Momma Lupe, Book 1 in the Ty Connell 'Novella Series. A Mystery/Suspense Thriller. Cooking or killing -- Momma Had Her Funny WAys

Author:Michael C. Hughes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: murder, mystery, mystery suspense, mystery detective, mystery action suspense thriller, mystery and murder, mystery and crime series, mystery contemporary, murder and mystery thriller, mystery action noir

What had occurred to Connell was that, since Momma’s primary activity was importing and booking girls in strip clubs all around New England, that there had to be a girl or two out there who had been abused, cheated, or otherwise wronged by her. Or by one of the lunatic sons, or one of Momma’s other hired goons. Maybe a girl who might know inside things about Ma's business and be willing to talk about it.

He just had to find one.

And he knew just the guy.

Paul Geddes was a small-time dealer/user and a creature of the late night world of seedy bars, sleazy nightclubs and stipclubs, and all night donut shops. He was a junkie who would sell his mom for a twenty-dollar hit. A true bottom feeder. Every time Connell had met with him he was wearing the same greasy old buckskin jacket and greasy blue jeans that smelled like neither they —nor Paul— had been near a washing for years. And probably hadn’t. The guy had body odor and bad breath that could knock you back a few feet just by saying hello. He was short, stocky, and had teeth so yellow they looked like corn kernels. A true denizen of the netherworld.

But he could get access to information no one else could.

And, as far as intel went, he'd tell you anything, or find out anything —for a price. And he frequented the north end biker club scene to boot, so he'd be well familiar with Ma's operation.

Connell just had to find him. Last time he'd seen Geddes, the guy was sitting in a run-down little donut shop on Bennington, the main thoroughfare in the north end and where Connell had just been the day before on his tour of north-end pool halls. Also a known hangout for heroin addicts.

Connell made the drive and, sure enough, he spotted Geddes in almost exactly the same spot he'd last seen him two years before. Parked at the same small round window-side table, dressed in the same greasy buckskin jacket, greasy blue jeans, stained black T-shirt, and snakeskin cowboy boots with silver-tipped toes. And he still had that reptilian quality about him. His skin shiny with dirt and grime. Scaly, like a lizard.

He was holding court with several other candidates for Citizen of the Year who wandered off quickly when Connell stepped in and pulled a chair around.

"Hey, my man," Geddes said, a bit surprised and a bit wary to see Connell again. He gripped Connell’s thumb in a musician's handshake. Even the handshake was smarmy. There was nothing musical about Paul.

They traded small talk for a few minutes, then Connell said, "Paul, I'm gonna need a little information."

"Yeah, well. We all got our needs, don't we?" Geddes said, and he cast a sideways glance at Connell, assessing how much urgency Connell might have on this particular occasion.

Geddes's mind didn't run to what the information might be. That was immaterial. He’d give up anything that didn’t get him killed. It ran only to how much that info might fetch.

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