Monthly Archives: August 2012

Who the Fuck Stole My Shit?- Chapter VII

                                                VII

 

The flashing lights of cop cars surrounded the bank. Spectators gathered around to see if anything was happening, and mostly stayed behind the yellow tape, save for the usual idiots who wanted a closer look. Officers stood by with their clubs ready if anyone crossed the line.

Frank pulled up into a handicapped parking space and placed the police department parking permit in the window. Joe’s phone chirped. ‘It’s a text from Titus,’ he said. He says: ‘What the fuck is this shit downtown?’ ‘

‘He must be down here somewhere,’ Frank said as they walked toward Ferris, standing by the bank door talking to two cops and some flustered people who must have been in the bank.

‘What’s up, Pops?’ Joe asked, as they ducked under the yellow tape, flashing their Bay City Police Department junior badges, as if it was necessary. Ferris looked pissed off.

‘Another goddamn robbery, that’s what,’ he said angrily. He motioned to a cop and pointed to a woman leaning against the bank wall.’ Jake, get her story.’

‘You got it, chief.’ Jake took out his pad and paper and approached the nervous woman.

‘Anyone get a good look at the suspect?’ Frank asked, thankful for the feeling of Xanax flowing through his system.

‘It was a woman,’ Ferris answered. ‘Apparently she was acting alone, or at least she had no one with her. Red hair, sunglasses, Yankees hat, a large back and an even bigger gun, according to several bank customers. She was a pro- in and out in four minutes.’

‘Sounds like you, Frank,’ Pepe said, nudging his friend.

‘Let me guess, ‘ Skippy said. ‘She fled in a black car with salmon-colored stripes.’

‘No,’ said Ferris. ‘It wasn’t the Pinkmobile.’ Skippy grimaced. ‘But it was a black convertible.’

‘We know where it is,’ Pepe chimed in. ‘ She smacked it into a tree by Skip’s house, and then snatched his car. We also think she was the Murchison burglar too.’

‘At least that’s our theory.’ Joe added. ‘ She can’t be from around here. but she seems to know the area. She’s been busy.’

‘Good work boys.’ Ferris said. ‘ Can you take Jake and Sam here to the car? They can check it for anything and hopefully get some prints off the steering wheel.’

‘Sure thing,’ Frank said. ‘Let’s go.’

A haze of cigarette smoke suddenly appeared by them, followed by Titus. ‘What the fuck? What’s the deal?’

He fist bumped the boys and shook Ferris’s hand, taking another drag off his cigarillo.

Again, the Hardleys repeated the events of the last twenty-four hours. Joe thought about Lorraine and nearly pitched a tent in his pants. Stupid Xanax, he thought.

Titus was one of the few black teens at Bay City High School. His father was a history professor at a nearby state college, and his mother was the city assessor. Titus was obsessed with the unlikely tandem of 15th-century philosophy and firearms. Not many people in town could quote Spinoza one minute and discuss assault rifles the next. His gun collection, while most likely illegal, was almost a large as his library.

When the Hardleys finished their story, Titus exhaled a large puff of smoke and stomped the cigarillo butt into the sidewalk.

‘That’s the problem here,’ he said. ‘Too many white people with too much time on their hands. There are ways to get at the system from the inside, not this crazy daylight robbery bullshit.’

‘And how would you attack the system, Titus?’ Ferris asked.

‘I wouldn’t, of course, Mr. H.  I just read a lot.’

‘Well,’ Frank said, let’s lead the officers to the car.’

‘I’ll follow you on The Rage,’ Titus said, referring to his souped up motorcycle that was most likely not street legal. Since all of Joe and Frank’s friends that helped solve crimes seemed to skirt the law, Ferris accepted their cooperation with the department and looked the other way in cases of shaky legal ground.

The officers, Jake and Sam followed the SUV, followed by Titus. Ferris stared at the crowd and kicked the pavement.’

‘Goddamn rubberneckers,’ he muttered.

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Hardleyz- Installment VI

VI

 

‘Skip, we think we know who took your car.’ Frank said as they sat down in Skippy’s room.

‘Really?’ Skippy said excitedly.’ Where is it? Who did it?’

‘Well, we don’t know where it is,’ Joe said. ‘Or who took it.  Or if she still has it.’

‘She? What the fuck?’ Skippy exclaimed, crumpling his empty beer can and throwing it into the corner. Joe and Frank explained the story (leaving out the sexual encounters)  as Skippy opened his dorm fridge and offered them Blotto beer. They accepted the cans even though they thought it tasted like cat piss. Frank worried that Debbie could be in her room, eavesdropping on their conversation.

‘Well, fuck me running,’ Skippy said. ‘That’s one warped story. Did you think of tying the Murchison case to this redhead? We don’t get this kinda shit happen around here much.’

‘            Maybe where you hang out,’ Pepe said.

Skippy bolted upright. ‘Dudes! We gotta roll! She could be jacking some other place. With my car! Then the pigs will think I did it!’

‘Uh, we’ll take care of the pigs, Skip’, Joe replied.

‘Oh- uh- yeah,’ Skippy said, sheepishly.

‘But where do we look for this red snapper?’ Pepe asked. ‘ She must be a little soft in the head, stealing an obvious car like that.’

‘ I was vaccumming it,’ Skippy sighed. ‘I left the door open when I went in the house to clean.’

‘Oops,’ Joe said. Suddenly his phone started ringing Wagner. ‘Oh shit. Dad.’

‘Joe,’ Ferris said on the other line. ‘Meet me at the Shitibank downtown. There’s been another robbery.’

‘Now we’ve got someplace to go,’ Joe said, putting the phone back in his pocket.

The Hardley Boys- Chapter V

 

‘                                                      V

 

‘Who the hell would swipe the Pinkmobile?’ Pepe said as they sped across town.

‘Someone with questionable taste,’ Joe replied. ‘ Skippy must be shitting bricks right now.’

Skippy and the Hardleys had been friends since childhood. He was passionate about his car, a black mid-1980s Corvette that he painted salmon-colored racing stripes on. Skippy loved the stripes, but to every body else, they looked pink, hence the boys name for the car.

‘They’re salmon-colored,’ Skippy insisted. ‘Salmon. It’s my favorite fish.’

Then the trickerations started. Joe slipped into Skippy’s driveway one night and plastered the bumper with unicorn and rainbow decals. Skippy knew Joe was the culprit, so one day at school when Joe was in his first class, Skippy covered Joe’s SUV windshield with pamphlets from the Jehovah’s Witnesses and NAMBLA. He also left a copy of Barely Legal glued to the window. Joe stopped his pranks, and was the laughing stock of the school for weeks, yet Skippy remained silent, secretly rejoicing to himself.

When their friend Titus first saw the car, he noted that Skippy ‘should have pink on the inside. That way, when he goes through a car wash, the car looks like a dripping wet snatch.’

They were a few blocks from Skippy’s house when Pepe noticed the rear end of a car sticking out from the car woods on the side of the road. Thinking it could be the Pinkmobile, he pointed.

‘Dude!’ he yelled to Frank. ‘Pull over! I see a car.’

They stopped and got out to examine the car. Joe studied it carefully. ‘Hey! ‘ He said. ‘This is the car that nearly hit us!’

Pepe confirmed Joe’s thought. ‘ That fuckin’ bitch. ‘

The front end of the car lay there crumpled into a tree. Skid marks led from the road to the accident, and footprints led back up to the road. The car appeared barren.

‘S he couldn’t have gone far,’ Frank said. ‘And I would venture a guess that she is the thief of Skippy’s car. He’s only two blocks up the road.

‘Fucknuts,’ Pepe said nervously. ‘This looks like someone who knows a thing or two about crime. She’s probably packing heat. Shit.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle. He gulped down a pill and offered the bottle to the Hardleys.

‘Xanax?’ he asked.

‘ Fuck yeah!’ the boys said in unison.

 

Chapter Four of ‘Who The Fuck Stole My Shit?’

 

 

                                                III.

 

The boys slept in after hours of destroying virtual people and objects, then came downstairs to find their father reading the paper and their mother making breakfast.

Ferris looked up from his paper.’ Well, the Murchisons have been good about keeping the robbery out of the paper. I’m glad we don’t have any gossipers on the fore.’

            ‘Yet,’ Joe added, munching on a piece of toast. ‘Wait ‘til tomorrow.’

‘I was thinking we should go by the Murchisons around noon,’ Frank said.

            ‘That would be perfect,’ Ferris said.

            ‘Should we pack heat?’ Joe asked, thinking about his .38 Magnum in his nightstand.

            ‘I don’t think that will be necessary’ Ferris responded. They want your help, not your bullets. I’m heading to work. Call me if you find out anything.’ He folded the paper, and picked up his briefcase, kissing Gladys on the way out. She looked like she was way out as well.

            A few hours later, they were in Frank’s Beemer, heading to the Murchison estate.

‘Hey!’ said Joe. ‘ Let’s call Peep!’

            ‘Sounds like a plan,’ Frank replied. Joe hit Pepe Cohen’s code on speed dial and waited for an answer.  He was unsure if Pepe was even awake yet.

            Pepe Cohen was an old friend of the Hardleys. His father was Jewish, and his mother was Puerto Rican, so his motto was ‘Fuck it. Everybody hates me anyway.’ He had one week left to serve out his suspension for a DUI, so the Hardleys made sure to pick him up for activities, and to keep him from getting bored. Since Pepe’s father was the main pharmacist and town, and Pepe helped stock the back room, using his not-so-legal access to swipe painkillers and tranquilizers. He was always happy to share his stockpile with his friends, and they were happy to oblige him. When they quizzed him about the legality of his activities, he merely replied, ‘Fuck it. It’s not my store.’

            Pepe was waiting for them outside his house. He jumped into the back seat and reclined from door to door.

            ‘Dudes. I need me some coffee like right now,’ he said, yawning.

            ‘Did you double dip last night?’ Joe asked.

            ‘Yeah, Pepe replied. ‘I’m alright, but my head feels like a jellyfish with a hard-on.’

‘I could use a jolt,’ Frank said, as he pulled into The Java Shock’s parking lot.

            A few minutes later, clutching their double chocolate triple espressos, they pulled out of the parking lot, and started to make a left turn on Main Street. All of a sudden, a black convertible blazed by them, nearly sideswiping Frank’s car.

            ‘What the fuck?’ Joe yelled, as the other car sped away. Frank had to back up into the parking lot to avoid traffic coming from their left side.            

            ‘That asshole nearly took us out!’ Frank screamed.

            ‘It was a chick, ‘ Pepe said. ‘A redhead. She looked pretty hot, too.’

            ‘Whatever,’ Joe said. ‘She’s still a dick. That could have been one big Mongolian clusterfuck.’             ‘I’d like to get another look at her,’ Pepe said dreamily.’ There’s nothing like a sea bobbing up and down on your knob.’

‘Dude,’ Frank said, turning left onto Main Street.

                       

                                    IV

They arrived at the Murchison estate a few minutes late. The main house, which would have been called a mansion fifty years before the steroid-infused houses started popping up, was set back from the road with a long wide driveway and a finely crafted marble path leading up to the front door. The foliage was impeccably groomed, with some exotic looking flowers on the side of the path. There were two small cottages in the back, along with a well and a sleek garage where the Murchisons apparently kept their fancy cars.

   ‘We’re not gonna hafta pull the stick out of dude’s uptight WASP ass, are we?’ Pepe asked with trepidation.

            ‘Naw,’ Frank said. ‘Pops talked to him. He’s cool.’ He rang the doorbell, and after a minute, Sean, the younger Murchison opened the door. He was about thirty, with ragged hair and bloodshot eyes. He wore a ripped t-shirt from the yacht club, and Bermuda shorts. Pepe identified several different odors emanating from him. Not the typical Wall Street d-bag, he thought.

‘You must be the Hardleys,’ Sean said, and introductions were made all around. ‘Come on in. The old man’s on the back porch. We’re pretty pissed off. Of course, Dad and I have different ways of dealing with this shit. He came home and started screaming at everybody, while I split work early and hit the bars early with some friends. I took the 6 A.M. train home this morning.’

‘Sounds like fun,’ Joe said.

The house and backyard were just as immaculate as the entrance. Lorne Murchison sat in a chair by a large umbrella-covered table. He held a cigarette in one hand and a healthy dose of Scotch in the other.  He was about sixty, but tanned and in good shape, with slightly thinning sandy colored hair.

‘Hey Pops,’ Sean said. ‘ This is Joe and Frank Hardley, and, uh, Pedro.’

‘Pepe,’ Cohen muttered.

‘Have a seat, boys,’ Lorne said, offering them cigarettes. Out of courtesy, Joe and Frank took one, while Pepe was all too eager to take one.

‘Well this has been a shitty week,’ Lorne began. ‘I haven’t been this stressed since my wife died. Some of the stolen stuff belonged to her family, which is a shitstorm on its own.’

‘What did the burglar take?’ Joe asked.

‘All my financial documents, bonds, our wills, secret passwords to offshore bank accounts, a lot of computer stuff, hard drives with our financial history, and other stuff I’m sure I haven’t figured out yet. Jesus.’ He took a swig of his whisky.

‘Do you have an estimate of what everything was worth? Frank asked.

‘Hell,’ Lorne said. ‘ It’s probably somewhere between fifteen and twenty million.’

Pepe whistled.’ Fuckin’ A. That’s a mess of ducats.’

‘Sure as hell is,’ Lorne said, lighting another cigarette. ‘ Around three o’clock yesterday, I got a call on my cel from Imelda, our housekeeper, who said that the office door downstairs was open, and the place was ransacked. No signs of forced entry.’

‘ Does Imelda have a key to the office?’ Joe asked.

‘It’s more than a key,’ Lorne replied.’ It’s a heavy-duty security system with a series of pass codes and a pass card. The only people that have access to it are myself, Sean, and unfortunately, Jed Macmillan, our groundskeeper. He hasn’t been the same since his wife left him. ‘

‘We go to school with his son, Lucas,’ Frank said.

‘ Lucas is a good boy, ‘ Lorne said. ‘But sometimes he has the wits of a seahorse. Yet he and Jed have never given me any problems in their ten years here.’

‘I think Jed does a bit of gambling,’ Sean added. ‘That doesn’t help his defense right now.’

‘Yeah,’ Pepe chimed in. I’ve seen him at the OTB, picking used betting slips off the floor. ‘

‘Can we talk to the Macmillan’s?’ Frank asked.

‘Probably a little later,’ Sean said. ‘ I think they’re sleeping off some lousy hangovers.’

‘Which is a good thing for their defense,’ Frank said. ‘It would be hard for someone really plastered to pull this scheme off.’

‘ Or drunkenly brave enough to do it,’ Lorne said. ‘Still, I can’t accept that Jed and Lucas did this, even though they have motive, opportunity, and necessity.’

‘We’ll snoop around town to see if any body’s seen anything,’ Joe said.

‘Just keep it on the down-low,’ Lorne said. ‘I’m already up shit creek with a leaky paddleboat with this mess. The last thing I need is a bunch of jackhole reporters sniffing up my ass.’

‘We will be discreet,’ Frank said.’ Later on, we’ll come back and talk to the Macmillan’s.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ Lorne said, downing the last of his scotch. He led them to the door. ‘Good luck, and let me know what you find.’

They were strolling to the car when Frank’s phone rang. It was their friend Skippy Morris, Debbie’s brother.

‘Shit’, Frank said. I hope he hasn’t found out I’m banging his sister.’ He answered the phone. ‘What up, Skip?’

‘Dude!’ Skippy sounded from the other end of the phone. ‘I’m fucked. Some dickwad jacked my car!’

‘We’ll be right over,’ Frank said.

 

Chapter 3 of ‘Who The Fuck Stole My Shit?’

 

                                                III.

 

The boys slept in after hours of destroying virtual people and objects, then came downstairs to find their father reading the paper and their mother making breakfast.

Ferris looked up from his paper.’ Well, the Murchisons have been good about keeping the robbery out of the paper. I’m glad we don’t have any gossipers on the fore.’

            ‘Yet,’ Joe added, munching on a piece of toast. ‘Wait ‘til tomorrow.’

‘I was thinking we should go by the Murchisons around noon,’ Frank said.

            ‘That would be perfect,’ Ferris said.

            ‘Should we pack heat?’ Joe asked, thinking about his .38 Magnum in his nightstand.

            ‘I don’t think that will be necessary’ Ferris responded. They want your help, not your bullets. I’m heading to work. Call me if you find out anything.’ He folded the paper, and picked up his briefcase, kissing Gladys on the way out. She looked like she was way out as well.

            A few hours later, they were in Frank’s Beemer, heading to the Murchison estate.

‘Hey!’ said Joe. ‘ Let’s call Peep!’

            ‘Sounds like a plan,’ Frank replied. Joe hit Pepe Cohen’s code on speed dial and waited for an answer.  He was unsure if Pepe was even awake yet.

            Pepe Cohen was an old friend of the Hardleys. His father was Jewish, and his mother was Puerto Rican, so his motto was ‘Fuck it. Everybody hates me anyway.’ He had one week left to serve out his suspension for a DUI, so the Hardleys made sure to pick him up for activities, and to keep him from getting bored. Since Pepe’s father was the main pharmacist and town, and Pepe helped stock the back room, using his not-so-legal access to swipe painkillers and tranquilizers. He was always happy to share his stockpile with his friends, and they were happy to oblige him. When they quizzed him about the legality of his activities, he merely replied, ‘Fuck it. It’s not my store.’

            Pepe was waiting for them outside his house. He jumped into the back seat and reclined from door to door.

            ‘Dudes. I need me some coffee like right now,’ he said, yawning.

            ‘Did you double dip last night?’ Joe asked.

            ‘Yeah, Pepe replied. ‘I’m alright, but my head feels like a jellyfish with a hard-on.’

‘I could use a jolt,’ Frank said, as he pulled into The Java Shock’s parking lot.

            A few minutes later, clutching their double chocolate triple espressos, they pulled out of the parking lot, and started to make a left turn on Main Street. All of a sudden, a black convertible blazed by them, nearly sideswiping Frank’s car.

            ‘What the fuck?’ Joe yelled, as the other car sped away. Frank had to back up into the parking lot to avoid traffic coming from their left side.            

            ‘That asshole nearly took us out!’ Frank screamed.

            ‘It was a chick, ‘ Pepe said. ‘A redhead. She looked pretty hot, too.’

            ‘Whatever,’ Joe said. ‘She’s still a dick. That could have been one big Mongolian clusterfuck.’             ‘I’d like to get another look at her,’ Pepe said dreamily.’ There’s nothing like a sea bobbing up and down on your knob.’

‘Dude,’ Frank said, turning left onto Main Street.

Here’s the first installment in my, uh, updated serialisation of the Hardy Boys.

THE HARDLEY BOYS in “WHO THE FUCK STOLE MY SHIT?”

Frank Hardley”s tongue was firmly ensconced inside Debbie Morris when he heard the muffled sound of Chopin”s Funeral March ringing from his trouser pocket.

“Shit,” he muttered, giving her labia one last lick. Debbie”s moans ceased as Frank pulled out his hone.

“Sorry, honey,” he whispered. “But when Dad calls me on this line, it usually means business.

““Hey Pops,” he answered, trying not to lead his father on to where he was. Debbie pulled up her panties and skirt, which was a tricky maneuver in the back of Frank”s BMW.

“ Hello, Frank,” Ferris Hardley replied. Ferris was a well-respected police detective in Bay City, and his two sons inherited his detection skills, among a few other traits.

“ Lorne Murchison called us down here.  There”s been a bit of trouble.”

“ What kind of trouble?” Frank asked.

“ He wouldn”t get into it over the phone. All he kept yelling was “Who the fuck stole my shit?”

“Must be pretty major. The Murchisons are pretty loaded.”

True on both counts. I want to talk to you boys about it over dinner. Can you be home in fifteen?

Frank looked of at Debbie”s lovely blue eyes, then down at the bulge in his pants.

“Uh, sure,” he said, hesitatingly.

“Great. I”ll see you then. I”ll call Joe.”

Frank hung up and put the phone away. He leaned over and kissed Debbie.

“You taste good”, she smiled.

“ No, YOU taste good. “ He kissed her again. “Sorry, sweetie,” he intoned. “Dad”s got business for us. I”ll drop you off at home. Rain check?”

She nodded with a smirk. “You should at least wash your face before you get home. “

“Ha!” Frank chimed. They climbed into the front seat and drove out of the secluded grove they used for their early evening trysts.

Joe Hardy was luckier before his father called. Lorraine”s parents were both at work, so she had the house to herself. They kissed on her bed.

“Only one thing,” she said, as she unzipped his pants.

“Let me guess,” Joe smiled. “ You”re ragging.”

“Uh-huh”, she murmured as she eased his cock out of his jeans. “ So I”m just gonna have to suck you off.”

“I guess I can live with that,” Joe winked, and lay back on the bed.

A few minutes and several Kleenex later, the couple snuggled on the bed when Joe”s phone rang. It was Wagner”s Ride of the Valkyries- Dad.

Ferris repeated the story to Joe.

“Sorry honey,” Joe said, kissing Lorraine. Duty calls. Dad”s got a case.”

“Tomorrow?” she asked sweetly. “I get off at six.”

“Then I”ll get you off at seven,” he said, heading for the door.

II

The Hardley family gathered around the dinner table. The Mets game played softly on the television in the living room. The boys” mother, Gladys, served a lovely curried pot roast, and Frank judged from her breath and movement that she”d only had a few Sherries so far. Gladys was an heiress from her late father”s oyster shucking company, but generally kept busy during the school year. Only now, in early summer, most of her activities were on hold, so she busied herself with cocktails and tabloids.

“Christ, Mom” Joe said as he took his empty plate to the sink.” Even if you”ve thrown a few back, you can still cook your ass off.”

“ I like to cook with wine,” she replied.

“Sometimes she even puts it in the food,” Ferris said dryly. “Now boys,” he continued, opening up his notebook,  “ As you probably know, the Murchisons are a father and son investment team in the City”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “ The Wall Street bastards with those crazy legal troubles.”

“ Nothing was ever proved,” Frank said.

“ They”ve always been nice people”, Ferris added. “Although we only know them socially. Mrs. Murchison died a few years ago, leaving Lorne and Sean in their big old house. They”d never had any problems before, and Bay City isn”t exactly known for high-end robberies.

“We”re just left with a few junkies and some methheads,” Frank said.

“Well somebody knew the hell to steal from.” Joe added.

Ferris cleared his throat. “ Lorne wouldn”t go into details, but there were financial papers and lots of high-end computer and electronic equipment. He sounded pretty pissed off.””

“ At least they earned their money,” Gladys said, reaching for the water bong. “Mine was just handed to me.”

“At least you keep busy,” Joe said.

“I”ll smoke to that,” Gladys winked as she drew a lighter to the bong.

“ Save some for me,” Lorne said. He turned back to the boys. “ Can you two go out to the Murchisons tomorrow? They”re expecting you.”

“Damn,” Joe muttered. “Thanks for the warning. “

“We can do it,” Frank said. “ Come on Joe. Let me kick your ass in “Killemall”

“That”s about as likely as Millie Moocher quitting her crack habit,” Joe retorted, punching his brother on the arm. “Call me your truant officer, because I”m gonna be taking you to school.”

They sauntered to the basement to play their favorite video game. The pot smoke drifted down the stairs with them.