Bombshell (Devlin Haskell 4) (14 page)

“Not to worry
, I paid that one
months ago,” he said.

“Great,
but
that doesn’t make your car less of a rolling dumpster.
God forbid you ever have the opportunity to chauffer around someone worthwhile…”

“You mean as opposed to you?”

“Exactly,” I said.

We were heading up Kellogg, turning left at the
History
Center
at the top of the hill,
then right at the Cathedral continuing W
est down Selby
with the sun in our eyes
. I’d be home in three blocks. After my day
being interrogated
and now Louie’s car I was debating if I should toss my clothes in the trash or just burn them as hazardous waste.

“Oh, oh,” Louie said pulling up in front of my place.
He ground a good quarter inch off the side of
his tires
rolling against
the
curb before he
came to a stop.

Crime scene tape crisscrossed the front door
, y
ellow tape, maybe four inches wide
with large black letters, all capitols, CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS.
There was a red n
otice taped to
the inside
of
the glass on my
front door.
I could read the heading from the street,
No Admittance
By order of th
e Saint Paul Police Department
“Are you kidding me?
” I said.

“Doesn’t
look like anyone’s kidding.”

“That God damn Manning, he knew about this,” I said. “This is his idea of a joke.”

“I’d say h
e’s got a pretty lousy sense of humor
. What’d you ever do to him?”

“I’ve no idea, believe me.”

Crime scene tape crisscrossed my
double
garage
and there were two
more red notices taped to the
garage
door just
in case I missed one.

Fortunately
,
I’d been deliberately
over—
served
the night before
and rather than thread a path up my
driveway I’d parked at the curb across the street.

“You need a place
to land, tonight?” Louie asked, “I got a recliner
,” h
e said,
still staring at
the yellow
tape fluttering against my front door
.

“Thanks
, but I’ll be okay
.” I’d spent a night or two in
Louie’s
recliner
,
before I ever did that again
I’d sta
ke out a park
bench
.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, see what we can do to get this place opened up for you,” Louie said.

“Yeah,
you bet,
” I didn’t sound all that sure.

“Come on
,
it won’t be that bad, we’ll get it worked out. Sure
you don’t need a place to land
tonight?”

I nodded
,
then groaned
as I crawl
ed
out
of
Louie’s passenger
door. I
st
uck my head back in the window.

“Thanks for the help, today, Louie. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Take care man
,” Louie said, then accelerated down the street, a bluish
cloud of exhaust
roiled up around me and
drifted
down the street
in
the
wake
of his Sentra
as he drove off
into the setting sun.

I decided there was no point wasting time calling Justine
. So I phoned Carol hoping that French guy had dumped her
by now
and I could scam a place
with benefits
to stay for the night
. She answered almost immediately
;
“Oui,” she said
,
sounding just a little too cheery.

“Hi Carol, Dev Haskell.”

“Oh
,”
she suddenly sounded decidedly colder and followed up with
a long pause. I blinked first.

“Just checking in, wondered if you were doing anything tonight.”

“I’d apprec
iate it if you wouldn’t call me
again,
” she said, then hung up.

I tri
ed Kristi, but my cell displayed a ‘number blocked’ message
.

Naomi’s number had been changed with no further information available.

I left a message for Patti
,
but she was probably still pissed off about the
little
cigar burn I left on her
great—
grandmother’s
heirloom dining room table.
I didn’t hold out much hope.

I reluctantly phoned Heidi Bauer. I didn’t want to
,
but I was pretty much out of options.

“Hello,” she sounded
happy
.

“Hi Heidi, Dev.”

“Yeah,”
she said,
suddenly
cautious.

“Hey,
I realize it’s
pretty
short notice
,
but I was
just checking to see what you’re up to tonight.
”

“
What I’m up to? R
eally? You mean you don’t want something, bail money, a ride somewhere?”

“Man, when did you become so cynical?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe after getting y
ou out of a half dozen different jams
, posting bail, retrieving various cars from the impound lot, hiding you from the authorities, sooner or later even I start to catch on,” she said.

“Look I know it’s late, I’ve just
been working a lot, had a half
way open night, wondered if you wanted to get together, that’s all. If it’s going to present a problem I can call another time.” I hoped I didn’t sound to
o
desperate.

“I suppose you’d expect
a late dinner?” she said
, softening
.

“Actually, I
was
thinking I w
ou
ld pick something up
, what do you feel like?”

Twenty-five dollars worth of
Chinese take-out
and four bottles of wine later I pulled up in front of Heidi’s. She opened the front door as I came up the walk.

“Well, at least you parked in front so you’
re not
hiding, this time.”

“Why do you think there has
to be something wrong before I want to come over and see you? Can
’t you just accept the fact
I
enjoy your company?
I
thought maybe spending an evening
listening to your conversation would be reward enough.”

“Yeah, that’s what you’re after
,
my
conversation.
”

“That might be part of it,
find out
what you’ve been up t
o? W
ho
you
’re
seeing? W
hen…”

“Just stop. I’ll figure it out sooner or later and you’ll be busted, but for right now come on in. Pork fried rice, right?” She blocked the doorway and nodded at the grocery bag full of little white containers.

“And dim sum,” I added.

“
Okay, g
et your ass in here,” she said
,
stepping aside.

As was our custom we ate
directly
out
of the containers. Heidi ate all her dim sum then moved
on to mine.
I made a point of never letting her glass go empty. She
had
finished the better part of three
bottles of wine when she attempted to make
grasshoppers for dessert, that didn’t work so
well under the circumstances so
we moved on to
the
bed
room course
.

“Oh God, what kind
of
cheapo
wine was that?
My head’s killing me,
” Heidi groaned from under her pillow.

“Couldn’t have been the three
bottles you had,” I said.

“You were drinking, too.”

“I had a glass to every one of your bottles. That was before you decided to make the grasshoppers.”

“Grasshoppers?”

She
lounged in bed
groaning
for another forty minutes
,
working up the co
urage to face the day.
I tried to get something
romantic
happening with the proverbial back rub, but it didn’t work. Eventually we climbed out of bed an
d wandered out of her bedroom
.

M
y clothes
were scattered around the living room
.
As I pulled on my jeans I heard Heidi in the kitchen.

“God, I don’t remember any of this,” she said
. She was
standing naked in the
middle of the room
.
You could tell she was running through her memory files and
they were
all coming up blank. E
ven hung over she
still
looked
beautiful.

I couldn’t say that much for
the
kitchen.
Almost a dozen
little
white
take-out containers littered the
granite
counter
top
.
Bits of rice were scattered
here and there, a half eaten dim sum.
There were two wine glasses, one was still partially full and the other, sporting a half moon of lipstick, had been drained
dry
.
Three empty wine bottles stood on a distant counter next to the refriger
ator, a fourth lay
on it
s side
and had rolled
up against the microwave
, barely a swallow left inside
.
We had left the ice cream out on the kitchen counter, next to her underwear.

Heidi stared
at a
puddle of melted ice cream that had dripped onto the kitchen floor.
The blender had a sort of
green g
lop sitting in it and judging from the spray pattern across the kitchen wall she must have run the thing with the top off.

“
Not to worry, y
ou made up for it in the bedroom
,”
I said
.

“Apparently. W
ant some breakfast?” she said, placing an aspirin bottle on the kitchen counter then filling a glass up at the refrigerator tap.

“What have you got for breakfast?”
I asked.

“I don’t know, any
of that
pork fried rice left?”

Unle
ss we planned on eating puff
ed rice cakes
and melted ice cream
,
I knew better than to check for any food in her house.

“I’ll
go get us
something, how’s that sound?”

“And a Latte, a double,” she pleaded.

I was driv
ing back from the coffee shop, arm
ed with four caramel rolls and H
eidi’s double Latte when my cell phone rang.

“Haskell
In…
”

“Where
the hell
have you been, dipshit?”

“Mom?” I asked.

“I’ve been
trying to call
you for the past hour and a half,” Louie said.

“Sorry, I was in a meeting.”
Thinking I should have check
ed
my phone when I pulled my jeans on.

“Sure you were, listen as your attorney,
let me state,
I don’t want to know. I spoke with t
he good Detective Manning
about your place.”