The Devil's Dwelling Read online

“What the hell are you doing?” Curly started to push back his big leather high back chair.

  His hand went for the desk drawer. I jumped across the desk, knocked his chair off it’s rollers. We landed in a heap on the floor with me astraddle him. I lay my Glock on his cheek with my finger on the trigger.

  “You hear from Marty you let me know.”

  I stuffed my card in his shirt pocket, patted and crawled off his chest.

  “You packing heat Curly or is it you enjoy a woman astraddle you?”

  “I knew it, I knew it.” Mona blurted out.

  “What?”

  “He’s bald, anytime you hear a guy named Curly you can bet his bald. You know like Curly in the ‘Three Stooges‘. You need to update the portrait out front, its deceitful.”

  We backed out the door and ran like hell for the car. The Edsel didn’t want to start.

  “Pump the foot feed.” Mona told me bouncing in her seat looking over her shoulder.

  “What the hell’s the foot feed?” I was looking all over for anything to pump.

  “The accelerator.” Mona yelled.

  I pumped the accelerator as instructed and the engine revved up. It sounded like the engine was going to blow. I threw it in reverse, backed up and made a rear end impression of the Edsel’s bumper in the car parked behind me, shifted to drive and cranked the wheel to the left, goosed it and knocked the car in front of me about ten feet forward with the Edsel’s heavy steel bumper. After making our way from the parking space, we were on our way when smoke started bellowing from the front of the car.

  “Stop the car! It’s on fire! Stop the car!” Mona yelled unbuckling for a quick exit.

  I pulled the wheel hard to the right, bounced across the sidewalk and came to a screeching halt on the lawn of Thompson Mortuary. The vapor was steaming from a hole in the radiator. The hauling hitch from the car in my way penetrated the Edsel’s radiator.

  Mr. Thompson came running from the chapel.

  “I have a funeral service in session. What are you doing making all this commotion?”

  He took a second look.

  “Tiffany , is that you in your Dad’s Edsel? I should have known it was you. It’s time for the funeral procession and you are parked on the walkway. Get this piece of shit out of here.”

  The chapel doors opened and six men dressed in black walked out carrying a big oak casket. A casket spray of red carnations balanced on top with a ribbon reading ‘Loving Husband‘. They lifted the casket over the Edsel and maneuvered around the lawn aiming for the hearse. One poll bearer stepped in a hole causing the casket to tip. The pallbearer fell on his butt and the casket spray flew across the lawn landing on the Edsel. I had an instant Christmas wreath hanging from my hood ornament. Mr. Thompson grabbed the spray and placed it on the casket. The men in black again balanced the casket and proceeded to carry it to the hearse. Forgetting he wore a toupee Mr. Thompson pulled at his hair lifting his toupee in the air. He slapped his hairpiece back on his head slightly lopsided and opened the back door to the hearse. But not before you could hear giggles from the crowd that had gathered while the commotion was going on. The pallbearer’s slide the casket into the hearse and the rollers took over. The casket rolled to the front of the hearse and locked in place. Mr. Thompson slammed the hearse door, straightened his toupee and elegantly escorted the family to the family car.

  FOUR

  I gave my Dad a call. The answer machine came on. “Dad, the Edsel isn’t working out for me. I’ll drop it off this afternoon. Thanks.”

  I called Ace Towing to pick up the Edsel from Thompson Mortuary’s front lawn and to drop it off at my folks place. Ace gave us a ride to the apartment before dropping the Edsel off at the folks place.

  A couple hours later my cell phone rang. Thank God for caller ID. Tiffany, I know you can hear me. I told you not to bring the Edsel back riddled in bullets. That you did not, but what the hell! Did you go through a war zone?”

  I could hear momma yelling, “Tell her she has to pay for fixing it.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Tiffany, it’ll give me something to do.”

  I’m a daddy’s girl. Now my older sister Kimberly, quite the opposite. She’s momma’s girl. Momma gets her out of bad situations all the time. Such as the time when she was little she played mailman taking all the mail from the neighbors mailboxes and placing each letter through the grate in the streets water drain. Thank goodness, it hadn’t rained in a few days and Dad was able to fetch the letters from the drain. Momma told him it was an expression of ‘give and take‘. A funny thing is she grew up to be a postal worker sorting mail.

  I made a call to Mooney checking on my Blazer.

  “Mooney, you about got the brakes fixed on my Blazer?”

  “No, I had to order some parts. It’ll be another week or so before you can drive it. You free tonight? Thought I might pick up a pizza and a movie and head over to your place after work.”

  “I have a new roommate. So, bring two pizza‘s.”

  “Who’s the roommate?”

  “Just a gal down on her luck. In fact she’s my new partner at the firm.”

  Mona over hearing the conversation and blurted out. “I can stay in my room. I don’t want to be in the way.”

  “Don’t be silly. Mooney and I are just good friends. I call him my boyfriend. It makes him feel good. Nothing serious. You‘ll understand when you meet him.”

  Mooney and I attended the same high school. Mooney is a nice guy but very simple minded. He’s a good mechanic. His brother, Todd set him up with the garage. His sister-in-law Megan takes care of the appointments, billing and keeps the office going. Mooney would fix all his friends rigs for free if it weren’t for Megan.

  There was a knock at the door. Dum de de dum dum, dum dum!

  “Who’s that?” Mona jumped from the sofa. I motioned for her to set down.

  “It’s Mooney with our dinner and a movie. That’s our secret knock.”

  “Come in Mooney.”

  Mooney walked in with two pizza balanced high above his head and a six pack of beer under his arm.

  “Give me those, you’re gonna drop them.” I grabbed the pizza and put them on the coffee table. His coveralls with MOONEY’S GARAGE stenciled across the back smelled of oil and gasoline. His cap was cocked on the side of his head. He stopped short of walking on the carpet and pulled his shoes off balancing himself with one arm flinging out to the side.

  “See, Tiffany, I remembered to take my shoes off.” He looked at Mona’s shoes and shamed her with his finger.

  “Mooney girls don’t get their shoes all greasy like you do at the garage.”

  “Your clothes are in the bathroom you get your shower before we eat. Excuse me, Mooney, this is Mona, my partner.”

  Mona stretched her hand out for Mooney to shake. “Hi Mooney, good to make your acquaintance.”

  Mooney wiped his hand on his pants and shook Mona’s hand.

  “Like wise, ma‘am. Now I have to go shower or Tiffany won‘t let me have dinner.”

  Mooney came from the shower dressed in clean coverall’s.

  It didn’t take long for us to down two pizza’s and a six pack of beer. Mona and I sat on the sofa and Mooney lay in the floor on his belly watching ‘The Three Stooges’ laughing and burying his face in the throw pillow while he kicked his legs in the air.

  FIVE

  I called Bo’s Taxi for a ride downtown to Hood’s Used Car lot. Bo’s rig was hitting on about two cylinders when he picked us up.

  “When you gonna get this rig to the garage? Last time you picked me up it was running crappy.“

  Bo grinned and turn the radio up to drown out my complaining.

  Colorful plastic triangle shaped flags were strung on a string from the office to the corner polls in the car lot. The triangles were flapping in the wind making a popping noise. Mr. Hood flat footed it across the car lot with his brimmed hat cocked to the side of his head, chewing on a toothpick and giving us a big g
old tooth grin. With every step he pulled his pants up from the buckle in the front. You could tell his pants are usually falling off from the frayed hem in the back leg of his pants.

  “I noticed Bo’s Taxi dropped you off. You needin’ some wheels? He tipped his hat and ran his fingers through a few strands of hair and replaced his hat again making sure he cocked it to the side.

  “My Blazer is getting new brakes and it will be a couple weeks before the parts come in.”

  “I can put you in a nice rig. You see something you like on the lot I’ll make you a hell of a deal.” He started toward the front row where the more expensive rigs are parked.

  “No needing in heading up front I’m looking for something to give me wheels for a couple of weeks not a life time. Do you have lifetime warranty’s?” I laughed.

  “First thirty days or two thousand miles is all the warranty you get from me.” Mr. Hood smiled and his gold tooth caught the sunlight blinding me.

  We found a nice Ford Explorer setting in the back of the lot next to a trailer set up for an office.

  “What are you asking for this one?”

  I looked in checking out the interior. Hopped in the drivers seat and turned the ignition over. “Let’s go for a test drive.”

  “It aint for sale.” Mr. Hood threw his hat on the ground , picked it up and dusted it off, straightened the brim and put it back on his head. “It aint for sale.”

  “Don’t give me that song and dance you sell cars, everything is for sale.”

  “That’s my personal rig.” Mr. Hood was rubbing the back of his neck when Mona and I drove off the lot. We made a few blocks and headed back to the lot. Mr. Hood was sitting on the steps to the office shaking his head. I jumped from the Explorer and walked up to Mr. Hood.

  “What’s your bottom dollar?”

  Mr. Hood pushed his hat to the back revealing his balding head. “Like I said it’s not for sale. But if you really want to buy it it’ll cost you.”

  Mr. Hood came up with a dollar amount and I offered 500 dollars less.

  “Okay, it’s yours. That’ll be cash.”

  “I don’t have cash but my words good. I’ll bring you the money in a few weeks.”

  “You get my price down and you don’t have the money to buy this rig.” Shaking his head. “Come on in the office.” We followed Mr. Hood up the steps to his office a trailer from the fifties with a small dinette area for signing papers. The back of the trailer was set up for storing files and maybe napping or whatever on the cot.

  Mr. Hoods secretary wrote a note for the car. He slapped a temporary tag on the rear window. I signed the note and Mona and I again had wheels.

  Sheriff Randy Reagan and I have been seeing each other for too many years to count. Seems when Randy is ready to commit I’m not and the reverse. Randy joined the sheriff department right out of Junior College and worked his way through the ranks. He was elected Sheriff about five years ago. He doesn’t approve of my occupation, although he is always ready to help me out when I find myself in a bad situation or needing information.

  My phone rang. I looked at the readout. “It’s the Sheriff .“ I told Mona.

  “I hear you are looking for Marty Martin. Meet me over at Main and K Street.”

  “You got it. I’m driving a red explorer.”

  “What happened to the Blazer?”

  “It’s in the shop getting new shoes.”

  “The way you drive her I’m not surprised.” Sheriff Reagan said and chuckled.

  I pulled out from the curb heading for Main and K Street when I noticed a black sedan in my rear view mirror.

  “Mona, we have a tail. It‘s the same dang black sedan we chased the other day.”

  I tossed the phone to Mona.

  “Hit number one on speed dial and tell Sheriff Reagan we have a tail and won’t be stopping at the lot.”

  “Sheriff Reagan.” Came across the phone loud and clear.

  “This is Mona, Tiffany’s partner. We have a tail. We’ll just drive by the lot. Maybe you can get a make on the black sedan.”

  I cut the corner making a cloud of dust as we crossed the empty lot. The black sedan was in pursuit and couldn’t see the Sheriff’s car for the dust bellowing up. I continued on trying to ditch the black sedan.

  “How the heck did they know we changed rigs?”

  I turned into the city parking garage. It’s a maze to get through I hoped the black sedan wasn’t familiar with the layout of the garage. Tires screeched as we rounded the corners. I drove through every obstacle and couldn’t shake the black sedan. Bullets were zinging off the concrete walls. Mona was returning fire but never connecting except for maybe a few cars park in the way of her target. I took the ‘do not exit’’ ramp going the wrong way, knocking the wooden barricade to the side. As I exited the parking garage a truck was approaching the entrance. I glanced off the wall and missed him. The truck continued into the garage blocking the black sedan. When I hit the street I could hear horns blaring and curse words flying.

  “They must know something about Marty Martin’s disappearance. And probably think we are getting too close.” I sighed and exhaled letting out my frustration.

  “Let’s head back to Maxine’s Massage Parlor to see if we can get the picture of Marty and maybe Maxine has something she can add to his disappearance.” I turned the Explorer toward the Martin residence.

  We parked in the rear parking lot trying not to be too conspicuous. It was almost dark. The motion sensor light lit up the parking lot. The walkway led to a back door. I knocked on the door and no one answered. Mona walked around to the front door and knocked and called Maxine’s name. The place was eerie silent.

  I tried the back door and it was locked. The French door was made of small glass panels. Mona wrapped a rag she found on the porch around her fist and busted the glass out. She reached in and unlocked the door.

  I ran back to the Explorer and got the big flashlight Sheriff Reagan had given me for a Christmas present last year.

  I took my Glock from my bag and slowly opened the door. We made our way into the house. The back porch was cluttered with piles of laundry.

  “Someone must be planning on doing their laundry.” I said as I kicked the pile to the side.

  We walked through the house shining the light trying to locate anything suspicious. Each bedroom had a name plaque attached over the door. One room was named Tranquility, another Serenity and another was named Pleasure. There’s massage table, dresser and bed in each room. I checked the closets and they were empty of clothes. Mona checked the dresser drawers and they were also empty.

  “It looks like the masseuse have moved out.” I shined the light farther down the hallway.

  “Marty and Maxine’s room must be at the end of the hall. Let’s take a look.”

  Mona slowly opened the door. My nostrils curled up from the stench coming from the bedroom.

  “What the hell is that stench?” Mona asked holding her nose.

  “That’s the smell of death.”

  “What! Let’s get out of here.” Mona was halfway down the hall heading for the door.

  “Mona, get your butt back here. You‘re a bounty hunter not a chicken.”

  Mona inched her way back to the bedroom. Holding her nose even tighter with her eyes squinted.

  I shined the light around the room. Everything was in disarray.

  “Shine the light in the closet.” Mona said holding her nose with one hand and the other on the closet door knob.

  She pulled the closet door open and setting on the floor leaning back against the wall was a lady with her chest riddled with bullets. I haven‘t met Maxine but I assume it is her. With her tongue hanging out and her eyes staring into space it wasn‘t a very good scene. She had been there for a few days. A rat ran across the floor. Mona jumped and screamed.

  “Shit, I’m gonna be sick.” Mona ran from the room.

  I followed in hot pursuit wiping our fingerprints from the door handles as I
ran from the house.

  Mona’s head was hanging over, her hands on her knees and she was gagging when I made it to the Explorer.

  “Get in the rig we need to get out of here.” Mona stood up wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and got in the Explorer.

  “That’s the first body filled with bullet holes I’ve seen.” She gave out a YUK!

  I put the Explorer in reverse backed out of the parking space, threw her in drive and headed for the nearest phone booth.

  I made an anonymous 911 call trying to disguise my voice.

  I gave them the address of where to find the murdered victim and hung up before the call could be traced.

  We drove around the neighborhood. Within moments sirens were blaring and coming to a stop in front of the massage parlor.

  Sheriff Reagan jumped from his official Tahoe SUV. He motioned for his deputies to surround the house. With his gun drawn he knocked at the door. The deputies were behind their vehicles with rifles laying across their rigs.

  “Sheriff Reagan, open up.”

  There was dead silence.

  The deputies told him the rear door was unlocked. The Sheriff made their way to the back door with his deputies following.

  Sheriff Reagan and a team of deputies entered the house. Within moments they exited the house waving their hands across their face, shaking their heads and gagging.

  Sheriff Reagan kept his cool continuing on with his business he summoned the coroner.

  “We have a murder victim at Maxine’s Massage Parlor. I need you out here without delay.” He flipped the phone shut and slipped it in the case attached to his belt.

  Sheriff Reagan’s deputies were roping off the premises with yellow tape. ‘Caution, Crime Scene Do Not Cross’.

  The crime scene investigation truck showed up and set up residence.

  Within thirty minutes the local news team was on the scene. They set up the remote transmitter where they could broadcast on the eleven o’clock news from the murder scene.

  I’ve often thought that might be a nice job. Just set around until you are called then blab on TV what you learned. I guess there’s more to it than setting and blabbing.