Friday, August 14, 2020

Free Fiction: The Albino Assassin (A Lenny Parker serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

 Lenny Parker, PI / roadie / metalhead is back in a new serial. He’s my slightly more humorous version of the PI. He doesn’t exactly know what he’s doing and sure as hell isn’t the martial arts master my Noah Milano is.

For more Lenny Parker stories look here.

 

ONE

 

Lenny heard the bullet dig into one of the wooden crates in front of him. He’d taken cover behind a stack of those crates a few minutes ago. The warehouse was full of them. He knew they wouldn’t be much of a cover though and one of the bullets might dig through the wood and into his flesh. He didn’t really know what to do besides taking cover though. His cases usually didn’t often require carrying a gun, so he had nothing to shoot back with. The assassin taking shots at him was a professional. As tall as she was dangerous. So odds were he was going to die right there, in a warehouse in San Diego by a 9mm fired by a sexy albino assassin. He couldn’t believe how he’d ended up here….

 

*

Casey was the drummer in Lenny’s thrash/death band The Necromantic Poets. The day she asked for his help as a private investigator she wore her hair blue. It might be pink the next day and he wasn’t sure but thought it had been purple a week ago. They were having a drink in their favorite metal bar, The San Diego Batcave. He was on his second Corona, she was drinking vodka. There was some Lamb Of God coming from the speakers.

“I’m still sorry the original drummer left the band. Chris was awesome,” Casey said.

“I was never a big fan of their sound. Although I like what Morton does solo,” Lenny shared.

“Too soft for me,” Casey said. “Lenny, buddy… I didn’t just ask you over here for just a drink today. I kind of need your professional services.”

Lenny held up his Corona. “I already was suspicious you paid for my beer.”

“You calling me cheap?”

“I’m not calling you anything. Just showing my professional investigation skills.”

“Yeah, I’ll need those. I need you to find a missing person for me.”

“That’s part of my gig, sure.”

“I’ve been dating this really hot chick, Jenna, for a few weeks now. We were supposed to go to a Dollyrots show two days ago but she never showed up. Doesn’t answer my phone, doesn’t open the door…”

“I don’t want to bruise your fragile ego, but couldn’t it be possible she’s just not into you anymore?”

“Fuck you, Lenny. Only fucking thing fragile about me is my clit. I’ve never ever been dumped after I went down on a girl anyways. Chicks don’t leave me, I leave them. That’s just not an option, dude.”

Lenny shook his head. “Shit, I wish I had your confidence. I wouldn’t have to spend my night Netflixing and chilling with just my right hand then.”

“Aww, fer chrissake… I won’t be able to burn that image out of my head now.”

“Drink some more of that vodka, that might help. But what, you want to hire me to track her down?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s 400 a day plus expenses.”

Casey almost choked on her drink. “Four-what?”

“I’m a professional investigator, remember.”

“Fuck you once again, you fat slob! You’ve worked for Black Sabbath records, bottles of Blackened whiskey and Amazon discount codes. What are you charging me full price for?”

“I remember having to pay full price for that time I visited that Ravenscroft show where you were asked to fill in on drums for.”

“I wasn’t allowed to put anyone on the guest list, dude. I was just a hired gun. Come on, how many times have I helped you out with your cases for free? You owe me some.”

Lenny sighed. He had to admit she’d been helpful a couple of times. And although she could give him shit every now and then she was probably one of his best friends. “All right. Quit your whining. You just hired a private eye. It will cost you a buck a day.”

“Sixty cents.”

Lenny rolled his eyes. “Sheesh, fine… And another Corona. I think they’re going to play some Vader next.”

 

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