I'm pleased to offer the fans of my blog the third part of a brand-new crime story that features roadie / PI Lenny Parker, a fat tattooed slob with a heart of gold. You can check out the second part here.
Girl Gone Wild part 3 (A Lenny Parker serial)
by Jochem Vandersteen
There was a large framed picture of Old Man Jackson in Baby’s office. Man, did he look tough. Big afro, goatee, wide shoulders in an expensive suit, arms crossed and glaring at the camera. He made Shaft look like a pussy. As much as he used to scold at me, I missed him. He was a good, honest and tough guy. A role model if you will. He also thought I was a constant disappointment, botching up most of the cases I worked on. That’s why he usually didn’t use me a lot aside from gopher duties. You know, making copies of stuff, getting lunch or fetching coffee.
“So how have you been?” I asked Baby.
She groaned. “Just tell me what you want and skip the social talk. I’m busy.”
“All right, all right. Just being civil.” Then I told her what I needed.
She laughed. “You managed to lose her after fifteen minutes? You’re an even lousier investigator than I thought.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Don’t rub it in. So, can you help me?”
“Does the pope shit in the woods?” Baby quipped. “This is easy-peazy stuff. Sit down. It will only take a few seconds.” She took a seat behind her desk, I sat down on the guest chair across the desk. She fired up her laptop and tapped a few keys. I was a whiz with a Playstation. Laptops weren’t my speciality. But hey, no way Baby was able to tune a Gibson or plug in a Marshall amplifier.
“Found it. Car belongs to a guy called Norman Becker. Let me see what I can find about that guy.” Some more key-tapping. “Good credit-card history. No rapsheet. Married, two kids. Owns several convenience stores all over South-Cali.”
“He owns convenience stores?” I asked Baby which ones. My fear was confirmed.
“You look worried.” Baby was such a good detective.
“I think Norman might be having an affair with one of his employees. An underage one.”
“Becker is this Melinda-kid’s boss?”
“Yeah. Seems like it.”
“Any chance he was just driving her home as a favor? And that kiss was just a friendly hello?” Baby playing devil’s advocate.
“How many bosses did you kiss like that? Well besides your dad? And why didn’t they just leave the store together? Why did he pick her up around the corner like that?
“There might be hope for you as an investigator yet. Sounds like Norman Becker is a little creep.”
I stroked my goatee. “Now how the hell am I going to tell this to Bagley?”
Baby shrugged. “Not my problem. I got you the information you wanted. Let me print it out for you and you can be on your merry fucking way.”
She handed me the print-outs and ushered me out the door. “Don’t stay in touch!”
I felt a bit bewildered when I found myself at the reception desk again, papers in hand, awful message to tell to my client. Bewildered was a state I was quite familiar with, but had never liked.
The receptionist gave me a look. “You look even dumber than when you came in. Didn’t expect that to be possible.”
“Fuck you,” I said and left the building.
TO BE CONTINUED