The Devil's Dwelling Read online

  To my husband Jay, who encouraged me to write.

  I love you Jaybird.

  THE DEVIL’S DWELLING

  Tiffany Turner

  Bounty Hunter

  By Jean Avery Brown

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTERS

  ONE THROUGH FORTY

  ONE

  I tried to keep my head covered drowning out the ringing. I pushed Bailey out of the way turned over and peeked from the covers. That’s when I noticed it was my phone dancing on the night stand. I crawled over Bailey, my German Shepherd mix roommate. Bailey keeps me company on my bond enforcement duties. I grabbed the phone. I couldn’t shake the cobwebs from my head but I was sure it was Peewee, my boss summoning me to hit the pavement.

  My name is Tiffany Turner. I work for Peterson Bail Bonds. Peewee bails out a lot of Faulkner County’s miscreants. Peewee is a head shorter than my five feet seven frame, a receding hairline, with a gap between his front teeth. He can usually be found behind his desk chewing on a stogie with his feet propped on top his desk. He doesn’t have a clue who his dad might be. I heard his mom hung around the Carnies when the Carnival came to town.

  I happened to be munching on donuts and gulping down a carton of milk at Tasty Donuts next door to Peewee’s office. Peewee and his business associate dissolved their partnership and Peewee was in need of a bond enforcer or as some call us ‘Bounty Hunter‘. Peewee saw my Blazer parked in front of his office and figured I might be right for the job. I’d been working as a Process Server for a couple of years and was familiar with the territory and most of the undesirables in Faulkner County.

  I live in a dilapidated apartment building on the wrong side of the tracks. The exteriors brown plaster is peeling off the facade in chunks. My second floor apartment faces the railroad tracks and a warehouse. I can look down to the parking lot from my bedroom and keep an eye on my rig and the hoods hanging around. Eighty plus year old Mr. Sinclair is our resident watch dog. Knowing I’m a Bounty Hunter he keeps up to date on the ‘no shows‘ I‘m looking for. You might say he is living vicariously through me.

  “Marty Martin is missing and didn‘t show up for court. I need you on this one right away. He is up for drug trafficking and his bail is a hunk of change. You need to bring him in. If we don‘t bring him in my pocketbook is gonna hurt.”

  I dropped the phone in it’s cradle, set up in bed stretching my arms to the ceiling. “ The clock radio blasted with Elvis singing ’Jailhouse Rock’. I slapped it and the music died. My feet followed the worn painted wood floor to the shower. While I waited for the shower water to warm up I brushed my teeth, pull my long curly red hair up in a clip and by this time the shower water was inviting me to join in on the splashing. I took a look at my oversized tee shirt with a Razorback on the front, pulled it over my head and tossed it in the hamper. The Razorback is the mascot for the University of Arkansas. Everyone who’s anybody in Arkansas has a Razorback tee shirt.

  I jumped in the shower, the water was invigorating as it hit my body. I lathered up and made a once around, rinsed off and hopped from the shower. I wrapped my body in a towel and opened the window and hung half way out pulling my makeshift clothes line in to retrieve my pink bra and bikini panties. I dropped the towel and powdered from head to toe. Swiped my roll-on deodorant twice across my arm pits. Put my arms through my bra straps, hooked and adjusted my breast to give the best cleavage mother nature gave me. I stepped in my pink bikini panties and slipped my slim body in jeans and a tank top and pulled my curly red hair up in a ponytail. Wiped lipstick across my lips, smacked my lips together and called it good.

  I dropped a slice of bread in the toaster. While standing at the counter I balanced on one foot and pulled on my boots. I hit the toaster and the toast flew through the air landing on the floor. Bailey snatched it up and devoured it with one gulp. The three second rule doesn’t apply when Bailey is around. I grabbed the loaf of bread, untied the twisty tie and put another slice in the toaster. This time before I hit the toaster to pop up I guarded it with my hands. Pop, it landed in my hands. I slid my knife into the Chez Whiz jar and brought out a hunk of yellow gooey cheese, wiped it across the toast and took out a big bite. Chez Whiz is my main food staple and has been since I was a kid. You can always find a jar in my cupboard. I was chewing on my first bite when I noticed Bailey pacing at the door. Bailey was ready for his trip to the park and isn’t too happy about waiting. I put the toast in my mouth, took my jacket from the hall tree put one arm and then the other in the sleeves and zipped it up. I jerked the leash from the hook on the wall, hooked Bailey up and he dragged me down the stairs and we headed straight to the park.

  It was a brisk morning. Colorful leaves had fallen over night and the City of Conway’s street sweeper was making its rounds. Bailey hiked and pooped. I picked up his present, trashed it and we were on our way back to the apartment.

  We jogged back to the apartment. Ran up the stairs and took my Glock from the night stand, checked to see if it was loaded and dropped it in my overstuffed handbag. I threw the strap across my shoulder and was out the door and down the stairs with Bailey at my heels. I hit the fob unlocking the doors, opened the back door and Bailey hopped in. I took Bailey’s water bowl from the back of the Blazer and filled it with fresh water and set it in the cargo area of the Blazer. Just as quickly I backed out of the parking space and headed for the office.

  Peewee’s office is on Main Street sandwiched between Tasty Donuts and Bella’s Bar and Grill. Early morning the aroma of donuts lingers throughout the office. Linda the receptionist slash filing clerk usually has a box of donuts and a pot of coffee brewing on the side counter.

  A tacky neon sign flashes across the front of the building competing with other bail bondman’s in town. The flashing sign catches the eye of those looking to make bail for someone as they leave Conway County Jail and Courthouse which is situated across the street. Peewee signed his lease for the office ten years ago with the stipulation, no other bail bond office could open on the block. He also has an option when his lease is up. Mr. Webster owns all the building across from the County Jail and Courthouse giving Peterson Bail Bonds with the best location in town.

  I slid into the parking space using the curb for my brakes fanning Ole‘ Lady Simpson‘s skirt tail as I came to a stop. Mooney, my mechanic and pretend boyfriend promised to fix my brakes weeks ago. Promising is one thing and doing is another.

  “Girl, you almost hit me.” Ole’ Lady Simpson snapped rolling her eyes up in her head.

  “This is your lucky day.” I retorted.

  “Tiffany, you have a smart mouth. I’ve a mind to call your Momma.”

  I rolled the back windows down for Bailey to get fresh air and ward off anyone wanting to steel my Blazer. If anyone gets within five feet of the Blazer Bailey’s fur on the back of his neck stands up and he gives them a big toothy grin. I grabbed my bag threw it over my shoulder and walked around Ole’ Lady Simpson with her tongue continuing to shoot off nasty remarks and making obscene gestures with her ring finger. The story is she can’t officially give ‘the bird’ since her middle finger joint is all flipped out from over use.

  I walked into the office and there set Linda powdering her nose . Linda , the receptionist wears low cut tops, even though she doesn’t have anything to reveal, always a big flower behind her ear holding back her long black hair and smells of lilacs. She is all of five feet five in her stiletto heels.

  Linda snapped her compact shut. Leaned back in her chair as she pulled her middle desk drawer open, placed her compact in the drawer and leaned forward closing the drawer and wiggled her finger pointing toward the office door.

  “Peewee’s been waiting for you. He’s pacing back and
forth.”

  “Peewee called me this morning. Marty Martin was a ‘no show’ for court.” I told Linda as I grabbed a donut, poured myself a cup of coffee and headed for the back office where I found Peewee setting at his desk looking over Marty’s file.

  Peewee’s desk is dotted with stogie burn marks, a bobble head doll of Elvis, a plant in need of some TLC, an ashtray overflowing with old stogies, a coffee cup with a picture of Elvis on the side filled with pens, ruler, sharpie, scissors, a nail clipper and probably crude from what I don’t want to imagine in the bottom. A large calendar Peewee uses to keep track of his appointments and serves as a desk pad covers half his desk. The wall behind his desk has three life size velvet pictures of Elvis. Peewee picked them up in Tijuana, Mexico, on one of his elaborate vacations.

  “It’s about time you got here. Marty Martin’s wife Maxine is worried about him and I‘m pissed off he was a ‘no show‘ in court yesterday.”

  “Any clues, to where he was last seen?” I said with a mouthful of donut. I wiped my hands on the napkin laying on Peewee’s desk and continued to chew the donut from one side of my mouth while I talked.

  “ She said she dropped him off two days ago downtown at ‘The Oasis Bar’. He had a meeting with a guy he called Curly. That’s about all she knows.”

  “You got a picture of him?”

  “She said we could pick one up today. Here’s Marty’s file. You get on this one pronto young lady. There could be a big bonus if you bring this one in.”

  It’s up to me to hook and reel them in. Peewee gets all the credit for the capture. Me, I get a check and that’s my motivation to get up and out the door everyday. Bailey gets his bowl filled with his favorite dog food and plenty water to drink and that’s all he requires.

  Linda buzzed Peewee over the squawk box. Peewee is not into the new technical office equipment. He doesn’t have a computer. I can’t even get him to use a day planner.

  “Peewee, there’s a lady here wanting to apply for a job. I told her you weren’t in need of anyone but she insist on seeing you.”

  Peewee took his thumb off the button, looked over at me for the go ahead to see her.

  “I could use some help. The ‘failed to appear‘ files are stacking up on Linda‘s desk.”

  He pressed the button. The squawk box spit and sputtered.

  “Send her in.” Peewee leaned back in his chair and I listened for the inevitable snap of his chair that would tip him over onto the floor.

  In walked Mona dressed in spandex, black patent leather boots up to her knees, tight black micro mini skirt and a hot pink top stretched across her bosom gracefully sliding off one shoulder. Mona is a total spandex woman. She is built like a brick shit house. Peewee’s eyes rolled and the drool dripped from the corner of his mouth. Mona’s long slim legs accentuate her small waist, while balancing a pair of double ‘D’s that haven’t been introduced to gravity. Her long bleached blonde hair is parted in the middle sweeping her shoulders as her head turns from side to side. She’s a ten count knock out.

  “Hello, I’m Mona Miller, I’m looking for a job.” Her Juicy Fruit popped when she spoke. She smiled and rolled it to her jaw with her tongue and licked her lips.

  “Have a seat. I‘m Peewee.” He stood to reach across the desk tip toeing to greet Mona.

  Peewee set back in his chair and inconspicuously checked her out. His peepers lingered at her double ‘D’s.

  Mona wiggled and pulled at her skirt as she sat on the edge of the chair. She vaguely inferred she had previously worked for a detective agency. Previous detective work, and double ‘D’s was enough for Peewee.

  Peewee introduced me as one of his Bounty Hunter‘s. Hell, I’m his only Bounty Hunter.

  “You got the job. I’m going to team you up with Tiffany. Tiffany is starting on a new case and you might as well start with her.”

  I looked over at Mona wondering what I was getting into. “Let’s be up front. I work and work hard at my job and I expect the same from you. You get where I’m coming from?”

  Mona gave me an affirmative nod.

  “I’m out of here.” Intimated by the gorgeous blonde I threw my handbag strap across my shoulder and headed for the door. Mona didn’t make a move. I stopped short of the door and turned to Mona.

  “Hey, Honey we are on the clock let‘s get with it.”

  “You want me to go with you now?” Mona’s mouth dropped open, her eyes bugged out.

  “No better time than now. Where are you parked?”

  “I walked here I don’t have wheels.” Mona said as she grabbed her bag, her clicking stiletto heels followed me out the door.

  I stopped in my tracks, looked back and put my hands on my hips and shook my head from side to side. “You wanna be a Bounty Hunter and you don’t have a rig? Did I hear you right?”

  Mona‘s head dropped. “The ‘Repo’ man picked it up a few days ago. It’s a long story.”

  I felt like an idiot. I thought, Tiffany you need to be a little more sensitive.

  “Hop in my Blazer it will do for both of us for now. We’ll work on getting you some wheels. For now it‘s the Blazer as long as the brakes hold up.”

  The Martin’s home is backed up to an upscale neighborhood on a busy street east of town. Maxine runs a Massage Parlor out of the home. Working three to four girls she keeps the neighborhood in an uproar with the coming and going of men at all hours. The home is zoned for commercial use. The twelve City Council male members didn’t hesitate to change the zoning from residential to commercial for Maxine. The story goes, majority of the council members frequent Maxine‘s massage tables. Town folk are under the opinion the city council members showed a bit of prejudice with their vote.

  We knocked at Maxine’s door. A young lady with long red hair, dressed in black fishnet stockings, a mini skirt and halter top greeted us.

  “Hi, I’m Natasha.” She said before she looked up at us. The perky smile dropped from her face. “ I thought you were my appointment?”

  “No, we are here to see Maxine.”

  “Maxine got a phone call and was out the door a few minutes ago.” She said standing behind the door with her head protruding around.

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “No, she’s pretty much ‘mums the word’ on her comings and goings.”

  A balding man in his fifties came up the walkway looking from side to side. I’m sure hoping not to be seen. The young lady with long red hair stepped from behind the door pushed us aside and took the gentleman by the hand, pulled him through the door way and slammed the door in our face.

  Mona motioned toward the street. “Have you noticed that black sedan with tinted windows circling the block since we’ve been here?”

  I’m impressed Mona is on the ball. She must have some kind of experience in detective work. I thought to myself.

  “You done this kind of work before?”

  I asked as we were stepping in the Blazer. Before she could answer the black sedan came screeching around the corner. I saw the barrel of a big gun sticking out the passenger side window. I yelled for Mona to duck when an array of bullets zinged through the back window and out the front passenger side window. I threw the Blazer in gear and headed in hot pursuit for the sedan. I yelled to Mona to buckle up while I snapped my buckle.

  “You hit?”

  “No blood, guess not. But I got the crap scared out of me.”

  “You can change your pants later. Hold on.”

  Mona was picking glass from her hair as we raced through downtown running red lights, sliding around corners and bouncing off curbs. I side swiped a stop sign. Lifted it from its post and it took a ride on the Blazer’s hood partially blocking my view. The black sedan had more horse power than my Blazer. I pulled the Blazer to the curb with the brakes smoking and smelling like burnt rubber. Bailey was on the floor board with his paws placed on his head. I jumped out of the Blazer, grabbed the stop sign and threw it in a bush and dusted my hands on my
jeans.

  I called Ace’s Towing for a tow to Mooney’s Garage. Ace is in his fifties, his black hair graying at the temples and his smile curls up to one side. Quite a handsome muscular dude.

  “It smells like your brakes are toast.” He said as he lifted the Blazer off its front wheels.

  Ace locked everything down and hopped in the cab of the truck.

  I looked up at him and asked. “You mind giving us a ride.”

  “Hop in.” Was his answer.

  Ace is a man of very few words.

  Mona and I rode in the tow truck with Bailey on my lap hanging out the window. Ace couldn’t keep his eyes off Mona. He held the steering wheel so tight he was white knuckle driving. What man with blood flowing through his veins wouldn’t be turned on by her?

  Mona got the last three letters on the plate, EBK. It’s impossible to run half a plate but we can keep an eye out for a black sedan with tinted windows.

  I called my dad and asked to use his Edsel. He obliged with much hesitation.

  ‘I promise I’ll take good care of her, Dad.” I assured him.

  After Ace dropped the Blazer off at Mooney’s Garage he drove us over to my parents house and dropped us off. I walked Bailey to the back yard and made sure the gate was latched.

  My parents, Sparky and Esther Turner live in a quiet neighborhood. Most of their neighbors have lived in the neighborhood for years. The house at the end of the block is a rental with people moving in and out almost monthly. My friend Hayden lived there when he was a kid. Dad is retired from the sawmill and preaches at the local chapel when the pastor is out of town. The congregation consist of a few old timers, and the husky six foot tall Brady twins, Bill and Will. They celebrated their legal age years ago but seem to hang on to their teens. Momma keeps up with all the gossip. She can give you the scoop on whatever is happening in the church or for a matter of fact anywhere in the community at any given time. Whether it‘s gossip or fact Momma is the community informant. The gossip must go through Momma to solidify it is the God’s truth.