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 the other parts of this story click here.

TWO

 

Casey updated Lenny about her new love, Jenna while they were in his Dodge Ram. They were heading for Jenna’s place. Jenna, last name Collins, had a job at a local sex shop. Turns out Casey met her there, shopping for a strap-on. Lenny had stopped feeling shocked about Casey’s openness about her sex life. The conversation had turned to if Casey had someone to use it on and before you knew it they were at the back of the shop doing the nasty. Eat that, Penthouse Forum. They discovered they had more to offer each other than just pure lust, like the same crude sense of humor and a  fondness of riot grrl bands and medieval poetry.

“Did she ever mention something to you about not liking San Diego, or her work?” Lenny asked Casey.

“No. She loved her job. She just liked meeting all the freaks and embarrassing the housewives who shopped there. She wasn’t thinking about leaving. I know what you’re suggesting, Len. But she didn’t just leave on her own accord. There’s something wrong.”

“Okay, okay. But most often when an adult disappears she usually turns up after a few weeks, drunk, broke or in love with someone else.”

“This is not one of those causes, okay?”

“Sure.” Lenny pointed ahead. “This her place?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Let me park and we’ll have a look over there.”

Lenny parked the Dodge next to a battered Volvo. Together with Casey he walked over to the apartment complex. It had three stories, white balconies and walls painted red to mask the fact the building was pretty old.

“You don’t have a key, right?” Lenny asked.

“If I had a key I would have gone over to have a look myself, don’t you think? No, I need your fancy PI lockpicking skills.”

“I’m actually not very good at that. I’m not Magnum, you know?”

“You can always put some of your weight against the door.”

“Hey! Stop picking on me about my weight!”

“Pick locks, not on Lennies,” Casey chuckled.

A young woman with pink shorts and a black tank top moved past them on rollerblades, over to the apartment’s main door. A blonde ponytail stuck out from her white cap.

“Quick, let’s move in behind her,” Lenny said.

Casey wiggled her eyebrows. “Not a punishment.” Lenny shook his head in despair. Casey was so much worse than even most men he knew.

Walking as fast as they could without looking suspicious they moved to the door. Just before the young woman could close it, Lenny put a foot against it.

The woman looked behind her, missing the sound of a closing door. “Oh, hi. Didn’t see you there.”

“No worries,” Lenny said. “Nice weather for some rollerblading, right?”

The woman smiled. “Absolutely. I haven’t seen you before here, are you new?”

Casey put an arm around Lenny and kissed his cheek. “Yeah, we just moved into our little love nest here.”

Lenny was caught a bit unaware by Casey’s act but had to admit it didn’t feel bad to get a kiss from his beautiful friend. “Yeah. We’ve got a friend living here as well. Jenna Collins, you know her?”

“Jenna? Good looking girl? Lots of tattoos?”

“That’s her,” Casey said.

“Yeah, I’ve run into her every now and then. She usually tries to get me in bed when she does. Some people have been complaining about the loud music she plays.”

“That sounds like her as well,” Casey agreed. Lenny wondered if it bothered her that her girlfriend tried to pick up women in the apartment building.

The young woman took off her rollerblades, quite a balancing act. Lenny was a gentlemen and offered her a hand as she did. “Haven’t seen her in days, though. Maybe she’s on holiday or something? You know about that?”

“No, haven’t heard about that,” Casey said.

“Well, I’m going to take a shower. Sweating my ass off. Nice to mee you folks,” the woman said. “I’m Tiffany.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Lenny agreed.

“For sure,” Casey said.

They watched Tiffany go up the stairs.

“And what a nice sweaty ass it is,” Casey said.

“I guess you have no reason to be mad at Jenna for trying to pick her up,” Lenny told his friend.

“She probably just wanted to arrange a trio.”

“Right, probably. Well, that was the first door. Now let’s head over to the second.”

The two metalheads went up the stairs to the third floor where Jenna’s apartment was.

 

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.”

 

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

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Free Fiction: Doggone Part Seven (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.

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.

Free Fiction: On Bad Behavior (a Noah Milano serial) part 1

It's been a while since you last read about him, but here's a new serial featuring Noah Milano, security specialist and son of a mobster.

ONE

In the old days I could afford an office. Those days were long gone. That’s why I was as happy as a 14-year old who found his dad’s stash of Playboys when I got a new client. Well, that analogy is pretty outdated with the internet now, I guess. Shit, who knew I’d ever feel old?

The lady sitting at my table at Starbucks was pretty good looking. Even for LA-standards. She was tall, with long dark hair, piercing blue eyes and a body that would make a model envious. She was drinking one of those fancy-ass mocha-cookie-dough-tutti-frutti coffees. I just had a regular black coffee.

“Doesn’t that coffee hurt your teeth? I can almost hear the dentist rubbing their hands in glee.” I said.

She smiled. “You don’t like these kind of coffees?”

“I wouldn’t dare to call it coffee.”

She laughed. “Maybe you’re right. And you’re joking to make me feel more at ease, aren’t you?”

“Me? No, I’m just a smartass all the time.” I tried to look as innocent as I could.

“Right. Well, thanks.”

“So, Miranda. What can I do for you?”

“It’s my husband. He’ll be out of jail tomorrow. And that worries me. You see, I testified against him to get him in there. He beat up my brother and abused me for years. I’m afraid he’s going to hurt me when he gets out.”

I couldn’t help but grit my teeth. “Shit. That sounds bad. So you need some protection?”

“Yes. I heard you’re the least expensive bodyguard in Los Angeles. I hope I can pay you.”

“I think I can charge my lowest rate for a case like yours. Say one dollar a day. Plus expenses. Which, if you make me coffee at your place will be a whole lot less.”

“A dollar a day?” She gave me an inquiring look, as if she wasn’t sure I was kidding her.

“I’ve got some good karma to earn,” I told her. “A case like yours might help. I’ll be there with you the day he gets out. After that I’ll see if I can do anything to keep him off your back. There’s a limit on how long I can pay my bills on karma alone, so I can’t be guarding your charming body forever.”

She blushed a little at that. I couldn’t believe a woman like that still knew how to blush. “How do you think you can reach that?”

“I can be very persuasive. If I sold girl scout cookies I’d be rolling in dough. And not the dough the cookies are made of. I meant money, you know?”

She laughed. I liked the way her eyes seemed to sparkle when she did. Miranda Shaw was definitely a very attractive woman.

“All right. But Max is a pretty savage guy. He used to be in the Marines. It took four cops to take him in.”

“Don’t worry about that. I can take pretty good care of myself.”

“Okay, thank you so much,” Miranda said.

“I’ll go get my stuff and will meet you at your place this evening, okay?”

“Yes. That would be good. Thanks.”

I shook her hand and left the Starbucks, thinking this would be a walk in the park. Just protecting a nice lady from some abusive asshole. Shit, would that turn out to be wrong.


TO BE CONTINUED

Free Fiction: Man's Ruin Part Five (A Lenny Parker serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Lenny Parker, PI / roadie / metalhead is back in a new serial, every new part starting with a metal video. 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. In the first episode of this new story he was hired to track down the girl who robbed an old buddy of his lottery ticket. See previous parts here.

FIVE

“Okay, have a seat and tell me about your trouble,” Lenny said. He was prepared to hear some kind of bullshit sob story. But still, he felt obliged to listen to it. There was no harm in listening, right?

Janey sat down on the couch and started to cry. Her make-up ran down her face, reminding Lenny of the corpse paint his favorite black metal acts wore.

He sat down next to her. He couldn’t help but be moved. Her teams seemed genuine. And he’d always been a big soft-hearted sap. He patted her back. “Just go ahead and tell me.”

“It’s terrible. So terrible… You see, for years I’ve been a junkie. I just recently got clean. But five months ago, when I was still using… I kind of sold my baby…”

“You what?” Lenny wondered if all that heavy music had damaged his ears.

“I sold my baby. You see, I didn’t have the money to pay for my drugs anymore. And my dealer told me he would take my baby as collateral until I could pay him back for the drugs.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I told you it was terrible. I’m so fucking ashamed of myself…”

“Relax. I’ve seen what drugs can do to people while I was on tour. I know it makes you do crazy things.”

“So, now I’m clean and I want my baby back. But my dealer wants me to pay a lot of interest before I get my baby back.”

“So he hung on to your baby like a fucking watch at a pawnshop?”

“I guess you could put it like that. But I must admit I’m afraid my baby isn’t alive anymore. Or that he just sold it to some rich folks who can’t have babies of their own.”

“I’m afraid that sounds somewhat likely. A drug dealer doesn’t exactly sound like the kind of person to spend the time taking care of a baby. Haven’t you seen any recent proof your baby is okay?”

She shook her head. “No, no I didn’t. But that’s why I’ve been stealing from guys I slept with. To get the money to pay to get my baby back.”

“I guess I understand that. How old is your baby?”

“Ryan is sixteen months old now.”

“We’ll get him back,” Lenny decided. “Did you already cash in the ticket?”

“Not yet. I figured it would be wiser to wait just a little while and not cash it in in San  Diego.”

“That’s better thinking then when you used your baby as collateral,” Lenny said.

“Fuck! I know I’m terrible! I hate myself for what I did!” Janey said and dug her nails into her cheeks, drawing blood.

Lenny grabbed her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m going to help you get Ryan back and then you give Keith back his ticket.”

With large eyes Janey looked at Lenny, like a dying man hearing he is going to live anyway. With the make-up all over her face and the blood on her cheeks she looked so terrible it made Lenny’s heart ache. “You think you can get my Ryan back? Really?”

“I think I have an idea how to do that, yeah. I’m just going to call some friends and see what I can do.”

“Thank you… I’m really not a bad person, I hope you can understand that.”

“I try not to judge,” Lenny said. “Tell me more about that dealer of yours.”

“His name is Anthony Roth. He’s one of the biggest coke dealers of San Diego. He’s got a bunch of three henchmen doing his dirty work.”

“Can you reach him?”

“Yeah, I have his number. For when I get the money together.”

“Good. I will call some friends. Then you call him, set up a meeting with him. Tell him you want to exchange the money for Ryan,” Lenny said.

“What do you have planned?”

“I’m not exactly sure yet, but I’m sure together with my friends I’ll come up with something. We’ll get you your kid back. Whatever it takes.” Lenny thought he almost sounded like a real hero. Too bad he wasn’t so sure about his success as he made her believe. Still, he felt he had to try.


TO BE CONTINUED

Free Fiction: Man's Ruin Part Four (A Lenny Parker serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Lenny Parker, PI / roadie / metalhead is back in a new serial, every new part starting with a metal video. 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. In the first episode of this new story he was hired to track down the girl who robbed an old buddy of his lottery ticket. See previous parts here.
This time the video is Alice Cooper's big hit Poison. Read the story and it will make sense.

FOUR

“That was good,” Janey said and handed Lenny the glass back. “Wouldn’t mind another one.”

“You got it,” Lenny said and ordered a new one. He handed it her, this time she sipped it more slowly. Good thing too, this case would be getting expensive otherwise and he didn’t have that much cash. Not until he finished the case successfully and managed to get Keith’s lottery ticket back.

“Haven’t seen you around before, baby… You look pretty rock ‘n’ roll. I dig that. You in a band?” Janey asked.

“Yeah, I’m a bassplayer,” Lenny said.

She moved closer to him, running a finger across his chest. “Those are usually the most sexy.”

Lenny swallowed. He wasn’t exactly used to getting hit on by women that hot. It’s not like his band had any groupies yet. He had to force himself to keep his head clear and on the case.

“Good to hear. You come here often?”

Janey smiled mischievously. “I come as often as I can anywhere.”

That girl had some lines. Lenny couldn’t help and feel a slight stir in his jeans. “That’s a good way to think, I guess.”

Poison, by Alice Cooper started playing. That got her excited. “I love that song. Come dance with me, sugar.”

What she called dancing was more rubbing herself up and down Lenny’s rotund body. Not that he minded. He could see Casey at the bar, shaking her head in disbelief. Dancing, she move her lips closer to his and tasted his lip. Tongues interacted and he loved the way the whiskey taster on her tongue. This wasn’t a bad case to be on, really.

“How’s about you take me to your place, sugar?” she whispered in his ear.

“That sounds really good,” Lenny admitted. “We’ll have to call a cab though, a friend drove me over.”

“Sure,” she said. “I’m going to the little girl’s room while you call one,” she said and walked off.

Lenny joined Casey at the bar. “Looks like I hit paydirt.”

“You’re right on the dirt-part. What a cheap whore,” Casey said.

“You almost sound jealous,” Lenny noted.

“Fuck you, heterosexual.”

“Right. I’m going to take her home. I gotta call a cab. Thanks for taking me over here.”

“Sure, enjoy. And watch your dick. You only got one.”

“I won’t be sleeping with her. I’m a professional. I’m just going to try and find out where she has the lottery ticket.”

“Sure.”

Janey returned from the toilet and put an arm around Lenny. “Ready to go, baby?”

They walked outside, the cab just arriving. They got in the car and as soon as they were seated Janey put her tongue in Lenny’s ear. He saw the driver looking at her lecherously. Lenny gave him his address and they drove off.

Lenny barely had time to pay the driver as Janey pulled him along, out of the car to his apartment building. They walked over to his place, Lenny somewhat fumbling with the keys as Janey was now rubbing his crotch. Man, he wasn’t used to that.

The door opened and they went in. Janey looked around the place. “Nice bass guitars.”

“Thanks,” Lenny said. He was pretty happy with them as well, they looked pretty cool on his wall he thought. “I would have cleaned up the place if I knew I would have female company though.”

“Never mind. Just take me to your bedroom, baby. I want you.” She threw her jacket off, then pulled her top off, displaying a lacy black bra and small but firm breasts.

Lenny felt eager to take her to the bedroom and enjoy all of the good things her body seemed to offer. Then he decided he was a professional and locked the door of his apartment.

“No, we stay here,” he told her.

“What do you mean, here?” Clearly she wasn’t used to that.

“In the living room. You stole something from a buddy of mine. I want it back.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about.”

“The lottery ticket you stole. He wants it back.”

“You’re creeping me out. I’m outta here.” Janey walked to the door, but Lenny blocked it with his rotund body, arms crossed.

“Just get me the ticket and you can go.”

“This is kidnapping! I’m calling the cops!” Janey said.

“I’m pretty sure you won’t do that,” Lenny said.

She charged him like a bull. She crashed into him, Lenny bouncing with his back against the door. She tried to push him away from the door, but Lenny was just to steady on his feet. She tried to knee him in the balls, but he saw it coming, twisting his hip and taking the knee on his leg. Then she went for his eyes, long nails like claws. He grabbed her wrists and pushed her away from him. She fell down on his couch.

“You bastard!” she said.

“I’m really sorry, but I really want you to give the lottery ticket back. I’m not going to hurt you, but I’m also not going to let you leave until you do.”

“I know some nasty people, asshole. They will really enjoy killing you.”

Lenny really didn’t like being threatened. He didn’t want to die and was no hero. Still, he took on Keith’s case and couldn’t just back down. So he tried to act as much as a tough guy as he could.

“Many have tried. As you can see no one has succeeded.”

Then she started to cry. “It’s not as cut and dried as you think. I need the money. I’m in trouble.”

.
TO BE CONTINUED

Free Fiction: Man's Ruin Part Three (A Lenny Parker serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Lenny Parker, PI / roadie / metalhead is back in a new serial, every new part starting with a metal video. 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. In the first episode of this new story he was hired to track down the girl who robbed an old buddy of his lottery ticket. See previous parts here.
This time the video is Slipknot's People = Shit but with a very different video. It will make sense when you read this episode.

THREE

“What the hell happened to you?” Casey asked Lenny as he walked into her apartment. “You didn’t go into a moshpit again, did you? You’re getting too old and slow for that shit.”

“I ran into a fist leaving a bar,” Lenny told her, wiping some blood from his nose.

“Shit, sit down. Let me clean that up a bit,” Casey said.

Lenny sat down on the ratty couch in her apartment. There wasn’t much furniture but the walls were covered with old concert flyers. Casey used to go to nursing school before dropping out so she seemed to be the best person to visit after his little encounter at the Tower Club.

Casey wet a cloth and washed his face with a tenderness he really hadn’t seen her exhibit before. As she did he told her exactly what happened.

“Leave it up to you to get beaten up within hours after taking on a case. Philip Marlowe has nothing on you.

“If only I was as good an investigator. Or as witty,” Lenny said and winced when the cloth hit a painful part of his nose.

“Right. You’re lucky. Nothing broken. Won’t even need stitches. Must hurt like hell, though. Let me give you some medicine,” Casey said and offered him a bottle of Jack.

Lenny took a long pull, making an aaaah sound as the booze made the familiar slightly burning but pleasant sensations it does.

“Let me put on a band-aid on that snozzle of yours. I only have My Little Pony ones left. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Right,” Lenny said. “Nothing says metal better than a pink horse.”

“Prog-metal perhaps? Or stoner metal?” Casey suggested.

Lenny shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We haven’t got any gigs lined up in the next few weeks anyway.”

“True. First time you seem happy about that. So, now what? Are you continuing your investigation or do you choose to keep your teeth?”

“Hey, you should see the other guy. I won the fight. So yeah, I’m continuing my investigation. What kind of private eye would I be when I dropped the case as soon as some dude gets a bit physical.”

Casey chuckled. “You don’t look like you were the winner of the fight.”

“What do you know about fights, you’re a girl?”

That wasn’t Lenny’s smartest choice of words. Casey pinched his nose, causing him to go down on his knees, howling in pain.

“I’m a fucking woman, Lenny. Not a girl. And you know I know all about fights,” Casey said.

“Yeah, yeah. Just kidding. Ow man…” Lenny wiped some tears from his eyes.

“Take another one from the bottle to take care of that pain,” Casey offered.

“I can’t. I’m driving. And imagine that bartender calls that Janey is there. I will have to get behind the wheel right away.”

“Well, it’s not legal already now.” Casey put the bottle against Lenny’s mouth. “Now drink your medicine, I will drive you when it’s needed.”

Lenny had to drink or drown, some whiskey running down his goatee.

As Casey removed the bottle he said, “Thanks. I guess.”

“I’m your pal, Lenny. You know that. You just have to learn to watch your mouth.”

“But wait, you had a few drinks after our show. Are you allowed to drive?”

“I can handle my liquor better than you, tubby. You know that.”

That’s when the openings riff of Black Sabbath’s Iron Man played, Lenny’s ringtone. He answered it.

“She’s there. Great. Buy her a drink on me. I’m coming over right away,” Lenny said in the phone. He disconnected and told Casey, “I’m in luck. Janey showed up at the Tower Club already.”

“Awesome, let’s roll then,” Casey said. “Give me your keys.”

So a few minutes later they were driving. Lenny prayed no cops would have them stop over, because he had to admit Casey was driving okay, but he figured legally she still had too many an alcohol percentage in her blood for sure.

Casey told him as she was driving and he was shotgun he had to shut his mouth and let her choose the music. Some screaming punkrock girl was shouting about Cosmic Bullshit through his speakers. Not his thing.

Before the third song had set in they were already at the Tower Club. Casey parked the car pretty neatly and they got out.

When they walked in the room, KISS singing about their Love Gun they spotted her right away. She was dancing all by herself, more sensual than any stripper. Short, leather skirt. White tank top. Tattoos of geisha’s, dragons and koi fish all over her slender arms. Lipstick red as blood. Almond eyes. Flawless skin. Bleach blond hair. A beauty.

“Wow, she’s hot. That her, right?” Casey whispered to Lenny.

“Seems to be,” he said.

The bartender nodded to Lenny who gave him a wink.

“What is she drinking?” Lenny asked.

“Jack, on the rocks.”

“Of course,” Lenny said. “Okay, give me two of them.”

“What happened to your face, man?” the bartender asked.

“Walked into one of your customers.”

The bartender nodded. “Think I know which one. Alex. Sorry about that, dude.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a pretty hot babe you got tagging along. If you can arrange a date with her for me, I don’t need the backstage pass to any rockband, dude.”

Casey leaned over the bar, smiling her sweetest smile at the bartender. “You could just ask the hot babe herself. She’s not deaf.”

The bartender blushed a bit. “Sorry.”

“You can buy me dinner anytime, but you won’t be getting my pussy unless you develop one yourself. Sorry, buster,” Casey told him.

Lenny walked over to Janey with his glass of Jack. “Here, for you.”

She glanced at him like he was some kind of amusing novelty. Then she said, “Sure, why not.” She drained the Jack like a longshoreman. Or someone from an eighties glamrock band.

Lenny smiled. The game was afoot.

TO BE CONTINUED

Free Fiction: Man's Ruin Part Two (A Lenny Parker serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Lenny Parker, PI / roadie / metalhead is back in a new serial, every new part starting with a metal video. 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. In the first episode of this new story he was hired to track down the girl who robbed an old buddy of his lottery ticket. Read the first part here.

Lenny walked into the Tower Club, they were just playing some AC/DC. There were about twelve people inside, most older guys with tattoos and two women in their forties with way too much make-up. Behind the bar was a wiry guy with a Black Sabbath T-shirt and a buzzcut.

Lenny sat down at the bar and ordered a beer.

“Nice crowd,” he told the barkeeper.

“Huh?”

“Don’t any younger girls come in here?”

“Sometimes. Mostly weekends. Those ladies are always  here, trying to pick up dudes. Divorced women, you know the type.”

“Sure. I like Asian girls myself. Plus when they wear tattoos.”

“No kidding. That’s creepy,” the barkeeper said.

“Why?”

“There’s a regular here, this Asian chick with blond hair and tats everywhere. Incredibly hot.”

“No kidding. Has she been in today?”

“Last time I saw her was yesterday. Went home with this big dude.”

“She sounds great. Do you know her name?”

“Janey they call her. That dude was pretty big though. You wouldn’t want to get on his bad side, trying to put the moves on the chick.”

“Who says it’s serious now?”

The barkeeper shrugged. “Guess you’ve got a point there. I’ve seen her with a lot of dudes, never the same one.”

“So maybe I could be one of them.”

“Who knows. She never seemed too picky.”

“Was that an insult?”

“Sorry, dude. None intended,” the barkeeper said. “Have a beer on me.”

Lenny wasn’t one to say no to free beer, even when he was investigating.  After a sip of it asked, “Could you give me a call when you see her?” He handed the bartender his business card, not the one for his PI gig but the one that identified him as a roadie.

The bartender had a look at the card. “Roadie, huh? Did you work with any bands I might know?”

“Bad Citizen Corporation?”

“The punk band? Cool. Not sure if I should give you a call when Janey is here, though. That sounds kinda wrong and creepy?”

“All in the name of love, man!”

The bartender laughed. “Okay, maybe. If you get me tickets for the next BCC show then?”

“They’re not playing anymore, but I guarantee you a spot on the guest list for the next Necromantic Poets gig.”

“Never heard of them.”

“No? They’re huge in Japan,” Lenny bluffed.

“Hey, how about some service here?” A muscular dude with graying long hair next to Lenny was apparently annoyed he had to wait to get the bartender’s attention.

The bartender told the guy he was sorry and took his order. It consisted of a large beer and a whiskey back. He downed it in the blink of an eye and ordered another. Lenny slowly finished his own drink and left the place.

As soon he was outside a hand grabbed his shoulder. Lenny turned around. The muscular dude from the bar.

“Yeah?” Lenny asked.

“Heard you asking about Janey. Leave her alone. She’s mine,” the muscular guy said.

“Huh? It’s really not cool to see a woman as property these days, dude.”

Lenny saw the fists coming but wasn’t fast enough to evade it. He rolled his head with the punch a bit, minimalizing the impact as much as possible. He was pretty good at taking punches.

Lenny pushed the man away from him. “Not cool!”

The muscular man punched Lenny in the gut. He was even better at taking a punch there, a result of many days on the road eating fastfood and drinking beer.

“Stop it!” Lenny yelled and hit his attacker in the mouth. Blood trickled from enemy’s face. Lenny followed up with another hard push, putting all his considerable weight behind it. The guy stumbled backwards, lost his balance and landed on his ass.

“Bastard!” the muscular man said.

“Hey, you’re the one who started it.”

The muscular man jumped up, tackling Lenny against the floor. On top of him now he started to punch him in the face. The guy was pretty strong but Lenny had muscles of his own underneath his fat. Dragging along all those heavy amplifiers and stuff had been a better workout than a gym. He heaved the graying man off him with a grunt. A painful crack sounded when his back hit the pavement.

Slowly Lenny got up, feeling the blood drip down his chin. His face hurt like hell. He made his way to his Dodge Ram, not looking back, just getting in. He drove off, dared a glance in the rearview mirror and saw the muscular guy still lying on the floor, shaking an angry fist at him.