Devlin Haskell: Bulldog Part 4

Chapter Eleven.

Nastys is a local inst.i.tution featuring over-priced drinks, crabby bartenders and naked women. It has a six-foot red neon heart over the door with the word Nastys scrolled across the front flashing on and off. The last time I was in there Id been told to leave in no uncertain terms by one of the bouncers. Okay, I was kicked out, but not for being abusive or, abusive in my usual way. Id been on a case and attempted to ask one of the dancers some questions. She took offense when I didnt want to pay her, made a scene and I thought the best thing I could do was comply with the wishes of the gentleman who looked like he pumped weights all day and wore a T-shirt advertising the Ultimate Fight Club Boot Camp. I hadnt been back since.

Id never met Jackie Van Dorn, but I agreed with Louie that in a strange way it seemed fitting he would office here. I went through the front door into a small entry room that housed a heavy-set woman stuffed behind bullet proof gla.s.s. The little area she was in was so small her arm and shoulder were pushed up against the gla.s.s and I immediately thought of a large sausage stuffed into a very small jar. She laid the romance book she was reading face down next to her smoldering cigarette and coughed out, Five dollars.

I hated cover charges. I half wondered what kind of attorney would charge you just to get into his office then realized how really stupid that sounded. I slipped the five bucks into the little well in the counter and she slid a 4x5 color brochure back to me advertising a s.e.x toy shop. She took a drag from her cigarette, didnt bother to look up and went back to reading her romance.

The entry to the bar area was just past the bullet proof gla.s.s, a semblance of music thumped out from behind a pair of double doors. The large bra.s.s handles on the doors were in the shape of a pair of b.o.o.bs, which seemed sort of fitting. I automatically raised my hands and pushed through both doors.

Not much had changed inside Nastys since the last time Id been kicked out, except it looked a little more rundown. As my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, I noticed the place had the definite reek of cheap perfume and dumb guys. The floor was covered from the double doors all the way up to the stage area in leopard skin carpeting with a red boarder running along the walls and looked like it hadnt been cleaned in years. The fifteen-foot stage was lit by colored flashing lights with a mirrored dis...o...b..ll slowly spinning from the center of the ceiling. The back wall of the stage was all mirrors and a chrome pole was positioned on either end of the stage.

It was late afternoon and maybe just a half dozen bored patrons sat by themselves at different tables. Two guys sat up along the stage with maybe four empty stools between them and a pile of one-dollar bills stacked up next to their drinks. A couple of dancers wandered across the floor wearing negligees, sipping watered down drinks and offering lap dances. No one was buying.

The woman grinding her back up and down on one of the chrome poles had a look plastered on her face like shed just pa.s.sed out with her eyes open. I made my way to the bar.

Yeah? was the less than cheery greeting I got from the bartender. I would have pegged her age at about fifty, but given the lifestyle she was probably closer to thirty-five. Id obviously interrupted whatever daydream shed been involved in.

Actually, nothing for me, Im looking for Jackie Van Dorns office. I think hes up on the second floor.

Yeah, he is, she said then stared back at me, bored.

How do I get up there? I said looking around in a way that suggested I couldnt find the door.

You go outside around to the back of the building its the door next to the dumpster.

Back of the building, I said.

Next to the dumpster, she replied.

Gee, thanks.

She didnt smile, nod, or give me the finger. She just walked down to the far end, leaned against the back of the bar and pasted the same blank look on her face as the woman swirling around on the pole. On the way out I didnt waste time asking for my five bucks back.

There were actually two dumpsters in the back of the building, one green and one blue. If they were color coded for some purpose it would appear no one had bothered to pay any attention. Both of them smelled equally bad.

The metal door at the back of the building was painted navy blue enamel, red primer showed through were the paint had chipped off the door. A small metal sign was fixed to the door that read Sentinel Security. Someone had penned the word Sucks behind Sentinel Security. There was a doorbell in the grimy metal doorframe and a security camera mounted overhead on the wall. The door was locked so I pushed the doorbell and heard a long buzz echo from somewhere inside.

A moment later a voice came out of a speaker in the camera mounted overhead and said, Yeah?

Hi, I said giving my nicest smile as I looked up into the camera. Im here to see Mr. Van Dorn.

Got an appointment? the voice growled.

No, Im sorry I dont. I wasnt sure how to get in touch with him.

Whats it about?

Id like to take that up with Mr. Van Dorn.

Your name?

Haskell, Devlin Haskell.

I heard the speaker click off and I waited, still smiling for the camera. A moment later there was a loud click and a buzzer sounded, I turned the doork.n.o.b then pushed the door open. There was a steep staircase about three feet inside the door with no stair rail and a dim yellow light about a mile away at the top of the steps. The cinderblock walls on either side of the stairwell were shiny with the same navy blue paint that was on the door, I started to climb.

At the top of the stairs was another metal door, this one was open and I stepped through into a short hallway with a room maybe ten feet ahead. I could feel the music from below vibrating through the floor and the smell of cigarette smoke grew stronger as I approached.

The room was paneled in the sort of wood paneling that had been popular in bas.e.m.e.nts during the 60s. A woman sat at a large wooden desk in the middle of the room half hidden behind a computer screen and a smoldering cigarette. There was a beige push b.u.t.ton phone circa 1980 sitting on her desk off to the left with four clear plastic b.u.t.tons at the base, signifying land lines. One of the b.u.t.tons was lit.

Hes on the phone, just take a seat, she said not looking up from her computer screen. I could see the reflection in her bifocals of the solitaire game she was playing on the computer. Behind her was a closed door. I took a seat in one of the plastic chairs against the wall and waited.

After a good fifteen minutes, the beige phone buzzed and without looking up she said, Guess you can go in now.

Thanks, I said and headed toward the closed door.

Louies description of Jackie Van Dorn as a B grade movie star from the 40s wasnt far off the mark. He sat behind a ma.s.sive desk and sized me up as I entered his office. From a good fifteen feet away I could spot the home dye job on his black hair along with maybe a quarter inch of grey roots showing, all of it slicked back and fitted to his head like a helmet. His mustache looked like it had been drawn above his thin lip with a cheap eyebrow pencil. He wore a light blue shirt with a starched white collar and a fire engine red tie. His coat was snow white with a red pocket silk that matched his tie. I pegged him for about a hundred years old. He studied me from behind a pile of files as I approached.

Mr. Van Dorn, I appreciate you making time to see me without an appointment, I said and extended my hand.

He looked at my hand for a moment and then, probably against his better judgment gave me a limp shake in response.

Mind if I sit down? I asked.

Be my guest, he said almost under his breath. The way he continued to stare gave me the feeling he was trying to read my mind.

So, I said taking a seat in an uncomfortable green leather chair and waited. Then I waited some more. I could still feel the vibration from the music down below in Nastys throbbing through the floor. Finally I broke the ice. Your name came up regarding a real estate deal from a couple of years back and I wondered if you might be able to help me.

I guess that all depends. His ma.s.sive black leather chair squeaked as he tilted back and appeared ready to listen. The red lining of his suit coat became exposed and appeared to match his tie and pocket silk.

A friend of mine was involved in a real estate closing about two-and-a-half years ago. You represented the selling party. I guess they were traveling or something. Anyway, I wondered if you might be able to provide some information on them, the sellers.

Information? What sort of information? he asked then stroked his chin with his right hand.

Well, their name for starters.

Thats a matter of public record Im sure you could get in touch with the county and they could tell her.

I didnt know if the her was a guess, a slip of the tongue or was he just letting me know he knew exactly why I was there.

Along with their names I wanted to find out something, actually anything I could learn about them.

I dont intend to reveal my clients name just from the confidentiality standpoint, I a.s.sume you understand. Frankly, if you want the name that bad you can look it up. As far as finding out about them I really couldnt be of much help. Without going into specifics, my only dealings would be related to that particular transaction, hardly the sort of interaction that would allow me to gather information and then pa.s.s that on to you. There is that troubling little item called ethics that comes into play.

Ethics I said and nodded. Youve a bit of a unique practice, Mr. Van Dorn, dont you more or less keep Tubbys feet away from the fire.

I wouldnt really know what youre referring to Mr. Haskell and I think Ive been more than generous with my time. Please enjoy the rest of your day, he said then pressed a b.u.t.ton on his desk. A moment later a rather large individual entered the office. He showed the residual effects of a beating, a purple discoloration across the bridge of his flat nose and beneath both eyes, although the swelling had all but disappeared. His lip was split on the right side and seemed to be healing somewhat slowly. His entire right ear was bandaged up in white gauze. His eyes grew wide as I turned in the chair to face him and a s.a.d.i.s.tic look of recognition splashed across his face. He reached behind his back and pulled out a rather large looking .45. Fat Freddy.

Id like you to see our guest to the door. Hes finished here, Jackie Van Dorn said, then sort of shooed me away with a few flicks of his hand.

Fat Freddy waved the .45 at me indicating I was going to leave. I wasnt about to argue, I rose to my feet, gave Freddy a wide berth and headed for the door. Thank you for your time, Mr. Van Dorn, Im sure well be in touch, I called over my shoulder.

Van Dorn didnt respond. The woman at the desk didnt bother to look up from her solitaire game which one could only hope she was losing. I walked out of the room, down the short hall then picked up speed once I was at the top of the stairs.

Oh no you dont, not so d.a.m.n fast, Fat Freddy said half under his breath, then hurried down the steps after me.

I had to slow down to let him catch up. He thundered down the steps grunting. His hand holding the .45 was placed against the wall for balance. He was busy focusing on the stairs when I half turned, reached up and grabbed him by the wrist then twisted him over my shoulder. I hung onto his wrist and yanked the .45 out of his hand as he let out a loud groan then slid down a half dozen steps. His head bounced off the steps a couple of times and he skidded to a stop at the bottom.

Freddy, Freddy, Freddy, you just dont seem to learn, I said then stepped over him, opened the door and walked outside. Freddy remained where he was, sprawled across the steps coughing and groaning. For my part, I couldnt see any benefit in hanging around, so I quickly made it to my car and fled Nastys.

Chapter Twelve.

Yeah, I didnt think youd get anything out of Van Dorn, Louie said then twirled his index finger at Jimmy to signal another round. Wed been in The Spot for a couple of hours.

What a sleaze ball.

Told ya, Louie said.

Did you know the entrance to his office is next to a couple of dumpsters behind Nastys?

No, I didnt, but its not all that surprising, in fact its almost poetic now that I think about it.

I put a call into Casey about her abstract hopefully she can get hold of the thing.

Yeah, like I said it would be interesting to look through it. You get the name of the seller its probably nothing, but it just might be a good idea to pa.s.s that information on to the police, Louie said making it sound like a pretty strong suggestion.

Yeah, I know, I know, I groaned.

You worried about this Freddy character? It doesnt really sound like youve gotten the relationship off on the best foot.

There is no relationship, Louie. I want that idiot and anyone else who may be a.s.sociated with him to just stay the h.e.l.l away from Casey and from me.

I get that, but just be careful so youre not inviting more involvement on their part.

Some guy walked in the front door and I glanced outside, it wasnt quite dusk, but it would be dark in less than an hour. I better get a move on, I want to be at Caseys before it gets too late and have some lights turned on. You want to stop over for some week old chicken wings and beer?

Louie seemed to ponder my offer for a brief moment then shook his head. No, it would probably be the better idea to just head home.

Of course it would, but since when have you ever done that?

True, but Ill still take a rain check.

Suit yourself, man. See you tomorrow.

Louie nodded then signaled Jimmy for another drink. I went out to my car and headed toward Caseys. There was a pair of headlights behind me as I drove down Victoria toward the entrance ramp, nothing unusual, I just made a mental note. They followed me onto the interstate which was still okay. I took the next exit, Grand Avenue and they followed. That was a little unusual, but its happened before. When I took a left up Ramsey then turned left a block later onto Grand instead of going up Ramsey Hill, it started to feel a little weird. I was on a city street and the headlights were hanging back, but I was pretty sure they were following me.

By now it was too dark to see what type of vehicle it was. My money was on a sinister looking black Camaro with a crease in the drivers side door where Id jumped against it to bounce the thing off Fat Freddy the other night.

I took another right, drove a block and hooked right again. It had to be Freddy, who else would do such a horses.h.i.t job of tailing someone? I drove the rest of the way to Caseys house with one eye on the rearview mirror. When I turned onto Holly Avenue the headlights behind me kept going straight down Arundel. It looked like a black Camaro in my rearview mirror, but I couldnt be positive. Maybe Freddy just wanted to see where I was going and then head home. Maybe, but I doubted it.

He was going to do something stupid, I just knew it. I parked across the street from Caseys, went in the house and turned on a number of lights then ducked out the back door and waited next to a hedge along the side fence. From where I stood I could see the back door and the front yard.

I didnt have to wait long, Freddy came hobbling down the street about fifteen minutes later. The gauze bandage on his ear was like a headlight in the night. He cut through the next door neighbors yard and headed toward the back of the house. I moved toward the back and stepped in close to a large lilac bush. Freddy rattled the side gate then slipped into the back yard. I watched as he peered into a back window then tried to sneak along the side of the house pa.s.sing no more than ten feet from me. He cautiously crept up the couple of steps to the deck then glanced around. He didnt seem to be carrying anything, at least not in his hands, so I figured he wasnt going to do something stupid like toss a bomb through the window. Still, it was a safe bet he was armed.

I let him take a few of steps across the deck before I called out. Thats far enough, Freddy. Stretch your arms out where I can see them and dont move. You do anything stupid and Ill shoot you.

He stood still and spread his arms out wide. He hung his head like he couldnt believe hed already failed at this undertaking, too. I came up on the deck behind him, pushed the barrel of the .38 into the back of his head just so hed get the message then patted him down.

When I pulled a pistol out of his waistband he let out a frustrated sigh, sounding amazed Id found it in the most logical place.

Freddy, just what the h.e.l.l is it with you? Honest to G.o.d, havent you had enough? This just doesnt seem to be working for you.

I told you before, Im doing this for Bulldog.

Doing what? So far youve been beat up, thrown down a set of stairs. Your nose has been broken, youre limping and you got that ear thing going for you. Hows it been working up to now?

Well, not so good to tell you the truth, you didnt have to be so rough the other night at Ozzies and you could have really hurt me on those steps this afternoon, G.o.d, Im all black and blue and Freddy, you ever think of taking up a different line of work?

You kidding? Im a criminal and Im pretty good at it. Its kind of like were in the same business, you know?

Not really.

Hey, Haskell can I put my arms down, Im getting kind of tired standing like this and my back is killing me from those d.a.m.n steps this afternoon.

Yeah, sure, Freddy, look, you want a beer? Lets talk and see if we cant help each other out.

Chapter Thirteen.

We were sitting at the kitchen counter halfway through our second round of beers. Once I took the clip out of Freddys pistol and checked the chamber for a round, I gave it back to him.

Yeah, thanks its the only one I got left, he said then glanced at me like that was somehow my fault.

So what were you doing at Jackie Van Dorns today? Are you working for him or bouncing at Nastys?