[Devlin Haskell 06.0] Last Shot

by Mike Faricy

  “Did she tell you where this happened?”

  Marsha seemed to think for a moment, then shook her head. “Not that I can recall, except that it was on the street. The way she said it made me think it was a surprise to both of them, not like some guy was stalking her and she caught him.”

  “She ever mention her private life?”

  “No, not really. I’m not aware of her dating anyone or working, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Working?” I asked.

  “You know, getting paid for a date, escorting, whatever you want to call it.”

  “There a lot of that going on?”

  Marsha seemed to eye me cautiously for a moment then stared into the distance. “You look like you know what happens in this business. You swear you’ll never do it, but then there’s a guy with some money…he may even be cute and you’ve got the rent due or a car payment. You get paid and he gets a smile on his face. No problems, no strings attached. Sometimes I even enjoy the moment,” she said very matter of fact.

  “Did Desi ever mention anything about being an architect?”

  “Actually, I never knew anything about that until I heard it on the news the other night. I was pretty surprised.”

  “Did she ever mention a guy named Gas or Gaston?”

  “No, other than the one comment about running into her ex, nothing remotely along those lines. Like I said, I never knew if it was a husband or a boyfriend or who she ran into. She never mentioned a name.” Marsha smiled and seemed to laugh at a private joke.

  “Something funny?”

  “I’m just thinking of Gaston in Beauty and the Beast, the Disney movie. It was one of my favorites as a kid. Gaston is the handsome, strong hero of the village and everyone wants to get him into their bed except Belle. Everyone thinks he’s so wonderful, but he turns out to be the real villain.”

  “Get him into their bed? I guess Disney’s changed from what I remember.”

  “Well, they sort of put the little girl spin on it, but we catch on a lot sooner than guys do. We have to.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Anyway, I really wish I had more to tell you. I don’t know if I helped, but Desi was really nice and she was especially nice to me. I’m gonna miss her.”

  “How so?”

  “Oh, nothing dramatic. I just needed my hand held and she did it. It was sweet. She didn’t want anything, didn’t ask for anything. She was just a nice person and she sure didn’t deserve what happened to her. I just wish I had that lightening bolt you mentioned. Sorry.” She gave a big shrug and a number of heads turned for a quick follow-up glance.

  “Marsha, I really appreciate your help. Here,” I said, pushing a card across the table. “You think of anything else give me a call, anything.”

  “I just wish I could help you out more,” she said.

  “I’ll buy the coffee next time,” I said as she stood up. Heads turned throughout the place. Mustache lady shook her head in disgust and appeared to make a side comment to her heavyset girlfriend.

  “You got a deal.” She smiled and held my eyes for a long moment.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I was on my way back from the bathroom, a little after two in the morning, making my way down the dark hallway. I’d been out with pals earlier and I was hoping to get back into bed before I fully woke up when the phone rang.

  “Yeah,” I answered cautiously. Anytime the phone rang after about ten at night it usually wasn’t to deliver good news.

  “Hi, Dev, hope I’m not getting you up,” a woman said then giggled at the inside joke. Her voice sounded familiar, but I didn’t know who it was. My phone displayed the number as ‘Unknown’.

  “No, no problem.”

  “I was wondering if you were maybe interested in getting together?” I had the sense she was concentrating on her words, trying not to slur them.

  I was awake at this point. “Sure, I’d like that. What did you have in mind?” I asked, thinking dinner, drinks. My nights were wide open for the rest of the week.

  “Great, I’m just leaving now so I could be over there in ten minutes. Well, I mean if you’re not already entertaining.”

  “I’m just cleaning up after the party. I should have it pretty much under control by the time you arrive,” I said, coming wide awake.

  “Okay, see you soon.” Click.

  There were a couple of women it could be, but I doubted it. I thought the first thing I should do was to put some clothes on.

  A few minutes later my phone rang again.

  I answered and heard giggling.

  “Hello.”

  “Oh, sorry, I’m so screwed up. I forgot to ask where you live. I’m just turning onto East Seventh now.”

  I gave her directions St. Paul-style. We don’t use a lot of street names or specific distances, we use landmarks. “Stay on Seventh to the Xcel Center, take a right and go up the hill. Left at the first light and drive past the Cathedral, then take a right on that corner. I’m a few blocks down on the right side. I’ll have the porch light on for you.”

  I had the porch light on with the living room light off. I was standing in the dark, watching the quiet street and waiting for a car to pull up so I could see who had called. So far, the only traffic had been a taxi cruising past about three minutes earlier.

  A few minutes later a car drove past, stopped two doors down, backed up and parked in front of my place. Marsha climbed out of the car wearing the same red top, a pair of jeans and her cowboy hat. I opened the front door just as she stepped onto my porch.

  “Hi, Marsha, thanks for calling. Come on in,” I said.

  She smiled and gave me a peck on the cheek while I held the door.

  “You weren’t doing anything, were you?”

  I could tell her I’d been in the bathroom or sound asleep, but neither one seemed conducive to furthering the direction I was hoping for. “No, no…you know, just up reading and thinking about maybe hitting the sack. Can I get you a little something?” I asked as we walked into the living room. Marsha made a beeline for my couch.

  “I’d have another shot of Cuervo. Cuervo Gold if you got any,” she said.

  “I think I do have some, but I’m all out of limes,” I said, walking into the kitchen. I grabbed the fifth of tequila out of the cupboard, and picked up a shot glass off the counter.

  I had an incident with tequila some years back and let’s just say it was no longer my poison of choice. Nonetheless, I did have a bottle of the stuff, and it was Cuervo Gold. I made it back to the living room in record time. Marsha had already settled into the corner of my couch, kicked off her sandals and looked to be settling in for a stay.

  “Nice digs, Dev. No offense, but I sort of figured you for a typical kind of slob guy. Umm, thanks. Wow, unopened,” she said as I set the bottle and shot glass down in front of her on the coffee table.

  “Sorry about no limes. You want some salt?”

  “No, don’t worry. You’re not going to join me?” she asked leaning forward in anticipation.

  “I have a tequila thing, so no, I better not. Plus, I’ve got an early morning meeting I can’t miss,” I lied.

  “Is it about Desi?” she asked, then poured a shot and tossed it down without blinking. It clearly wasn’t her first of the evening.

  “It may be. I’ll know more when I get out of the meeting.”

  She pushed her cowboy hat back then poured another shot. “I was thinking about her all the while I was dancing tonight. Did you hear from any of the other girls?”

  “No,” I said.

  She tossed down the shot and let out a satisfied little gasp a moment later. “I was thinking…you know you mentioned this guy from Beauty and the Beast and…well, I was thinking…”

  “Beauty and the Beast?”

  She waved her arm a little clumsily then poured another shot as she spoke. “Don’t you remember? Gaston, from Beauty & the Beast, the Disney movie. He’s the hero who’s really the villain. Remember? I told you al
l about him, I think.”

  “Oh yeah, of course. Jesus. How could I forget?”

  She nodded like she wasn’t surprised, then tossed her next shot back and gave another little satisfied gasp.

  “So?”

  “So I was thinking…maybe I could help you catch this dude.”

  “You’ve already been a big help, Marsha.”

  She shook her head while she poured another shot then inadvertently slammed the bottle down on the coffee table.

  “You’re not getting it. You’re not picking up what I’m putting down.” She giggled then quickly tossed the shot back, causing her cowboy hat to fall off. A little drip rolled down her chin and hung there for a moment until it became large enough that it fell onto her red top. She appeared completely unaware.

  “I’m a pretty slow learner. Maybe you could tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “We use my ass as the bait,” she slurred, then slid her glass onto the table and poured another shot. This time the glass overflowed and the tequila ran onto the table.

  “Whoopsie.” She giggled, then pushed the shot glass to the side, got down on her knees and proceeded to slurp the tequila off the top of the coffee table. As she sat up there was a larger tequila stain spreading across her top. Her eyes suddenly seemed to take on that glazed sort of stare where you’re not sure she was able to see past the tip of her nose.

  “So you were saying we use you as bait?”

  “No, my ass, Den. I’ve got a great ass, you know,” she said, then reached for the bottle and began to pour more tequila into the full shot glass.

  “Careful not to waste, Marsha,” I said gently taking the bottle from her.

  “Watch it, you’re spilling!” she said then downed the shot and tried to set the glass on the table. She knocked the glass over in the process and it sort of rolled in a large circle.

  I placed the bottle on the floor, out of her sight.

  “Hmm-mmm…” She watched the glass roll back and forth until it stopped.

  “So, your plan?”

  “I’ve got a great ass.”

  “Yes, you do, Marsha. And maybe you can tell me all about it in the morning, okay?”

  “Perfect, I can show you.” She giggled.

  “I’m gonna hit the lights in the kitchen and I’ll be right back.”

  She found the bottle I’d set on the floor and had poured some of the tequila into the shot glass. She’d poured a larger amount onto the coffee table. “I think I should have a little bitty night cap before you take me to bed,” she said, then dodged my reach and downed the shot before I could get it out of her hand.

  “Okay, but that’s going to be the last one. You’re going to have a pretty bad headache in the morning.”

  “Probably. Come on let’s get started.” She giggled.

  I helped her up the staircase and walked her into the bathroom.

  “Where’s the bed?” she asked, unbuckling her jeans and sitting down.

  “In the next room. I’ll wait for you in the hallway. Call me when you’re finished and I’ll help you.”

  “You’re so sweet,” she slurred.

  I knew where this was headed. She had maybe two minutes of life left in her and she was going to be in the bathroom for at least fifteen. I turned on the nightlight in the upstairs hallway then I got the guest bedroom prepared. I turned the bedside table lamp on, pulled the sheets back and placed an empty waste basket by the side of the bed.

  She didn’t call me. I just heard her fall down in the bathroom about ten minutes later. When I opened the door she was on all fours, giggling, with her jeans around her ankles. I rolled her over, pulled her jeans off then helped her into the guest bedroom where she more or less collapsed on the bed. I raised her up and she sat there, weaving with her eyes closed while I pulled her top over her head. As her top came off she fell backwards onto the bed with a smile on her face. I lifted her legs up onto the bed and pulled the covers up over her shoulders.

  “You want to be on top, Dave?” she slurred.

  I folded her jeans and the red top and placed them on the dresser. Marsha was already snoring as I turned off the lamp on the bedside table. I left the bathroom light on and then headed back to bed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next morning I returned what was left of the Cuervo Gold bottle to the cupboard and washed Marsha’s shot glass. The finish on the top of my coffee table had bubbled up from the spilled tequila and I attempted to wipe up the damage. The top of the table was ruined and would have to be stripped, sanded, restained and then refinished. Not the best start to the day or a tryst.

  Marsha was still upstairs asleep, so I made coffee and breakfast. I made myself a sandwich at lunchtime. After a while, I went upstairs to wake her. She was still sleeping soundly with her head under the pillow. I’d been in the same position myself once or twice, and I didn’t have the heart to wake her. So I just left her a note saying, ‘close the door on the way out and give me a call when you feel up to it’. Then I drove to the office.

  Louie wasn’t in when I arrived, but he’d been there. The coffee pot was empty, but the burner was still on and the office smelled like an electrical fire. I turned the burner off, opened a window and drummed my fingers on the desk, thinking about Marsha and the fact that no good deed seems to go unpunished. Louie huffed and puffed his way up the stairs and into the office about a half hour later.

  “Something burning?” he asked as he stood in the doorway and wrinkled his nose.

  “You left the burner on and the coffee pot empty.”

  “Oh.” He shrugged in a ‘that answers it’ sort of way like it was just a daily occurrence. “Still working the Desi thing?” he asked, then settled into his office chair and set his feet on the picnic table.

  “Right now I just seem to be eliminating options. Nothing at the Bremer Tower, that particular suite was empty or still empty. Spoke to neighbors where she used to live before she was convicted, nothing there. Spoke to a couple of co-workers at Nasty’s, but they didn’t have any information.” I didn’t feel the need to elaborate about Marsha. “I’ve still got to check with the people at Karla’s, but I’d be surprised if they were able to tell me anything.”

  “You talk to the rental people at the Bremer Tower or the maintenance staff?” Louie asked.

  “No, I probably should and will, but their testimony was in the case notes. They had no record of anyone being in that office suite.”

  “Sounds like that old movie with Robert Redford and Paul Newman…not Butch Cassidy. What the hell was it?”

  “The Sting?”

  “Yeah. They make that betting place look like the real deal, then fold it up and get out of town in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Seems like an awful lot of work,” I said.

  “Not when you consider the millions someone got from the Federal Reserve.”

  My phone rang, but I didn’t recognize the number.

  “Haskell Investigations.”

  “Dev, I am so sorry.”

  “Well, at least you got my name right. How’s the head, Marsha?”

  “God,” she groaned. “At first I was afraid I was going to die. Now I’m afraid I won’t.”

  “I guess there’s hope then.”

  “I’m not so sure,” she said. “Listen, Dev, I really, really apologize for the way I acted last night. At least the part I remember. You didn’t deserve that and I certainly didn’t help matters. I’m so sorry.”

  “Relax, it happens.”

  “I would still like to talk to you. I have an idea.”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with your really great ass, does it?”

  There was a pause before her groan. “Oh, God, I said that, didn’t I? I sort of halfway remember, but I was hoping I’d just dreamed it. I’m so, so sorry. Please give me a chance. I want to help.”

  I was thinking Marsha really wasn’t the kind of help I needed right now.

  “I know, I know, you’re p
robably thinking this isn’t the kind of help you really need right now, but just give me a chance. I promise no tequila ever again in my entire life.”

  “Okay, look, I’m at my office now. Can you make it down here later this afternoon?”

  “I’ll be there. Let me just grab a shower and get cleaned up.”

  “There are spare towels in that closet at the end of the hallway,” I said.

  “Actually, I’m at my place. I followed your directions and locked the door behind me when I left.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Is your office still at the address on this card?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll see you in an hour and I’m so sorry for everything. And, well, for what didn’t happen,” she said and then hung up before I could ask for a rain check.

  “Last night’s entertainment?” Louie asked.

  I told him the story, finishing up with Marsha’s half dozen apologies.

  “Well, you’re a better man than me. I would have sat there and finished the tequila with her.”

  “Not what I need to be doing right now. She said she’s gonna grab a shower and be here in about an hour.”

  “You believe that?” Louie asked.

  “Yeah, I’m sure she’ll feel better once she has a hot shower and just…”

  “No, I meant the hour part?” he said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Louie’s point was well taken. Marsha washed up on shore about two and a half hours later. Amazing what a hot shower and a couple hours of makeup can do to a hangover. She looked a lot better than anything I’d seen that day. She carried a bag stuffed with jelly-filled doughnuts from Wuollet’s Bakery and two large Starbucks coffees. Great breakfast fare, but unfortunately it was close to five in the afternoon.

  “What can I say? I’m in the entertainment business. We’re on a different clock than the rest of the world,” she said after I pointed her timing out to her. Louie already had the better part of a jelly doughnut crammed in his mouth.

  “I suppose I could take the doughnuts back, if you think that would help,” she said.

  “No, no, not a big deal these things are great. I love ‘em,” Louie said, then reached for another.