Dev Haskell Box Set 8-14 (Dev Haskell - Private Investigator)

by Mike Faricy

  Chapter Nineteen

  Swindle’s apartment wasn’t in the worst part of town, which actually came as a surprise. She was around the corner and up a half block from where the Tap Room bar used to stand. A cop had been shot inside the place about four years back and the city tore down the entire structure which did nothing but spread the slimy regulars to a half dozen other joints.

  Swindle lived in a three story red-brick building that was built over a hundred years ago. A large piece of red granite sat at the center of the roof line with the year “1912” carved in it. From the way the windows were positioned, I guessed the building was originally a six-unit structure. Based on the number of mail boxes set in the wall there were eighteen much smaller units in there today.

  A stack of discarded grocery circulars and direct-mail pieces had been tossed in a recycling box in the corner of the small entry. The box was overflowing and the circulars now littered the better part of the floor. Yesterday had been the free recycling pickup on this end of town, but apparently no one had been bothered enough to set the box out at the curb.

  It was a little before one in the afternoon and I pushed the buzzer next to the mailbox for unit thirteen. A scratchy female voice groaned out of the speaker, “You’re early,” then buzzed me through the security door without bothering to check who was there.

  Her unit was up on the third floor, and closest to the staircase. A couple of white garbage bags were leaning against the wall further down the hallway. From the smell I guessed they’d been there for a while. By the look of the door frame on Swindle’s unit, the door appeared to have been kicked in more than once. The upper tack on the ‘1’ of ’13’ was missing and the small brass number hung upside down. Someone had drawn a crude pornographic image on the wooden door with a black marker. A hole in the wall with two bare wires indicated where the doorbell used to be. I knocked.

  The door opened a minute or two later, and there she was in the flesh, almost literally. She wore a black negligee that looked at least a size too large and hung down almost to her knees. The lace on the right side was torn and a long strip sort of dangled against her lower leg. She had a cigarette going in one hand, and held a half-full glass of some sort of clear liquid on ice in the other.

  “You’re awfully damn early. Come on in, we might as well get started,” she said. From the tone of her voice and her posture I guessed it wasn’t her first meeting of the day.

  “Hi, Swindle, how you been?”

  “‘Fraid you got it wrong, baby. I’m Pepper now, and I… Wait a damn minute, I know you, I think.” She sort of gave a laugh which immediately turned into a hacking cough.

  “Dev Haskell, Swindle.”

  “No, that’s not it.”

  “Actually, yeah it is. That’s me.”

  “Really? Oh hell, you gotta be kidding me. Who knew? So, you come back for more, did ya? No wonder you’re early, guess you just couldn’t wait. Well, I tell you what, it’s your lucky day ‘cause I’m gonna give you a special, baby.”

  “Actually, I wanted to ask you some questions. I’m just looking for information on a guy, and…”

  “Questions? You ain’t a cop now, are you? I been good, you can just ask around. Everyone’ll tell you I’m the best,” she said, then started to laugh again which brought her into another coughing fit.

  I stepped inside, then closed the door behind me. A threadbare couch sat up against a grimy wall. What looked like an awfully new flat screen TV that had to be sixty or sixty-five inches was no more than four feet from the couch. Beer cans, a couple of pizza boxes, and an almost empty plastic gin bottle littered the three legged coffee table leaning against the far wall.

  “Sure you ain’t no cop?”

  “No Swindle, I’m not a cop. But your name came up as someone who might have some valuable information.”

  “That’s me, Den, little Miss Valuable. Why don’t you grab a seat and get comfortable while I just freshen up my drink? You want a little something?” she said then raised her eyebrows suggesting more than a beer.

  “No, thanks, Swindle. I gotta watch myself.”

  “Oh, come on, we’re old friends. Nothing you want that ain’t been done before,” she said then emptied the rest of the plastic gin bottle into her glass filling it a good two-thirds of the way up. She took a couple of steps and opened the freezer compartment on her fridge, pulled out an ice cube tray and set it on the counter. She tossed two cubes into her glass, causing it to overflow. She ignored the spill, left the ice cube tray on the counter, then sat down next to me. “Where do you want to start, Dave?”

  “How about those names on your neck? That’s a new addition since the last time we were together. What’s that about?”

  “Men, they’re only after one thing,” she said and took a healthy sip.

  “So why put their name on your neck?”

  “I want to look at it every day and never forget how they ripped me off. See?” she said then turned her head so I could read the names.

  I’d been right, all four names were crossed out. The second one was Freddy and I wondered if that was Fat Freddy Zimmerman, Tubby Gustafson’s enforcer. The fourth name was Austin.

  “That Austin, that’s not Austin Hackett, is it? The guy with the Bunny Hutch website?”

  “Let me tell you,” she said then made me wait while she took a big sip and stubbed her cigarette out in a pizza delivery box. “The bastard ripped me off. Promised me all sorts of business would come my way and it never, ever did. Told me I was gonna be one rich bitch. Well, I got halfway there, and I ain’t rich,” she started to cackle then launched into another one of her coughing jags.

  “So he never paid you?”

  “That wasn’t exactly our deal. Well, see he was going to send all sorts of movie producers my way, only he never did. Not so much as one little customer, not a one. Can you believe it?”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I’m getting to that, honey, just give me a minute here,” she said then fished a cigarette out of a crumpled pack at the end of the couch and stuck it between her thin lips. “Be a gentleman, won’t you, Don?” she nodded toward a pack of matches resting next to the pizza boxes.

  I opened it up, noticed a phone number written on the inside, then lit her cigarette and stuffed the pack into my pocket. Swindle, ever the lady, blew a cloud of smoke up toward the burnt-out bulb hanging from the dingy ceiling.

  “Bastard promised me it was going to be the chance to restart my career in Hollywood. Get noticed by the big names, you know, movies, maybe an Academy Award or something.”

  “You were out there once before, weren’t you?”

  “Hollywood? Yeah, I made a bit of a name for myself,” she said, then sat up a little straighter and pushed a greasy lock of hair off her forehead. Girl Overboard, Teacher’s Pet, Spanky, Stroke Machine, ever see ‘em?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “You should check ‘em out, they’re hot. I starred in all of ‘em plus a bunch I can’t seem to recall just now,” she said, furrowing her brow in an effort to remember. “Oh well, it don’t really matter. Anyway, that rat Austin promised me a contract and introduction to some big names. I never heard a damn thing. So, I decide I’m gonna get in touch with him, let him know he ain’t just screwing some virgin.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t think that, Swindle,” I said before I could stop myself.

  She didn’t blink. “So I went to his office, then I went to his home. Told some bimbo who said she was his housekeeper that I wasn’t leaving until I got a starring role. Next thing I know some bad boy ties me up, tosses me in the trunk of a shiny black limo, and keeps me in a cabin for a week with him and his pals.”

  “Keeps you in a cabin?”

  “Yeah, up in the woods somewhere, big fancy place. We started to party and I wore everyone of ‘em out. Then once the fools figured out I was a lousy cook they brought me back to town, gave me a couple hundred bucks, and promised to stop by every-now-and-again.�
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  “And do they, stop by?”

  “Like I said, every-now-and-again.”

  “Did you know Austin Hackett was a lawyer?”

  “A lawyer? You gotta be kidding me. When’d he start that? He’s a film producer, least that’s what he told me, had a bunch of them triple-x movies set up for his website. That’s why he hired me, cause I got a name. I’m sort of famous, kind of, in some circles.”

  “You ever think of going to the police?”

  “You think I’m crazy? Bastards’ll just arrest me, like they always do. Fancy shits like Austin, them rich pricks, they always get away with whatever they do. Go to the cops, what the hell are you smoking?” she said, then drained a good portion of her drink. The buzzer suddenly rang on her intercom.

  “Now who in the hell would that be? You’re here early and now my three o’clock, hell it ain’t even two. That’s just crazy. Hey, what do ya say to a three-way?”

  “No thanks, Swindle. Tell you what, I appreciate your time. I’ll let you get on with the business at hand.” I pulled a couple of twenty dollar bills out of my pocket and tossed them on the coffee table.

  “Mmm-mmm, thanks honey. Listen, you ever want to come back and chat, you just let me know. Always willing to work something out for a generous kind of man,” she said, then placed a hand on my shoulder and started to tickle my ear.

  I quickly grabbed her hand and shook it. “Thanks for the time, Swindle.”

  “Remember, it’s Pepper, now honey. Listen, if I can help you getting Austin, you just let me know. I’ll make it worth your while,” she said then winked as she picked up the twenties and stuffed them beneath the cushion on the couch. The buzzer on the intercom rang again, this time much longer.

  “I better head out and let you get back to work. Many thanks,” I said then quickly hurried out the door. I could hear her groaning into the intercom as the door closed behind me.

  “You’re early, baby…”

  I passed a middle-aged fat guy on the second floor. He was red-faced and breathing heavy, resting for a minute before he climbed up the final flight of stairs. I could only hope he knew what he was getting into.

  Chapter Twenty

  I sat behind the wheel of my car and pulled out the pack of matches from Swindle’s apartment. For all I knew, the phone number could be a pizza delivery guy, but I dialed it anyway.

  After a couple of rings, a husky voice answered, “This is Clarence.”

  “Hi Clarence, my name is Dev Haskell. I got your number from a woman named Pepper.”

  “The movie star?”

  I had to think a moment. “Yeah, I guess that’s her. I was wondering if we could talk.”

  “Talk?”

  “I’m doing some investigation for a lawsuit. I’m not an attorney, I’m not a cop, I…”

  “So you’re like a private investigator or something?”

  “Actually, yeah. That’s it exactly. I’m investigating an individual by the name of Austin Hackett.”

  “Oh yeah, sometime client of mine. A lot of people seem to be unhappy with him.”

  “That would appear to be the general opinion. Would it be possible to meet you somewhere?”

  “Tell you what, I’m working right now. In fact I better get off the line here, but I’ve probably got some down time early this evening.”

  “You name the place and I’ll be there.”

  “There’s a Subway shop corner of Selby and Victoria. I should be there right around six.”

  “I’ll be there. How will I know you?”

  “You can’t miss me,” he said and hung up.

  I brought Morton home a little before five, took him for a nice long walk, got his dinner ready, then headed toward the Subway shop. It wasn’t too far from my place.

  About ten minutes after I arrived a black limo pulled into the parking lot. The limo driver was a large man with skin the color of creamy coffee. He was dressed in a dark suit with epaulets on the shoulders. He wore a black hat with a patent leather visor. As he walked in the door someone from behind the counter called, “Evening, Clarence.”

  I walked up behind him and said, “I’ll get this and I’ll have the same, too.”

  “That okay with you, Clarence?” the guy behind the counter asked then eyed me.

  Clarence nodded and held out his hand, “You must be the gentleman that called me earlier, Clarence Rutherford.”

  “Dev Haskell, Clarence. Nice to meet you.”

  We walked back to a corner table, Clarence gave the nod to a couple of different folks in the place. We sat down and he proceeded to unwrap his sandwich. “Listen, Dev I got a busy night, concert downtown and I’m moving five different groups, so unfortunately, I can only give you a few minutes.”

  “Not a problem, I understand. How do you manage to shuffle five groups in your limo?”

  “I own five limos,” he smiled then took a large bite of his sandwich.

  “Austin Hackett. So what can you tell me?”

  “Humph, well my dealings with him have probably been better than most. That’s only because I have him on a cash upfront basis. You’re in this business for any amount of time you get to size folks up rather quickly. Austin Hackett is cash up front.”

  “You chauffeur him around a lot?”

  “Almost never. I don’t really know the particulars, but my guess is he uses my service as window dressing just trying to impress folks. It’s part of the business, a lot of folks do that. I do a lot of pickups at the airport, dropping folks off at someone’s office then bringing them back for a flight out of town. Almost always same day. That’s invariably the sort of work I do for Mr. Hackett.”

  “What about Pepper?”

  “Pepper, she was a little different story. One of my employees brought her up to Austin’s lake place for a couple of days, along with three or four other individuals. Not sure of the circumstances exactly. If I remember correctly, after four or five days he drove back up there, took the gentlemen to the airport and Miss Pepper to her home.”

  “You know anything about Hackett’s business?”

  “Oh, you hear things. You know, you drive folks around, after a bit they just sort of act like you aren’t there and then they start talking.”

  “What’d you pick up?”

  “Nothing I’d really care to share. What’s the term, client confidentiality and all? I hear enough to know Mr. Hackett will remain a cash upfront customer and as long as that’s the case, I’ll be happy to provide him with our service.”

  “Fair enough. You aware of any security on his part?”

  “Security?” Clarence said then sort of seemed to suddenly grow a little wary.

  “At his office, his home? Does he have people, a bodyguard anything like that?”

  “Nothing beyond the normal things. He’s got an alarm system at his home, and a fence with a big gate surrounding the property. His office building has a desk with a couple of security guards down in the lobby, but you just check with them and then they call up to announce you. There’s something like twenty floors with different offices in the building, so it’s nothing unusual. I’ve never picked up on anything like a bodyguard. What’s he done, anyway?”

  I gave Clarence the cliff note description. I didn’t mention Heidi, or anyone else for that matter.

  “Not surprising. There’s a certain bunch of folks, clients of mine, you know they’re involved in certain things, but that’s just the business. That bothers you, well then you shouldn’t be driving a limo. It’s like lawyers. They deal with criminals, but they’re highly regarded and I suppose that’s fair, I guess. Long as they pay their bill and they aren’t doing anything illegal in my vehicles, I don’t have a problem.”

  We said goodbye out in the parking lot. I grabbed a couple of Clarence’s cards, not that I planned to use a limo anytime soon, but you never know. I tossed the half of a Subway I couldn’t eat into the front seat of my car and headed home.

  Something was bothering me
as I sat on the couch sipping a beer in my den, but I couldn’t get a handle on exactly what it was. I’d gone over my conversation with Clarence a half dozen times, but wasn’t coming up with anything. The Twins were playing Chicago, actually doing pretty well although it was only the bottom of the second inning when my phone gave off the wolf whistle. AJ calling.

  “Hello.”

  “Did you forget our date?” There wasn’t a polite tone to her question.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Like I just told you, I was involved in this stakeout at a suspected bank robber’s house, at least we think he’s a dangerous bank robber. Anyway, I’m hiding in his closet and had the phone turned off, so I couldn’t text you. He was supposed to leave at six, something got screwed up, anyway I’d just gotten cleaned up at home and was ready to phone you when you called. More wine?” I said and started pouring.

  “Careful, you don’t have to fill it to the rim. Just let me sip this. So if you were home getting cleaned up, how come you’re in the same jeans and that, that shirt with the food stain you had on this morning?”

  “Oh, well, see I didn’t want to waste time putting a different outfit on and, well, I was rushing around so I could get over here.”

  “Why didn’t you just call?”

  “Yeah, I should have done that. I guess I was just thinking of being with you and so my mind sort of blocked out all other options.”

  She just sort of let that last line hang out there, sat back, sipped her wine and studied me, slowly nodding her head.

  “What?”

  “I’m thinking you’re a lot of work.”

  “Too much work?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Would you care to order an appetizer?” The waitress asked, saving me from further grilling at least for the moment.

  “None for me,” AJ said, sort of setting the tone.

  “I think I’ll have the Thai chicken with the peanut sauce.”

  “Oh, you better not get that…”