RSW04 - The Case of Mr. Wonderful by Stevens Jim

Author:Stevens, Jim [Stevens, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: amazon, cThriller
Amazon: B00TY21HFM
Publisher: Creative Inc. Publishing
Published: 2015-02-22T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

Another nightmare.

Kelly is pregnant; it looks like twins. She’s dressed in rags, on her knees beating wet clothes against a washboard with one hand while she texts on her cell phone with the other. She’s living in a house that looks like a shoe. Her four kids, three wearing diapers made of discarded gunnysacks, play in a mud puddle. All three dads, Joey Ramone and his two brothers, lounge around on dilapidated lawn furniture in front of rusted out pickup trucks. They strum their guitars, pass around a joint, and giggle in their communal drug-induced stupor. To help round out the scene, there’s a few mangy dogs wandering around, an eviction notice tacked on the front door, and hundreds of empty Fruit Roll-up boxes litter the yard.

I awaken in a cold sweat.

I’ll never get back to sleep. It’s a little past 5 a.m. I get up and notice that my cell phone on the table beside the bed is not blinking. It ran out of juice again. I take it into the kitchen, plug it into the charger, and get the coffee started. I walk back through my apartment, stop to see the dearth of clues on The Original Carlo, and return to the bedroom. The pain in my head, caused by not being able to escape the image of Kelly who lives in a shoe, overcomes the pain in my back as I stretch on the floor, like a yogi with muscular dystrophy, which helps a bit. I shower, getting the water as hot as freshly brewed tea and having it hit my back like a sci-fi laser beam destroying New York City. Physically, I feel better. Mentally, I’m as burnt as the toast I eat for breakfast.

I once again pick up the list Chester provided. I don’t know why I do this, because I already have it memorized. I retrieve my cell phone and see it has enough juice in it to listen to the one voicemail message I received. “Yaa, dis is Sven. You called ’bout Sheckle money. Yaa, but naa. Check bounce.”

I’ll return the call at a decent hour. I spend the remainder of my pre-morning staring at The Original Carlo. I am not having a good time.

I wait for the sun to rise before I leave the apartment, and I’m glad I do because the Toyota won’t start. I try the ignition about thirty times, but the only sound is a click. Why I repeat this process over and over either speaks volumes of my unflagging optimism or to my total idiocy of auto mechanics. I get out and open the hood. This is also stupid because I have no clue of what to look for. I close the hood. Thankfully, I parked with no one in front of me. I return to the driver’s side, reach in, and turn the ignition key back on. I release the parking brake, put the car in neutral, and push. When I get it going down the

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