Free Fiction: Runaway Bride Part Nine (A Lenny Parker serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Hired by a young man to find out why his fiancee ran away roadie / PI Lenny Parker finds her quickly and sees her drive away with a big black man who turns out to be a pimp called Larry Thunder. When he arranges to meet her in a motel the pimp shows up as well, armed and dangerous. Luckily Lenny convinces him to let her leave. Here's the last chapter in this serial. For earlier episodes click here

Lenny and Casey smiled happily at the couple in front of the altar. Lenny had managed to find a blazer he wore over a Metallica t-shirt and Casey actually turned out to own a modest black dress. They looked pretty respectable although a bit out of place among the other guests. Still, they felt honored to be invited to Tommy and Jill’s wedding. It had been a few weeks since their encounter with Larry Thunder and now Lenny’s nose only hurt when he sneezed.

Casey nodded at the two bridesmaids, dressed in pink dresses. “Wouldn’t mind hitting that.”

“Sheesh, you’re awful,” Lenny whispered.

Casey shrugged. “Living life to the fullest, that’s all.”

The metalheads listened as the couple said their vows and sealed their marriage with a kiss. There was so much love in both their eyes Lenny couldn’t help but be moved.

“Are you tearing up, you big wuss?” Casey said.

“It’s the incense,” Lenny said.

They headed out the church where the newlyweds were greeted with a handful of rice. Lenny and Casey shook their hands and congratulated them.

“I owe you so much,” Jill told them. “Tommy was so kind to me. We’ll have Larry paid off within a year.”

“That’s great,” Lenny said. “If he bothers you after that don’t hesitate to get in touch.”

“Thank you, thank you!” Jill said and hugged Lenny and Casey both.

The couple walked to the big white limousine with the cans and sign saying “Just Married” waiting in front of the church. They got in, waving at everybody. So much happiness, no sign of the hardships they went through. Lenny felt really good about that and told Casey so.

“You know what also felt good? That hug from Jill. What a body,” Casey said.

Lenny just shook his head, glad to have seen from the newlyweds that romance and true love wasn’t dead yet.

 

THE END

Free Fiction: Runaway Bride Part Eight (A Lenny Parker serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Hired by a young man to find out why his fiancee ran away roadie / PI Lenny Parker finds her quickly and sees her drive away with a big black man who turns out to be a pimp called Larry Thunder. When he arranges to meet her in a motel the pimp shows up as well, armed and dangerous. For earlier episodes click here.

“Take it easy,” Lenny pleaded. “We don’t mean her or you any harm.”

“And what the fuck do you mean then?” Thunder demanded.

“We just wanted to know why she left her fiancée,” Lenny said.

“Fuck that! You want her to marry him, right? I’m not going to lose my biggest moneymaker. And I don’t like getting fucked with!” Thunder aimed his gun at Lenny.

Jill jumped up, blocking his aim. Hands fending off potential gunfire, even if that would of course have no use. “Don’t, Larry! Don’t shoot! We’ll work something out!”

“Out of the way, bitch!” Thunder screamed, pulling back the hammer.

That’s when Casey kicked him in the balls. He let out a yelp as Mikey grabbed him by the wrist, pulling the gun down. Lenny moved in, and punched him in the face. His eyes rolled up, his knees buckled and down he went. Lenny wasn’t much of a fighter really but his fists are huge and there’s quite some strength behind it from schlepping around all those Marshall amplifiers and stuff like that.

Mikey had secured Thunder’s gun and aimed it at the pimp who was face down on the carpet.

Jill was crying, impressed by the violent little encounter that went on there. Casey was next to her, hand on her shoulder, telling her it was okay.

Thunder groaned and tried to get up. Mikey put the gun against his head and told him, “Easy, dude.”

“Fuck, you hurt my fucking nose,” Thunder complained to Lenny.

The roadie shrugged. “Seemed like the best thing to do at the time.”

“I’ll get you for that,” Thunder said, the hate in his voice almost palpable.

“Don’t forget I’m pointing a gun at you,” Mikey said. “That’s my best pal you’re threatening.”

“Look, I’m sorry I hit you,” Lenny apologized. “That gun just got me understandably nervous. Can’t we work something out together? Some way you let loose of Jill and forget about me punching you?”

“Wouldn’t know how,” Thunder said. Then he sneered at Mikey, “I don’t believe you would really shoot me anyway.”

“Sounds like you’re feeling lucky, punk!” Mikey said and started to put some pressure on the trigger.

“Wait!” Jill said. “Larry, what if I pay you off every year until I managed to approximate what you think I would have earned for you?”

“Where do you think you would get that kind of green?” Thunder wondered.

“By working hard for it. The clean and legal way,” she said.

“Tell Thomas about it,” Lenny said. “I’m sure he will help you pay him off as well.”

“I still don’t know I want to tell him about…” Jill said, voice shaking.

“Trust me,” Lenny said.

“Okay, I will,” she said.

Lenny crossed his arm, a smile on his face. “Great. What about it, Thunder? You get the money, she gets her freedom. How does that sound?”

“Not bad. That and I get to punch you in the nose,” Thunder said.

“What? No!” Jill said.

I shrugged. “Sounds fine.”

“Don’t let him do that,” Mikey says. “Should I shoot him?”

“No, let him take his shot at me,” Lenny said and spread his hands, offering the pimp a free shot at his face.

The shot came and it hurt like hell.

 

Free Fiction: Runaway Bride Part Seven (A Lenny Parker serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Hired by a young man to find out why his fiancee ran away roadie / PI Lenny Parker finds her quickly and sees her drive away with a big black man who turns out to be a pimp called Larry Thunder. For earlier episodes click here.

SEVEN

 

 

Mikey had agreed to open the motel room door for Jill. Mikey is a good looking dude and probably the least crazy looking of Lenny’s band. More Jon Bon Jovi than Lemmy Kilminster or Ozzy Osbourne.

Thunder was standing behind Jill. She was dressed in knee-high boots, a denim short-short skirt and a tight top. She looked hot.

“Hello there,” Jill said as she got a look at Mikey.

Mikey ran a finger through his long brown hair and gave her his best smile. Odd that they the Nekromantic Poets didn’t have any groupies really.

“Pay first,” Thunder told Mikey and blocked his view of Jill like he was a bit jealous of how she looked at him. A jealous pimp? That must get difficult.

“Sure,” Mikey said and took a wad of cash from his jeans pocket. He counted the money for Thunder and handed it to him.

“Good. Be back in an hour. Treat her well or I kick your ass when I come to pick her up,” Thunder said.

Mikey spread his hands and gave him that smile of his. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

“Very funny, wiseguy. Just remember what I said.” Then Thunder left and Jill entered.

“You’re a handsome one, baby…” she cooed as she came in, a hand brushing his cheek.

“You’re pretty hot stuff yourself. Have a seat. I had the bed made especially for you,” Mikey said.

Jill gave him a quizzical look but sat down on the bed. “So, how do you like it baby? Soft? Rough? Want me to be your momma or your baby?”

“Actually, he just wants some answers,” Lenny said and stepped out of the bathroom door together with Casey.

Mikey shrugged, an apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry, sugar.”

Jill jumped up from the bed. “What the fuck?”

“Relax,” Lenny said, a hand in the air. “We were hired by your fiancée, Thomas.”

She sighed, averting her eyes. “Shit…”

“He wants to know why you ran out on him and I figure he has a right to know,” Lenny said.

Jill dropped down on the bed. She covered her head with her hands, eyes to the floor, hair hanging down her face. “Just shit…”

“Come on,” Casey said. “It has to do with all of this, right?”

Another sigh. Long, containing months of stress. “Yeah… If you met Thomas you know the kind of catholic goody two-shoes he is. Before I met him I was working for Larry Thunder already. When I met Thomas I tried to quit that life. Larry wanted me back in his stable though, saying I was just too much of a money-maker to just let go. He threatened to tell Thomas what I used to do for a living if I didn’t work for him one more year. Only one more year and then he would let me go. I just couldn’t have him tell Thomas about my dark life. It would fucking crush him. So I decided, what’s one more year.”

“And after that? You were planning to return to Thomas?” Lenny asked.

She shrugged. “If he loves me as much as I think he does he would take me back without a second thought.”

“I guess you’re right,” Lenny had to admit. “But what were you planning to tell him? How were you going to explain your taking off like that?”

“Haven’t exactly come up with a plan for that yet, but I should be able to come up with something in a year.”

Lenny kneeled down beside Jill. “Listen, you’re right… He does love you. And I think he’ll take you back right now, even knowing about your other life. And I’m also pretty sure that knowledge won’t hurt him as much as a year without you.”

She pulled her hair. “Dammit! Maybe… I don’t know… Fuck it! I love him so much as well, but…”

Then there was a loud bang. The door flew open, Larry Thunder bursting in, brandishing his .44 Desert Eagle again.

Jill screamed. Mikey dove for cover and Casey just cursed. Lenny put up his hands.

“You stupid fucks. I noticed that damned Dodge Ram of yours parked behind the motel. Do you think I’m a moron? Who the hell are you assholes?”

Free Fiction: Runaway Bride Part Six (A Lenny Parker serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Hired by a young man to find out why his fiancee ran away roadie / PI Lenny Parker finds her quickly and sees her drive away with a big black man who turns out to be a pimp called Larry Thunder. For earlier episodes click here.
It's been awhile since the last one, but enjoy...

SIX

 

Lenny parked his Dodge Ram at a McDrive, after picking up some cheeseburgers and a large Coke. Casey had some chicken nuggets.

“Well that went pretty pear-shaped,” Casey said.

“Yeah, sure did,” Lenny admitted. “So what now? I still want to talk to Tina.”

“I figure there’s  way easier way to do this. We figure Tina’s a hooker now, right? Why don’t we just order her?” Casey suggested.

“That’s so simple it might just work,” Lenny said between two bites of his cheeseburger, ketchup dripping down his beard.

“Just call Larry and order the chick,” Casey said, belching after a sip of Coke.

“There’s only one problem with that idea… I don’t have his number.”

Casey sighed. “Do I really have to think of everything for you? These days hookers are all on the internet. We should try to book her online.”

“Book her online? What are you talking about?”

Casey grabbed her phone and logged into a website called Proztituz.com. Lenny looked with her on the small phone screen in awe.

“We fill in the data we know. Like her physical description, the area she would operate in and click the Search-button,” Casey said.

“How do you know all this stuff?” Lenny asker her.

“Hey, a girl gets lonely sometimes, so sue me. I’m not always able to pick somebody up in a bar when I have a hankering for some pussy,” Casey said.

Lenny almost choked on his fries.

“God, repressed much? Didn’t know you were a devout Catholic,” Casey remarks. “Hey, think I hit pay-dirt already! Looks like her stage-name so to speak is Jillian.”

Lenny looked at the profile picture on the site Casey was pointing at. Her face was made blurry by some kind of Photoshop-like software but he could still make out enough to make it indeed very likely this was Jill. She was dressed in a short-short skirt and just a lacy bra, wearing fuck-me shoes with stiletto heels.

“You might be right,” he admitted.

“Right, now to set up the appointment,” Casey said. “There’s this motel nearby here you can rent by the hour that would be just perfect for this.”

“How do you know--,” Lenny started to say but the rolling of Casey’s eyes had him shut up.

“It’s done. She should be arriving there in three hours,” Casey said.

“Won’t Thunder be with her? And what will he do when he sees us?” Lenny wondered.

“He’ll be only there to drop her off and pick her up. We’ll just ask one of the guys to open the door. We’ll hide in the bathroom or something until Thunder is gone.”

Lenny leaned back and whistled. “Sheesh, you’re good at this stuff. Maybe you should have become the PI?”

“Just consider me the Metal Nora to your Nick, Thin Man. Or should I say Thick Man?” Casey said and ate the last chicken nugget.

 

Free Fiction: Runaway Bride Part Five (A Lenny Parker Serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Hired by a young man to find out why his fiancee ran away roadie / PI Lenny Parker finds her quickly and sees her drive away with a big black man who turns out to be a pimp called Larry Thunder. For earlier episodes click here.

FIVE

Lenny managed to work out a plan with Casey. She had nothing to do that morning and offered her help. Like most of the others in the band she liked the excitement of helping a real PI with his work. Since Lenny was the closest to one they knew they chipped in every now and then when Lenny needed some help on a case.

Lenny had parked his car across the street from Larry Thunder’s place, a bungalow in the heart of Northpark. The neighborhood didn’t look like it had a lot pimps living there. Obviously, Larry was a very successful pimp.

Lenny was watching the bungalow from the car, using the powerful zoom lens of his Nikon. Casey was sitting next to him, eating a bag of Cheetos.

“I can see Larry is in there. Looks like he’s playing around with an iPad. No sign of Jill but it’s hard to look inside,” Lenny said.

“That’s where I come in, right?” Casey said.

“I’m not really sure if it’s such a good idea you suggested. Thunder is a really nasty guy, you know. And he’s got a history of hurting women. Also, I’m not sure he’s going to believe you in the role you want to play.”

“Trust me. I can take of myself and I’m probably a better actress than you think. For one, I’ve been pretending to be straight for the first sixteen years of my life with big success.”

She wiped her Cheetos-stained hands on my jeans and left the car. Lenny watched her walk over to the door to Thunder’s bungalow and ring the bell. It took a few minutes before the door was opened and Thunder appeared in the doorway. He was shirtless, his muscles impressive. A gold chain was around his neck. Lenny watched Casey do her act, playing the part of a beauty product saleswoman, asking for the lady of the house.

Thunder just shook his head. Casey brushed a hand through her hair and change her posture, sticking out her boobs, her shirt lifting just high enough to show her belly button. The full charm offensive. Lenny worried Thunder might want to put Casey into his stable so to speak.

After a brief conversation the door was shut and Casey was left alone on the doorstep. She walked back to the car and got in.

“Maybe you should have thought about bringing some samples or something to sell the act a little bit better,” Lenny suggested.

“Fuck that. He told me there were no ladies in his home. When I flirted with him a bit, suggesting he’d offer me a drink he didn’t blink. Guess he’s not straight either,” Casey said.

“I think he’s just used to seeing a lot of hot women, being a pimp and all. Don’t take it personally.”

Casey leaned back. “Right. So now what do we do?”

“I guess we wait. He has to leave the house sometime. We try and find Jill then,” Lenny said.

“Cool. Put on some Death Angel then,” Casey said.

“Sure,” Lenny said and fiddled with the buttons of the car stereo, looking for the right MP3.

“Lenny?” Casey said.

“Yeah, just a minute,” Lenny said, continuing to search through the playlist of his stereo.

“Lenny?”

“Yeah, yeah. Hang on.”

“LENNY!” Casey yelled.

“What?” Lenny said, slightly annoyed and looked up at Casey. Casey was pointing out the window.

Lenny looked out of the window and say Larry Thunder walk over, a big gun in his hand. Lenny knew it was a Desert Eagle from one of his favorite PS4 games.

“Shit! Shit!” Lenny said.

Thunder pointed the gun at the car and yelled at them. Lenny was pretty sure it was something like, “Get the fuck outta here.”

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move to park in front of Thunder’s home in the same car he used when he first encountered the pimp. Lenny thought it best to follow Thunder’s advice and indeed got the fuck out of there, driving away with rubber burning.

Free Fiction: Runaway Bride Part Four (A Lenny Parker Serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Hired by a young man to find out why his fiancee ran away roadie / PI Lenny Parker finds her quickly and sees her drive away with a big black man who turns out to be a pimp called Larry Thunder. For earlier episodes click here.

FOUR

Lenny was just in time for practice. The Necromantic Poets jam in their vocalist’s , Mikey Taylor garage. Mike is a good looking guy with long brown hair.

“You cut that one close,” Mikey said. “We were all looking forward to hearing about your life on the road. It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah, but first let’s jam. I’ve been aching to put up my riffs against Lenny’s bass lickfs long enough,” a wiry guy with a Mohawk said. That’s what the band called him too, Mohawk. Nobody knew his name but Lenny figured it had to be something embarrassing like Theodore or Harold.

“Yeah, let’s rock,” a girl with a lot of tattoos and pink hair said. She was sitting behind the drums. She was called Casey. Last time Lenny saw her she was dating a stripper and her hair was blue. Next week he knew she might as well be dating a waitress and her hair might be green.

Lenny unpacked his bass. “Fine with me. Time to make some noise. What will we start out with? Zero Tolerance? I love the intro to that one.”

Casey hit the drums with a quick solo. “Go for it!”

Lenny served up a low throbbing bass that Mohawk followed up with a down tuned riff. Mikey screamed, “Zero Tolerance!” Then they were off.

They played a mixture of death metal and thrash that they liked but didn’t seem to find a big audience. Perhaps because Casey had a habit of getting so pissed off at the mistakes Lenny made she sometimes walked off during a gig. Or the fact Mohawk showed up drunk for a lot of them. Or didn’t show up at all.

They played two more songs before they decided they needed a break. And a beer. They got some bottles of Corona from the fridge which they drank with a rockstar’s gusto.

“So, how was life on the road?” Mikey asked Lenny.

“What’s to tell… Long drives, hard work schlepping around stuff. Managed to ace the opening riff to Iron Man while sound checking which the audience loved,” Lenny said.

“Did you manage to party some with the band?” Mohawks asked.

“Yeah, two nights. Had fun with those guys. I did a few shots too many though. Almost barfed over the lead singer.”

“That’s a pretty good way to get yourself fired,” Mohawks chuckled.

“Luckily I just managed to get the champagne bucket. After that I went to the hotel right away. Shit, makes me wonder what happened to the bucket. Hope they got wise and…”

“Just stop it,” Casey said, shutting my mouth with two fingers. “Maybe you should tell me a bit more about your side job instead. Any new interesting cases?”

“There is a confidentiality thing attached to the gig,” Lenny said.

Casey handed Lenny a new beer and said, “You know we can keep a secret.”

“I guess. And I wouldn’t mind getting this one off my chest.” Lenny gave them the short version of his latest adventure.

“That Larry Thunder sounds like a guy you wouldn’t want to mess with,” Mikey thought.

“That’s not the thing worrying me. I’m bothered by the fact that I don’t know what I should tell me client. Poor guy. Would you want to hear your fiancée is a hooker?”

“I dated one or two in my time,” Mohawk said. “But you really think she’s a whore?”

“It’s pretty much the only reason I can think of why she would be hanging with him.”

“Ever think of the possibility she’s dating him?” Casey offered.

“It didn’t really look like that. And do you think that would sound better to the poor guy?”

Casey shrugged. “Maybe he’s got a right to the truth, even if it’s ugly.”

“He did hire you to find out why she left him,” Mikey said.

“Maybe I just pull out and pay him back. I just don’t want any of this shit on my conscience.”

Mohawk slapped Lenny on the back of the head. “Fucking pussy! You’re such a damned softy.”

“Maybe you should try to get the details from the lady first. Ask her why she left him in person,” Casey said between to pulls from her Corona.

“But try not to face Larry Thunder,” Mikey brought in.

“Sounds like a good idea. Now I just need to know how I’m going to do that,” Lenny said.

“Never mind that for now. Let me hear you do that Iron Man riff,” Mohawk said.

Lenny gave it a try and fucked it up.

Free Fiction: Runaway Bride Part Three (A Lenny Parker Serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Hired by a young man to find out why his fiancee ran away roadie / PI Lenny Parker finds her quickly and sees her drive away with a big black man. For earlier episodes click here.

THREE

Lenny gave the daughter of his old mentor a call. They called her Baby Jackson, because they called her father Old Man Jackson when he was still alive and heading up their PI agency. They didn’t call her that because she was such a sweet and innocent girl.

“What the fuck, Parker? Who the fuck do you think I am? Your personal assistant? If you’re too damned cheap to pay for the databases we own maybe you should quit PI work.”

“I kind of need the money to pay for my bass guitar and shit. And gas ain’t cheap, you know?”

“Maybe you should sell those guitars. And drive a cheaper car than that gas-guzzling monster you own now.”

“You sound like my mom. If she cursed every two words,” Lenny said. “Give me a break, for old time’s sake. And look at it this ways if you help me do this case it might lead to more cases and after some time I might make enough dough to indeed own those databases myself.”

“That’ll be the day. Well, I ran the plate when we were having our little conversation and I think I have some advice for you… Stay away from the owner of that plate.”

“You sure know how to get a guy’s interest. Tell me more.”

“That car belongs to one Lawrence Thaddeus Walker. But people on the street call him Larry Thunder. He’s the biggest pimp of San Diego and has done some time for beating a man into the hospital with the lid of a garbage can. They fucked up his trial in some way, unfortunately so this piece of trash is still on the streets. He’s been known to beat his girls into submission violently.”

“Sounds like a sweetheart indeed. He doesn’t look that tough, though. I’ve faced some tougher customers in seedy bars while on tour.”

“Fuck that bravado, Parker! You’re a drinker, not a fighter. I’ll admit you probably gained some strength from hauling around those huge-ass speakers and shit but that doesn’t mean you can fight. And besides, Larry Thunders is known to carry a gun. You don’t even own one.”

“Those things are too loud. Don’t want to damage my ears. I need them to play my axe.”

“Another reason to avoid this guy. He’ll break your fucking fingers just for kicks and you won’t play that bass ever again.”

“Didn’t know you cared. But I’m afraid that’s a negative. Isn’t it in the PI code that you never quit on a client?”

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I won’t. What’s his address?”

She gave it to him. “That’s the last favor I’m doing you for now.”

“Sure, sure. Thanks! If you want I can get you tickets to my next show.”

“You know I hate that fucking noise you play.”

Lenny knew. She was into jazz and blues like a PI should be according to fiction. Too bad for her. He thought The Necromantic Poets were killing it the last few months. That reminded him he was going to be late for band practice if he didn’t hurry up.

Free Fiction: Runaway Bride Part Two (A Lenny Parker Serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Last episode Lenny Parker, roadie / PI was hired to find out why a young woman (Jill) left a young man (Tommy) without any good explanation...

TWO

Lenny figured the best place to start was Tina Tristam’s. He debated with himself if he should ring the bell or be a bit more covert in his actions. He decided it would be wise to be covert first. He could always ring the bell after that. So he sat in his Dodge Ram, playing the new Iron Maiden record and watching Tina’s house. She lived in an apartment building in a nice area of San Diego, all white stucco and potted plants on the balconies.

A Honda drove up the parking lot. A chubby brunette left it after it got parked. She fit the description Tommy had given Lenny of Tina. Lenny watched her walk to the apartment building. She was wearing one of those power suits and was curvy enough to still look feminine in them.

He figured he could get out of the Dodge and ask her some questions. He also figured she wouldn’t want to talk to an overweight PI with arms full of tattoos. If Jill didn’t want to talk to Tommy her friend probably wanted to keep her mouth shut about anything she knew as well. Besides, the Iron Maiden record was really good.

Tina disappeared into the building. Lenny waited, putting on the Iron Maiden cd a second time when it was done. Another car appeared on the parking lot. An Audi, a preppy looking young man exiting it.

More waiting, the Iron Maiden record being replaced by the new Lamb of God album. A few more people arrived, a few more left. And then things got interesting.

The car that parked then was very different from the Audi, Honda and other run of the mill cars that had been arriving the last few hours. This was an honest to gosh Cadillac. It was red, had some fuzzy dice in the window if you can imagine that.

Out stepped a huge black guy in a leather jacket. It reminded Lenny of the one Samuel Jackson wore in Shaft. He loved that movie. The guy was wearing a ton of rings and bling around  his neck. He was wearing shades while it was already in the evening. Yeah, this guy stood out.

The guy glanced at Lenny’s car. Lenny ducked and banged his head on the steering wheel. The claxon honked. The black guy was startled, but when he saw Lenny rubbing the painful spot on his forehead he chuckled. He shook his head and walked towards the apartment building.

Lenny wondered what he should do now? This guy made him. Well, made him… Noticed him. He didn’t really seem to have him identified as a private investigator.  Maybe he should just get rid of the car. He’d been taught by his mentor, Old Man Jackson, that people focused on the car, not the people behind the wheel. Except when you were a good looking woman. All rules changed then. Lenny was neither good looking nor a woman.

Lenny drove off and parked the car a street down the road. He got out, carrying the latest copy of Metal Hammer and walked to the parking lot of the apartment. He leaned against a tree, pretending to read the magazine while he in fact kept a keen eye on the building.

He stood there for about ten minutes when the black guy and a pretty young woman left the building. He almost yelped out when he realized the woman was in fact Jill. She wore white shorts, a pink tank-top and stiletto heels. She was even better looking in person than on the picture Tommy had shown him with her long, smooth, milky white legs, small but firm bosom. He’d found her already! He was even better at this than he thought. Maybe he could do this fulltime, ditch his roadie job. He’d probably miss the life on the road, though. Hanging out with the bands, seeing the sights. Of course he could do without the hangovers, aching back and lousy motel beds.

Then he understood this might have been only the easy part of the job. He found her, but he still had no clue why Jill left Tommy. Unless of course she left him because she had a new lover, namely the big black dude. They didn’t look like much of a couple though. He had an arm around her, but they weren’t strolling like lovers. It was more like he was dragging her along.

The black guy opened the door of the Cadillac, seemed to shove Jill inside and slammed the door. He got in as well. They drove off.

Lenny ran to his Dodge. He made it halfway until he had to stop for a second, wheezing, hands on his knees, throat burning. He didn’t work out as much as he used to. And used to was a few times a year. In January, the first few days after his usual new year’s resolution. He just wasn’t built to run.

He watched the Caddie disappear from view. He made up for his lack of stamina with his razor-sharp mind though. He’d memorized the license plate of the Cadillac. He was going to find out who owned it soon enough.

See, he was pretty good at this job.

TO BE CONTINUED

Free Fiction: Runaway Bride Part One (A Lenny Parker Serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Lenny Parker, the roadie / PI, is back in action right here at my blog. Here's part one of a new story.

ONE

Lenny Parker was in the Thai restaurant that he used as his office, eating Mister Janpongs’s famous soup.

“Good to have you here again,” Mister Janpong said. “Long time ago, yes?”

“Yeah, I’ve been on tour for a few months with The Texas Sons. Cool band. Just returned yesterday in time to catch the Bad Citizen Corporation show tomorrow.”

“You are talking about music, yes?” Mister Janpong didn’t keep very up to date about the latest metal and punk music.

“Indeedy-do,” Lenny said. “Thanks for playing my answering service again when I was gone.”

“My pleasure. In fact, a client is on his way no,” Mister Janpong told me.

“What? No shit? You take good care of my side business!” Lenny Parker supplemented his income as a roadie working as a part-time private investigator.

“I think he is coming in right now,” Mister Janpong said, pointing at the door. Lenny knew the man was probably right. When you weren’t a regular, you had to be one of my clients or someone looking for directions. Janpong’s wasn’t the most popular place in San Diego.

The man coming in looked to be in his late twenties, white pants, experty creased, pullover and well-combed blond hair. Since Lenny and Janpong were the only other people in the room it was easy for him to assume I was the man he was looking for.

“Lenny Parker?” he said, hesitantly extending his hand.

“In the abundant flesh,” Lenny said and shook the hand with his chubby mitt.

“Oh. Okay. I figured you had to be but, eh…”

Lenny smiled. “I know, I don’t look like the prototype of a PI.” He was referring to his tattoos and Slayer T-shirt.

“Uh… Yeah.”

“I left my fedora at home,” Lenny joked. “Have a seat and let me know what I can do for you.”

“Sure,” the man said and sat down. “I’m Thomas Whitman. Tommy.”

“Nice to meet you, Tommy. Can Mister Janpong fetch you a drink? He stocks Singha beer. It’s really good.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Lenny took a sip of his own bottle of beer and said, “Go ahead…”

“Yeah… It’s like this… I had this thing going with this wonderful girl, Jill. We’ve been engaged for half a year now, had the wedding date set and all. Then she broke up with me a week ago. Just out of nowhere, without any real reason. We’d been already living together ever since our engagement but she just moved out.”

“What do you mean when you say no real reason. Did she give you the old it’s-me- not- you speech?”

“Not even that. She told me she thought it would be better if we didn’t see each other any more. She gave me a hug and a kiss and just started to pack her bags.”

“Sounds pretty weird. Sometimes they really seem to be from Mars, right?”

“I guess. It’s just that… It’s not like her, you know?”

“Not really. I don’t know her. But listen, I’m the last guy you should ask about relationship advice. I haven’t been in a relationship longer than half a year. I’m a private dick and a roadie, not a relationship counselor.”

“I know, I know. But you could maybe investigate why she left me, right?”

“Huh? Can’t you just ask her?”

“She isn’t picking up her phone or reacting to my e-mails. I don’t even know where she is.”

Lenny sighed. “All right. I’m a real romantic at heart, you know? Let me see what I can find out for you. I’m going to need some more information, though.”

“Sure, whatever you need.”

“I’m going to need a picture of her. Names and addresses of friends and family. Where she works, places she used to frequent. You know, bars, clubs, restaurants, shops.”

“Sure, sure. I’ve got her picure right here,” Tommy said and produced a polaroid from his pants. He put it on the table.

Lenny whistle through his teeth, reddening and apologizing immediately. Jill was beautiful. Milky white skin, auburn hair, incredible green eyes.

“It’s okay. I of all people appreciate how beautiful she is.”

“I can imagine you want her back.”

“It’s not just about looks. She’s really funny, warm and intelligent.”

“I’m sure. Well, that takes care of that. Now how about the rest. Her work?”

“She works at the reception desk of a hotel. But she hasn’t been at work all week. I checked.”

“Give me the address please,” Lenny said and Lenny asked Mister Janpong for a pen. He used a napkin to jot down the information Tommy gave him. Then  Lenny asked Tommy about Jill’s family members and friends.

“She always told me she didn’t have any family she was still in contact with. She’s from Ohio originally but couldn’t get along with them. It’s one of the reasons she moved to San Diego. She had a friend from work she sometimes had coffee with, though. Tina Tristam. I’m not sure about her address though.”

“That’s it? That sounds a bit weird? No friends, no family?”

“I guess she didn’t need much of those, the way our relationship was going. I guess my family and friends became hers.”

“Yeah, guess so then. Fine. Let me see what I can find out for you. I’m yours for 300 bucks day plus expenses. I will email you the contact.”

“Okay, fine. Do think you can find out why she left me?” Tommy asked eagerly.

Lenny shrugged. “Don’t know, buddy. But  I will sure as hell do my best.”

TO BE CONTINUED