not have cared less when I clipped the VIP ID onto his collar. He was relatively calm as we approached the front door. Once inside, he immediately sensed something was up and began to strain at the leash, I had to use two hands to pull him back.
“Morton, settle down, man or you’re going to get both of us kicked out of here.”
He seemed to dial back, but I walked him over to a corner and just to be sure I said, “Princess Anastasia.”
He looked at me as if to suggest, “Doesn’t translate.”
I said her name a couple more times just to see if I could get a reaction from him. “Princess Anastasia, Princess Anastasia, princess, princess, princess,” I said and he gave me a look that suggested I was wasting both our time.
“Okay, good to go, buddy,” and we headed through the security door. We had both our passes checked on the other side, Morton remained calm. I almost wondered what sort of chemical he was suddenly on, but figured a heart worm pill wouldn’t have this sort of effect. His tail started wagging once we were downstairs. It really took off as we headed up the “J” aisle. By the time we were approaching number eighteen I was holding Morton back with both hands as he strained at his leash.
I pulled his head close to my knee and called through the curtain, “Natasha?”
There was a giggle and then a slurred, “Oui, oui, oui, it’s about time, better get that little tushie in here, the party has already started without you.”
As we stepped inside, Princess Anastasia, who had been lying alongside Natasha’s chair immediately sat up in her best pose, then ignored Morton and looked the other way.