by Mike Faricy
“You checked yourself out,” I said getting back on track.
“Yeah, I’m lying there, asleep in my room and suddenly someone’s shaking my shoulder. I’m thinking it’s one of those nurses, you know how they wake you up and check your blood pressure and shit? Sometimes I think they were just doing it to mess me up.”
I nodded like it would be perfectly logical for a nurse to come around in the middle of the night to mess a patient up.
“So, I’m opening my eyes, coming awake and all of a sudden this hand goes over my mouth, it kinda tasted like barbeque sauce, course it’s that butthead, Dallas.”
“Dallas?”
“He’s one of the bouncers at Nasty’s. He’s the same jerk that sucker punched me in the parking lot, then once I was down the rest of those twats came out of nowhere and it was open season on your boy.”
“He was in your hospital room?”
“Yeah, way past visiting hours by the way, I mean it was after midnight. Anyway, the jerk puts his grimy hand over my mouth then said he’s got a little something for me and tosses my car keys on the table. Kind of laughs then tells me thanks for the ride.”
“He says that, ‘thanks for the ride’?”
“That ain’t all,” Freddy said, then grabbed the last slice of pizza out of the delivery box. “He says, you know what’s good for you, you won’t be talking to the cops. We hear anything and you’re dead.”
“That doesn’t sound too promising.”
“You’re telling me,” he said then rolled the pizza slice up and stuffed the entire thing into his mouth.
“What are you going to do?”
He pointed to his mouth, his cheeks looked like a chipmunk storing nuts, bulging while he attempted to chew. Finally he said, “Hey, those dudes fucked with black beauty, that ain’t on, man. It was my statement, who I was.”
“Your brand,” I added.
“Exactly, man, I just can’t have it. Hey, you gonna put those other two pizzas in?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Freddy slept in the same chair Louie had crashed in the other night. He said he didn’t feel safe going back to his apartment and I sure didn’t feel like driving him anywhere, so he spent the night.
I shook him awake before the work crew arrived and had him take a much needed shower. None of Dermot’s clothes and certainly none of mine were going to fit him so I drove him over to Menard’s, a DIY and construction store that carried everything from paint to lumber and plumbing supplies. They also carried some basic articles of clothing like jeans and shirts. We walked out of there with a pair of jeans, socks, boxers and a half dozen T-shirts for under forty bucks.
“Can’t thank you enough for helping me out, Dev. Kinda like that movie, you know.”
“What movie’s that?”
“The Grandfather.”
“The grand…, you mean the Godfather?”
“Yeah, I think that’s the one.”
“Look, Freddy, you’re going to need some wheels if you plan to get back on your feet. I’ve got access to another car for a couple of days. You could use this one maybe till the end of the week if that would help you out.”
He sort of snickered then said, “That’s righteous, man. No offense, Dev, but whatever your driving here isn’t exactly the sort of statement I want to make.”
“It’s a Saturn Ion, 2003,” I bragged. With Fat Freddy in the front seat the car was pulling decidedly to the right and the engine seemed to groan every time I attempted to accelerate.
“I’m just hoping no one I know sees me in this thing, I’ve got a reputation, you know.”
“Yeah about that, Freddy, your rep. I’m thinking it might not be a bad idea to lay a little low for awhile.”
“We’ll see, I got some things cooking,” Freddy said then gazed out the window signaling the conversation wasn’t going to go much further.
“Well, you better come up with some sort of alternative plan. They fired you from Nasty’s, so you’re gonna need a job. You don’t have a vehicle and you’re afraid to go back to your apartment. What else am I missing?”
“I think there’s a warrant or two out for my arrest?”
“A warrant or two?”
“Just a misunderstanding, well and a bunch of parking tickets.”
“What’s the misunderstanding?”
“Some petty kind of bullshit about me assaulting a guy, it’s nothing.”
“Assaulting a guy?”
“My landlord. I didn’t know it at the time, but that worthless piece of shit turns out to be some sort of shirt-tail relative of someone in the City Attorney’s office. Makes the guy think he can jack me around. I sort of fell behind just a little on my rent.”
“How little?”
“Only a couple of months, I told that asshole I was good for it, but he wouldn’t listen, which really pissed me off. Then, when he pad locked the door to my apartment I’d had it and went downstairs to educate the man.”
“And did you?”
“Yeah, but at the time I didn’t know there were witnesses. Anyway, that’s sort of another reason I can’t go back to my place, the cops are probably looking for me.”
“So, if for some reason you get stopped by the police, they’re most likely going to haul you in.”
“Well, yeah, but I don’t plan on being stopped.”
“There you go then, problem solved.”
Freddy nodded.
I dropped him off back at Casey’s house to watch TV while I went down to the office. I got a text from Casey around noon; ‘All well here, having a great time’.
I replied with; ‘All well up here, stay safe.’ Then held my breath in the event she was on one of her texting benders, thankfully she didn’t reply.
I was back at Casey’s house towards the end of the day. The contractors had all left and Freddy greeted me with a loud belch then said, “Hey, you’re out of beer and pizza, man.” Once he made that statement he returned to watching some sort of reality show.
I went back out the door and purchased those two necessities. I tossed two of the pizzas I’d purchased into the oven and called Freddy twenty minutes later. It was like calling a puppy. “Freddy, dinner, Freddy.”
He waddled into the kitchen a moment later smiling and wearing his new jeans. He’d taken the metal splint off his nose, but there were still traces of adhesive on his cheeks. His nose didn’t look all that great. It was sort of a pasty gray color where it wasn’t still black and blue and had taken on a sort of sagging shape like it was considering just falling off his face.
I had three slices of pizza for dinner, Freddy ate the remaining six slices from that pizza then devoured the entire second pizza all by himself.
“Mmm-mmm, really good man. You got any ice cream?”
“I think there’s some in the freezer, check it out,” I said and nodded toward the refrigerator.
Freddy slid off his stool, pulled the bottom freezer drawer open and studied the contents. “You got a preference, looks like vanilla or some butter pecan shit.”
“I’ll take a pass, none for me,” I said.
“Suit yourself,” he said, then grabbed one of the containers out of the drawer. He took a spoon from the silverware tray and sat back down. He tore the lid off and proceeded to eat directly out of the ice cream container. “Hey, man, think you could give me a lift later tonight?”
“Yeah, I suppose, as long as it’s not too late.”
“I’m thinking around ten, is that too late?”
“We going far?”
“No, maybe five, six minutes away is all. I won’t need a ride back.”
“Yeah, I can do that,” I said.
“Thanks, man, I think I’m gonna relax and catch some tube,” he said then walked into the den with the ice cream.
Freddy called from the den a couple of hours later. “Dev, can you still give me a lift?”
I’d been sitting at the kitchen counter and had just sent an email to Casey telling her everything was okay
and to relax and enjoy the Big Easy.
“Yeah, sure, let me just grab my keys,” I said, then logged off and headed out the front door.
Freddy was waiting for me on the porch with a baseball bat.
“What’s with that?” I asked.
“Got a pal on a softball team, he plays for his church, they got some league competition or something this weekend. He wanted to borrow my bat so I told him I’d get it over to him.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
I wasn’t sure why we had to get Freddy’s softball bat over to his pal this late at night, but on the other hand if it got Freddy out of the house it was worth the effort. The ride over to his pal’s house was more like fifteen minutes and other than the occasional direction Freddy wasn’t talking.
“That’s it up there,” he finally said as I came round the corner. “Just drop me off behind that pickup parked on the street, that’ll be perfect.”
I pulled up behind a large black pickup truck. It sported one of those rebel flag rear window graphic things. Giant chrome-lined mud flaps with the silhouette of a naked woman hung behind the large, dual rear tires. Chrome letters spelled out F-350 4x4 across the rear. A black and white bumper sticker read ‘Protected by Smith and Wesson’.
“God, sweet ride, that baby’s a Diesel V8. It’ll blow anyone away in seconds,” Freddy said
We were in the Midway district of St. Paul and the homes up and down the block looked to have been built in the 1920’s. The pickup was parked in front of one of the less-attractive structures on the street. A story-and-a-half wood frame house with peeling-white clapboard siding, faded green trim, a dilapidated front porch and a sagging roof. There was an old upholstered couch sitting on the porch that looked like it had been through one too many rain storms. A dim light drifted out from the front room and through the window you could see a TV was on.
“Thanks, Dev, not sure when I’ll be back. Appreciate all you’ve done, you’ve been a big help.”
“Not a problem, Freddy, give me a call tomorrow if you need a lift.”
Freddy smiled and climbed out, then closed the door and gave a quick wave as he walked across the small front yard and up the steps. He rang the doorbell then turned and faced me. I waited for a pair of headlights approaching in my side mirror to pass by before I pulled away from the curb. As the car drove past I gave a quick glance back at Freddy.
A large guy with a shaved head and a snarl on his face was just opening the front door. I watched as Freddy stabbed the end of the baseball bat into the guy’s solar plexus then grabbed him by his T-shirt and yanked him out onto the porch. He slammed the bat up into the guys chin causing his head to snap back. The poor bastard attempted to raise his arms in a sort of defensive position, but Freddy wound up and gave a low, full force swing into the guy’s knee with the bat.
I couldn’t hear the crack, but it looked like the knee completely snapped. He half rolled and attempted to crawl off the porch as Freddy stepped over him and with all his three-hundred-and-fifty-plus pounds stomped on the guy’s back then held him in place with his foot. He slammed the bat into the guy’s right hand then adjusted his swing and nailed the left hand to the porch floor. As the guy lifted his head to scream Freddy kicked him so hard in the side of the head that he rolled over.
I was in the process of getting out of my car as Freddy reached down and tore the front pocket of the guy’s shorts open, then stood up and triumphantly brandished a set of keys. He stepped over the motionless figure lying on the porch floor and walked back toward me. The entire assault couldn’t have taken more than fifteen seconds.
“What the hell do you think your doing? Are you insane?”
“Meet Dallas,” Freddy said thrusting a thumb over his shoulder. He hurried past me and tossed the baseball bat into the back of the pickup truck. “I told you, once they screwed with black beauty they were gonna pay.”
“But, Jesus Christ, did you kill him?”
“No, unfortunately, but he ain’t gonna be chasing me or anyone else for that matter, probably ever again. Appreciate you doing this for me, Dev. I’ll be in touch,” he said then pushed a button on the keys and the pickup’s lights blinked. “Always nice talking to you, Dallas,” he called, then climbed into the pickup and drove away.
I started across the lawn toward the figure lying halfway down the front steps. Suddenly the porch light came on next door, curtains on a side window twitched as a woman stared out and the front door began to open. I panicked and hurried back into my car and quickly pulled away with my lights off. I screeched around the first right turn, flicked on my lights and slowed down. I took the long way back to Casey’s and constantly checked for someone following me, I never spotted anyone.
I parked in Casey’s garage then hurried to the back door, looking left and right across her backyard with every other step. I quickly closed the door behind me, locked it then proceeded to turn all the lights on throughout the first floor. I double checked to make sure both the front and back doors were locked then pulled a bottle of Jameson down from the cupboard and poured a healthy amount into a glass. I didn’t waste any time getting an ice cube.
I drifted off to sleep well after midnight, or did I just pass out? The following morning I was aware of the contractors working for a good while before I crawled off the couch. The Jameson bottle was empty and lay on its side underneath the coffee table. My empty glass sat on the end table next to the .38. The ceiling light and both lamps were still on in the den. I tucked the .38 in my belt, pulled my T-shirt out to cover the gun and made my way to the bathroom.
Even though it was a cloudy day I was wearing sunglasses on my way to work. I bought a newspaper from the machine on the corner then climbed upstairs to the office. Louie was at his desk.
“Out till the wee hours were we?” Louie asked as I threw the newspaper on my desk and made my way to the coffee pot.
“No, I never left the house. Stayed in all night doing some research on the internet,” I said, then hurried back to my desk without looking at him.
I opened the paper and read the headlines on the front page then quickly paged through the entire paper, scanning page after page looking for an assault report or worse, a murder. I couldn’t find anything.
I was aware Louie would look up and study me from time to time, then go back to the files spread out across his picnic table. Finally he said, “Dev, is everything all right?”
“Yeah, sure, just fine. Why?”
“I don’t know you just seem sort of jumpy or something.”
“No, no, everything’s just fine. No problems.”
“You’re sure.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.
“Okay, ‘cause if there was something wrong you could tell me, you know.”
“Louie, relax everything’s fine, just thinking some stuff through is all, no problem.”
“Okay. Casey all right?”
“Yeah, I’ve gotten a couple of text messages from her, sounds great. I sent her an email late last night, told her to have a good time and just relax. I can only hope she’ll take that advice to heart.”
Louie nodded and studied me for a long moment then said, “I’m sure she will.”
I’d calmed down by mid-afternoon. I was taking my time driving home and listening to the news reports on a couple of different stations. I didn’t pick up anything regarding Freddy’s assault on Dallas. It looked like we were in the clear.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Haskell Investigations,” I said. I was fumbling with the backdoor key trying to get it into the lock while at the same time juggling a new bottle of Jameson and my cellphone.
The audible snap of a wad of gum coming through my phone launched my heart up into my throat. “Haskell, Detective Manning, how are you?”
“Just fine, thanks,” I said, then got the door unlocked and stepped inside. I locked the door again as soon as it closed then glanced out the window just to make sure Manning wasn’t lurking in the bushes.
“Say, your name came up this afternoon,” Manning said.
“Was the chief suggesting me as your replacement?”
“Don’t get your hopes up. No, seems there was a spot of trouble last night over in the Midway district, an assault, pretty brutal.”
“Sorry to disappoint, Detective, but I wouldn’t know a thing about something like that. As a matter of fact, I was home all night working on my computer. I think I was online until close to ten, sent a final email off then I had a nightcap and crawled into bed.”
“Amazing, you sound like the picture of responsibility.”
“That would be me.”
“You sent that email on your computer I suppose.”
“No, Manning, I used smoke signals, it’s so much more fun. Yeah, I sent it on my computer.” I was thinking tech probably wasn’t Manning’s strong suit.
“What OS are you on?” he asked.
“OS?” I thought he was making a joke about some new kind of street drug.
“OS, it stands for operating system, Haskell it’s the working brains of your computer. What is it Windows XP? God it couldn’t be, probably more like 7, 8 or 8.1.”
“I’m not sure.”
“You a MAC guy, MAC 10 ring any bells?”
“I don’t actually know. To tell you the truth, I just turn the thing on and most of the time it works.”
“And you were on last night around ten?”
“Yeah, I was looking at some stuff then sent an email to a friend down in New Orleans.”
“I wonder if you’d consider bringing that in here so we could maybe take a look.”
“Take a look at my computer?”
“Yes, it wouldn’t take us but a couple of minutes to verify the time of your activity and then you could be on your way.”
“I suppose, if you really want me to, what time would you like me down there?”
“Actually, Haskell, if you’re willing to come in, I’m not really interested in seeing you.”
“Okay, anything else?”
“No unfortunately, can’t thank you enough for your time,” he said then snapped his wad of gum and hung up.