Wednesday, November 20, 2019

Free Fiction: Doggone Part Four (A Lenny Parker serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Lenny Parker, PI / roadie / metalhead is back in a new serial, blending a bit of comedy with a hardboiled detective story, one feet into metal culture. This time he is hired to track down a missing dog. Read the other parts here.


FOUR

Lenny was just in time for band practice. He played bass in a thrash/death metal band called The Necromantic Poets. They usually rehearsed in the garage that belonged to their vocalist, Mikey. When Lenny came in Mikey was sitting on a speaker, drinking a bottle of Corona. Casey, sporting blue hair today was practicing her drumming skills. A barrage of blast beats sounded.
“You’re just in fucking time, Parker!” Casey yelled over the sound of her drums.
“Sorry, I’m on a case,” Lenny excused himself.
Their guitarist, Mohawk looked up from the guitar he was tuning and asked, “Anything exciting? Murder case? Extortion?”
“Missing dog,” Lenny answered.
Mohawk snorted. “Sheesh, Magnum PI you ain’t.”
“Never said I was,” Lenny said and unpacked his bass from its case. While he plugged in the bass he told his friends the details about the case.
“I feel bad for the old dude,” Casey said. “I used to have a dog when I was a kid. Broke my heart when we had to put Spike down.”
“Yeah, I get that. If I wasn’t on tour so much I wouldn’t mind a dog.”
“I’m more of a cat person myself,”  Mikey said.
“I got a snake,” Mohawk said. Lenny wasn’t surprised.
“Ugh. You probably feed him living mice? Barbarian!” Casey said. Lenny knew she was vegan.
Mohawk shrugged. “Circle of life, babe.”
“That’s bullshit,” Casey told him.
Lenny figured it was time to nip the argument in the bud. He liked playing with this band. He didn’t want an argument like that to cause it to break up. So he played a bassline that was impossible for Casey to resist. She lay down another assault of blast beats to go along with it. That prompted Mohawk to start riffing and soon they were jamming.
“Niiiiiiiiice,” Mikey approved and saluted them with his bottle.
What followed was an hour of playing their particular brand of loud and heavy music that got them all sweaty and red in the face. They took a break, opening up a case of beer.
“You need some help with the investigation?” Casey asked Lenny while she popped open a can.
“I guess I could use some help. Pay’s pretty damn low, though. I’m afraid it will be hard to compensate you for the time,” Lenny said and wiped off some beer foam from his goatee.
“No pay needed. I’m doing it for the old man,” Casey said. “I could like canvass the neighborhood. Maybe leave some flyers and shit.”
“Count me in as well,” Mikey said.
“Ah, shit… Why not? I’ll help out as well,” Mohawk said.
“Awesome, dudes!” Lenny said. “Tomorrow morning we start? For now, let’s finish our beers and play a Sodom cover, all right?”


TO BE CONTINUED

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