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Authors: Mike Faricy

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“See you there.”

 

Chapter Fourteen

I thought I’
d go
in early just to play it safe. I opened the office door at nine thirty. Louie was already seated at my desk behind stacks of files.

“What are
you doing?”

“Good morning.
Oh sorry, I sort of left the impression that this was my desk, and I just set these files out to make me look busy.

I
picked up a manila file folder from the nearest stack. It was relatively thick and labeled with some sort of nine digit numeric code written in black marker. The thing held maybe thirty sheets of paper, all blank. I glanced from the file to Louie.

“Are all the
files like this?”

He was
inserting a grocery store circular into a file and cramming the thing back into the middle of a tall stack.

“No
, some are thicker, some are thinner.”

“I meant blank.”

“Look, just a little window dressing. Don’t want Cazzo to get the wrong idea about us.”

“And you’re at my desk.”

“Yeah, you mind sitting at mine?”

“The picnic table?

“J
ust while Cazzo is here.”

I noticed Louie was wearing
a reasonably clean white shirt. At least it was clean before he managed to get a half dozen black marker stains across the front.

“You actually think this will work?

“Why wouldn’t it?” Louie said
then Googled the Thompson-Reuters website on his laptop.

“Want me to
ditch the dart board?” I asked.

“Just pull those
darts out of the wall and stick them in the board. Better not make them a bull’s eye, stick them in a little off to the right.”

“You’re really taking this serious.”

“Joey Cazzo is a big deal, Dev, he could get us out of hock.”

“I really don’t owe anyone.”

“Yeah, and you’re about a hundred bucks ahead of the game if things break your way every month. I’m talking some serious dough here. If all goes right with the motions I filed, it could lead to lots of work. The D’Angelos own a lot of property, of course the Tutti Frutti Club, a number of apartments. This could mean our train has finally come into the station. They even have land way up north.”

“Where they probably bury bodies…”

“Allegedly bury. Come on, last night you said you were going to be in on this.”

“I did, Louie. It’s just that you forgot to mention
you’d have a hundred fake files stacked across my desk. That fake phone there next to you with multiple lines that will never ring because we don’t have a land line in here. Then again why would we need multiple lines? Our office consists of this one room, and no one ever calls.” I looked around the office, but nothing else seemed too out of place.

“Louie, why don’t
I brew some decent coffee? When Cazzo arrives we can just tell him our gorgeous, well-endowed, young secretary is out making another deposit at the bank.”


Oh yeah, glad you brought that up, could you run across the street to The Spot and get three matching coffee mugs?”

“What?”

“We only have two mugs in the place, one’s chipped and the other is plastic. As long as we need one more don’t you think we could get three that match? And make sure they don’t have lipstick on them.”

 

Chapter Fifteen

We were staring out
the window when Joey Cazzo pulled up in some low-slung, red foreign thing that probably cost more than my house. He parked across the street then sat in the car for another ten minutes while he appeared to berate some poor soul on the other end of the phone.

“Places everyone,” Lo
uie said as Cazzo got out of the car.

Louie
hurried behind my desk, picked up the dead phone, and wedged the receiver between his chins and shoulder. He began to nod saying, “Yes, that’s correct.” He had a stack of contract forms he’d pulled off the Internet piled in front of him. He began slowly paging through them initialing a paragraph every so often, pretending to be busy.

Cazzo burst
in the door a few seconds later; the energy was palpable. He was shorter than I imagined, a hooked nose, thinning hair pulled into a sort of wispy pony tail at the back of his head held in place with a silver and turquoise clip. There was a bit of a rodent look to him. He sort of nodded at Louie. It was not so much a greeting as it was an indication to get off the phone, and soon.

“You must be
Haskins,” he said, turning and leering before attacking me with an outstretched hand. He had an East Coast accent, New York or maybe Jersey. It automatically grated on my nerves.

“Haskell, Dev Haskell.”
I said, shaking his hand.

“Yeah sure, whatever,
” he replied, giving me one of those squeeze-as-hard-as-you-can shakes.

“Get you some coffee?” I asked
. I failed to mention our new mugs from The Spot.

“Is it fresh?”

“Just made, our secretary had to run…”

“Yeah, I’ll take some. Louie,
come on let’s go, man. Time is money, you don’t know that yet? Come on, come on.”

Louie nodded at Cazzo
then said into the dead phone, “I’ll review it and get back to you. I don’t want you moving on this until you get my okay. Clear? Alright, messenger the original documents over here, and I’ll have an answer for you later today. Yes, yes. I promise. I know, the Chinese. I’ll talk to you later, goodbye,” he said then hung up the dead phone.

Cazzo stared at him like he didn’t buy the act.

“I’ll tell you, it’s taken them two years to put this deal together and now it comes down to me, and of course they need the damn answer today. I don’t know,” Louie said, shaking his head. “How are you, Mister Cazzo? Sorry to keep you waiting, have a seat there,” Louie indicated my client chair with the strip of duct tape running across the seat cushion.

Cazzo star
ed for a moment like he was sizing Louie up, but he didn’t say anything.

“Please,” Louie said, indicating the chair
with his hand.

“You get those motion
s and briefs filed?”

“Just like you said
, Mister Cazzo, I met with …”

“You shouldn’t have to do a damn thing other
than show up in court, keep quiet, and nod when they rule in our favor. Word is we’ve got this wired. Tommy will be hosting a victory party for Gino that night at the club. You’re both invited.”

I was leanin
g against the filing cabinet. Cazzo sat down then turned and directed his attention over to me. He wore a white golf shirt buttoned to the top beneath a creamy colored sport coat. The creases in his black trousers looked sharp enough to shave with. He had on a pair of woven leather loafers with no socks. The shoes had little brass buckles across the front, that look of handmade Italian leather, and probably a price tag that resembled my address. He brushed some imaginary dust from his trouser leg then said, “Be there early, Tommy wants you to meet your client before we start.”


My client?” I asked.

“Swindle Lawless.

“Swindle?”

“Lawless. She’s your new and most important client.” He tossed a file across the desk that landed in front of Louie. Four or five eight by ten color photos of a blonde woman partially fanned out of the file. She looked vaguely familiar from the little I could see.

“You’ll be investigating her agent
, local dipshit named Dudley Rockett. I want you to get the goods on him. We’ll deal with it from there.”

“Get the goods on him, this guy, what did you say his name was again?”

“You listening?” he raised his voice. “First name Dudley, last name Rockett. He was her agent and…”

“Swindle?” I said.

“Yeah, that’s right. This douche was Swindle’s agent. We’re going to get her money back, the fees, well, and some interest of course.”

“So you’re going to file a lawsuit?
” Louie asked, sounding like he was contemplating options. “Have you thought on what grounds? Misrepresentation? Unprofessional conduct? Sexual harassment or some sort of unethical…”

Cazzo stared at him for a long moment
then interrupted.

“Hell n
o, we’re not going to file a lawsuit. Haskell,” he yelled, looking over at me. “You just get the info we need on Rockett, shouldn’t be too hard. It’s all there in that file. Questions?”

“Give me some time to
review the file, and I’ll call you with any questions,” I said.

“I got a better ide
a, review the damn file then get the goods on this hose bag. I’ll expect to see you both at Gino’s victory celebration. He stood up from the chair then nodded at Louie. “I’ll see you in court.” Then he turned and exited without saying goodbye.

We
watched as he crossed the street, climbed into his sports car, put a phone to his ear, and raced off.

“What a sweetheart
,” I said.

“Yeah
, and that was his good side. Look at it this way, like I told you, more business.” He picked up the file Cazzo had tossed on the desk and paged through the photos.


Well, I’ll give her this much, she seems to have enough money to pay for a plastic surgeon,” he said, flipping through a stack of studio-shot prints. When he was finished he passed the file over to me.

“I know this woman from somewhere,” I sai
d, flipping through the photos. She was a bleached blonde sporting a surgically enhanced chest. I guessed a good deal of nose and chin work along with a lot of Botox in that face.

“S
he some stripper in one of those joints you go to?” Louie asked.

I shook my head.

“Escort?”

“No, she’d be out of my pr
ice range. Just kidding, no I’ve seen her recently.” I was thinking hard when it hit me. “The Tutti Frutti, that’s it. She was there that night Heidi and I were there, one of the women your pal Tommy D’Angelo had his arm around.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, she sort of gave me the look.”

“The look?”

“Yeah, but I was with Heidi, and I think this gal was pretty wasted. You know the look, that kind of an “Interested?” sort of smile and glance.”

“Actually
, no, can’t say I’m familiar with it.”

“Doesn’t ma
tter. Like I said, I was on Heidi duty that night. By the way, who names their baby girl Swindle?”

 

Chapter Sixteen


You’re kidding, Dev, Swindle
Lawless isn’t her real name. That’s her stage name or was, she legally changed it back in ninety two.” Aaron LaZelle spit some caramel roll crumbs in my direction as he talked. He and Detective Manning had loaded up on two rolls each along with giant Lattés to the tune of close to twenty bucks. They stuck me with the tab. I was indulging in serious chocolate overload from a large brownie. It was just after seven in the morning, and we were seated at a back corner table in Nina’s coffee shop.

“S
tage name? What the hell does she need a stage name for if she’s a waitress,” I asked.

“And she’s your client?” Manning half laughed. “Maybe you should sit down with her and get some background information.” He
handed my file with the studio shots of Swindle over to Aaron.

“Yeah that’s her,” Aaron said.
He quickly fanned through the photos then passed the file back to Manning. He took a sheet of paper from his suit coat pocket and unfolded it. There was a black and white image of a woman vaguely resembling Swindle’s studio shots in the upper right corner, or maybe it was her mother. I guessed it was probably a booking photo, Swindle without makeup, looking hung over, burnt out, or both. Not a very pretty sight.

“Given name wa
s Muriel Kedrowski, born in St. Paul fourteen September nineteen seventy four. Let’s see, she’s got two arrests for solicitation, one for shoplifting, another for indecent exposure. There was an assault charge back in two thousand five.” He looked up at me, smiled, and continued. “Two thousand six she was charged with passing bad checks. She was nailed for driving under the influence in two thousand seven. Possession of a controlled substance in two thousand eight, charges dropped apparently. Another solicitation charge in two thousand ten, charges dropped on that one, too.”

Manning
snorted then tossed the file of photos on top of what was left of my chocolate brownie. He seemed to enjoy the fact that the sticky frosting smeared all over the back of the manila file.

Aaron gave him a glance
, but didn’t say anything.

“So what you’re telling me is she’s pretty much straightened up her act
, if she hasn’t been convicted since her DUI in two thousand seven.”

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