SEVEN
Lenny met up with Baby Jackson’s
snitch in a dive bar in the worst part
of San Diego. Baby had described the man as an ugly dude with a red goatee and
pockmarked face. It wasn’t difficult to find him. Not that most guys in the bar
weren’t ugly. The snitch was the only one with a red goatee. He was sitting
in a booth in the back, nursing a large
beer.
Lenny ordered a bottle of Corona at
the bar and walked over to the snitch’s booth. According to Baby he was known
by the name of Ugly Jim. That was obviously not one of those ironic nicknames,
like tall dudes they call Tiny. Aside from a pockmarked face Jim was
cross-eyed, had no eyebrows and huge ears. Lenny suddenly felt like he was Tom
Cruise himself.
“Jim?” Lenny ventured as he neared
the man’s booth.
“Lenny?”
“Yes.”
“Have a seat then.”
Lenny sat down. “Thanks for meeting
me.”
“If there’s money to be had, Jim
shows up.”
“Err… Good to hear that I guess. So
yeah… Nice place here.”
Jim chuckled. “It’s a fucking
shithole. But at least I’m not the ugliest guy around here.” Lenny thought that
was up for debate in a big way but didn’t comment on that.
“At least they stock Corona,” Lenny
said and toasted Jim’s mug of beer with his bottle.
“I only drink domestic myself. So,
let’s get down to business. Jackson told me you need some intel on the gambling
biz?”
“Yeah. Gambling on dogfights to be
exact.”
Jim whistled. “Whoo-ee. That’s
specific. You a gambling man, Lenny?”
“No, not at all. It’s this case I’m
working on. A missing dog. I think it might have been dognapped by people
involved with dogfights.”
“Yeah, Jackson mentioned you’re in
the same business as she is, although not in the same league. So, what exactly
do you want to know about that?”
“Well, I guess I want to look
around at one of the fights. Get into contact with the organizers to see if I
can find the dog.”
“You do understand that could get a
bit dangerous, right? I mean… Those dogs are worth serious money to those
dudes. They won’t exactly hand over the dog when you find it.”
“I’ll cross that bridge then. So,
can you help me?”
“For two-hundred bucks I might.”
Ugly Jim smiled an even uglier smile.
Lenny sighed. “Baby warned me
you’re not cheap.”
“Fuck you, that’s a steal. I need
to make a living, you know.”
“I ain’t got that kind of dough to
pay you. A hundred I can do. Maybe some concert tickets to a band you like.”
Jim squinted. “You think you can
get me some Five Finger Death Punch tickets?”
Lenny nodded. “I think I can. I
know a dude who works with them. Used to roadie for him back in the day.”
“How do I know you’re not
bullshitting me?”
“How do I know you’re not?”
Jim cackled. “Fuck me, Jackson
turned you some shit, didn’t she?”
Lenny smiled. Then he got a hundred
dollar bill from his battlejacket’s pocket. He put it on the table. Jim’s hand
went to it, but Lenny’s hand covered it before the snitch could grab it.
“Not so fast, Jim. Tell me a bit
more.”
“All right. Listen, there’s a
dogfight coming up tomorrow night. Right here in merry San Diego. They rented
an empty warehouse for that shit. You got the correct password and you can come
in, twenty dollars cover charge.”
Slowly Lenny’s hand lifted a bit
from the dollar bill. “Go on. Where is the warehouse?”
“Near Market Street.”
“What’s the password?”
“Promise me you won’t ever tell
them I was the one who gave it to you.”
“One of the main skills a private
investigator needs to have is knowing how to keep things confidential. I’ll
keep my trap shut, Jimmy.”
Jim put a hand on the corner of the
dollar bill. “It’s Scooby Doo.”
“Brilliant password,” Lenny said
and allowed Jim to grab the money. It disappeared in Jim’s pocket like magic.
“But be careful, dude. If they find
out you’re not there to gamble and watch the dogs fight they could get nasty on
your ass.”
“I didn’t know you cared,” Lenny
said.
“As long as I don’t have that Five
Finger Death Punch ticket in my pocket I do.”
“You’re all heart, Jimmy,” Lenny
said and drained his Corona.
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