Alley Katz (Dev Haskell - Private Investigator Book 27) Read online

  My phone rang just before midnight. I was on my third cup of coffee from a twenty-four-hour joint. Since I figured it would be Annette, I didn’t bother to check who was calling.

  “Hi Annette, you decide to come back out?”

  “Oh, how absolutely charming,” Gladys said. “Well, at least now I can put a name to the slut you were groping last night or is this someone completely new?”

  “No, wait, Gladys, you got it wrong. I’m out driving. I’m working a case actually, looking for a guy.”

  “Yeah, sure you are, Dev. You were going to come over this afternoon at four. I understand you may be busy, although God only knows what you’re doing at four in the afternoon on a Sunday, but you’ve pretty much answered all my questions. You go ahead and keep doing whatever in the hell you’re doing. I’m sure it’s important.”

  “Hold on, Gladys. See, I’ve been helping this kid who—”

  “Oh, a child from a previous relationship? Well, no real surprise there. But then why even bother to mention it to me? You stood me up this afternoon, and now you decide to drop that bomb on me. We are so done, Dev Haskell. Do not ever call me again. Ever!” She shouted and disconnected.

  Nothing like dealing with someone who’s understanding. I kept driving around, looking at people. Occasionally, I slowed down, thinking I might have spotted Taylor, but that never turned out to be the case. Through it all, I kept replaying Gladys’ most recent phone call. To be honest, it didn’t really bother me, and in no time, I began to feel as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Based on her order never call her again, all that did was provide me with more time to search for Taylor tomorrow.

  It was close to three in the morning when I pulled into the driveway. Morton was asleep in the back seat, and I gently woke him. I had an outside hope that Taylor might be waiting for us inside but no such luck. The note I’d placed between the door and the doorframe remained untouched. I shoved the note in my pocket and unlocked the door.

  Morton wandered in and slowly made his way upstairs. I walked into the kitchen, got the coffee ready for morning, and headed up to my bedroom. Morton was in the guest room, staring at the empty bed. He gave a little whine and looked over at me.

  “Yeah, I know what you're thinking Morton. I’m missing him too. Lets go to bed.” Despite all the coffee I’d been drinking, I think I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I must not have moved for the rest of the night because I woke in exactly the same position just minutes before my alarm was set to go off.

  I checked my phone just in case someone had called with a Taylor sighting. No such luck. I showered, shaved, pulled on my jeans and a clean shirt, and headed downstairs. I couldn’t google Taylor because I only had his first name, but I tried anyway. I sent Louie a text message giving him a quick update on Taylor and told him I would be out all day searching for the kid. I sent Annette a text and told her I didn’t have any luck but to call me anyway. I sent Barbara a text message and asked her to call me.

  Morton drifted downstairs a little later. I gave him an exceptionally long head scratch since we both seemed to be in the same frame of mind, missing Taylor. I let him out into the backyard and got his food and water ready.

  My phone rang a couple of minutes later. Based on my call from Gladys last night, I checked to see who it was. Unfortunately, it was Tubby Gustafson.

  “Good morning, Mr. Gustafson.”

  “Save the happy act for someone who cares, Haskell. What do you have?”

  “What do I have? A headache. I was out until three this morning searching and didn’t come up with anything. I’ve looked all over town, but he seems to have simply disappeared. I don’t know where else to look, but I’m determined to find him. I can’t believe he left town. It’s not like he’s got any transportation.”

  “Transportation? You Moron, I told you he stole Lyle’s car.”

  “Lyle’s car? I don’t think he even knows how to drive, let alone have a license. How did he steal Lyle’s car?”

  “When he attacked him with that bowl of hot grease or whatever it was, that’s when he grabbed his car keys and stole the car.”

  “How in the hell did Taylor attack Lyle? When? Where? Why?”

  “Haskell, what in the hell are you talking about?”

  It suddenly dawned on me I was on the wrong page. I’d been so focused on Taylor that I’d completely forgotten about Tubby Gustafson and Eli Cummings.

  “Haskell, get your worthless ass over here now. I want to see you within the next thirty minutes. Do you understand me?”

  “I do, sir, but I’m afraid I’m involved in something else at the moment. As soon as I get this matter cleaned up, I’d be happy to—”

  “Listen to me, you worthless piece of— Let me put it this way, Haskell. Either you get over here now, or I’ll put a price on your head that will cause you to spend the rest of what few days remain in some wretched hole in the ground.”

  “But sir, if I could— Hello? Hello, Mr. Gustafson?”

  Tubby hung up. I let Morton in and encouraged him to finish breakfast quickly. Ten minutes later, we were driving down to my office. I opened the bottom drawer on my desk and grabbed the sticky holster with my pistol from the cigar box. I stuck the holster in my belt, left a quick note for Louie, and we hurried out the door.

  I pulled into Annette’s driveway twenty minutes later. She answered the door, wearing a white bathrobe and fuzzy pink slippers. “You here for breakfast?”

  “You have enough to spare?”

  “Come on in,” she said and headed back into her kitchen.

  As she poured me a mug of coffee, she said, “So if you’re here, I’m guessing there isn’t any good news.”

  “A major league screw-up on my part. I got an irate call from Tubby Gustafson earlier this morning. He asked me what I had concerning the investigation I’m supposed to be doing to find Eli Cummings. Since I was dealing with about three hours of sleep, my mind had me thinking he was talking about Taylor.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, I told him I was out till three in the morning looking for him. He told me Eli stole a thug’s car. I said he couldn’t drive, thinking Taylor again. Anyway, it got to the point where he said, if I didn’t get over to his place in thirty minutes, I would be dead.”

  “Well, I’m sure he didn’t actually mean that.”

  “Are you kidding? Annette, this isn’t some nice guy we’re talking about. This is Tubby Gustafson. Believe me. He doesn’t kid around like that.”

  “So, what did he say when you went over there?”

  “That’s the whole point. I didn’t go over there. I don’t believe it. I’m going to have to go into hiding just like Taylor. Everything just keeps getting crazier and crazier.”

  Annette shook her head. “Well, no offense, but if you want to continue to try to find Taylor, you’re going to have to deal with Mr. Gustafson first.”

  “You’re talking about mission impossible here, Annette. No one tells Tubby what to do. No one tells Tubby no. If they do, it’s just about the last thing that will come out of their mouth. I’m telling you, the guy is an absolute nutcase.”

  “Yeah, and he’s your client.”

  “Believe me, that’s not by design.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to deal with it, Dev. I mean, I wish I could help, but obviously, I can’t. The sooner you deal with this, the better off it’s going to go for you. He still needs someone to find Eli Cummings, and that’s your strong card.”

  Unfortunately, Annette seemed to be making sense. I pulled out my phone and made the call.

  “What?” Tubby answered.

  “I’m on my way over to see you. Stuck in traffic at the moment,” I added in an attempt to buy a little more time.

  “You’d better get your worthless ass over here and fast, if you know what’s good for you, Haskell,” Tubby said and disconnected.

  I turned off my phone and shoved it back in my pocket.

  �
�There, now was that so bad? What did he say?” Annette asked.

  “He just told me to drive carefully.”

  “See, things are already starting to look better. Call me when you're finished talking to Mr. Gustafson. You know, it may make sense to ask him if he has any idea where Taylor might be. You know, with his, ummm, background, he just may have an idea where a kid like Taylor might be hiding.”

  “I’ll be sure to ask him. I’ll call you when I get out of there,” I said, dreading the thought of having to deal with Tubby.

  “You did the right thing, Dev. You’ll see, he’ll probably welcome you with open arms,” she said and gave me a little peck on the cheek.

  Open arms, yeah, only to strangle me.

  Chapter 32

  I hurried out of Annette’s house and sped toward Tubby’s palace. Every time the wheels turned, I seemed to dread the meeting just a little bit more. The drive seemed to go all too quickly, and before I knew it, I was climbing out of my car and pressing the button on the intercom at Tubby’s front gate.

  “Well, Haskell, back for more. Good luck with that,” the voice answered, laughed, and the gate suddenly began to open.

  Great, apparently, everyone had been alerted to my pending arrival. They’d probably set up some way to tape my beheading and use it as a warning to anyone who even thought of crossing Tubby in the future.

  I climbed behind the wheel and drove up the circular drive to the parking area. The usual two thugs were leaning against the house, enjoying the shade on the front porch. By the time I parked, placed my pistol in the glove compartment, and climbed out of the car, one of them was standing at the rear of my car.

  “You must be a glutton for punishment, Haskell. Suit yourself. Assume the position,” he said.

  I leaned over the trunk of my car, and he patted me down, twice. “Okay, you’re good to go,” he said.

  I walked over to the front door, where his partner patted me down. “Lucky you. You get to go inside,” he said and laughed.

  He opened the door, and I stepped inside. Squiggy was reading a comic book. Probably the same one he was reading the last time I was here. He looked at me, shook his head, and pushed his bifocals up the bridge of his nose. He stood, grabbed the black and yellow wand, and I assumed the normal position with my legs spread and my arms out at shoulder height.

  “Okay, you’re good to go. You know, Haskell, I’d normally tell you this is your lucky day, but you know better than that. Follow me,” he said and set off across the entryway. He was knocking on Tubby’s office door a moment later.

  “It’s about damn time. Send him in here,” Tubby growled as Squiggy opened the door.

  “Good luck,” Squiggy half-whispered as I hurried past and headed into Tubby’s office.

  I’d seen Tubby in this situation before, his massage hour. He was stretched out on a table that must have had steel I-beams for legs to support his massive weight. Dimpled flab from his stomach and sides hung over the edge of the table. Thankfully, a white towel covered his large, flabby rear end. His eyes were closed, and his pitted nose, the size of a baked potato, was red. No doubt due to the exertion caused by the two Asian women massaging his hairy shoulders. Both women were clad in black lace thongs and, at no surprise, latex gloves.

  “Damn it, Haskell, you've set my schedule back by a full hour,” Tubby said, keeping his eyes closed. “So where in the hell is he?”

  “You mean Cummings, sir?”

  The redness from his nose suddenly seemed to infect his cheeks. Still keeping his eyes closed, he growled, “Just why in the hell would you be here if it wasn’t to give me an update on Cummings? You seem to have plenty of time to run around town at all hours of the night, no doubt enjoying yourself. So, where is he?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I’m continuing to search, but if you’ll recall, after Lyle’s break-in, I was forced to start back at square one.”

  “Oh, yes, now I remember.” He looked up at one of the women. “Bao, if you would be so kind as to provide Mr. Haskell with a taste of what he’s been missing.”

  The smaller of the two women bowed toward Tubby lying on the table. Her partner said something in a language I couldn’t understand, and they both giggled as she approached. She was a demure woman, well-endowed, with dark brown eyes. I couldn’t help but stare. She raised her eyebrows and smiled as she stepped in front of me and bowed politely. She reached out and gave my shoulders a little rub just before she spun around, raising one of her gorgeous legs, and connected her heel with my nose.

  I sailed over an end table next to the leather couch and landed on the floor. Pretty little Bao strutted over. As I rose on all fours, she kicked me in the ribs, flipping me over onto my back.

  “That will be enough for now, Bao,” Tubby said, raising his shoulders and fat head. “Let me warn you, Haskell. Don’t you dare bleed on my rug. Now get the hell out of my sight and do not come back until you have that worthless piece of shit, Cummings, in your possession. Do I make myself clear?”

  I attempted to focus on Tubby, but with the room spinning, it was difficult.

  “Well, do I?” Tubby shouted.

  “Yeah, I mean, yes, sir,” I said and began to crawl toward what I thought was the door.

  “Haskell, once again, you’re headed in the wrong direction. Bao, lead him the hell out of here,” Tubby said. I was still attempting to focus when someone, I presumed Bao, grabbed me by the hair and led me toward the door. I attempted to crawl fast enough to keep up. She suddenly jumped on my back, laughed and slapped the back of my head as I crawled forward. She hopped off, opened the door, and then kicked me hard in the rear, knocking me into the hallway. The door slammed closed behind me.

  “All finished?” Squiggy asked a minute or two later. I was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with my head tilted back. He didn’t comment on my bloody face. “Here, let me help you up,” he said and extended a hand. He led me down the hall, across the entryway, and out the front door.

  “How did it go,” one of the thugs leaning against the front of the house asked, and both of them laughed.

  I ignored them and slowly headed to my car. I pulled out of the parking place and cautiously drove toward the front gate. As I approached, the gate slowly opened. I pulled out onto the street and drove home. I parked in my driveway and, for the first time, looked at myself in the rearview mirror.

  My face was covered with blood, some of it still dripping off my chin. My nose was swollen to almost twice its normal size and now seemed to be situated at about a forty-five-degree angle. I gently placed both hands on either side, added pressure, then forced the bridge more or less back into position, letting out a scream as I did. The flow of blood picked up its pace, and I tilted my head back and sat there behind the wheel for a good half-hour, breathing through my mouth.

  When I phoned Annette ninety minutes later, the first thing she said is, “Dev, you sound like you have a cold. How did your meeting go?”

  “Not to worry. I didn’t learn anything I didn’t already know.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning Tubby is an awful person, and I shouldn’t have wasted my time going there.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’d just as soon not go into it right now. I’m going to go check out the high school, and hopefully, I’ll see Taylor there.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Oh, thanks for offering, Annette, but I’m pretty much out of options.”

  “Oh, Dev, I wish there was something I could do for you.”

  “Yeah, so do I. Look, if anything changes, you’ll be the first person I call. Thanks for all your help and support thus far, and I mean it. You’ve been great.”

  “Well, thanks, that’s kind of you to say. You’re sure I can’t—”

  “Yeah, thanks, hopefully, Taylor is at the high school. I’d better get going. I’ll chat with you later.” I ran inside, changed shirts, and carefully patted a wet washcloth on
my face.

  My head continued to throb as I drove over to the high school. I parked in the parking lot and pulled out a pair of binoculars from the glove compartment. At 2:46, the doors to the school flew open, and a mob of teenagers blasted out of the building, anxious to flee the scene. I searched the crowd through my binoculars for the next ten minutes but never saw anyone who resembled Taylor.

  I attracted more than a little attention looking through binoculars with two pieces of rolled-up toilet paper stuffed up my swollen nose. I focused my swollen, black eyes on the second surge of kids coming out of the building when there was a knock on the driver’s window. I turned and looked at a police officer then quickly glanced the other way and saw his partner standing at a discrete distance in a position that suggested he was ready to draw and fire.

  I lowered my window and said, “Can I help you, officer?”

  “Yes, sir. You can keep your hands where I can see them and step out of your car.”

  “I was just looking for a friend and—”

  “Please, sir, I’d like to do this the easy way. It would appear you might like to avoid another contentious discussion,” he said and made a general nod toward my nose and eyes.

  “Yeah, sure, I’m getting out. I’m going to place these binoculars on the passenger seat if that’s all right.”

  “Yeah, but nice and slow, okay.”

  I followed his instructions and slowly set the binoculars on the passenger seat.

  “Thank you,” he said, opening my door. “Now, if you’ll step out and assume the position.”

  How many people got told that twice in the same day? I stepped out of my car, placed my hands on the hood, and spread my legs. When he was finished patting me down, he cuffed my hands behind my back, pulled the wallet from my pocket, and led me into the back seat of his patrol car. There were only about two hundred kids standing around. A couple of them were chanting, “Lock him up!” to the collective laughs of the crowd. If Taylor had been anywhere in the vicinity, I was certain that, by now, he had headed in the opposite direction.