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Mike Faricy

House Guests

Dev Haskell Mystery #38

Mike Faricy

House Guests

Published by Credit River Publishing 2024

Copyright Mike Faricy 2024

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior and express permission of the copyright owner.

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ASIN #

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank the following people for their help and support:

Thanks to Lana, Denise, Barbara, Anna, Karen, and Lynn for their

creative talent and not slitting their wrists or jumping off a bridge

when dealing with my Neanderthal technical capabilities.

Last, I would like to thank family and friends for their encouragement and unqualified support. Special thanks to Maggie, Jed, Patrik, Schatzie, Pat, and Emily, for not rolling their eyes, at least when I was there.

House Guests

Mike Faricy

One

Spinning my desk chair around, I returned my binoculars to the drawer. The two women in the third-floor apartment across the street were now dressed and sipping the last of their coffee. The redhead had just slung her purse over her shoulder and appeared to be saying something before she left for work. I liked her better when she stood at the kitchen island in the pink thong and no bra, applying her makeup, but that was over until tomorrow morning.

I drummed my fingers on the desk. It was too early to go over to The Spot bar, although the half-dozen morning regulars had been in there since 7:30 when they opened. My Golden Retriever, Morton, was up close and personal with his beef marrow bone. Princess, my recently acquired cat, was home in the kitchen, probably stretched out on the kitchen counter. My office mate Louie had a court appearance this morning, so he wouldn’t be in until close to 11:00.

There was a folded copy of yesterday’s Pioneer Press, our local newspaper, or what was left of it, on the picnic table that served as Louie’s desk. In its heyday, the paper had won Pulitzers, and everyone I knew, including myself, subscribed. Times change, unfortunately. The current staff was only about twenty-five people, all of whom worked from home, and most of the articles were from the Associated Press. The paper was now printed by its competitor, the Minneapolis Star. That said, giving the paper a quick look sounded more appealing than checking out the backgrounds of the five job applicants my pal at the insurance company, Pete Carter, had sent me. I stepped over and unfolded the paper. The headline featured another tale of political ineptness. I skipped that article. I settled back in my chair and went through the following twelve pages in under four minutes. I either wasn’t interested, or I’d already listened to news updates on the radio.

I began reading through the obituaries. I was thinking how fortunate I was not to know anyone when I stopped and focused on the name Sonia ‘Sunny’ Twittler. I studied the picture. The last time I’d seen her, I was just ten or eleven, and she was leaving for college somewhere out of town. We’d grown up in the same neighborhood, just three doors apart. She’d been my babysitter when I was eight or nine. She’d tried to teach me to dance, and I had always considered her my first girlfriend, not that she knew. She was pretty back then, and based on the photo, nothing had changed. According to the obituary, cancer had been the cause of her death. I remembered her as someone who had taken the time to interact with me occasionally, always kind, and an excellent student. That last part, the excellent student, was just the opposite of me back in the day, well, and probably today as well.

She’d eventually gone to med school from what I knew, but I didn’t know where and hadn’t heard anything about her in probably the last thirty years. Based on the obit, she was survived by three children, two girls and a boy. No mention was made of a husband. The wake was this evening, and the funeral service was tomorrow morning at 11:00 at Assumption Church downtown. I wrote a note on the legal pad on my desk to go to the wake. I called my pal Aaron LaZelle, a lieutenant in the St. Paul Police Department. He and one of Sunny’s sisters had been close friends. Come to think of it, Sunny’s sister, Birdie, was his homecoming date our junior year. Or was it senior year? I couldn’t remember, so I gave him a call.

I was just about to leave him a message when he answered. “Yeah, Dev. I’m about to join a meeting. If this is a problem, call someone else.”

“Good morning to you, too, Aaron. No, I wanted to check in and tell you I saw the obituary for Sunny Twittler in yesterday’s paper. She died from cancer.”

“Yeah, she was home and had been receiving hospice care for the last couple of weeks. I saw her sister Birdie about a week ago. Sunny’s son works with the Feds. It was great to see Birdie. We told some stories and shared some gossip, and a week later, Sunny passed away. She did ask about you. Wanted to know where you were serving time.”

“Very funny, not. God, I wish I had known. I would have loved to see her. Sunny was always really nice to me. I thought of her as my first girlfriend.”

“Even back then, you went for older women. No wonder she left town to go to college. I told Birdie some stories about you, and she laughed.”

“Good, hopefully, she passed them on to her sister. Was Sunny a smoker?”

“No, I know her mother died of breast cancer fifteen or twenty years ago. It was breast cancer that began Sunny’s situation and eventually led to her passing. She had surgery a few years ago, thought everything was fine, and then about a year and a half later, the cancer was diagnosed somewhere else and kept popping up in other places. Are you thinking of going to the wake tonight? It’s at O’Halloran’s.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there. What time are you thinking?”

“Around 6:00, unless something comes up. Hey, I need to cut this short. My meeting is about to start.”

“Thanks for the update, Aaron. I hope to see you tonight,” I replied, but he’d already hung up. I spent the next two hours going through the job applications Pete Carter sent me. Thus far, everything was lining up. I copied the list of home addresses and planned to check them out this afternoon. I left Louie a note saying I was picking up sandwiches at Rooster’s while on my walk with Morton, and we left the office.

We took our usual route through the neighborhood. Morton was up close and personal with two fire hydrants and the Randolph Avenue street sign. After twenty minutes of sniffing at garden gates and fences, we made our way to Rooster’s BBQ Deli. It was just up the street from the office, and I’m in there two or three times a week. Once Morton realized where we were going, he picked up speed, straining at the leash. Fortunately, we were ahead of the lunch crowd and could step right up to the counter.

“Well, Morton, you decided to bring Dev. How nice of you,” Melanie, the woman working the counter, joked. “Your usual, pulled pork BBQ, Dev?”

“Yeah, two pulled pork, please, and a bone for Morton if you have one to spare.”

“I think we can find a bone. Let me get the sandwiches going first. Justus,” she called. “Two pulled pork.”

Justus suddenly appeared at the counter, smiled, and gave me a wave. “How you doing today, Mr. Dev?”

“Good, Justus, but it’s early yet, so who knows?”

“I hear you.” He pulled out two baked buns and set about making the sandwiches.

Melanie disappeared for a moment and returned with a large bone for Morton. She placed it in a bag and then wrapped up the sandwiches Justus had made. I paid with cash, and we left Rooster’s. I noticed Louie’s new used car, a dented gray Ford Fiesta, was parked in front of my Dodge Charger.

Morton picked up speed the closer we got to the office. He was focused on the bag of sandwiches and the new bone. We made it back to the office in about two minutes, including climbing the stairs to the second floor. Morton was straining on the leash, knowing he’d get the bone as soon as we entered the office, so I let go of the leash, and he bounded up the stairs.

Louie was seated at his picnic table, sipping a coffee. “Oh, perfect timing. I was just thinking about lunch.”

“How’d it go in court?” I asked as I pulled a sandwich out of the bag and handed it to him.

“Good, given the circumstances. It’s his first offense, so he’s restricted to driving to and from work, the grocery store, and AA meetings for the next ninety days. I’d say he’s learned his lesson and definitely knows he got lucky.”

“That’s because he had you representing him.”

“It’s still going to cost him a good chunk of change with the fine, my bill, and, of course, the increase in car insurance for the next seven years. Hey, thanks for picking up lunch. You better give Morton that bone before he has a heart attack.”

“Yeah, he’s been focused on the bag since we left Rooster’s.” I unclipped the leash and pulled the bone from the bag. Morton chomped onto it and hurried over to his pillow. He settled, facing in the opposite direction from Louie and me so he wouldn’t have to share.

I sat at my desk, took a bite of my sandwich, and glanced out the window just as my cell phone rang. I focused on the black Cadillac Escalade double parked next to my car. No doubt, Fat Freddy. ‘Damn it.’ I pulled out my phone and answered, saying, “Hi, Freddy, how can I help you?”

“You can get your dumb ass out here. His Highness wants to see you.”

“Okay, I’ll be out there in ten minutes. I just have to finish—”

“Bullshit. Don’t even think about it, or you’ll have to replace every window in the worthless thing you’re driving. Any questions?”

“I’m on my way.”

“Much better.” Click.

I took a large bite of my sandwich, wrapped it up, and placed it in a desk drawer just in case Morton happened to wander over.

I stood, pointed toward the window. “F-ing Fat Freddy.”

Louie nodded. “Good luck,” he called as I hurried out the door.

As I stepped onto the sidewalk, Pee Wee slid out from behind the steering wheel and held the rear door open for me. Fortunately, there wasn’t any traffic at the moment. I hurried across the street and hopped in the back seat as Pee Wee gave me a friendly nod.

Fat Freddy was in the passenger seat. He turned, gave me a look, and nodded at my gray T-shirt.

I looked at the large drip of barbecue sauce slowly moving down my shirt. I tried to sweep it up with my finger just as Pee Wee accelerated, which only served to smear the sauce further.

Fat Freddy shook his head. “Nice work, dumb shit.”

“So what does Tub—err, Mr. Gustafson want to see me about?”

“I guess he’ll have to tell you.”

“You can’t tell me?”

“No, Hassle. I don’t want to waste my time telling you.” With that, he faced forward and pulled a set of headphones over his ears.

I caught Pee Wee looking at me in the rearview mirror. “So, what’s up with the headphones?”

“He’s listening to a book on tape.”

“Figures, I knew he couldn’t read,” I joked.

“Keep it up, dumb shit, and you’ll find yourself walking home,” Fat Freddy replied.

Driving twenty miles per hour over the speed limit got us to Tubby Gustafson’s mansion on the River Boulevard in ten minutes. I was amazed that we never had to stop for a red light, but then I remembered that the Escalade had been installed with EVP, Emergency Vehicle Preemption. The program changed traffic lights to green as the vehicle approached, which means that Fat Freddy never had to deal with a red light. I could only imagine what would happen to me if I attempted to have that done to my car.

We pulled into the circular drive at Tubby’s mansion. As Pee Wee slowed to a stop, one of the armed guards stepped off the front stoop, hurried to the passenger door, and opened it for Fat Freddy. As Freddy slipped out of the car, it shook from side to side.

Freddy half-whispered something to the guard and waddled toward the front door. The guard opened my door and growled, “Get your dumb ass out here and assume the position.”

I slid out of the seat, turned around, raised my hands, and leaned against the roof of the Escalade.

The guy patted me down twice. “Okay, get a move on.”

I hurried to catch up to Fat Freddy as he entered the mansion. I caught the door before it closed and stepped into the entry, where I was patted down again. Freddy was already waddling down the hallway. I ran across the marble-floored entryway and down the hall, catching up just as Freddy arrived at Tubby’s office door. He knocked on the door as he pushed it open. I was a step behind him as we entered Tubby’s office.

Two

I’d been in Tubby’s office countless times before, but I could never recall a day when my visit had been enjoyable. This visit was quickly shaping up to be no different. Tubby was lying face down and naked on the massage table. Fortunately, his massive rear was covered by a large white towel. The fat on his upper body oozed over both sides of the massage table. Two women, clad only in black thongs, were in the process of massaging Tubby’s dimpled, hairy shoulders. Amazingly, neither one was wearing latex gloves. They were humming a tune that would hopefully keep their minds off the task at hand. Good Lord, and I thought my job was difficult. I couldn’t imagine how much he had to pay them. I was sure they soaked their hands in disinfectant for half an hour after finishing.

“Haskell is finally here, sir,” Fat Freddy called, sounding like I had been a problem.

“How typical you would choose to interrupt my workout now, Haskell.”

“Actually, sir, I asked Frederick if we could wait a bit. I had the sense your workout was around this time of day and—”

“We had all we could do just to get him in the car, sir,” Freddy interrupted and shot me a look.

“I—”

“Enough. Did you fill him in, Frederick?”

“I tried, sir, but I had the feeling it simply wasn’t registering with him, and I thought it would be best if he heard the information from you.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. No surprise. Give us fifteen minutes.” Tubby sighed and waved his hand. Both women placed their hands in the prayer position, bowed in unison toward Tubby, and then hurried to the far corner of the office, where they disappeared behind the hidden door in the paneling.

I attempted to focus on them rather than view naked Tubby sliding off the massage table and stepping into his red silk robe. Unfortunately, as the door closed behind the women, I couldn’t help but stare. To make matters worse, he stood and puffed on a cigar for a painfully long moment before pulling on his robe. He took a few more puffs on his cigar, settled into his desk chair, and opened a manila file. “I want you to take a look at this.” He held out three sheets of paper stapled together.

Fat Freddy pushed me from behind, forcing me to step up to the front of the desk. I took the papers from Tubby. The top sheet had an image of a muscular-looking man with a shaved head. I couldn’t recall having ever seen the man before.

“I’m sorry, sir. But I have no idea who this is.”

“Of course you don’t, Haskell, because I haven’t told you. That is an individual who goes by the name of Gerbil.”

“Gerbil? That’s his name? Who would ever name their child—does he have a last name, sir?”

Tubby shook his head and reached for a glass of brown liquid. I figured it was a safe bet that the glass wasn’t filled with tea. He took a healthy swallow and said, “Gerbil is a nickname, Haskell. I suspect a version of rat, but I don’t know that for sure. Anyway, that’s all we have on him. We’ve no idea where he comes from. No idea who he’s connected to. All I can tell you is that he’s costing me money. A lot of money, and I want you to find out where he is, and we’ll deal with it from there.”

I turned to the second page with a list of five different addresses. The third page listed three cars and their license plate numbers.

“Are these houses and cars that he owns?”

Tubby groaned. “They’re suspected past locations and vehicles. I doubt any of them are current, but if you check them out, you may be able to obtain additional information. I need you to find out everything you can regarding this individual and do so quickly. Any questions?”

“I’m not sure where to start, sir. Are you aware of anything he’s been involved in? Do you know the names of people I might talk to? The way you’ve described him, it would seem he may be involved in some illegal operations. Have you given this information to the police?”

“Actually, the police supplied that information to me. Not that they know it yet.”

So Tubby had a contact somewhere in the department, which was interesting. “I’ll see what I can find out, sir. But I have to say, I’m at a bit of a loss on where to start.”

“Well then, don’t let me hold you up. I’ll expect an initial report in forty-eight hours.”

“But I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Then you’d best get started,” Tubby instructed and nodded at Fat Freddy.

“Let’s go, Haskell. You’ve wasted enough of our time already.” Freddy took hold of my arm and pulled me toward the door. As we stepped out of the office, I glanced back to see Tubby slipping out of his silk robe as the two women in thongs hurried back in. I stared for a moment as they helped Tubby onto the massage table.

Freddy yelled, “Haskell, come on, let’s go.”

We were back in the Cadillac Escalade and pulling out of the circular drive two minutes later. No one said anything as Pee Wee drove back to my office. I studied the Xerox image of Gerbil for a couple of minutes and then read the addresses on the second page. The streets were familiar, but that was it. The addresses were all over town rather than in one general area. The whole thing struck me as an incredible waste of time, and unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about it. Who in the hell has the nickname Gerbil?

Pee Wee pulled to the curb in front of my office building, blocking the bus stop. As I climbed out of the car, I saw the bus approaching two blocks away. Fat Freddy lowered his window as I closed the car door.

“Just remember, Hassle, forty-eight hours.” He shook his head and sneered. Pee Wee drove across the intersection as the light turned red. I watched to ensure they continued down the street, then stepped into the building as the bus pulled into the bus stop.

“How’d things go?” Louie asked as I stepped into the office. Morton looked up and quickly curled around his new bone so I wouldn’t see it.

“Take a look at this waste of time.” I dropped Tubby’s three-page file on Louie’s picnic table.

He slid the file in front of him, looked at the image, and then glanced at the next two pages. “Who is this guy?”

“That’s a good question. He goes by the name of Gerbil. Tubby didn’t have an actual name, and the addresses are rumored to be where he once lived. The three license plates are supposedly vehicles he drove. Tubby wants information on the guy in forty-eight hours. I’m thinking it’s mission impossible.”

“Gerbil? Any idea why they’re looking for him?”

“God only knows. I would guess it’s not because they want to invite him for dinner and get to know him. He’s probably someone new to the area, and he’s competing against some aspect of Tubby’s business. Running a bar, a brothel, or a gambling house.”

“Or selling on the street,” Louie added. “You don’t have a name on this guy?”

“No, I don’t. I’m thinking I might give Heidi a call and ask—”

“Didn’t she tell you a couple of weeks ago not to call her again?”

“Oh, that was just because I ran her boat into the dock at her lake place. Of course, she had to replace the dock and fix the hole in the boat.”

“Yeah, and you mentioned she had a pretty severe sunburn?”

“Only because she passed out after drinking a couple of pitchers of margaritas. She took off her bikini and was, in her terms, ‘sunning herself’ in the boat. We both took a nap and—”

“You mean you both passed out.”

“Yeah, I guess. Anyway, she was screaming at me to get her back to the cabin, so I sped across the lake. Then, instead of remembering to reverse the engine, I kept looking for the brake pedal.”

“The brake pedal? On a boat?”

“I know. I know. But that was almost a month ago. Hopefully, she’ll have recovered and calmed down by now. I think it might be a good idea to call her and see what she could come up with. First things first, I’ll call her after lunch.” Louie handed the file back to me, and I settled in at my desk. I opened the desk drawer, pulled out my sandwich, and took a bite. My stomach growled as I savored the taste of the barbecue pork.

Five minutes later, I was licking my fingers clean. I pulled out my cell phone and called Heidi. She answered after a couple of rings. Let me rephrase that, she accepted my call but didn’t say anything.

“Hello. Hello?” I said, somewhat surprised she hadn’t blocked my number.

“Well, you called me. So what do you want?”

“Oh, umm, thanks for answering. First off, I was hoping there was enough distance between the boating incident and today so I could tell you again how very sorry I am for not being able to stop the boat. It was just that you were so upset with your sunburn. I wanted to get you back to your cabin and out of the sun, but I was focused on driving and worried about you. I will tell you, again, that you were absolutely gorgeous just lying in the sun.” I waited a moment, then said, “Hello? Still there?”

“Well, thank you. But I wasn’t just lying in the sun. I was passed out, no thanks to you, forcing me to drink two pitchers of margaritas.”

“I’m sorry. I apologize again.”

She laughed. “Oh, Dev, it would have been a great day if it wasn’t for the ruined dock, the hole in the boat, well, and my sunburn. God, you were smart to stay away. As if the sunburn wasn’t bad enough. My skin was peeling for the next week. I confined myself to the house and applied moisturizing cream hourly. So, do you want to take me to dinner?”

That sounded positive, and I was about to say yes, but then I remembered the wake tonight. “I wish I could, but I have to attend a wake this evening. I’d love to take you somewhere for breakfast, lunch, or dinner tomorrow. Your choice, or we can do all three if you think you can deal with me that much.”

“Let’s just do dinner. I’ll pick a place. Nothing fancy. I’m thinking somewhere laid back, and we can catch up, and then you can tell me the real reason you called.” Fortunately, she followed up with a laugh.

“Okay, you choose a place for dinner, and I’ll call you tomorrow. Thanks, Heidi. I’ve missed our conversations.”

“Yeah, Dev, I’m sure that’s why you called, our conversations.” She laughed and disconnected.

Louie looked over as I set my phone down. “So?”

“Well, she didn’t hang up on me, and I’m taking her out to dinner tomorrow night.”

Louie just gave me a look. I got on my computer and googled Gerbil, hoping something might come up. Several things appeared that had nothing to do with the person I was looking for. I searched the addresses on Google Maps and looked at the various locations. They all appeared to be older homes converted to multiple rental units. I decided that driving past the places and talking with residents would make sense. See if someone might have a name or, God forbid, a current address or phone number.

I told Louie I was going to check out the addresses. I clicked the leash onto Morton’s collar, and we went out to my car.

Three

We drove over to the Frogtown area of St. Paul. A section of town that had served whatever the current immigrant community had been for the past 150 years. The name Frogtown was derived from the swamps and frogs that were displaced when houses were built. The house Gerbil was presumed to have resided in was a two-story frame structure probably built in the late 1800s. It was on Edmund Street, just three doors from the corner of Edmund and MacKubin Street. The front door was on the left side of the house, with five steep concrete steps leading up to it. At one time, there clearly was an open front porch on the house. Five black metal mailboxes were next to the front door, signifying five rental units. I parked in front and walked up to the door. I found it interesting that with five units in the building, there weren’t any doorbells. The mailboxes were numbered one through five with no names attached. I knocked on the door several times, but no one ever responded. I walked along the side of the house to what used to be the backyard. Now, it was a gravel parking area with five trash bins, all overflowing. No cars were there, so either everyone was working, or they didn’t own cars. I returned to my car, noting that the front lawn had been replaced by weeds years ago.

The next address was on Arch Street. A two-story frame townhome with a small front porch was one of four attached units. It looked to be ten or fifteen years old, and the entire area was filled with similar structures, all low-income housing. The unit was the second of the four and a thousand times nicer than the house I’d just left. I stepped onto the front porch that had a girl’s bicycle chained to a wooden bench. At least there was a doorbell. I pressed it and heard the chime from inside.

A moment later, an Asian woman opened the door, looked at me, held up her index finger, turned around, and shouted something. A girl, maybe thirteen, appeared and said, “How can I help you?”

“Sorry to bother you. I’m looking for a man who, I believe, lived here recently.”

“What is his name?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know. This would have been recent, maybe within the last year. I have his picture here,” I said, holding up the image of bald Gerbil.

The girl said something to the woman, who I presumed was her mother. The woman shook her head, looked at me, and, in a raised voice, said something I couldn’t understand.

“She’s telling you no such person lived here because we know renting a room is against the law. And, even if he had been here, it would have only been for a week before my father told him to leave.”

“Did he have a name?”

The girl smiled and said, “Neeg ruam. It means bastard. I only saw him twice. My father and some friends told him to leave last fall. I think just before Halloween.”

I smiled at that. “But you don’t know a name.”

“No, I don’t.”

The mother repeated something. Whatever it was, it sounded like instructions.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t help, and I have to close the door.”

“Thank you,” I said as the door closed. I returned to my car and wrote the term ‘neeg ruam’ next to the address.

The third address was on the east side of town. It wasn’t the best area, not that it mattered. The address was now a vacant lot. The fourth place was a single-story side-by-side duplex that looked like post-World-War-One construction in an area called Irvine Park. At least somebody had cut the grass. There was a mail slot in the door and a short driveway on either side of the lot for a car to park. A faded green Chevy Spark with Wisconsin license plates was parked in the driveway. The passenger door on the vehicle had a two-foot crease running across it. I pushed the doorbell but didn’t hear anything from inside, so I knocked on the door.

Eventually, a woman I guessed as maybe early forties with salt-and-pepper hair answered the door. She smiled and said, “I don’t want whatever you’re selling.”

“I can’t blame you. Actually, I’m trying to find a guy who is listed as living here recently. Unfortunately, I don’t have his name, but this is his picture,” I said and held it up.

Her smile disappeared as she shook her head. “Boris Bacon, the bastard.”

“You know him?”

“I can only guess you’re with the police.”

“Actually, no. My name is Dev Haskell. I’m a private investigator, and I have a client who has had some business difficulties with this guy. You said his name is Boris Bacon?”

She nodded. “Yes, at least that was what he told me. His nickname is Gerbil. I have a restraining order against him. He stole five thousand dollars from my savings account. Tried to steal my car,” she said and nodded at the Chevy Spark. “He’s a selfish whack job, and let me caution you that when, or if, you find him, carry a gun and rubber gloves. You don’t want to touch him. He’s dreadful.”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s wonderful to hear. I’ve been stopping at various addresses where he was supposed to have lived, but either no one was home, or they had nothing nice to say about him and closed the door.”

“Not at all surprising,” she said and shook her head. “He was dreadful. It was all about him and what I could do to make life better for him. But would he cut the grass? Make the bed? Or buy groceries? By the end of the month, I was convinced that if he didn’t leave, he was going to kill me.”

“How did you meet him?”

“I met him in Born’s Bar, over on Rice Street. Have you ever been in there?”

“Only a couple of times, and I decided it wasn’t my best idea.”

“You’re preaching to the choir on that one. I met him there one night. He couldn’t have been more charming, but the next thing I knew, my bank account had been drained, and the passenger door on my car had a big dent. He threatened me, but fortunately, I recorded it on my phone. By the time the police arrived, he was gone, along with my mother’s sterling silverware.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Even so, it sounds like you may have been lucky.”

“I have a nephew on the police force, and they’ve been keeping an eye on my place. I can only hope I never, ever see him again.”

“I have an address that he supposedly moved to on Payne Avenue. Do you know if that’s where he is now?”

“Let me save you the trouble. He was renting a furnished apartment over there and fled in the middle of the night, owing a couple of months’ rent. I think he stole some furniture on his way out the door. He’s simply a dreadful person.”

“Sounds like it. Do you know if he was involved in anything like drugs or maybe selling women’s services?”

“I don’t have any direct knowledge, but it wouldn’t surprise me. He was here for maybe a month, and people constantly rang the doorbell at all hours of the night until I disconnected it. And before you ask, yes, he had a gun. I left and moved into a friend’s house until my nephew, the cop, told me it was safe to return. I had to have an alarm system installed and change all the locks, and I’m still waking up a couple of times in the middle of the night. Look, do me a favor. If you find him, please call my nephew in the police department. He’d be only too happy to deal with this idiot.”

“Well, if you should hear from him or even hear something about him, please call me and let me know. The more people we have on the lookout for Boris Bacon, the better our chances of locking him up.” I reached into my pocket, pulled out a business card, and handed it to her.

She glanced at the card. “Devlin Haskell, I know your name from somewhere.”

“Don’t believe anything you hear. I’m really a nice guy.”

She smiled and said, “You seem to be. Please don’t mention my name.”

“I don’t believe you told me your name.”

“Oh, well, that’s just me being overly careful after dealing with that slimebag, Boris. My name is Julie Rollins, and my nephew is Eddie Theisen. He’s on the police force.” As she gave me her phone number, I entered it into my cell phone.

“Julie, it’s nice to meet you. I meant what I said about calling me if you hear anything about Boris Bacon or, God forbid, you hear from him.”

“Fingers crossed. I don’t ever want to hear from that dreadful man again. A perfect day would be if they found him floating in the river.”

“Thanks for your time, and I hope you have a good rest of the week,” I said and climbed back in my car. She watched as I turned my car on. I tooted the horn, gave her a wave, and headed down the street. We drove back to the office. I pulled Morton out of the car, and we practically speed-walked around the block. Louie wasn’t in the office, and I made a couple of quick notes on my computer. I did an online search on Boris Bacon and came up with a few people, two in Germany and one in France, but no one that matched up with the image I had from Tubby.

It was heading toward 5:00 when we drove home. Morton was still involved with his marrow bone, and I let him into the backyard. I entered the house through the back door. At no surprise, Princess was stretched out on the kitchen counter. She raised her head, gave a ‘meow,’ and then waited for me to scratch her head. After a couple of minutes of personal attention, she stood and hopped onto the floor. I filled her water dish with fresh water and took two Savory Treats out of the bag in the kitchen cabinet. I held the treats and bent down next to her water dish. She knew exactly what I was doing and hurried over. She inhaled the treats, lapped up some water, and gave me another ‘meow,’ her way of saying thanks.

Morton was suddenly scratching at the door. I let him in, and he hurried over to his pillow and began working on the bone. Princess hopped up onto the kitchen table and settled in her carrier. I went upstairs and shaved, showered, and grabbed some decent clothes for Sunny Twittler’s wake.

I pulled on pressed blue trousers, a pinstriped blue and white shirt, and a tan sports coat. I debated wearing a tie, but since the only ties I had played Christmas carols if you squeezed them, I decided against that. I slipped into some brown snakeskin boots to top off my ensemble. I said goodbye to Princess and Morton and drove to the O’Halloran and Murphy funeral home. It was interesting that this was a wake I was going to as opposed to a memorial service. It seemed to be the new normal, and I wondered if that was something Sunny requested.

Four

Iarrived at the O’Halloran and Murphy Funeral Home about ten minutes before 6:00. The parking lot was full, as was Snelling Avenue in front of the building and Hartford Avenue, the side street. I ended up parking a block away, not that it was a problem since it was a lovely evening. I waited in line by the front door, slowly making my way up toward Sunny’s children, two daughters and a son. Aaron said the son worked for the Feds but didn’t mention the department. I recognized Sunny’s sister, Birdie, off to the side, talking to two other women who looked familiar. Her sky-blue hair was neatly trimmed, and she wore a three-quarter-sleeve black midi pencil dress. Perfect funeral attire.

The line slowly moved forward, and eventually, we approached the stand where you could sign in on the guest book and get a memorial card. Her name, Sonia ‘Sunny’ Twittler, was just beneath her picture. The photo appeared to be the same one that had been in the paper’s obituary, but she appeared even more beautiful because it was in color and nicely printed.

I had just finished signing my name and address in the guest book when a voice behind me said, “Are you using the right name?” I turned, and there was Aaron LaZelle.

“Yes, for a change. Although I probably misspelled it.”

He laughed and said, “I’ll grab my spot at the back of the line. I’ll see you after I make it through and give my condolences.”

“You want to step in front of me?”

“Yeah, good idea, and then everyone behind us will be pissed off because they had to wait that much longer. No, thanks, but the line’s moving, so it’ll only be a few minutes.” He headed to the back of the line, now stretching out the front door.

I continued slowly making my way forward until the couple ahead of me spoke to one of the daughters. I noticed the guy next to her, a husband or maybe her brother, kept studying me.

When the couple moved on, I stepped forward and introduced myself. “Hi, my name is Dev Haskell. Your mom used to babysit me when I was a kid. We lived in the same neighborhood, and she tried to teach me how to dance and was very nice to me. I always refer to her as my first girlfriend, although she probably never knew that and certainly would not have considered it an accurate description.”

Her eyes grew wide, and she said, “Oh, we’ve heard so much about you. Mom had all these funny stories. We always wanted to hear the one where you were twelve or thirteen, and you and some friends bought a car from someone’s brother for twenty-five dollars.”

I smiled at that. “Yeah, there were five of us and we each had five bucks that we earned from cutting grass or shoveling snow. We bought the car for twenty-five bucks, then drove through the neighborhood, honking at families. I got home at about 8:00 that night, and my folks had already gotten five or six phone calls from parents. We had to turn the keys over, and someone’s dad drove the car to a trash site that night, where they destroyed it. I think I was supposed to be grounded for three or four weeks, but after the first week, my mom had enough of me. She told me she didn’t want to see me until dinner time and let me out of the house.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s the way mom told it,” she laughed. “Kitty, Yucky, guess who this is? Dev Haskell. Remember? The kid who bought the car for twenty-five dollars?”

“Cool, Dude. Weren’t you about five?” the brother who had been studying me asked.

“No, I was much older than that. Thirteen, actually. Your mother named you Yucky?” I asked.

He shook his head and said, “Russell, actually. But my behavior led to the nickname from my sisters, and it seems to have stuck.”

“Only because he hasn’t changed,” a sister said. They all laughed and then introduced themselves.

“It’s so nice to meet you finally. We’ve heard so many stories about you. Mom would always caution us that if we didn’t behave, she was going to send us to live with you. I thought that would have been a lot of fun,” Yucky said.

“And nothing’s changed,” one of the sisters said and rolled her eyes.

“Set your sights higher than being me,” I joked. “Hey, I don’t want to hold up the line, but maybe we can talk afterward if you have the time. My pal Aaron LaZelle is in the line, and he dated your Aunt Birdie in high school.”

“Oh, absolutely, we have to get together,” Carrie, the middle sibling, replied. “I feel like I’ve known you my entire life with all the stories Mom would tell.”

“Didn’t you guys build a boat, and you sank it in the river?” Yucky asked.

“Yeah, but I’ll tell you the true story later tonight.” I laughed and stepped over to Sunny’s sister, Birdie. “Hi, Birdie. I’m Dev Haskell. We were in high school together. I was a year ahead of you with Aaron LaZelle.”

She grinned and gave me a hug and a kiss. “Oh, Dev, I know who you are. You’re the guy who never asked me out,” she said and laughed. “Thank you so much for coming. I know Sunny is pleased that you’re here.”

“I never asked you out because you were dating my best friend, Aaron.”

“Only because I wanted to get to know you.” She laughed.

“I’m not sure your parents would have approved. How have you been? Oh, and let me say I’m sorry to learn of Sunny’s passing. She was so wonderful to me growing up. I was telling her kids she was my first love. It’s only recently that I learned about her illness. I would have loved to see her.”

Birdie nodded. “Yeah, she had surgery a couple of years ago, and everything seemed fine after that, but all of a sudden, the cancer returned, and she just could never seem to recover. In a way, we were blessed that it came back so fast and furious. The last thing she would have wanted was to be a burden on the kids or live for three more years with each month being worse than the one before.”

“Yeah, I get it. I talked to Sunny’s kids for all of sixty seconds. At no surprise, they seem just as nice as she was.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” she said, squeezing my hand.

We chatted for a few more minutes, and suddenly, Aaron was introducing himself to Sunny’s children. When he was finished, he stepped over to Birdie and me. “Hi, Birdie. It’s great to see you. God bless Sunny. How have you been?”

“Life is good. No complaints. My two are around here somewhere. One’s graduated and is working for Amazon. The other graduates next year, God willing.”

“Is your husband here?” Aaron asked.

Birdie shook her head and smiled. “He’s been out of our lives for six years.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. It’s a blessing for all of us, him included. He moved to Arizona and works for an accounting firm in Scottsdale. As long as he stays there, it will give our two children a warm winter weekend and make me a lot happier. You married, didn’t you?”

Aaron nodded. “Yeah, twelve years ago this October. Our two kids are doing well in school and otherwise driving us crazy, just like they’re supposed to do.”

“And what about you, Dev. Who did you marry?”

“I haven’t been able to find a woman patient enough to deal with me for very long.”

Everyone laughed, and then Birdie moved next to me and said, “I love impossible projects.” We laughed again. Over the next ninety minutes, Aaron and I chatted with a few more people we hadn’t seen in years. Birdie, Carrie, Kitty, and Yucky had a line of people waiting to give their condolences up until almost 8:00, and then suddenly, the last couple left, and it was just Aaron and me with Birdie and Sunny’s three children.

“It’s been great meeting the three of you. Your mom was a very special person,” I said. That got me a hug from both girls, and a handshake and a pat on the shoulder from Yucky.

“Mom always told us you hung out at some bar over on Randolph Avenue,” Yucky said.

“Yeah, The Spot. I’m there almost every day. Of course, my office is just across the street, so I’ve got easy access at the end of any day.”

“And we always know where to find him if we want to bring him in for questioning,” Aaron said. “Have you ever been there?” They all shook their heads. “Dev, would you care to host?”

“Happy to. Are you sure you want to go? It’s a neighborhood place. It’s nice, but it’s not fancy.”

“That sounds perfect,” Yucky said. The three women nodded in agreement.

“It’s down at the corner of Randolph Avenue and Victoria Street. Are you familiar with the city layout?”

“Maybe we could just input The Spot on our GPS and let that do the work for us,” Yucky said.

“Oh, yeah, of course. First, I’ll need to run home and check on my roommates, Morton and Princess.”

Everyone but Aaron gave me a look.

“They’re my dog and cat,” I replied, getting another laugh.

“We’ll see you down there. We have a few things to attend to here. Maybe give us thirty or forty-five minutes,” Birdie said.

Aaron walked out with me. Of course, he happened to have found a parking place in the lot. We chatted for a minute, and he said he’d meet up with the group at The Spot. I walked down the block, hopped in my car, and drove home.

Morton and Princess were doing just fine. Morton was on his pillow and paying close attention to his marrow bone, and Princess was stretched out in her cardboard cat house watching him. I filled their food and water dishes, tossed a biscuit to Morton, set two Savory Treats next to Princess in the cat house, and locked the door behind me.

I drove to The Spot and parked behind Louie’s dented gray Ford Fiesta. I headed in the side door, right next to Louie’s usual stool. As I stepped inside, Mike, the bartender, just happened to look my way. I signaled two drinks and said, “How’s it going, Louie?”

He half-turned on his stool and said, “Oh, Dev. I didn’t expect to see you tonight. How was the wake?”

“Very nice. Aaron LaZelle was there, and I met Sunny’s three kids. They’re heading down here with Sunny’s sister, Birdie, and should be here shortly. Anything happening here?”

Louie shook his head and said, “Absolutely nothing, which is perfect. Just a nice quiet evening.”

He wasn’t kidding. Two couples sat across from one another in a booth, and two guys four stools apart stared at their half-finished glasses of beer. “Yeah, never enough of that,” I said just as Mike arrived with a beer mug and a fresh drink for Louie.

“I didn’t think we were gonna see you tonight, Dev,” Mike said as he set the mug on the bar and replaced Louie’s empty glass with a fresh drink.

“I’m meeting up with some folks in a bit. They’d heard about The Spot but have never been here before.”

“Everything okay? There was a woman in here asking about you late this afternoon. I wasn’t sure what to tell her, so I just told her that you hadn’t been in today.”

“What did she look like?”

“Oh, good looking. Blue hair, nice looking black outfit.”

“Sounds like it could be Birdie. The sister of the woman who passed away. I think she’s on her way down here. They just had a couple of things to take care of at the funeral home. In fact, when they get here, if you could run a tab, I’ll cover everything.”

“Sure thing, Dev. Happy to do it,” he said just as the front door opened, and all three women walked in, followed by Yucky.

I gave a wave, and they headed down the bar toward Louie and me.

“Been here long?” Yucky asked.

“All of maybe three minutes. Hey, this is my officemate, Louie Laufen. He’s an attorney in town. Louie, this is Birdie, Kitty, Carrie, and Yucky. Birdie is Sunny’s sister, and these are Sunny’s very special children.”

Louie nodded to the women and shook hands with Yucky just as Mike arrived.

“What can I get you, folks?”

Birdie nodded at Kitty and Carrie.

“Do you have a Sauvignon Blanc?” Carrie asked. Mike nodded. “I’ll have a glass.”

“Me too,” Kitty said.

“Better make it three,” Birdie added.

“Sir?”

“You got Summit IPA?” Yucky asked.

“We do, you want a glass or a mug?”

“I’ll take a mug and keep it coming.”

“Be right back,” Mike said and hurried down the bar.

“So this is The Spot. Mom said you were in here all the time,” Carrie said as she looked around the place.

“Well, not quite all the time. Occasionally, I step across the street to my office to see if anyone left a phone message.”

That got a chuckle from everyone. Mike returned with a tray of three wine glasses and Yucky’s beer mug.

Once they all had a glass in hand I raised my mug and said, “Let’s make a toast to your mom. A wonderful woman, a great babysitter watching over crazy kids like me, and blessed to have the three of you.”

“Amen,” the girls replied, and we all clinked our glasses. We chatted for the next thirty minutes and a second round of drinks. I got updates on what each of them was doing. Birdie was a nurse with the Veterans Administration. Kitty taught fourth grade. Carrie was an accountant at a legal firm. Yucky joked and said he “had been temporarily with the DEA, the Drug Enforcement Agency, for the last three years.” I noticed one of his sisters rolled her eyes, and he quickly changed the subject and didn’t go into any detail. I let it slide. Tonight was strictly social.

Aaron stepped in the front door, ordered a root beer from Mike, and then walked down to the end of the bar, where we were all huddled. We chatted on for another twenty minutes, and then it was time for the siblings to head home. Louie left a few minutes later, and Aaron followed him out, leaving just Birdie and me.

Five

As Aaron and Louie stepped out, Birdie took three healthy swallows and drained her glass.

“You interested in another glass of wine?”

She smiled. “I really shouldn’t, but what the hell. One more glass and another toast to Sunny.”

“Perfect.” I signaled Mike for two more drinks.

Once they arrived, we clinked glasses, and Birdie said, “Just another reminder not to waste a day. God bless you, Sunny. We’ll all be there soon enough.”

“Amen to that,” I replied, and we clinked glasses again.

“So, can I ask you a question about Sunny’s family? I keep thinking that I heard one of them was married. Is it Yucky?”

Birdie nodded. “Yes, at least as far as I know. You heard him say he’s with the DEA. He doesn’t talk about it much. Well, let me rephrase that. He doesn’t talk about it at all. They don’t have any children, which might be a good thing. He and his wife, Alice, have been married for three or four years. She just, I don’t know, she just doesn’t seem to fit in, and tonight would be a perfect example.”

“I guess I didn’t see her at the wake, so I must have—”

“You didn’t see her because she wasn’t there, and I’m guessing she probably won’t be at the funeral tomorrow. The last thing Yucky needs is for any of us to get involved. God, working in the DEA, I know they’ve been moved to a new city every ten months. It’s just the luck of the draw that he was here in town when Sunny passed away. I get the sense that whoever he reports to has been a royal pain and has him working crazy hours. I haven’t seen his wife in weeks. She’s supposedly looking for a job in town, but if I found out she was home every day ensconced in another Netflix series, it wouldn’t surprise me. He doesn’t mention her. We haven’t seen her, and like I said, our involvement would only make matters worse. Not that I wouldn’t like to sit her down and read her the riot act. But he’s already got more than enough problems. Anyway, what about you? Who are you seeing?”

“Like I said earlier, I just haven’t found a woman patient enough to put up with me despite all my good points.”

“You have good points?” Birdie asked and laughed.

“I think so. I can’t remember any of them at the moment though. What about Sunny’s husband, or should I say, former husband?”

“Yeah, former. They divorced years ago when the kids were little. He hasn’t been involved with the kids at all. She had to take him to court twice to get him to pay child support.”

“Wasn’t he in sales somewhere? I thought he was doing pretty well.”

“Yeah, he was, and then he just seemed to take a turn.” She indicated a sharp turn with her arm. “I’m not sure what the deal was. He has two other children with two other women. I don’t know this for sure, but if I found out they were one-night stands, it wouldn’t surprise me. I think the divorce was the toughest on Yucky. He liked his father, and the guy basically just left him in the dust, and now, with Yucky’s wife, it’s almost as if he married a female version of his father.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Enough women have dumped me to know it’s never enjoyable.”

“But honestly, who could blame them?” she said.

“Well, yes, there is that. Now, what about you? Are you seeing someone? Are you married?”

“Oh, I think I’m maybe a bit like you. I’ve had a couple of partners, nice people, but for whatever reason, they seem to want to move on, and as you probably know, at some point, there’s just nothing you can do.”

Mike appeared and said, “How are we doing?”

“A heavy conversation. I’d better have another,” Birdie said. She drained her glass and set it on the bar in front of Mike.

“Dev?”

“Thanks, Mike, but I’d better hold off.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

“You okay with me having another glass of wine?”

“Not a problem, Birdie. You’re your own boss. The last thing you want to do is take directions from me.”

“Oh, I don’t know, that could be interesting.”

We chatted for another forty-five minutes and two more glasses of wine for Birdie. When Mike approached again, I said, “I better close out the tab, Mike. We’ve got the funeral tomorrow morning.” I hoped Birdie got the message that she’d had more than enough to drink.

She leaned up against me and tried to focus. “I think you better take me to your place. You got me so I can’t drive, baby.” She suddenly staggered for a step, and I grabbed her so she wouldn’t fall. “Mmm, I like that. I think you know just what I want.”

Fortunately, Mike returned with the bill. I paid him, added a twenty-dollar tip, and we headed out the side door. I hung onto Birdie as we headed toward my car. There was no way I was going to let her drive. She’d be in an accident within a block, and a drunk-driving charge the night before her sister’s funeral didn’t strike me as a very good idea.

I helped her into the passenger seat and attached her seat belt. She gave me a wet, drunken kiss as she rubbed her hand on my thigh. I stepped back and hurried around to the driver’s seat. It was after midnight, and the traffic was light. I had to push her hands away a half-dozen times as I drove to my place.

I pulled into the driveway and helped her in the front door. Morton and Princess were in the kitchen, and the door was closed. I helped Birdie up the stairs and attempted to get her settled in the guest room.

“I’m going to give you exactly what you need tonight, Baby,” she said as she staggered back and forth, kicking off her heels. She turned around and leaned against the double bed. “Unzip this for me, and let’s get started.”

I unzipped her midi pencil dress and said, “I’ll be right back. I just have to let Morton outside. You can crawl into bed and wait.”

“I don’t know if I can wait,” she slurred and began to pull her dress off.

I closed the guest room door behind me and hurried downstairs. I stood at the bottom of the stairs, hoping she wouldn’t try to follow me. Fortunately, she didn’t, and after a minute or two, I headed into the kitchen. I let Morton out into the backyard. Princess appeared to be asleep. I got coffee ready for the morning, let Morton back in, and arranged plates and silverware for an early morning breakfast. I tiptoed back upstairs. The guest room door was still closed, and I stepped into my bedroom. Naked Birdie was lying in my bed, snoring, with the sheet pulled back. I tiptoed over, pulled the covers over her, grabbed my jeans and a T-shirt off the bench at the end of the bed, and headed into the guest room.

Fortunately, there’s a radio alarm clock in the guest room, and I set the alarm for 6:00 the following morning. When the alarm went off, I thought for sure I’d screwed something up, but the digital clock read 6:00, and glancing out the window, the sky was blue, and the day appeared bright. I shaved, quickly showered, then pulled on my jeans and T-shirt. I brought Birdie’s clothes and shoes into my bedroom and laid them on the bench.

She was still sound asleep, snoring, and from the position she was in, I don’t think she’d moved an inch since she’d passed out. I took hold of her shoulder and gently shook her awake. She groaned a little, turned on her side, and eventually batted my hand off her shoulder.

“Birdie, Birdie, it’s time to wake up. Birdie, wake up.”

Her eyes gradually fluttered open, and she looked at me for a long moment. Then she pulled the covers up to her chin and rolled onto her back. “Oh, my God. Did we…”

“No. You were passed out here, and I slept in the guest room. I didn’t see you naked. The only thing I did was unzip the back of your dress, and then, while I was downstairs getting things ready for this morning, you staggered in here and passed out in the bed. Not that I wouldn’t have enjoyed it, but we did not interact in any way, shape, or form.”

She slowly shook her head from side to side and groaned, “Oh, what an absolute idiot. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I—”

“I would guess it might have been the two bottles of wine you drank. But here’s the thing, it’s heading toward 7:00. You’re going to be one of the key family members at Sunny’s funeral at 11:00. Might I suggest you grab a shower while I prepare a breakfast that will include two aspirin and then I’ll drive you down to your car. Oh, and I promise this will be our secret, and let me remind you again that nothing happened.”

She closed her eyes, shook her head, and said, “I’m such an idiot.”

“I’ll see you downstairs for breakfast in thirty minutes,” I said and headed out of the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

Birdie was downstairs looking reasonably well forty-five minutes later. I placed a plate of scrambled eggs, a glass of orange juice, and two aspirin in front of her. Princess kept her distance, and Morton returned to his marrow bone after he got a head scratch from Birdie. Twenty minutes later, I left Morton in the kitchen and drove Birdie to her car, a red RAV4, parked just up the street from where I usually parked. I pulled in behind her car.

“Oh, Dev, I owe you big time. Thank you for taking care of me and maybe for behaving, although I’m still thinking about that.” She gave me a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you later this morning. I’ve got to run,” she said and hurried out of my car and into hers. She started the car, waved, and headed up the street.

I climbed out and went up to the office. It was still too early for Louie. I turned off the coffee pot, dumped the remnants down the sink, and made half a pot. I went online and looked at a dozen emails waiting for me, none of them of any interest. I didn’t want to donate to political campaigns. I didn’t need senior housing or recipes for duck breasts with apricot chutney. I used to unsubscribe, but I’m now of the opinion that if you unsubscribe, the site just sells your email address to ten other sites, and it actually increases the number of emails you don’t want.

I didn’t find anything on Boris Bacon, and after searching a couple more sites, I left Louie a note telling him I would be out for most of the day because of Sunny’s funeral and that I would see him tomorrow. I left him a P.S. message:’Louie, don’t forget to turn off the coffee pot at the end of the day.’

I headed back home, let Morton into the backyard, topped up both water dishes, set two Savory Treats on the kitchen table for Princess, and went upstairs to change. I climbed into a dark-blue pinstriped suit and a white shirt. Once again, since all my ties were Christmas-related, I didn’t wear one. I pulled on a pair of burgundy Oxford loafers and a matching belt, double-checked how I looked in the mirror, and headed downtown to Assumption Church.

The church was the oldest in St. Paul, dedicated in 1874. It served a congregation of immigrant German and Irish families and was modeled after a church in Munich, Germany. I arrived a half hour before the service was to begin, and at no surprise, the parking lot was already full. I parked almost two blocks away and walked back to the church. I stood in line to give my condolences again to the family. I spotted Birdie at the front of the church with her nieces on either side. They all looked lovely. I didn’t see Yucky anywhere and hoped there wasn’t a problem. Then I remembered what Birdie had said about his wife and hoped he didn’t have to deal with an issue there on the morning of his mother’s funeral.

The line was moving much quicker than last night’s line at the wake, and I was suddenly in front of Birdie, Kitty, and Carrie. “Great to see you lovely ladies. Thank you again for taking the time to join me at The Spot last night.”

“Our pleasure,” Carrie said.

“Is Yucky here?” I asked.

Birdie shook her head. “A work problem of some sort. He texted, saying he was home getting changed and would be on his way. He’s got this horrible person in charge of whatever they’re working on. Can you believe it? They wouldn’t even give him the day off to attend his mother’s funeral. It’s just awful.”

“Do you know the guy’s name?”

Birdie shook her head.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll make it. It looks like it will be a lovely service. I’m out of your hair. We’ll talk afterward. God bless Sunny, ladies.”

They all smiled and nodded. I took a right to the side aisle and headed toward the back of the church. I caught a wave from Aaron out of the corner of my eye and settled in next to him in a pew halfway back.

“Imagine my surprise that you’re actually up this early,” he said as I sat down.

“I’m just on my way home from last night and thought I should stop in.”

He shook his head. “What time did you get out of there last night?”

“Maybe ten minutes after you left,” I lied. “Birdie had several things to do here at the church this morning, and frankly, I was just tired and didn’t need a late night.”

He nodded and said, “Looks like a pretty full house, and this is an awfully large church.”

“Yeah, well, Sunny was a wonderful person. Such a shame.”

“I haven’t seen her son. What’s his name, Robert?”

“No, Russell, but they call him Yucky. Birdie told me he had to deal with something at work and he would get here as soon as he could. He sent her a text that he was almost on his way.”

“Yeah, he’s with the DEA and probably under the watchful eye of Gee Bieber.”

“Gee Bieber? I’ve never heard of him.”

“Gee stands for Gaylon,” Aaron said. “The guy is just a self-righteous jerk. I’ve had to deal with him a few times. I think he’s probably chased more people out of DEA than we can count. God only knows why he was promoted to his current position, let alone kept the spot. He’s just a disaster, and no one seems to have done anything about it. I can think of at least five top-notch people, three of whom retired, one quit altogether, and one begged to be transferred and finally got it. Making the kid work the morning of his mother’s funeral is par for the course. Just as he was about to hurry home, Bieber probably phoned him and wanted to meet for ‘just a few minutes’ on something that was unimportant and could have waited until tomorrow.”

“Running late,” someone half-laughed a few rows behind us. As I turned to look, a red-faced Yucky hurried up the center aisle toward his sisters and Birdie.

“Well, at least he made it with about five minutes to spare,” I said.

A few minutes later, the organ began to play, and the choir launched into a hymn. The priest and two altar boys stepped out of the sacristy and stood at the front of the church. When the hymn was finished, they slowly walked to the back of the church, with Birdie, Yucky, and the sisters following. As they walked past, the congregation stood and faced the back of the church.

Six

The service was excellent. The priest, a college friend of Sunny’s, gave the sermon. At the end of the service, the priest led the congregation down the center aisle and outside. The pallbearers carried the coffin to a hearse parked in front of the church while a bagpiper played “Amazing Grace” and other sad tunes. I had a lump in my throat as I headed into the church basement for the luncheon. I stopped at the family table and mentioned how lovely the service was. Along with Sunny’s children and Birdie, there were cousins at the table.

I joined a group of high-school classmates, and in between forkfuls of pasta and salad, we shared stories of our younger years. More than once, based on the idiotic things we’d done as youngsters, I was amazed to still be alive. As the luncheon crowd gradually thinned out, I moved over to the family table and settled into the empty chair next to Yucky. I didn’t mention whatever work problem he’d had to deal with, and I thanked them all again for their time at The Spot last night.

“How late did you stay?” Kitty asked and shot a quick look over at Birdie.

“Birdie and I were the last of our group to leave, and that was probably two minutes after Aaron LaZelle and my office mate, Louie, left. I walked your aunt to her car and went home. The one thing—” My phone suddenly rang. I checked the screen, and it was Julie Rollins calling. I figured I’d better take the call. “Please tell me you saw Boris Bacon getting arrested by the police,” I said as I got out of my chair and headed toward an empty corner of the room.

“Hi, Dev. Sorry to bother you, but I just got off the phone with my friend Lily. She called to warn me that Bacon moved into her building earlier this week. It’s a condo, but apparently, he’s renting a unit from someone who moved out a few weeks ago.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“Oh, better than that, I’ve got the unit number. It’s located in the Wilder building. It’s the tall building on—”

“It’s on St. Clair and Lexington Avenue. I know the place. They had a fire there a few years ago. There’s no smoking in the building, and some idiot caught his drapes on fire when he was smoking at his front window.”

“That’s right, that’s the place, and the unit number for Boris is, get this, thirteen-thirteen.”

“How appropriate,” I said.

“Well, I won’t be stopping at the building to see Lily, I can tell you that. I told her she might want to think about moving. No good can come from living across the hall from Boris ‘Gerbil’ Bacon. God, I can’t imagine. Well, actually, I guess I can.” I told her she better add some locks to her door and that I have a guest room if she needed a place.

“Hopefully, she’ll be okay,” I said.

“Don’t count on it. Whatever Bacon touches turns to dog poop in short order. Anyway, I thought you’d want to know.”

“Thank you, Julie. I’ll get the word out.”

“Please let me know if you hear anything about him. I want to make sure I stay as far away as possible and please don’t mention my name.”

“I promise I won’t, Julie. I’ll keep you posted if I hear anything. Thanks again.”

“My pleasure,” she said and disconnected.

As I headed back to the table, I noticed Yucky had been watching me. His sister Kitty and Birdie were talking to people as they were leaving.

“Everything okay?” Yucky asked as I sat down.

“Yeah, just an update on a guy is all. When are you heading out to the cemetery?”

“Hopefully, we’ll be leaving in about fifteen minutes. The girls need to say goodbye to a few of the remaining people. The gravesite is at Resurrection Cemetery. Do you know where that is?”

“I do. I happen to know several folks who reside out there.”

“Of course,” he said and laughed.

It was closer to a half hour before we headed out to the cemetery. There were seven cars following the hearse. I was the last one. We formed a line and drove with our headlights on. We headed down West Seventh Street to Eagle Parkway and then onto Shepard Road to the interstate and from there onto Lexington Avenue in Mendota Heights and Resurrection Cemetery.

Sunny’s gravesite was up a small hill right next to her parents. Her father had passed away some thirty years earlier from cancer, and her mother just four years ago from COVID. The pallbearers set Sunny’s coffin on the rack next to the gravesite. The priest read a passage from the Bible, led us in a couple of prayers, gave a blessing, and suddenly the event was over. The small crowd lingered for a few minutes, saying goodbye and giving hugs, and then people were leaving.

Three men on the cemetery work crew were waiting for us to leave so they could start their chores. Birdie invited the family and me to her home for, as she put it, ‘a relaxing get-together.’ I followed them back into St. Paul and to Birdie’s lovely home on Scheffer Avenue.

She had a refrigerator full of beer and wine, fresh coffee, and a table piled with bagels, corned beef, and coleslaw from Cecil’s Delicatessen, a local treasure.

I was halfway through my corned beef sandwich and listening to another story about Sunny when Yucky stepped next to me and half-whispered, “Would you mind if we had a private conversation?”

I shook my head and said, “No, not a problem.” Then I followed him out of the kitchen and onto an attached screened porch. “Everything okay?” I asked as he closed the door to the kitchen.

“Yeah, as you know, we’re always working on something. Given your work as a PI, you must be aware of how information pops up occasionally. I couldn’t help but hear you mention Boris Bacon when you got that phone call in the church basement. Do you know him, Bacon?”

I shook my head. “No, I’ve never met him. I have a client who was concerned about him. Something work related, he never told me exactly what the problem was. He wanted me to check Bacon out, although he only knew him by the nickname Gerbil. I had a couple of addresses, not very nice places. Anyway, Bacon had moved out of the places months back. I contacted a woman who has a restraining order on him. She’s very concerned Bacon might cause her problems and asked me to please stay in touch with her regarding him. Anyway, she’s the person who called and told me Bacon is a new resident in the Wilder building.”

“Oh? I know the place. Any idea how long he’s been there?”

I shook my head. “No real idea. The woman told me anywhere from a couple of days to maybe a week or two, but that’s just a guess.”

“What are you checking out?”

“Oh, let’s just say he’s been involved in some questionable activity. I’ve only been aware of the guy for a couple of days. I want to make sure the woman who called remains safe. She’s helped me out in the past,” I lied. “This Bacon is a bit unusual for me. My business is usually checking out a spouse who may be having an affair or verifying employment history on a job applicant.”

“Well, I can tell you Boris Bacon has been arrested several times. He served twelve months in 2015 and was arrested three months after his release. That led to him serving fifty months. Since that last release, he’s been a person of interest, but thus far, he’s avoided arrest and prosecution. We believe he’s still involved in the drug trade, but we’ve been able to gather little to no information, certainly nothing that would lead to an arrest. He seems to move his residence about every ninety days, which may suggest he’s still involved in the drug trade, but it could also mean he’s broke.”

“It sounds like fifty months in prison might have served as a finishing school for him.”

Yucky smiled and said, “Probably not far from the truth, and he wouldn’t be the first. Let me say he’s become very good at keeping a low profile. He’s risen above doing any street trafficking. He doesn’t own an expensive automobile, a private jet, or have beautiful porn stars on his arm. From the little time I’ve watched him, he shops in small grocery stores, buys sale items, and seems to have a penchant for frozen yogurt and sea salt caramels.”

“Do you report to Gee Bieber?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I’ve dealt with him on a case or two over the years. I found him rather difficult,” I said, paraphrasing what Aaron had told me, although I’d never met the guy and couldn’t have picked him out of a crowd of two.

“Your description is accurate, although I wouldn’t use such nice terms. He makes a tough business much more difficult than it needs to be.”

“And you’ve only been back here a short time, correct? Maybe just a year?”

“More like ten months. We’ve moved five times in the past four years, which has been hard for my wife. That, plus the hours I work, the middle of the night, weekends, holidays. You saw me rushing in just before the service began this morning. I’m just crossing my fingers, and I hope I can last until our next relocation. Maybe things will finally begin to settle down.”

“Any idea when that will be?”

He shrugged and said, “Probably not until my wife lands a job that she would enjoy, at which time the rug will be pulled out from underneath us again, and we’ll be sent to God knows where.”

“Well, hang in there, and if I can do anything to help you, please don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thanks, you happen to have a business card?”

I shook my head. “I should, but I don’t. How ’bout we trade phone numbers?”

He pulled out his iPhone and said, “Okay, go ahead.”

I gave him my number and then brought up my contact list. I had to go through adding a new contact three times before I finally got it right and added him to my list.

“Thanks, Yucky. I got it. Anything else I can help you with?”

He shook his head. “No, this has been great. Thanks for the update on Bacon. Like I told you, the guy keeps a very low profile.”

“Well, hopefully, that will do some good. I should get back and thank Birdie and the ladies. Nice to get to know you, Yucky,” I said and held out my hand.

We shook and then walked back into the kitchen. He grabbed another beer. I checked out the large platter stacked with homemade chocolate chip cookies that was now on the kitchen table. I grabbed a couple and took a bite. They were delicious. Once I finished the second cookie, I thanked everyone, and Birdie walked me to the door.

“Thanks for giving up your day, Dev. It’s been wonderful to see you again and thank you for being the perfect gentleman last night. My apologies for over-serving myself at The Spot. I just can’t believe Sunny is gone. God.”

“Oh, she’s up there keeping an eye on all of us. If it weren’t for her, I probably wouldn’t have made it past ten years old, given all the idiotic things I did as a kid.”

“Don’t limit it to just those early years,” Birdie said and laughed.

“True, very true,” I replied.

I got a peck on the cheek, and then she opened the front door, and I made my way to the car. I debated going to the office and decided I would stop home first. I let Morton out into the backyard, topped up the water dishes, gave Princess a head scratch, and went upstairs to change clothes. I was down in the office twenty minutes later. Louie was at his picnic table talking to someone on the phone. I filled my coffee mug with the dregs from the pot, turned off the burner, and settled in at my desk. I’d been on the computer for a good ten minutes before Louie could end his call.

“How’d things go?” he asked.

“Very nice. They’re a great bunch of people. Sunny’s buried next to her folks, and her kids and her sister are doing okay. At the end of the day, it’s what’s going to happen to all of us, and it’s not fun.”

“Yeah, well, at least you met the kids and her sister. They all seemed like nice folks.”

“Yeah, they are.” We chatted for a bit, and then Louie packed up his computer bag and headed out to a meeting with a client. I decided the best place for me might be The Spot, so I headed over there.

Seven

As I stepped in the door, Mike looked up and said, “The usual?”

“If you would, please.” I headed down to the end of the bar and Louie’s stool. It was the first time since I didn’t know when that Morton wasn’t on the leash, pulling my arm out of the socket in an effort to get down to Louie and the bag of pork rinds he always got. I considered getting a bag but then reminded myself that Morton wasn’t with me.

Mike delivered my beer, and I sat there for ten minutes, thinking there was something I had forgotten to do, but I couldn’t remember what in the world it was. The bar was unusually quiet for this hour when the front door opened, and a man stepped in. He was what I’d call average size. He wore glasses, and his head was shaved. He had a neatly trimmed goatee. He was dressed in tan cotton slacks and a blue St. Paul Saints T-shirt. He looked vaguely familiar as he seemed to study the room, apparently looking for someone. He walked down the bar past the two guys sitting on bar stools, stepped around the corner, smiled, and held out his hand. “You must be Dev Haskell, the Private Investigator.”

“I am, and you are?” I asked as I shook his hand.

“I hear I’m the man you’ve been looking for. I’m Boris Bacon.”

I’m sure I couldn’t hide my shocked look, and I stuttered, “N-n-n-nice to meet you, Boris. Umm, I’m not looking for you. I’m not sure where you got that, but I—”

“Well, someone with your name has been looking for me. I thought it might save both of us some time if I met you here. This is your hangout, isn’t it? I mean, I think you’re here almost every day. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m usually—who told you I was looking for you? I am a private investigator, but unless you recently applied for a job at an insurance company, I wouldn’t be investigating you.”

He laughed. “Good, that’s good, Haskell. Look, I’m just trying to stay safe and follow the rules, and I’m happy to answer any questions you might have. I’m living the simple life, trying to behave, and staying out of trouble.”

“Can I get you something?” Mike asked.

Bacon flashed a quick smile and said, “No thanks. Sorry, but I gave up alcohol some years back and haven’t missed it. Tell you what, maybe bring Haskell a fresh beer. He looks like he could use it.”

“Dev?” Mike asked.

“What? Oh yeah, sure, Mike. Another beer, please.”

As Mike walked down the bar, Bacon asked, “So, you got any questions? I read the Bible every day, help serve lunch at the homeless shelter over on East Seventh, and I strive to be the most boring guy in town.”

I nodded, still too dumbfounded to even speak.

“Well, okay, I guess as long as I’ve answered all your questions, there’s nothing else to say. Feel free to get in touch if you want to know anything. Oh, and give your dog Morgan a nice pat for me. I like watching the two of you. Have a good evening,” he said. He made his way to the front door, turned, waved, and left.

I waited five seconds, then stepped out the side door to see where he went. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find him. I quickly walked over to the corner and glanced up and down the street. I didn’t see anyone running away, and no one was climbing into a car. I stood on the corner for a couple of minutes but never caught a glimpse of Boris Bacon. Eventually, I reentered The Spot through the front door.

“Oh, Dev. I was beginning to wonder. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, Mike. At least I think so,” I said and shook my head. I walked down to where I’d been before. A fresh beer was on the bar next to my almost empty glass. How in the hell did Boris ‘Gerbil’ Bacon know I was checking him out? Did Yucky say something? Did Julie Rollins threaten him with my name? Tubby or Fat Freddy?

It was nice of him to offer to buy me a beer, but he walked out without paying. I finished the beer in about two minutes, left a twenty-dollar bill on the bar for Mike, and hurried out the side door. I looked over my shoulder a half-dozen times on the way to my car, then did a quick walk around the vehicle to make sure the tires weren’t slit. I raised the hood and looked for anything attached to the engine. Everything appeared to be okay. The car had been locked, so I doubted he could have gotten inside. Still, I checked under the seats, the glove compartment, and in the console. Nothing looked out of order, so I buckled my seat belt, inserted my key, and turned on the ignition. The car started like always. I waited a long moment just to be sure and then took a different route home, driving down side streets and continually checking my rearview mirror to make sure no one was following me.

I turned into my driveway and pulled into the garage for a change. I had let Morton out into the backyard when I came home before. Now, he was stretched out on the back porch. He raised his head as I stepped out of the garage, gave me a couple of welcome barks as I came up the stairs, and we entered the kitchen.

I hurried to the front door. Everything seemed fine. There was no indication someone had attempted to break in. Princess was stretched out on the kitchen counter, and she gave me a ‘meow.’ I replied with a head scratch and gave her a couple of Savory Treats. Then I tossed a biscuit to Morton, who was already stretched out on his pillow with his marrow bone.

I went through the entire house. Everything looked okay. I wedged a kitchen chair beneath the doorknobs on the front and back doors and went upstairs to my bedroom. Everything appeared to be just as I’d left it. I debated calling Julie, Yucky, and Tubby but decided against it. If one of them had given Bacon the information on me, the last thing I wanted to do was alert him to the fact that he had me worried. I considered pouring myself a whiskey and decided against it. I knew one wouldn’t be enough and I didn’t need a deep sleep tonight.

I brought Morton up into the bedroom. If there was someone outside in the middle of the night, he’d hear them and probably alert me with a growl. I placed my nine-millimeter pistol on the bedside table and crawled into bed. I searched Boris Bacon on my laptop for the next three hours and never found any new information.

I woke up two different times in the middle of the night, went through the first floor carrying my pistol, and left the lights off. Nothing appeared out of order, and no one was on my front porch or in the backyard. I eventually fell into a deep sleep until my morning alarm went off. I dressed, went downstairs, and had coffee and toast for breakfast.

Morton was down forty minutes later, and Princess began her morning routine shortly afterward. We were down in the office before Louie. I checked, and there was no sign of a break-in the night before. I made coffee and was studying the apartment across the street with my binoculars when Louie pulled in behind my car.

I filled his coffee mug and had it waiting on the picnic table for him before he entered. After taking a few sips and recovering from having to climb up the flight of stairs to the office, he asked, “So, did you have a nice night?”

I debated for a moment and decided to tell him about Boris Bacon appearing in The Spot.

Once I finished, Louie sat at his picnic table, shaking his head. “What in the hell was that about?”

“I wish I knew. He got the information from somewhere. I doubt it was Julie Rollins or Yucky. My money’s on Tubby Gustafson or Fat Freddy.”

“But didn’t they tell you to find out everything you can on Gerbil, or I guess Bacon, and gave you a timeline?”

“Yeah, forty-eight hours. I don’t know. Maybe they thought it would help to get me more involved. Whatever the reason, it was no surprise to Boris Bacon that I’m checking him out. Just a very strange event that lasted two minutes and kept me awake for the better part of the night.”

I called Aaron LaZelle. I had listened to the fourth ring and was ready to leave a message when he answered, “Yeah, Dev. What’s up?”

“Hi, Aaron, you got a minute to meet with me? I had a strange experience at The Spot last night, and I—”

“What happened? Did your bartender pal cut you off? Or did some irate husband read you the riot act?”

“So not funny. No, Boris Bacon came into The Spot and introduced himself to me.”

“Bacon? Who was he with?”

“That’s the strange thing. He came in looking for me, introduced himself, shook hands, and said he heard I was looking for him. Then, on his way out, he told me to give my dog Morgan a nice pat for him.”

“But your dog’s name is Morton.”

“That’s not the point. The point is, he knew I had a dog. Yeah, he mispronounced the name, but he was close enough, and he knew I was a regular at The Spot.”

“Well, obviously, someone gave him that information.”

“You think? I’m wondering if you could put me in touch with someone in the department, and maybe I—”

“Actually, we have a visitor here now who’s been keeping an eye on Bacon. Although the last we know is that he had disappeared. Wherever he was staying, he up and left in the middle of the night, and we haven’t been able to locate him. If you want to come down, it just might encourage this guy to open up with information. He hasn’t been giving us very much thus far.”

“This could be perfect. I just got an address. I haven’t confirmed it, and since Bacon seems to know way more about me, I’m a little hesitant to get too close, but I’d be happy to pass on what I know.”

“How soon can you get down here?”

“Fifteen minutes,” I replied.

“Come on down. I can think of a couple of people who would be interested.”

“I’ll see you shortly,” I said and disconnected.

“Things looking a little better?” Louie asked. He was focused on his computer screen at the moment.

“I’m about to find out. You going to be here for another hour?”

“Unless something comes up, I should be here all day. Take your time. Hope you get some answers.”

“Thanks, I’ll get back as soon as I can and deal with the W-A-L-K,” I said, spelling it out and nodding toward Morton, who was curled up on his pillow with his marrow bone. I opened a desk drawer, took out a biscuit, and tossed it over to Morton as I opened the office door. He snatched the biscuit in mid-air and turned away from me so he wouldn’t have to share. “See you, Louie,” I said, closing the door behind me.

I stopped just inside the front door of the building and looked out to see if I could spot someone sitting in a parked car, or God forbid, anyone resembling Bacon. Everything looked okay, and I hurried across the street and got in my car. I locked the doors as I settled into the driver’s seat. I started the car and, just like the night before, took a roundabout way down to the police station, constantly checking my rearview mirror. No one appeared to be following me.

I pulled into the parking lot across the street from the station, quickly checked as I climbed out, and then hurried inside. I looked out the window to see if a car might be lingering, but the street was empty.

As I approached the lobby counter and the three officers behind it, the Sergeant in charge gave me a nod and said, “Haskell, you’re here to see Lieutenant LaZelle, right?”

“Yes, he’s expecting me.”

“Yeah, we know, he called a couple of minutes ago. I’ll let him know you’re here. Grab a seat,” he said and nodded toward the rows of chairs off to the side. There were about a dozen people seated in the lobby, all sitting apart except for two people, a man and an older woman. The man looked nervous, and the woman seemed to be giving him instructions. I figured she was probably his attorney. I settled into one of the plastic chairs in the first row.

It was less than five minutes later when the steel security door opened, and Detective Bob Newell called, “Haskell, Devlin Haskell.”

I jumped out of my chair and hurried over. “Thanks for coming down to get me, Bob. Good to see you again,” I said as we shook hands and headed down the hall to the elevators.

Eight

We took the elevator up to the third floor and, at no surprise, bypassed the door to the Homicide Department, went around the corner, and entered Interview Room Two. “LaZelle should be here any minute. I’m going to grab a coffee. You want one or maybe a soda?” Newell asked as we stepped into the room.

“Thanks. I’d love a coffee, black.”

“Back in a minute, grab a seat,” he said, indicating the metal-topped table with four chairs. I had just settled onto the chair reserved for criminals that was bolted to the floor. Newell hadn’t been gone thirty seconds when the door opened, and Aaron stepped in with a man behind him I’d never seen before.

“Dev,” Aaron said as they approached. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“Thanks, but Detective Newell just left to get one for me.”

“Great. Dev, I want to introduce you to Supervisory Special Agent Gaylon Bieber with the DEA. Agent Bieber, this is private investigator Dev Haskell.” Aaron flared his eyes at me as he spoke, suggesting I not make one of my comments.

“How do you do, sir? It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said as I stood and held out my hand.

“Good morning.” Bieber nodded and ignored my hand. “I’d like to get started if you don’t mind, Lieutenant. I’ve got a lot on my plate.”

“Of course, sir. Just as soon as Detective Newell returns. Please take a seat,” Aaron said, indicating the two chairs across from me.

If I’d known Bieber was the ‘special guest,’ I would have saved the criminal chair for him. Handcuffing him and chaining him to the table would have been fun. Unfortunately, he sat down in one of the interviewing officer’s chairs. He pulled a yellow legal pad from his computer bag and carefully aligned a pen precisely parallel to the legal pad. Aaron took the chair next to him, and since Newell was getting coffee for me, it seemed appropriate that I returned to the chair that was bolted to the floor.

Bieber cleared his throat and said, “Now, from what I understand, you—”

“Sorry it took so long,” Newell called out as he stepped into the interview room carrying a paper coffee cup in each hand.

Bieber gave him a look that would kill. When he turned to face me again, Newell grinned and stuck out his tongue. He set the paper coffee cup in front of me and settled into the chair next to me and across from Aaron.

“As I was saying,” Bieber said and quickly glanced at Newell. “I’ve been informed that you have some information regarding the location of one Boris Bacon, a twice-convicted drug dealer.”

“Yes, sir. I received a call from a source who provided the address to Bacon’s suspected location. I have not had the opportunity to confirm the information. I’ve already checked out three or four supposed previous locations, and he wasn’t at any of those.”

“What, exactly, is your interest in Boris Bacon?”

“I have no real interest in him. I have a client who is aware of who he is and what he has been found guilty of doing, namely drugs. My client simply wanted to be sure Bacon was not residing nearby.”

“What’s your client’s name?” Bieber asked as he picked up his pen.

“That’s privileged information that I’m not at liberty to divulge.”

“You are aware that I’m with the DEA, correct?”

“Yeah, and I’m required to uphold the law and maintain my client’s privacy.”

Bieber looked over at Aaron for support.

“Unfortunately, sir, Mr. Haskell is correct. The law clearly states that his client’s privacy is—”

Bieber shook his head. “Very well, where is Boris Bacon’s new location?”

“My understanding is that he is now residing in the Wilder building.”

“I’ve never heard of it. Where exactly is it located?”

“It’s located here, in St. Paul, in the 55105 zip code. The building is sixteen stories tall, and I believe it has two hundred and thirty-two units.”

“Good Lord, and what is Bacon’s unit number?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t know that.”

He looked like he would say something but then changed his mind. “Is there anything else you wish to share?”

“Unfortunately, that’s all I know at this point, and as I mentioned, I haven’t been able to confirm any of this.”

He shook his head as he returned the legal pad and pen to his computer bag and said, “Hardly worth the effort. Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me. I’ll see myself out and get back to work. Mr. Haskell, it’s been interesting. Good day.”

We watched as he exited the room, and the door closed behind him.

Aaron held his hand up. “Wait a moment, please.” His lips moved, and he seemed to be counting to ten. Then nodded and said, “Okay, let’s hear it.”

“What an absolute prick,” Newell said.

“Aaron, if you’d told me he would be here, I wouldn’t have come. I’ve only heard random things about him, none of them positive.”

“How in the hell did he get to the position he’s in?” Newell asked.

“Well, I heard from a guy that they’ve lost four or five agents this year. Either through retirements or transfers, or, I think, one agent just outright quit. He’s liable to be the only one left in another year,” I said.

“Someone’s asleep at the switch somewhere,” Newell replied.

Aaron nodded and said, “Thanks for behaving, Dev. Is that really where Bacon is, the Wilder building?”

“As far as I know, but like I said, I haven’t had a chance to verify that, and frankly, there’s no reason for me to spend the time or the effort. If the DEA checks it out and confirms that he actually is there, will they let you know?”

“Probably not. But there’s always a chance. We were involved in both of Bacon’s arrests and, actually, on the larger one where he ended up serving five years, we turned the case over to them only because, at the time, they had the manpower to deal with it. That was before Supervisory Special Agent Gaylon Bieber was transferred here.”

“How long has he been assigned here?”

Aaron looked over at Newell. “Maybe a year?”

“No more than eighteen months,” Newell said. “Once he arrived, the various doors seemed to begin to close. Fair comment, LT. Now all our interactions are formal?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

“Well, thanks for your time, guys. If nothing else, it was interesting,” I said.

“Let me take you down to the first floor,” Aaron said. “Just to make sure you leave the building.”

I shook hands with Detective Newell, and Aaron led me down the hall, past the door to the Homicide Department, and onto the elevator. Once we stepped onto the elevator and the doors closed, he asked, “You have anything else to tell me?”

“Only that I’m sorry you have to deal with that guy. I heard rumors that he was a pain-in-the-ass, but man. Like you said, talk about closing the door on any interaction with people or departments. Are they seeing the same thing over in Minneapolis?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. Bieber’s got this sense of high and mighty, and you saw it firsthand.”

We stepped off the elevator and walked toward the security door. “Thanks again for putting up with it, Dev. The last thing we need is someone pissing him off, and he shuts down what little information we’re getting now.”

“Good luck, glad I could attempt to help.”

He laughed at that, we shook hands, and I went out of the lobby and to my car. Once in the car, I thought about calling Yucky and came up with a better idea. I drove back to the office, climbed out of my car, and went into The Spot.

Jimmy, the daytime bartender, smiled at me and said, “Having a bad day, Dev? Beer or something stronger?”

“Nothing for me, Jimmy. I’d like to use the phone for a minute or two.”

“Help yourself,” he said and returned to loading the cooler with cans of beer and white wine bottles.

I took out my cell phone, brought up Yucky’s phone number, and punched in the number on the bar phone. I ended up leaving a message. “Hi, Yucky, we met yesterday. Give me a call when you have a minute,” I said and hung up. Hopefully, he’d know not to call me back on his cellphone, where a record of the call would be left.

“Thanks, Jimmy. Have a good day,” I said and headed to the office.

As I opened the office door, Morton jumped off his pillow and tried to hurry past me. I grabbed his collar and connected the leash just as Louie said, “Oh, yeah. He may need to go outside.”

Morton pulled me out the door before I could respond. We hurried down the stairs and outside. We made it halfway around the building in about five seconds. Morton was pulling on the leash but assumed the position and relieved himself in the middle of the sidewalk. I pulled a green plastic poop bag from the dispenser attached to the leash, acquired his deposit, and placed it in the dumpster behind the building. From there, we began our usual walk. Despite his earlier activity, he managed to leave a greeting on the two fire hydrants along the way. I looked over my shoulder about every fifteen steps, scanning the neighborhood for Boris ‘The Gerbil’ Bacon. Fortunately, I never saw him, and we eventually made it back to the office.

“Oh wow, that was quick. Everything go okay?” Louie asked.

“Yeah, no problem. Just glad we made it out of the building before he relieved himself.”

“Yeah, he’d been giving me hints for the last hour.”

I was about to respond, but my cell phone rang, which saved the day. I pulled it out of my pocket, didn’t recognize the number, but then remembered my call to Yucky. I swiped the screen and answered with, “Haskell Investigations.”

“Dev?”

“Hi, Yucky. Thanks for returning my call.”

“Not a problem. I wasn’t sure it was you. What’s up that you’re suddenly undercover?”

“It’s been a crazy time since I left Birdie’s yesterday afternoon. First of all, I want to give you what I think might be a current address for Boris Bacon.”

“Does this have anything to do with the phone call you got yesterday as things were winding down at the luncheon?”

“Yeah, it does, but here’s what happened.” I went on to tell him about Bacon coming into The Spot looking for me.

“Describe him to me, please.”

I tried my best to describe him, mentioning the shaved head, his height, and the black-frame glasses he wore.

“Did he have a beard?” Yucky asked.

“Yes, he did. Well, actually, it was a trimmed goatee.”

“Oh wow, that sure sounds like him.”

“Yeah, and he knew I had a dog and that I’m in The Spot at the end of almost every day.”

“Sure sounds like him, and you don’t know how he knew where you were?”

“No idea. I suspect it might have come from one of my clients, either Tubby Gustafson or his employee, Fat Freddy Zimmerman.”

“Gustafson is one of your clients? What in the world do you do for him?”

“Usually, he just wants some general information. We can talk about it later.”

“Is someone with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, you mentioned Bieber’s new address.”

“Yeah, do you know where the Wilder building is?”

“That tall building roughly at the corner of Lexington and St. Clair Ave?”

“Yeah, that’s it. He’s supposedly in unit thirteen-thirteen. But I haven’t confirmed that. Here’s the deal,” I said and told him about pain-in-the-ass, Gaylon Bieber. “I told him about the Wilder building, but I didn’t give him the unit number, and I didn’t tell him about Bacon finding me in The Spot bar.”

“Any idea what Bieber was doing at the station?”

“I think it was just bad luck on my part. He happened to be there when I called my pal, and I think they were hoping a meeting with him might help open some doors as far as interaction with you guys. Unfortunately, Bieber acted like such a privileged butthead that he had just the opposite effect.”

“No surprise. You got time to take a little drive?”

“I might. What did you have in mind?”

“How about I pick you up in a half hour, and we drive past that Wilder building?”

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll see you then.”

“Thanks, you’re just across the street from The Spot, right?”

“Actually, kitty-corner. I’ll be waiting outside.”

“See you shortly,” he said and disconnected.

Nine

Ihad been standing outside our building for a couple of minutes when a dark-blue Toyota Corolla pulled up in front of me, and the window on the passenger door lowered. “Can you give me directions to The Spot bar?” Yucky called out.

“I better climb in and show you the way, otherwise, you’ll get lost. You know where you’re going?” I asked

“The Wilder building, right?”

“Yeah.”

He took a left at the corner, drove past The Spot, and up toward St. Clair Avenue. “So you finally met our man in charge, the great ‘Gee’ Bieber.”

“You must have gotten that description from him. How in the hell did he ever make it into the position he’s in? Just the reaction of the two officers I was with, the guy was an absolute jerk. I have to tell you, if they were trying to get information they desperately needed from me, they would have never let him in the room. If I were some drug guy your team nailed, Gaylon Bieber would be the last guy you’d want to be involved. He’s very impressed with himself, and in just the few minutes I had to deal with him, I can’t understand why in the world he would think that. His actions basically shut down any questioning. Now, a long-time, very close friend was at the table, so I gave him the address. But I’m telling you, Bieber came across as a major pain-in-the-ass. The two cops I dealt with said the Minneapolis Department feels the same way about him.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely a detriment. We work at keeping him out of the picture. We’ve all had incidents where his attitude has completely screwed things up. So, you mentioned you met Boris Bacon last night. God, Haskell, you can sure pick ’em. The ‘Gerbil’ last night and Bieber this morning. Did you happen to see what kind of vehicle Bacon was driving?”

“Unfortunately, no, and not for lack of trying. He went out the front door, and I went out the side door, hoping to get a look, but he was gone. He wasn’t in a car or walking down the street. He simply disappeared. I looked around for a few minutes but never spotted him.”

“And you said he knew your dog’s name?”

“Yeah, well, first off, he knew I had a dog. He called him Morgan and my dog’s name is Morton, but so what? Just the fact that he knew my personal information and knew I would probably be in The Spot. I never met the guy before. Never had any interaction with him, never investigated him, nothing.”

“Any idea where his information may have come from?”

“I have a pain-in-the-ass relationship with Tubby Gustafson. I don’t use or sell drugs. Tubby contacts me when he wants some questions answered. I work at playing both sides of the street where he’s involved. He has helped me on rare occasions. I’m usually forced to interact with his stooge assistant, Fat Freddy Zimmerman, to get to Tubby. Then he inevitably dismisses me after two or three minutes by saying something along the lines of ‘Why do I even bother?’ He always yells ‘Silencio’ when he doesn’t like what I’m saying. I should add that he never, ever pays me. He just threatens me and then doesn’t carry through on the threat once I can provide him with the information he needs. He’s ruthless, highly successful in his line of work, and although they’d never admit it, he apparently is able to gain all sorts of favors from local and state politicians. Anyway, to answer your question, I would guess Tubby is working with Boris Bacon in some way, shape, or form, and I’m certain that he’ll eliminate Bacon when the time is right.”

Yucky turned off of St. Clair Avenue and onto the entrance to 35E. Just before pulling onto the highway, he turned into the entrance to the Wilder Estate. The condominium building was just ahead as we drove through the area of single-story townhomes. We pulled into the parking lot a minute later. Yucky parked, and we stared at the curved sixteen-story brick building in front of us.

“Quite the place,” Yucky said.

“Yeah, I can’t believe anyone here would be pleased with Boris Bacon moving in.”

“My guess is he’ll be living here under an alias.”

“So what do you guys do? Sit out here and see if you can spot him? Maybe attach a tracking device to his car or figure a way to tap his phone or computer?”

Yucky shrugged. “Well, if we had the manpower, we could put someone out here. A better plan would be to get inside and maybe pretend to be a maintenance person. We could vacuum the hallway in front of his place and monitor it. We’ll first have to establish that he’s actually living here and the unit he’s in is thirteen-thirteen. Once we confirm that, we can begin to track him and hopefully get in the place somehow. As you know, it’s a long game.”

“Well, if I can ever be of any help, don’t hesitate to get in touch.”

“Thanks, Dev, I appreciate that. I’ll pass the address on to our team. We’ll keep it hidden from Bieber. We have a growing list of things we’re aware of that he has either passed on or has had us do something completely opposite that only served to mess things up. There’s something going on with him that isn’t right, but again, it’s a long game. You have time for a sandwich? I’m buying.”

“Yeah, I can do that. In fact, I’d enjoy it. It’s been really nice to get to know you, Yucky.”

“Well, the pleasure has been all mine. My mom told us so many stories about you, and when she yelled at me, she’d tell me to stop acting like you. It’s one of the things that eventually got me into this line of work. If for no other reason than to not end up behind bars.”

We both laughed, and we headed down to Shamrocks Bar & Grill for lunch. I ordered my favorite bourbon bacon chicken sandwich and a root beer. Yucky went the route of a Juicy Nookie Burger, a stuffed American cheeseburger. We traded stories back and forth about his mother, Sunny, and in between mouthfuls of food, we had a lot of laughs. When he dropped me back at the office, we promised to stay in touch, and he drove off.

I climbed the stairs up to the office. Louie was absent. Morton was involved with what remained of his marrow bone. I turned off the empty coffee pot, settled in at my desk, and placed a call to Julie Rollins.

“Hi, Dev,” was how she answered.

“Hi, Julie, just checking in. Is everything going okay with you?”

“Yeah, I think so. A strange car has driven past a couple of times, and I thought it was slowing down when it passed my house, but I can’t be sure. Anyway, it’s probably just me being a worry wart.”

“What does the car look like?”

It’s shiny black, and I think it’s a Mercedes. The windows are tinted, so I can’t tell who’s driving it.”

“When was the last time you saw it drive by?”

“Oh, earlier this morning. I think around 10:00. That was the third time I saw it. I haven’t seen it since. I closed my drapes just in case Boris was going past and trying to look into my house.”

Julie’s house wouldn’t be the first one on my list to consider breaking into. That said, maybe Boris Bacon was driving past. But then, maybe it was just someone checking addresses or delivering a package.

“Well, if you see it again, give me a call. Hopefully, it’s nothing.”

“Crossing my fingers, Dev. Thanks for checking in. I’ll keep an eye out. Otherwise, everything is okay.”

“That’s good. Hopefully, it will stay that way. I’ll talk to you later,” I said and disconnected.

I’d been on my computer for maybe twenty minutes when Louie wandered back in. Either he’d been shot in the chest, or he’d been at Rooster’s, and it was barbecue sauce on his shirt. “How was Rooster’s?” I asked.

He gave me the thumbs-up and settled into his chair. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. “At no surprise, Rooster’s was great. Nice crowd. I had the pulled pork and a double order of fries. Where’d you go?”

“Oh, I just had lunch with Sunny’s son, Yucky. He’s a nice guy, and we just traded stories. We—”

My phone rang, and my first thought was it was Julie calling me back after spotting the black Mercedes again. I pulled my phone out and mumbled, “Oh shit,” just before I answered the call. “Hi, Heidi. How are you doing? Can you still make it to dinner tonight?”

There was a pause, and then she said, “Don’t even go there, you idiot. We were supposed to go out to dinner last night. You had a wake to go to the night before, and then you promised to take me out last night, but you never showed up. You never even called.”

“Are you sure? I distinctly remember telling you that—”

“That we would go to dinner the next night, which was supposed to be last night, dumbbell.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought I told you tonight. I worked until late last night, and I wouldn’t have been very good company after that.”

“Don’t limit it to just last night.”

“Well, can you make it tonight?”

“Yes, I can, and how about this? I’ll choose the restaurant.”

“Oh, that would be great,” I said and shook my head, thinking, Damn, damn, damn. “What time would you like me to pick you up?”

“Let’s say 6:30. I’ll want you to be on time. Now, I’m going to hang up and make a reservation. Do not show up wearing a T-shirt and jeans. We will be going somewhere nice. Not one of those dive bars you like that serve lousy frozen pizza.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Heidi. I’ll see you at 7:30.”

“I said 6:30, Dev!”

“I know. I was just double-checking,” I said, but she had already hung up.

“Big night?” Louie asked.

“Let’s just say I’ll be forced to be on my best behavior. She did not sound pleased.”

“Gee, isn’t that strange, and all you did was stand her up last night.”

“Yeah, I wish I remembered. It would have been a lot more fun than having Boris Bacon find me in The Spot.”

I wasted the rest of the afternoon looking for information on Boris Bacon. I phoned Julie Rollins just before 5:00 to see if she had seen the black Mercedes driving past. She hadn’t and was beginning to think she may have been wrong in thinking it was the ‘Gerbil’ checking her out.

Morton and I joined Louie at The Spot for a half hour. I had one beer. Morton devoured a bag of pork rinds, and we headed home. I got cleaned up for my date with Heidi and slipped on the same trousers, pinstriped shirt, tan sport coat, and snakeskin boots that I wore to Sunny’s wake. I gave Princess a head scratch and a couple of treats, tossed Morton a biscuit, and headed to Heidi’s.

I had to ring the doorbell several times before she finally answered. The last time I saw her, her hair had been dyed a copper color with blonde highlights and looked great. Tonight, it was trimmed short and dyed hot pink with bits of white highlights. I knew better than to criticize. Besides, she was dressed in a very short, tight, black mini with a black top that advertised her gorgeous cleavage. Dangling down into her cleavage was a necklace of pear-shaped rhinestones that seemed to encourage everyone to stare. She wore black patent leather heels. “Oh, wow, Heidi, you look hot. I love what you did with your hair.”

She shook her head as she glanced at my snakeskin boots and said, “You are always so full of it, Dev. I’m sure you’re not staring at my hair. But thank you all the same. Let me grab my purse, and we can head out. I made a 7:00 reservation at The River Grill.”

“Oh, that sounds great. I really like that place,” I lied. The River Grill was a steakhouse along the river in downtown. I knew it was going to cost me an arm and a leg. “I was thinking you were going to get a reservation at the Summit House because they have a new head chef, a woman, I believe. I’ve been reading wonderful things about her. I can’t recall her name, but she’s supposed to be fantastic.”

Heidi shot me a look that suggested she didn’t believe a word. “I don’t know where you get your information, but I don’t think they’ve changed their menu in years. Their head chef is still the same guy who’s been there since they first opened ten years ago. He learned to cook at McDonald’s, and that’s why their menu is cheeseburgers, french fries, and onion rings.”

“Yeah, but they serve all these specially made burgers and—”

“No, Dev. We’re not going there. It was a lot of work to get a last-minute reservation at The River Grill, so let’s get moving.” She picked up her Gucci mini bag with the gold chain and said, “Come on. I don’t want to be late.”

We walked down her front sidewalk, and ever the gentleman, I held the passenger door open for her. She was about to enter when she glanced in the car and stepped back. “Would you mind putting those into the back seat or, even better, the trunk?”

“What are you—” I looked in the car. There, on the floor in front of the passenger seat, were my running shoes, and stuffed in the shoes were a pair of formerly white socks. It had been at least a week or, more likely, two weeks since I’d gone running with Morton. I had been thinking I needed to get back in shape, but after running a couple of times, I decided there had to be an easier way.

“Oh, sorry about that. I was doing five miles earlier today and thought I’d moved them,” I said, grabbing the shoes. I stepped back so Heidi could get into the car. Once she was settled in the seat, I closed the door and walked back to the trunk. As I placed the shoes in the trunk, I noticed the remnants of Morton’s deposit that I had stepped in. I closed the trunk and hurried into the driver’s seat. Fortunately, there wasn’t a hint of Morton’s deposit in the air.

“All right, we’re off to a lovely dinner,” I said and started the car.

Ten

The only parking at The River Grill was valet parking, which would cost me twenty bucks plus a tip. It’s not like there was another option, so I pulled up to the front door, where a valet dressed in gray trousers with a red stripe down the side and a red jacket with double brass buttons held the car door open for Heidi.

He smiled and stared as she slid out of the passenger seat.

“Thank you,” Heidi said as he closed the door behind her.

“My pleasure, ma’am,” he said and smiled. He walked around the back of the car, nodded at me, and handed me what looked like a business card with the number 37 on both sides of the card. “Enjoy your evening, sir,” he said.

I watched his reflection in the glass as we headed for the double-door entrance. He watched us until we stepped inside, or should I just admit he was staring at Heidi as she strutted next to me.

When we stepped into the lobby, a nice-looking woman standing behind the counter with a computer in front of her smiled at us. Soft classical music was playing in the background. She greeted us, saying, “Good evening. Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes, we do,” I said and looked at Heidi.

“It’s in your name,” she said.

“My daughter says it’s in my name, Dev Haskell.”

She didn’t react to my joke. She glanced at the computer screen and smiled. “Yes, we have it right here. If you would follow me, please.” She led us into the dining room. There were three or four empty tables scattered around the formal dining room, and she headed toward a table for two in a quiet corner. All the tables were covered with white linen tablecloths. A number of heads turned as we made our way to the corner. I doubt anyone was looking at me.

As we approached the table, a waiter in black trousers, a white shirt, and a black vest suddenly headed our way. He pulled out the chair facing the large room and said, “Ma’am.”

Heidi settled into the chair, and then he pulled out the chair facing her and nodded at me. I sat down with my back to the rest of the room. Not that it was a problem, I was looking forward to the view.

He returned a moment later with menus and a separate leather-bound wine and beverage list. I handed the list to Heidi and said, “You’re in charge of the wine tonight.”

She ordered a bottle of something I couldn’t pronounce, and the waiter returned with the bottle and poured a small taste into Heidi’s crystal wine glass. She swallowed the sample, smiled, and said, “Oh, lovely.”

The waiter filled both our glasses and set the bottle in a silver bottle holder.

We studied the two-page menu. I ended up ordering the cheapest steak on the menu, a six-ounce filet mignon that was priced at $59.00, almost three times the amount I pay for a week’s worth of groceries. Heidi ordered oysters for a starter and a porterhouse steak. She added two side orders of hash brown potatoes for us. I had wisely closed my menu and couldn’t see the prices.

The waiter was back a moment later and topped up our wine glasses. We chatted for maybe ten minutes before Heidi’s oysters arrived. There were six on the plate, and I ate two. Heidi ate the other four, and the waiter returned and topped up her wine glass. I waved him off, thinking it might make for a better evening if I wasn’t arrested for driving-under-the-influence on the way home.

Our steaks and hash brown potatoes arrived, and I have to say mine looked lovely and tasted even better, absolutely delicious. But then again, my steak cost almost sixty dollars. Heidi’s porterhouse steak turned out to be thirty-four ounces, which he casually mentioned as he carved it for her and placed maybe a third of the steak on her plate.

She grinned and finished most of the small cut, leaving two-thirds of the steak on the serving platter. We finished up with a glass of dessert wine that Heidi chose. Once again, it was probably a good idea that I didn’t see the price. After two hours, we were finished. Heidi was a happy camper, and I figured it would be worth a hundred bucks to get us back on a positive track.

I asked the waiter for the bill, and when he left, Heidi smiled and said, “Oh, Dev, this has been one of our best nights ever. Thank you so much. I think we both needed this. I’m hoping you might have time to join me for a glass of wine at my house and, you know, stay as long as you want.”

“Thank you, Heidi. I would like that.”

The waiter was back with a small black leather folder that held the bill and a plastic carry-out container with the remains of Heidi’s steak. He handed them to me and asked, “Is there anything else I can get for either of you before you leave?”

Heidi smiled and shook her head.

“We’re good. Thank you for the lovely evening,” I said as I opened the leather folder and stared at our dinner bill. Heidi’s porterhouse steak was $150.00. The bottle of wine she ordered was $110.00. The side orders of hash brown potatoes were $18 each. The after-dinner dessert wine was $20.00 a glass. All that plus a fifteen-percent tip added up to well over four hundred bucks, and that was before I paid for the valet parking.

“Are you all right, Dev?”

“Wh…wh…what?”

“I said are you all right? You suddenly don’t look too happy.”

“Oh, no, sorry. I was thinking of something. Let me pay this, and we can head back to your place.” I pulled a credit card from my wallet and placed it in the small pocket at the top of the black leather folder, crossing my fingers and hoping it wouldn’t be declined.

“Well, thank you again for dinner. I really enjoyed it. We’ll have to come back here again. It was wonderful,” Heidi said as she grinned and shrugged.

I forced a smile and checked my dessert wine glass. Unfortunately, it was empty.

The waiter arrived, picked up the bill with my credit card, and said, “I’ll be right back. He returned five minutes later. I could feel my heart pounding, thinking the card had been denied, but he smiled, thanked us again, and set the leather folder next to me. I opened it, put the card back in my wallet, folded the receipt, and reminded myself to list it as a business expense on my taxes.

I pulled Heidi’s chair back as she stood and thought, What the hell else could go wrong tonight, which was when I spotted Michael Mariani, one of the region’s major criminals and apparently untouchable. He was seated at a table of four in the far corner of the restaurant. Two muscle-bound thugs sat on either side of him. They appeared to be continually scanning the customers and, no doubt, were heavily armed. Seated across the table from Mariani, and fortunately with his back to me, was none other than bald Boris ‘The Gerbil’ Bacon—my new friend from The Spot.

I let Heidi step in front of me and followed just a half-step behind and off to the side. Hopefully, hiding from the table. The two thugs were focused on us or, more likely, Heidi and her rhinestone necklace. Mariani appeared to be listening to whatever Boris Bacon was saying. I was actually happy to make it outside and hand my credit card to one of the valets along with the number 37 card. They charged the card twenty bucks, I added a tip, and amazingly, everything worked.

Given the restaurant clientele, I had no doubt my 2012 Dodge Charger was the worst car in the lot. The valet drove up a minute later, held the door for Heidi, and once I was behind the wheel, we sped out of the lot.

“Dev, slow down, no rush. We’re going back to my place so I can thank you properly for such a wonderful night.”

I exhaled, took my foot off the accelerator, and slowed down to just ten miles per hour over the speed limit. We pulled in front of Heidi’s house, and I turned off the car. I’d been checking my rearview mirror, but no one had followed us, and neither Boris Bacon, Michael Mariani, nor the two thugs with them at the table had left the restaurant. I opened the passenger door for Heidi. As she stepped out, she wrapped her arms around me and said, “Thank you for the best dinner ever.” She gave me a probing kiss, took my hand, and led me up to the front door.

We had another glass of wine and then moved to the bedroom. I woke just a little after 4:00. Heidi was still breathing deeply and wearing her rhinestone necklace. I wasn’t as upset about the dinner bill as I’d been in the restaurant, but I made a mental note to try to avoid The River Grill for the next few years. Despite the cost of dinner, it ended up being a very enjoyable evening and early morning, thanks to Heidi.

She made me breakfast, a piece of toast with blueberry jam, and then went back to bed. I drove home. As I opened the back door, Morton stepped out onto the back porch, waited until I gave him a head scratch, and then headed into the backyard. Princess was still asleep in her carrier. I got a pot of coffee going and filled the food and water dishes. Ten minutes later, I let Morton back in the house and headed upstairs to the shower.

Heidi’s toast didn’t fill me up so I scrambled some eggs for breakfast and gave Princess a head scratch. Morton and I headed down to the office. No sign of Louie when we arrived, so I made a fresh pot of coffee, settled in at my desk, and began my workday watching the two women through my binoculars. I returned the binoculars to my desk drawer when Louie pulled behind my car. I filled his coffee mug and set it on his picnic table. Once he’d taken a half-dozen sips and recovered from climbing the staircase, he asked, “How did your dinner go last night?”

“Well, the evening ended on a nice note back at Heidi’s place, and the dinner was delicious. Unfortunately, we ate at The River Grill. It’s downtown along the river. Have you ever eaten there before?”

Louie shook his head. “No. I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been in there.”

“Let me save you the trouble. We had two steaks, a bottle of wine, and a glass of dessert wine. The bill came to four hundred bucks, and I had ordered the smallest steak on the menu.”

“Get out of here. Four hundred bucks?”

“Yeah, believe me, I wish I was kidding. Oh, and then to top it off, on the way out of the place, who do I see at a table but Michael Mariani with two muscle-bound thugs, and he was talking to Boris Bacon.”

“Bacon? The guy who saw you in The Spot the other night?”

“Yeah, none other. Incredible. I don’t get it. In fact, I need to make a phone call and let Yucky know. I’m going to run over to The Spot and call from there. I don’t want his boss tracing phone calls coming from my number.”

“His boss? What? Is he in some kind of trouble in the DEA?”

“I don’t think so. But the guy in charge of the department here is a real jerk. I wouldn’t put it past him to be checking people’s phones. Anyway, just playing it safe. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Eleven

Istepped out of the office and went over to The Spot. It was 9:20, and the usual three guys were seated at the bar, apparently having a liquid breakfast.

Jimmy was talking to the guy seated at the far end of the bar. He glanced over as I stepped in and pointed to the phone. “Help yourself,” he said and returned to his conversation. The other two guys were focused on their half empty beer mugs and didn’t bother to look at me.

I pulled out my cell, brought up Yucky’s phone number, and punched the numbers on the bar phone. I was about to hang up before the recording asked me to leave a message when Yucky answered.

Apparently, I woke him up. “Hel—” He cleared his throat twice and this time completed the word, “Hello.”

“Hi, Yucky. Sorry, this is Dev. Did I wake you?”

“No worry. Bieber has me working nights. All of a sudden, I pulled a double shift yesterday. Didn’t get home until sometime after 4:00.”

“What’s he got you working on?”

“Based on last night, nothing. Just waiting and watching, and nothing happening. What’s up with you?”

“I was out last night and saw something I thought you’d want to know. You familiar with The River Grill?”

“I know about the place, but it’s more than a little out of my price range.”

I laughed at that. “Yeah, you’re preaching to the choir on that point. At least I was having dinner with a gorgeous woman who made it worth my while.”

“Oh, great, something else out of my range. So are you calling me to brag about your good luck?”

“No, but I thought you’d want to know that on the way out of the place. This would have been right around 9:00. I happened to look across the dining room, and I spotted Michael Mariani with two thugs at a table and—”

“No surprise, money doesn’t seem to be a problem for that guy.”

“Yeah, well, seated across the table from him was none other than Boris ‘The Gerbil’ Bacon.”

“Bacon,” Yucky half-shouted. “He was having dinner with Mariani?”

“Yeah, and they seemed to be having a nice conversation. Fortunately, Bacon’s back was to me, so he never saw me, and Mariani was focused on Bacon.”

“Oh man, that’s interesting, really interesting. And this was at The River Grill last night around 9:00?”

“Yeah, I don’t know this, but they had a bottle of wine on the table and their steaks in front of them, so they had probably been there for at least a half hour. No idea how long they stayed.”

“I’m taking notes right now. Did you see what car, or cars, they were driving?”

“No. We left, and to tell you the truth, I sort of sped out of the place once we got in my car. I wanted to leave just in case they had seen me and were going to follow. I checked a bunch of times on the way back to my friend’s house, but no one was following.”

“You doing anything later today?” Yucky asked.

“Nothing scheduled. Why? Something I could help you with?”

“I was thinking I could show you some pictures of Mariani and some of his staff, see if they might have been the guys with him.”

“Yeah, sure. Be happy to help.”

“And you’re sure it was Bacon with him?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely ‘The Gerbil.’ No question.”

“This is good, Dev. I’m going to try to grab some more sleep, and I’ll give you a call once I’m up.”

“Okay, sorry to wake you, Yucky.”

“Oh, no, don’t be. This was worth it. I’ll catch you later,” he said and disconnected.

I hung up the phone, gave Jimmy a wave, and headed back out the door. I was waiting for the large SUV to pass so I could cross the street when it pulled to the curb, and the passenger window was lowered. “Thanks for waiting for us, Haskell. Get your dumb ass in the car,” Fat Freddy Zimmerman said.

“Can I just go up to my office and—”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me. I said, get your dumb ass in the car, now.”

I thought for half a second about arguing or running across the street and into the building. But then what? I’d only be giving Fat Freddy a reason to have Pee Wee beat me to a pulp.

I opened the rear door and slid into the back seat. Pee Wee sped up the street before I could close the door. Freddy turned around in the front seat, looked at me, and shook his head. “Get your act together. You’ll be talking to His Highness, and he expects an update on ‘The Gerbil.’”

I tried to look worried, and it must have worked because Freddy grinned, then turned around and faced the front. No doubt satisfied that I didn’t have any information for Tubby. It turned out to be one of the more pleasant rides I’d had going to Tubby’s mansion. I actually had some information I could pass on to him, and it wouldn’t cause harm to anyone. Well, except maybe Boris Bacon or Michael Mariani, and I didn’t care about either one of them.

Pee Wee pulled into the circular drive in front of Tubby Gustafson’s mansion. As one of the armed thugs stepped off the large stoop, I opened the passenger door and quickly assumed the position leaning against the side of the Escalade, waiting to be patted down.

“You just stay put there, scumbag, while I attend to Mr. Big’s needs.”

I had to chuckle at the term ‘Mr. Big’ but eliminated my grin before Fat Freddy slid out of the passenger seat. The car rocked even more than usual as he slipped out, and I had to adjust my feet twice.

Freddy gave me a look as he slid out of the Escalade and made his way to the front door. The thug patted me down, but only once. Then, instead of calling me a name or swearing at me, he said, “Okay, you’re good to go.”

I said, “Thanks,” and caught up to Freddy on the front stoop. We stepped into the entryway, where I was patted down again, and then hurried to catch up to Freddy waddling down the hall.

This time when Freddy knocked on Tubby’s office door, he waited until Tubby shouted, “Enter,” from inside the office. We stepped into the room, and fortunately, Tubby was seated at his desk, dressed in a white shirt with a gray suit coat draped over the back of his desk chair. The two women in black thongs were nowhere to be seen.

Tubby looked up from what appeared to be financial statements of some sort. “I need news on ‘The Gerbil,’ Haskell. What have you found out?”

“A couple of things, sir. First of all, his real name is Boris Bacon. The list you gave me of the former addresses was correct. They were all former addresses. The latest information I have, and this would be just twenty-four hours old, is that ‘The Gerbil’ had moved into a unit in the Wilder building. It’s located over on—”

“I’m aware of where the building is, Haskell.”

“He’s moved into unit thirteen-thirteen, sir. Although, I have been unable to confirm that at this point. Secondly, and maybe more importantly, he met Michael Mariani last night at The River Grill. They had dinner together along with two other individuals who were apparently providing protection.”

Tubby stared at me for a moment and then said, “And you know of this dinner how, exactly?”

“I saw them there, sir. They were seated at a table in the far corner, the four of them, Mariani, ‘The Gerbil,’ and the two security individuals, both large men, by the way.”

“You were at The River Grill?”

“Yes, sir. I had dinner there with a friend.”

“Really? Interesting. Who knew you could enjoy the finer things in life.”

“Actually, sir, based on the prices, although the meal was wonderful, I’m not sure I would go back there again.”

“Have you seen this Bacon individual anywhere else?” Tubby asked.

“Yes, sir, I have seen him elsewhere. Two nights ago, I was enjoying the peace and quiet at The Spot bar when he entered, looked around, and then stepped over and introduced himself to me. I had the distinct impression that my being there was the reason for his appearance. He said a couple of things to me suggesting he knew everything, or almost everything, about me.”

Tubby gave a quick glance at Freddy, suggesting maybe they were both in on providing Bacon with the information.

“Well, we didn’t have anything to do with that,” Fat Freddy said, confirming my suspicions.

“I would like, no, let me rephrase that. I will expect you to gain as much information as you can on Mr. Bacon,” Tubby said.

“I’ll do my best, sir,” I lied.

“Very well, then. Don’t let me keep you,” Tubby said and finished with a wave of his hand toward the door. I turned and took a couple of steps toward the door, which caused Freddy to hurry so he could get there before me.

We stepped out into the hall and walked back toward the entry. This was where Freddy usually read me the riot act and told me I’d better do whatever Tubby wanted done. But today, he was quiet. He didn’t harass me. Didn’t tell me how stupid I was or anything else along those lines. Instead, he said, “We’ll give you a ride back to your office. Contact His Highness on any updates you find regarding Bacon and/or Mariani.”

Pee Wee was waiting for us in the Escalade just out front. The thug who had patted me down opened the passenger door for Fat Freddy, and I let myself into the back seat. No one spoke on the ride back to my office. Pee Wee pulled to the curb at the bus stop in front of the building, and I climbed out of the Escalade. Fat Freddy lowered the window, but instead of swearing at me or calling me a name, he said, “Good luck.”

Pee Wee drove around the corner, and I stood and watched until they disappeared. I made my way up the stairs and into the office.

Louie looked up at me and asked, “Everything okay? That was a long phone call.”

“Yeah, no problem.” I settled in at my desk and went online searching for any recent news on Boris Bacon.

Twelve

Louie had just headed over to The Spot. Morton and I were out on our usual walk that ended at The Spot. When my phone rang, Morton was up close and personal with the first of the two fire hydrants. My cell phone listed a local number, but there wasn’t a name attached to it, meaning it wasn’t one of my contacts. I answered anyway and knew I’d made the right decision when Yucky said, “Hi, Dev. Sorry it took so long to get back to you.”

“Not a problem. Are you working tonight?”

“Oh, God, I’m just out of a meeting, and I’ll be working the graveyard shift for probably the next ten years. I haven’t told Alice yet. She’s going to go crazy. God, it just doesn’t seem to end. I can’t figure out what I did to piss off Bieber, my pain-in-the-ass boss. But if there’s a shit detail, I’m bound to get assigned to it. Anyway, look, I’ve got some images of Michael Mariani and his crew. Would you maybe have some time to ID them tonight?”

“Yeah, sure, Yuck. I’d be happy to. You want me to come over to your office?”

He laughed for a second and said, “No way. I’m trying to stay out of Bieber’s sight as much as possible. I haven’t told him about you seeing Bacon and Mariani last night. I’m hoping if you can ID these images, that will get him to back off and stop handing me all the shitty jobs, or at least some of them.”

“I feel for you, Yuck. It sounds like my average day. Tell me where and when you’d like to meet, and I’ll be there.”

“Do you know Carbones Pizza? It’s up on Randolph Avenue?”

“Oh yeah, sure. It’s just a couple of miles from my office. Happy to meet you there. What time will work for you?”

“Would 8:00 be too late?”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll see you there. If I’m there first, I’ll order a pizza. Anything you don’t want on it?”

“I’m good with everything except anchovies.”

“We’re reading from the same book, Yuck. See you around 8:00.”

We finished our walk and headed into The Spot. It was pretty crowded. Louie was seated on his stool at the far end of the bar. As we stepped inside, Morton began straining on the leash in anticipation of a bag of pork rinds. When we came around the corner, Louie grinned and poured half the bag of pork rinds into his hand. Morton immediately sat at attention in front of Louie. I signaled Mike for another drink for Louie and a beer for me. Louie leaned down on his stool, and Morton inhaled the pork rinds in about two seconds. Not one of them fell to the floor.

“Oh, good boy, Morton. I was worried I might have to eat them. Everything okay on your end, Dev?”

“Yeah, not a bother. I’m going to be meeting up with Yucky later tonight. He’s got some images of people he hopes I can identify. The poor guy seems to be working his ass off, and he’s got this jerk of a boss who just put him on the graveyard shift. He’s going to be telling his wife before we meet up. From what I hear, she’s not very happy, and I doubt this latest shift assignment will do anything to improve that.”

“From what you’ve told me, this Yucky guy just can’t seem to catch a break.”

“Sure seems that way. How are things going for you?”

“More of the same, and that’s not a complaint,” Louie said. “God help me if they ever stop arresting people for driving-under-the-influence.”

“A bullet I’ve been able to dodge a number of times,” I said. We chatted for a good half hour. Morton ate the second half of the pork rinds, and then we headed out the door. I glanced around several times on my way to the car but didn’t pick up on anything out of the ordinary. I pulled into my driveway, and we entered the house through the back door. Princess greeted us with a ‘meow,’ and I gave her a head scratch and a couple of Savory Treats. I tossed a biscuit to Morton, headed upstairs, and pulled on a different shirt. Ten minutes later, I was on my way to Carbones Pizza. I was the first one there, so I ordered a large pizza with double cheese and everything except anchovies. After joking with Louie about his driving-under-the-influence clients, I decided ordering a root beer might be a good idea. Yucky walked in the door just as the server set the pizza on the table.

“Oh, I was hoping you’d be late and I could eat the whole thing,” I said.

“You eat all of that, and we’d have to call the paramedics to resuscitate you.”

“Well, it would be nice to try. Did you mention the graveyard shift to your wife?”

“Yeah, I did, and amazingly, she didn’t seem the least bit upset. In fact, she told me to do my best and stay safe, which is very unusual for her. In fact, I don’t think she’s ever told me anything like that.”

“Well, that’s good. Come on, celebrate by helping me eat this pizza.”

We talked about everything except work. We traded some more stories about Yucky’s mom, Sunny. She sounded a lot like my mother, either laughing or ready to scream about the stupid things I did as a kid. Once the server cleared away the pizza and returned with the last three slices in a plastic carry-out container Yucky laid out a half-dozen black-and-white mug shots on the table. I immediately recognized Michael Mariani and Boris Bacon. Both men held a small black sign with white letters that listed the St. Paul Police Department, the date, and Mariani’s and Bacon’s names.

Bacon’s image looked fairly recent, and based on the date, it had been taken eighteen months ago. Mariani’s image was dated ten years ago, and although he’d put on another ten or fifteen pounds, it was still him, without a doubt.

As for the two muscle-bound guys, one of the mug shots matched one of the thugs I’d seen the other night at The River Grill. “That guy’s name is Anthony Scarpinati,” Yucky said.

None of the mug shots matched the other thug seated with them. It didn’t mean he hadn’t been arrested, it just meant Yucky didn’t have his mug shot. I wrote Scarpinati’s name in my notebook, and we gossiped for another half hour about people we knew, and then Yucky had to head out to work. He was spending the night parked near the entrance to Michael Mariani’s mansion and writing down license plate numbers of anyone who drove in and out of the grounds.

I debated heading back to The Spot but decided that going home would be the better idea. I checked the rearview mirror a few times but didn’t spot anyone following me. I pulled into my driveway and parked in the garage again to play it safe. Morton was stretched out on his pillow when I stepped into the kitchen. He raised his head and eventually wandered over to the back door so I could let him out. Princess was settled into the carrier case and appeared to be asleep. I got the coffee ready for the morning, let Morton back inside, and then double-checked the windows and doors before I went upstairs. Everything appeared to be in order, and I was asleep before 11:00.

I was up the next morning before my alarm went off. I showered and shaved and was down in the kitchen, having my second cup of coffee and licking blueberry jelly from the table knife, when Morton made his appearance. I let him out into the backyard and filled the food and water dishes.

When Morton came back in, Princess was out of the carrier case and stretching on the kitchen table. She was working her way through breakfast when we left for the office.

Surprisingly, Louie had turned off the coffee pot the night before. I made a fresh pot and was sipping coffee and watching the women apply their makeup in the apartment across the street when Louie pulled in behind my car.

I had filled his coffee mug and just turned on my computer, pretending to look busy, when Louie entered the office. He gave me his usual wave and settled in at his picnic table. I was in the process of reading a two-sentence email from Yucky.

Bacon in a black Mercedes pulled into Mariani’s at 12:30. He left at 1:10.

I was pretty sure that Bacon hadn’t stopped by for a cocktail. Most likely, he was either delivering something or picking up something to be delivered. It might have been whatever they discussed the other night at The River Grill. I made a mental note to tell Tubby about it if he sent Fat Freddy to drag me over to his mansion. I debated going over to The Spot and calling Yucky, but at this hour, he was probably trying to get a couple hours of sleep. Besides, given the tight control Gaylon Bieber was placing on Yucky, the last thing he needed was multiple phone calls from the phone in The Spot. It might be a better idea to get a burner phone, and that way, when Bieber asked him who called, he could claim it was an informant, which I guess wouldn’t be too far from the truth.

“How’d your meeting go with Yucky last night?” Louie asked.

“Oh, fine. He had some mug shots of Mariani, Bacon, and a guy named Scarpinati. I confirmed all three individuals, and then we just chatted and told stories.”

“You said he was working the graveyard shift?”

“Yeah, he’s hoping if he gets something on Mariani and Bacon, it might be enough to have Bieber pull him off the graveyard shift and back to working daytime hours. I don’t know what he did, but there has to be something out there that put him on Bieber’s bad list.”

Louie shrugged and said, “Don’t forget he’s also basically a new employee. You never know, maybe Bieber’s been instructed to make this tough going, to give him a taste of what it can be like.”
“Could be, but I’m thinking that may be a little far-fetched. Yucky’s been in the DEA for more than three years. Anyway, he seems to be trying his best, and his unhappy wife is the icing on the cake for the whole deal.”

“It’s always tough, and don’t forget it has to be tough on her, too.”

Thirteen

It was a do-nothing rest of the day. I’d been online for most of the time trying to find anything on Boris Bacon. Other than his arrest record, there wasn’t much out there. Morton and I spent the last couple of hours in the Wilder building parking lot but never saw Bacon or his black Mercedes. We drove back to the office a little after 5:00. Louie wasn’t in, which meant there was about a hundred-percent chance he was already relaxing in The Spot. I turned off the coffee pot, locked the door on the way out, and we headed in the side door of The Spot. Louie was right there, sitting on his stool.

“Good evening, Mr. Laufen,” I said, which caused Louie to half-jump.

“Oh my God, Dev. Careful, you almost made me spill,” Louie said and drank the last two swallows in his glass. He gave Mike a wave, signaling a refill for himself and a beer for me. “Relax, Morton. I haven’t forgotten,” he said as he dumped half a bag of pork rinds into his hand and bent over to treat Morton.

Ever the professional, Morton devoured the pork rinds in just a second or two, then licked any crumbs off Louie’s hand.

“If you’re back, I’m guessing you came up empty-handed at the Wilder building.”

“Yeah, it was a long shot at best, I never saw anything. I went through the garage area but never spotted Bacon’s car.”

“Do you think he moved in?”

“I’m pretty sure, but I think I’ll call Julie Rollins tomorrow to see if she’s heard anything from her friend who lives there. Bacon was supposed to move into the unit across the hall from the woman.”

Mike arrived with a fresh drink for Louie and a beer for me. “How’s it going, Dev?” he asked as he set both glasses on the bar.

“Boring, which isn’t a complaint. Say, you remember that guy who ordered a beer for me and left without paying the other night?”

“Yeah, shaved head, glasses. If I recall, you weren’t too happy to see him.”

“That’s an understatement. Has he been in here since?”

“Not that I’m aware. Why? Is there a problem?”

“Only that he’s a bad apple. If he’s in here, there’s bound to be a purse missing, an unpaid tab, or a missing bottle of your most expensive whiskey.”

“Thanks for the heads-up. You got a name on the guy?”

“Yeah, his last name is Bacon, Boris Bacon. I’m investigating him on a matter. I know Tubby Gustafson is interested in him as well, and that never ends up on a good note.”

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“Hopefully, he won’t be back,” I called as Mike headed down the bar toward a couple that had just stepped in.

“Probably a good idea to warn him,” Louie said, taking a healthy sip of his drink.

“Yeah, I doubt he’ll be back. He probably just showed up to hassle me that evening. Still, it doesn’t hurt to be on the lookout.”

We chatted for a bit. I bought a round, and when I finished that beer, Morton and I headed home. I parked in the garage again, and we entered through the back door. At no surprise, Princess was stretched out on the kitchen counter. She gave a friendly ‘meow’ as we stepped inside.

I gave her a head scratch and a couple of Savory Treats and then tossed Morton a biscuit. I went through the refrigerator, wishing I’d taken those remaining slices of pizza last night instead of giving them to Yucky. A bowl of chili in the back of the refrigerator looked okay, so I warmed it in the microwave and settled down in front of the TV. Morton and Princess joined me a couple of minutes later. We watched the tail end of a movie I’d seen before and then watched the news. I dozed off during the weather forecast, woke up around 11:00, and went to bed.

My alarm woke me the following morning. I showered and shaved and was down in the kitchen sipping coffee and checking the current news on my laptop when Morton made his entrance. I let him out into the backyard and filled the food and water dishes for both Morton and Princess. Morton was back in the kitchen fifteen minutes later, chomping down his breakfast, and Princess was finally up and stretching on the kitchen table. We headed down to the office a half hour later.

Louie had a court appearance first thing, so I was able to study the two women in the apartment across the street as they did their makeup and chatted about everything and anything. I answered a couple emails, paid some bills online, and waited until 10:00 before I called Julie Rollins.

She answered my call, saying, “Oh, Dev, what perfect timing. I was going to call you this morning.”

“Just checking in, Julie. Is everything going okay?”

“Yes, everything is fine. I haven’t seen that black car since the last time we talked. But I’m having Lily Varro over for lunch today. She’s my friend who lives in the Wilder building across the hall from where that worthless Boris Bacon is camped.”

“Is everything all right with her?”

“I think so, but I’ll find out for sure over lunch. Would you like to join us? I thought if she had any questions about dreadful Boris Bacon, you could probably answer them better than I could.”

“I’d love to join you. Can I bring something?”

“Oh, thanks, but no. I just have to go out and get something for dessert.”

“I can do that. I’ll get something sweet, just like me.”

“Oh, God. You’re sure it’s not a problem?”

“No, happy to help. What time would you like me there?”

“Lily’s coming over around half-past eleven, so you’re welcome any time after that. Oh, this will be wonderful, Dev. I know she’ll like you.”

“Well, we’ll see about that,” I said, which caused her to laugh.

I debated what to get for dessert and settled on a half-dozen chocolate brownies from a bakery up the street. When I got back in my car, I took the brownies out of the bag and placed them in a plastic box with a blue lid so I could say they were homemade. I pulled in front of Julie’s place at 11:40 and parked behind a red Honda Civic.

I glanced up and down the street. Everything looked okay, and I headed to the front door. A Post-it note taped to the door frame above the doorbell read, Out of Order. I knocked on the door, and Julie answered a moment later.

“Oh, Dev, perfect timing. Lily just arrived.”

“Sorry I’m late. I was waiting for these brownies to finish baking.” I handed her the plastic container.

“You baked these? Really?”

“Yeah. I told you I’d bring dessert.”

“Yes, you did. But I thought you’d pick up a couple of candy bars or get ice cream sandwiches or something. Oh, these look lovely. Thank you so much. Come on in. We’re in the kitchen,” she said as she stepped aside, and I entered her living room. She led me into a tiny kitchen that hadn’t been updated in decades. A dark-haired woman with a ponytail was seated in one of the four chairs around the small, Formica-topped kitchen table. Two glasses filled with white wine were on the table.

“Dev, this is my friend, Lily Varro. Lily, this is Dev Haskell, the man I was telling you about.”

“Nice to meet you, Lily. Don’t believe whatever Julie said. I’m a very nice guy.”

“That’s what she told me. It’s nice to meet you, Dev,” she said and took hold of my hand.

“Look at this, he made brownies for dessert,” Julie said as she set the plastic container on the table.

“Mmm-mmm, yummy,” Lily replied. She was still holding onto my hand, and she rubbed her thumb against the back of my hand as she raised her eyebrows. I wasn’t sure if she was suggesting something, but either way, it was enjoyable.

Julie was filling a bowl with potato chips. She took a container of chip dip out of the refrigerator and set it on the table along with the bowl of chips. “What can I get you to drink, Dev?”

“Would you happen to have a beer?” I asked, not wanting to be a party pooper.

“Coming right up,” Julie said. She took a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon from the refrigerator and set it in front of me.

I popped the top on the beer can as Julie sat down. They raised their wine glasses in a toast, and I clinked them with my can.

“Julie told me you’re a detective, and you’re investigating this awful person who moved in across the hall from me,” Lily said and took another swallow of wine.

“Well, I’m a private investigator, and I’m looking into Boris Bacon for a client of mine. I’ve really only started. Julie’s probably told you he’s got a record, but other than that, there hasn’t been much to go on. He seems to have moved around quite a bit in the last few years. I have to say that the Wilder building is probably the nicest place he’s been in, other than living here with Julie.”

“And I couldn’t wait to get rid of him. I don’t know what I was thinking. He is just a horrible, terrible person.”

“Well, so far, he’s been pretty quiet. He drives a fancy black car,” Lily replied.

“I got a report the other night that it’s a Mercedes. He did fifty months in prison some years back, and that got him keeping a somewhat lower profile. I did see him the other night at The River Grill steak house. He was meeting with three other guys, and one of them is a known mobster.”

“No surprise,” Julie said as she stood from her chair. She refilled their wine glasses and set three plates and silverware on the table. Next, she placed a platter of rye bread, a bowl of barbecue beef, a bowl of potato salad, and a plate with slices of Swiss cheese. “Do you need another beer, Dev?”

“No, I’m good for now. Thank you, Julie, this looks wonderful.”

“Well, dig in.”

We chatted over lunch. Julie told some Boris Bacon stories. Lily mentioned that she’d only seen Bacon twice and then from a distance. She was unaware of anyone knocking on his door or visiting. She did rub her foot on my shin a few times. The first time, I thought it was a mistake, but the times after that, she flashed a smile, winked, or raised her eyebrows. Not that I was complaining.

Julie cleared the table and insisted that I not help. She placed the brownies I brought on a plate and topped up the wine glasses again. They both ate two brownies and had another glass of wine. Being responsible, I had just one brownie and told Julie I had to meet with clients later in the afternoon, so I couldn’t have another beer.

Just before 2:00, I thanked Julie for lunch. She was in the process of opening the third or maybe the fourth bottle of wine. Neither one of them seemed to be feeling any pain. I handed Lily my business card and said it was nice to meet her. She smiled, blew me a kiss, and ran her tongue over her lips. Fortunately, Julie didn’t see that. I thanked them both again and hurried out to my car.

Fourteen

Idrove back to the office. Louie wasn’t around, so I took Morton for a walk. I’d been settled in front of my computer for a few hours when my phone rang. The number came across with no name attached. I debated letting the call go into messages but decided to answer just in case it was Yucky. “Haskell Investigations,” was how I answered.

“Let me talk to that sexy stud muffin, Dev Haskell,” a very intoxicated-sounding woman said and then hiccupped.

“Lily?” I asked.

“Yeah, baby. Hey, do you have anything planned for tonight? I could use some company, and I’m thinking we should get to know each other a lot better.”

“Oh, well, thanks, Lily. It’s great to hear from you. When would you like to get together?”

“How about tonight, baby? Sooner, the better. I’m just lying in bed, wondering what I’m going to do with myself. Why don’t you come over and join me, lover? I guarantee we’ll both have a good time.”

“How about this, Lily? Since you’re in bed, why don’t you close your eyes and rest up? Then you can call me back when you’re all rested up.”

“I think I can do that, honey,” she said, slurring her words.

God, based on the way she sounded, she was lucky she didn’t get pulled over for drunk driving on her way home. “Maybe call me when you wake up. Okay? Hello? Hello? Lily, are you still there?” I heard what could only be described as a drunken moan, and suddenly, the call ended. There was a part of me that wanted to rush over. After all, she was attractive, seemed interested, and probably wouldn’t remember. But I knew what would happen. I’d get to the Wilder building and never get past the security entrance because she’d be passed out in her unit and wouldn’t answer my call. I added her number and name to my contact list. I set my phone next to the keyboard and returned to my computer.

Louie returned to the office just after 5:00. He stayed long enough to toss a file on his picnic table, then glanced over at me and said, “It’s about time to present myself to the folks across the street. Would you care to join me?”

“Do you mean The Spot?” I asked.

“No, Dev, I meant the apartment unit with the two women you stare at through your binoculars every morning.”

“They called earlier and told me they’re going to be busy tonight,” I replied.

Louie got a strange look on his face. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Yes, I’m kidding. Let me take Morton on a walk, and we’ll join you in twenty minutes.”

“See you over there,” Louie said as he headed out the door.

Morton must have understood our conversation because he was suddenly on his feet and wagging his tail, slapping it against the metal filing cabinet.

“Ok, Morton, calm down. We’re going,” I said, which only seemed to increase his level of excitement. I turned off the coffee, clipped the leash onto Morton, locked the door, and we hurried down the stairs and out into the world.

It was our usual walk. Morton investigated small mounds of grass clippings and every food wrapper we passed. He left his signature greeting on the two fire hydrants, sniffed a number of garden gates, and shared friendly barks with a dog stretched out on a front porch in the late afternoon sun.

I was occasionally checking behind me or looking down the various side streets. Fortunately, everything appeared to be fine. It was 5:30 by the time we entered The Spot. Morton charged down the length of the bar, straining on the leash.

“Nice talking to you, Morton,” one of the regulars said as Morton pulled me along the bar. The two guys with him laughed.

One of them patted me on the shoulder as I hurried past and said, “Try to keep up, Haskell. You’re slowing him down.”

Louie filled his hand with pork rinds as we came around the corner, and Morton settled in at attention alongside him. As Louie leaned forward, Morton inhaled every last bit of the pork rinds and licked his hand clean.

Mike appeared and set a fresh mug of beer on the bar. I raised the mug toward Louie, who clinked glasses with me, and we each took a sip.

“How’d your day go?” Louie asked.

I told him about my lunch with Julie Rollins and Lily Varro and finished up with the afternoon call from an over-served Lily.

“Well, based on your description, things would have only gotten worse if you’d gone to her apartment. At the very least, you wouldn’t have been let in. But you would have almost certainly run into that Bacon character. She probably would have thrown up on you or would turn out to be married, and her husband would go after you.”

“You’re summing up my thoughts. Nothing positive would have come from attempting to meet up with her, as much as I would have enjoyed it.”

We were home before 8:00. Once again, I parked in the garage, and we headed in the back door. We had a quiet evening and were all asleep before 11:00. I was up the following morning and downstairs showered and shaved when Morton appeared. I let him out into the backyard and then filled the food and water dishes. I paid some attention to Princess once she was out of her carrier and stretched. When we finished our breakfasts, Morton and I headed to the office. Louie was in shortly after our arrival. I had just finished pouring myself a fresh coffee when my cell phone rang. Unfortunately, it was Fat Freddy.

Rather than answer, I told Louie I’d be gone for an hour and headed out the door. My cell phone stopped ringing as I stepped out of the building. Pee Wee had just slid out from behind the steering wheel and was walking toward the rear of the Escalade.

“I’m almost there, Pee Wee,” I called just as he raised the rear door on the Escalade.

He glanced over at me, nodded, and pushed the door down. “Glad you’re here. I was getting the hammer to knock out your headlights.”

“You wouldn’t have done … Never mind. Are we headed back to the mansion?”

“Afraid so,” Pee Wee said as he opened the rear door behind the driver’s seat for me.

As I slid into the back seat, I said, “Good morning, Frederick. How are you doing this lovely morning?”

“Save it for someone who cares, dumb shit. His Highness wants to see you, and he needs an update on Boris Bacon. I hope you’ve got some news, for your sake.”

“I will by the time we get there. I need to call one of my staff,” I said and pulled out my phone.

“You’d better come up with some information, Haskell. And if you’re thinking of lying to His Highness, let me warn you, we’ll know immediately, and I would like nothing better than to make you pay the price.”

“Let me just make this phone call, and I’ll have my update by the time we arrive.”

“You heard Hassle, Pee Wee. Let’s go.”

Pee Wee accelerated up the street as I brought Lily Varro’s number up on my phone and called.

She answered on the third ring, “Hell…hell…Hello?” Her voice sounded gravelly, and she cleared her throat.

“Hi, Lily. Dev Haskell calling you back.”

There was a pause before she cleared her throat again and said, “Calling me back?”

“Yeah, you called me last night.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, after our meeting yesterday at Julie’s.”

“Meeting? Are you kidding me? It was more like a wine binge. God, my head is killing me, and the aspirin I had is sure taking its time to work. Did I really call you last night?”

“Yes, you did. You were mentioning some late-night activity.”

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…you know, Julie deliberately over-served me. God, another get-together with Julie that I can’t remember. I’m so sorry. Did I say anything offensive? If I did, I didn’t mean it. I really enjoyed meeting you and—”

“No, no, so not a problem. I’m just confirming our meeting tonight around 6:00.”

“Tonight? Meeting? Did I invite you for dinner?”

“Yes, well, and some additional activity.”

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…wait, you know what, this will be perfect. Come over for dinner tonight at 6:00. Can you make some more of those brownies? They were really good, I think.”

“Great, I’ll see you then.” She gave me her address, and I disconnected.

“Information?” Freddy asked as he turned around in the passenger seat.

“Just an update. I’ve got someone keeping an eye on your man, Bacon. There’s nothing special. He’s just doing his normal routine.”

“His Highness will be interested,” Fat Freddy said, which was the sum total of my conversation with him until we reached Tubby’s mansion.

Just like before, Pee Wee pulled into the circular drive and stopped in front of the mansion. One of the thugs at the front door hurried over to the Escalade and opened the door for Fat Freddy.

I climbed out of the back seat and assumed the position, leaning against the Escalade with my legs spread. The thug quickly patted me down and, for the second time, told me, “You’re okay and good to go.”

“Thank you,” I said and hurried to catch up to Fat Freddy. I was patted down again once I stepped into the entry and then caught up with Fat Freddy as he waddled across the marble-floored entry and down the hall to Tubby’s office.

Freddy knocked on the door, and just as he began to open it, Tubby growled, “Wait a damn minute.”

I immediately thought he was involved with the massage women, but once he yelled that we could enter, he was obviously the only person in the office. He was seated behind his desk and wearing his red silk robe. Neither the massage table nor the two massage women were anywhere around.

As we approached, Tubby looked up, studied me for a moment, and then said, “Well, what have you got, Haskell?”

“Not an awful lot, sir, but what I do have is interesting. Boris ‘The Gerbil’ Bacon has been meeting with Michael Mariani.”

Tubby shook his head. “Ancient history, Haskell. You told me this two days ago.”

“That’s right, sir, I did. But that was in relation to them having dinner at The River Grill the other night. Since then, Bacon arrived at Mariani’s compound the other night a half hour after midnight. He left forty minutes later.”

“What the hell was he doing there at that hour?” Tubby asked.

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t stop by for dinner, sir.”

“The Gerbil showed up a half hour after midnight?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you know this how, exactly?”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” I lied.

“What were you doing there at that hour?”

“I was there on a whim. I got a call from a contact who told me that Bacon had just left the Wilder building. I just took a wild guess, and for a change, I was right. He was entering Mariani’s compound as I pulled onto the street. I waited until he left and was going to see where he went, but a second vehicle followed him out, and I didn’t want to be spotted, so I didn’t follow.”

“Damn it. Showing up there in the middle of the night. It couldn’t have been a surprise to Mariani. He probably summoned Bacon. This is worse than I thought. Anything else?”

“No sir, that’s all I have at the moment. Well, except that I think the car that followed Bacon was driven by a guy named Anthony Scarpinati. I can’t be a hundred-percent sure because I’ve only seen him once, and that was at The River Grill the other night. But it looked like him.”

“You’re probably right. He’s been with Mariani for several years. All right, it pains me to say this, but keep up the good work. Take Haskell to wherever he wants to go, Fredrick.”

Fat Freddy looked like he was ready to make a comment but then thought better of it since Tubby seemed to be pleased with me, at least for the moment. I was going to tell Freddy I needed a ride down to Chicago, but it would be just like him to tie me up and drop me off down there eight hours later.

“If I come across anything, sir, I’ll let you know right away.”

“See that you do, Haskell. Now get out.”

I followed Fat Freddy to the door and was about to call out ‘Thanks’ to Tubby, but as I turned back, one of the massage women was crawling out from beneath his desk and settling in on his lap. Rather than interrupt, I followed Freddy out to the Escalade without saying a word. Pee Wee drove us back to my office.

Fifteen

Louie looked up as I stepped into the office. “So?”

“I had some information for Tubby concerning Boris ‘The Gerbil,’ and I think both Tubby and Fat Freddy were surprised.”

“Was it really information, or did you just make something up?”

“Oh, no, it was an honest update. I got a text from Yucky telling me that Bacon dropped in to see Mariani the other night at 12:30 and left forty minutes later. I passed that on to Tubby. I told him that I was keeping an eye on Mariani’s place. He was pleased to get the information and is no doubt wondering what in the world Bacon was doing there at that hour.”

“What do you think he was up to?”

“No idea, other than it couldn’t have been good for Tubby. I would suspect something like turning over cash, acquiring some product to distribute, or maybe both. In fact, I should contact Aaron LaZelle and let him know, just to keep him up to date.”

As I settled in at my desk, Morton came over and sniffed around the drawer that held the bag of dog biscuits. I opened the drawer and pulled out a biscuit. Morton immediately sat at attention, just like he did for Louie. “Very impressive, Morton,” I said, holding out the biscuit. He snatched it and hurried back to his pillow.

I phoned Aaron LaZelle. Amazingly, he answered. “What’s up, Dev?”

“Hi, Aaron, just calling with some information I received.” I told him about Bacon appearing at Mariani’s after midnight and leaving forty minutes later. I didn’t mention that I’d told Tubby Gustafson the same thing a half hour earlier.

“Did you see this?”

“No, I got the information from a source, but I have no reason to doubt it. It suggests that, at the very least, Bacon is establishing a business relationship with Mariani. Depending on what transpired over those forty minutes, he may be moving up in the organization.”

“Okay. I’ll pass this on to the powers that be.”

“Does that mean Gaylon Bieber?” I asked.

“No, absolutely not. He either has the information already, or his team is wisely keeping him uniformed so he doesn’t screw things up.”

“I feel sorry for Sunny’s son, Yucky, having to report to Bieber.”

“I’m with you on that. Anything else?”

“No, that’s it. Anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks for the call,” Aaron said and hung up.

What could be better than pulled pork barbecue sandwiches for lunch? Morton and I went on a walk and headed into Rooster’s for sandwiches and a new beef marrow bone for Morton. Over lunch, Louie filled me in on his latest case, a soon-to-be-former grade-school principal arrested for driving-under-the-influence. Apparently, she was not a happy camper about being arrested, so she put up a fight with the arresting officers, spitting, kicking, and calling them names, all of which was recorded on their body-cameras. Her bail was set at fifty thousand dollars. She’d been placed on temporary leave by the school district administration. Louie finished the story by stating she’d be lucky to have a job in thirty days, and based on the body-camera video, she was liable to be unemployable in the education field.

It reminded me of my dinner tonight with Lily Varro. I made a mental note to grab some brownies at the bakery and pick up a couple bottles of wine to get Lily in the mood. I worked on the computer until 4:00, reviewing the last of the job applications for Pete Carter, my pal at the insurance company. Everything turned out well, and I scheduled an appointment with Pete the following morning.

I stopped at the bakery and got a half-dozen brownies for Lily, bought two bottles of wine at Solo Vino, and headed home to get cleaned up. I pulled into the driveway and let Morton into the backyard with his new marrow bone. Princess was stretched out on the kitchen counter in front of my coffee maker. I gave her a head scratch for a minute or two and a couple of Savory Treats. I placed the brownies in the plastic container with the blue lid and then grabbed a quick shower and shave.

I pulled on a reasonably clean pair of jeans, a button-down blue shirt, and my black python snakeskin boots. I got Morton in the house and placed a biscuit next to him. He moved the biscuit up against his pillow since he was currently involved with his marrow bone. Everything appeared to be in order in the kitchen, and I headed over to Lily’s place in the Wilder building.

I parked in the parking lot where Yucky and I were the other day. I glanced around but saw nothing that looked like the black Mercedes that Boris ‘The Gerbil’ was supposed to be driving. I climbed out of the car, grabbed the brownies and the wine bottles, and headed into the building. There was a small entry with a security phone and a larger lobby on the other side of the security door. Rather than a phone number, I input Lily’s unit number, 1312. She answered on the third ring.

“Lily Varro.”

“Hi, Lily, it’s Dev Haskell.”

“Right on time, Dev. I’ll buzz you in. Take the elevator up to the thirteenth floor. When you step off the elevator, turn right down the hall. My unit is 1312. See you in a minute.” A moment later, the security door buzzed.

I hung up the phone and pushed the door open. Two elevators were on the far side of the large lobby. I rode the elevator to the thirteenth floor, turned right, and walked down the hall. I passed Boris Bacon’s unit 1313 and knocked on Lily’s door across the hall and twelve feet farther down.

Lily opened the door five seconds later. “Oh, Dev. Thanks so much for coming. You can fill me in on everything I can’t remember from Julie’s yesterday,” she said as she closed the door behind me. She was barefoot and dressed in tight white shorts and a pink halter top that covered her shoulders and exposed her breasts. A brass clip in the center held the halter top together. It had my full attention as she leaned forward and gave me a sexy kiss on the lips, more than just a peck. As she leaned back, I took a deep breath and handed her the brownies.

“Oh my goodness, are these from the batch you made for Julie? They were so good.”

I shook my head and said, “No. I made a fresh batch this afternoon, just for tonight. I also brought some wine, so—”

“Oh, just to get me in the mood. Not that I need that,” she said, then laughed. “Well, thank you. Come on into the kitchen. I’m not kidding. Please fill me in on yesterday afternoon at Julie’s. I’m drawing a blank on most of it.”

“I left around 2:00, so you had another two or three hours there once I vamoosed.”

She shook her head as she set the plastic container with the brownies on the kitchen counter and handed me a glass of wine. She picked up what was her glass since it was half empty. We clinked glasses, and each took a sip.

“Let’s head into the sunroom,” Lily said, and I followed her through what would be the living room and into a narrow room with a window at the far end overlooking a city playground thirteen stories below. Two upholstered chairs were in the room with an end table between them. The TV was mounted on the wall opposite the chairs. A tray with cheese and crackers rested on the end table, and a half empty wine bottle was behind the tray. Once we were settled in on the chairs, Lily raised her glass, we clinked once more, and she took a sip. I set my glass down, grabbed a cracker, and spread some cheese across it.

“That’s a brie cheese. I hope you like it. I get it at Trader Joe’s.”

“Mmm, very good. So you mentioned yesterday that you haven’t heard much from your new neighbor across the hall.”

“That’s still the case. Of course, he could have had a band playing in there last night, and I wouldn’t have heard them. But he’s been very quiet. I’ve maybe heard the door close four or five times over the last two weeks. I’m unaware of anyone visiting him. I’ve chatted with a couple of neighbors, but we all think he pretty much keeps to himself. I was the only person who knew that his name was Boris Bacon. Two of the folks I talked with had no idea he had even moved in. I know the unit was furnished, so he probably moved in with just a couple of suitcases.”

“Do you know what kind of car he drives?”

She shook her head, drained her glass, and said, “I have no idea. Although, was it you or Julie who mentioned a black Mercedes?” She refilled her glass and raised the bottle toward me.

I shook my head and said, “It was probably both of us. He’s moved around a lot and now seems to be involved, or is getting involved, with a guy named Michael Mariani, not the nicest guy in town.”

“Is he some kind of gangster or something?”

“Mariani? Yeah, he’s—” Suddenly, a loud male voice came from the hallway. It wasn’t shouting or arguing, it was more like talking to someone at a distance. “Let me just check that out,” I said and hurried to the unit’s front door.

I looked through the peephole, and sure enough, there was Boris ‘The Gerbil’ Bacon. He was wearing black slacks and a white sports shirt. He was talking to someone who was approaching because Bacon had lowered his voice. A bald guy, maybe late forties or early fifties, wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt, suddenly appeared carrying a toolbox. Bacon pointed to the door of his unit. The guy opened it and stepped inside, and Bacon followed. I could just barely hear the sound of a male voice but couldn’t discern what was being said.

I walked back to Lily, she was sipping from her wine glass. “Well, there you go, that was Bacon. It looks like he was talking to a maintenance guy, or at least someone with a toolbox.”

“Oh, a bald man, probably in jeans and a blue T-shirt?”

“Yeah, that’s who he was talking to.”

“Yeah, that’s Gary. He’s on the maintenance crew. He’s really good, and if I have a problem and call him, no matter what he’s doing, he stops and comes right up here to fix whatever I need.”

Not surprising based on the tight shorts and the pink top she was wearing.

“What kind of problems do people have here that they call a maintenance guy?”

“Oh, the usual, and probably half of them are something they just don’t know how to work. The thermostat is a big one. The association turns the heat off sometime in May, and it comes back on in the fall. You always have someone fooling around with their thermostat, thinking it’s not working when, in fact, the heat has been turned off for the entire building. Appliances, of course, oh, and there are some light fixtures that are really difficult to change light bulbs, so Gary gets a lot of calls on that, too.”

We chatted for a few more minutes. Lily refilled her wine glass, and suddenly, the oven timer went off. “Oh, dinner is ready. Come on into the kitchen.”

I followed her, admiring the view. She had two small salads made that I placed on the dinner table. She pulled a pan with delicious-looking chicken breasts from the oven and set it on the stove. She dished red peppers from another pan, added a baked potato, and placed the chicken breasts on the plates. We each carried a plate over to the dinner table. Silverware, cloth napkins, and crystal wine glasses marked where we’d sit.

Sixteen

Lily set her plate down and said, “Take a seat. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was back fifteen seconds later with a bottle of white wine. She filled the crystal glass before me, then hers, and sat down. She raised her glass, and once again, we clinked glasses. Only this time, with the crystal glasses, they made a wonderful bell-ringing sound. Lily smiled at the sound. “Oh, I just love that,” she said and took a hearty sip. “You know they say they don’t clink their glasses in the upper circles because it’s more of a working-class thing to do.”

“Really? I would have thought it was just the opposite. Something that the wealthy would always do because they could afford crystal.”

“Well, I like doing it, and since I’m working class anyway, here’s to us,” she said, raising her glass again.”

“What do you do for work?” I asked as I cut into my chicken breast.

“Like so many people, I work from home now. I’m in the marketing department for a lingerie chain. I run ads.”

“Do you miss not going into the office?”

“Oh, I did at first, but now, well, not so much. I can get much more done on any given day and still take a break to run to the grocery store, take a walk, or go to my taekwondo class. People who still go to the office think I can do whatever I want, but the fact is, I’m getting way more done than they are. I’m answering emails at six in the morning and nine at night. I’m working while I eat lunch. I can work and not have to get dressed at all. I also work seven days a week, and I’m not unique. I probably do the work that two or three people used to do. I’m not bragging. Those are just the facts. Take this morning as an example. I was hungover. I took a hot soak in the tub, drank fruit juice, and didn’t get dressed until just before you arrived. But I also accomplished a ton of work. I didn’t have interruptions with people stopping at my desk and chatting for five minutes. My lunch took twenty minutes, and as I said, I worked while I ate. Not only that, but I don’t have to pay for parking, and I’m putting about half the miles on my car that I used to do. What about you?”

“Well, I’m self-employed, and I go to my office. But it’s just me and a guy I share the office with. Some days, I’m twiddling my thumbs, and other days, I’m working until midnight.”

We continued chatting and then returned to her sunroom after dinner. Lily opened one of the wine bottles I brought and set the plastic container with the brownies on the end table.

Over the next forty-five minutes, I ate a brownie and had a couple of swallows of wine. Lily ate three brownies and emptied the wine bottle. We heard someone talking in the hall, and I said, “Let me just check and see if that’s your neighbor.” I hurried to the front door and looked through the peephole but didn’t see anyone. I figured it was probably someone talking as they walked past.

Lily was in the kitchen opening another bottle of wine. She refilled her glass and said, “Pardon me for a moment. I’ll be right back.” I settled into my chair and took a small bite from the half-brownie Lily had left.

When she returned, a fresh wave of a lovely perfume drifted in with her. She topped up her wine glass, and at some point, she undid the brass clip holding her halter top together. Eventually, she led me into the bedroom, and the next thing I knew, it was 6:00 in the morning, and Lily was snoring. I quietly found my clothes scattered across the floor in three rooms and dressed. We had carried the dishes into the kitchen area at some point, and I rinsed them off, placed them in the dishwasher, and then turned the dishwasher on.

I left a note in the kitchen thanking her for a lovely evening and saying I’d call her later. I was about to leave her unit when I heard what sounded like a door closing. I glanced through the peephole, and there was Boris Bacon. A moment later, he headed down the hall and disappeared. I quietly opened the door and peeked out. A redheaded woman dressed in a black skirt and top was with him. Bacon had the woman by the arm and seemed to pull her down the hall. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but his tone sounded rather unpleasant.

I waited a moment before closing the door behind me. Bacon and the woman were headed toward the elevators, and since the hallway was curved just like the building, I could head in the same direction and stay back just far enough so he wouldn’t see me. I stopped a few doors away from the elevators and waited until I heard the bell ring, signaling the elevator had arrived. I listened as the elevator doors opened and then closed before I hurried over and pressed the down button.

I got off on the ground floor and half-ran to my car. I’d just closed the door and buckled up when a shiny black Mercedes pulled out of the garage area and turned to the right, driving past the parking lot I was in. It headed out onto Jefferson Avenue, where Bacon made a right-hand turn.

I quickly backed out of the lot and followed. At this hour, traffic was light, and I had to hold back. Bacon made a right turn onto Snelling Avenue, heading north. I had to speed up as he approached Grand Avenue since the traffic light signaled eight seconds before it turned red. I blasted through the Summit Avenue intersection one block later, just as the light turned red. Fortunately, there wasn’t a police car around. Bacon made a left-hand turn onto Portland Avenue. I slowed and waited for an oncoming car to pass before I made the turn. I pulled to the curb for a half-minute until a little more distance was between us. Bacon stopped in the middle of the street a couple of blocks later in front of a brick house on the corner. I drove a little closer and then pulled over. Eventually, the red-haired woman climbed out of the car, and as Bacon’s Mercedes pulled away, she gave him the finger and shouted something I couldn’t hear. She walked past the corner house and down the side street.

Bacon took a left at the next corner, and once he was out of sight, she hurried back to the front of the brick house and up the front steps. As I drove past, the woman was stepping in the front door. There were four mailboxes attached to the house next to the front door. The house was close to St. Thomas University, and I knew a number of homes had been turned into multiple rental units. I noted the address and took a right at the end of the block. I drove down to Selby Avenue, where I took another right and drove to my house.

I pulled into the driveway and entered through the front door, hoping I didn’t wake Morton or Princess. I didn’t hear any noise from the kitchen, and I tiptoed upstairs. Morton was sound asleep on my bed. Princess was curled up on the pillow on the far side of the bed. I quietly pulled trousers, a fresh shirt, and a sports coat from my closet and went into the bathroom. I showered, shaved, and was downstairs on my computer when Morton appeared forty-five minutes later. He came over for a head scratch and stood next to the back door. I let him out, got the food and water dishes filled, and then toasted both halves of a bagel. I placed slices of smoked salmon on the bagels and was finished eating by the time Morton was at the back door. Ten minutes later, Princess appeared and came over for a head scratch before she did her business.

Morton and I left Princess to her own devices and headed to the office. I had fresh coffee going when Louie finally arrived. I filled his mug, and once he had recovered from the stairs and had sipped some coffee, he asked, “You do anything last night? Oh, and what’s with the nice clothes?”

“I’ve got an appointment with Pete Carter this morning. As far as last night, no, it was just a quiet evening at home. I think I was in bed before 10:00.” Which was actually true, I just happened to be in bed with Lily Varro at her place. “Did you do anything?”

Louie shook his head. “Just a liquid dinner at The Spot, and I was home by 9:00.”

“I’ve got that 10:00 appointment with Pete Carter, so I’m going to be out of here in just a bit. Are you around this morning?” I asked.

Louie nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got a sentencing hearing at 2:00 this afternoon. Another first offense, so my guy should be able to drive to and from work, attend some AA meetings every week for the next ninety days, and hopefully stay in line.”

I was about to mention Lily and her apparent love of wine but quickly decided that wouldn’t be a good idea. Fifteen minutes later, I was heading downtown to Pete Carter’s office in the Wells Fargo Building. Ten years ago, there was no way I would have been able to find a parking place on a street in downtown St. Paul. That’s not the case today. The commercial space in the downtown area is close to forty-five percent vacant. Lily’s line about working from home and doing the work of two or three people is part of the contributing factor, along with the COVID crisis, the increase in office rental costs, online business, and a number of other things. I found a parking place on Wabasha Street just a block away. I grabbed my file off the passenger seat and walked back to the Wells Fargo Building. Pete’s office was on the fifth floor. The lobby had a sign announcing, ‘Space Available,’ and as soon as I stepped off the elevator on the fifth floor, I had the sense the floor was basically empty. I headed down the hall and stepped into Pete’s office lobby.

The woman behind the reception counter smiled and said, “Good morning. How may I help you?”

“Hi, I have an appointment with Mr. Carter.”

“Here for an interview?”

I shook my head and said, “No, I just completed a project for Mr. Carter. My name is Dev Haskell.”

She nodded, picked up the phone, and punched in a three-digit code. “Yes, Mr. Carter, I have a gentleman in the lobby named Dev Haskell. He has an appointment with you?” She suddenly laughed and said, “I'll let him know, sir.”

“Mr. Carter said he’d be right out.”

“We've known each other for a hundred years. What did he say that was so funny?”

She laughed again and said, “He told me you were anything but a gentleman.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. When we were younger, we—”

“Hi, Dev,” Pete said, cutting me off. “Come on back to my office. Carol, would you hold my calls until I escort this individual out of the office?”

I followed him back to his office. We gave each other a quick update on what we’d been doing, and then, once in his office, I settled into a brown leather client chair, and Pete sat down behind his desk. I handed him the file and said, “Everything checks out. The woman named Christine was off a few days regarding her start date at the bank, but everything else lined up.”

“What was wrong with her start date?”

“She had actually started on July 3, but she listed July 5. Probably confusion due to the holiday and the fact that it was three years ago.”

“Nothing else stood out?”

“Nothing else, and everything checked out, employment, college degrees, addresses, you name it.”

“Okay, how are you doing? What’s new?”

“Doing well. You remember Sunny Harrison?”

“From high school? Yeah, an attractive young lady with enough sense to avoid guys like us. What is she up to?”

“Unfortunately, she passed away—cancer. I met her two daughters and her son. At no surprise, they were all nice people.” We traded gossip for another twenty minutes, and then Pete decided he should get back to work. He escorted me out to the lobby, and I walked back to my car. It was mid-morning on a weekday, and there was an empty parking place behind and in front of my car, just in case I had any questions about the business world changing.

Seventeen

Iclimbed in my car and drove back to Portland Avenue. I parked in front of the brick house where Boris Bacon had dropped off the redheaded woman. I walked up to the front door in hopes of getting her name off one of the mailboxes. Instead of names, the mailboxes were numbered one through four.

As I turned to go back down the front steps, a woman asked, “Can I help you?”

I spun around, and there she was, the redheaded woman Bacon had dropped off earlier. “Excuse me?” I replied.

“I said, can I help you?” she said and stared for a moment.

“You know, you look familiar. Were you with a man named Boris Bacon last night?”

She made a face and said, “Oh my God. Were you at W.A. Frost’s last night?”

I nodded and lied, “So that was you, I saw. How did you ever end up with Boris Bacon?”

She shook her head. “Once again, I made a bad call on a man I met earlier. You’d think I’d catch on at some point.”

“But you’re okay. I mean, he didn’t do anything to you that—”

“No, I’m fine. He just turned out to be very impressed with himself, and the more I listened to him, the more he didn’t make any sense for me. And yes, to save you the trouble of guessing, in case you haven’t figured it out, I’m a working girl.”

“I wasn’t thinking like that, and it wouldn’t make any difference with me.”

She glanced past me and seemed to study my car for a moment. “Are you a cop?”

“No. However, you’d think that looking at my car. I bought it at a police auction a couple of years ago.”

“Do you work for the feds?”

I decided to gamble and take a chance. “I got a pal who’s had to keep an eye on Bacon. He isn’t all that happy with what he’s seeing, and he asked me to check the guy out.”

“So that’s how you ended up here?”

I ignored her question and asked, “You got time for a coffee? I’d be happy to buy over at Dunn Brothers.”

She seemed to think, then smiled and said, “If you insist.”

Dunn Brothers was four blocks away. We drove over to Grand Avenue. The sky was clear, and the temperature was on the verge of hot and humid, so we decided to sit inside. I paid for the coffee and a caramel roll for the lady.

Her name was Vanessa, or at least that’s what she told me. Although, given her profession, she might use a different name every day. She’d had a three-day affair with Boris Bacon, and before she climbed out of his car, she’d told him she never wanted to see him again.

“He’s just really into himself. Plus, he seems to do business with the sort of people we should all stay away from. Gangsters and thugs. He took me to some rich guy’s mansion around midnight last night. It was an absolutely beautiful place overlooking the river, and there were these rough guys hanging around.”

“Was it a big brick house on the River Boulevard?” I asked, thinking of Tubby Gustafson’s place.

“No, this was a mansion behind a tall iron fence with spikes and thorny bushes so no one could sneak in. It wasn’t brick. It was built with these great big gray stones. It was dark outside, and a fancy blue awning led up to the front door. Bacon had to dial a number and then give a password at the front gate to get in. Some guys were on the front porch, and they searched us. Well, they searched him, and they fondled me. Anyway, we went inside. Boris was carrying a briefcase, and this guy was seated at a fancy dining room table, all by himself, eating a cheeseburger from McDonald’s just after midnight. Boris starts talking to him and then introduces me, and he offered me to the guy. Fortunately, he said no. I guess he didn’t want to share his cheeseburger.”

“His name didn’t happen to be Michael Mariani, did it?”

“Oh, that sounds right. Of course, poopy Bacon never said his first name. He just called him Mr. Mariani. Do you know him?”

I shook my head. “Not really. I know a little about him, but that’s about it.”

“Well, he and Boris went into another room and left me sitting there alone. They came back out ten minutes later, and then we left. I told Boris I wanted to go home, but he took me back to his place—a little apartment in this great big building. I poured him all sorts of wine, and he finally passed out. I tried to open his briefcase, but it was locked, so I couldn’t. I woke him up early the next morning and made him drive me home. That’s when I told him I didn’t want to see him again.”

“What did he say when you told him that?”

“He called me a bunch of names, told me I’d be sorry, and then drove off.”

She sipped her coffee and took another bite of her caramel roll.

“Watch out for him. He’s not a nice guy.”

“Were you listening to me? God, I already know that.”

“Do you have anyone who can keep an eye on you? You know, just to make sure you're safe.”

“Well, first of all, everyone who contacts me has to go through a central business number. Once they’ve been approved, I meet them somewhere, never at my apartment. So, to answer your next question, he doesn’t know where I live, he doesn’t know my real name, and he doesn’t have my phone number.”

“Can you report him to your, umm, manager?”

“No, that’s not how it works. Customers like him just come with the job. I got paid, he didn’t get what he wanted, and I’m happy about that. I’ll keep an eye out for him. If there are any problems, I can give someone a call who’ll set him straight.”

“Just be careful.” We chatted for a few more minutes before I said, “Hey, I should get back to work. It’s been nice to meet you, Vanessa. Sorry it was under these circumstances. Can I give you a ride back to your place?”

“No, thanks. I could use the walk, and then I’m going to have a hot bath and catch some sleep.”

“Let me give you my card,” I said as I pulled a card from my wallet and handed it to her.

She looked at the card for a moment and said, “Oh, are you kidding? You’re really a private investigator?”

“Yeah, that’s what I do. If you think this Boris Bacon guy will create a problem, give me a call. I mean it.”

“Thanks, but I got friends.”

“Okay, well, thanks for the update,” I said.

She smiled intriguingly, and I held out my hand to shake. She laughed, shook my hand, and headed out the door. When I climbed in my car, I caught a hint of Vanessa’s perfume and drove home. I hurried in through the kitchen door. Princess was on the kitchen counter sniffing around the cupboard door where the Savory Treats were kept. I got a friendly meow for a greeting and gave her a head scratch for a minute before she rolled over and let me scratch her tummy, which was a first. When I was finished, she sat up and seemed to nod toward the cupboard.

I pulled out the bag of Savory Treats and dumped four into my hand, making a mental note as I did so to buy another bag. I held one of the treats in my hand. She licked it up immediately. I placed the other three on the counter and headed upstairs.

I returned my sports coat and button-down shirt to the closet, pulled on a sports shirt, and headed back downstairs. I confined Princess to the kitchen, topped up her water dish, and headed to the office.

Louie’s car was gone, and when I entered the office, Morton partially opened one eye, saw it was me, and went back to sleep. I poured myself a coffee, sat down at my desk, and pulled out my burner phone.

I dialed Yucky’s number and left a message after three rings. “Oh, I’m sorry. I think I dialed the wrong number,” I said and disconnected.

He returned my call maybe twenty minutes later. “Hi, Dev, you got something?”

“Yeah, I hope I didn’t wake you with that call.”

“Not a bother, I was already awake. What's up?”

“Nothing big, but you can add this to your list.” I went on to tell him about my meeting with Vanessa and her visit to Michael Mariani’s place last night.

“And you think she’s a working girl?”

“No, I know she is, and like I told you, it’s through a business setup, so she feels protected. Anyway, I gave her my card and told her to call me if she was concerned.”

“Giving her your card, Dev, I don’t know if that was such a good idea.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see. Anyway, Bacon refers to Mariani as Mister Mariani so that might give you some idea of the level that he’s currently at. It could be that Mariani is summoning him at these late hours to deliver, pay up, or both.”

“Interesting. Okay, well, unless something changes, I’ll be over there tonight. Maybe I’ll catch a glimpse of Bacon.”

“One can only hope. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Thanks, Dev. Have a good rest of the day.”

“You too, Yuck, and stay safe.”

Louie was back in the office a half hour later. He had been at the police station getting a new client released on bail and scheduling his court appearance. We chatted for a few minutes, and then Morton woke up and suggested that he was ready for a walk. We were halfway through our usual route when my cell phone rang. I glanced at the screen. It was Fat Freddy.

“Good afternoon, Freddy. I’m glad you called. I have an update for Mr. Gustafson. I was just about to call you,” I lied. “I’m out of the office right now, but I’ll be back in about seven minutes. Are you out in front?”

“You know I am, you idiot, and don’t lie to me. I can see your car parked right behind us, so get your dumb ass down here before I have Pee Wee cause some major damage to that trashy thing you drive.”

“Hey, Freddy, maybe you weren’t listening. I have a major update for Mr. Gustafson. You touch my car, and my lips will remain closed. I'm out walking my dog, and we’re just two blocks away. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

“You better not be playing me, Haskell.”

“We're on our way,” I said as we turned the corner back onto Randolph Avenue. Two blocks ahead, I could see the black Escalade parked in front of my car. “Are you still on the line? I can see your car in front of mine. Have Pee Wee check his side mirror, he should be able to see us.”

I raised the phone over my head and waved, and eventually, the brake lights on the Escalade flashed a couple of times as Pee Wee pumped the brakes.

“You still there, Freddy?” I asked, but the line was dead. We walked at a little faster pace until we were in front of the building. I stopped and faced the Escalade across the street. Pee Wee lowered the driver's window as I said, “I'm going to take Morton up to the office, and I’ll be right down.”

Pee Wee nodded and gave me a thumbs-up.

Eighteen

Iunclipped the leash, and Morton bounded up the stairs. We stepped into the office. Louie was napping in his chair. I went to my desk, grabbed a dog biscuit, and tossed it to Morton. He settled onto his pillow and then curled around the biscuit so he didn’t have to share. I hung up the leash and headed out of the office. Pee Wee slid out of the driver’s seat and opened the rear door for me as I stepped out of the building. I hurried across the street and into the Escalade.

“Thanks for waiting for me, guys. Hope I didn’t hold you up.”

“You said you’ve got some news for His Highness?” Fat Freddy asked.

“I do. I saw Boris Bacon this morning, and I—”

“Save it, dumb shit, that way I’ll only have to listen once.”

Once again, we made it in record time to Tubby’s mansion. One of the guards held the passenger door open for Fat Freddy and then patted me down. “You’re good to go, dumb ass,” he said, and I made my way to the front door and stepped inside. There wasn’t the usual guard just inside the front door, and Fat Freddy was halfway across the marble-floored entry.

“Do you want to pat me down, Freddy?”

“Get your ass over here, idiot, and shut up,” he said and then quickly glanced around to make sure no one heard him.

I caught up to him, and we headed down the hall to Tubby’s office. Freddy knocked on the door as he pushed it open and said, “I finally got Hassle, sir. We had to wait while he took his dog, Morgan, for a walk.”

When I heard Freddy refer to Morton as Morgan, it convinced me I had been correct in thinking he was responsible for setting me up with Boris Bacon the other night in The Spot. Information to keep tucked in the back of my mind.

Tubby was seated at his desk with several papers scattered in front of him. “Be with you in just a moment,” he said, running his finger across one of the pages, apparently reading. We waited a couple of minutes until he finished, then stacked the pages on top of one another and set them off to the side. “So, please tell me you have an update on the Boris Bacon situation, Haskell.”

“I do, sir. I was contacted by a source late this morning. She had been with Bacon more than once over the last few days. Last night around midnight, and against her will, although I’m not sure she offered a protest, he took her to Michael Mariani’s home.”

“And you know this how?”

“I know it because she told me, sir.”

“How do you know she was telling the truth? How do you know she wasn’t making it up just so you’d pay her?”

“Well, my first thought would be that since I don’t pay her, there would be no reason to make it up. Secondly, sir, she described the place as a stone mansion built with gray stones. She also mentioned a blue awning that led up to the front door. Armed guards were outside by the front door. Oh, and Bacon had to dial a number and give a password before the gate opened to let him in. This was after midnight, and they met Mariani in the dining room where he was eating a cheeseburger from McDonald’s.”

Tubby nodded and asked, “So, what was the purpose of this meeting?”

“I suspect some ongoing business, sir. She mentioned that Bacon never called Mariani by his first name. He always referred to him as Mr. Mariani. She said that Bacon offered her services to Mariani, and he apparently wasn’t interested. Then Bacon and Mariani went into another room. Bacon was carrying a briefcase. They were in the room for maybe ten minutes and then came back out, and Bacon drove her back to his apartment in the Wilder building. He took her home before 7:00 this morning, and she told him never to contact her again.”

Tubby chuckled at that last part, then said, “Good for her.”

“That's all I have at the moment, sir, but it suggests that Bacon may be making a late-night appearance, at least a couple of times a week, at Mariani’s mansion. It also confirms that, for the moment, Bacon is residing in the Wilder building in unit 1313. I have no news regarding any other contacts he may be involved with. She served him a large amount of wine, which caused him to sleep for a few hours, and then she made him drive her back to her place. She stepped out of his car and headed in the opposite direction from the building where she lives. She was insistent that Bacon doesn't know exactly where she lives, and as I mentioned, the last thing she told him was never to contact her again.”

Tubby seemed to think for a moment. "So she’s a working girl?”

“Yes sir. Bacon has to use a business number to contact her, so he is unable to contact her directly.”

Tubby glanced over at Fat Freddy and said, “Didn't you tell me you had someone keeping an eye on him all day, every day?”

“Yes, I did, and I’ll check with the individuals involved, sir.”

“Make sure they’re keeping their eyes open. Very well, Haskell. Once again, I’m pleasantly surprised, and though it pains me to say this, I thank you. Frederick, would you please get Haskell out of my sight?”

“Let’s go,” Fat Freddy said, heading toward the door.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll keep you apprised of the situation as much as possible.”

Once we were out in the hall and Freddy had closed the door, he looked at me and shook his head.

“What?”

“Never mind, Haskell. You’ve got no idea.”

Once again, the Escalade was waiting for us. I climbed in, and Pee Wee drove back to my office. When he pulled to the curb at the bus stop, I got out and stepped over to Fat Freddy’s window. He said something to Pee Wee, and they drove down the street before I could pretend to thank him for the ride. Something wasn’t right between his referring to Morton as Morgan, supposedly having people watching the Mariani mansion, and never seeing Boris Bacon arrive there twice. I was beginning to think that might be landing on Fat Freddy’s shoulders, and Tubby Gustafson was not the sort of guy you’d want to fool with.

I headed up to the office. Louie was still at his desk, but now he was awake. “Everything go okay with your pal, Tubby?”

“How'd you know that’s where I was?”

“Morton told me,” he said and then grinned. “Actually, I heard you leave and glanced out the window just as you climbed into that Escalade." He looked at his computer. "You were only gone about twenty-five minutes. It either went very well, or it was a disaster.”

“Just an update for Tubby on Boris Bacon. It was interesting. I get the feeling Fat Freddy may not be up to the job of keeping an eye on Bacon. The information I had about Bacon being at Mariani's last night was all news to Tubby, and I’m pretty sure it was news to Fat Freddy as well. I might be wrong, but Freddy just might be heading toward thin ice.”

“Maybe there’s a job opportunity for you in there.”

“Working for Tubby Gustafson? God, I’d be in jail within the week. No thanks. Life is tough enough as it is.”

“Just watch out for Fat Freddy. He strikes me as the type who’d like nothing better than to pass all the blame onto you. Just make sure everything you tell Tubby is accurate.”

“The real key here is to not tell him too much. Which reminds me, I need to give Aaron LaZelle a call.” I sat down at my desk, phoned Aaron, and ended up leaving a message. “Hi, Aaron, this is Dev. I was wondering if you’d have time for dinner one of these next few nights. I’ve got some general information you might find interesting. Oh, and yes, I’m aware it’s my turn to buy. Talk later, bye.”

“Good luck with him finding some free time. They’re short-staffed and already overworked.”

“You aren’t kidding,” I replied. Amazingly, Aaron called back about fifteen minutes later. “Hi, Aaron. Thanks for returning my call.”

“Are you kidding? A once-in-a-lifetime call from you offering to pay for dinner. Just tell me which McDonald’s to meet you at, and I’ll be there.”

“Hey, no one is more surprised than me. I was thinking of something a little more upscale than McDonald’s. Would you be up for dinner at Emmett’s over on Grand Avenue?”

“Oh, that sounds great. It’s been a while since I’ve been there. Could we go a little later, say around 7:00? I’ve got to run a couple of errands at the end of the day.”

“Not a problem. I’ll call and make a reservation for 7:00, and I’ll see you there. Thanks for making time.”

“Don't forget, you’re paying,” he laughed and hung up.

I made a reservation for 7:00 and then checked out a couple of ‘dating sites’ looking for Vanessa. I never found anything with her picture, and if she’d given me the name of the site she was on, I’d already forgotten it. I kicked myself for not getting her phone number, not that I wanted to do anything other than check to make sure she was okay.

Morton and I did our walk and then joined Louie in The Spot for a half hour. I took a pass on a beer only because I would probably have a couple of Guinness over dinner with Aaron. I did buy a drink for Louie, and of course, Morton got his daily helping of pork rinds. We headed home, and since it was a fairly warm evening and Emmett’s was casual attire, I remained in my jeans and sports shirt. I got Princess and Morton settled in and then headed to Emmett’s.

It used to be located in a one-story building with a bar and a Japanese restaurant just across the hall. A year ago, the building was torn down and replaced by a five-story apartment building with Emmett's on the ground floor. In a version of downtown St. Paul, Grand Avenue, as recently as five years ago, was one of the primary retail streets in the city. Today, unfortunately, not so much. At the moment, there were sixteen empty storefronts along a ten-block area, once again due to a combination of retail rental costs and folks ordering everything online. Emmett’s seemed to be doing well and was probably seventy-five percent filled. It was an Irish restaurant, or actually, American-Irish, serving Irish stew, Guinness, brown bread, roast potatoes, as well as sirloin steaks and cheeseburgers.

I gave my name to the hostess, and she led me to a booth in the back of the dining room. I’d been reading the menu and the front page with information on the restaurant’s history. It turned out the place was named after the owner’s father. Aaron arrived ten minutes later. I gave him a wave, which he eventually saw, and he headed over.

“Hey, Dev, hope you didn’t have to wait too long,” he said as he slid into the booth across from me.

“Not a problem, just studying the menu.”

A server appeared, and we ordered two pints of Guinness. We studied the menu until she returned. I ordered beef stout pie, and Aaron ordered corned beef and cabbage.

Once the server left, we clinked our pint glasses, and Aaron glanced around the room. "A little fancier than the old place,” he said.

“Yeah, it’s nice. Not that the old place wasn’t, but it’s still got that laid-back feel that I like.”

We chatted as we ate, staying away from anything regarding Boris Bacon, Tubby Gustafson, and Michael Mariani. We were just about to order an after-dinner drink when Aaron’s phone rang, letting off a loud siren sound. A couple across the way looked over and shook their heads as Aaron tapped the phone screen to stop the noise.

“LaZelle,” he answered. “Mmm-hmm. Approximate time? Tell me where, and I’ll head over.” He shook his head as he set his phone on the table.

“Doesn't sound good,” I said.

“A woman was found dead in her apartment about an hour ago. She appears to have been bludgeoned to death. So much for a quiet night off. I’ll head over there in a minute. You want the rest of my pint? I only took a sip.”

“Where was this? Don’t tell me it was a brick house on Portland Avenue that had been converted to four rental units.”

Aaron got a surprised look on his face. “What in the hell do you know about this?” he asked.

“Damn it, Vanessa. She’s a redhead.”

Aaron shook his head. “No, this woman’s name is Marissa O’Brien.”

Nineteen

Iquickly paid the bill, and we hurried out of Emmett’s. I followed Aaron over to Portland Avenue Three patrol cars were parked in front of the brick house. A BCA van (Bureau of Criminal Affairs) was parked in the driveway just off the side street. A half-dozen people, obviously neighbors, were standing across the street watching us as we parked two houses away and hurried back to the brick house.

A uniformed officer was stationed at the front door. “Hi, LT,” he said as Aaron came up the stairs.

“How's it going, Andy?” Aaron replied and then nodded toward me. “Private Investigator Dev Haskell, he’s familiar with the victim.”

“She was in unit four?” I asked the officer.

“That's where they found her.”

“Yeah, it’s her. I had coffee with her this morning,” I said.

I followed Aaron into the entryway, and we headed up the oak-paneled staircase to the second floor. Unit four was on the right-hand side of the hallway. The entry door was open, and we stepped inside.

Aaron got a nod from the plain-clothes man seated on a couch in the living room area. He quickly stood and said, “Thanks for coming, Lieutenant. Sorry to interrupt your evening. Excuse me, I know you, but I’ve forgotten your name.”

“This is Dev Haskell, a friend of mine,” Aaron said. “Dev, this is Detective James Schaffer.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, and Schaffer nodded. “I’m a PI in town. We were having dinner over on Grand Avenue. I’m thinking this Marissa O’Brien might be a woman I had coffee with this morning. She told me her name was Vanessa. I never asked for and she never gave me a last name. I did give her one of my business cards.”

“How did you know her?” Shaffer asked.

“I didn’t. Last night, I was staying in a client’s unit in the Wilder building. Boris Bacon, a guy I’ve been looking into, had just moved in across the hall from my client a couple of weeks ago.” I told them about Bacon dropping Vanessa off and her pretending to walk past the house and then hurrying back once Bacon drove around the corner. “So, as far as I know, and she thought, Boris Bacon didn’t know where she lived.”

“And she told you she was a working girl?”

“Oh yeah, she was very open about it. She also said that her customers called a business number, and the business contacted her. As far as she knew, her customers never had her phone number and never knew where she lived. Over the course of the thirty or so minutes that we talked, she seemed fairly intelligent. I wouldn’t have pegged her as some drug-addled person if that’s what you’re thinking,” I said. “I left her at Dunn Brothers. She said she would walk home, climb into a hot bath, and take the rest of the day off.”

“So she walked home from the Dunn Brothers over on Grand Avenue?”

“As far as I know. It’s about four blocks from here.”

A door opened in a hallway off to the left, and two guys in white hazmat suits angled a gurney out of a room. A black body bag was on the gurney and they wheeled it into the living room. “They’ll finish up in the room in about fifteen minutes,” one of the guys said.

“Hold up for just a moment, Gary. Haskell, would you mind taking a look and identifying the woman?” Schaffer asked.

“Be happy to help,” I replied, not looking forward to the task.

Gary, the guy in the hazmat suit, reached over and unzipped the body bag about eighteen inches down and then pulled the two sides apart, exposing the victim’s face. Unfortunately, her hair was red, and it was the woman I’d known for thirty minutes as Vanessa. Her nose was broken, and the left side of her face was bruised and swollen. Dried blood seemed to be everywhere.

“Looks like she got the hell beat out of her,” Aaron said.

Gary nodded. “Our preliminary assessment is she was beaten with a solid device, maybe a small baseball bat or the handle of a hammer or some other tool. Bruising over a good part of her upper body. When we get her back in the lab, we’ll examine for rape, and hopefully, we’ll be able to locate some form of DNA from the assailant.”

I had to look away from the victim’s face. From the few minutes I knew her, she didn’t deserve this, but then, no one did. Gary eventually zipped the body bag closed, and they wheeled the gurney out into the hall and made their way to the staircase.

“So you just met her this morning?” Schaffer asked.

“Yeah, and no, I wasn’t a customer if that’s what you were thinking. She didn’t hide the fact that she was a working girl. But as I said, she seemed to feel fairly safe with whatever group was running the operation. My first suspect would be this jackass, Boris Bacon. I believe he’s trying to weasel into the drug trade. He seems to move about every fifty days. The Wilder building is his latest place, and he’s in unit thirteen-thirteen, been there for just a little more than a couple weeks, and he’s got an arrest record. I think his last sentence was five years. The DEA is aware of him, and he’s apparently doing everything he can to get in tight with Michael Mariani.”

“They’re all nice people,” Schaffer said and shook his head. “You’re welcome to stay, LT, but we'll be going through the unit, so no offense, but you’ll probably be in the way. Thus far, we’ve been unable to detect any video security in the building.”

Aaron shook his head and said, “The last thing you need is the two of us in the way. We’ll chat tomorrow. Call if you need anything.”

“Nice to see you again, Haskell,” Schaffer said.

“Thanks, same here. Oh, there is one thing I should add. This Boris Bacon character drives a black Mercedes. I don’t have a license plate number, but he parks it in the garage at the Wilder building.”

“Thanks, we’ll be checking it out,” Schaffer said as we stepped out of the unit and headed down the staircase. Two uniformed officers were talking to a sobbing woman in front of unit number two, just below Marissa O’Brien’s unit. We stepped outside, got a friendly nod from the officer standing next to the front door, and headed down the front steps.

As we stepped away from the building and headed for our cars, Aaron asked, “Is this Bacon character dealing with your good friend Tubby Gustafson?”

“No, he’s not, and I’m sure Tubby would like nothing better than to have Bacon tied to this murder. If he had any information on the guy, he’d be more than happy to share it with you if he thought it might help with an arrest.”

“Touch base with him and keep me posted.”

“Happy to do that. I’ll give him a call in the morning and let you know what he says.”

We shook hands and climbed into our cars. Aaron took a right at the corner and headed toward his home. I took a left and headed over to Selby Avenue and then down to my place. I pulled into the garage and went in through the back door. Morton was on his pillow, awake but clearly tired. He looked at me as I stepped into the kitchen and slowly came over for a head scratch. Once that was finished, I let him out to the backyard. I gave Princess a rub down and finished up with a couple of Savory Treats. I gave Morton a biscuit when he came back five minutes later, and he settled back on his pillow.

I kept thinking about Marissa O’Brien, or Vanessa, as I knew her, wondering if there was something I could have done to prevent this from happening. I couldn’t come up with anything that would have made a difference, short of letting her hide at my place, and that was too far-fetched to continue thinking about.

I was online for the next hour or so searching for information on Marissa O’Brien and came up empty-handed. I turned on the TV and checked out a series on Netflix that I turned off after fifteen minutes. I got the coffee ready for the morning, checked on Morton and Princess, and headed upstairs.

It was just after 11:00 when I placed a call to Yucky on my burner phone. I left the same message as before, saying I’d dialed the wrong number. He returned my call from an unlisted number ten minutes later.

“Hey, Yuck, thanks for returning my call.”

“You got anything?”

“Just an update.” I went on to tell him about the O’Brien murder and that I suspected Bacon was involved.

“It certainly sounds like he could be. Let me give you another possibility, and that would be Mariani,” Yucky said.

“No offense, Yuck, but why? From what she told me, other than Mariani telling Bacon he wasn’t interested in her, she didn’t interact with anyone. Well, except that whoever searched her for a weapon was a little more involved than your basic pat-down.”

“Yeah, but she witnessed the interaction between Bacon and Mariani. I would think Mariani may have done this to teach Bacon to keep a low profile and never, ever mention Mariani, let alone offer a woman to him.”

“Hmmm, I never considered that.”

“Despite living in that big mansion that I happen to be keeping an eye on at the moment, the guy keeps a pretty low profile. Hearing this, I’m wondering if Bacon just shot himself in the foot by offering the woman. It will be interesting to see if we pick up on anything happening or not happening.”

“Well, if you find anything out, please keep me posted. Your wife doing okay with you on the graveyard shift?”

“That would require some verbal interaction, which she doesn’t seem to be interested in at the moment.”

“Oh, sorry I even brought it up. Hey, I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Thanks, Dev. You take care,” he said and disconnected.

Twenty

Iwas up, dressed, and finished with breakfast by the time Morton made his way downstairs. I let him outside and filled the food and water dishes for him and Princess. Once they were fed, Morton and I headed out to the garage and drove down to the office. I got the coffee going, settled in on my desk chair, and scanned the apartment building across the street. Unfortunately, the blinds were closed, and the shades were drawn in every unit, so there was absolutely nothing to see. A horrible way to start my workday. I’d never run into that before. In the past, even if there was no live person, the shades were up and the blinds were open. I wondered if someone had spotted me and the word was out?

Louie was in a half hour later. I filled his coffee mug and set it on the picnic table. After he’d settled into his desk chair, had some coffee, and recovered from climbing the stairs, he said, “Everything okay, Dev? You look like you’re dealing with some bad news.”

At the moment, I was checking the local papers to see if there was any news on Marissa O’Brien's murder. Unfortunately, and at no surprise, nothing was mentioned. I brought Louie up to date on that situation and then gave him the bad news of not being able to peek into the apartment units across the street.

“Dev, how would they have the slightest idea you’re checking them out every morning? The window you look out of is tinted. No one can see you, which is one of the reasons you do it every day. I can’t believe someone contacted everyone in the building and had them pull their shades and blinds. It’s probably just a coincidence.”

“I hope that’s the case,” I said. I was tempted to check in with Yucky to see if things were any better in his life and maybe get an update on whether Bacon showed up last night at Mariani’s. But just like before, the more I thought about it, the more contacting Yucky seemed like a bad idea.

The mail arrived with my check from Pete Carter, suggesting that my luck might be changing. I glanced out the window and realized all the blinds and shades had been opened. Louie was talking legalese to whomever was on the phone, and the noon hour was approaching, so I signaled Rooster’s to him, clipped the leash on Morton, and we went on our walk.

At the end of our walk, we went into Rooster’s, got two sandwiches plus a new bone for Morton, and headed back to the office. Louie was still on the phone. I placed a sandwich on his picnic table and settled in at my desk. Morton was up close and personal with his new bone. Just as I finished my sandwich, Louie hung up his phone.

“God, some people just don’t know when to stop,” he said.

“An unhappy client?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, the unhappy mother of a client. She thought it might be best to protest the arrest of her daughter for driving-under-the-influence. I told her they tested her daughter on a breathalyzer. Of course, the mother thought it was malfunctioning.”

“What was the rating they got?”

“One point two. I told her she was lucky this was a first offense, and so the fine wasn’t too severe.”

“She didn’t want to hear that?”

“She's the type of individual that would, how can I say it, use her rights to the limit and then be upset when the judge did the same thing and doubled the daughter’s fine and took away her driver’s license. Good Lord, what did I do to deserve this?”

“Do you think the daughter asked her mother to call?”

“No, actually, just the opposite. I’m sure the daughter told her mother not to call, and of course, the mother knows better. She wants me to remind the judge that the girl's father is a very successful businessman, a big wheel in town.”

“Who is he?”

“I’m not going to tell you. Suffice it to say, thank God she called me and not the judge in the case.”

My burner phone rang. It was an unlisted number. I was going to answer using Yucky’s name but then decided against that. “Hello?”

“Hi, Dev, it’s me, Yucky.”

“Oh yeah, Yuck. I thought it might be you, but I didn’t want to answer in case it was someone checking phone numbers on your burner.”

“Probably a good idea. Listen, I would appreciate it if you don’t ask me any questions on this, but I’m wondering if you might drive past my place late tonight and see if there’s a car out front.”

“Okay, happy to do that. I’m guessing you want me to do this once you’ve left for your graveyard shift.”

“Yeah, I’m usually heading out around 11:00. So sometime between, say, 11:00 and 1:00. I’ll pay you for your time.”

“No, you won’t, and if you try to do that, I won’t accept it.”

“You don’t have to do that, Dev.”

“You’re right, but your mother was a great pal when we were kids. We’ve become friends, and I enjoy your company. You’ve helped me out with some good information, and the bottom line is I’m not going to let you pay me. This discussion is closed.”

“Thanks, man, I’ll owe you.”

“Don't worry about it. I’ll call you tomorrow if I see anything.”

“I appreciate it,” he said and disconnected.

Yucky’s call reminded me I had to get in touch with Lily Varro. I called her on my desk phone. She answered on the second ring, saying, “Well, I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever hear from you again after you didn’t call me yesterday.”

“At least you got the note I left.”

“Yeah, and I waited next to my phone all day, but you never called,” she said then fortunately followed up with a laugh.

“A crazy day. Have you heard anything from your man across the hall?”

“That Bacon person? No, thankfully. Not so much as a peep.”

“Well, just an update, he’s now the suspect in a murder.”

“What?”

I told her about following Bacon and Marissa O’Brien out of the unit across the hall from her yesterday morning, having coffee with Marissa, and then the unfortunate situation last night.

“Oh. My. God. Julie Rollins was right, this guy is just the scum of the earth. I’ll have to get out of here. I don’t want to be anywhere near that awful creature.”

“Well, at least at this point, what I told you is complete conjecture. Other than seeing him drop her off on Portland Avenue and the woman telling him she never wanted to see him again, there is nothing I’m aware of that connects them. Nothing like a picture or fingerprints, at least not yet. Things might be different by the end of the day once the BCA examines the body and hopefully recovers a DNA sample. Based on the assault that led to her death, they'll possibly find DNA beneath her fingernails or fingerprints in her apartment.”

“I still don’t want to be anywhere near this dreadful person.”

“Let me check with the police and see what I can find out. Keep your door locked and let your friends in the building know that it would be a good idea to stay away from this guy.”

“I need to find somewhere to go,” she said, suggesting my place would be the logical location.

“Let me do some checking, and we’ll get you taken care of. Is your door locked?”

“Yes, of course. It locks automatically.”

“Good. I’ll be back in touch with you in a bit,” I said and hung up.

I phoned Julie Rollins, thinking if I gave her the update, with any luck, she’d offer to have Lily stay with her. “Hello,” was how Julie answered.

“Hi, Julie, it’s Dev Haskell.”

“Oh, so you’ve recovered after your night with Lily. I heard you were quite the guest.”

God, Lily must have told her, which meant she wouldn't offer to have Lily stay with her because it would only be natural that I would want Lily at my place. “Just checking in, and, unfortunately, I’ve got an update on Boris Bacon.”

“Oh, please tell me he was run over by a train or the plane he was in crashed into the Mississippi River.”

“No, nothing like that, and either one of those would be a better option.” I gave her an update and ended with, “I’m just worried about Lily having him right across the hall from her. I don’t know if the police have taken him in for questioning yet.”

“Is Lily going to be staying with you?” she asked, ending any hope of Lily camping out at Julie’s. I finally decided I’d do the right thing and said, “I’m going to call her back and make that offer. I want to check in with the police first and see if there’s any news. Then I’ll get back to Lily.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll both enjoy yourselves,” she said and laughed. “If you hear anything else, please let me know. I’m thinking I might need a safe place to stay until this gets settled. I haven’t seen that black car drive past since the other day, but it would be just like Boris ‘The Gerbil’ to decide this would be the perfect place for him to hide out.”

“Well, if you need a place, I’ve always got some room in my garage,” I laughed.

“Thanks for the offer. I’ll keep you in mind,” she said.

“I’ll call you with any updates,” I replied, but she had already disconnected.

I placed a call to Aaron’s cell phone. He didn’t answer, and I hung up when I was dropped into his message center and phoned Lily again.

“What did you find out?”

“Hi, Lily. I haven’t found out anything but I think if you want to get out of there, you could stay at my place. I’ve got a guest room, and I—”

“A guest room? No need to pretend you’re a gentleman, Dev. I’d love to curl up next to you, and this time, you might still be in bed when I wake up in the morning.”

“Well, you know I work some strange hours. Unfortunately, it comes with the job.”

“All the more reason to have something to look forward to when you eventually get into bed. Tell me, honey, what’s your address?”

I gave her my address and told her I would be home at 6:00. I also told her I had to check on something after 11:00, so I’d probably be out working until midnight. Once off the phone, I made a mental note to grab a couple of frozen pizzas on the way home.

“Sounds like you’re one hell of a busy man,” Louie said.

I just shook my head. “I think this is the first time in my life I’ll have two women possibly spending the night at my place, and I was really hoping to spend the night alone. God, have I gotten that old?”

“Maybe you should take the guest room, and the two—”

“Forget it, Louie.”

Morton and I joined Louie at The Spot after our walk. We only stayed for a half hour, and once again, I took a pass on a beer. On the way home, I remembered to grab a couple of frozen pizzas, along with a dozen eggs, bacon, six bottles of wine, sliced ham, maple syrup, pancake mix, salad makings, sliced cheese, and chicken breasts. I had just finished putting the groceries away and placing the pizzas on two cookie sheets when the front doorbell rang.

I followed Morton out of the kitchen to the front door. I glanced out the window next to the door, and there was Lily with two suitcases. She was wearing blue jeans that looked sprayed on and a black halter top. I opened the door and said, “Well, hello. Perfect timing, I’ve got dinner ready to go in the oven.”

She gave me a quick kiss as she dragged the suitcases in. “Oh, I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay here until they arrest that wretched man.”

“Have you seen him?”

“No, I didn’t see the police, but someone told me they were knocking on his door. Hopefully, he’s fled the state.”

“Just leave your luggage there and come on into the kitchen. Can I offer you a glass of wine?”

“I'm pretty sure one glass isn’t going to be enough. But yes, I’ll start with that,” she said as she wheeled her suitcases next to the staircase. She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a probing kiss. “Oh, this is going to be wonderful, baby,” she said, then kissed me again.

“How ’bout that wine,” I said, leading her into the kitchen.

Morton hopped off his pillow as we stepped into the kitchen. He came over for a head scratch as he shoved his nose between Lily’s legs. “Oh, I see you have him well trained,” she laughed.

“Let me get you a glass of wine. That’s Morton,” I said as I opened the refrigerator. I twisted the cap off the bottle, poured a glass, and handed it to Lily.

‘Meow,’ Princess called out from underneath the kitchen table.

“Oh, you’ve got a cat?”

“Yeah, she keeps to herself.”

“Good, because I’m allergic to cats.”

Part of me thought that might be good news. “Let me turn the oven on and get the pizzas going. Can you eat sausage and cheese?”

She smiled, nodded, and then took a healthy swallow of wine.

Twenty-One

Lily was on her third glass of wine, and we were two-thirds of the way through our pizza when the doorbell rang. She’d just given me the security code to enter her building and the key to her unit so I could check it later tonight. “Oh, back in a minute. Let me see who that is,” I said, heading to the front door. Lily had been dropping bits of pizza on the kitchen floor, which meant Morton had no interest in whoever rang the doorbell.

I opened the front door. Julie Rollins flashed a smile and handed me a warm pan of cookies. “Here you go, Dev. Thanks for the offer. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was the safe thing to do, and I couldn’t pass it up,” she said as she wheeled her suitcase in. “Oh,” she said, studying the two suitcases. “Don’t tell me those are Lily’s.”

“As a matter of fact, they are. Leave yours right next to them and come on into the kitchen. We’re in the middle of eating pizza. Can I offer you a glass of wine?”

“I’d love some wine,” she said, following me into the kitchen. As we stepped in, Morton hurried over and greeted Julie in his fashion.

“Meet Morton,” I said.

I glanced over to see Lily pouring the last of the wine into her glass. “Hi, Julie,” she called and followed up with a couple of swallows of wine.

“Oh, Lily, glad you’re here and not in your building. What’s the latest?” Julie asked.

Lily started at the beginning, not this morning but two and a half weeks ago when Boris Bacon arrived in the Wilder building. I opened the refrigerator, took out another bottle of wine, twisted off the cap, filled a glass, and set it in front of Julie, who was seated at the kitchen counter next to Lily.

She nodded a thank you as Lily continued about Boris ‘The Gerbil’ Bacon.

I put three slices of pizza on a plate and set it in front of Julie. She nodded another thank you and took a sip of wine. Lily continued with her story for ten more minutes. Julie occasionally asked a question. They continued chatting back and forth. I cleared the dishes, loaded the dishwasher, topped up their wine glasses, and then loaded a plate with the cookies that Julie brought.

“Mmm,” Lily said after taking her first bite, and then the conversation turned to recipes. It took the better part of an hour, but eventually, the cookies were gone. I’d had one and was now in the process of opening a third bottle of wine. Since I was going to drive past Yucky’s house and was half-thinking something might be going on at Mariani’s mansion tonight, I wasn’t drinking. Eventually, I suggested the ladies might move into the living room, and I’d get Morton and Princess settled in for the night.

I joined them in the living room a half hour later, and the conversations continued. I opened a fourth bottle of wine and left an hour early to check on Yucky’s house. It was nice to get into my car and not hear any noise. I drove past his house on LaFond Avenue. His blue Toyota Corolla was still parked in the driveway beside the house.

I thought for half a second about heading over to The Spot, but that immediately seemed like a dumb idea. Instead, I drove over to the Wilder building and entered using the security code Lily had given me. I rode the elevator up to the thirteenth floor and walked down the hall to Lily’s unit. At this time of the night, 10:40, the only noise I heard was a television as I passed one of the units.

I slowed down as I passed Bacon’s unit but didn’t hear anything. I stepped over to Lily’s unit. The door was locked, and everything appeared to be in order. Just as I inserted my key into the lock, I heard what sounded like a lock snapping. I quickly unlocked Lily’s door, stepped inside, and looked out the peephole. I may have seen something move by Bacon’s door, but I wasn’t sure. I waited a few seconds, quietly opened the door, and peeked down the hallway. Bacon was heading down the hall toward the elevators, pulling a suitcase behind him. I closed the door to Lily’s unit and followed him at a distance. Just like before, I hung back from the elevators until I heard a bell ring, signaling the arrival of an elevator. As soon as I heard the doors close, I hurried to the elevators and pressed the down button. An elevator arrived thirty seconds later. Once on the ground floor, I hurried out to my car in the parking lot and waited. I didn’t have to wait long. Just like the last time I’d followed him, he took a right turn out of the area and headed toward Snelling Avenue. He took another right, turning onto Snelling, but at this hour of the night and with my headlights on, I pulled in behind him and noted the model, a Mercedes coupe, GLE 63 S. I wasn’t sure what the cost was, but I figured it could easily be eighty grand. The light was red, turning onto Snelling Avenue, and even at this hour, there was enough traffic to give me a chance to write down the license plate number on a cheeseburger wrapper. He eventually turned, and I followed him down Snelling and across University Avenue, where he turned onto Sherburne Avenue and parked at the end of the block.

I immediately turned off my headlights and pulled over. Bacon was out of the Mercedes a moment later. He appeared to look up and down the street, then walked across the side street and took a right. I drove down the block with my lights off. The side street was Asbury North, and no sign of Bacon existed. I drove across Asbury and pulled over. I got out and walked back to the corner. I couldn’t see Bacon anywhere, but I was pretty sure he’d gone into a two-story apartment building that looked like it had been built in the late 1920s. There was a sign next to the front door.

No Loitering

Violators Will Be

Prosecuted

I waited on the opposite corner, leaning against a boulevard tree and behind a rusty pickup truck.

Bacon stepped out of the building fifteen minutes later and made a beeline for his Mercedes. He was carrying a briefcase, and I remembered Vanessa, or actually, Marissa, mentioning the briefcase he had when he took her to Mariani’s mansion. He hopped in his car and sped around the corner toward University Avenue.

By the time I got in my car, backed up, and turned toward University Avenue, he had disappeared. Still, I had information I could pass on to Yucky, and I wasn’t far from his house. I climbed into my car, locked the doors, and headed to Yucky’s house.

Sure enough, Yucky’s car was gone, but there was a red hatchback in the driveway with a Toyota logo. All the lights appeared to be off in the house. I parked down the street and then walked back to Yucky’s.

It was dark, with only a few front porch lights on. I pulled out my phone, knelt behind the car, and took a picture of the license plate. I headed back to my car and decided to wait and see if whoever owned the vehicle would leave. After ten minutes, I decided to head home and check on my guests.

On the drive back to my place, I thought about calling Yucky and decided that giving him the information the next day might be the better option. I would call my pal Dave McGovern at the DMV first and get the owner’s name and address.

I pulled into my driveway fifteen minutes later. The house was dark except for the kitchen lights, which were still on. I parked in the garage and went in the back door. Morton was sacked out on his pillow, and ever the watchdog, he didn’t so much as twitch as I stepped into the kitchen and closed the door behind me. I tiptoed to the carrier box and checked on Princess, who was sound asleep. The kitchen counter had four empty wine bottles and the remnants of the second pizza I’d purchased for tomorrow’s dinner. I quietly set up the coffee pot for ten cups tomorrow morning and then turned off the kitchen lights. I checked the front door to make sure it was locked. The three suitcases were still at the base of the stairs. I left them there and tiptoed up to bed. There was only one problem, both Lily and Julie were in my bed, snoring, with their arms around one another.

I cursed myself for not having a video camera in my bedroom. It might have been interesting. I left the bathroom light on in the event one of them was up in the middle of the night and climbed into the bed in the guest room.

At no surprise, I was the first one up in the morning. I showered, slipped into the same clothes I’d worn yesterday, and headed downstairs.

Morton woke as the coffee maker began to work. He stretched and then came over for a head scratch. I let him into the backyard and filled the food and water dishes for him and Princess. Maybe an hour later, I heard what sounded like the shower running upstairs. I placed two mugs in front of the coffee pot, filled two glasses with orange juice, and set two aspirin in front of each orange juice glass. I mixed up the pancake batter, put the syrup on the counter, and turned on my laptop.

When Julie entered the kitchen, Morton was engaged with a rawhide bone on his pillow. She groaned, “Good morning.”

“Two aspirin and a glass of orange juice for you on the counter, Julie. Interested in a coffee?”

“Please,” she said as she tossed the aspirin in her mouth and downed the glass of orange juice.

I poured her a coffee and set it in front of one of the kitchen stools then turned on the stove and started on the pancakes. I waited for Julie to say something, anything, but she quietly sipped her coffee and looked as if she was trying to remember the previous night. As I placed a plate of pancakes in front of her, I heard the shower turn on upstairs, signaling that Lily was awake.

I made another three pancakes for myself and had almost cleaned my plate when Lily finally appeared in the kitchen. I instructed her on the orange juice and aspirin, poured her a coffee, and made her pancakes. They both remained quiet and appeared involved in their breakfast, although I thought I might have caught a quick hug in a reflection off the coffee pot.

Eventually, I got ready to head to the office. “Okay, ladies, I’d better get to work. Morton comes with me, so you don’t have to worry about him, and Princess will take care of herself. Lily, how are you doing with the cat allergy?”

“Just sort of itchy, but I think if I stay in another room, I should be okay.”

“Feel free to close the kitchen door and keep her in the kitchen. That’s what I do every day. I’m just a phone call away if you need anything. Morton and I will be home around 6:00. Help yourself to anything in the refrigerator or cupboards. If I get an update on Boris Bacon, I’ll let you know. Oh, and if you leave the house, the doors lock automatically, so be careful. Have a good day. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Take care, Dev, and stay safe,” Lily called.

Julie followed up with, “Try to behave,” as I closed the door.

Morton settled into the back seat, and I backed out of the garage. As I headed down the driveway, I glanced at the kitchen window and caught Lily and Julie in a hug. Making me think I might be spending the next couple of days in the guest room.

I got the coffee going in the office and left a message for Aaron LaZelle.

“Hi, Aaron. Checking in to see if you have an update on Boris Bacon. Please give me a call when it’s convenient. Dev.”

It was too early to call Yucky. I went online and checked the price on the Mercedes GLE 63 S coupe that Boris ‘The Gerbil’ Bacon was driving. At no surprise, I was wrong. The car wasn’t eighty grand. It was listed at more than half again as much, in other words, a hundred and twenty-nine grand. Gee, imagine a guy who is moving from one place to another about every thirty or forty days is driving around town in a car that was that expensive. How did that happen? One more thing to try to figure out about the guy. I pulled out my cell phone and brought up the photo I had taken of the license plate in Yucky’s driveway last night. Then I called my pal, Dave McGovern, in the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles). It took five rings, but he eventually answered.

“DMV, McGovern speaking.”

“Hi, Dave, it’s Dev Haskell calling. How are things with you?”

“Hi, Dev. Lots to complain about, but it doesn’t do any good, so I’m just trying to make it to the next day. How are things on your end?”

“Pretty much the same, fine if you don’t go into any detail.”

“So, this call is more of the same?” Dave asked. “Some woman gave you the finger as you drove past, and you’re thinking she wants to meet you for dinner?”

“Not exactly. Checking on a license plate for a friend.”

“Let me have it, and we’ll see what’s up.”

I gave him the plate number, and he said, “I’m going to put you on hold for just a moment.” He was back in less than a minute. “Okay, that’s a red Toyota hatchback.”

“That sounds right.”

“It’s a 2022 model owned by a gentleman named Gaylon Bieber. Do you need a spelling for that name? Hello? Dev, are you there?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, Dave. Just pulling a file,” I lied. “You said that was a 2022 model owned by Gaylon Bieber.”

“You got it. Anything else?”

“Yeah, as long as you have that up, what’s the home address?”

“You know I shouldn’t give you that, Dev.”

“And you know that I can go online and look it up. I’m just hoping you can save me a couple of minutes.”

There was a pause, and I was about to say something when Dave said, “The house is on Osceola Avenue, the address is 997, and the zip code is 55105. Is there anything else you need?”

“Yeah,” I said as I wrote down the address. “When will we get together for dinner and a couple of drinks?”

He laughed and said, “Maybe in ten years. We’ve got three young ones at home right now. God, the things I could do with half the energy they have. I’ll tell you.”

“I hear you. Well, congratulations, once again, and thank you for the help.”

“Good hearing from you, Dev. All the best,” he said and disconnected.

I just sat there and stared for a long minute at Gaylon Bieber’s name and address. Was he having an affair with Yucky’s wife? This was not going to go well.

Twenty-Two

Idid an online search over the next hour and a half, looking for anything on Gaylon Bieber. Since he was with the DEA, there was virtually next to nothing about him online. There were thousands, no, make that millions, of things on Justin Bieber, apparently no relation, but nothing on Gaylon.

Louie returned to the office at 11:30. After five minutes of recovering at his picnic table, he asked, “So, how’s your day going so far?”

“Fine if you don’t go into detail. Did your court appearance have anything to do with the mother of your client who called you yesterday?”

Louie nodded and said, “Yeah, my client was, or rather is, the woman’s daughter. Thankfully, someone got in touch with the mother because she wasn’t in the courtroom. I had my fingers crossed during the entire proceeding hoping she never showed. I’m thinking we dodged a bullet.”

“Maybe her husband just tied her up and left her in the closet.”

“Well, if that’s the case, God bless him. If she had been there and got on her high horse again, there is no doubt that the daughter would be looking at a much larger fine and maybe even a night or two in jail. Since this was a first offense and the mother stayed away, my client received the usual driving restrictions, an average fine, and she has to attend AA meetings for six months. All of which is standard.”

“Lucky you.”

“And more importantly, lucky daughter. How’d your morning and last night go?”

“Well, no complaints. I’ve got two women staying at my place at the moment. Both of them worried about this Boris Bacon character. He’s a suspect in the murder of that woman yesterday.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that.”

“Hopefully, he’ll be in custody sooner rather than later. Happy to help out, but if I learned he was locked up, and both women headed back to their own places, that would be fine with me.”

Louie got a look on his face. “That doesn’t sound like you, Dev. Since when has two women staying at your home been a problem?”

“Oh, like I said, I’m happy to help out. But this is shaping up to be one of those times when I’m suddenly thinking, you know, it’s not all that bad living alone and doing whatever I want. Don’t get me wrong. They’re both very nice, but I like my quiet home where I don’t have to cook for someone, worry about them, and remind them that my doors lock automatically, so if they close behind you, you’re locked out. Anyway, I don’t mean to complain. It’s just been a good reminder, and they haven’t even been there twenty-four hours.”

“You’re not complaining, Dev. I get it. It’s one of the many reasons I’m the way I am. No one has ever asked to stay at my place and believe me, I’m just fine with that.”

“I think I’m—” A call coming through on my cellphone cut me off. I glanced at the screen. Aaron was returning my call. “Sorry, I need to take this, Louie.” I swiped my finger across the screen and said, “Hi, Aaron. Thanks for returning my call.”

“Sorry I’m just getting back to you, Dev. It’s been a busy morning. You asked me to call with any updates on the Marissa O’Brien murder.”

“Yeah, do you have something?”

“A couple of things, actually. DNA from under the victim’s fingernails was linked to Boris Bacon. That just came through about an hour ago. Because he has a couple of priors, his DNA is on file, and it came up almost immediately as a definite match.”

“Good news from the standpoint you know who is responsible. Any idea where he might be?”

“About all we know is he hasn’t returned to his unit at the Wilder building. There’s a BCA team going through that unit as we speak.”

“Don’t forget, I mentioned that the O’Brien woman spent the night there. I don’t know if there was any interaction beyond her filling him with drinks until he eventually passed out, but I’m pretty sure they’ll come across her fingerprints and DNA in that unit.”

“Any place come to mind where he might be?” Aaron asked.

“Not really. I’m pretty sure he won’t be with anyone associated with Tubby Gustafson. Would it be all right with you if I informed Tubby of this? I’d present it as a warning to him, and since he doesn’t seem to be a fan of Bacon, it just might increase the number of people keeping an eye out and reporting a sighting of Bacon to either Tubby or the police.”

“I think that’s a good idea. Yeah, go ahead and pass the information on to him.”

“I’ll do that. I also have some information on Bacon, I—”

“Oh, what kind of information?”

“I’ve got his license plate number. I followed him last night and—”

“Damn it, Dev. You followed him, and you didn’t think to report this?”

“This was late last night, Aaron, and I only just found out about him being a key suspect when you called me a moment ago. Had I known you had DNA on the guy and that he was a key suspect—”

“He’s the only damn suspect at this point.”

“Well, do you want the information, or are you going to read me the riot act? You’ve probably got the license plate number already.”

“Okay, look, I’m sorry. I get it, maybe. What do you have?”

I pulled the cheeseburger wrapper out of my back pocket and said, “Okay, here’s the plate number on the car he’s been driving a—”

“A black Mercedes GLE 63 S coupe?” Aaron asked.

“Yeah, you already have the license number?”

“We do.” I read the license number off to him anyway to demonstrate I was trying to help. “Yeah, that’s the number we’ve got.”

“Okay, here’s the other thing. I followed Bacon from the Wilder building to Snelling and then north on Snelling to Sherburne. It’s just a block off of Univer—”

“I know where it is, Dev.”

“Okay, yeah, of course you do. Anyway, he stops at the end of the block and enters this little two-story apartment building on the corner of Asbury and Sherburne. He’s in there for ten or fifteen minutes and then hurries back out carrying a briefcase. He gets in his car and takes off. By the time I got back to my car, he’s long gone, so I went home.”

“And what time was this?”

“Close to midnight. If I had to guess, I would say he may have been headed out to Mariani’s place. He was there about the same time two or three nights ago with the O’Brien woman.”

“Yeah, I remember you saying that. And he was in a two-story apartment building on Asbury?”

“Yeah, the thing is cream or yellow colored stucco, and next to the front door is a sign that says, ‘No loitering violators will be prosecuted.’”

“Okay, Dev, thanks, I mean it. Sorry if I was bitching, but we’re trying to nail this guy, and we can’t do that until we find him.”

“Not to worry, Aaron. I get it. Look, if I can help you in any way, give me a call.”

“Thanks,” he said and disconnected.

I set my phone down and placed the cheeseburger wrapper in a desk drawer.

“You okay?” Louie asked while still looking at his computer screen.”

“Yeah, no problem. Dipshit Boris Bacon is now the prime suspect in the Marissa O’Brien murder, and they can’t find him.”

“You said you saw him wheeling a suitcase out the door. You think he maybe got on a plane?”

I shook my head. “No, if he was going to do that, he would have headed to the airport and grabbed the first flight to anywhere. Instead, he went to a dumpy apartment building. I’m guessing he may have made a delivery to Mariani. Hell, he could have spent the night in the guy’s mansion and is keeping a low profile there for a week or so before he heads out of town. Or maybe one of Mariani’s guys drove him out of town. There’s no telling where he might be.”

“Or maybe they dumped him in the river,” Louie said.

“That’s the first positive option I’ve heard,” I said. I clipped the leash onto Morton and took him for an extra-long walk. When I got back to the office, there was a bag from the Burger Dive bar on my desk with a two-word note from Louie. ‘Stay Sane!’

I inhaled the cheeseburger in about two minutes and then decided it might be wise to pay a visit to Tubby Gustafson. There was no point in calling because he never answered calls from me. I left a note for Louie thanking him for the cheeseburger and saying I was at Tubby’s and hoped to be back in an hour. I tossed Morton a biscuit, locked the door, and drove over to Tubby’s mansion.

As I pulled in through his front gate and onto the circular drive, one of the thugs from the front stoop pointed toward the parking area. I pulled in next to what looked like a white Corvette.

Two guys, armed and muscular, opened the driver’s door for me and, not very politely, said, “Get your ass out here, Haskell, and assume the position. What the hell are you doing here? No one said anything about you showing up.”

I spread my legs and leaned against the roof of my car. “I’m here because I just got some information for Mr. Gustafson, and I figured he’d want to know it as soon as possible.”

“And just what kind of information would that be? A two-for-one night at some bar where you hang out?”

“I’m not sure I’d share that with anyone,” I said, and they both chuckled. “No, I got some info on someone he’s been interested in. Someone he’s not too fond of.”

One of them pulled out his cell phone and stepped away. I remained leaning against the roof of my car for a couple of minutes while he talked on the phone. Finally, he stepped back and said, “He’ll see you, but he’s only got a couple of minutes. Take him in, Benny.”

Benny, the larger of the two thugs, said, “Let’s go,” and I followed him into the mansion. Once in the entry, Benny focused in on the guy reading a comic book and said, “He’s here to see the boss. Pat him down and escort him to the office.”

The guy looked at Benny and said, “His Highness is in a personal meeting at the moment.”

“Yeah, I know. We just got off the phone with him, and he’s expecting Hassle, so check him out and get his ass down to the office.”

“Okay,” the guy said, setting his comic book on the bench. He patted me down in about fifteen seconds. “You’re okay. Let’s go,” he said, and I followed him across the large entry and down the hall to Tubby’s office. Just like Fat Freddy, he knocked on the door as he opened it, and called out, “Hassle to see you, sir.”

As I stepped inside, the thug closed the door behind me, and I approached. Tubby was stretched out on a black leather recliner with a bikini-clad woman sitting on either side of him. One was holding a bowl of what looked like green grapes, and she’d just placed one into Tubby’s mouth. The other woman was holding a crystal glass with what looked like a Baileys Chocolate Martini.

Tubby was barefoot and probably naked, although fortunately, he had a plush white bath towel draped over his massive midsection. I tried to focus on his face, or better yet, the two lovelies in the small bikinis rather than his disgusting body.

“What is it, Haskell? You’re coming close to interrupting. I don’t recall requesting your presence during my afternoon break.”

“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I’ve come across some information and wanted to make sure you were aware of it.”

“What sort of information?”

“This concerns Boris Bacon, who I believe has been a bit of a pain in your side, sir.”

“More like a pain-in-the-ass. So, what do you have?”

“Well, sir, he has just recently been listed as the prime suspect in the murder of a woman two days ago.”

Tubby waved a hand toward the woman with the bowl of grapes and then pushed a button on the recliner that slowly repositioned him in an upright posture. “Tell me more,” he said, holding his hand out for the chocolate martini glass. Once he had the glass, he took three healthy gulps.

“The woman murdered was named Marissa O’Brien. She’s the same woman who accompanied Bacon to the Mariani estate a few nights ago. The same woman who told him the following morning that she never wanted to hear from Bacon again. She was bludgeoned to death in her apartment, and Bacon’s DNA was found at the scene of the crime. In fact, it was found under the woman’s fingernails.”

Tubby’s smile turned into a grin. “Wonderful news,” he said.

“As far as I know, the police have no idea where he might be. Just before midnight, he was spotted leaving his condo building and pulling a suitcase behind him. I don’t know if he’s left town or is—”

“I’m sure he hasn’t left town. No doubt he’ll be trying to demonstrate to Mariani that this is a modest inconvenience rather than a real problem. Anything else?”

“No, sir, that’s the extent of my knowledge at this stage. If I learn anything else, I’ll let you know.”

“See that you do, Haskell. Very well, I should get back to my meeting. Let yourself out,” Tubby said, then pushed the button to return his chair to the reclining position. The woman with the grapes placed one in her mouth, then leaned over and ‘kissed’ the grape into Tubby’s mouth.

I hurried out of the room before he received a mouthful of the chocolate martini.

I’d never been on my own in the hallway outside of Tubby’s office, and for just a half-second, I wondered if I could make it up to the second floor and look around. I quickly decided that was a really dumb idea, and I hurried back down the hall, across the marble-floored entry, and out the front door.

“That didn’t take you very long,” the guy who had first patted me down said.

“He was otherwise involved.”

“Yeah, lucky man,” he replied.

I hurried over to my car, backed out of the parking spot, and followed the circular drive out of the mansion grounds. I parked in front of Louie’s dented, gray Ford Fiesta and headed into the office about ten minutes later.

Twenty-Three

Louie appeared to be going through a file as I entered the office. Morton glanced up and couldn’t be bothered, quickly returning to the bone he was gnawing on.

“How’d things go with Tubby?” Louie asked without looking up.

“The guy is living the life,” I said. “Anything happening here?”

“All quiet at the moment.”

I settled in at my desk and turned on my computer. It was almost noon. I debated calling Yucky when my cell phone rang. I checked the screen, and a phone number appeared, but there wasn’t a name, meaning it was either some potential online scam or maybe Yucky. “Haskell Investigations,” I answered.

“Hi, Dev, Yucky. Were you able to drive past my place last night?”

“Yes, I was. Let me pass on a couple of things to you. First off, I spotted Boris Bacon wheeling a suitcase out of his condo a little before midnight last night. I followed him, and he drove over to Sherburne Avenue and Asbury and—”

“Yeah, I know that apartment building. How long was he there?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes. He came out carrying a briefcase. Unfortunately, he pulled away, and by the time I got back in my car and backed up, he had disappeared, and I couldn’t follow him.”

“Not a problem. Bacon pulled into Mariani’s twenty or twenty-five minutes later.”

“Did he leave or spend the night?”

“He left about thirty minutes after that. I can’t believe Mariani would want him spending the night.”

“Any idea where he went?”

“We’re tracking his car. He seems to have settled into a unit downtown.” It wasn’t lost on me that Yucky didn’t name the building or provide an address. “Were you able to check out my place last night?”

“Yeah, I did, right after I lost sight of Bacon. There was a car there. I took a picture of the license plate and checked with the DMV this morning.”

“Let me guess, a red Toyota hatchback, registered to Gaylon Bieber, my pain-in-the-ass boss. Am I right? Are you there, Dev?”

“Yeah, you’re right, Yuck. I’m sorry. How in the hell did you know?”

“Oh, don’t worry, this isn’t a surprise. Well, let me rephrase that. It’s no surprise Alice screwing someone else. It’s the rare day she even says hello to me. The surprise is that it’s that pain-in-the-ass, Gaylon Bieber. I’m pretty sure she contacted him since she knows how much I hate the guy.”

“Do you think Bieber knows that you know?” I asked.

“Probably not. He wouldn’t be able to think that far ahead, and the guy is such a dreadful individual. I’m pretty sure Alice is just about the only woman who has ever shown an interest in him. Would you be able to make another drive past tonight?”

“I certainly will if you want me to.”

“Yeah, I would. I’ll tell you what. How about we meet for dinner tonight. You pick the place.”

“You sure you want to? I can—”

“Yes, I want to meet for dinner. Name the place.”

“Are you familiar with Axel’s out in Mendota?”

“That’s the town just across the river from St. Paul?”

“Yeah, take the 35E bridge across the river and the exit at the far end of the bridge. Take a right onto Highway 13, and it will take you into Mendota Township. Axel’s is on the left side of Highway 13, just across from the Mendota VFW. What time works for you?”

“Would 8:00 be too late for you? That will give me time to see Alice for a bit when she gets home, and then I can say I’ve got a review at 8:00.”

“Just keep your cool with Alice, Yuck, and we can go over some things at dinner. This isn’t the first time I’ve been through this with someone. I’m just awfully sorry it’s happening to you.”

“Thanks, Dev, I appreciate that. But I’ve seen this coming for at least a year, and that bastard Bieber isn’t the first dalliance she’s had. I want him to be the last, but we can go over that tonight. I’ll see you at Axel’s.”

“See you there, Yuck. Hang in there,” I said, and we disconnected.

Louie didn’t say anything, although I was sure he hadn’t missed a word. I went online and looked up a couple of things that might come in handy for Yucky, namely a tracking device for his wife’s car and a hidden camera for the bedroom.

Just before 5:00, Louie shut down his desktop computer and asked, “Are you thinking about going over to The Spot?”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I have to make a phone call first and take Morton on our walk. We’ll meet you over there.”

“I’ll order you a beer,” he said as he locked his file cabinet and headed out the door. I watched him out the window as he crossed the street and headed into The Spot. Once he stepped inside, I hit the speed dial for Julie Rollins.

“Hi, Dev, everything going okay?” she answered.

“Hi, Julie, yeah, it is. How did things go for you two?”

“Oh, pretty laid-back,” she said and chuckled. I wondered if Lily was nearby and heard that comment. “Will you be home for dinner? We could get something going.”

“Wish I could, but I’m going to be working tonight. I’ll be home to change in a bit, but go ahead and make dinner for yourselves. There are chicken breasts, pork steaks, and red peppers in the fridge, and I think there might be a bottle or two of wine left. There’s a wine store just up the block called Solo Vino. The owner’s name is Chuck. Tell him you’re staying at my place, and he’ll give you ten percent off. There are restaurants just a block away to the left or right, so whatever you want, no pressure from me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Lily, and we’ll take care of ourselves.”

“Okay, sorry I can’t join you,” I said, and we disconnected.

Morton and I went for our walk and, fifteen minutes later, stepped into The Spot. I signaled Mike, the bartender, for a beer and a fresh drink for Louie as Morton pulled me down to the far end of the bar.

Louie was waiting with a handful of pork rinds as we rounded the bar, and he and Morton went through their routine. Mike delivered a beer for me and a fresh drink for Louie. We chatted about everything and nothing for the next half hour. Thankfully, Louie never asked what was up with Yucky. I pulled into my driveway just after 6:00 and headed inside. Lily and Julie were seated at the kitchen counter, having a glass of wine. The bottle next to them was not one I bought, so they, or at least one of them, had been shopping. A platter with what looked like half a salmon was on the counter next to the stove.

“How are things going, ladies?”

They both smiled and raised their glasses.

“How was your day, Dev?” Lily asked.

“The usual craziness. I’m sorry I can’t join you for dinner, but I’m meeting a guy at 8:00 and then working until at least a little after midnight.”

“Do you have a minute to sit with us and chat?” Julie asked.

“Yeah, sure, let me just fill Morton’s food dish, and I—”

“I can do that,” Lily said. “We want to go over something with you.”

“What’s that?”

“Please follow instructions, Dev, and take a seat,” Julie said, pointing at a stool.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said as I settled onto a kitchen stool.

“Thank you,” Julie said. “Now, we wanted to discuss with you how things ended up last night.”

“Why? What happened? I was out for a couple of hours, and I—”

“Not that, exactly. But we seem to have ended up in the same bed after all the wine we drank,” Julie said.

“Yeah, not a problem as far as I’m concerned.”

“Well, it turned out to be a little more, or maybe a lot more, than we expected,” Lily said.

“I’m not quite following,” I said.

“We’d like to continue sharing the bed if that’s okay with you,” Julie said.

“And if it’s not, we could move to a hotel, at least until this Boris Bacon situation is over if you’d be more comfortable with that,” Lily added.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I get what you’re telling me. Sorry to disappoint, but it’s not an issue,” I said. “As long as the two of you are happy and safe, stay here until you’re ready to head home. Hopefully, the police will be able to locate Boris Bacon sooner rather than later, and we can get on with our lives.”

“So you’re okay if we steal your bed?” Julie asked.

“Yeah, I want you both to be safe, comfortable, and happy.”

They both leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

“Oh, wow. Two women at the same time. That’s the first time this year,” I said.

They both drew back with horrified looks.

“Just kidding,” I said.

We talked some more, and I gave them the update, as far as I knew, regarding Boris Bacon. I told them about interacting with Yucky but didn’t mention his wife, Alice, or anything to do with that apparent difficulty. Eventually, I headed upstairs, showered, and changed into a different pair of jeans and a green and red sports shirt advertising the Minnesota Wild, our National Hockey League team.

When I came downstairs, the ladies were starting their dinner. I gave Morton and Princess head scratches and rubs and went out to my car. I took 35E across the Mississippi River and drove into the town of Mendota. I parked next to the VFW and crossed the street to Axel’s restaurant. I checked the parking lot but didn’t see anything resembling Yucky’s dark-blue Toyota Corolla, so I headed into the restaurant.

I got a booth toward the back of the restaurant, and Yucky joined me a few minutes later. At 8:00, people were finishing up and slowly leaving. I ordered a steak with garlic mashed potatoes, green beans, and a popover. Yucky ordered a cheeseburger and onion rings.

We talked about Boris Bacon until dinner arrived, but there was nothing new, and any future thoughts were merely conjecture. We both dug in and after about two bites, Yuck said, “Let me fill you in on my plans with Alice.”

“Okay, let me just caution you and say, please don’t tell me anything that could be viewed as illegal.”

He gave me a look and said, “Are you nuts? I’m not going to do anything illegal. I am going to document the interaction between the two of them. I’ve installed a security recording device in the bedroom ceiling. That will serve me with my divorce proceeding and my dealing with Bieber. I’ll continue in the DEA for the time being, but he’s about to end his pain-in-the-ass attitude with me, or I’ll make sure his ass is fired, and he loses all his pension benefits.”

“As long as there’s nothing illegal, I’d be happy to help.”

“Right now, I’d like to keep doing what’s required of me, working the graveyard shift and allowing Bieber to visit Alice. If you could document his vehicle at my place, take a photo, and get a time and date, that would help.”

“I can do that. It would be nice to have a way to back up the times and dates.”

“Not to worry. I have a tracking device on his car that provides a twenty-four-hour report. He’s been there virtually every night since he stuck me on the graveyard shift. Before he arrives, he makes sure I’m watching the Mariani estate. Once he confirms that, he visits Alice and leaves after an hour or two.”

“I’m sorry you’re going through this, Yuck.”

“Thanks, Dev. But don’t worry. I want this documented, and then I intend to hold him to the fire. As for Alice, she’ll be able to go her own way, and I don’t intend to be paying any support. I’m just glad we don’t have kids. I couldn’t bear to put them through this.”

“I’ll take a picture tonight and every night after this until you give me the word.”

“Can’t thank you enough, Dev. I really appreciate it.”

“You just hang in there. If you have any problems or you start thinking about the dark side, get in touch. Oh, and let’s plan on meeting for dinner every few nights—just to keep both of us up to date.”

Yucky extended his arm across the table. We shook hands, and he said, “Oh, by the way, I’m paying for dinner tonight, and you are not allowed to argue.”

“Okay, you got it. At least this time.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, and once he paid the bill, we headed out the door. I went home for a couple of hours and had a pleasant conversation with Julie and Lily. They went up to bed around 10:30. I got things ready for breakfast, checked in on Morton and Princess, and then caught some news on YouTube until midnight when I drove over to Yucky’s house.

Sure enough, the red Toyota Hatchback was in the driveway. The light was on in a room on the second floor, and I wondered if that might be the master bedroom. I parked a couple of doors away, walked back, took two pictures of Bieber’s car, and headed home. I crawled into bed in the guest room again and was asleep in about sixty seconds.

Twenty-Four

At no surprise, I was up the next morning before the ladies, Morton, and Princess. I showered, shaved, and dressed in the same jeans and another sports shirt. This one advertised Summit Beer. I’d been on my laptop for over an hour and had two cups of coffee and a couple slices of cinnamon toast from a loaf the ladies had bought. I heard the shower come on, and shortly after that, Morton wandered over for his head scratch before being let outside.

Princess was stretching on the kitchen table when Lily and Julie entered the kitchen. My first thought was that maybe they showered together, but I didn’t ask.

“Good morning, ladies. I helped myself to a couple slices of cinnamon bread. Would you like some French cinnamon toast?”

“That would be wonderful,” Lily said. “Would you like me to make it?”

“I’m happy to do it. Grab a coffee and relax. How’d you two sleep last night?”

“Very well, eventually,” Julie said, and they both laughed. Lily filled their mugs and topped up mine as I started in on the French toast. I got the ladies served with three pieces each and then made two more for myself. As we ate, I mentioned that I would be working a case around midnight, just taking a picture of a site that would probably have me out for thirty or forty minutes.

“Do you do this sort of thing often?” Lily asked.

“No, this is the first time for something like this, although I’ve done a lot of late-night work over the years. It’s just part of the business.”

They offered to clean the kitchen, and I accepted. After a three-minute rub for Princess, Morton and I headed down to the office. Louie pulled in behind my car just after 9:00. I turned on my computer and returned my binoculars to the desk drawer as he got out of his car. I had a coffee waiting for him on the picnic table, and while he was recovering from climbing the stairs, I phoned my sometimes friend with benefits, Heidi.

“Oh, goodness, dumped again, so you decided to give me a call?” was how she answered.

“That would suggest I’d found someone patient enough to put up with me in the first place,” I said, which earned me a laugh. “I’m calling to see if you could set up a file for me to post pictures in,” I said, and then told her about the pictures I would be taking without mentioning Yucky, Alice, or Gaylon Bieber.

“So what you want is to post a photo every day with a date and time, right?”

“Yeah, that would be perfect.”

“I can set that up for you in about fifteen minutes and send it your way—one thing I would recommend. You want the date and time of the image to be when you took the picture, not when you posted it. I’ll add a line that will automatically list when you took the picture. That way, you could add the image the following morning, and it would still say 12:15 a.m. on whatever the date was. Okay?”

“That would be perfect. What do I owe you?”

“Dinner, drinks, and a night to remember.”

“I can do that.”

“Good, now you said you already have a couple of images?”

“Yeah, just two. Last night and the night before.”

“Send those to me, and I’ll install them and set things up so even a Neanderthal like you, Dev, can add them to the site. One more thing, each time you add an image, make a duplicate copy. The message will come through as copy two. Delete the number two, and it will save itself as the current copy, deleting your previous copy. Okay?”

“Yeah, at least I think so.”

“Any problems and I’m here to help.”

“Thank you,” I said, hung up, and sent both images of Gaylon Bieber’s car parked outside Yucky’s house.

My computer signaled an email from Heidi twenty-five minutes later. I opened the email and clicked on the file. It came up on the screen labeled ‘Daily Images.’ I sent it to my downloads file and then opened the file. Following Heidi’s suggestion, I made a duplicate copy.

Louie left for the courthouse just before 11:00, and I took Morton on a walk. When we returned to the office, I had just tossed him a biscuit when my cell phone rang, Aaron LaZelle.

“Hi, Aaron. What’s up?”

“Unfortunately, not much. Boris Bacon appears to be missing in action.”

“Do you mean someone killed him?”

“No, he’s literally missing. We haven’t seen hide nor hair of him, and it’s not for lack of trying.”

I immediately remembered Yucky’s comment about Bacon in a downtown unit. “Do you think he might be keeping a low profile at Mariani’s place?”

“Actually, no. Our information suggests they’ve already had a falling out and Mariani told him to hit the road.”

“Any idea what caused that?”

“Rumors are Bacon was holding on to funds that were supposed to go to Mariani. At this stage, that’s just the rumor, but it would make sense, given what we know of Bacon’s history.”

“Do you think he might have left town?”

“That would probably be the smart thing to do, which almost certainly means that he’s still around, somewhere.”

“No sign of him at the Wilder building?”

“No, and we’ve got the place wired with a couple of security cameras. So we’re sure Bacon hasn’t been there.”

“You know, I’ve got two women staying at my place. One was across the hall from Bacon’s unit in the Wilder building, but the other one had a short-term affair with Bacon that, not surprisingly, didn’t end well. She’s at my place because she was afraid he might show up at her house. Would you mind if I mentioned this to her and got you access to the place, maybe a set of keys, or she could meet someone there to check it out?”

“That’s not a bad idea. Yeah, can you get in touch with her now?”

“I’ll give her a call. If I can’t get the key’s I’ll call you.”

“Thanks, Dev. The sooner I hear back from you, the better.”

We disconnected, and I phoned Julie. “Checking up on us, Dev?”

“Hi, Julie, no. I just got off the phone with a friend in the police department. They’re having trouble finding Boris Bacon, and they’d like to check out your house to make sure he isn’t currently there or hasn’t been there. Would you mind if I got your keys from you and they made sure your house is okay?”

“Oh, Dev, that would be so nice of them to do. No, I don’t have a problem with that at all. When would they be able to do this?”

“Almost immediately. I’ll drive over and get your keys now and pass them on to the police.”

“I’ll be waiting for you,” she said.

“Are you going to be here for a bit, Louie?”

“I’m here for the rest of the day. Take off and don’t worry about the time. If we’re not here when you get back, Morton and I are over at The Spot.”

“Now there’s a surprise.” I tossed Morton a biscuit and headed out to my car. Ten minutes later, I pulled into my driveway.

Julie met me on the back porch. “Here are the keys, Dev,” she said as she handed them to me and gave me a Post-it note. “This is the code for the keypad. The alarm should be on. If it’s not, then there’s a good chance that bozo Bacon got in there and somehow turned it off.”

“I’ll give you a call if we find anything.” I got back in my car, backed out onto Selby Avenue, and headed toward downtown and West Seventh Street. I turned onto Lafayette Road and drove a block to the police department parking lot. I pulled into the parking lot across the street from the station. Hurrying inside, I headed for the reception counter, where three uniformed officers were stationed.

The sergeant behind the counter gave me a nod. “LaZelle called a couple of minutes ago and said you might be on your way. Let me give him a yell,” he said and pointed toward the lobby area filled with black plastic chairs. Maybe ten people were scattered throughout the area, none of them interacting with anyone.

About three minutes later, the security door opened, and a uniformed female officer called out my name. I hurried over. She glanced at the sergeant behind the counter, and he nodded.

“Hi, I’m Dev Haskell,” I said.

“Nice to meet you,” she replied but didn’t offer a hand or her name. I followed her down the hall to the elevators just as one of them dinged, and a white light above the door came on. Two men stepped out of the elevator, and I followed the officer in. We rode up to the third floor in silence, stepped off, and made our way to the Homicide Department. The officer input a code on the keypad, and the door buzzed open.

“Lieutenant LaZelle’s office is at the end of the room on the left,” she said, nodding toward Aaron’s office as if I’d never been there before.

“Thanks, it was nice talking to you,” I replied and headed toward Aaron’s office. As I approached, I waved to Detective Sergeant Norris Manning, seated at his desk. He waved back and came over. We shook hands, and I could only hope that caught the attention of the officer who escorted me up from the lobby. Manning followed me into Aaron’s office.

As we walked inside, Aaron looked up and said, “You weren’t kidding when you said you’d get back to me. I just didn’t expect it to be in person.”

“Anything to help. Are you going to go over to Julie’s place?”

“No, I’ll go,” Manning said. “We’ll send a patrol car over there to wait for us.”

I handed Manning the keys and the Post-it note with the alarm code. “She said the alarm was set, and she doesn’t think anyone has been there. She didn’t mention any contact from the alarm company.”

“It would still be nice to check, if only to make our presence known to anyone thinking about the place.”

“Would it be alright if I went with you?”

Manning glanced over at Aaron, who nodded. “Okay, not a problem. Give me a moment to shut down my computer and call a squad car.”

“You have her address?” I asked.

“Is she still down in Irvine Park?”

“Yeah, she lives in a side-by-side duplex that was built about a hundred years ago.”

“So it’s one of the newer places down there,” Manning said, and we all laughed. I briefly chatted with Aaron while Manning made the call at his desk. Aaron didn’t have any updates on Bacon other than they still hadn’t had a recent sighting of the guy. I didn’t mention Yucky’s comment about the DEA tracking device in Bacon’s car or that they suspected he was staying in a unit downtown.

Five minutes later, I followed Manning to his car in the secure parking lot. He had pulled on a protective vest with a radio attached, and his pistol was mounted on his hip. Julie’s place in Irvine Park was on the other side of downtown. It was at most a ten-minute drive over there, and that was if we had to stop at all the traffic lights. We pulled in front of the place just as a squad car appeared coming from the opposite direction. The driveways on either side of the structure were empty. We exited Manning’s car and walked over to the squad car that had just pulled into the driveway.

“How’s it going, Sarge?” the officer behind the wheel said as he climbed out of the squad car.

“Never enough time in any day,” Manning replied. “This is Dev Haskell, a P.I. He provided the house keys and the code to the alarm system. The two of us are going to enter through the front door. Why don’t you guys check the back door and make sure that it’s locked before we enter from the front? If everything looks okay, we’ll go in the front, turn off the alarm, and open the back door for you. We’re looking for Boris Bacon, a suspect in the Marissa O’Brien murder. We’ve no reports of him being here, but this Bacon caused some problems with the owner, who filed a restraining order on him a while back. She’s elsewhere until we arrest him.”

The two officers headed to the back of the house. A minute later, Manning received a radio response that they were in position, and we headed toward the front door.

The oak door appeared to be original to the frame structure. Manning tried the worn brass doorknob, and it was still locked. He inserted the key in the lock, turned it, gave me a look, and then opened the door with his left hand. His right hand was resting on his pistol.

We stepped inside as the alarm system let off a soft-pitched beeping sound. Manning stepped over to the keypad on the wall, entered the four-digit code, and the alarm gave off a two-second sound and then went silent.

“On our way to you,” Manning said into the microphone attached to his shoulder. We headed through the living room and dining area and into the kitchen. As we walked into the kitchen, everything appeared to be in order. Manning opened the back door, and the two officers stepped inside.

“Everything looks fine out back, except the grass could use a cut,” one of the officers said.

“Check the bathroom to see if someone might have taken a shower,” Manning said. “How long has she been at your place?”

“She arrived around dinner time two nights ago, so today would be day three,” I said.

The officer who checked the bathroom stepped back into the kitchen two minutes later. “No sign of any use. The bath towel on the bar is dry, as well as the washcloth hanging in the shower. Women’s makeup is placed around the bathroom sink. The toilet seat is down.”

“Okay, maybe look in the bedroom. See if anything stands out.”

“I did that, Sarge. The bed is made neatly, and a woman’s robe is nicely folded on the bed.”

“Sound good to you, Haskell?”

“Yeah, I guess it’s good news. I was hoping we might have found the bastard passed out on the couch after drinking a bottle of cheap liquor.”

“Nah, I don’t think he’s like you,” Manning joked, and we all laughed.

We checked the basement, found nothing, and returned to the station. Manning dropped me off alongside the parking lot where my car was.

“Appreciate your help, Haskell. Sorry things didn’t turn out better.”

“Thanks for checking anyway. My friend will be happy. Hey, I’ll need those house keys back.”

“Oh, glad you said something.” Manning gave me the keys, nodded, and drove into the secure parking lot.

Twenty-Five

Iphoned Julie once I was back in my car. I told her the place appeared secure and untouched by the likes of Boris ‘The Gerbil’ Bacon. She said she didn’t need the keys and that I could hang on to them until this evening, so I drove back to the office. Louie was still at his desk. Morton hopped off his pillow and waved his head back and forth as I reached for his leash.

“Everything go okay?” Louie asked.

“Yeah, no sign of Bacon, which is good since it means he didn’t break into Julie’s place. I’ll take my friend here for a walk and be back in fifteen or twenty minutes.”

We headed out the door and took our usual route. Morton took his time exploring, but we eventually returned to the office. I half expected a call from Fat Freddy or even Tubby wanting an update on Bacon, but fortunately, I didn’t hear from either of them. We joined Louie in The Spot for a beer and pork rinds, and then we headed home. Lily was at the stove, and Julie was seated at the kitchen counter as we stepped into the kitchen.

“Oh, it smells delicious,” I said as I picked up on the wonderful scent.

“A special taco recipe I have. Hope you’ll like it,” Lily said.

“I can’t wait. What’s not to like?” I said as I stepped over to Julie and handed her the house keys.

“Thank you for getting the police to check my place out. I’m so glad everything was okay.”

“Yeah, he seems to have disappeared. He might be hiding. Apparently, the criminal he was dealing with got tired of him, or they had an argument. Anyway, he’s disappeared, at least for the moment.”

“Could he have left town?” Julie asked, sounding hopeful.

“The couple of people I talked to think he’s still around somewhere. The smart move would be to leave town, which makes them pretty sure he hasn’t done that.”

“Unfortunately, I’d have to agree.”

We had a delicious meal of soft-shell tacos and sea-salt caramel frozen yogurt for dessert. The ladies insisted that I leave the kitchen so they could clean up. I went and settled in front of the TV. After five minutes of listening to the depressing news, I took Morton for a walk through the neighborhood. I phoned Yucky once we were back, and we chatted for all of two minutes. I mentioned going through Julie’s house to him, hoping he might drop a hint about where Bacon might be hiding, but he didn’t say anything.

The ladies poured two glasses of wine around 10:30 and headed upstairs to the bedroom. I got Morton and Princess settled in for the night and drove back past Julie’s house just to double-check. Everything looked fine, and it was approaching midnight. I headed over to Yucky’s house and took another picture of Gaylon Bieber’s car parked in the driveway.

I wasn’t the least bit tired, so I parked down the street and watched and waited. At twenty minutes before three, the front porch light on Yucky’s house suddenly came on, and a moment later, Gaylon Bieber stepped out of the house and climbed into his car. I was too far away to take a picture with my phone. I ducked down as he approached and drove past. I thought about following, but for what purpose? Plus, at this hour, the traffic would be so light that he would probably be able to spot me following, and that could curtail his nightly visits.

Instead, I waited a few more minutes and then drove home. I quietly entered through the kitchen door. Morton didn’t so much as move, and I tiptoed out of the kitchen and went upstairs. I heard deep-sleep breathing coming from my bedroom and closed the guest room door once I was inside. I climbed into bed and was out like a light.

The ladies’ conversation the following morning woke me. I checked the time on my phone, and it was a quarter after eight. I waited another ten minutes until the conversation drifted downstairs. Then, I availed myself of the bathroom and was downstairs in reasonably clean clothes thirty minutes later. The ladies were enjoying cinnamon toast and scrambled eggs, and Morton was pacing back and forth in front of the back door.

“Good morning, ladies,” I said as I let Morton into the backyard. I noticed that the food and water dishes for Morton and Princess had been filled.

“What time did you get home?” Lily asked. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Early this morning. I think around 3:00. Everything go okay here last night?”

“Everything was fine,” Julie said and shot a quick smile at Lily that I wasn’t supposed to see.

I poured myself a mug of coffee, and Julie said, “Oh, here, Dev. Sit down and let me scramble up some eggs for you.”

“Oh, I can do that. You don’t have to—”

“Nonsense, we’re both on vacation, compliments of you, so the least I can do is make you breakfast. Take a seat and enjoy your coffee. One or two pieces of toast?”

“Two, please,” I said as I pulled out a kitchen stool and settled in. Princess let off a ‘meow’ from the far kitchen counter.

“Oh, forgive me, darling. I forgot to pay attention to you for the past ten minutes,” Julie said as she stepped over and petted Princess.

“Thanks for feeding these two. I was afraid I’d wake them when I came in last night, so I didn’t set their food out or set up the coffee pot.”

“This might come as a surprise, Dev, but we were able to figure things out,” Lily said, and both women laughed as Lily let Morton back in from outside.

I sipped coffee, ate a lovely breakfast, and chatted with the two of them for a good twenty minutes. “Well, as wonderful as this has been, let me get out of your hair. Morton and I will head to work, and with any luck, we’ll see you both tonight.”

“See you when we see you,” Julie said. “Would a 6:30 dinner be okay with you?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“We’re in charge, so we don’t want you to get anything. Have a nice, quiet day at the office, and we’ll see you tonight,” Lily said.

Morton and I drove down to the office. I pulled in behind Louie’s faded gray Fiesta, and we headed upstairs.

Louie was at his desk going over files. The coffee pot was on and still half full.

“Everything okay with you?” Louie asked.

“Oh, yeah, great as a matter of fact. Just a late night working, and then, my guests cooked me breakfast this morning, and they’re going to do dinner tonight.”

“Sounds as though that situation might be working out to your advantage.”

“Well, it certainly is at the moment. Still, I’m sure they’re both hoping to get back to their places sooner rather than later, and as kind as they are, I’d like to get my house back eventually.”

“Any news on Bacon?”

“No, in fact, I’m going to give Yucky a call after the noon hour and ask him again. He seems to be a little more in touch with the situation than the police, but then they’ve got a million things to deal with, and Yucky just sits in his car every night and takes notes on things.”

Louie shook his head. “I can’t imagine doing that day in and day out.”

“I know what you mean. There’s a part of me that’s a little surprised Yucky’s hung in there as long as he has, not to mention the fact that the guy in charge is a real jerk.”

Louie left the office just before 11:00. I uploaded last night’s photo of Bieber’s car onto the site Heidi set up for me. I took a pass on lunch after my late breakfast. I took Morton for a walk and then placed a call on my burner phone to Yucky a little after 2:30 and left a message. He called me back fifteen minutes later.

“Hi, Dev. How’s your day shaping up?”

“Going okay. I hope my earlier call didn’t wake you.”

“No, I’d been up for at least an hour. Did you get another photo last night?”

“Yeah, I did. A friend of mine set up a site for me to upload the pictures, and it will automatically list the date and time each picture was taken.”

“Oh, that will be great. I really appreciate what you’ve done for me, Dev.”

“Glad to help. I took the photo last night and then just hung around to see how long Bieber was there. He left at 2:40 this morning. I was tempted to follow him but decided it wasn’t worth the risk of having him spot me. So I didn’t.”

“Good. If Bieber spotted you, there’s no telling what he might do.”

“How are things going with Bacon? Has he shown up at Mariani’s lately?”

“No, he hasn’t, and I don’t know this definitely, but I would think since they supposedly had a falling out that he’s trying to line something up with someone else. Maybe your pal Gustafson.”

“Well, he might be trying to line something up with Tubby, but just from the little I heard from Tubby, he wouldn’t be very interested in dealing with Bacon. He views him as a potential threat, and I can’t see him doing anything to help the guy. In fact, I think he’d do just the opposite. I think Tubby and Mariani have their territories defined. They’re not enemies. They both realize getting the other guy pissed off at you wouldn’t do anything to improve business and could possibly do a lot to harm things. That may have something to do with Bacon suddenly keeping an extra low profile. He may have done something to Mariani and found out the hard way Tubby doesn’t want anything to do with him. You said he had moved to somewhere downtown?” I asked, hoping to get some information.

“I might have mentioned it. We haven’t seen any indication Bacon has returned to that unit in the Wilder building.”

“Where is he staying in downtown? I could keep an eye out for him. Another pair of eyes might be just the thing you need.”

“Thanks, Dev. But I’m not at liberty to say anything regarding that. I hope you understand.”

“I guess I do. It’s just that the police have lost all track of Bacon, and they’re looking for him. You know, there’s a ninety-nine percent chance that he killed the O’Brien woman a couple of nights ago. Why can’t they get any information from you guys?”

“Unfortunately, that’s something they’ll have to take up with Bieber. If I passed on any information, I’d probably be looking at jail time. I’m sure they’re in touch with Bieber, and in short order, things will hopefully work out.”

“Well, okay, if you say so. I hope you’re right. Hey, I’ll be taking another photo of Bieber’s car tonight. You still spending your nights outside of the Mariani estate?”

“Yeah, lucky me,” he said and laughed. “Take care, Dev. If there are any changes, let me know, and thanks again for all you’ve done.”

“Stay in touch, Yuck.” I waited a moment. “Hello. Hello, Yucky, are you still there?” No response, so he’d already disconnected. I suddenly felt Yucky might not be as open with passing on information as I had hoped. But the last thing I wanted to do was shut down our interaction. The guy had a full plate he was dealing with, and that didn’t even begin to cover the disaster that was happening in his personal life. It was best to stick to taking pictures of Bieber’s car every night, and hopefully, things would end up working out for the best.

Twenty-Six

At the end of the day, I took Morton on a walk, and then we headed to The Spot. Louie was seated on his stool, and as usual, Morton made a beeline down the bar to get to Louie and the pork rinds. I ordered a fresh drink for Louie and passed on drinking a beer.

“No beer tonight? Are you feeling okay?” Louie asked.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve just got a late job for thirty or forty minutes after midnight, and I’m afraid if I have a beer, I’ll be fighting to stay awake. Not that I wouldn’t love a couple of cold ones. Oh, and get this, my guests are cooking dinner this evening. We have to be home no later than 6:30 so I can be waited on.”

“Nice of them to do that, and nice of you to give them a safe place to stay.”

“Yeah, honestly, they haven’t been a problem, and now they’re cooking and doing some cleaning, so it’s worked out. But I’m looking forward to them eventually heading home, and I’m sure they are, too.”

“Yeah, I hear you. I think the saying goes something like, ‘Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.”

“That sounds about right. Anyway, I’m getting dinner again tonight. They made dinner last night and breakfast this morning. No complaints.”

We chatted for a bit, and then Morton and I headed home. I left Morton in the backyard and stepped inside to the beautiful smell of whatever was cooking in the frying pans and the pot on the stove.

“Oh, you’re home a little early,” Julie said.

“I didn’t want to miss anything. It smells delicious.”

“Well, I think you’re going to love it. Pork steak, roasted peppers, boiled potatoes, and Lily’s done a wonderful salad with spinach and lettuce.”

“Fantastic, I’m suddenly living in a restaurant.”

“Glad you like it. You can go upstairs and get cleaned up. I think Lily’s up there somewhere, then come down for dinner. Do you have to be anywhere tonight?”

“Not until later, so you two will have the pleasure of my company.”

“Perfect, go on now, and I’ll serve everything up as soon as you return.”

As I approached the stairs, Lily was coming down. “Oh, hi, Dev. We should be ready for dinner in just a minute.”

“Yeah, I’ve been instructed to go upstairs and get cleaned up, so I’m following directions. Did your day go okay?”

Lily nodded. “Oh yeah, slight problem with a client, but we got that ironed out through a couple of emails. How was your day?”

“Good, always good,” I said and headed upstairs. I went into the bathroom, washed my face and hands, pulled on a different shirt, and headed back downstairs.

Lily had set three places on the kitchen counter with a salad plate at each place. She had just finished filling three wine glasses. Since she’d already filled a glass for me, I figured one glass of wine wouldn’t do any harm. We chatted through a delicious dinner and a dessert of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. For the first time in quite a while, I felt myself relax. I stopped worrying about Boris Bacon, Gaylon Bieber, and Yucky’s unfortunate situation and enjoyed the lovely company of my two guests.

At some point, I had a second glass of wine and, apparently, a third. I dozed off as the three of us watched TV and woke up just as the ladies were heading to bed. I let Morton out, petted Princess, and got her ready for bed. Then, I arranged place settings for breakfast. I prepared the coffee for the morning, unloaded the dishwasher, and let Morton in. Everything appeared in order, so I climbed into my car, shoved my nine-millimeter in my belt, and headed for Yucky’s house. It was just after midnight.

I’d been parked down the street for an hour after taking a picture of Bieber’s car, waiting to see what time he left, when my phone rang. The call was listed as Yucky, and I answered immediately. “Yuck, is everything okay?”

“I’ve got a feeling something’s going down. Bacon’s been in there for almost an hour. I can’t believe they’re talking nicely to one another.”

“Do you have people on the way?” I asked, then waited for a long moment. “Yuck, are you there?”

“I haven’t contacted anyone yet. I don’t need to get reamed out by Bieber for getting everyone out here, and nothing happens.”

“Why don’t you call the cops?”

“I might be wasting their time, too. I don’t want to get them—”

“Yucky, just the fact that the department’s number one murder suspect is there means they could go in and grab the guy. Hell, Mariani would probably be glad to see him arrested.”

“I’m not comfortable doing that at the moment. Would you mind coming over here? I’m not planning we go in there, but if you wouldn’t mind, I could—”

“This is the mansion that overlooks the river, right?” I asked, remembering Marissa O’Brien’s description of the place after she had gone there with Bacon.

“Yeah, that’s the place. I’m parked in the driveway of a mansion across the street with a For Sale sign in front. The place is unoccupied, and it’s got a two-story double garage that I think was originally a stable. You can pull in next to me.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes.” I pulled back onto the street, drove past Yucky’s house, where all the lights still appeared to be off, and headed toward the Mariani estate. After waiting for several traffic lights, it took me closer to twenty minutes.

Yucky had parked in the double driveway. The two-story garage was just as he had described it. The For Sale sign was in front of a three-story red stone mansion with a cedar shake roof and black trim. The mansion looked like it had been built in the 1890s. The garage was surrounded by an untrimmed hedge and was directly across from the entrance to the Mariani estate. At the moment, one of the double wrought iron gates to Mariani’s was open, and I recalled Marissa describing how Bacon had inputted a code to open the gates.

Yucky’s Toyota Corolla was backed in against one of the double garage doors. I backed into the driveway. As I parked, he gave me a wave to join him. I hurried over to the passenger side and climbed in. As soon as I was in, he locked the car doors again.

“Thanks for joining me, Dev. As you know, it can get pretty boring sitting here for hours on end and nothing happening.”

“Nothing happening can also mean it’s the perfect assignment.”

“Yeah, I suppose, but I’ve been here enough, and along with Alice’s extracurricular activity and that idiot Bieber, let me just suggest it’s getting harder and harder to sit still.”

“Well, fortunately, at the moment, you have the pleasure of one of the more boring guys in town sitting next to you. So, after an hour or two of having to listen to me, it’ll help make your normal nights look that much better.”

He laughed and said, “Set your sights higher, Dev.”

“So, what do you know about this place? It looks like it could be a hundred and fifty years old.”

“Almost that old, it was built by a family who had a brewery. Not a surprise they were making money. I forget who lived here until recently, but he was involved in some financial scam, and the feds nailed him. The place was taken for back taxes, and the mortgage company is selling it for a million five. I’ve been here every night and never picked up on anything that looked like they were working on the place. The nice thing about the hedge is I can see anyone coming and going, and with the lights on above Mariani’s gate, we have a camera planted in the hedge that records any license plate numbers.”

“Has anyone from Mariani’s ever come over to check you out?”

He shook his head and said, “I’m not sure they’ve even seen my car.”

“Have you been in over there?”

“Mariani’s? No, never, but I’ve studied several images. We’ve got a ten-minute film taken by a drone a month or two ago. There’s the mansion and a separate building that serves as servants’ quarters. A four-car garage and then off to the side a building that houses a swimming pool and Mariani’s office.”

“I noticed the gate is open. What’s with that?”

“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons I called. Bacon input the code and drove in. He didn’t press the button on the other side to close the gate. I don’t know if that was intentional or if he just forgot.”

“Have you ever seen that before?”

Yucky shook his head. “No, never.”

“What do you know about the guy?”

“Mariani? He’s a version of your pal, Tubby Gustafson. He has his fingers in several different enterprises. He has a couple of car dealerships and a construction firm that builds apartment buildings, and as far as we know, those operations appear to be above board. They’re operated by his two sons, who interestingly changed their surname to their mother’s maybe twenty years ago.”

“So he’s married?”

“He was. The wife died from cancer about ten years ago. Up until that time, they lived together and had what you’d call an amicable relationship. After she passed away, he began to dabble in the drug trade, gambling, and women. He doesn’t seem to partake in any of those businesses other than collect the profits. That’s why his association with Boris ‘The Gerbil’ struck us as somewhat strange. He doesn’t allow anyone working for him to drink on the job. So, for example, his bodyguards aren’t allowed to drink, use drugs, or interact with female ‘employees’ while they’re working. In many ways, he runs a fairly tight ship.”

I nodded and said, “That more or less describes Tubby. He gets a daily massage from two women, and on occasion, he’s interacted with them, but other than that, he keeps a close watch. He has a number of local and national politicians in his pocket and seems to be able to get away with just about everything.”

“Yeah, same with Mariani. I don’t know this, but if I found out he occasionally runs some idea past politicians or warns them of something that’s going to happen, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“So you’re here every night until 5:00 or 6:00?”

“Not quite. I’m usually out of here around 4:30. Someone comes in to keep an eye on things. I go into the office and file a report so pain-in-the-ass Bieber can look at it when he comes in.”

“You ever have to deal with him personally?”

“Hardly ever. The times I have, there are always one or two other agents in the room. I can’t believe anyone else is aware of his relationship with Alice. I just want to get enough evidence to hold it over his head, and then I’m going to pull the rug out from underneath him and—”

BANG!

“What the hell? Did that sound like a gunshot to—”

BANG!—BANG!

“Shots fired,” Yuck said as he fired up the Corolla, raced down the driveway, across the road, and into the Mariani estate with his lights off. The large gray stone mansion was off to the left and dark. Over to the right was a contemporary glass structure with an illuminated pool and a black Mercedes GLE 63 parked in front. A man was face down in the doorway of the glass structure. Yuck screeched to a stop behind the Mercedes, basically blocking it in place. He hopped out of the car. I followed, pulling out my pistol, and half ran around the rear of the Corolla.

Yucky’s gun was drawn, and he was pointing it at Boris Bacon, seated halfway in his Mercedes with his feet on the pavement. “Don’t move. Let me see your hands, Bacon. Let me see your hands. Bacon?” He shouted as he stepped forward.

Bacon’s head was tilted back, and he didn’t move. Yucky slowly moved closer, extending both arms and pointing the pistol at Bacon. All the while saying, “Let me see your hands. Don’t move.”

He was finally close enough to place his pistol barrel against Bacon’s chin and push. Bacon fell back across the console. “Jesus. He’s not going anywhere. Let’s check out the body in the doorway,” Yucky said. He took the pistol off Bacon’s lap and placed it beneath the Mercedes. As he moved away, I saw a blood stain about the size of a dinner plate on Bacon’s chest.

We spread apart and cautiously moved toward the door of the building. The man in the doorway was lying in a pool of blood. He held a pistol in his right hand. Yucky reached down, checked for a pulse on the man’s neck, and shook his head. He stepped over the body and into the building. I followed, making sure I avoided the puddle of blood. I glanced down at the face. “Is that Anthony Scarpinati?”

“Yeah, not to worry, he won’t be a problem,” Yuck said.

The illuminated pool area was empty, but there was an open door along the far side with a light on in the room. We headed toward the room, keeping our distance from one another while looking around.

Twenty-Seven

We spread farther apart as we approached the door to the room. We stood against the wall on either side of the door. Yucky signaled that he would step inside. I nodded, and he glanced inside for ten or fifteen seconds before stepping in. I followed a moment later. There was a desk with a computer and papers scattered across it. What appeared to be a bar with a large mirror hanging on the wall behind it was in a corner off to the right. Two leather couches arranged at a right angle were in the corner off to the left. A square, glass-topped coffee table was in front of the couches. Two suitcases and what looked like a computer bag were on the coffee table.

Gray-haired Michael Mariani was seated in the corner of one of the couches. His head rested on the back of the couch, and his mouth was open. A bullet hole was in the center of his forehead, and the wall behind him was covered with a large blood splatter.

Yucky shook his head and said, “Oh God. Dev, I’m going to call the DEA, and they’ll contact the local police. You had better get out of here while you can. This is going to be a very messy situation.”

“But we didn’t do anything other than hear the shots from across the road.”

“Yeah, I know, but the wild card will be Gaylon Bieber. This is the perfect opportunity for him to try to nail me. I don’t know how or what he’ll do, but he’ll try something. You better get out of here while you can. At the very least, he’ll try to get your license revoked. You don’t need the hassle. There isn’t a clue you’ve been here. Please, for your own good. Get out of here. I’ll call you once things have settled down.”

“You sure? I can—”

“Yeah, very sure. Go on, get out of here so I can make the call.”

“Okay, let me know you’re okay when you can.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Dev. I will.”

I hurried out of the building. Once again, I carefully stepped over Anthony Scarpinati’s body at the entrance. I slowed down for a few seconds to glance at Bacon lying across the console. Except for the large blood stain, you’d think he might be asleep. It looked like he’d lived just long enough to reach his car. I guessed he might have been the one to shoot Scarpinati.

I walked out through the open gate and back to my car. I climbed in, thought about staying, and then pulled out of the driveway and headed home. I parked behind Julie’s car and tiptoed into the kitchen. Once again, Morton didn’t even move.

I debated pouring myself a whiskey and decided against it. There was a good chance it would be a busy day. I went upstairs to the guest room and eventually drifted off to sleep, hoping I could get my bed back by tomorrow night.

I only slept for about three and a half hours, waking up at 6:45. I remained in bed for fifteen minutes, trying to fall back asleep, but once it became obvious that wouldn’t happen, I got up. I pulled on the same clothes I’d worn yesterday and went downstairs. I turned on the coffee maker, and once I could pour a cup, I moved into the TV room to see if there was any news regarding last night’s events. There was, on all three local stations, but it was spotty. The reports mentioned that three individuals had been shot, but there was no information on the names, conditions of the individuals, or the location of the shooting. In other words, things would be kept quiet for another couple of hours.

I sipped my coffee and continued to check the various stations, but nothing was updated. Eventually, Julie walked past the TV room and headed for the kitchen. A moment later, she peeked in the room.

“Dev? Is everything all right?”

“Oh, yeah, just up early and catching the news, such as it is. How did you sleep?”

“Like the dead, pardon my term.” She laughed and headed for the kitchen. I turned off the TV and followed her. Morton was awake and stretching. I gave him a head scratch and let him out into the backyard. I filled the food and water dishes for him and Princess, who appeared to be stretching in her carrier.

Julie set what looked like blueberry muffins on the side plates on the kitchen counter. She took a dozen eggs from the refrigerator and set a frying pan on the stove. “Are you ready for breakfast, or would you like another coffee?”

“I’ll take both,” I said, extending my coffee mug. She topped it up and mixed the eggs in a bowl.

Lily suddenly appeared and said, “Oh, you’re up early, or are you just coming home from a wild and crazy night?”

“Just up early,” I said as she filled her coffee mug and settled on the stool beside me.

“Something happened last night. A shooting of some sort, but they haven’t said where or who was injured,” Lily said.

“I was watching the news, and they mentioned three people were involved but nothing else. No names, location, or anything.”

“Not to sound optimistic, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if it was dreadful Boris?” Julie said.

“Amen to that,” Lily replied, raising her coffee mug in a toast.

I bit my tongue and then let Morton back into the kitchen. We chatted over breakfast, and then Morton and I headed to the office. I was searching various sites on the internet when Louie pulled in behind my car. I filled his coffee mug and set it on his picnic table.

Once he recovered from his stair climb, he took another sip of coffee and said, “Did you hear the news?”

“You mean that shooting last night? I heard a little bit. Three persons were shot but no names, no location, and no information on their condition.”

Louie shook his head and said, “Yeah, unfortunately, that’s all I heard. This suggests it’s either some big wig or there are a lot of questions. Maybe it happened in a bar, or it was someone going off the deep end in a family. Maybe they shot the parents and then themselves. Most unfortunate, whatever the situation.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” I said and bit my tongue again as I scanned the internet for any information. I checked my phone a half-dozen times on the odd chance that Yuck may have sent me a text message. He hadn’t, and no new updated information was on the internet. My cellphone rang just before 11:00. I quickly swiped my finger across the screen, hoping it was Yucky, but the call was from Fat Freddy. I glanced out the window, and the Cadillac Escalade was parked in front of my car. Pee Wee was behind the wheel.

“You going to be here for a while?” I asked Louie.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Fat Freddy’s calling. He’s parked out front.”

Louie shook his head and said, “Go on, get out of here before he does something stupid to your car. We’ll be fine.”

“Thanks,” I said, then answered my phone. “Hi, I’m just leaving my office. I’ll see you in a minute.”

“Well, hurry the hell up, damn it. You’re wasting my time, and I got things to do,” Fat Freddy yelled and then disconnected.

Yeah right, like take a nap or eat a pizza and don’t share, I thought. I headed down the stairs and out the door.

Pee Wee was already out of the Escalade. He opened the rear door for me as I hurried across the street and slid into the back seat. He flashed a quick smile and climbed in behind the wheel. As he pulled away from the curb, Fat Freddy said, “His Highness wants to ask you some questions.”

“What about?”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait until he tells you,” Freddy said without turning around.

I glanced at Pee Wee in the rearview mirror, but he didn’t give a reaction. It was the usual routine when we pulled in front of Tubby’s mansion. I was patted down twice and then followed Freddy down the hall to Tubby’s office. Along the way, I started thinking. Last night, the only other guy we saw was muscle-bound, dead, Anthony Scarpinati, lying in the entrance to the pool building. Where was Mariani’s protection? Even if they’d been in the mansion, they certainly would have heard the shots.

Fat Freddy knocked on the office door and opened it. He stood next to the door and nodded toward Tubby, seated on a couch in front of the fireplace. “I was finally able to find Haskell, sir.”

Tubby didn’t respond. He was focused on the television mounted on the wall above the fireplace. His arm was extended, and he was holding a remote, changing the station every few seconds. Without looking at me, he asked, “What information do you have on Michael Mariani, Haskell?”

“Mariani? Umm, well, nothing, sir. I mean, I think he and Boris Bacon may have had a disagreement. I know Bacon hasn’t been back to the Wilder building for the last couple of days. I thought he may have left town. Why? Have you heard something, sir?”

“Are you aware of the shooting last night?”

“The shooting? Do you mean that shooting that involved three individuals? I heard about it on the news, but that was all. To my knowledge, no names have been released, no location has been given, and no word has been given on the condition of the individuals involved. Did Bacon shoot someone?”

Tubby looked at me and shook his head. “No surprise, Haskell. You’re out of touch. He was shot, and so was Mariani and his protector, Anthony Scarpinati.”

“How do you know this, sir? I haven’t heard a thing, and I—”

“That’s because you’re not connected, Haskell. We have it on good authority that both Mariani and Bacon were killed along with Scarpinati.”

“What?” I said, hoping I sounded surprised. “But who did this, and where? There’s been nothing on the news except that there was a shooting last night.”

Tubby shook his head and dropped the remote onto the couch. “Damn it. There are still no updates.”

“Are you sure about this, sir? I haven’t heard a thing, and I—”

“As I said before, that’s because you lack the connections that I have, Haskell.”

“Are you sure about the information you received?”

He picked up his phone from the coffee table, swiped his index finger across the screen, and said, “Take a look at this.” He held the phone toward me, and there on the screen was the image of gray-haired Michael Mariani seated in the corner of the couch with a bullet hole in his forehead and a large blood splatter on the wall behind him. It was pretty much what I’d seen earlier this morning, except that on the glass-topped coffee table in front of Mariani, the computer bag was still there, but the two suitcases were missing.

“Holy cow, Mariani was one of the three people shot? Who were the other two?”

Tubby smiled and said, “None other than Boris ‘The Gerbil’ Bacon.”

“Bacon was shot? What’s his condition?” I asked.

Tubby smiled as he shook his head. “Let’s just say he won’t be a problem. Deader than a doornail. I believe it calls for a celebration, but it’s a little too early in the morning. The powers that be have scheduled a press conference for 1:00 this afternoon. It will undoubtedly be on all the stations and probably Tube You.”

“I think you mean YouTube, sir.”

“I don’t really give a damn. But I’m looking forward to the press conference. A potential problem was eliminated, and an entire market is suddenly available. It’s been a wonderful day thus far, and it’s not even noon. Just wanted to let you know, Haskell. Frederick, please remove this individual from the premises.”

“Happy to do so, sir,” Fat Freddy said, waddling toward the door.

“Thank you for the update, sir. I’m stunned.”

Tubby smiled and said, “I knew you would be. Good day.”

Twenty-Eight

Pee Wee and Fat Freddy dropped me off fifteen minutes later. Freddy gave me the finger as they pulled around the corner and disappeared. I hurried up the stairs to the office.

“Back already? Everything okay?” Louie asked.

“Yeah, just Tubby showing off the fact that someone on the police force or DEA is giving him information,” I said as I headed for my desk. Morton came over for a head scratch and a biscuit. Once I gave him the biscuit, he hurried back to his pillow so he wouldn’t have to share.

I phoned Aaron and left a message. “Hi, Aaron. Give me a call when you have a moment. I have some news on Tubby Gustafson.” I was tempted to call Yucky but figured he was probably busy getting the third degree from Gaylon Bieber. Wanting an explanation as to how three people could be murdered at Mariani’s estate and Yucky wasn’t able to put a stop to it. The last thing he needed right now was a call from me. I placed a call to Julie. She answered on the third ring.

“Hi, Dev. Are you calling to see what we’re preparing for lunch?”

“Not really, and please don’t tell me. It will only make me jealous. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but a press conference is scheduled for 1:00 this afternoon. It’s an update on that shooting that happened last night, and you might find it interesting.”

“Well, thanks for the call, but it sounds depressing. I think we’ll take a pass and go for a walk. It’s a lovely day and—”

“I think you’ll find the press conference very interesting.”

“You sound like you know something. Have you heard something on the news I’m not aware of?”

“Just watch the conference at 1:00. Oh, I’ve got another call coming in I have to take. I’ll talk to you later.”

“But Dev—” I disconnected and decided it might be the perfect time to take Morton on a walk and stop at Rooster’s for a couple of sandwiches to eat while watching the press conference.

I walked over to the door and took the leash off the hook. Morton was immediately on his feet. He began wagging his tail, slamming it against the metal file cabinet. I attached the leash to his collar and said, “We’re going for a walk, Louie. I’m going to stop at Rooster’s for a couple of sandwiches. Back in twenty or thirty minutes.”

“Thanks in advance, hurry back,” Louie said as he typed away on his computer.

We took our usual route on the walk and then headed up to Rooster’s. It suddenly dawned on me that since Boris ‘The Gerbil’ Bacon was no longer a problem, I wasn’t glancing over my shoulder every ten steps. I ordered two sandwiches in Rooster’s and got Morton a fresh beef marrow bone. We were back in the office just before 1:00. Louie was on his phone. I placed a sandwich on his desk and turned on my computer. A couple of minutes later, the press conference came on. The chief of police said a few words and stepped from the podium, a Commander took the microphone. Standing behind him, along with a half-dozen other officers, was Aaron LaZelle. The Commander briefly described the time and place, describing the location as “the home of St. Paul resident, Michael Mariani. Along with Mister Mariani, the bodies of two other individuals were found. Anthony Scarpinati and Boris Bacon. Both men were residents of St. Paul. Our investigation is proceeding, and when we have a better idea of the circumstances, we will, of course, inform the public. We will now take questions.”

I found it interesting that neither Gaylon Bieber nor anyone else from the DEA appeared at the press conference.

“What the hell,” Louie said. “Bacon was killed along with Mariani and some other guy at Mariani’s house?”

“That sounds like what he said. I don’t know who is responsible. I would guess the list is long of folks who wanted to put Bacon out of the way. It’ll be interesting to see what they find out.”

“You think Tubby Gustafson was involved?”

“Actually, no, I don’t. He seemed just as surprised as I was when I found out. He’s celebrating, but I don’t think he knew anything about this until he got the information sometime this morning from some informant at the crime scene. That was the reason Fat Freddy picked me up. Tubby wanted to show off and update me on what happened.”

“But you don’t think Tubby was involved in some way?”

“No, I don’t. Tubby was very excited about it, and to be honest, if he had been involved, the last thing he’d do would be to mention it to me. That said, I’m sure he’s settling into a three-tier chocolate cake right about now in celebration of Mariani and Bacon no longer being a problem, and he didn’t have to lift a finger.”

“Lucky him,” Louie said.

My phone rang thirty seconds after the press conference was finished. “Hi, Julie.”

“Thanking my lucky stars. I can’t believe ‘The Gerbil’ is gone. I wonder if there’ll be a funeral. I might drink too much and then visit his grave.”

“Well, not that I haven’t enjoyed having you and Lily at my home, but it’s wonderful news that you can both go home and not have to worry.”

“You aren’t kidding. As soon as I’m off the phone, I’ll pack my bags. Thank you so much for taking care of us. You’ve been wonderful and extremely patient.”

“It was my pleasure, really it was. I’ve probably put on ten pounds with all the wonderful food the two of you provided.”

“Oh, well, thank you. Now, stay on the line. Lily wants to say something.”

“Oh, Dev, we are so lucky. Problem solved. I can get back to my unit and not have to look out the peephole every time I hear someone in the hall. Thank you so much for putting up with us.”

“Are you kidding? My place is cleaner than it’s ever been, and like I told Julie, I probably put on ten pounds.”

“Well, you are wonderful, and we owe you big time.”

“I’m just glad everything worked out.”

“Yes, me too. The only thing that would be better is if they had locked Bacon up for the rest of his life, and he lived to an old age, but I’ll gladly take this.”

“I’m just happy everything worked out, and neither you nor Julie were hurt in any way.”

“Yes, we all lucked out.”

“You take care, Lily.”

“I will, Dev. Thank you for being so kind,” she said and disconnected.

“Sounds like things are returning to whatever normal is,” Louie said.

“Yeah, glad I could help and everything worked out for them, and now they can settle back into their own places.”

“You did a nice thing, Dev. A lot of people would have come up with an excuse not to help either one of them, let alone both.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I checked online throughout the afternoon, but there were no updates. Morton and I went for our walk and then entered The Spot for a couple of beers and pork rinds.

As I pulled into the driveway, I felt a little sad on the one hand that no one would be there to talk to, and on the other hand, I was glad to have the place back to myself.

When we stepped into the kitchen, the place smelled clean and appeared spotless. The kitchen counter was set for one, and there was a note that said dinner and a wine were in the refrigerator. Princess was stretched out on the kitchen table, and she let off a ‘Meow.’ Morton settled onto his pillow with his marrow bone, and I went upstairs to shower and change clothes. The TV room, dining room, living room, and entry were spotless. Upstairs, the guest room had been cleaned, and fresh sheets were on the bed. My bedroom was the same, with fresh sheets and a vase of flowers on the dresser. I showered in my shiny, spotless bathroom and went downstairs. A bowl of delicious bowtie pasta and a bottle of wine were in the refrigerator. Taped to the pasta bowl were microwave instructions. I ate dinner in front of the TV. There was a little more background on Bacon, Mariani, and Scarpinati. None of it good. I had three glasses of wine and then looked at the bottle and decided to finish it, which I did.

Back in my own bed and after the wine, I had the best night’s sleep in the past week. I was up at 7:00, and Morton and I were in the office before Louie. My office phone rang as I was pouring my first coffee. “Haskell Investigations.”

“Hi, Dev,” Aaron said. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday, but as you probably know, there was a lot going on.”

“Yeah, I saw you at the press conference. Any ideas who else was involved?”

“From what we can tell, no one else. Ballistics reported that Mariani and Scarpinati were shot with Bacon’s gun, and Bacon was shot by Scarpinati’s.”

“Oh, man, I guess I didn’t expect that. Any idea what caused it?”

“Not at this stage, other than obviously money, not surprisingly. You called yesterday. What’s up?”

“I wanted to tell you that I was taken to Tubby Gustafson’s yesterday morning. This was around 11:00, so a couple hours before the press conference. He knew that all three had been murdered, and he showed me a picture someone sent him on his cellphone of Mariani seated on a couch with blood all over the wall behind him. There was a computer bag on a coffee table in front of him.”

“This was at 11:00 yesterday morning?”

“Yeah, and then Tubby bragged that he got the information from someone he was connected with. If you’re thinking he somehow orchestrated the shooting, it didn’t seem like that. He appeared just as surprised as the rest of us and giddy with the idea that he would celebrate later in the day.”

“So, no idea who might have sent him the picture?”

“No idea, but it had to be someone in that room yesterday morning, and that has to be a pretty small group.”

“Interesting, someone is giving Gustafson information. That would seem to suggest he wasn’t involved, and based on who shot who, it all lines up.”

“Well, I wanted to let you know. Hey, was that Bacon’s computer bag?”

“No idea. The computer bag was filled with cash, bundles of hundreds. Like always, there are a whole host of questions we may or may not ever get an answer to. We don’t know if Bacon brought it or if Mariani was going to give it to Bacon. We’ll have to wait and see. Thanks for the update. Let’s stay in touch,” Aaron said and disconnected.

Louie eventually arrived. We chatted about the press conference and various possibilities for the future, all ending with things looking pretty good for Tubby Gustafson.

Bieber’s car was parked in Yuck’s driveway for the next couple of nights, so I continued taking pictures. Heidi came over for dinner and breakfast a couple of days later and was very impressed with how clean my house was. I didn’t mention that Julie and Lily had done all the work.

Speaking of which, I joined them for dinner at Lily’s condo a week later. The police tape had been removed from the unit across the hall from Lily, and according to her, it was now for sale. We had an enjoyable evening, and they thanked me again for letting them stay at my place. I found it interesting that, as I left, it was clear Julie was going to spend the night. In an odd way, maybe one of the benefits, perhaps the only one, of Boris ‘The Gerbil’ Bacon’s involvement.

Epilogue

It was literally a month after the murders when my phone rang. I was parked outside a gym in the suburb of Bloomington where I was working on a case for Pete Carter’s insurance company. One of their customers had filed a claim due to a back injury that wouldn’t allow him to sit at his desk and work. Amazingly, I’d photographed him lifting weights in the gym and running on a treadmill for an hour. I’d just gotten back in my car. The number came across as unlisted, and I debated for a couple of rings before answering. “Haskell Investigations.”

“Hi, Dev. It’s Yucky.”

“Yuck, oh, God. I’ve been worried about you, but I didn’t want to call. I didn’t want to ask my friends on the police force if they knew anything. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, in fact, I’m doing great. I can fill you in later. I’m just calling to see if you’ve got time to meet me for dinner.”

“Absolutely. I’ll meet you anytime, anywhere. You just let me know. If I’ve got something scheduled, I’ll cancel it and meet with you.”

He chuckled and said, “Oh, that’s nice of you. How about tonight? You free?”

“Yeah, sure, I can do that.”

“Good, let’s meet at The River Grill. I’ll make a reservation for 7:00.”

“The River Grill, are you sure you want to do that? That place costs an arm and a leg, and I—”

“Relax, Dev. I’m buying dinner, and you’re my guest.”

“Look, Yuck, you don’t have to buy me dinner. I can—”

He chuckled and said, “I’ll see you there, Dev,” then disconnected.

Morton and I stopped in The Spot that night just long enough for Morton to eat all the pork rinds, and then we headed home. I got cleaned up and slipped on a sports coat, slacks, and a shirt without too many wrinkles. I pulled into valet parking at The River Grill at 6:55. Once again, my Dodge Charger was undoubtedly going to be the worst car in the lot. The valet smiled as he gave me my ticket, number 22, and I headed into the restaurant. I mentioned Yucky’s name and was immediately taken to a table in the corner where he was studying the menu.

The waiter pulled the chair out for me, and I sat down as Yucky looked up. “Oh, Dev, just studying the steaks. I’ve ordered a bottle of wine. It should be here at any moment. It’s been too long,” he said and extended his hand.

“I’ll say.” I looked around and then leaned forward. “I’ve been worried about you, Yuck. Is everything okay?”

“Relax, it couldn’t be better.”

“What’s up with Gaylon Bieber? Is he still making life miserable? I drove past a couple of nights to photograph his car, and you were parked there.”

“Yeah, and I appreciate that. Things are good, very good. That bastard Bieber decided he was going to make life miserable for me, and I followed his instructions for the better part of a week until the DEA eventually responded to my complaints. Once that happened, I added the photos you had taken to my complaint, and he was removed from his post twenty-four hours later. He’s in the process of appealing his firing, but that won’t go anywhere. Everyone hated the guy.”

“They fired him?”

“They didn’t have a choice. I hired an excellent lawyer. I’m also settling on a severance package that will be rather substantial, and if they didn’t fire him, it would only make my severance payment larger.”

“Oh, man, Yuck, that’s great news. Umm, what about Bieber and your wife, Alice? Has she come to her senses?”

“She’ll have plenty of time to do that. I’ve filed for divorce.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, really I am. Not fun. I’ve been dumped by several women, probably a good idea on their part, but it’s never easy.”

“Well, the relationship between her and Bieber was just the latest problem, and I finally decided to end things. She argued, but when I informed her I was aware of her and Bieber’s relationship, that pretty much ended any discussion. She packed a bag and left.”

“Is she with Bieber?”

“No, it turns out he wasn’t interested. She’s applied for a low-income unit close to downtown, and I wish her all success in finding a job.”

A waiter in black trousers, a white shirt, and a black vest appeared with a bottle of wine. He held the bottle toward Yucky, displaying the label. Yuck nodded, and the waiter poured a small amount into his glass. He took a sip, nodded, and the waiter filled our glasses.

I raised my glass toward Yucky and said, “Here’s to better times.” We clinked glasses and took a sip. “Yuck, I was here about six weeks ago. The place costs an arm and a leg. Can we at least split the check?”

He shook his head. “No, Dev, relax. Dinner is on me. I’m doing well, better than well, actually. In fact, I’m thinking I might get a PI license, try that out, and see if I like it.”

“Well, I can tell you, you’ll work all kinds of hours, and you won’t make much money.”

“That’s not a problem,” he said, smiled, and took a sip of wine.

We ordered steaks. I decided to order the six-ounce filet mignon because it was the least expensive, at a whopping $59.00.

“No way, Dev. I told you I’m buying, and I’ll order for you. We’ll have two of the Porterhouse steaks. Medium. You want an hors d’oeuvre?”

“No, the steak will be fine.”

“Okay, that will do for the moment, thank you,” he said to the waiter, who smiled and left.

“Yucky, are you nuts? A hundred and fifty bucks for a steak? You don’t have to spend this kind of money. I would have been happy meeting you at McDonald’s.”

He smiled. “Thanks, Dev, but I owe you. Just relax and let’s enjoy. Tell me about your life as a PI.”

I did just that. We chatted over our steaks, which were delicious, by the way, and I ate all thirty-two ounces. We had a glass of dessert wine. Yucky paid the bill, plus a very large tip, all in cash—hundred dollar bills, by the way. When we stepped outside, he took the card I’d received, marking the parking spot assigned to my car, and gave both our cards to the valets. Two of them ran into the lot and returned a minute later with our cars, my Dodge Charger with rust spots around the windshield and Yucky’s brand new shiny black Lincoln Aviator, that I think went for over a hundred grand. I drove home thinking about Yuck spending the money on dinner and then driving that car. All I could hope was that, with the DEA and marriage trouble, he wasn’t draining whatever he had in his bank account.

I turned back and forth in bed for over an hour, worrying about Yucky and his finances, until I eventually fell asleep. I woke up the next morning, and Yucky flashed into my brain the moment I opened my eyes. I shaved and dressed for work, set out the food and water dishes for Morton and Princess, and an hour later, I was in the office making a fresh pot of coffee and still thinking about Yucky. I was spying out the window through my binoculars at the two women in the third-floor unit across the street. A sign rested in the window that read, ‘FREE VIEWS.’ Suddenly, a dark-brown SUV labeled UPS pulled in front of my car.

The driver hopped out carrying one of those smaller cardboard boxes and hurried across the street. I heard the stairs creaking as he quickly climbed, and I figured it was a delivery to the hairdressers across the hall from our office.

Instead, the guy knocked on our office doorframe and said, “Devlin Haskell?”

“Yeah, no one else would want to be me.”

He smiled, said, “UPS Express,” and handed the box to me.

“What’s this?”

“You’re Devlin Haskell?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a package addressed to you. Please sign here,” he said, pointing to a tag attached to the box.

I signed the tag, and then he tore it off the box and said, “Thank you, sir,” and hurried out of the room.

I turned the box over. There was no return address, and there was nothing identifying where it came from. I opened the middle drawer on my desk and ran the serrated edge of my letter opener across the reinforced brown and black paper tape sealing the box. As I opened it, I saw the small air pillow cushions protecting whatever the contents were. I removed the top layer of cushions, and there was a white business envelope with ‘Dev’ typed on the front. I picked up the envelope, and beneath it was a bundle of hundred dollar bills with a mustard color strap labeled $10,000.

I sat and stared for at least a minute, picked up the bundle, and fanned through it. They were all real hundred-dollar bills. I opened the envelope and read the typed note.

Thank you for your help.

A small payment, compliments of

The Gerbil

It suddenly dawned on me. It had to have been Yucky who took the suitcases off the coffee table in Mariani’s office. No doubt a couple of million bucks. He was set for life…

The End

Thanks for taking the time to read the

Dev Haskell Mystery,

House Guests.

If you liked the book please click on the link and leave a review. I’m indie published and it really, really helps.

Thank You!

Universal: https://geni.us/HouseGuestsDev38

Check out this sample The Good Neighbor the latest book in the Jack Dillon Dublin Tales series.

The Good Neighbor

Mike Faricy

One

Dillon checked his Garmin watch. He was just over the two-and-a-half-mile mark on his Saturday morning run, which meant it was time to turn around and head home. There was a cul-de-sac up ahead, and he made his way toward it. At no surprise, he was sweating and breathing heavily, but his legs and knees were doing just fine. He made a leisurely turn around the cul-de-sac and back onto the street when he heard the unmistakable sound of two gunshots in rapid succession. He stopped, turned around, and quickly studied the eight homes.

Nothing seemed out of order. The homes were all unattached, with parking drives in front large enough to accommodate two vehicles. The sound had been muffled, most likely coming from inside one of the homes. The question was, which one? He checked the time on his watch: 10:37. He took his phone from the pocket of his hydration running belt and dialed 999, the Irish Emergency Response number.

“Emergency Response, which service do you require?”

“An Garda Síochána,” Dillon replied.

His phone clicked twice, and a voice replied, “An Garda Síochána, Sergeant Dempsey. What’s the nature of your call?”

“My name is Marshal Jack Dillon. I’m attached to Dublin’s Special Branch. I’m on my morning run and heard the unmistakable sound of two gunshots just a moment ago.”

“And you’re sure it was a gunshot and not a door being slammed or a car that may have—”

“I’m familiar with gunshots. I definitely heard two gunshots just a minute or two ago.”

“And where are you, sir?”

“I’m at the corner of Elm Mount Circle and Skelly’s Lane in Beaumont.”

“I’ll alert a team, and they should arrive within the next ten minutes. Please remain on site and do not approach the house.”

“Not a problem since I have no idea which house it was.”

Sergeant Dempsey disconnected, suggesting he wasn’t too happy with the request. Dillon stood at the corner and waited, then waited some more. It was going on thirty-five minutes before he saw a squad car turn onto the road and head toward him. No flashing lights, no increased speed. He gave a wave, and the squad car pulled into the oncoming traffic lane, slowed, and came to a stop alongside him. The window lowered, and the officer behind the wheel studied Dillon for a moment and then asked, “Are you the person who reported hearing gunshots?”

“I did, maybe forty minutes ago. Not sure which house they came from.”

“And you think they were gunshots?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what I heard.”

“You’re American?”

“Yes,” Dillon said. He knew where this was going, so he didn’t add that he was with Special Branch.

“Well, things appear to be pretty quiet. Has anyone stepped outside in the past forty minutes?”

“No, nothing happened. I’m sure everyone is grabbing a coffee before—”

“We drink tea over here. So you’re out on a run?”

“Yes, I was.”

“And what brought you here?”

“Two and a half miles and the perfect place to gradually turn around.”

“Where ’bouts you coming from, the Skylon Hotel over on Drumcondra?”

“No, Glasnevin,” Dillon replied, thinking it was clear the officer was viewing him as a tourist.

“Well, it’s been a good bit of time, and no reports from anyone else. I’m guessing it wasn’t a gunshot, maybe a car backfiring or something. I’ll drive through a couple of times later today and see what—”

“I’m sure it was shots fired, two of them.”

“And you’ve no idea what house it may have come from?”

“No, sorry, but I don’t.”

“All right. I’ll check it out.” The officer didn’t sound all that interested. He raised his window and pulled ahead, slowly driving around the cul-de-sac until he was back opposite Dillon ninety seconds later and lowered his window.

“Everything looks to be in order. I think you probably heard someone dropping a heavy box or even a board out in their back garden.”

Dillon thought about responding but then stepped closer. “Let’s just hope I was wrong.”

“I’m pretty sure you were,” the officer said, then raised his window and drove off. Dillon took a last look around the cul-de-sac before he turned and jogged back home. Coming down the lane, he made note of the fact that Tara, his neighbor, had her car parked in her drive. No strange car was parked in front of her house, which meant there was a good chance she was alone again last night. A dinner invite might be just the thing to make the weekend memorable, he thought.

Lucifer, his dog, was in the front garden, stretched out in the sunshine and chewing on a green rubber ball. He gave Dillon a look when he opened the wrought iron gate and stepped in.

“How about a treat and some lunch?” Dillon called out. At the sound of the word ‘treat,’ Lucifer was on his feet and hurrying over to Dillon. He got a scratch behind the ears, and once the front door was unlocked, they both went inside. Dillon kicked off his shoes and stepped into the kitchen. He took the lid off the cookie jar and pulled out a marrow bone biscuit, Lucifer’s favorite treat. He tossed it to Lucifer, who caught the treat in midair and then hurried out into the hallway, where he devoured the item in three quick bites so he wouldn’t have to share.

Dillon made his way up the stairs. He draped his shirt and running shorts over the upstairs banister and headed into the bathroom. He took a long, hot shower, shaved, and then pulled on a pair of jeans and an IRFU jersey, Irish Rugby Football Union. He sent a text message to Tara, inviting her over for dinner. He sliced a bagel, placed smoked salmon on the bagel, and sat down at the kitchen counter. He had just taken his first bite when his phone rang. It was Tara returning his text message.

“Hey, good morning. Hope things are going well for you. Can you join me tonight?”

“Depends on what you’re serving,” she said and laughed.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“You talking dinner or…?”

“Dinner for starters, but no pressure.”

“You know, I’d love steaks with fried mushrooms, a little salad, and roast potatoes.”

“That sounds perfect. What time works for you?”

“Right around 6:00. I’ve got a laid-back day, and not having to cook dinner would be perfect.”

“Consider it done. I’ll see you around 6:00.”

“Yummy. Looking forward to it. I’ll bring the wine,” she said and disconnected.

Dillon finished his lunch, took Lucifer for a walk in the park, and then ran to Tesco. He picked up steaks, a bag of salad, potatoes, brie cheese, and two slices of cheesecake. He marinated the steaks, changed the sheets on his bed, pulled on a clean shirt and trousers, and set the kitchen counter for two. He set the brie on a small platter and arranged crackers around the cheese. He tuned in to a radio station that played nonstop music on Saturday evenings and then, not for the first time, peeked out the front window, hoping to see Tara crossing the street.

He’d lost track of the number of times he’d peeked out the window before he eventually saw her, but it was worth the wait. She was just crossing the street carrying two bottles of wine and wearing high-waisted black leather shorts with a zipper front and a lace-up tank corset bustier. By all indications, it was going to be a wonderful night. He watched until she reached the front garden gate before he opened the front door and stared as she approached.

“Oh. My. God. Tara, you look absolutely gorgeous.”

“Oh, you like?” she asked as she stepped up to the front door and gave Dillon a kiss.

“Are you kidding? What’s not to like? Get in and let me close the door before you attract a crowd of guys who want to take you out tonight.”

“Here’s a special wine that I really like with steaks. I’m leaving it up to you not to over serve me, otherwise, who knows what I’ll want to do,” she teased as she raised her eyebrows and handed the bottles to Dillon.

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye on you,” Dillon promised, thinking, This is going to be so great. He led her into the kitchen and set the bottles on the counter. “Give that brie a taste, Tara. It’s really good.” He pulled the corkscrew from the drawer, opened a bottle, and let it breathe for thirty seconds before he filled the crystal wine glasses.

Two

Dillon drained his wine glass and slid off the kitchen stool. He poured what remained in the bottle into Tara’s glass and opened the second bottle. They were still nibbling on crackers and cheese while trading stories.

“You hungry for some steak?” Dillon asked as he refilled his glass.

“Oh, no hurry. I’ll love it when you get to it, but I’ve really enjoyed your stories. I can’t believe your man fell into the chocolate vat in the Cadbury factory, and the officers were able to track and arrest him.”

“Yeah, a fat guy. He was literally covered in chocolate from head to toe, and he left a trail of chocolate. As they drove him to the station, he was handcuffed in the back seat, licking the chocolate off his hands. They had to give him a shower before they could take a mug shot of him. His chocolate-covered clothes were in an evidence bag for his initial court appearance. He ended up with a six-month sentence. We suspect it wasn’t his first time in the factory, but there was no way to actually prove that.”

“I’d say he’s lucky it wasn’t a vat of hot caramel that he fell into. The results could have been a lot worse.”

“Don’t even go there,” Dillon said as he turned on the stove burner and uncovered the platter with the steaks. “How do you like your steak?”

“Medium rare, if that’s okay.”

“Actually, that’s perfect, and it’s exactly how I like mine.” Once the oil was heated, he set the steaks in the pan and set the timer for four minutes. He removed the potatoes from the oven and set them on the plates. He turned the steaks when the timer went off, resetting the timer for three minutes. At the three-minute mark, he added butter with sprigs of thyme for one more minute, then removed the steaks from the pan, placed them on a platter, and covered them with tin foil. He turned off the burner with the sliced red peppers but left the covered pan on the burner.

Tara raised her glass, they clinked glasses, and she said, “This looks wonderful. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can think of something.” She grinned, and they both took a sip of wine just as Dillon’s cell phone rang. “Oh, no, please don’t let it be the station. Damn it,” he said as he glanced at the screen and saw his partner’s name, Paddy Suel. The phone rang a second time. “Paddy, can this wait?” was how Dillon answered.

“You doing something?”

“A dinner guest.”

“Mmm-mmm, let me call someone else.”

“No, wait. What’s up?” Dillon asked.

“A shooting, apparently earlier today, this morning, actually. Over on Elm Mount Circle. That’s right off of—”

“Right off of Skelly’s Lane over in Beaumont. For Christ’s sake. It was two shots fired. I was out there on the street this morning. I heard the shots fired and phoned it in. The officer I spoke to on the phone thought I was wasting his time. I waited damn near an hour for someone to show up. Some idiot finally arrived, took one look around, and since he didn’t see a body, the bastard told me it had probably been a car backfiring.”

“Are you serious?”

“Damn right, I am.”

“I’ll place a call and—”

“No, I’ll meet you there. You headed over now?”

“Yeah, probably be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Damn it. I’ll see you there.”

“You don’t have to, Dillon. I can get someone—”

“Are you kidding? Let them know I placed the initial phone call, and now I can’t be bothered? No way, I’ll see you there,” Dillon said and disconnected.

“That didn’t sound all that positive,” Tara said. “Not to worry. You do what you have to do, and I’ll go home and—”

“No, I want you to stay right where you are,” Dillon said. He grabbed the bottle of wine and topped up her glass, then uncovered the steaks and placed one on a plate. He pulled the lid off the frying pan with the red peppers and put two heaping spoonfuls of peppers onto her plate, then handed the plate over to Tara.

“Are you sure? I can take this home and—”

“I’m very sure. With any luck, I’ll be back in ninety minutes. Please, eat this while it’s hot, then settle in front of the TV and watch something with no redeeming social value. I’ll be back just as soon as I can. Please stay.”

She nodded and said, “I’ll probably be asleep on the couch.”

“Or just go upstairs and crawl into my bed.”

“Alone?”

“Believe me, I’ll do my best to get back just as soon as possible.”

“Okay, then give me another kiss and off with yas.”

Dillon gave her two kisses, then stepped into the entry and pulled on his jacket. He draped his ID around his neck, pulled the holster with his 9mm pistol around his waist, and headed out the door.

If you eliminated the stoplights along the way, it wasn’t much more than a five-minute drive over to Beaumont. Thanks to the stoplights, Dillon pulled into Elm Mount Circle twelve minutes later. It would have taken him just a few minutes more to jog over, not that he wanted to.

The house was the third unit on the right side of the circle, not all that far away from where he was this morning when he heard the two shots being fired. It was a two-story, brown stucco structure. The windows on the second story were built into the roof, suggesting they were probably a later addition when the loft had been remodeled, possibly for bedrooms or an office. Three squad cars and Paddy Suel’s car were parked in front of the house. A Dublin Morgue van had been backed into the parking drive in front. Dillon climbed out of his car and headed toward the front door.

A familiar-looking officer was stationed at the door. Dillon couldn’t remember the officer’s name, but he smiled, gave a wave as he approached, and asked, “How’s it going tonight?”

“Going okay, sir. Certainly better than your man inside.”

“I just got the call and haven’t heard your man’s name. Do you know it?”

The officer nodded and said, “Higgins, Brady Higgins.”

“Brady Higgins? That’s not the arms dealer, is it?”

The officer nodded. “One and the same.”

“Of all the people to be shot. Good lord. Who is the officer in charge?”

“DI Mathews.”

“You know his first name?”

He nodded again. “Ramsey, DI Ramsey Mathews.”

“Okay, well, I hope things remain quiet and boring out here for you.”

“Thanks, sir. Nice to see you again.”

“Same here. Unfortunately, it’s under these circumstances,” Dillon said and stepped into the house. He entered a hallway that appeared to stretch to the back of the house. Doors to various rooms were on either side of the hallway. He headed toward the voices he heard from the second room on the left side of the hall.

DI Paddy Suel was talking to two other officers. One had gray hair and appeared to be in his late forties. The other had dark brown hair and a mustache, maybe just forty. As he stepped inside, Suel said, “Oh, here he is now. Sorry to pull you away from your evening, Dillon. This is DI Ramsey Mathews.” Suel nodded at the man with the mustache. “And Officer Bud Riley.” The gray-haired man nodded. Dillon shook hands with both men. “I was just telling them about you calling in to report shots fired this morning,” Suel said.

“Talk about a waste of time. They weren’t interested. I phoned Emergency Response, and whoever I spoke with suggested it was a door being slammed or a car backfiring. When an officer eventually showed up, more than a half-hour later, he said the same thing, probably a car backfiring or maybe something heavy dropped in the back garden.”

“Did they know you were with Special Branch?” Mathews asked.

“I told the officer who answered my call. I thought he would have passed the information on to the officer that eventually appeared. Once he asked me if I was staying in a hotel, I figured there was no point in trying to convince him I knew what I was talking about.”

“When was this?” Mathews asked.

“It was 10:37 this morning. I phoned it in immediately, then waited right on the corner at the entrance to the cul-de-sac until the officer in the squad car arrived. He coasted past each house, looking out the window, told me everything looked okay, and left.”

“Why were you here?”

“This is one of my jogging routes, two and a half miles from my home, so I can run around the cul-de-sac and head back home.”

“Did you get your man’s name in the car?”

Dillon shook his head. “No, and that’s probably a good thing. Is the body upstairs?”

“No, it’s in the sitting room. Your man looks comfortable. You’d think he was asleep in the chair, well, except for the bullet hole in his forehead.”

“I heard two shots being fired.”

“Yeah, the second one was a chest wound. I’m guessing the heart. Either one was a kill shot, so there’s a good chance whoever is responsible was experienced. Of course, your man Higgins was eighty-three years old,” Mathews said.

“Any idea on cause? You think someone may have been here to steal guns?”

“No indication of that, at least at this point. There are a number of gun safes up on the second floor, and none of them appear to have been tampered with.”

“Would it be all right if I peeked into the sitting room?”

“I think so. Maybe give a shout to the team before you enter. Do you have gloves?”

“I’ve got them out in my car. I’ll get a pair and—”

“We’ve some in the kitchen. Bud, would you grab the box and bring it in here?” Mathews asked.

Riley, the gray-haired officer, gave a nod and headed for the door in the corner of the room. He was back a minute later, and both Dillon and Suel took two latex gloves from the package and went across the hall to the sitting room.

The room had light yellow walls and white trim. A large red-and-blue oriental rug covered a good portion of the floor. A white marble fireplace that was probably original to the home was centered on the far wall with the portrait of a red-haired woman, maybe fifty years old, centered above the fireplace. A black leather couch with a coffee table in front of it faced the fireplace, and a light blue wingback chair was positioned at either end of the coffee table. A crystal glass with what appeared to be a half-inch of whiskey rested next to an open book on the coffee table. The wingback chair next to the crystal glass had a small blood splatter on one side. A black body bag was on the gurney, and Noel Leonard from the Dublin Morgue was in the process of zipping the bag closed.

He glanced over at Dillon and Suel and said, “Oh, well, that’s about right. Now that the heavy lifting is over, you two show up.”

Everyone chuckled, and Dillon gave Leonard a brief tale of his phone call to Emergency Response.

“And you said this was at 10:30?” Noel asked.

“10:37, to be exact,” Dillon replied.

“We’ll see how that time fits with our examination.”

“You find anything in here that suggests a struggle?” Dillon asked.

“No, everything seems to be in order. Your man apparently was drinking a whiskey or planning to.” Leonard nodded toward the glass. “We haven’t touched the book, but based on its position, upside down and open on the coffee table, it suggests to me he was possibly involved in a conversation with someone. Nothing I’ve seen indicates an argument or fight.”

“Except for being shot twice,” Suel said.

“Yes, but given the placement of the book, I would think it was casually placed there, maybe for just a minute or two. It’s an American title, Dillon, The Boys in the Boat. Are you familiar with it?”

“Yes, I read the book but haven’t seen the movie yet. Ummm, the 1936 Olympics and the rowing team that won the gold medal were dealing with the depression. It was a very good read. What can you tell us about the shooting?”

“At this stage, not much. Small caliber pistol. I’m guessing a distance of no more than ten feet. That could mean the shooter was seated in the other wingback chair or at the corner of the couch here,” Leonard nodded at the far end of the couch.

“No bruising?” Suel asked.

“At least not on his face. We’ll examine the body, but I don’t expect to find anything.”

“Do you know how we were alerted?”

“A neighbor knocked on the door and didn’t get a response but could see your man sitting in the chair.”

“I get the sense that Mr. Higgins lived alone,” Dillon said, looking around the room.

Suel nodded. “His wife, I believe that’s her portrait above the fireplace, passed away. If I’m not mistaken, that may have occurred ten or twelve years ago. Heart attack or something. It was in the paper. I believe that, after that, he transferred the organization, the gun business, to his employees. I don’t know the terms, but we can check on them. He was still modestly involved in the business and still involved in the gun club he operated and funded to an extent.”

“Any problems with law enforcement?”

Suel shook his head. “Just the opposite. Through the gun club, he offered access to gun ranges, and review and identification of various weapons, not to mention information on individuals selling weapons illegally. He was a big supporter of An Garda Síochána.”

They chatted for a bit, and then Leonard and an assistant wheeled the gurney into the hall and out the front door.

Dillon and Suel checked in with DI Mathews and then made their way up to the second floor.

Three

Dillon’s assessment of the second floor being a later addition to the home appeared to be correct. The staircase in the front hall led up to the center of the second floor, with the hallway positioned perpendicular to the hallway on the ground floor. There were four decent-sized rooms on the second floor. The doors were directly across from one another on either end of the hallway. At the moment, both bedrooms were being searched by individuals wearing white lab coats and latex gloves. The master bedroom had a king-size bed and an attached bathroom. The other bedroom had two single beds and appeared to be the guest bedroom. To gain access to the bathroom, you would have to step into the hall. The other two rooms, approximately the size of the guest room, served as an office and a storage room.

The office had an antique wooden desk with a flat-screen TV, two client chairs, and a manual typewriter. An empty space on the desk and various cords along the floor suggested a desktop computer had recently been removed. The storage room had six heavy-duty steel safes. The safes were identical, each one five feet tall and three feet wide. Most likely, they contained guns, although they had yet to be opened.

In their brief conversation with the officers going through the bedrooms, thus far, nothing out of the ordinary had been found. They spoke to an officer dusting for fingerprints on the front and back doors of the house. Neither door appeared to have been tampered with, suggesting whoever shot Brady Higgins in the sitting room was quite possibly someone he knew. Business records from the office on the second floor had already been collected by two officers from Special Branch. After the better part of an hour going through the scene and attempting to stay out of the way, Dillon and Suel agreed to return tomorrow morning, Sunday, at 10:00 and meet with DI Ramsey Mathews. Dillon made a mental note to seek out Sergeant Dempsey, the officer who took his initial phone call, along with the officer who eventually drove over and quickly determined nothing had happened.

After a short conversation in front of the house with Suel, Dillon headed home, crossing his fingers and saying a brief prayer along the way that Tara would still be there. Thankfully, she was stretched out on the sitting room couch with Lucifer. The two of them were watching a movie. Tara was sipping a glass of red wine. An empty dinner plate and silverware rested on the end table next to the couch.

“Oh, back so soon,” Tara called as Dillon stepped into the sitting room.

“Yeah, we were going to be more in the way than helping out. I’ll be back there tomorrow morning around 10:00. How was your steak?”

“Mmm-mmm, absolutely delicious. I dished yours up on a plate with the roasted peppers. Can I pour you a glass of wine?”

“No, stay there with your new best friend, and I’ll bring the plate in here. Hey, thanks for staying. I knew if I waited long enough, something was bound to go right today.”

She smiled at his comment and said, “Oh, thank you.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said and hurried into the kitchen. The plate was on the kitchen counter, covered with tin foil. He removed the foil, debated placing the plate in the microwave for a half-minute, and decided against it. Everything was cold, and he didn’t care. He poured himself a glass of wine, placed the silverware in his pocket, picked up the plate, the wine glass, and the wine bottle, and hurried back into the sitting room. Tara was watching the Irish series The Fall, about an Irish policewoman whose father was a serial killer.

He set his plate and glass on the small table next to the chair opposite the couch. He poured what was left of the wine into Tara’s glass, then sat down and began to eat. Lucifer glanced over but apparently decided that resting his head on Tara’s lap was a better option than Dillon not sharing. It took Dillon about six minutes to finish his steak and roast peppers. He ignored the baked potato and finished his glass of wine minutes later.

Tara picked up the remote control device for the TV and paused the series. “You wolfed that down and drained your glass. Would you like me to turn this off?”

“No, sorry, I guess I was a lot hungrier than I realized. Well, plus, I wish I would have been here to have dinner with you. Thank you for hanging around.”

She smiled and said, “Well, I have needs, too. Starting with, I could use another glass of wine. In fact, it looks like we both could.”

“Happy to do that. Turn the TV back on. I can tell you like what you’re watching.”

“Thank you. You’re okay?”

“Yeah, just glad to have you here. Let me get you that wine. I’ll be right back,” Dillon said and hurried out to the kitchen. He put his potato in the refrigerator, rinsed off his plate, and placed it in the dishwasher. Then, he hurried back to the sitting room with a new bottle of wine. Dillon filled her glass, got a kiss for the effort, then filled his glass and settled into the chair.

They watched two episodes of The Fall, and then Dillon let Lucifer out into the front garden as Tara headed upstairs. He eventually got Lucifer settled in the guest room and made his way into the bedroom. Tara was in bed, resting against the headboard. She was sipping her glass of wine and looking absolutely gorgeous. He topped up her wine glass, undressed, and climbed in next to her.

They chatted for a bit, eventually finished their wine, and made the evening complete.

Dillon was up and showered at 6:00 the following morning. Tara joined him in the kitchen ninety minutes later. She stayed for a mug of tea and then walked across the lane to her house. Dillon took Lucifer for a short walk, heading in the opposite direction so Tara wouldn’t see him walking the dog. He drove over to the Headquarters Building and went into Special Branch. He reviewed the files, such as they were, online but didn’t find anything suggesting a potential suspect. He drove over to Elm Mount Circle and the Higgins’s house. There was a Tech Department van and two squad cars parked in front. Dillon pulled in next to one of the squad cars. There wasn’t a guard out front, and the front door was locked, so he rang the doorbell.

Just as he was about to ring the doorbell again, the door opened, and Jim Burke from the Tech Department said, “Well, Marshal Dillon, at no surprise.” He glanced over Dillon’s shoulder and asked, “Is DI Suel with you?”

“He will be. We were planning to meet here around 10:00.”

“Well, you’re early, so come on in,” Burke said and stepped to the side. “We can head into the sitting room.”

Dillon followed Burke into the sitting room. DI Ramsey Mathews was on his phone standing in front of the marble fireplace. He gave Dillon a nod and continued his phone conversation. Dillon and Burke settled onto two antique wooden chairs with wicker seats. The chairs were positioned against a far wall, probably meant more for decoration than everyday use. The couch and the two wingback chairs had blue tape with white letters draped across them. The tape read, ‘An Garda Síochána DO NOT CROSS.’ Not exactly correct instructions, but the message was clear not to sit there.

“Sorry for that. I have to head back to the station,” Mathews said once he disconnected his phone. “Anything you need? I should be back in about an hour.”

“Have you learned anything?” Dillon asked.

“Yes, unfortunately. It appears that whoever was here, and I’m presuming responsible, left with the desktop computer in the office. We’re trying to get a handle on what else might be missing.”

“Whoever it was knew at least some basics in computer technology. I was able to hook up to what remains of the security system, and basically, the security tapes have been destroyed,” Burke said.

“But whatever company was supplying the service will have copies, won’t they?”

“They would if the service was up to date, but Higgins had one of, if not the oldest system, I’ve ever seen. Everything was recorded, but the recordings remained on the local equipment, all of which has suddenly disappeared.”

“Are you telling me that, since someone took the desktop computer from the office, there’s no way to obtain the security tapes? There’s no file stored up in the cloud somewhere?” Mathews asked.

Burke nodded and said, “That is exactly what I’m telling you.”

“God, not what I wanted to hear. What company was this?”

“Baile átha Cliath Security.”

“Isn’t that Irish for Dublin?” Dillon asked.

“Very good for an American, Dillon. You’re absolutely correct, and before you ask, no, they’re no longer in business. They went out of business back in 2011.”

“They’ve been out of business for twelve years?”

“Actually, thirteen years, but who’s counting. I would guess the system he had would alert him if someone broke in through the door or maybe a window, and it would record activity in the kitchen and the sitting room. The problem is that the desktop computer that recorded any activity is gone. There’s no suggestion of a backup system, and given the age, I would question if it was even capable of recording, let alone storing an image.”

“For the love of—any other good news?” Mathews asked.

“Yes and no. Whoever was involved, and at this point, it appears to have been a single individual, but whoever it was, knew what they were doing. I would guess, once he left, his first task would be to destroy the desktop computer and deposit the remnants in a number of different bins.”

“Are you aware of any business problems?” Dillon asked.

Mathews shook his head. “With Higgins? No. He was more or less retired. Investments over the years allowed for a comfortable life. His customer list consisted of some government agencies and An Garda Síochána. His involvement in the business over the last eight or ten years was more on the level of providing advice and recommendations rather than selling actual weapons. He managed the rifle club more as an enjoyable undertaking than something that provided revenue.”

“What about all the safes in the room upstairs? I’m guessing they contain weapons.”

“They probably do, and we have a team scheduled for later this morning to attempt to open them. The mere fact that we had to go outside the department, and I don’t mean just our station, but outside all of An Garda Síochána, to find someone capable of opening those safes speaks volumes regarding the security of the weapons. I don’t know this, but my sense is whoever murdered your man probably thought he would be able to access the safes. Once he couldn’t, he grabbed the desktop computer, hoping to eliminate any image of himself, and fled the scene.”

“And you’ve no idea who that might have been?”

“Not at this point. But I suspect a name or two might eventually surface. Again, all indications are Higgins never operated with someone of this nature, a killer.”

Dillon shook his head. “And yet someone was in here at 10:30 yesterday morning and shot him.”

“We’ll see where it takes us,” Burke said.

“Looks like we’re going to be drawing up a laundry list of possible suspects and checking them out,” Dillon replied just as the doorbell rang.

“Let me get that,” Mathews said and hurried toward the front door.

Dillon could hear the conversation but couldn’t make out what was being said. The voices grew louder as Mathews led two men past the entrance to the sitting room and up the stairs.

“From what we were able to determine, no one gained access to the safes in the room. There are six of them, all manufactured by your company. Our victim was a long-time arms dealer working in the country with the Home Defense Force and An Garda Síochána. Now, if you need—” They were suddenly far enough away that Dillon was unable to hear what else was said, which probably meant that they had entered the room with the safes.

The doorbell rang again, and Dillon was off his chair. He shouted up the staircase, “I’ve got it,” as he headed to the front door. He opened the door, and there was his partner, DI Paddy Suel. “Whatever you’re selling, we’re not interested. Besides, I have two women waiting for me in the bedroom.”

Suel chuckled. “I’ll just wait for you down here. Shouldn’t take more than ninety seconds. Please pass on my condolences to both of the poor souls. How are you doing? Been here long?”

“Just ten minutes or so. I was talking to Burke from the Tech Department and DI Mathews. Turns out the desktop computer that is missing was the only place the security images were stored. Seems like a pretty sure bet that whoever took it knew what he was doing.”

“I saw two guys coming in as I pulled up.”

“Yeah, they’re hoping to be able to open up the safes upstairs. They’re with the company that manufactured them.”

“So what happens if they can open them?” Suel asked.

“I would guess An Garda Síochána would take possession of the contents. I would presume that, if they could open them, someone, maybe the ERU or even the Armed Support Unit, would take the weapons into ERU Headquarters. Six large safes could hold a number of weapons. We can’t let them remain here. They might be able to determine if something was missing, but that strikes me as a slim chance.”

“Oh, DI Suel, thanks for joining us,” Burke said as they stepped into the sitting room. Mathews suddenly came down the stairs and into the sitting room.

“What’s the word?” Dillon asked.

“They have a number of options, but they seemed pretty confident they would be able to open the safes.”

“We were just talking about transporting the weapons if they can open the safes. Do you have someone lined up?”

Mathews nodded. “The Emergency Response Unit from Headquarters. As soon as they open one of the safes, they’ll be alerted and head over with a secure vehicle.”

“Would it be all right if we took a look around? We had a brief look yesterday, but teams were still going through the place.”

“Not a problem. Your man’s office has pretty much been emptied out. All the files, his rolodex, and a cell phone were removed and taken to the Headquarters building. We have a box of gloves in the kitchen. It would be best to put those on and then let the lads work on the safes. Otherwise, look around. I’m at Headquarters for the next hour.”

Burke went upstairs as Dillon and Suel made their way into the kitchen. “What do you think?” Suel asked.

“I think we’ve got the beginnings of mission impossible,” Dillon said.

Four

They each pulled on a pair of latex gloves and headed upstairs to the office. The comment about the office having been emptied out wasn’t an exaggeration. Other than a phone and a blank notepad next to the phone, the desk was clear. There were three drawers on either side of the desk chair, all empty. Two four-drawer wooden file cabinets were against the exterior wall. All the drawers were open about six inches, exposing a completely empty file drawer. It took all of sixty seconds to look around and determine there was nothing of interest.

“I’m getting the feeling we’ll be spending the better part of our Sunday afternoon going over files back at the office,” Suel said.

“I’m afraid you may be right,” Dillon replied. He stepped over to the phone, lifted the receiver, and pressed two buttons on the keyboard. A recorded voice responded, saying, “You have no messages in your mailbox.”

He hung up the phone and then glanced at the notepad. He picked it up and fanned through the half-inch stack of pages. They all appeared to be blank. He set the pad down and opened the narrow middle drawer on the desk. Other than a couple of pens and two pencils, the drawer was empty. He took out a pencil and lightly rubbed it over the top sheet of the notepad. Maybe a third of the way down the page, a phone number began to appear, 086-10-68. He couldn’t read the last two numbers.

“You got a number or a name there?” Suel asked.

“No name, but part of a phone number. Can you grab Burke? I think he’s in the—”

“I’ll get him. He’s in with the safe crackers. Don’t tear that sheet off the tablet.”

“Thanks for the instruction, Paddy,” Dillon said.

Suel was back with Burke a moment later. “You found something?” Burke asked as he stepped into the office.

“Maybe,” Dillon said. “Looks to be part of a phone number. I can’t make out the last two digits, but I’m thinking your team might be able to analyze the sheet. God knows when it was written, but the one zero identifies it as a cell phone number. It could be someone, or Higgins could have just been placing an order for a pizza.”

“Let me grab an evidence bag, and I’ll be right back,” Burke said and hurried out of the office. He was back a half-minute later and carefully slid the notepad into the bag. “Good catch, Dillon. Thank you.”

“God forbid it turns out to help. Were they able to open any of the safes?”

“They got two safes open. There were a bunch of Heckler & Koch HK416 assault rifles and a dozen Heckler & Koch P7s. They all looked brand new, and I would guess they’re the latest models.”

“And that’s just from two of the safes?”

Burke nodded as he sealed the evidence bag containing the notepad.

“You mind if we take a look through that master bedroom?” Suel asked.

“Be my guest. I’m going to set this downstairs with some other items. Once the Emergency Response Unit arrives, it would be best if you waited outside. I’m guessing, by the time they list all the weapons and load them up, we could be looking at maybe an hour or more.”

“That might be the perfect time for us to drive over to headquarters and begin to go through things. I’m curious as to what they got out of Higgins’s office,” Dillon replied.

Suel shook his head. “Nothing like a relaxing Sunday. Let’s do a quick check of the master bedroom while we can.”

They walked out of the office and down to the opposite end of the hall. The master bedroom had a king-size bed and a chest of drawers with a framed photo of Higgins’s wife. She was standing next to the Molly Malone statue on Suffolk Street in Dublin. There was a brown leather recliner with a book resting on the end table next to the recliner. A bookmark with a gold tassel marked a page in about the middle of the book. Dillon stepped over and glanced at the title. “Circle of Friends, by Maeve Binchy, an Irish classic,” he read out loud.

“You ever read that?” Suel asked.

Dillon shook his head. “Too upscale for me.”

“Well, that’s because you’re more into comic books,” Suel joked.

They went through the chest of drawers, as well as the drawers on the two bedside tables, and found nothing of interest. Suel raised the mattress on the bed, but there wasn’t anything beneath it. The attached bathroom had nothing out of the ordinary and needed a good cleaning.

“I’m a bit surprised that, given your man’s business, there isn’t any indication of a gun having been stored somewhere in here,” Dillon commented as he glanced around the bedroom.

“Well, there have probably been a dozen groups through here before we stepped in. If there had been a weapon here, it most likely would have been acquired early on. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to head over to Special Branch.”

“Have you seen anything that stood out to you?” Dillon asked.

Suel chuckled and said, “The place just reminds me of my granddad’s home. Somewhat out of date, in need of a cleaning, and comfortable. When do you think the last time was that the bed sheets had been changed?”

“Either Christmas or Easter,” Dillon guessed. “I’m with you. Let’s head over to Special Branch. It will be interesting to see what they came across when they went through the office.”

They checked the rooms looking for Burke but didn’t find him, so they went downstairs. Burke was standing in the middle of the sitting room, talking on his cell phone. Dillon gave him a wave and pointed toward the front door. Burke nodded, waved back, and continued his phone conversation.

Once outside, Suel said, “I’ll see you in the office. I’m going to stop for petrol on the way back.”

“See you when I see you,” Dillon said and climbed into his car. His home was on the way, and he parked in front and let Lucifer out into the front garden. Tara’s car was still parked in her drive, and all the vehicles in the lane appeared familiar, so it didn’t look like she had visitors. After ten minutes, he encouraged Lucifer back into the house with a biscuit and then drove over to the Headquarters building in Phoenix Park. He parked in the secure parking lot, didn’t see Suel’s car anywhere, and headed inside.

He stepped into the empty Special Branch office and settled in at his desk. He brought up the file listing the items secured from the Higgins investigation. It became immediately clear that most of the items had not been listed yet, which meant that spending Sunday afternoon here was basically going to be a waste of time. He googled the name Brady Higgins and began going through a number of articles on the man. A half-hour later, Suel stepped into the office carrying a decent-sized paper bag.

“Well, it’s about time. I thought you may have decided to go home and take a nap,” Dillon called out.

“Don’t tempt me. You learn anything?”

“Yeah, most of the evidence hasn’t been processed yet, which means they won’t get to it until sometime tomorrow. I’ve been reading online about your man Higgins. He seems to have been a decent sort, at least based on the articles. What do you have there?” Dillon asked and gave a nod to the paper bag under Suel’s arm.

“I thought lunch might be in order, and then, based on what you just said, maybe we can eat and head out until tomorrow.”

“I think that makes sense. What’d you get, fish and chips?”

“Much as I would have liked that, I was thinking of you and got tacos from the stand in Phoenix Park.”

“Bless you,” Dillon laughed.

“Let’s dine in the break room,” Suel suggested, and Dillon followed him.

While Suel spread out the tacos and chips, Dillon got a tea and a coffee from the machine, then settled in at the table with Suel. They chatted over tacos, and, being familiar with the quality of the tea and coffee from the machine, neither one touched their cups.

Once finished with lunch, Dillon dumped the drinks down the sink and tossed the paper cups into the trash. He turned off his computer, and they headed out to their cars. The Sunday afternoon traffic was light. Dillon drove home, turned onto St. Pappin’s Road, and two blocks later turned onto Dean Swift Road and headed to his house. He immediately noticed a black car, a Porsche Cayenne, parked in front of the drive where Tara’s car was parked, essentially blocking her from pulling out and going anywhere. As he passed her house, he saw Tara standing in her open front door, involved in what appeared to be a conversation with a somewhat aggressive man who was standing about six inches away from her and pointing his finger at her. The man was wearing a blue button-down shirt and gray trousers. Dillon could hear his voice but couldn’t make out what, exactly, the man was saying.

He pulled into his drive and sat in the car for maybe a half minute, debating if he should get involved. As he opened the car door, he heard the man’s voice. The tone wasn’t pleasant. Dillon closed his car door, thought for half a second, and walked over toward Tara’s.

“You’re not listening to what I said. I called you three different times last night, and you never answered. You haven’t answered my phone calls for the last week. I don’t like that, Tara. You’re pissing me off, and when I get mad, I—”

“Excuse me. Is everything all right?” Dillon called out. He was standing in front of the wrought iron gate leading into Tara’s front garden.

The man looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Private conversation. This doesn’t concern you. So get your ass back to where you came from before—”

As Dillon pushed the gate open, he said, “I don’t know what your problem is, but you should probably leave and calm down somewhere else.”

The man spun around with his eyes flaring and faced Dillon. “Just what in the hell are you going to do about it? I’ll give you one chance to get your dumb ass out of here before I—”

Dillon pulled the cell phone out of his pocket, aimed it at the man, and took a picture. “Now I’ve got you on file. You should really leave before this gets any worse, please,” Dillon said in a gentle voice, which he knew would only encourage the man.

The man was now red-faced and glaring. “You stupid knacker, you just don’t know when to stop. You’re interrupting a private conversation. Last chance,” the man said as he hopped off the front stoop and took three or four steps toward Dillon.

“Barra, please just leave. I told you before I don’t want to see you. Please, just leave,” Tara said as she stepped out of the house and onto the front stoop. It was then that Dillon noticed her watery eyes and the red bruise on the left side of her face. She’d apparently been slapped and hard.

“Shut your bleedin’ mouth, you stupid whore. I warned you, you dumb feck,” he growled as he raised his fists and approached Dillon, turning sideways and taking on a fighting stance.

“Please don’t,” Dillon said in as calm a tone as he could muster.

The man made a jab with his left fist. Dillon took a half step back just as the man took a swing toward Dillon’s head with his right arm. Dillon caught him by the wrist, extending the man’s right arm, then slammed the heel of his left hand into the man’s elbow. There was an audible snapping sound, and the man began to scream just as Dillon spun around and delivered his left elbow into the bridge of the man’s nose, breaking it and cutting the scream short as the man dropped to the ground.

Dillon stepped over him and hurried toward Tara. “Are you okay?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around her, and she began sobbing against his shoulder.

“Oh, I didn’t know what he was going to do. I was too frightened to move, and I—”

“He hit you,” Dillon said, pulling her back and studying her face. “Are you okay?”

“I am now.”

“It’s okay. Listen, why don’t you go into the house, and I’ll deal with this.”

“Promise me you won’t—”

“Tara, I’m not going to do anything except help him into his car and make sure he drives away. That’s all.”

“Don’t arrest him. Please don’t. It will just mean more trouble for me, for both of us, and I just want him to go away. Please?”

“Okay. I’m just going to help him into his car, and he can drive away. I promise.”

“Thank you.” She sniffled and then stepped back into the house. She stood in the open doorway and watched as Dillon slowly helped the man to his feet.

His right arm hung limply at his side, and he was bleeding profusely from his nose. Blood was all over the front of his shirt and splattered on his trousers. Dillon took hold of the man’s left arm and led him to the Porsche. He opened the driver’s door, and as the man groaned and slowly settled into the driver’s seat, Dillon pulled the wallet from the man’s back pocket. He removed the driver’s license and tossed the wallet into the car.

He leaned down next to the man and said in no uncertain tone, “I got your name and your address. If I ever see you again, I’ll do some real damage to you. Now get the hell out of here before I call An Garda Síochána and have you arrested.” He slammed the driver’s door closed.

The man looked at Dillon for a moment as blood continued to flow from what remained of his nose. Apparently, he thought it might be a good idea not to say anything. He started the car and slowly headed up the lane, clearly having trouble steering while he shifted. He turned at the corner and almost got broadsided by a car that screeched to a stop and leaned on the horn.

Dillon walked back to Tara’s front door. The door was half-open. He stepped inside and called, “Tara?”

“In the kitchen,” she answered. Tara was seated at the kitchen table with a box of Kleenex in front of her. She held a plastic bag full of ice with a dish towel wrapped around it pressed against the left side of her face. She looked up at Dillon, and her eyes immediately began to tear up.

“I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have seen that. You shouldn’t have had to—”

“Relax, Tara. Don’t worry. It’s all right. He’s gone, and he won’t be back.” He kissed her on the top of her head and said, “If you need anything, you just call or come over to my place. I’ll be there the rest of the day. Don’t worry. You’re all right, and you look just as beautiful as ever.”

She squeezed his hand and half-whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“Just to be on the safe side, let me take a picture, please. You never know. He might try to sue you or me for assault.”

“Oh, I don’t think—”

He pulled his phone out and took a picture of her with the ice pack. “Okay, lower the ice pack. This is for your own protection. If you want to keep him away, this will have much more influence than me knocking him down.” She gave a disgusted look but lowered the ice pack. Fortunately, the left side of her face was still red, and he took two more pictures. “Okay. Don’t worry, now, not another word. I’m going to leave you with your ice pack. Call me if you need anything. I mean it.” She gave a little nod. “I’m going to lock the front door behind me. Do you need anything before I go?”

She shook her head. He planted another kiss on her head and headed for the front door. Once he closed the door behind him, he double-checked to make sure it was locked and then walked back to his house.

He checked the lane a half-dozen times over the afternoon and evening. Fortunately, everything appeared to be all right. He debated calling Tara but instead walked over to her house. The lights were off everywhere but in her bedroom on the second floor. He did a quick check of her car. Everything looked fine, and he headed back to his house. He slept fitfully and was up before his alarm went off.

To be continued . . .

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The Good Neighbor.

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Books by Mike Faricy

Crime Fiction Firsts

A boxset of the first four books in four crime fiction series;

Russian Roulette; Dev Haskell series

Welcome; Jack Dillon Dublin Tales series

Corridor Man; Corridor Man series

Reduced Ransom!; Hot Shot series

Available on Amazon, just click the appropriate link.

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The following titles comprise the Dev Haskell series:

Russian Roulette: Case 1

Mr. Swirlee: Case 2

Bite Me: Case 3

Bombshell: Case 4

Tutti Frutti: Case 5

Last Shot: Case 6

Ting-A-Ling: Case 7

Crickett: Case 8

Bulldog: Case 9

Double Trouble: Case 10

Yellow Ribbon: Case 11

Dog Gone: Case 12

Scam Man: Case 13

Foiled: Case 14

What Happens in Vegas… : Case 15

Art Hound: Case 16

The Office: Case 17

Star Struck: Case 18

International Incident: Case 19

Guest From Hell: Case 20

Art Attack: Case 21

Mystery Man: Case 22

Bow-Wow Rescue: Case 23

Cold Case: Case 24

Cash Up Front: Case 25

Dream House: Case 26

Alley Katz: Case 27

The Big Gamble: Case 28

Bad to the Bone: Case 29

Silencio!: Case 30

Surprise, Surprise: Case 31

Hit & Run: Case 32

Suspect Santa: Case 33

P.I. Apprentice: Case 34

Rebel Without A Clue: Case 35

Puppy Love: Case 36

Online Affair: Case 37

House Guests: Case 38

The following titles are Dev Haskell novellas:

Dollhouse

The Dance

Pixie

Fore!

Twinkle Toes

(a Dev Haskell short story)

The following are Dev Haskell Boxsets:

Dev Haskell Boxset 1-3

Dev Haskell Boxset 4-6

Dev Haskell Boxset 7-9

Dev Haskell Boxset 10-12

Dev Haskell Boxset 13-15

Dev Haskell Boxset 16-18

Dev Haskell Boxset 19-21

Dev Haskell Boxset 22-24

Dev Haskell Boxset 25-27

Dev Haskell Boxset 28-30

Dev Haskell Boxset 1-7

Dev Haskell Boxset 8-14

Dev Haskell Boxset 15-19

Dev Haskell Boxset 20-24

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The following titles comprise the Jack Dillon Dublin Tales series:

Welcome

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 1

Sweet Dreams

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 2

Mirror Mirror

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 3

Silver Bullet

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 4

Fair City Blues

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 5

Spade Work

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 6

Madeline Missing

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 7

Mistaken Identity

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 8

Picture Perfect

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 9

Dublin Moon

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 10

Mystery Woman

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 11

Second Chance

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 12

Payback Brother

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 13

The Heist

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 14

Jewels to Kill For

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 15

Retirement Scheme

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 16

The Collector

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 17

Missing In The Emerald City

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 18

The Good Neighbor

Jack Dillon Dublin Tale 19

Jack Dillon Dublin Tales Boxsets:

Jack Dillon Dublin Tales 1-3

Jack Dillon Dublin Tales 4-6

Jack Dillon Dublin Tales 7-9

Jack Dillon Dublin Tales 10-12

Jack Dillon Dublin Tales 1-5

Jack Dillon Dublin Tales 1-7

Jack Dillon Dublin Tales 6-10

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The following titles comprise the Hotshot series;

Reduced Ransom!

Finders Keepers!

Bankers Hours

Chow Down

Moonlight Dance Academy

Irish Dukes (Fight Card Series)

written under the pseudonym Jack Tunney

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The following titles comprise the Corridor Man series:

Corridor Man

Corridor Man 2: Opportunity knocks

Corridor Man 3: The Dungeon

Corridor Man 4: Dead End

Corridor Man 5: Finger

Corridor Man 6: Exit Strategy

Corridor Man 7: Trunk Music

Corridor Man 8: Birthday Boy

Corridor Man 9: Boss Man

Corridor Man 10: Bye Bye Bobby

Corridor Man novellas:

Corridor Man: Valentine

Corridor Man: Auditor

Corridor Man: Howling

Corridor Man: Spa Day

The following are Corridor Man Boxsets:

Corridor Man Boxset 1-3

Corridor Man Boxset 1-5

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