Bulldog (Dev Haskell - Private Investigator Book 9) (7 page)

“And what happens if they don’t pay?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think that ever happens.”

“How’d you like to make a hundred bucks, Freddy?”

“Maybe. What do I gotta do?” he sounded very cautious.

“I’d just like to have you take me around, see what the businesses are. You know get some ideas for myself.”

“See what the businesses are? They ain’t fancy, they’re just little joints.”

“I’d still like to see them, and its a hundred bucks.”

“Would we have to go inside?”

“No, just drive by, in fact if you want we could take my car. It blends in, no one would know you’re even there.”

“I don’t think Bulldog would be too happy about that if he found out.”

“So don’t tell him. Hundred bucks, Freddy just driving around for maybe an hour tops. It’s not like I’m gonna go in and talk to the people and I’m certainly not gonna tell Bulldog. I could pick you up, or better yet, we could just meet somewhere, early tomorrow morning. Get it done before anyone is even out of bed.”

“I ‘spose.”

“How about this, you know where my office is, right?”

Freddy nodded.

“You park on the next street over. Anyone sees your car you can just say you were watching me. I’ll drive you around, you can point out the places. All we’ll do is just drive past.”

“Think maybe I should wear a disguise?” Freddy asked sort of warming to my offer.

“If you want to do that, think it would help, sure, go ahead.”

He nodded and suddenly looked excited.

We finished our beers and Freddy left by the back door. He went back out the side gate, limped through the neighbor’s yard and then up the block. I tossed the clip from his pistol into a kitchen drawer.

Chapter Fourteen

I was parked on
the side street next to my office reading the paper in my car while I waited for Freddy. He was already twenty minutes late and I was beginning to worry he had blown off our get together and wouldn’t show.

I spotted him in my rear view mirror, limping down the street toward my car. The gauze over his ear was covered up by what looked like a five dollar black wig hanging down to his shoulders. I set the newspaper down to cover the .38 resting on my lap then watched him approach. Despite our little conversation and sharing a couple of beers last night, I didn’t trust the guy any further than I could throw him.

He knocked on the passenger window then opened the door and climbed in. “What do you think?” he asked then raised his eyes toward the top of his head to indicate the cheap wig. It looked like it was nylon or rayon or something, you could see an elastic band running across his forehead and there were a number of wispy strands statically clinging to his face. He exhaled sharply up toward his forehead in an effort to move the strands, but it only served to make more of them attach to his face.

“I think it’s perfect, and it covers your ear, good thinking.”

He smiled at that.

“You carrying, Freddy?” I asked.

“Well, yeah sort of.”

“Sort of?” I said.

“I got my pistol, but you took the clip last night and I don’t have another, so it ain’t really loaded.”

“Here’s that hundred bucks, maybe go and get yourself a new clip.” I said and handed him five crisp twenties.

“Actually, I was thinking of getting two and they’re like sixty bucks apiece,” he said then nodded and looked hopeful.

I ignored his price quote and said, “Let’s get a move on, where’s the first place?”

It turned out they were all over on the East side of town, a total of sixteen different commercial businesses, just little storefront, mom and pop type of operations. There were three places that did nails, a grungy coffee shop, a diner sort of joint, two convenience stores and a little hardware store. On and on it went, most of the businesses had bilingual signs posted in the front window, some in Spanish, some Asian, and one or two looked to be African.

The pattern was developing, people maybe not all that familiar with laws and rights we take for granted. Coming from societies where this sort of intimidation may have been the norm.

As he pointed out the various locations Freddy would make an off-handed comment regarding the payments. “That’s a hundred bucks, one-fifty there, those folks pony up close to two hundred a week.”

Over all, doing a rough calculation I figured the little protection racket brought in close to three grand a week, round it up to a hundred-and-fifty-grand a year paid out just to keep Bulldog from wrecking the place. And that was just the places Fat Freddy knew about. It wasn’t that big of a leap of faith to think a jerk like Bulldog would start out every day strong-arming people.

“And this all goes to Tubby?”

“Tubby? I don’t know anything about that. I’ve just been with Bulldog. ‘Course these are just the places I’ve been to, I’m sure they got more, maybe lots more,” he said that like it was a given, after all everyone did it, didn’t they?

“So back up a minute, Freddy. Bulldog never mentioned Tubby?”

“Hunh?”

“I asked you if all that money went to Tubby and you said you didn’t know.”

“I guess I never thought about it like that. Bulldog kinda pockets some cash, maybe, sometimes, then puts the rest in this black leather case he carries.” Freddy looked out the passenger window and sort of squirmed

“He takes some cash?”

“Well, maybe he skims a little off the top, I guess, kind of.”

“Think Tubby knows?”

“I don’t think so and no one is dumb enough to tell him.”

“Why not?”

“You kidding? First of all he wouldn’t believe it and even if he did, he would probably go right to Bulldog and ask him. Of course, Bulldog would say no and then he’d be wise someone told on him and then that guy would be dead.”

It sounded like a pretty black and white operating structure; ‘Tell the boss and I’ll kill you,’ simple as that.

“What if Tubby did believe, what if you had proof?”

“Proof? Like what? A video or something? That wouldn’t cut it and anyway by the time Tubby was convinced, well, Bulldog would have already killed you so it still wouldn’t work. It just seems to be best if I shut up. The last thing I need is that big prick Bulldog riding my ass more than he already is.”

“He’s pretty tough on you?”

“Let’s just say he doesn’t make it very easy and leave it at that.”

I wasn’t sure what, but I could sense the germ of an idea just beginning to percolate.

Chapter Fifteen

It was the fourth
night I’d been sleeping at Casey’s, and great as it was, I was beginning to get tired of my own company. I called Maureen to see if she’d like to come over and eat what was left of Dermot’s funeral food.

“Hello,” she always sort of drew that word out in a sexy sort of way, saying ‘Hell-lo’ like she was singing. It sounded happy, positive, up beat, and indicative of good things to come.

“Hi, Maureen, Dev Haskell.”

“I told you, I don’t want you calling me.”

“What?”

“You heard me. What part of
‘don’t ever call me again’
don’t you understand?”

“I thought you were kidding. I mean come on, it wasn’t that big a deal, was it, really?”

“Yeah, Dev, it was to me. Not showing up for my Mother’s birthday, telling me you had to work out of town.”

“I was out of town.”

“Yeah, that’s right, you were, shacked up with some floozy if I recall.”

“That might be a little harsh, I…”

“Hey, Dev, listen to this,” she said and hung up.

I called Karen and left a message. She sent a text message back that said she was blocking my number. I was losing interest fast so I phoned Heidi.

“Hi, Heidi.”

“Stop right there, if you are calling with a problem, need a ride or bail money, Do. Not. Even. Ask. Because I’m going to hang up.”

“Gee, nice way to start out. Are we having a bad day?”

“No, at least not up to this point. I’m just telling you, Dev, so don’t go there.”

“All right, apparently that’s what I get for wanting to ask you out. I guess I’ll just entertain myself if that’s the way you’re going to be.”

“You don’t want anything?”

“Maybe just a kiss and a hug, I sort of thought being in your company might be a nice way to spend the evening. God, sorry, my mistake.”

“Okay, okay, it’s just, well you know the last couple of times we’ve been together you always had an ulterior motive.”

“You can’t blame me for being attracted, Heidi. God, sorry I happen to think you’re beautiful and sexy.”

“Thanks, that’s sweet, but that’s not what I’m talking about. There was the bail I had to post last winter. The ride I had to give you when your car broke down.”

“That wasn’t my fault, those guys set my car on fire.”

“Yeah, and then I had to drive ninety miles to go get you and bring you back. Then the time you left me in the car when you got arrested and I ended up having to call a friend.”

“Because you took a selfie with the cop looking in the car window then laughed about it. He got really pissed off and I’m the guy who got hauled in.”

“Yeah and left me there in the middle of the night with no way to get home.”

“So are we going to go through every little mistake I’ve made or would you like to go out? I’ve got something you might like.”

“I’m not doing tequila shots again.”

“Not that, look remember my friends Dermot and Casey?”

“The guy who was murdered?”

“Yeah, I’m staying in their home, I just thought you might like to see it, you’re sort of into all that decorating stuff and it’s an 1890’s Victorian place. A lot of fancy woodwork, stained glass, antiques and that kind of junk. I figured you might find it interesting. They’ve got all sorts of shit.”

“God, all sorts of shit, how could I resist?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I think so. What time?”

“You name it, I’ll pick up dinner and if you want I’ll pick you up, too.”

“I’ll drive myself, Dev, that way I can ditch you when I get fed up.”

“What do feel like eating?”

“Chinese and pick up Dim Sum, too.”

“You got it.” I gave her the address, then I gave her very specific directions. Heidi’s really smart, but she was hiding behind the door when they were passing out a sense of direction. She’s lived in St. Paul all her life and she can still get lost going to a friend’s house. However, she does make up for it in other ways.

Chapter Sixteen

Heidi arrived in style,
Heidi style, forty-five minutes late. Not that it mattered, I planned on giving her a short tour of the house, we’d wolf down the takeout dinner, then get down to the real business, my immediate needs.

“Oh my God, this place is so cool,” she said when I opened the door. Then she brushed past me and wandered into the front parlor. “Oh I love it, and the wood work, the turned spindles. Did you notice the design pattern on the cedar shakes outside on the second floor?”

“What?”

“That figures,” she said and just shook her head.

I poured her a glass of wine in the paneled dining room with the sliding doors and built-in breakfront and we proceeded with our tour. From the dining room we went back into the front parlor with the fireplace and the stained-glass windows. We checked out the den where I’d been sleeping on the couch next to the three boxes of glazed fireplace tiles.

“I think it’s so cool they’re going to reinstall these tiles, they’re gorgeous. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah sure, whatever.”

“God, you are so completely hopeless. All your laundry piled up on that chair and scattered around the floor adds a nice, homey touch. Here, get me another glass of wine and let’s check out the second floor.”

She spent ten minutes getting up close and personal with the staircase, “Get out of the way, Dev, here hold my wine glass I want to take some more pictures,” she said handing me the glass and then shooing me out of the way.

It dawned on me that I’d only been upstairs a couple of times and that was just to carry clothes out to Casey’s car. “I think there are four bedrooms up here,” I said leading the way. Heidi wandered into the master bedroom, took about a dozen more pictures of that fireplace, then more pictures of the small dressing room next to that.

“Look at this, Dev, you can still see where there was some sort of stove in here for heat that’s what that round plate is up on the wall. The chimney’s behind that and the stove pipe used to connect right up there.”

I nodded, sipped some more beer and said, “Amazing.”

Heidi just shook her head like she couldn’t believe it. We walked down the hallway, to a back bedroom. Two steps led down into the room.