The Red 65. Grant Peake

by the window. Another table had a selection of “sweets”, namely what looked like to be amphetamines.

      The other wonder woman, he assumed to be Anna, began to claw at Marty and scream. “Leave us alone, you pig. You cops are all the same, bastards!” She spat in Marty’s face and tried to slap him.

      Marty grabbed her bony wrist firmly and said in a calm, yet no nonsense voice,“Get me all the information you have on Billy Parsons, or I’ll have the pair of you locked up for possessing an illegal substance. I’m not joking sister, get it now. Don’t tell me you don’t know what I am talking about because I have first hand information about this joint! Now hop to it, Fairy Floss.” Marty shouted at the stinking woman. He was playing a game here but the look of shock in Anna’s fierce eyes were enough to know that he had struck a chord.

      Marty’s quick thinking worked. The partisan from hell raced out of the room. Marty followed, leaving the lifeless figure to its self-induced dream.

      Back down the hallway to some clear light and fresh air went Marty, if that was at all possible in this mausoleum. Anna had faded into the depths of this shady hovel. Without warning, a huge hulk appeared from out of the gloom and stood in Marty’s way. Well, finally, thought Marty, the butler has arrived!

      He must have been seven foot tall, massive biceps and thick shoulders plus a neck like an ox. Bare-chested, there was enough hair to weave a carpet and have some left over. His hair was long and hung down like ringlets over the hairy shoulders. Gold rings had been inserted into the nipples and an enormous chunky gold chain around the neck, rattled when he moved. Clad in torn leather trousers, steel capped patent leather black biker boots and a leather skull cap. Arm bands with pointed studs and a very large right eyebrow ring, completed the armoury. Enormous black studs were set in the ear lobes. The face was just like cement, with a shiny film covering the features that had been carved out with a chisel. The left eye was covered with a patch. A long scar was etched into the left cheek bone area, and a handlebar moustache, resembling cat’s whiskers, adorned the upper lip. Cold venomous grey eyes surveyed Marty. An abundance of colourful tattoos covered the beefy arms. He wreaked of body odour and some other delightful smells. Presumably this guy liked that new men’s eau de cologne by Chanel, called “Stink”. Marty dubbed him “Pirate Pussy”.

      Brandishing a baseball bat in the right black gloved hand, Marty reckoned that Pirate Pussy was ready to play ball, but with Marty’s head. There came a distinct grunting sound from this well attired baseball player. A twisted smile formed on the thick lips. The head drooped to one side, taking in the defenseless Marty. A sinister laugh came from the depths of this warlord. The gold chain clinked heavily as its owner lumbered along the passage. Swiftly the bat was being swung at Marty’s head but Marty saw it in time and ducked. Pirate Pussy was not impressed! Marty endeavoured to position himself against the wall whilst Pirate Pussy ambled forward to strike again. He made a loud “Aagh” sound as the baseball bat was being flung around in the stale smog like passage. Out of the corner of Marty’s eye, he could see Princess Loveliness. She was edging on Pirate Pussy saying, “Get the bastard, break his friggen neck, smash his head to bits!”

      Lovely talk from such a demure lady, mused Marty. Such a delight to bring home for the folks to meet!

      Both men eyed each other off, Marty knew Pirate Pussy had the upper hand. Silence now filled the moment. You could cut the air with a knife. There was a faint scuttling noise and Marty saw a large cockroach squeezing itself between the wood floorboards, just in case it was crushed to death by the boots of Pirate Pussy. Without warning, Marty’s mobile began to ring, but Marty couldn’t answer the call. He had more important things to tend to right now! The mobile rang out. Immediately, the mobile sounded again, and once more Marty had to let it ring out.

      What seemed to be minutes, but in reality was only seconds, ticked by. Marty continued to move along the wall but facing the incredible hulk before him, not game to take his eye off the playful weapon. Pirate Pussy raised the baseball bat to make a home delivery, when there was a deafening sound of voices and wood being broken, pandemonium broke the silence. Down the hallway charged four heavily reinforced figures, sporting bullet proof vests, protective head gear, assault rifles and batons. Hell, thought Marty, cops!

      Cherry Blossom Apple Pie tried to make a run for it and fled further into the house with two boys in blue after her. Pirate Pussy made a swing at the police but a baton hit to the giant’s knee, brought him down like a paper doll.

      Marty heard the familiar voice of La Paz calling out, “You okay, Boss?”

      “Yeah, no worries. Just a little ball game with our friend here, that’s all. We had an audience, but she got a bit scarred and ran off.” Marty hurriedly replied, getting his breath back.

      Pirate Pussy was yelling “Latin” abuse at the top of his voice as he was taken out to the paddy wagon.

      Before long, Anna, was rounded up, trying to grab a shot gun from a chest of drawers. Over powered, she put up a struggle and managed to scratch a deep gash in the face of one of the tactical response boys. The boys literally dragged her out by the hair, shouting and screaming like a real storm trooper.

      “Dear thing, really,” Marty recalled his mother using this expression when someone was down and out, or the subject of gossip. This one was far from that, thought Marty.

      Seething with fury at being arrested, Anna was bundled into the black maria also. The other sleeping beauty, yet to be identified, was brought out and taken into custody.

      “A good haul!” said the smiling Marty. Marty looked at La Paz and said with a question mark in his voice, “What made you guys burst in here? Did you have a tip off?”

      La Paz answered, “When you told me you were going to number 1811 North Beaumont, I just thought I would do a background check on the joint. Came up as a red circle boss. That guy who was playing ball with you, is known as Thor. Calls himself “Thor the Viking” and has a list as long as your arm. His real name is John Ingmar Armitage. From Amish stock in Pennsylvania. Been inside before, GBH, drug dealing, robbery with violence, and get this, child pornography! There is a website called “1811” and it is a child pornography site. Heaps of photos of underage kids in compromising postures, some have just been taken at random. I got the boys together in case you ran into trouble with Thor. That was me phoning your mobile. When you didn’t pick up after the second time, I gave the authority to break in. Boss, I wanna see if there is a computer or lap top somewhere. We might get something from it. I’ll have a hunt around for any paperwork, photos that may link us to Billy Parsons.”

      Marty nodded, collecting himself from the baseball practice.

      “So my playful boxing pal has something to write home about. The folks at home would love to hear about their son’s exploits.” giggled Marty.

      La Paz went on,“This Anna Serenova, has been a noted political activist for many years. Been behind bars on a number of occasions. Organiser of protest marches and rallies, and has a connection to Ku Klux Klan members too. A known police hater, she has assaulted officers before. She was also a founding member of the Women in Purple brigade. You have heard of them, no doubt. A real nasty dame if ever there was one boss.”

      “Yes, the Women in Purple Brigade do ring a few alarm bells. They are usually behind any political unrest and spurn the law to a tee! Well, well. We may have hit the jackpot here La Paz. Thanks for dropping by, you saved my head from being belted off! Tell you what, you clean up here, get what you can, and I will head up to this Peggy Cavallaro’s place at 1817. See what she has to say. I will catch up with you back at the office. Oh, don’t go getting high on that hookah La Paz, okay. We have work to do!” said Marty with a laugh.

      “Oh jeez boss, I was kinda looking forward to a having a puff, now you spoilt all the fun!” was the joking reaction from La Paz.

      CHAPTER five

      Leaving La Paz and the boys to go through the putrid house, Marty drove the couple of doors up to 1817 North Beaumont.

      Quite a difference awaited Marty Hislop, as