Devlin Haskell: Bulldog Part 9

Lets just say he had a fetish for hands, you crossed him and hed cut off your hand.

Charming.

Aaron nodded. Maybe three months before Bulldog gets sentenced Marcela disappears. Thereve been rumors we pick up from time to time that he skipped town and now hes in Vegas, LA, maybe Miami someplace like that, but we never hear anything concrete. When he supposedly skipped town he apparently took a lot of cash with him, close to half a million dollars.

Let me guess, the money belonged to Tubby Gustafson.

Right, or thats at least who we think it belonged to.

I got two problems with that, the first is thats a nice bit of change to you and me, but its chump change for these guys. Five hundred grand? And youre on the run? Where is he gonna go and be safe, nowhere. I dont think a guy like Marcela would do that for ten times the amount, it would be stupid. And then, what does this have to do with Bulldog?

Supposedly Marcela was the supplier, its how Bulldog actually gets involved with Tubbys inner circle business. Marcela disappears, Bulldog serves eighteen months because he wont cop a plea and finger Tubbys organization, by the way he does the time standing on his head. So, he gets out and immediately steps into Marcelas old job as enforcer for Tubby Gustafson.

Nice work if you can get it, I said.

Not really. Just for the record, suppose Bulldog took out Marcela and grabbed Tubbys five hundred grand. Im guessing that would put him on some pretty thin ice, probably get him killed.

One can only hope theyd give him a long, painful death, I said.

Nothing has ever been proven, in fact, a lot of it is just supposition on our part. I mean a flip side of it could be Tubby asked Bulldog to take out Marcela with the promise of making him enforcer and sweetening the pot with the five hundred grand.

Ive never really thought of Tubby as being that generous, I said.

Well, there is that. Look, I had better get to work, was there anything else? Aaron asked.

No, Id just encourage you guys to take a long, hard look at Bulldog on this thing and just pursue it until you get whoever the b.a.s.t.a.r.d was that killed Dermot.

Thats exactly what weve been doing, Dev.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

So thats what theyre going to do, check out Bulldogs perfect alibi? Louie had to shout so I could hear him.

We were sitting in a far back booth at The Spot. There was a large crowd of women drinking gla.s.ses of white wine or pink and blue drinks and they were all cl.u.s.tered around the bar. Some sort of pre-party to a twenty-year high school reunion. They all looked like they were glad to flee the kids and leave the little darlings with their husbands for the night. The noise level was about ten decibels above permanent deafness.

There has to be a tie-in somewhere, its just too coincidental, Bulldog owning the place they end up buying and then Dermots killed, I said.

But what would be in it for him?

What?

Whats in it for him, for Bulldog?

I dont know, I shrugged.

You think he wanted the house back?

I think if he wanted it back he could have made them an offer and they would have at least entertained the idea. Just looking around over there, Id say they were overwhelmed with major projects throughout the entire house. Probably no time to finish them and even less money.

Its still awfully strange, Louie said.

Its one of those coincidences that I cant believe is just a coincidence.

What? Louie said.

I just shouted, Yes and nodded at the same time.

A few minutes later the crowd began to disperse, heading out the front and side doors on to the next venue wherever that was. It was suddenly blissfully quiet.

Lets grab a stool, Louie said sliding out of the booth. You better give us another round, Louie said to Jimmy a moment later.

He just looked at us and smiled.

Jimmy, Jimmy, Louie said and snapped his fingers to get Jimmys attention.

Jimmy grinned then pulled a pair of yellow foam ear plugs out of ears. Thank G.o.d, he said, Id be permanently damaged if it wasnt for these things.

Give us a round, Louie said. We sat and sipped and contemplated some of the finer things in life, like the next round.

The flat screens were on in the two corners above the bar, tuned to the baseball game. The sound had been muted when the loud crowd had been in earlier and Jimmy had never turned it back up. That was okay, the Twins were getting spanked by Chicago. It was bad enough giving the game the occasional glance and catching the score. I didnt need to hear how bad things were going, too. Mercifully the disaster came to a close and five minutes of commercials started up. The first was for the ten oclock news.

The screen was filled with the photo of a heavyset guy with a blond Mohawk. He was leaning against a picnic table and appeared to be shouting and waving what looked like a large turkey drumstick. The caption across the bottom of the screen read a.s.sault Victim. The photo looked an awful lot like Fat Freddy.

Jimmy, turn up the sound will ya, I think I know that guy, I said.

Let me just find where I left that d.a.m.n remote, Dev, he said walking down the length of the bar looking from left to right. He eventually found it next to the pull-tab box and turned up the sound just as the news broadcast began.

Police tonight are looking for four men involved in the vicious daylight a.s.sault that occurred about three-thirty this afternoon in the parking lot of Nastys. Apparently the victim, thirty-one year old Fredrick Zimmerman was a.s.saulted while on the way to his car. Zimmerman, an employee of Nastys is listed in stable condition tonight at Regions Hospital. Police are asking anyone with information to please contact them.

In other news the Twins suffered yet another defeat Is that?

Fat Freddy, I answered. I was just with him a couple of days ago. Jesus Christ.

Someone beat him up in the middle of the afternoon in Nastys parking lot? Louie said.

Yeah, and Im willing to bet I know exactly who had a hand in it if he didnt attack him outright.

Who?

Bulldog.

Hey, look, Dev. I know you were kind of warming to Fat Freddy and you are no fan of Bulldogs. By the way, neither am I, but it might be a little farfetched to pin this on him.

Not a fan? No, Ill lay you odds on it, hes responsible. I just know it.

How can you be so sure?

Because its my fault.

What are you talking about?

I was at Nastys the other night. I went in there to talk to Fat Freddy, to see if he could tell me who Lowell Bulski is.

That name you got off the property records at PRR? I checked online and couldnt find anything. Remember?

Yeah, but just cause its not online doesnt mean there arent other sources.

Now Fat Freddy is a source?

I had a hunch, Bulski, Bulldog, get it?

No.

Bulski, the last name, its why that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Bulldog is called Bulldog, well, that and the fact the guy is such an a.s.shole.

And Freddy told you this?

No, as a matter of fact I never even talked to Freddy, never saw him, hed already left. The place was jammed with all sorts of upstanding citizens and swells getting their fill. Then this chick came on the stage, they hyped her as the nastiest woman Nastys has ever had or something like that. She was clearly the reason all the suits were there. Anyway, she does a couple of half-a.s.s numbers then is out fleecing the crowd for lap dances. Can you believe she gets forty bucks?

So who was she?

Im getting to that. I cant get near her for a couple of hours. They got these big, thuggy bouncers literally guarding her a.s.s. Shes out there doing lap dances and s.h.i.t, shes on some guy and at the same time signaling me that Im next. You know who it was?

I got no idea.

The name Swindle Lawless ring any bells?

You are kidding me, Swindle Lawless? That p.o.r.n star s.l.u.t who was with Tommy and Gino DAngelo until they got sent to prison? Do you mean to tell me she hasnt died from some sort of overdose or been run over by a group of enraged wives? G.o.d, the female version of Keith Richards and shes still out there proving everyone wrong. I dont believe it.

Believe it. She tossed down seven or eight shots while I tried to talk to her. Ten bucks a crack.

Thats what she charges?

No, thats what the shots cost.

G.o.d. So what does any of this have to do with your husky friend Freddy being put in the hospital?

Oh yeah, so Im trying to talk with her, asking if she knows who Lowell Bulski is? Im thinking she may have lived at Caseys when it was cut into sleazy apartments. One of the neighbors I talked to described a woman who lived there as strange and unbalanced.

That could be just about any woman who would go out with you.

Im asking old Swindle if she knows Lowell and shes kind of drunk and sort of staggers. I had to grab her by the shoulders so she wouldnt fall. Next thing I know some bouncer wants to throw me out. So, I told him Tubby and Bulldog sent me over to watch Swindle and they had told Fat Freddy to pa.s.s on the info to the rest of the bouncers. Anyway, that bouncer checks with his pals, they start to come after me and thats when I just got the h.e.l.l out of there. Long way around the barn, but I think thats why Freddy was attacked and Id be willing to bet Bulldog had something major to do with it.

So now what?

I think Ill finish this beer and head back to Caseys place. Maybe go see Freddy in the hospital tomorrow morning.

You think thats wise?

I doubt Tubby or Bulldog will be there at his bedside. I just might cheer him up, you never know.

Chapter Twenty-Four.

Regions Hospital is located on the northern edge of downtown Saint Paul just across from the Minnesota State Capitol complex. The facility covers two blocks and rises up nine stories. I stopped at the information desk in the front lobby to get directions up to Fat Freddys room.

Are you with the newspaper? the woman asked. Her volunteer nametag said Eleanor and she flashed me the briefest of smiles that disappeared almost before it began.

No, just a friend, I replied.

Mmm-mmm, she murmured suggesting I was a disappointment and held no further interest then she gazed past me into the lobby indicating I was dismissed.

I made my way down the hall, onto the elevator and up to the third floor. Freddys room was two right turns, a left turn, then down a hallway to another right turn then straight ahead. Id need a compa.s.s just to find my way back. I would have dropped breadcrumbs except that the maintenance staff was waxing the hall floor so my effort would have been for naught.

I half expected a police officer or some sort of security to be sitting in front of his room. There wasnt any. No one questioned me as I entered the room. The bed was raised so Freddy was able to sit. He was propped up by three or four additional pillows and just staring out the window at his personal view of the interstate. His powder blue hospital gown seemed to contrast with his bruised arms and his swollen black and blue face.

A shiny metal sort of splint was positioned over his nose then covered with gauze and layers of white adhesive tape. The right ear where Id pulled the gauge from his ear lobe a couple weeks back had been reinjured and looked like a giant tooth hanging on the side of his head. The ma.s.sive ear lobe was split and dangled in an inverted V like the roots of an extracted tooth. His eyes seemed to flutter like he was fighting sleep and losing the battle.

There were two IV bags dripping into a tube attached to his left hand. I guessed one was probably some sort of pain medication and the other maybe just fluid to help keep him hydrated.

Hows it going, Freddy?

Kinda horses.h.i.t right now, he mumbled. When he spoke he made an effort not to move his swollen lips.

What the h.e.l.l happened?

I got no idea. Bulldog said he had information I was trying to move in on one of their stars.

One of their stars?

That old witch Cougar. I guess she told him or something. I dont know what the h.e.l.l shes talking bout. She aint said more than two words to me in all the time I been there.

Swindle, it figured.

The night crew said some guy told them he cleared talking to Cougar with me. I dont know nothing about any of that. I kept telling them I didnt talk to anyone and thats when they started kicking the s.h.i.t out of me. b.a.s.t.a.r.ds didnt stop for a h.e.l.l of a long time. Then Bulldog walks up, tells me Im fired and kicks me some more. s.h.i.t, the son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h coulda just sent a text message, he said then looked like he might smile, but thought better of it.

I saw it on the news, last night. h.e.l.l of a way to get free press, I joked.