Dark lane, p.1
Dark Lane, page 1
DARK LANE
After waking up from a coma as a result of two slugs in a shootout, Private Detective Kaiser Wrench becomes embroiled in a deadly search for billions of dollars of missing mob money.
Dark Lane
A Poached Parody
P.C. HATTER
Also known as Stacy Bender
Byrnas Books
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Dark Lane
Copyright © 2021 by Stacy Bender
All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Cove Design by Elizabeth Mackey
Art by Sara “Caribou” Miles
CHAPTER 1
Death was calling. I could hear it in the ringing of the phone. Calling me back to New York.
Nine months ago, I’d come down to Florida after a drunk pulled two slugs out of my gut and took it on himself to tell the Grim Reaper he had enough bodies to deal with for the night. The medics had taken care of the walking wounded and repairable after the firefight, while ignoring the dead and nearly dead.
The six below temperature plugged the holes in my carcass and kept me from dying on the spot and kept the pain at bay. The raven puffed up to twice his size when he saw my eyes open, but he was strong enough to pull me from the carnage. With him being a drunk, no one would listen to him.
Ravens can be a determined lot. The bird got me on my feet and stuffed me into the back of his car. He left the windows down and I remember wondering if I was going to get frostbite, my fingers were so cold. The pain growing in my gut chased away the thought, or maybe it was the waking up.
The light in the room was soft, but my eyes refused to focus at first. The black feathered form which hovered around me was unknown to me, but by the smell of blood and alcohol, I figured he was changing bandages. The bird prodded and poked and finally said, “Don’t talk.”
I’d been around too long not to understand that I was messed up and let the bird finish what he was doing. Once he pulled the sheet up to my chin and pulled off his glasses, the bird looked at me in the eyes. “Don’t overexert yourself. Blink once for yes and twice for no, understand?”
I blinked once in acknowledgment.
“Good. Do you know what happened?”
Another blink.
“By all rights, you should be dead, but for some reason you’ve stayed alive these pasted fourteen days under my care.”
With no answer to the statement, I studied the raven. While he was the same one who pulled me from the massacre, he was no longer a drunk. Clean, dressed in white, with a stethoscope draped around his neck, he’d become someone else. He also knew what I was thinking and explained.
“I was a doctor once, still am really. Walking off the job into a bar only gets your license revoked if you work on a patient while blitzed. But I was so fed up with everything. I just walked out, even with my family. Not that they cared. They didn’t bother to report me missing but were quick to declare me dead after the appropriate time. My wife shacked up with someone else, and my offspring ruined their lives with drugs. I guess the fortune I’d amassed from working thirty years in the system which ground me down was too much for them to handle. At least that’s what the newspapers implied. That’s how I found out about them.”
The thought of being taken care of by a nutcase had me testing my fingers and arms for restraints, but the only one I found was my own weakness.
He checked my pulse without a watch and smiled. “I pawned the Rolex a long time ago, but don’t worry. I can do this in my sleep. Do you hurt much?”
When I made a face, he asked, “Not too much pain, I take it?” and I blinked.
“Good. Just lie there and listen, okay? Blink three times if you get tired and don’t want to hear me blathering on.”
I blinked a yes.
“I was at the saloon across the way when the shooting started. A dollar and ten cents in my pocket and already half crocked. While most people ran from the noise, I ran toward it. I have a vague recognition of the sirens and lights, but the cheetah pulling you off the crate and leaving you for dead is stuck in my brain. It was that incident that brought me back to reason and everything I’d learned came back to me.”
He looked down at me and smiled. “I pulled you into my twelve-year-old jalopy I’ve been keeping on the road with stolen plates and brought you here. With my skills, a few tools, and straight alcohol to sterilize, I pulled those slugs out and stitched you up. Didn’t even have antibiotics. Like I said, by all rights, you should be dead.”
The raven looked at his feathered hands and cocked his head. “What I did was unethical, and some would say insane. That I should have taken you to a hospital. But I think if I’d have done that, you’d have died. Am I making any sense?”
I blinked once.
“I’m glad you agree. You almost walked down that dark lane, and no one returns from that.”
A vague memory surfaced of a dimly lit alley. Not completely dark, but I knew where it led to. I took a breath and managed to growl out, “Am I dying?”
“The answer to that is out of my hands and up to you now. But if you don’t mind, please don’t die. Not in my home. If you do, you’ll be taking me with you. A month ago, I wouldn’t have cared what happened to me, but now… Let’s just say, we’ve both been given a second chance.”
I forced the words from lips. “You’re sober.”
“Yes. Completely and forever.” The raven took a hypodermic needle from a side table. “This will help you sleep. No dark lane, just a much-needed rest.”
The bird took good care of me, though I sleep through most of it. Meals were fed to me through IV tubes, but he massaged my limbs and kept the muscles from deteriorating too bad. He even kept my fur brushed out. The day I woke up to the soft light of morning without pain, the bird came into the room looking sleeker and his feathers glossy.
“Feeling better?”
I blinked, yes.
“I think you’re well enough to quit the blinking and talk, but don’t think you can bounce back from those injures like you would from the mumps or a broken leg. What you need now is complete rest. The kind that will drive you insane with doing nothing. Think of it as napping and eating like a newborn cub too young to leave his mother’s side.”
“For how long, Mommy?”
The bird attempted to give me a stern glare, but the humor in his eyes spoiled everything. “Very funny. You’ll know as long as you pay attention to what your body tells you.”
“Will I be the same?”
“That’s something you’ll have to leave up to your body. From the look of your broken strips, I’d say you’ve had an interesting life. Don’t be surprised if your body decides to say it’s time to slow down.”
I caught the odd glance before he could turn away.
“What is it, doc?”
“I looked you up. Did some research. You’re quiet the tiger. Private investigator, Kaiser Wrench.”
“Is that bad?”
“other than you’re supposed to be dead? Not really. There were witnesses to your shooting, and since you were right next to the pilings, it’s assumed you tried to get up and fell into the river. The tide was going out and fast, so anyone in the water would have been swept out to sea. Though there was a search of the mouth of the Hudson river, with no results of course. The press seems to be in a quandary, though. They can’t figure out whether to treat your demise as a great loss or a celebration.”
“What do you think, doc?”
“I’m a doctor. My concern is getting you well.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
The bird paused before asking, “Are you really a killer?”
“Not the way you’re thinking, I do it legally.”
“How so?”
“I’ve got a license to carry a gun. Whether I kill on the street or bring a person to the courts so they can be dealt with depends on the thug I’m going after. During the war, the government gave me a gun, told me who to shot. Does that help any?”
“Yes, I think so.”
I eyed him for a moment before asking, “Would you heal a male knowing they’re headed for execution?”
“I took an oath.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
The bird didn’t voice his answer, but his eyes said it all. A few minutes later he gave me another sedative, and I relaxed into sleep.
I stayed his project because the only thing I could do was stay alive. Caring for myself was virtually impossible. We ended up at his cabin in the Florida Keys. Somehow the ownership of the place was overlooked in his family’s rush to clean out the accounts, and I didn’t question his assets.
The small concrete building sat next to a thirty-foot-deep trench left from the workers who built the road. I remained there with a newspaper, television, AM-FM radio, and a radio to listen in on the boat traffic along with the truckers.
The doctor’s name was Steve Snyder, and on Wednesday he stopped by with the groceries. As we sat looking out the window at the sea, he asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Physically, I’m fine.”
“What about mentally?”
“Cranky. I might be alive, but this isn’t living. How long do I have to play dead?”
Steve handed me a glass of water and took a beer for himself. “If you go back to New York, they’ll kill you.
“And you know this, how?”
“Research. On both of us. I’ve pulled off a medical miracle, and would love to be real a doctor again, but I figure out where to begin. As for you, the papers say that two New York families decided to shoot it out when a don came back from a trip to the old country. No one knows why, but it blew up in their faces. Do you know anything?”
With a nod, I told him what I found out. “The rat who told me what was going on knew that I’d had a run in with the don a couple months prior. Seems someone wanted to kill the don when he came back from his trip and planned to set me up for the kill. You might think me being there instead of making sure I had an iron-clad alibi was stupid, but you don’t understand the mob. When they get something in their head, logic don’t matter. They might be going legitimate, but they still have a network that rivals the feds. I didn’t want to deal with the hassle, so I went there to warn the don.”
“What happened?”
“Good question. The cargo ship was four hours late getting into port. But Gaetano’s males were waiting. I didn’t see any sign of an ambush when I drove up, but they were there. It was like a military operation. Everything happened so fast, but the don must have kept his head covered.”
“But it was a public place. Why there?” asked Steve.
“The wharf isn’t as public as it once was. Don’t forget, it was two in the morning. Plus, the mob still has a hand in union affairs. A few handpicked males for cover and away you go.” I sipped my water and continued. “The plan was to send a few of his guys through the office door instead of the main exit before the don followed. Everyone would pile into a waiting car and off they go. Only I pulled up behind the limo, and just as I climbed out of my car, the gunshots began.”
The doctor blinked, opened his mouth, but said nothing.
I filled in the space. “Brando Zito spotted me. I figure the wolf knew why I was there. He certainly didn’t waste time shooting me with his .357. If I hadn’t plugged him in the head with my .45, he would have made sure I was dead. After that, the only thing I remember was someone yelling and being dragged through the streets.”
Steve crushed the empty beer can in his hand. “These used to be made out of steel.”
“Aluminum pollutes better.”
“They’re supposed to be recycled.”
“How many people do you know who actually do that?”
The raven placed the can on the table and asked, “The don had a few choice words to say about you. Nothing provable though. You held onto that gun until I pried it out of your hand. Even if you had dropped it, there’s no bullet to match it too. The bullet that killed him was never found.”
“I didn’t read that in the papers, doc.”
He smiled. “I still have friends and managed to get a copy of the autopsy report.”
“Does that mean I can go back to New York?”
“I’d rather you not. Perhaps in three months I can give you a better prognosis, but right now you could still die from your wounds if you’re not careful.”
A growl was my only response. The only thing crueler than sitting in the Florida heat with my feet up was watching the raven drink beer. The food of the gods was not on my acceptable consumption list.
“As long as you follow the regiment of diet, medication, and exercise I gave you, you’ll live. Otherwise, you’ll be walking down that dark lane for real.”
“Love your bedside manner, doc. You’ve been hanging around me too long.”
“Just stating the facts. Though your outlook on life seems to have done you more good than my handy work.” He looked me up and down before saying, “Since you’re presumed dead, there was a memorial service for you. A Captain Duke Barrow arranged it. The newspapers reported a very odd array of mourners. They said the funeral home was packed.”
“Luckily I didn’t leave any clients hanging.”
“Your secretary said she was going to keep your office open.”
“Velvet has her own license and knows what she’s doing.” Suddenly I wasn’t feeling so good. A weird empty sensation came over me and an odd buzzing sounded in my ears. The doctor was out of his seat and at my side in an instant. He had me out of the chair and on the floor while he checked me over and muttered.
When I opened my eyes, he said, “Seems there is a chink in your mental armor.”
After a few wet towels, he got me back in the chair, but I felt too weak for talking.
“Rest. I don’t think this little incident was life threatening, but it does give me some concern. How are you feeling?”
“Just peachy, doc.”
The first few weeks of my stint in Florida I was stuck in a chemical induced lethargy I didn’t want to go back to. When he finally cut down on the drugs, I was able to sit up and choke down a half cup of coffee. I was all my body would allow.
“How do we rejoin the living?” asked Steven.
“What do you mean, doc?”
“Just that. We can’t stay here forever. I hid enough money from my family, but accessing it is a bit of a pain. And you must admit, the boredom of this place will get to us. Besides, the old jalopy is smoking. With the bad tires and noisy muffler, I’m sure to get pulled over with stolen New York plates. I don’t want to go to jail.”
“You still have your paperwork?”
“Yes.” The bird patted his chest where he kept his wallet. “Driver’s license, voter’s registration, medical ID, and all.”
“Then buy a new car along with new clothes. Something that makes you look like you’ve been in Florida for a while. Golf shirt and pants.”
“I detest golf.”
“Fishing then. The point is to make everyone believe retirement didn’t suite you.”
“But I’m legally dead.”
“So What? Mistakes happen. If someone brings it up, act appalled.”
“Is it really that simple?”
“Doc, you’d be surprised what’s possible.”
The day death called, not to take me down the dark lane but back to New York, the doctor wasn’t around. Normally, when anyone called, it was medical or household related, so I didn’t think anything of it. I should have known better.
With as much growl in my voice as I could muster, I picked the receiver up off the cradle and answered, “Yes.”
“Hi Kaiser, are you feeling better?” The German shepherd’s voice sent a chill up my spine, but his tone was pleasant. The firefight at the dock didn’t matter, and all was normal, our relationship in tacked.
“How’d you find me?”
“Last time I checked, I was a cop. A captain, in fact.”
“Is this a safe line?”
“Stop worrying. I’m calling from a phone booth in a department store, and I doubt anyone else could have tracked you down without police help because you were damn hard to find.”
“Then why the call?”
“Someone shot Allen Reece.”
The silence between us hung heavy in the air, and I figured we were both thinking the same thing. We’d both known Allen Reece for years, and like me, he fought in the war. Only the caribou ended up in the intelligence side of things. The return to civilian life suited some more than others. While Duke made captain on the police force and I got my PI license, Allen became a world class bum.
“What happened, Duke?”
“Someone shot him in the gut during a break in.”
“Who?”
“Nothing definite, but we’re thinking it was Raffaele Zito. Remember him? You shot his brother.” Duke waited while I said a few choice words before saying, “Right now, Allen is in the hospital asking for you. The doctor’s say he could go at any time.”
“I’ll be there. And Duke… how? How is Velvet?”
By the tone of his voice, the dog must have been smiling. “Waiting. That lynx refused to believe you were dead.”
Steve wasn’t happy with me leaving for New York, but he arranged for a first-class seat on an early flight. I was able to stretch out my legs and sleep the entire time in a natural way without drugs. The only downside were the dreams.
The crane that was the stewardess woke me just before the plane landed. “Bad dream?” she asked. “You looked like you wanted to strike someone.”
