Bulldog (Dev Haskell - Private Investigator Book 9) by Mike Faricy Read Free Book Online Page A

“Guess you can go in now.”
    “Thanks,” I said and headed toward the closed door.
    Louie’s description of Jackie Van Dorn as a ‘B’ grade movie star from the 40’s wasn’t far off the mark. He sat behind a massive desk and sized me up as I entered his office. From a good fifteen feet away I could spot the home dye job on his black hair along with maybe a quarter inch of grey roots showing, all of it slicked back and fitted to his head like a helmet. His mustache looked like it had been drawn above his thin lip with a cheap eyebrow pencil. He wore a light blue shirt with a starched white collar and a fire engine red tie. His coat was snow white with a red pocket silk that matched his tie. I pegged him for about a hundred years old. He studied me from behind a pile of files as I approached.
    “Mr. Van Dorn, I appreciate you making time to see me without an appointment,” I said and extended my hand.
    He looked at my hand for a moment and then, probably against his better judgment gave me a limp shake in response.
    “Mind if I sit down?” I asked.
    “Be my guest,” he said almost under his breath. The way he continued to stare gave me the feeling he was trying to read my mind.
    “So,” I said taking a seat in an uncomfortable green leather chair and waited. Then I waited some more. I could still feel the vibration from the music down below in Nasty’s throbbing through the floor. Finally I broke the ice. “Your name came up regarding a real estate deal from a couple of years back and I wondered if you might be able to help me.”
    “I guess that all depends.” His massive black leather chair squeaked as he tilted back and appeared ready to listen. The red lining of his suit coat became exposed and appeared to match his tie and pocket silk.
    “A friend of mine was involved in a real estate closing about two-and-a-half years ago. You represented the selling party. I guess they were traveling or something. Anyway, I wondered if you might be able to provide some information on them, the sellers.”
    “Information? What sort of information?” he asked then stroked his chin with his right hand.
    “Well, their name for starters.”
    “That’s a matter of public record I’m sure you could get in touch with the county and they could tell her.”
    I didn’t know if the ‘her’ was a guess, a slip of the tongue or was he just letting me know he knew exactly why I was there.
    “Along with their names I wanted to find out something, actually anything I could learn about them.”
    “I don’t intend to reveal my client’s name just from the confidentiality standpoint, I assume you understand. Frankly, if you want the name that bad you can look it up. As far as ‘finding out’ about them I really couldn’t be of much help. Without going into specifics, my only dealings would be related to that particular transaction, hardly the sort of interaction that would allow me to gather information and then pass that on to you. There is that troubling little item called ethics that comes into play.”
    “Ethic’s” I said and nodded. “You’ve a bit of a unique practice, Mr. Van Dorn, don’t you more or less keep Tubby’s feet away from the fire.”
    “I wouldn’t really know what you’re referring to Mr. Haskell and I think I’ve been more than generous with my time. Please enjoy the rest of your day,” he said then pressed a button on his desk. A moment later a rather large individual entered the office. He showed the residual effects of a beating, a purple discoloration across the bridge of his flat nose and beneath both eyes, although the swelling had all but disappeared. His lip was split on the right side and seemed to be healing somewhat slowly. His entire right ear was bandaged up in white gauze. His eyes grew wide as I turned in the chair to face him and a sadistic look of recognition splashed across his face. He reached behind his back and pulled out a rather large looking .45. Fat