The Devil's Dwelling (2 page)

Peewee introduced me as one of his Bounty Hunter‘s. Hell, I’m his only Bounty Hunter.

“You got the job. I’m going to team you up with Tiffany. Tiffany is starting on a new case and you might as well start with her.”

I looked over at Mona wondering what I was getting into. “Let’s be up front. I work and work hard at my job and I expect the same from you. You get where I’m coming from?”

Mona gave me an affirmative nod.

“I’m out of here.”  Intimated by the gorgeous blonde I threw my handbag strap across my shoulder and  headed for the door. Mona didn’t make a move. I stopped short of the door and turned to Mona.

“Hey, Honey we are on the clock let‘s get with it.”

“You want me to go with you now?”  Mona’s mouth dropped open, her eyes bugged out.

“No better time than now. Where are you parked?”

“I walked here I don’t have wheels.” Mona said as she grabbed her bag, her clicking stiletto heels followed me out the door.

I stopped in my tracks, looked back and put my hands on my hips and shook my head from side to side. “You wanna be a Bounty Hunter and you don’t have a rig? Did I hear you right?”

Mona‘s head dropped. “The ‘Repo’ man picked it up a few days ago. It’s a long story.”

I felt like an idiot. I thought, Tiffany you need to be a little more sensitive.

“Hop in my Blazer it will do for both of us for now. We’ll work on getting you some wheels. For now it‘s the Blazer as long as the brakes hold up.”

The Martin’s home is backed up to an upscale neighborhood on a busy street east of town. Maxine runs a Massage Parlor out of the home.  Working three to four girls she keeps the neighborhood in an uproar with the coming and going of men at all hours. The home is zoned for commercial use. The twelve City Council male members didn’t hesitate to change the zoning from residential to commercial for Maxine. The story goes, majority of the council members frequent Maxine‘s massage tables. Town folk are under the opinion the city council members showed a bit of prejudice with their vote.

We knocked at Maxine’s door. A young lady with long red hair, dressed in black fishnet stockings, a mini skirt and halter top greeted us.

“Hi, I’m Natasha.”  She said before she looked up at us. The perky smile dropped from her face. “ I thought you were my appointment?” 

“No, we are here to see Maxine.”

“Maxine got a phone call and was out the door a few minutes ago.” She said standing behind the door with her head protruding around.

“Did she say where she was going?”

“No, she’s pretty much ‘mums the word’ on her comings and goings.”

A balding man in his fifties came up the walkway looking from side to side. I’m sure hoping not to be seen. The young lady with long red hair stepped from behind the door pushed us aside and took the gentleman by the hand, pulled him through the door way and slammed the door in our face.

Mona motioned toward the street. “Have you noticed that black sedan with tinted windows circling the block since we’ve been here?”

I’m impressed Mona is on the ball. She must have some kind of experience in detective work.  I thought to myself.

“You done this kind of work before?”

I asked as we were stepping in the Blazer.  Before she could answer the black sedan came screeching around the corner.  I saw the barrel of a big gun sticking out the passenger side window.  I yelled for Mona to duck when an array of  bullets zinged through the back window and out the front  passenger side window. I threw the Blazer in gear and headed in hot pursuit for the sedan. I yelled to Mona to buckle up while I snapped my buckle.

“You hit?”

“No blood, guess not. But I got the crap scared out of me.”

“You can change your pants later. Hold on.”

Mona was picking glass from her hair as we raced through downtown running red lights, sliding around corners and bouncing off curbs.  I side swiped a stop sign. Lifted it from its post and it took a ride on the Blazer’s hood partially blocking my view. The black sedan had more horse power than my Blazer. I pulled the Blazer to the curb with the brakes smoking and smelling like burnt rubber. Bailey was on the floor board with his paws placed on his head. I jumped out of the Blazer, grabbed the stop sign and threw it in a bush and dusted my hands on my jeans.

I called Ace’s Towing for a tow to Mooney’s Garage.  Ace is in his fifties, his black hair graying at the temples and his smile curls up to one side.  Quite a handsome muscular dude.

“It smells like your brakes are toast.”  He said as he lifted the Blazer off its front wheels.

Ace locked everything down and hopped in the cab of the truck.

I looked up at him and asked.  “You mind giving us a ride.” 

“Hop in.” Was his answer. 

Ace is a man of very few words.

Mona and I rode in the tow truck with Bailey on my lap hanging out the window.  Ace couldn’t keep his eyes off Mona. He held the steering wheel so tight he was white knuckle driving. What man with blood flowing through his veins wouldn’t  be turned on by her?

Mona got the last three letters on the plate, EBK.  It’s impossible to run half a plate but we can keep an eye out for a black sedan with tinted windows.

I called my dad and asked to use his Edsel. He obliged with much hesitation.

‘I promise I’ll take good care of her, Dad.” I assured him.

After Ace dropped the Blazer off at Mooney’s Garage he drove us over to my parents house and dropped us off. I walked Bailey to the back yard and made sure the gate was latched.

My parents, Sparky and Esther Turner live in a quiet neighborhood. Most of their neighbors have lived in the neighborhood for years. The house at the end of the block is a rental with people moving in and out almost monthly. My friend Hayden lived there when he was a kid. Dad is retired from the sawmill and preaches at the local chapel when the pastor is out of town. The congregation consist of  a few old timers, and the husky six foot tall Brady twins, Bill and Will.  They celebrated their legal age years ago but seem to hang on to their teens. Momma keeps up with all the gossip. She can give you the scoop on whatever is happening in the church or for a matter of fact anywhere in the community at any given time. Whether it‘s gossip or fact Momma is the community informant. The gossip must go through Momma to solidify it is the God’s truth.

Momma had dinner on the table with four place settings. I knew it meant we were to join them for dinner and we would be pumped for all the info they could get out of us. I’m always good for a free meal. I told Mona to prepare herself for an interrogation.

I introduced Mona as my new bounty hunter partner not giving them much information.

“Where you come from, Mona? What brings you here?” The interrogation began.

Mona started to answer when dad spoke up.

“Mona, now if the misses asked too many questions you just tell her to mind her own business.”

“I can ask questions if I take a mind to. You old fart.  She is our daughter‘s work partner.” 

The war was on.  Momma clammed up like an old toad and Dad did the interrogating.  It’s a game they learned to play years ago. Dad would get all the information and Momma would start calling friends and neighbors.

Momma, wiped her hands on her apron and pushed her hair back from her brow. “Ya’ll get around the table, dinner is ready and I don’t want it gettin’ cold.”

We all joined hands and dad gave thanks for our daily bread and for His blessings.

Dad piled his plate high with pot roast, potatoes, carrots and green beans falling off the side of his plate. He poured gravy over his meat and potatoes and tucked a kitchen towel in the neck of his shirt. With fork and knife in hand he was ready to chow down. He sopped gravy up with Momma’s homemade rolls, pushed his chair back from the table, tipped the chair on it‘s back legs and patted his belly.

“This little woman knows how to get to a man’s heart. Right through his belly.”

“Oh, Sparky you always say that.” Momma smiled, “ I have apple pie for dessert.”

Dad with his big smile rubbed his belly and grinned. “Mother you should have told me we were having dessert.” He laughed, winked and took a toothpick from the green and purple ceramic toothpick holder  Kimberly, my older sister made when she was in preschool. Most creative things I made at school didn’t make it home.

Momma got up, threw her napkin on the table and turned for the kitchen.

“You ole’ gizzard you know we always have dessert.”  She yelled over her shoulder.

Before Momma could serve up the apple pie the Brady twins were knocking at the door. They were halfway through the door way before dad could yell “Come in.”

“Why are you boys hanging around here?”

“We saw the apple pie setting on the window sill cooling earlier today.  Thought there might be a piece leftover for us.”

Daddy smiled. “Pull a chair over to the table.  What have you boys been up to today?”

Bill the talkative twin spoke up. “We helped Ms. Daisy weed her garden. And she gave us some tomatoes for a job well done. We took um‘ home to Mama and she’s canning them.”

Will didn’t take his face out of his pie dish. When the pie was gone he scrapped the dish with his fork sending a chill down my spine. Put the plate to his face and licked it clean.

“Look, Mrs. Turner you won’t have to wash this one.”

Momma shook her head. “Will, when you gonna learn some manners?”

We finished with dinner. I stacked the plates and carried them to the kitchen where momma was scrapping the leftovers into Tupperware.

“What are you doing running with a woman like that?” Momma said as she lifted the lid  releasing the air burping the container.

“Mona is a nice lady. Now Momma don’t you go putting your opinion on her. You should give her a chance.” I said as I filled the sink with water and squirted dish soap in preparation of washing the dishes. I took the plastic drain board and rack from under the sink and placed it on the counter.

Momma opened the frig door, stacked the Tupperware containers on the shelf, slammed the door and grabbed a dishtowel. “Mark my word she’s trouble.”

I washed and rinsed all the glasses, silverware and dishes in that order while Momma dried and put them in the cupboard. Momma always washes the pots and pans before she serves dinner. Her reasoning being.  If you don’t clean them immediately the food will stick. Sounds like a good reason to me.

I walked back to the dining room with Momma on my heels. Dad and Mona were laughing. Seems Mona is good at telling jokes and dad is good for a few himself.

I gave Dad a peck on the forehead and Momma a big hug.

“We need to be going.  We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.” I said as we headed for the door.

“Tiffany, I wish you would get a decent job.  Bertha Beasley’s daughter got a job at the Pickle Factory. She‘s now an up standing citizen. And she gets a discount on all the pickles she buys. Bertha already has a years supply of pickles in her cupboard.”

“Momma, I can’t stand in front of a moving belt picking out bad cucumbers. The motion would make me sick.”

“You could stock my cupboard with pickles. Or, what about…”

“Stop stop, I like my job. I’m a bounty hunter…get over it.”

Momma dried her hands on her apron. “You worry me young lady. Bounty Hunters are not well thought of and anyway somebody is always shooting at you.”

“Thank you for the nice dinner.” Mona said following me out the door.

I moved toward the back door with Mona on my heels. I open the gate and put Bailey in the Edsel.

“Thanks for the Edsel. I’ll take good care of her.”

“Don’t bring her back riddled with bullet holes. You hear me? I‘m planning on making a shiny classic out of her.” Dad said, knowing the Edsel driving off would not look the same when it returned to his garage.

“You got it Dad, I’ll take good care of her.”

We jumped in the Edsel and headed for Mona’s apartment. I dropped Mona off on the curb next to the apartment building.

“I’ll  pick you up eight o’clock sharp tomorrow morning.”

Mona stuck her head in the passenger window.

“I’ll be here. Thanks Tiffany, it was nice of you to take me to your folks, the dinner was good. See you tomorrow.”

I threw the Edsel in drive and headed toward home.

Mona waved but didn’t take a step toward the apartment building. I looked in my rear view mirror. She was standing there. I stopped and put the Edsel in reverse and backed up maneuvering through on coming traffic and ran upon the curb bouncing to a stop.

“Why the hell are you just standing here? Do you live here?”

No answer, just a quivering chin with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You homeless?”

Mona shook her head yes.

“Get in the car. We gotta be honest with each other.  You’re coming home with me.”