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
No comments:
Post a Comment