Bulldog (Dev Haskell - Private Investigator Book 9)

by Mike Faricy

  On the drive over to Casey’s house I was practicing different ways to tell her that I thought the same guy who killed Dermot, namely Bulldog, was trying to kill her. I wasn’t coming up with a nice way to say it. On the way I stopped at Solo Vino and picked up a bottle of sparkling white wine thinking that couldn’t hurt. I arrived at Casey’s a lot sooner than I wanted.

  She was talking to two guys in the front parlor while she held color swatches up against the wall. They were nodding in agreement to whatever she’d just said. She turned and gave me a smile as I came in the front door then said, “Give us a couple of minutes, Dev. I’ll see you in the kitchen.”

  That was just fine with me. I walked back to the kitchen, set out two wine glasses, opened the bottle, filled the glasses and tried to practice my lines, it still wasn’t working. I heard the front door close and a moment later I heard Casey’s footsteps coming through the dining room.

  “Oh, Dev, what a surprise, isn’t that sweet. You are just so nice. What’s the occasion?”

  “I think someone’s trying to kill you,” I blurted out.

  She stood there in shock for a long moment just staring at me.

  “What?”

  “I’ve been doing some checking, I don’t think it was an accident the other night, that guy that broadsided you.”

  She sort of slumped onto a kitchen stool and just stared at her wine glass with a numb look on her face.

  “Let me explain,” I said.

  She looked at me, but I wasn’t sure she actually saw me, she seemed in shock.

  “Casey?”

  “Dev, if you’re trying to be funny that is the most awful thing anyone has ever done to me in my entire life.”

  “Believe me, I’m not finding anything funny about this.”

  She closed her eyes and slowly shook her head from side to side.

  “You started me thinking when I drove you to your brother’s after the accident. You said something about a black car.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I heard about a criminal kind of guy who was beaten up and robbed. Whoever did it put him in the hospital.”

  She had a look on her face like this wasn’t making any sense, but didn’t say anything.

  “Anyway, his car was stolen. I’m pretty sure, well in fact I know it’s the same car that was driving past your house that night you called me.”

  “The same car?”

  “Yeah. He was assaulted, his car was stolen and then it was found torched down along the river early yesterday morning. The thing had been in an accident. I think whoever stole his car was following you, cut through that parking lot and came around and broadsided you. The fact that you jumped the car forward most likely saved your life. Then the driver took off and well, torched the car to destroy any of the evidence.”

  “And you know this for certain?” she said then gulped down about half her glass of wine.

  “I know the same guy who was creeping you out the night you first called me was assaulted and had his car stolen. I know that car was involved in an accident and I know the same car was set on fire down along the river.”

  “Did you tell the police?”

  “Actually they told me about the car, they confirmed it by the vehicle id number.”

  “And who owns it,” she shook her head suggesting things weren’t making sense then gulped more wine like that might help.

  “Well, I sort of know the guy, know of him I guess.”

  “And he was assaulted, you said?”

  “Yeah, he’s in Regions right now. He’s gonna be okay, I went and visited him and…”

  “What?” she screamed.

  “He’s in Regions, they beat him up pretty bad so he’ll probably be there for a couple more days.”

  “You went and visited him? This, this maniac who was stalking me? Is he the bastard who shot Dermot?” she screamed.

  “No Casey, he didn’t have anything to do with that, I don’t think.”

  “You don’t think, Dev, Dermot is dead, he’s not coming back. Do you know that? Do you even fucking understand? Does anyone? He is not coming back. He is not going to walk in that door and kiss me tonight. I’ll never hear him laugh, ever again. He is not coming back,” she said then a tear rolled down her cheek and she started to cry.

  I let her sit there and cry for a long moment, hoping she’d just get it out of her system. I wanted to hold her, but I didn’t think she’d accept that just now. Finally I said, “I know all that, Casey. God, do I ever know it. I’m trying to find out who is responsible. I’m trying to help the cops. I’ve been in touch with them every day and they, or rather we, are doing everything we possibly can to find who is responsible. And when we find them and we will, they’ll be arrested.”

  She raised her head up slowly and looked at me, then rubbed her hand under her nose and sniffled. “Arrested? You’re going to have them arrested?”

  “Casey, look, I’m telling you all this because you are in danger, too. I don’t know why. I don’t know what caused any of this, but I’m trying and the police are trying. We’re all working very hard to find out what in the hell is going on. Right now, the most important thing we can do is get you in a safe place.”

  “I’m at Tommy’s.”

  “That’s right and the other night you thought you were being followed.”

  “But the car turned?”

  “I think he went through the parking lot, circled the building and smashed into your car. You can’t stay at Tommy’s. We need to get you out of town, the sooner the better.”

  “But the house?” she said and sort of looked around.

  “The house will be fine. I’ll stay here, right now I’m worried about you. You have somewhere you could go, someplace out of town?”

  “Ahhh, a girlfriend in Chicago, but I think she’s out of town now. Umm, an old collage roommate down in New Orleans, I guess.”

  “Can you call her?”

  “Yeah, I suppose I can, but?”

  “Call her, tell her you got a chance to get away and you want to visit. You got cash?”

  “A little, but, Dev, this is crazy.”

  “Look, I’ll buy the ticket, you call her, now. I’m calling the airline maybe there’s something out of here yet today.”

  “Today?”

  “Call her, Casey,” I said and pulled my cell out to call the airline. It turned out there was a 7:30pm flight to Atlanta and then a hop to New Orleans. Eight hundred bucks and it wasn’t even direct. Casey was on the phone to her former roommate.

  “I know it just sort of happened all of a sudden,” she was saying into her phone as she looked over at me.

  I nodded and said, “You’ll get in at 12:30am, I’m booking it now.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “I don’t know, I still think this is just crazy,” Casey said.

  I was about to merge into the main terminal entrance. We’d just passed the sign on the freeway that always said there was an amber alert and to contact authorities if you saw any suspicious activity. It was five o’clock, peak rush hour, but we were still a good twenty minutes ahead of schedule.

  “You left Tommy a note?” I asked.

  “Yeah, and I’ll call him as soon as I get through security.”

  “Just tell him you’re going on a whim and you needed to get out of town.”

  “They’ll probably be glad to see me go. You know how it is with a houseguest after a few days.”

  “I’ll keep you posted, call me whenever and as often as you like. You think of anything, Casey no matter how insignificant it might seem you call me.”

  “Okay, okay,” she said as I pulled into the departure drop off area in front of the Delta door.

  “You stay safe down there, and just relax. You need anything communicated to the contractor just let me know and I…”

  “I’ve got his number, Dev,” she said and opened the passenger door. She pulled her suitcase out of the back seat and set it on the curb. She closed the r
ear door then leaned back into the front seat and stared at me for a long moment. “Sorry if I yelled earlier. I know you’re just trying to keep me safe. Just one more thing,”

  “Sure, you name it, Casey.”

  “That arrest. It doesn’t work for me, Dev. I want that bastard killed. It’s what he did to Dermot, it’s what he deserves.”

  Casey, I don’t think…”

  “I am so not kidding. I want that bastard killed, Dev. I don’t want him arrested. I don’t want him to go to trial. I want him to be dead. He doesn’t deserve to live. Dead. Promise me.” She said and then just stared at me with very cold eyes.

  “I’ll see what I can do, Casey.”

  “I’m not fucking around, Dev,” she said very softly, leaving no doubt, then she slammed the car door and stormed into the airport.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I had nightmares throughout the night. I couldn’t really remember what any of them were about and maybe that’s a good thing. I woke well before the work crew arrived and decided to just get up and get dressed. I was drinking coffee in the kitchen when they arrived. I was seated at the kitchen counter reading the text message from Casey that came through last night letting me know she’d arrived safe and sound.

  I left the house a little after eight and took a detour on the way to my office stopping in at Regions Hospital. The couple of times I’d been there made the path back to Freddy’s room seem not so convoluted. I walked past the nurse’s station and into his room with a wise guy greeting on the tip of my tongue. The room was empty, the cheap glass vase on the window sill was gone, the bed was stripped and Freddy was nowhere to be found.

  I went out to the nurse’s station. A man and a woman were seated behind the counter in blue hospital scrubs. Both of them held clipboards on their laps and had stethoscopes wrapped around their necks.

  “Hi, what can I do for you?” the guy said to me.

  “I’m looking for Freddy Zimmerman, it looks like he’s been moved to another room.”

  “Oh no, sorry,” the woman said. “Mr. Zimmerman checked himself out very early this morning.”

  “Checked himself out? Was he okay to go?”

  “We didn’t think so,” she said. “But we can’t force people to stay. He wanted to leave, so he left.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Just a little after three.”

  “A little after three? In the morning?”

  She nodded and said, “Yup.”

  “Is that normal?”

  “Nothing’s really normal on this wing. He was dressed, told us he was leaving and then just walked out.”

  “Do you know where he went?”

  “Down that hall,” she said then pointed and smiled.

  I glanced down the hall at the wheeled cart with a number of breakfast trays stacked on it. A woman dressed in white was carrying one of the trays into a room. The tile floors were so highly polished you could watch her mirror-like reflection as it drifted out of sight.

  “Was there anything else, sir?”

  “No, thanks for the update,” I said and walked down the hall.

  I’d been back in the office accomplishing absolutely nothing when Louie waltzed in. “You got the coffee on?”

  “It’s about the only positive thing I’ve accomplished in the past twenty-four hours.”

  “That’s better than some days,” he said then went over and poured himself a cup. He settled into his chair, took a sip then studied me.

  “Heidi dump you again?” he asked.

  “No, she didn’t dump me, and for your information we’re not even in a relationship. Well, the occasional get together, but we’re free to date other people.”

  “Okay, so what’s up?”

  I went over and poured myself a fresh cup of coffee then proceeded to bring Louie up to speed. I told him about Casey’s accident, Freddy’s car, Casey fleeing the saintly city and Freddy disappearing.

  “Man, you have managed to screw up a number of people’s lives in a very short amount of time.”

  “Me? I’m just helping out.”

  “Yeah, sure that’s what you’ve been doing. Just a thought here, Dev. Do you remember your visit to Jackie Van Dorn where you end up assaulting your new best friend, Fat Freddy? Then, you told the bouncer’s at Nasty’s that Freddy was supposed to let them know Bulldog and Tubby had sent you over to mind Swindle Lawless. You questioned Swindle about Bulldog. I don’t know, just a wild guess here, but do you think some wigged out psychopath like Bulldog or even Tubby for that matter might start putting two and two together and take matters into their own hands? Maybe try and beat someone half to death or kill them with a stolen car?”

  “You make it sound like everything that happened is my fault.”

  “Well?”

  “What do you mean, well? What did I do?”

  “When you look at it from another point of view, I’d say you’ve done just about everything you shouldn’t have done. That assault on Fat Freddy, think that might have been a message to you?”

  “A message? To me?”

  “Then the hit and run.”

  He had me thinking.

  “Sounds like the one bright thing you’ve done was to get that girl out of town. What did your friend Lieutenant LaZelle have to say?”

  “He told me not to call him again unless I’d been murdered, in which case I wouldn’t be able to call and he could get on with his work.”

  Louie smiled and said, “Maybe follow his advice.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I was pondering my next move later that night in front of the flat screen. I was only half watching the movie about wives getting revenge on their cheating husbands. It was supposed to be a comedy, but I wasn’t in the laughing mood. I’d already forgotten the title and didn’t seem to have the energy to push the off button on the remote. It was close to midnight and I had most of the lights turned on throughout the first floor of Casey’s house. I was drinking a beer and my .38 was sitting on the end table, nestled in between the four bottles I’d already finished.

  At first I thought it might have been the radiators then realized it was summer and the heat wasn’t on. I heard the noise again, a sort of soft knock coming from the kitchen area. I set my beer down, grabbed the .38 and walked to the back of the house. I turned off the dining room light and then the kitchen light so I would be entering a dark room. I let my eyes adjust for a moment then slowly crouched down and moved along the kitchen counter.

  I heard the noise again, it definitely sounded like a knock on the back door. I peaked around the side of the kitchen counter out through the window. There was a fairly large guy out there, slightly illuminated by the new motion detector lights attached to the side of the house. His back was to me and he seemed to be twitching and glancing around nervously. He turned, put his hands up against the kitchen window and tried to peer into the darkened room. Fat Freddy.

  I watched him for a long moment. Long enough that the motion detector light went off and he just stood out there in the dark. He seemed to be alone. When Freddy stopped looking in the kitchen window I moved toward the back door.

  “What do you want?” I said through the closed door. I was standing off to the side and still crouched just in case he started shooting.

  “Haskell? Jesus Christ, open the damn door and let me in, I’m getting eaten alive out here.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Will you, come on for Christ sake, ouch, damn it. God these things are going crazy, come on man, open up.”

  I opened the door, stepped back and trained the .38 on Freddy nose. “Get in here and close the door behind you.”

  “God, it’s about damn time, I was, oh what the hell, put that damn thing away,” he said and closed the door behind him. I could suddenly hear the high pitch of mosquito’s as they swarmed in with him.

  “Where’s the damn light switch,” he said and started moving one of his paws up and down along the wall. He found th
e switch and turned on the light. His face was partially hidden by the splint on his nose. He was dressed in the jeans and T-shirt I’d seen hanging in his hospital room. Both pieces of clothing were caked with blood and the legs of his jeans had been torn off where the knees had ripped making a rather odd pair of shorts. One leg on the shorts extended about three inches longer than the other.

  “You got something to eat, man. I’ve been walking and haven’t had a thing all day.”

  “What the hell are you doing, Freddy? Why in God’s name did you leave the hospital?” I said then flipped on the light in the kitchen. “Come on, we’ll see what I’ve got to eat.”

  Freddy settled onto one of the kitchen stools and I heard the thing creak as his weight oozed across the seat. “How ‘bout a beer for starters?” I said opening the refrigerator.

  “Now you’re talking,” he replied.

  I took two beers out of the fridge, a pizza delivery box and then a white Styrofoam container that I think Heidi had left about a week ago. I opened the beers and slid one across the plywood topped counter to Freddy. He had already dug into the pizza box and was in the process of inhaling a very large piece. I opened the Styrofoam container, took one look and tossed the thing into the trash. I turned on the oven, took two frozen pizzas out of the freezer and began to unwrap them. “Soon as that oven heats up, I’ll toss these in.”

  Freddy nodded and attacked another piece out of the delivery box.

  “So, you checked yourself out of Regions.”

  “Had to, man,” he said then stuffed the better part of an entire piece in his mouth and chewed.

  “At three in the morning?”

  “How’d you know that,” he said then wiped his hands back and forth across his disgustingly filthy T-Shirt.

  “I went down there to check on you, one of the nurses told me.”

  “The blonde with that little tattoo?”

  “She was blonde, but I didn’t notice any tattoo.”

  “Little heart thing on her wrist. Not much of one, I mean why even bother if that’s all you’re getting?”