“Hey baby, thanks for calling. Sorry I’m all tied up at the moment. Leave your name and number, and one of us will get back to you just as soon as we can, bye-bye.”
My guess was Kerri didn’t work for a pediatrician. I checked my watch as the beep sounded to leave a message.
“Hi Kerri, Devlin Haskell here. Please give me a call when you can. I’d like to schedule an appointment so we can review some facts on your case and I can begin my investigation. It’s Wednesday afternoon at one-thirty, you can reach me at ….”
I’ll be the first to admit it was a bit presumptuous to suggest I’d be able to review facts on her case. I really only had four facts; Kerri’s first name, her sister’s name, Nikki, Kerri’s phone number, and five, make that four hundred dollars, cash in advance.
A half hour later I was behind the wheel of my car, debating about starting it up or going back into Moe’s for a couple more aspirin when my phone rang. I glanced at the number coming through like I always did and just like always couldn’t read the numbers.
“Haskell Investigations.”
There was a very long pause on the other end before a female voice sounding somewhat confused said, “I think I must have the wrong number,” then hung up.
The phone rang again less than a minute later, I did my routine of looking at the incoming number, just like before I was unable to read the damn thing.
“Hello,” I said in what I thought passed for pleasant considering my hangover.
It was the same voice from a minute before, female, young sounding.
“Yeah, I’m calling for Devil.”
“That would be me, Devlin, actually,” annunciating the last syllable in my name.
“What do you need, baby?” sounding decidedly unimpressed with my attempt at correction.
“I need to speak with Kerri, actually. Is she available?”
“She can’t do nothing I can’t do better, honey. You don’t need her, do you?” She hissed the word nothing, suggesting maybe there was a space between her teeth.
“Actually, yes I do, ahhh, need to talk with her. Is she there or is there a number I can reach her at?”
“You a cop?”
“No, I’m not. But look, I’ll call the cops and give them this number unless you have Kerri call me in the next half hour. If I don’t hear from…” Whoever she was, she was so impressed she hung up.
I decided to venture home, grab some aspirin, maybe close my eyes for a few minutes. My mood improved as I considered I could be sitting on the easiest four hundred dollars I ever made.
I had just put my feet up for the briefest of moments when my phone rang. Yes, I looked at the number. No I still couldn’t read the damn thing.
“Haskell Investigations.”
“Oh, no wonder Da’nita thought you were with the police. Do you always answer like that?”
I recognized her voice immediately. A hazy, torrid scene from the previous night replayed in my mind.
“Kerri?”
“Dev?”
“Yes.”
“Dev, I’m returning your call, remember? You wanted to set an appointment. I think we should. No drinks please, at least not until we’re finished with the serious business,” she chuckled.
“You tell me where and when.”
“How about your office?”
“My office?” I swallowed, the throbbing in my head returned with a vengeance.
“Yes, that is okay, no?”
It would be okay if I had an office, so I dodged the question.
“No, I mean, look, I think I owe you at least dinner, after last night and all. You free this evening?”
“I can be.”
“Okay, tell you what. You know Malone’s?”
“It is a place on the corner, with the black awning.”
“Yeah, you got it. I’ll make reservations, say seven, seven-fifteen, no alcohol. At least not until we’re done discussing. Sound okay?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Oh, Kerri, can you bring some pictures of your sister? And I’ll need her address and, ahh, if you have a spare key to her place that would help too.”
“Maybe I should just bring her.”
“Hunh?”
“Joking, never mind. I will see you at Malone’s.”
I was pretty sure I wouldn’t need a reservation, but phoned anyway.
“Yeah, I’d like a table for two at about seven tonight.”
“Not a problem, you won’t need a reservation.”
“Let me make one anyway, so I look important.”
“A reservation here is gonna make you look important? Jesus.”
“See you at seven.”
Chapter 3
I had a nap, cleaned up a little, actually changed the sheets. Stole some flowers from the neighbor’s after I belatedly remembered I was supposed to water the garden while they were out of town. Showered, shaved, found a clean shirt, and some fairly clean black jeans. I topped it off with my black leather coat that a former girlfriend once described as making me look incredibly sleazy.
I was at Malone’s five minutes early and then waited twenty minutes nursing a Coke before Kerri arrived. Malone’s is one of those restaurants with passable side dishes, great steaks, a nice bar, and no surprises. It was about half full, which seemed rather good for a Wednesday night in the midst of the Great Recession. As far as I was concerned it was a good steak place with a limited wine list and cheap drinks. Ambience was not its strong suit. The placemat was white paper sporting purple script that spelled out Malone’s and looked like it was designed by a fourteen-year-old girl serving detention after class.
I was seated in the back, close to the kitchen door, which pushed in or out, depending, and thumped loudly every time it swung closed. So much for reservations.
Even the women sitting at tables cast an appraising eye for a brief moment when Kerri sauntered through the front door, stopped, and scanned the room. She was wearing some sort of black stretch fabric pants that were indeed stretched, wonderfully. Sling back heels, dangerously high, clicked across the oak floor. Conversation halted as she strutted past.
She wore a black strappy T-shirt, emblazoned with stretched, bouncing white letters that proclaimed ‘St. Paul Girls Are Hot!’ I could only imagine the thing must have shrunk in the wash. She smiled and nodded in my direction as she made her way to my table. Two waiters fought to pull her chair out, then lingered over her, fawning and leering down her top as she sat.
“Oh thank you, nothing for the moment,” she said, dismissing them before turning her attention to me.
I waited until the two were in full back pedal. Her perfume began to waft around the table before I spoke.
“Do you always have that effect?” I chuckled.
“Effect?” she seemed genuinely unaware.
“Nothing, nice to have the service I guess.” I’d never seen a waiter pull a chair out for someone at Malone’s before.
“I guess you did not need a reservation?” she said looking at the handful of empty tables, then stared past my shoulder as the kitchen door thumped closed.
“That won’t do. Excuse me,” she smiled at the waiter hovering in the shallows of her perfume. “Is there another table we could have, please? This door banging will drive me cuckoo,” she smiled, her accent suddenly stronger. I thought she set her shoulders back ever so slightly, batted her eyes, and maybe added a slight bounce or two to her request.
“I can take care of that for you. Is there a table you’d prefer?” he smiled down at her, then quickly stepped to the side to pull out her chair, hovering again to catch a glimpse as she bent forward. That was twice in the same night with the chair pulls.
“How about that one in the corner?” she said crinkling her eyes and grabbing his forearm.
“Not a problem, ma’am. Please, allow me,” leaping across the room.
“I don’t believe it,” I said once we were reseated and he’d danced off, attending to a table that had been attempting to get his attention for the past few minutes.
“What? I would have lost my mind with that door.”