16

 

After I ate I parked a quarter of a block from Cindy’s. There was her red Mercedes parked in the drive. She was probably waiting for Celine and Brewster to return. Too bad. I turned on the radio for some news.

“You fool,” a voice came from the radio, “you aren’t making any progress!”

“Who, me?” I asked.

“You’re the only one sitting here, aren’t you?”

I looked around. “Yes,” I said, “I’m the only one.”

“Then get your ass hopping!”

It was the voice of Lady Death coming through the radio.

“Listen, baby, I’m working on the case now. I’m on a stake-out.”

“Who are you staking out?”

“A connection of Celine’s. It all ties together.”

“So do your shoes. Where’s Celine?”

“In a crapper with a 400 pound eunuch.”

“What’s he doing there?”

“I’m letting him cool off.”

“I don’t want him hurt. He’s mine.”

“I won’t hurt him, baby, honest injun!”

“Sometimes, Belane, I think you’re some kind of subnormal.”

OVER AND OUT!” I screamed and snapped the radio off.

Then I just sat there looking at the red Mercedes and thinking of Cindy. I had my backup mini-camcorder with me. I began to feel hot for the action. The thought occurred to me that I might slip into the premises and pick up on something. Maybe I could catch one of her conversations on the telephone. Maybe I would stumble onto some clue. Sure, it was dangerous. Broad daylight. But I thrived on danger. It made my ears tingle and my butthole pucker. You only live once, right? Well, except for Lazarus. Poor sucker, he had to die twice. But I was Nick Belane. You only rode the merry-go-round once. Life was for the daring.

I slipped out of my car with my mini-camcorder. And I also carried my briefcase as a ploy. I tipped my derby low over my left eye and moved toward the house. My inner sensor was on fully. Something was going on in that house. I felt it strongly. I even bit my tongue in the excitement. I spit out some blood and moved toward the door. Again, it was no problem. 47 seconds and I was inside.

I moved down the hall with my ears pricked. I began to think I was hearing voices. I was. A man’s and a woman’s. I paused at the bottom of the stairway. Yes, the voices came from upstairs. I moved slowly up the stairway. I heard the voices much better. One I recognized as Cindy’s. I kept moving forward, then stopped outside the door. It was evidently a bedroom door. I pressed closer.

I heard Cindy laughing. “What do you think you’re going to do with that thing?”

“One guess, baby! I’ve been waiting a long time!”

“Well, you came to the right place, big boy!”

“I’m going to ride you all the way to hell and back, baby!”

“Oh yeah?”

“You bitch!”

I heard Cindy laughing again. Then it got quiet. It stayed quiet for a little while. Then it began to get noisy. I heard hard breathing and a slight thumping sound, plus the working of bed springs.

“Oh!” I heard Cindy. “Oh, my god!”

I put the briefcase down, turned on the camcorder, kicked the door open.

I’VE NAILED YOUR ASS!”

WHAT?” the guy looked around from his position. Cindy’s legs came down and she SCREAMED.

The guy leaped to the floor and faced me. Horrible looking fat son-of-a-bitch.

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” he yelled.

It was Jack Bass. For Christ’s sake, it was Jack Bass!

I spun around and ran down the stairway.

HOLY SHIT!” I yelled.

I was moving toward the door. As I yanked it open, out of the side of my eye, I saw Jack Bass standing there, balls naked. He had an object in his hand. A gun. He fired. The bullet spun the derby around on my head. He fired again. I felt death rush by my right ear. Then I was sprinting down the sidewalk. I dashed into the street toward my car. Too late, I saw something in the way: an old man on a bicycle pedalling along and eating an apple. I smashed right through him leaving him twisted within the spinning wheels of his bike, upon the asphalt.

I was into the Bug in a flash. I went screeching from the curb. The old man was slowly getting up. I swerved to miss him, jumped the curbing and was onto the sidewalk. Then I was blazing past Jack Bass’s place. He was standing in the doorway, still balls naked and he got off 3 more shots. One went right through the monkey hanging from my rear view mirror. The second passed between me and nowhere. The third came through the back of the front seat, passenger’s side, hit the glove compartment, and made a hole.

Then I was out of there. I zigzagged up and down a half a dozen side streets. Then I found a boulevard and drove along with the traffic. It was a typical Los Angeles day: smog, a half-sun and no rain for months.

I pulled into a McDonald’s, ordered a large fries, coffee and an order of chicken-on-a-bun.