Mike Faricy - Bite Me

“Who is this gentleman?” she asked Thompson, indicating me with a movement of her head.

“Security, it’s the sad state of affairs in our great nation that we have to hire protection in order to speak the truth. The silent majority can not continue to sit idly by while…”

I was wondering where the rounds hit. They should have hit the building, or the steps or someone. Nothing. I heard a distant siren that seemed to be getting closer.

We were back up on the sixth floor in KRAZ National Headquarters. We had gathered in Thompson’s dingy little office. Thompson, Farrell, me, two patrol officers and Detective Norris Manning, from Homicide.

“Well, I would hope certain people will take that death threat from the other day a little more seriously, now,” Thompson said, enthroned behind his electric typewriter, looking from me to Manning and then back to me.

Manning’s blue eyes looked exceptionally bright. He nodded his pink, bald head, attacked his chewing gum with his front teeth and didn’t say anything.

Thompson kept his attention on me.

“I thought we hired you for protection. That certainly doesn’t seem to be happening, does it? Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“In my defense? Look, with all due respect, you told me about your news conference literally fifteen seconds before you stepped out the door and in front of the cameras. I barely had time to tell you it was a stupid idea. I believe you told me at some point you were going to handle the PR. Isn’t that right?”

Thompson sighed then attempted to level a withering gaze at Manning, I don’t think it worked.

“And do you have any leads? Any idea what organization is trying to stifle the truth? Who’s trying to eliminate our right to freedom of expression? It seems to me, one of the things you should be doing is to…”

“One of the things I should be doing is getting a list from you of exactly who knew about your news conference, for starters,” Manning interrupted.

“I think we can safely assume it wasn’t one of our contacts in the media,” Thompson said.

“Really, who else knew about the press conference? Unless maybe someone just driving past suddenly developed the urge to take a shot at you?”

Thompson went beet red, I didn’t think Manning’s question seemed so far-fetched.

“Allow me to be blunt, Detective, I find nothing funny about this vicious attempt on our lives,” Thompson replied.

“Nor do I,” Manning glared.

“Tommy, it’s almost five thirty, give me a hand getting the broadcast uploaded. Is that all right Detective? Shouldn’t take us more than five minutes, give us all a moment to collect our thoughts,” Farrell said rising to his feet, stretching, and waiting for Manning’s answer.

“Yeah sure, we’ve got someone at the door. You’re not leaving the office, are you?”

“No sir, just our broadcast booth down the hall.”

That closet, I thought.

“Please be my guest, gentlemen,” Manning said, then turned his gaze toward me.

Farrell wandered out. Thompson waddled after him, still flushed in the face.

“Little twerp,” Manning said, shaking his head.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I think you’re doing a particularly lousy job on protection detail. How did you find these guys anyway? Don’t tell me you’re a fan?”

“No, nothing like that, actually they contacted me. Someone gave them a referral and they called.”

“Gave a referral on you? Jesus, they must have been nuts.”

I couldn’t see anything that would be gained by answering.

“What’s with this joint?” Manning asked. He was examining a number of dust balls from the back of the couch with his fingertips.

“It’s a conservative radio show or station, I guess. They broadcast a fifteen minute radio message, four times a day.”

“That’s it?”

I nodded. “I think the rule of thumb is you have to hear something four times in a twenty-four hour period to make it stick.”

Manning stared at me, wide eyed. “Something’s God damned goofy around here. And they got you through a referral? This ain’t your usual cheating spouse with the babysitter routine. What the hell do you do here, anyway?”

Well, to tell you the truth not very much…”

“There’s a surprise,” Manning scoffed.

“I check out the building and parking lot a few times. Sit around up here. They usually never leave. Well, except for today, but I wasn’t kidding, I didn’t find out about that press conference thing until just before we stepped outside and in front of the cameras.”

Manning nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Be interesting to see if your people find the slugs.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know, it’ll just be interesting,” I said.

“You place the 911 call?”

I shook my head.

“Who then?”

“Tell you the truth, I was watching the shooter’s car disappear down the street and heard the siren in the distance, pretty exceptional response.”

“Yeah well, we’re known for doing exceptional things.” Manning said and then looked up as Farrell and Thompson returned.

“The truth shall not be silenced,” Thompson said, settling back in behind his desk.

“You were going to give me a list of everyone you contacted regarding your press conference.” Manning said and then set about attacking his piece of gum.

Manning kept me cooling my heels at KRAZ for at least another hour. I had to pinch myself to stay awake. The only thing of any interest was a large fly circling around the ceiling light of the front office the thing looked about as desperate as me to find a way out. By the time I was given the okay to flee it was close to eight. I had just pulled up in front of my house when my cell rang. I attempted to read the caller id, couldn’t.

“Haskell Investigations.”

“Oh stop it, quit pretending to sound busy.”

“Hey, Heidi, what’s happening?”

My friend, sometimes lover for a night, and occasional bail bonds person, Heidi Bauer. I was guessing she was on the rebound from another failed relationship.

“Believe me if there was anything going on in my life I wouldn’t be calling you. You eat dinner yet?”

“I’m just on my way home, working late.” I glanced at my watch, almost eight. I pulled back onto the street and headed for Solo Vino, the wine store just a block away. It would take close to two bottles to get Heidi either in the mood or to the point she didn’t care if it was me in her bed. I had about four minutes before they closed.

“Look I’m just doing some leftovers, you interested?”

She must have already completed her standard week of swearing off all men forever and was thinking she could just use and abuse me, which was just fine with me.

“I’m on my way,” I replied and hung up just as I pulled in front of the wine store. I waved wildly at my pal Chuck as he prepared to lock the door.

“Cutting it close,” he said, holding the door for me.

“Emergency rations needed.”

“In other words you’re going to try and get some poor woman intoxicated to the point where she’ll forget how revolting you are.”

“You know me, just drunk enough so they can’t testify.”

“I shouldn’t even let you in. I should just lock the door, go home and rest with an easy conscience.”

“Since when has that ever been fun, here I’ll take these two, no better make it three.”

Heidi doesn’t cook, she never has. So the excellent meal she was taking out of the oven shortly after I arrived came from somewhere. We were at her kitchen counter sipping, midway through the second bottle of wine.