Mike Faricy - Bite Me

I found my cell on the dining room table, phoned Louie and left a message. I phoned Manning and left another message. Louie phoned back about thirty minutes later, I’d moved as far as the living room couch by that time.

“You okay, you sounded like shit on the message, couldn’t understand a damn thing you said.”

“Shit, Kiki,” I said.

“What are you worried about her for? If she hasn’t already blown her brains out she’s probably on the ledge of a skyscraper convinced she can fly. Hey, I…”

“No, she was here,” I said, then coughed and hacked into the phone.

“Jesus, you gonna make it? What do you mean she was there, where, your place?”

“Yeah, last night.”

“You serious, did you…”

“Knocked at the back door, came in at gun point, drugged me with something, I don’t know what. But she was here.”

“Did you call the cops?”

“I, I left a message, I think.”

“Jesus, stay put, I’m calling nine-one-one. Then I’m calling you back, okay. Dev okay?”

My phone was ringing, annoying the hell out of me.

“Hello,” more coughing and groaning.

“Dev, stay put buddy, cops are on the way.”

“Louie?”

They kept me in the hospital overnight for observation. Then released me the next day and Louie gave me a lift home.

“I don’t know if you’re really lucky or really an idiot, Dev?”

“That’s always the question, isn’t it?”

“Why did you let her in, in the first place?”

“Who, Kiki? She had me distracted, a sort of disguise, then before I knew what was happening she had a gun in my face. Things sort of went downhill from there.”

“Jesus, I suppose she could have just shot you.”

“We discussed that option.”

Louie looked over at me, shook his head then said, “Manning thought it was pretty funny.”

“Yeah, nice sense of humor.”

“Well, at least they found her car.” Louie said.

“Where?”

“The airport.”

“The airport, God, she could be anywhere.”

“Or even still here in town.”

“Don’t even think like that,” I said and shuddered.

“Manning said they got her key ring, he thinks your house and car keys are on it. That’s good for you.”

“I don’t know, what a nut case.” I said.

“Well, if she had your car keys, access to your car, your house, it sort of ties everything together.”

“I suppose, in some bizarre way,” I said.

He dropped me off in front of my place. I was ready for some aspirin and a nap. My house was still a mess, but I could live with that for a few days. I clicked the remote on, stretched out on the couch in front of the television and promptly fell asleep.

Sunnie’s phone call woke me late in the afternoon.

“Dev, sorry I missed your call last night, I was out to dinner with the kids.”

“The kids?”

“Josh and Mandy, we were celebrating, they both made the deans list, I’m so proud. All their hard work is paying off.”

“So you’re changing your tune?”

“You mentioned the laptop,” she said, changing the subject.

“Hunh? Oh yeah, I wanted to get that back to you and wondered if you could help me with a computer thing.”

“Probably. Do you have dinner plans? All I’ve got is leftovers, but there’s plenty.”

I was at Sunnie’s door with a bottle of wine and her laptop later that evening.

“Don’t take it personal,” she said after dinner, “but let me make sure this laptop is still working. What did you do, spill coffee or something on top of this?” she said, wiping her hand across the top of the laptop.

“It was working okay, but it seemed to be getting slower and slower as I was doing my research. Maybe you need a new set of batteries.”

She gave me a look of disbelief as she turned the thing on.

“Oh my,” she said after clicking a couple of different places. “What were you doing, this thing is loaded with viruses. I’m not sure I even want it in the house.”

“Just some research.”

“Research? Where? I’d better wipe this whole thing. Oh my God, what is Girls Gone Wild? Double D and Disorderly? That was your research?”

“It’s sort of a complex issue that…”

“Complex, you were watching porn, oh icky.”

“I may have glanced at something, you know by mistake.”

“I’ll bet. God, Sex Craved…”

”They all just sort of popped up.”

She sprayed a cloth with some sort of disinfectant, they wiped the laptop down.

“This is going to take a while to cleanup. How could you do this on my laptop?”

“It’s not like you have to watch…

“Don’t even answer, creepy, you’re just perverted.”

“Your point?”

“You mentioned something else you need, perv!”

“Yeah, can you do a color scan on my drivers license?”

“Yes, but why?”

“Case I’m working on, I want to see if the holograms pick up.”

“They won’t”

“Yeah, but I need a sample.”

“And it’s your license?”

“Yeah, what you don’t trust me?”

She didn’t say anything but glanced at the laptop, a growing list of things in red letters were displayed on the screen, the porn sites I’d visited over the past month, it didn’t look good.

When I got home I cut out the image from my driver’s license Sunnie had scanned. I taped it in place over the image on Farrell’s license, trimmed the excess and slipped it into my wallet next to the fake police badge.

The following afternoon I went to the KRAZ post office box about two minutes before the post office closed. I checked the box through the little window, it was empty except for a single sheet of folded paper.

“What can I do for you?” the guy behind the counter asked. I was pretty sure he was the same guy who locked the door and hit the lights at the end of the day.

“Box fourteen-seventeen, I got all the way down here and forgot my keys. Can you help me?”

“Are you authorized?”

“Yeah, K-R-A-Z, Thomson Barkwell and me, Farrell Early.”

“Do you have some I.D.”

I flipped open my wallet, my scanned photo taped on Farrell’s license, hiding behind a grimy little plastic window. The badge sat next to it. I counted to myself, at three he looked up at me, down again at the badge, then back up. “Not a problem, fourteen?”

“Fourteen-seventeen, K-R-A-Z.”

“Let me get it for you.”

It felt like an hour, in actuality it was more like three or four minutes. He was whistling the tune, ‘Crazy’ when he returned with a large, white plastic box with metal handles. The thing was about the size of a case of wine bottles and stuffed to overflowing with envelopes.

“Looks like it’s been a while, there were so many we couldn’t fit them into your P. O. Box anymore,” he said, hoisting the container onto the counter and pushing it across to me.

“Out of town for a bit, thanks, appreciate your help.”

“Let me lock up behind you,” he said and held the door for me as I walked out.

By the time I was getting in the Fiesta he’d turned the lights off and had closed for the day.

Sitting at the kitchen counter it took me the better part of an hour to open the envelopes and remove the cash. I reminded myself more than once that every time I opened an envelope I was committing a Federal Offense. I removed a little over eight grand cash, the majority in tens and twenties, a couple of fifties. I spent the next two hours shredding envelopes and notes.

The following afternoon I went to the bank, exchanged the cash for hundreds. Then drove two trash bags of shredded paper to the recycling center over on Pierce Butler Road. On the way back I stopped at The Trend.