|
Welcome to the Official Web Site of Harol Marshall 
|
HOLY KOW! Chapter One Bugsy Burnstein’s got a job for us, Polly. How’s that for news?” My loyal secretary poked his head in my office door without knocking. “Are you decent?” he added, forgetting our recently established never instituted before last week, office rules. “Have you forgotten about knocking before entering?” I asked in a pique. “I can never remember which comes first,” Bunny said, in mock humility. I tried to smile, but my mood wasn’t the best this early in the morning and Mondays as anybody who knows me knows, aren’t my best time of the month. “This’ll wipe the grim off your face,” Bunny continued, in response to my facial contortions. Bunny’s a stand-up comic on the weekends, which means he’s impervious to all forms of rejection even by me, the source of our recent rule changes. “Give me the bad news first,” I said, maintaining my dour demeanor even though I could feel myself lightening slightly at the prospect of working for real money. “Just joshin’ you,” he said. There’s no bad news, that’s the good news. And here’s even better news. Bugsy’s paying us one-fifty an hour plus expenses if we put his job at the top of our priority list. That’s a record fee for us, Boss. Only a couple of hours work and you can buy yourself a new pair of shoes.” Bunny’s grin spread across his face like butter on a hot griddle. He got me on that one and I returned his happy face with what might be called a wry smile. I love shoes, the wilder the better, even though I stick to basic military footwear at the office. “Who’s Bugsy ripping off now?” I asked, aware that our best shyster friend wasn’t known for his charitable donations so if he was giving he was getting, double and more. “Are you sitting down, Boss?” “What does it look like I’m doing, resting my pants on the chair while my butt flies over Honduras? What’s the matter with you this morning?” “You know what I mean, Boss. Are you sitting down emotionally?” I gave him my best wiseass look. “And the last time you worried about my emotional state was?” “You can try to aggravate me all you want this morning, Polly, but I’m not biting. This is the best news we’ve had since Cinda Mae Bradbury resigned as our number one client. Bugsy’s client is Harry Kow, that’s who, and Bugsy’s on retainer to get him out of his latest scrape, but he needs our help.” I perked up. Maybe Bunny was right. I suppose I should treat him better but I was still upset over his latest little number with my sister. “Harry Kow might change our luck,” I said, deciding to be agreeable, “and we could use some luck of the non-bad variety since our bottom line has nearly bottomed out thanks to the last stiff we represented, no pun intended.” Bunny laughed out loud, humoring me. “Harry Kow.” I said, savoring the name. The right Reverend Harry Kow of the multi-billion dollar golden cathedral’s New Korea Nationalist Christian Church. The man was making more headlines in Hollywood lately than the disappearance of Paris Hilton’s underwear. “Holy Kow,” Bunny said. “That Kow.” “I know which Kow, Bun.” I was on the verge of getting irritated again. “What’s Kow done that I haven’t heard about yet?” “You name, he’s done it,” Bunny said. “Flim-flam, fraud, extortion, and now maybe murder.” “Maybe murder? How does that work? Like half-dead?” Bunny ignored my sarcasm. He was too giddy over the possibility of Berger Investigations, Inc., earning a ton of money for the first time in its owner’s, P.I. Pauline Isabel Berger’s short life, if you can call forty-two years short, which I do. Like his wife has gone missing,” Bunny said. “Harry Kow claims she was kidnapped. Bugsy thinks she ran away. The D.A. is hinting at murder charges only there ain’t a body yet. In fact, nobody knows if there’s a crime. That’s where we come in.” Bunny stood looking at me like I was his audience and he expected applause. “I need to think about this for a minute or two,” I said, just to irritate him. “I’ll get back to you.” “Long as you don’t wait ‘til the Kows come home,” Bunny said. “Or you’ll have a Kow, right?” I wasn’t planning to go one-on-one with Bunny, an exercise in futility on my part, but Bunny wasn’t up for one-upsmanship today and instead, we laughed together for the first time in maybe a week. Bunny stood in my office shifting from foot to foot waiting for my response. It didn’t take me long to make up my mind to take on the case. As I told Bunny, “I know a cash Kow when I see one.” No sooner had I agreed to take Bugsy’s case when all hell broke loose. Holy…! Get down, Polly,” Bunny screamed, tackling me and dragging me behind his desk as a flurry of gunshots rang out. “What the…?” I barely got the words out of my mouth before our building exploded with a fusillade of flying bullets and shattering glass and metal. The cannonade rivaled the fourth of July at Dodger Stadium. I hoped our building’s earthquake fortifications were up to code because there was a whole lot of shakin’ going on and it wasn’t the Jerry Lee Lewis kind. I listened for screams wondering if anyone downstairs had been hit, but the only echoes reaching my ears were of the non-human variety. Why was somebody shooting up our place anyway? My blood began to boil. As far as I could tell, we had no grudges coming our way. Business was too slow and our most recent bad guys were either dead or in jail. I felt my blood pressure rising and my adrenalin spiking. My state of mind went from angry to berserk. And then the bedlam ended almost as fast as it erupted. Neither Bunny nor I moved, our hearts pounding in anticipation of another round of gunfire. We barely breathed, calibrating our hearing to distinguish the slightest sign of a second barrage, but the only sound reaching my ears was a deafening silence. Bunny’s body lay tight against mine, shielding me from harm except for the crushing of my rib cage and the squashing of my head, which partly explained the quiet encompassing the office. “Bun,” I squeaked, “I can’t breathe.” “Sorry, Boss.” Bunny, rolled off me but stayed glued to my side, his right arm holding me down. “Are you okay?” he whispered. “Of course I’m okay,” I gasped, struggling out of his choker hold. “Did any stray bullets come in here?” I took a breath. “No,” I said, answering my own question and thanking our lucky stars the mayhem appeared confined to the first floor. “Whoever it was, they were aiming at somebody else, not us.” If my assessment wasn’t correct then we were dealing with the gang who couldn’t shoot straight. “Sounds to me like somebody shot up Rosa’s Tarot Card Salon downstairs,” Bunny volunteered, as if my bullet locator was stuck in the off position. “Why would anybody shoot up Rosa’s place?” I asked, trying to wiggle free but Bunny’s arm clung to me like a magnet on Iron Man. “Maybe she read somebody’s cards wrong and they didn’t like what the spirits said about their future.” “She never does that,” I said. “Reads the wrong cards?” “No. Tells people bad things about their future. Only good things.” “How do you know?” Bunny said. “Have you been paying her to look into your future? If so, you’re wasting your money. I can tell your future for free. Just look at your past.” Now was not the time to argue with Bunny over my current involvement with my ex. “I think we can get up now, Bun. Sounds like the show is over.” Bunny twitched a muscle or two. “And thanks for protecting me,” I added, trying to change the subject and redirect Bunny’s attention. “If the bad guys had been firing up here, you would have saved my life.” “So, what kind of thanks do I get for that, Boss?” His voice sounded husky and his lips were a little too close to mine. I made an executive decision. “A raise,” I said, sitting up so fast Bunny’s arm flopped onto my lap. “A dollar an hour. How’s that?” “I know you can do better,” he said, not moving his arm again, “and besides, I don’t need the money. My weekend stand-up gigs are paying my bills. I work for you for beer money.” “Let’s not get back into old habits,” I told him, brushing carpet threads off my shirt, “we made a deal and besides, you’re still seeing my twin sister. We’re looking at a serious problem, here,” I reminded him. “Somebody in this building, maybe Rosa, could be dead and all you can think about is a roll in the hay?” “I’m into threesomes and who needs hay?” Bunny winked, which in my previous life would be all it took for me to succumb to Bunny’s charms, but a threesome with my sister was a major turnoff and I’d already made a deal with my ex that I planned to honor, which reminded me. “I’m calling Johnny,” I told Bunny, knowing that would cool his ardor faster than a visit from the polar express. Johnny is a Hollywood detective third grade and even though he’s my ex-husband, we’re exploring the possibility of a status renewal. I use the conditional tense here because I haven’t fully committed to reviving past mistakes. Too bad you can’t buy marriage insurance. I could use a paid-up policy. “I’m calling 911,” Bunny said, unclipping his cell phone from his belt. “Unlike some members of the HYPD, one in particular, they won’t hit on you when they arrive.” He paused, “at least, not right away.” Before either Bunny or I could finish dialing our respective HYPD numbers, we noticed the clamor of footsteps pounding up the stairs. The two of us ducked behind Bunny’s metal desk with our guns drawn ready to blow away the next bad guy who invaded our space. The office door blasted open slamming the paint off our newly refurbished wall. “Polly, Polly, where are you?” A familiar hysterical voice screeched my name. I stood up and holstered my Glock. “I’m right here Rosa, are you okay?” “If by okay you mean, am I alive? Then, barely,” replied Rosa the tarot card reader before fainting dead away on my new rose-colored carpet, adding a bit of irony to the beginning of what looked like an incomprehensible day. Back to the Bookstore |