Bombshell dh-4 Read online

  Bombshell

  ( Devlin Haskell - 4 )

  Mike Faricy

  Mike Faricy

  Bombshell

  Chapter One

  “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 Summits,” across to the bartender.

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

  “I look like the Cosmo type?”

  “Yeah, I knew it as soon as I saw you. You’re 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 other’s 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.” Then 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 long haired 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 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, and then added “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 Martini, your cheapest bar pour. I better have another Summit, too,” I said to the bartender.

  “She’s onto Martini’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. 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.”

  Chapter Two

  I was sitting at Nina’s nursing a coffee, watching the early morning crowd squirt a sugar substitute into their lattes and cappuccinos. Aaron LaZelle, lieutenant in vice with St. Paul’s finest sat across from me. I decided to speak my mind.

  “You know, with you making the exorbitant amount you do as a senior member of the police force you’d think you could at least spring for coffee. I’m a taxpayer after all.”

  “Do we really want to get into the taxes you pay. I know a few IRS guys, this time of year they got a little time on their hands. They could check into it, do an audit or two and make sure you’re not paying more than your fair share.” He looked around, stared at an attractive dark haired woman in tight jeans and a T-shirt waiting in line to place an order.

  “On second thought, thanks but no thanks. Like your caramel roll?”

  “Always,” he replied.

  “You know anything about women’s roller derby?”

  “You mean where they skate round and round with jams and jammers, they’ve got those great names and look really hot.”

  “Clearly you know more than me.”

  “Actually I don’t, it’s been years since I was at one of those. Pretty fun if I recall. I think they actually do a lot of charity work.”

  “Charity work, like praying and stuff?” I said.

  “Yeah, that’s right, they conduct a prayer service. No they fund raise, donate a lot to food banks, maybe a kids program, the kind of stuff you’d be really involved in.” He shook his head, looked back at the same dark haired woman, she’d moved forward in line a couple of spaces.

  “I like kids and shit.”

  “Yeah, sure you do. Admit it, you like the mommies.”

  “Well yeah, that too.”

  “You doing something with roller derby? No offense, but couldn’t most of them kick the hell out of you?”

  “I met a girl last night, she does it, the derby I mean, nice girl.”

  “Well then she won’t be interested in you. If she was so nice what was she doing in one of the sleazy joints you frequent?”

  “God, it was the Dew Drop, I still haven’t gotten my hearing back.”

  “What were you doing in that place?”

  “Wasting time and money. You know you have to pay a cover charge just to get into that place so you can spend more money on overpriced, bullshit drinks?”

  “Yeah, I’d guess you’re a little out of their usual demographic, but once you’re inside you’re with the beautiful people.”

  “I think I was one of the few straight guys in there.”

  “Not surprising, excuse me for a minute,” he said. Then got up and walked over to the counter just as the dark haired woman was picking up her coffee.

  “Kristi,” I heard him call, but then couldn’t hear anything else. The look on her face suggested Aaron might be saying something a little more official than hello. They stepped outside, I could see her through the front window standing on the sidewalk, nodding, shaking her head, nodding again. She suddenly leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek, nodded a few more times, waved and walked down the street. Aaron watched her for a long moment then strolled back in.

  “Business?” I asked.

  “Manner of speaking,” he said, then stuffed the last of the caramel roll into his mouth and licked the tip of his thumb and forefinger.

  “She a working girl?”

  “Sign of the times. Architect by training, escort by necessity. She’s a nice kid, I played hockey with a couple of her brothers.”

  “So are you checking her pricing or what?”

  He shook his head, glanced around the room.

  “No, just told her we got a sting coming up, working the Internet, told her to watch out and be careful.”

  “When does it start?”

  “It doesn’t, nothing like that in the works, the only thing we got coming up is budget cuts.”

  “So why’d you tell her…”

  “It’s like pulling someone over for speeding, everyone else slows down. Same deal, I’m just reminding her to be careful. You know how much architectural work is out there right now? Zero.”

  “So she’s got an online ad?”

  “An ad? No, a website, takes credit cards, they all do, that’s the business now. You were telling me about the Dew Drop.”

  “Yeah, you remember Carol?”

  “Is she the Kindergarten teacher?”

  “Kindergarten? No, that chick dropped me six months ago. Carol does something with the state, I forget what, I can never remember the department. Anyway, we went there to meet some of her pals.” I told Aaron about the noise, the dancing, Carol leaving with the French guy, Nicholas and me meeting Justine at the bar.

  “Sounds perfect, Carol dumps you and you meet someone else before she’s out the door. You are a real piece of work, buddy.”

  “Yeah, well anyway, I’m gonna give this Justine a call. And, I should probably play the wounded lover with Carol, try for a final sympathy roll in the sack.”

  “God knows that doesn’t happen too often in your life.”

  “Actually, I think this could be a first.”

  I walked the half block back home from Nina’s. On my way I called Carol, ready to play on her sympathies, tell her how heart broken I was.

  “Bon Jour, I’m unable to take your call just now, please leave a message, Merci.”

  I didn’t mean to leave a sigh as my message on her cell, it just sort of came out that way. She was already learning French? I’ll give you some Merci, I thought, then climbed in the car and drove to my office.

  I had three days worth of verifying job references for a small company staring me in the face. Times being what they were the company was overwhelmed with applications from qualified people. My job was to check out employment histories and references. It amounted to a lot of drudgery and very little romance, just like life at the moment.

  I’d been looking out the office window for maybe forty-five minutes, staring at St. Kate’s coeds waiting for the bus and watching people dash into The Spot for lunch. A liquid lunch, The Spot didn’t serve food. I was telling myself I should do the same when my phone rang.

  I put on my best ‘feeling down’ voice and answered.

  “Haskell Investigations,” I said. I pictured Carol pacing back and forth in the hallway of some State building, embarrassed, afraid of what I might say. She’d probably spent the better part of the morning working up the courage to call me, wondering if I’d hang up as soon as I heard her voice.

  “Hi Dev, Justine. You know from last night, are you free to talk?”

  “Justine? No, I mean yes, yeah.”

  “You sure, I don’t want to interrupt.”

  “Nothing that can’t wait.”

  Outside the Randolph bus had just pulled away. It would be at least twenty-five minutes before any more women would be waitin
g. On my desk I had a mountain of boring applications to wade through. I had time, plenty of time.

  “Okay, as long as you’re sure.”

  “Yeah, nice to hear your voice, I was going to give you a call.”

  “Well, actually that’s maybe why I’m calling. I mean I made some team calls this morning, we’d like to talk with you, see if we could hire you for a security gig, that is if you’ve got the time. I’m really sorry, but it’s on pretty short notice, we’d need you in two days. For maybe a day and a half, tops.”

  I looked at the pile of job applications I had yet to verify. I stared at the dart board hanging on the wall, two darts imbedded in the wall about three inches to the right. The mail man had already come and gone, nothing for me except a grocery store circular, again.

  “In two days? I could probably adjust some things. I’d have to make a couple of phone calls, but I’ll just put them off and reschedule.”

  “You sure? I mean we were hoping we could sit down with you tonight, go over some stuff. I’m sorry this is all coming so fast.”

  “Tonight? I think that could work, I’ll make it work. You tell me where and when, let me make some calls and I’ll get back to you this afternoon if there’s a problem.”

  “You sure? I don’t want to…”

  “Justine, I’m moving you up to the top of the list. Can I call you back this afternoon?”

  “I really appreciate it, thanks Dev,” she said and hung up.

  I wandered over to The Spot for a liquid lunch.

  Chapter Three

  There were five of them sitting around the table when I arrived, teammates from the Bombshells having a beer. Not a Cosmopolitan in sight. Justine introduced them using their Roller Derby names.

  “Helen Killer, Maiden Bed, Brandi Manhattan and Cheatin Hart,” she said.

  Each woman nodded at me as Justine pointed. They were all attractive, very attractive. I had the feeling I was about to land the cakewalk job of all time.

  “Nice to meet you, ladies. Justine, I don’t think you ever told me your Derby name.”

  “Spankie,” a chorus trumpeted back.

  “Really? Ladies, just call me Dev. So, Justine, I mean Spankie, mentioned you had a need for my services.”