Authors: JJ DeCeglie
Drawing Dead (14 page)
I was awoken all of a sudden by an inhuman hammering on my front door. The sun was up already and it clawed my eyes as soon as I opened them. Now came the best part, as soon as I stood up I got the rush of a prejudiced hangover slung at me.
Yeah, I was hurting.
Hurting real bad.
I had to make way to the nearest sink and throw up red, white and blue. Followed by the appalling dry heaving, all the while those assholes wouldn’t quit trying to smash my door down. I drank some water from the faucet above the sink I’d vomited in and then went and put a pair of shorts on.
When I looked through the door I could see it was the cops, even though they were plain clothed dicks they still had enough off an air of jerk-off to give’em away.
Because they were cops I went back and took a handful of painkillers from the cupboard and swallowed them with some more water direct from the faucet. Both to piss them off some more and to prepare myself for the impending assault. Then I ambled back up and finally opened the door. Fuckers crashed through it when I did. I knew it had something to do with Evie, I just wasn’t sure what.
You Jack Andrelli?
No…I’m Michael Jordan.
The fuck’s he talking about?
There were two of’em. Both big bullish bastards. One was more restrained than the other.
He’s a smartass.
Oh is he?
Yeah I am...so what?
The less restrained jerk-off pushed me with a sharp prod in the shoulder. Fucking Dirty Harry over here.
You gonna come easy dickhead?
Depends on where we’re going.
I knew the answer, I just couldn’t help being a wiseass.
You’ll see dickhead, you’ll see.
Then the other one pipes up.
Go put some clothes on would ya, we wanna get this done before lunch.
You buying?
Me being an asshole again. They were getting sick of it fast. I was impressing myself with the serration of my wit considering how shitty I was fucking feeling.
This guy doesn’t quit.
I got serious, mostly because I felt that I may faint if I didn’t take a cold shower soon.
Say, what’s this all about anyway?
We’ll tell ya when we get there?
Dirty Harry prodded me again, this time in the chest. They could play the game too, he was warning me.
Just let me wash my face then.
Sure dickhead, go for it. Just don’t take all morning. And put some fucking clothes on like my partner here asked you to.
If you girls want a coffee just help yourselves.
I called it out as I went back in. All I heard was the distant confusion.
The fuck did he say?
I washed up and dressed leaving them in the doorway waiting awhile. It was gonna be question time in town but I couldn’t see where I fit in. By the time we were driving the tabs had worked some magic and the nausea had all but left after I’d stuck my fingers down my throat a couple of times back at the house before we left. It was a sun spangled day and the grass and roads and trees were in form and sparkling. I wished I had enough left in me to give a shit. They were straight at me once we were in the room and the tape recorder was on. Like alternating jabs from a boxer trying to wear me down in the ring. The one guy sat, while Dirty Harry lurked about the room in wait.
You know Jack a really beautiful woman went missing last night, we think she was probably murdered.
What woman?
Her name is Evangeline Lorenzi; we found your name and number in a notebook she had in her handbag. The handbag was in the hotel room she was maybe murdered in… but you probably knew that didn’t you Jack.
Dirty Harry threw the notebook on the table. There was my name and number alright, clever little cunt.
What hotel?
Where were you last night Jack?
Drinking.
By yourself?
No. You call Larry Chenko. He was at my joint drinking with me some of the night.
You blow each other while you were at it?
Dirty Harry had said that whilst behind me creeping about in stealth. The other guy really didn’t seem too bad in comparison, only half an asshole. He picked up the police file that was sitting on the table and handed it to Harry. It was mine and he started flicking through it like he’d never seen it before.
I'm looking at this file here Jack. You were a citizen a long time ago. Studied literature at university? How’d he fucking manage that? Oh you didn’t, you flunked out. Things really turn to shit though don’t they Jack. Drunken disorderly, mayhem, resisting arrest, assaulting a cop, withholding evidence. Associating with known felons. Three hundred bucks owing in public urination fines.
Pissing in public, well, what I can say fellas, very good policing there, you fucking got me.
There was a knock on the door and then another cop just went ahead and let himself in. He whispered something into the Dirty Harry’s ear and he smiled wide like this guy had told him ‘No Harry, your dick ain’t as small as everyone says it is, look right here son, I got the stats to back this shit up too!’. This other guy walked out and then returned. This time he had another man with him, well more so a kid, about twenty-four maybe, mouth pursed like he was constipated and had been for days. I figured him for the night man at the hotel we’d played it out in and stared right at him without blinking. He scrutinized me for about five seconds and the shook his head saying.
It’s not him, he was bigger, much bigger.
You bet he was.
Get him outta here.
I gave them both a big smile, Harry first and then the other.
You’re still a murder suspect asshole, that don’t mean shit.
Can I go?
Hold up a minute there Jack.
I knew what was coming. He’d held it for now and pretended like he’d just happened upon it in the file still sitting there in his hand. He was a prize motherfucker this guy.
You’ve been a murder suspect before I see. Girl died in your house huh, suspicious circumstances, alotta blood, played out as suicide in the end but you probably did right Jacky, killed her too didn’t ya, you must be getting pretty good at it by now, this murder thing, comes easy when you practice…she was your girlfriend huh.
All the talk about Lexy was getting me pretty steamed. I kept my cool for the moment though, all I did was smile.
Am I supposed to psychologically implode now?
I don’t know, I’m just saying, that’s all…
Saying what?
I’ve got a degree you know Jack, I actually finished it unlike you shit for brains, it’s in criminal psychology and I got it on those mean streets.
Like I said, a prize motherfucker.
I got a degree myself.
Yeah?
Yeah…it’s a Masters in Suck My Dick Faggot.
Dirty Harry didn’t appreciate that one.
I think you killed Evangeline Lorenzi…and I think you killed your girlfriend.
You mention my dead girlfriend again and you’re gonna be unhappy about it you fucking asshole.
What was her name…Alexis… nice name… pretty…did you make plans together, shit like that…oh look at this she was only…
By then I’d had enough.
The red mist settled in my vision like a fresh and fine blood spray.
My ears were ringing with a swarm of looming locusts.
The switch had flicked and that was that. I kicked the table full force so that it cannoned into his thighs and sent him lunging forward at me, then I took a handful of hair and punished his head hard as I could into the top of it three times over. The other asshole just sat there stunned and Dirty Harry went to ground groaning like he was gonna give birth.
He came up raging, a monster from the sea, bleeding from the nose, mouth and the gash above his eye. It was dripping all over place like an overfilled cup of coffee. I swore out loud because of what I’d done and thought to myself ‘Shit…this’ll cost ya’.
When he went for me the other asshole restrained him and yelled for help. It took three people to get him outta there. Coughing and bleeding, spitting and swearing at me simultaneous. After the tape was played back to a senior officer I was let go. Whole thing took about ninety minutes. I threatened that I’d go to the media with the whole thing. Not sure what actually happened behind closed doors and on first retrospection thought they may have bought the whole newspaper, television bullshit I’d spun. Though with further thinking it was more likely old Dirty Harry had a bad rep and was on a warning of some sort. He’d done this kinda thing happen before, though probably he’d dished out the pain and not taken it. Even more likely was that his partner was sick of this shit and had said so. Had refused to doctor some story that got their asses out the fire. I’d just got lucky was all.
There was nothing more to it than that.
There never really is.
And I’ll tell ya kiddo, it was about fucking time.
Some rookie drove me home and didn’t say boo the entire trip. In return I did the same. The light had turned milky on account of some clouds around the place now and as a result everything was a shade more dramatic. I got him to drop me at a coffee shop just round the corner from my house. Said ‘Thanks Madam’ and was ignored by him. There was a payphone out front and after a double espresso I called Chenko and set a meet for an hour’s time. I walked it the long way to my car still parked there on the street behind my house and jumped the fuck in.
Drove around the place some to see if I had a tail but it seemed the cops had set me free for now. Such nice assholes. The razor-sharp remnants of that hangover were still in my blood so I stopped off for a sixer of cheap but very good Indian beer.
I’d drained two by the time I’d parked the car.
We skipped the beach this time on account of it being too hot to be near and met in public so as to convene with the alibi I’d given earlier and which we’d decided on the day before. It was a café in North Fremantle. I sucked another beer down while I waited for Chenko to arrive. I could feel the load coming on. I was early and he arrived on time. We walked in together after he had declined a parking lot beer like he was all of sudden too good for it. Spit in his mother’s milk then. I updated him as we went. Inside first thing I did was order one anyway. Chenko got coffee. The place was licensed and it was why I dug it so much along with the fact that every one of girls who worked there was at least an eight outta ten.
You see this?
If it’s pictures of you naked again Chenko I’ll pass my friend.
He slid a printed off news update over to me.
It’s all over the internet, will be in the papers tomorrow.
There was picture of Evie all lovely and blameless along with a detailed reconstruction of what had possibly occurred. The story went just as I had planned it. Everyone remembered her from the poker game. She had drunk too much. Had driven off anyhow. Was seen going into her hotel room with a tall, well built man. Said man left with nothing but the same suitcase he had entered with. The cherry on top was my name right there in the fucking article. So much for a low profile.
There’s more…
Chenko was twirling his moustache, which usually meant a development, or if you were a girl he wanted to screw ya.
What?
Rumblings about a chunk of money stolen.
Where?
Melbourne. Was meant for the cleaners but got jacked in transit.
How much?