Bite Me (Devlin Haskell 3) (25 page)

The following afternoon I
went to the KRAZ post office box about two minutes before the post office closed. I checked the box through the little window, it was empty except for a single sheet of folded paper.

“What can I do for you?” the guy behind the counter asked. I was pretty sure he was the same guy who locked the door and hit the lights at the end of the day.

“Box fourteen-seventeen, I got all the way down here and forgot my keys. Can you help me?”

“Are you authorized?”

“Yeah, K-R-A-Z, Thomson Barkwell and me, Farrell Early.”

“Do you have some I.D
.”

I flipped open my wallet, my
scanned photo taped on Farrell’s license, hiding behind a grimy little plastic window. The badge sat next to it. I counted to myself, at three he looked up at me, down again at the badge, then back up. “Not a problem, fourteen?”

“Fourteen-seventeen, K-R-A-Z.”

“Let me get it for you.”

It felt like an hour, in actuality it was more like three or four minutes. He
was whistling the tune, ‘Crazy’ when he returned with a large, white plastic box with metal handles. The thing was about the size of a case of wine bottles and stuffed to overflowing with envelopes.

“Looks like it’s been a while, there were so many we cou
ldn’t fit them into your P. O. Box anymore,” he said, hoisting the container onto the counter and pushing it across to me.

“O
ut of town for a bit, thanks, appreciate your help.”

“Let me lock up behind you,” he said and held the door for me as I walked out.

By the time I was getting in the Fiesta he’d turned the lights off and had closed for the day.

Sitting at the kitchen counter it took me the better p
art of an hour to open the envelopes and remove the cash. I reminded myself more than once that every time I opened an envelope I was committing a Federal Offense. I removed a little over eight grand cash, the majority in tens and twenties, a couple of fifties. I spent the next two hours shredding envelopes and notes.

The following afternoon I
went to the bank, exchanged the cash for hundreds. Then drove two trash bags of shredded paper to the recycling center over on Pierce Butler Road. On the way back I stopped at The Trend.

Just like before I was stopped twenty feet in
side the door by Terrance and some other giant.

“Terrance, I’m here to see Walter, make things right.”

Terrance didn’t so much as blink, then he took a step back so Walter could look at me.

Walter nodded and
reached for his coffee cup.

“Another ice cream truck?” Walter asked when I stood in front of him.

“No sir, just here to pay off my debt, is all.”

“Don’t,” he cautioned, as I reached into my pocket. “Terrance will deal with that. Anything else?”

“Nope, nothing, other than thanks, Walter, couldn’t have done it without your help.”

“So I hear. Listen, y
ou stay in touch, Dev.”

I smiled, followed Terrance outside and down the street. We’d walked the better part of a half block, we were behind a bus shelter filled with squirming kids when Terrance stopped.

“Just shake my hand,” he said.

I palmed six grand, not an easy thing to do, and shook Terrance
’s hand, the cash seemed to disappear in his large paw. Then he turned and continued on his way. I walked back to my Fiesta, got in and drove home.

When my
phone eventually woke me the sun was almost down. Scattered clouds drifted in the sky, their edges a vibrant pink from the final moments of sunset. I answered my cell, prostrate on the couch.

“Haskell Investigations
.”

“Hello
, Dev.”

“Who’s this,” I asked,
afraid I knew.

“I need someone to rub
lotion on my back, interested?”

“No, not really
, Kiki.”

“
Oh come on, you’re not mad are you?”

“No Kiki, I’m not mad
.”

“Hey, thanks for the drinks the other night. How’s the head?” she said.

“
I guess I’ll live.”

“
Only because I let you,” she said, then cackled and hung up.

I checked the front and back doors, they were locked. I pushed
a chair up against them just to be on the safe side. Then dug in my wallet, pulled out Amanda Nguyen’s business card and dialed the number.

“Hello.”

“Hi Amanda, this is Dev Haskell. Please, don’t hang up.”

“What makes you think I’d do that?”

“Just the way things have been going lately, I…”

“From what I hear they’ve been pretty much going your way all of a sudden.”

“Yeah, actually they have, that’s kind of why I called.”

“Oh
really,” she laughed. “I suppose you’re looking for that sucker I promised.”

THE END

If you enjoyed Dev’s adventures in
Bite Me
, check out the sample of
Bombshell
just after my thank you and list of other available titles.

Thanks for taking time to read
Bite Me
. If you enjoyed this book please tell 2-300 of your closest friends and don’t miss these Mike Faricy titles,
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y Grand

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(A Dev Haskell Novel)

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(A Dev Haskell Novel)

Bite Me
(A Dev Haskell Novel)

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(A Dev Haskell Novel)

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Here’s a Free sample from
Bombshell
, happy reading;

“I’ll have a
pint
of Summit and a Cosmopolitan,” I said, with all the thumping music in the place I had to lean halfway across the bar just to give my drink order.

The bartender nodded, maybe gave a slight sigh, I wasn’t sure.

“That Cosmo for you?” a woman next to me asked, then yelled “Two Summit’s,” across to the bartender.

She stood about five three, brown hair, glasses, very nice figure. She had on really tight little shorts and black hose patterned to look like slinky nylons and a garter belt.

“I look like the Cosmo type?”

“Yeah, I kne
w as soon as I saw you, figured probably a big
‘Sex in the City’
fan. I’m Justine,” she said and held out her hand.

“Dev.”

Her eyes bored into me as I held her hand. The music fired up again, so loud we had to speak into each others ear. We were in danger of getting body slammed by a half dozen twenty-something girls jumping up and down behind us. They were shaking their hair, waving their hands over their heads. Screaming “woo, woo,” as they twirled around.

“You come here often? You don’t really look the type,” she half shouted.

“Woo, woo,” the girls screamed, oblivious to all but themselves.

“I’ve managed to avoid this place thus far, not exactly my style. I knew I was in trouble as soon as I had to pay the cover charge at the door.”

She nodded toward the beer and the Cosmopolitan landing in front of me. I handed the bartender a couple of fives.

“Twelve-fifty,” he mouthed the words.

“Twelve?”

“Twelve-fifty,” he seemed to smile at the joke.

I gave him another five and shook my head.

“Apparently she’s got expensive tastes. Maybe you should think about finding a girl who likes beer.”

“Fortunately she has some good points, too,” I said into her ear.

“Don’t we all,” t
hen she gave me that stare again.

I raised my pint glass in a toast to Justine, knocked a couple of inches off the top and carefully picked up the Cosmopolitan.

“Be good,” I said.

“I have a lot more fun when I’m bad.”

“You’re telling me,” I said then thought it might be a wise idea to retreat to my table.

I delivered the Cosmopolitan to my date, Carol. She was nestled into a gang of girlfriends all talking about stars whose names I didn’t recognize. Each one
held a different colored, overpriced drink in front of them. I reached over the shoulder of some longhaired guy who had taken up residence on my stool and handed Carol her Cosmopolitan.

“Watch it, you’ll spill,” she snapped, then turned and shook her head at the guy on my stool. He smiled back at her, gave his head a shake to send his hair back over his shoulders, then used a finger to push misbehaving strands behind each ear.

“Dev, this is Nicholas, he’s from France,” Carol yelled over the noise.

I nodded and figured Nicholas was attracted to Carol by the same things that had attracted me.

“Dev, get Nicholas a drink, will you. What are you drinking?” Carol screamed and then placed a hand on his wrist just as the music stopped.

“There is French beer, no?” Nicholas said, looking up at me hopefully.

“I don’t think so.” I said.

“No Caracole? No Saxo?” He sounded put out.

“No. Summit, Leinenkugel, Grain Belt and they got Guinness.

“Pity. French beer is the very best” Nicholas directed this toward Carol.

Carol smiled like she understood, like it was a fact everyone automatically knew, nodding as if she had a refrigerator full of French beer in her kitchen.

“Oh, I just love your accent,” she shrugged. “Maybe you’d like a Cosmopolitan?”

“I think I may try the martini, yes?” he said, suggesting he’d never had one before.

“That sounds so cute.”

“A martini?” I figured that would be at least six bucks.

“Yes, a vodka Martini, a double.” He sounded like he may have ordered one before.

“A double?” I asked.

“Where are the olives from?”

“The olives? A jar.” I was liking Nicholas less with every passing second.

“Dev, stop it. Just go
and get Nicholas his martini.” Carol glared, then added a disgruntled, “please,” as an after thought.

“And two olives,” Nicholas reminded.

Carol gave me a look that said, ‘
Don’t even think of causing a scene
,’ then turned back to focus on Nicholas.

“Double vodka m
artini, your cheapest bar pour. I better have another Summit, too” I said to the bartender.

“She’s onto m
artini’s now?”

It was Justine, again. Actually, I was glad to see her.

“No, some jackass took my stool and somehow I end up buying him a drink, French guy.”

Justine looked over my shoulder and took a long sip from her beer. She moved to say something in my ear and brushed firmly against me.

“That guy with the long hair and the big ears?”

I hadn’t noticed the ears, but now that she mentioned it, “Yeah.”

“He’s chatting up the girl in the red?”

“Yeah, the one with the dreamy look on her face.”

“I’m guessing those aren’t her God-given attributes.”

“You can tell that from across the room?”

“Hello, yes, God they’re fakes,” she said and shook her head.

“Yeah, they are, but that never really bothered me.”

“Ten bucks,” the bartender said, setting Nicholas’s martini down in front of me.

I handed him a twenty. The look on my face must have given me away.

“Just isn’t shaping up to be your night, is it Cosmo?”

“Not exactly. Can you stay put for a minute while I deliver this to Pepe Le Pew over there?”

“Yeah, promise you won’t be long.”

“Not a problem, believe me.”

“Merci,” Nicholas said, quickly grabbing the drink out of my hand.

“Be careful, Dev, God you’ll spill again. Did he get any on you, Nicholas?” Carol said.

I could only hope, but didn’t wait for an answer and wandered back to Justine at the bar.

“So how long are they here?”

“Actually, she’s with me, so…”

“I got a beer says no way.”

“What?” I gave a shrug, then turned to look at Carol, she was laughing, stroking Nicholas’s arm. She saw me, raised her almost empty glass, signaling for another Cosmopolitan.

“Whoa, better get on that,” Justine said.

“Maybe not yet. You here alone?”

“More or less.
” She glanced over her shoulder toward a group of women dancing, they all wore headbands with little red devil ears attached. One of the women wore a white veil and a sign around her neck that read ‘Child Bride’. She was twirling round and round in the center of the group. None of them seemed to be feeling any pain.

“So what do you do?”

“I’m a medical assistant by day. But at night, I’m a derby Bombshell, baby.” She cocked her hip, struck a pose and fluttered her eyes at me.

“Hunh?”

“Roller Derby. I skate with the Bombshells.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, it’s really fun, don’t tell me you didn’t notice I was a Bombshell? What do you do?”

“You mean when I’m not getting drinks for jerks? I’m a PI.”

“PI?”

“Private Investigator.”

“You mean like a detective, like in the movies or CSI?”

“Yeah, exactly, only about a thousand times duller.”

“Do you carry a gun?”

“Sometimes.”

“Can I see it?”

“Fortunately I left it at home, otherwise I would have blown my brains out about three minutes after coming into this place.”

“You know, do you have a card? We might have a need for your services.”

I dug a card out of my wallet, handed it to her.

“Devlin Haskell, Private Investigator,” she read.

“That’s me.”

“So you find people and stuff, solve mysteries and crimes?”

“Sometimes, like I said, it’s a lot more boring than the movies.”

“Think you’ll be able to find your date?”

“What?” I turned to look at two empty stools where Carol and Nicholas had been sitting. I couldn’t spot them out on the dance floor.

“You might be able to catch them if you hurry.”

“I got a better idea, I think I owe you a beer if I recall.”

“You do.”