The Law

By George W. Parker

Marvin Davis is hired as 'muscle' in a blackmail payoff. The following day his client and the client's brother are murdered. Before Marv can do anything about the murders his girlfriend, Shelia Goodwin, is kidnapped by a Mexican cartel boss and Marv is launched into full bore vigilante mode.

Tearing through a long, hot Dallas night Marv takes the law into his own hands to free Shelia and to solve all of the Dallas Police's headaches.

• Language: English
• Publisher: George W. Parker
• Release date: Jul 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370677214

George W. Parker

George W. Parker has published an intertextual cycle of American genre novels: Death; Juxtaposed, The Letters, The Krew, Conversations at Night, and Vanishing Trick. Additionally he has authored The Boy in the Box and The Law the second and third novels in the Marvin Davis PI series along with Choice Cut, a zombie/noir novel. He lives in Austin and is currently working on Chop Shop, a zombie/noir follow up novel to Choice Cut. You can purchase paperback editions at Amazon.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Do you carry a gun?

I looked a little closer at the young man sitting across the desk from me. We were in my office, the sun room of my house in University Park. It was May and only mid-morning, but it was hot outside. The window ac unit made annoying noise behind me, but it kept the room cool. The young guy didn't need any ac, he was perpetually cool. His fancy phone said so. If my phone was smart, his was genius. It hadn’t left his hands.

His business card had given his name as Michael Grey, his business as, Talent Agent. He was Caucasian, slender with dark hair, dark eyes. He looked twenty-six but talked a little older, a more suave thirty-two year old. The white, linen suit he wore did not have a wrinkle in it. That's an accomplishment in Dallas. It's an accomplishment anywhere. His powder blue shirt and red bow tie was a bit too much color. His Tesla out in my gravel driveway was a bit too much car. A nice, cheery black. I would have figured the color was too hot for Texas.

I ignored his question about my carrying and asked one of my own. How did you get my number?

He looked at me. His eyes were actually a dark brown. Google, he answered. I liked your site: clean and simple. You're licensed. It sounded good. I called you. Was that a mistake?

No, no. I was just wondering. I've searched for myself online and I never show near the top. I'm lucky if I land on the first page. I've never cared to spend the money to land higher. I'm glad you liked the site.

Then I answered his question. I've got a Texas concealed handgun license. I've got some handguns. Why? Am I going to need one?

Grey smiled thinly, You are the professional. That'll be up to you. He looked down at his phone.

He looked back up. Sorry, Twitter. I need to respond to this asshole. He's trashing one of my clients.

I watched his crazy flipper fingers. He was fast. Least he was fast to me. My fingers don't move like that. They're too thick or something, maybe they’re just old.

When he game back up for air I said, Carrying my gun costs more.

How much more?

My usual rate is five hundred a day plus expenses, I explained. Carrying a rod is two thousand a day.

Grey didn't bat an eye at me. He just asked, What about the expenses?

I should have asked for more money.

You pay for travel, meals and the like, I answered. The bullets are already paid for.

That didn't even get a grin from him. He was back at it with the phone. It looked like the tweets were going too fast and too furious.

I sat quietly watching the mortal combat of social media play itself out. And some people think chess and advertising are wastes of time.

Finally, Grey looked up smiling. Someone had taken a beat down. You're hired.

I smiled back. That's great Mr. Grey. The customer is always Mister to me no matter how big an ass he is. What's the job?

Grey let go of the phone with his right hand and cradled it gently in his left. He sat up a little straighter and now looked twenty-four.

I have a very talented client named Ana Rodriguez who made some bad choices when she was a little younger and a little poorer.

Ana Rodriguez, Miss. Texas? I asked.

I wish, Grey gave me the thin grin again. My Ana is from Grand Prairie. A singer, like that meant anything. She made one of those fake porn agent casting films a couple of years ago. They paid her a couple hundred dollars and kept all the rights. I'm trying to get the rights back.

A couple of 'couples.' Are they black mailing her or you? I asked.

Grey tilted his head a little to the left and looked down at the floor as he answered, Me. She is still poor.

How much are they asking?

Ten thousand in hundreds, he answered.

You can afford it or you wouldn't be here.

Grey patted his heart and smiled.

When did they contact you?

Sunday, Grey answered, then he corrected himself. Actually they contacted Ana. A man stopped her as she was leaving a Seven/Eleven. He handed her a thumb drive, told her what was on it, and told her what he wanted. Then he left. She told me Sunday night so I called you yesterday.

I didn’t ask about the Sunday night visit. Instead I asked, How did he leave?

Grey looked up at me, then cocked his head down in the other direction. She said he got into in a white Escalade and drove off.

He was alone, or was there someone else in the truck?

Grey kind of squinted at me, Escalades aren't trucks.

They're made by the truck division, I answered. "Was he alone or not?

There was someone with him.

Did she know the guy? Get a plate number?

No, Nada, Grey answered adding a shake of his head. Three no's for two questions.

Is she scamming you?

Grey looked up and grinned. I like how you think. That's what I asked her. Never trust anyone. That's what I say.

I didn't argue his point. What did she answer?

Of course she said 'no,' Grey answered. He reached into the right outside pocket of his coat and pulled out a thumb drive. He tossed it onto the desk. This is the thumb drive they gave her. There's a PDF with instructions on it and part of the video.

Never trust anyone.

I picked up the drive and asked, "Does it have Stuxnet on it?

Grey looked a little confused. Excuse me? he asked.

Did you scan it for viruses? I asked.

The smile came back into place. I was making his day. Yes, I did. It's clean.

Mind if I scan it again?

No, Sir. Never trust anyone. Grey took up his phone in both hands again. The serious part of the business was over for him. I had taken the job.

I slipped the drive into my PC and waited for it to mount. When it showed up I scanned it with a couple of different malware programs and checked its properties with a drive manager for what that was worth. Never trust anyone or any one thing. The best I could tell the drive was clean. I opened it up. There was a PDF named 'Money' and a movie clip entitled 'cum shot' on it.

I opened the PDF and checked the metadata just in case the blackmailers were stupid. They weren't. It only contained the creation date, which jived with Grey's time line. Other than that, if there was anything leading back to the blackmailers on the file it needed a real computer person to find it.

In 16 point Times Roman, all caps, the PDF read,

"TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS

ONE HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS.

05/18

10:20AM

33°12'42.3N 96°48'48.8W

NO COPS

NO CAMERAS

NO DRONES"

I looked up at Grey. His hands were quiet. He was looking at me.

I hate being shouted at, even if it's just a PDF, I said.

He smiled. Most people go for the video, he said with a wink. He lowered his eyes to the phone and went back to his whatever it was he was doing.

I wondered who else had looked at the thumb drive?

I double clicked on the video. It was what it said it was. Grey's client was a thin, Hispanic looking, young woman obviously not excited by the scene she was in. I closed the video with a click of the mouse.

Grey was looking at me again grinning. What do you think?

I think the eighteenth is tomorrow, I answered. Where's that location?

I don't know, Grey shrugged. You're the detective.

That settled my thoughts about Mr. Grey if they had needed settling.

Right. And I'll have to charge you for a half day today, non-packing rate.

Grey shrugged his shoulders.

I copied the location from the PDF and pasted it into a browser search. The map that popped up placed the location on County Road 26 in Frisco, TX, one of those rapidly growing towns north of Dallas proper. The satellite view showed a graveled road intersecting a railroad at the spot and lots of open fields. No cameras and easy to see if anything or anyone was around. When I keyed in for directions it returned a drive time of thirty minutes, straight up the toll road.

Grey was relaxed in the customer chair. Well?

A deep subject, I answered.

It wasn't clever, or funny, but it was a line. Grey answered with a, What?

Nothing, I answered. Be here at nine-thirty tomorrow morning with the money and we'll drive up there. Easy, peasy.

Great, Grey smiled like the Cheshire.

He stood up.

I stood up and stretched out my right hand.

Grey looked at my hand for a moment then took the phone into his left hand. He stuck out his right and shook hands with me. He had a hand shake like an agent.

Keep the thumb drive, he stated. Then he added, See you at nine-thirty, and was out the door quicker than I could move around the desk to get the door for him.

Manners are lost on today's generation. Everything is lost on today's generation. And every older generation since the first one has believed that.

If an electric car can roar away from anyplace Grey’s Tesla did from my house. He threw gavel everywhere. I would have to apologize to my yard guy.

Whatever. I went back to my PC and did a search for 'Ana Rodriguez Grand Prairie.' Nothing showed up that read or fit what Grey had said. I searched 'Ana Rodriguez porn.' Nothing. 'Ana Rodriguez sex.' Nothing.

I searched around on Grey. He had a slick website and was on every social media platform I could think of. Looked like he was who he said he was. There was no mention of Ana Rodriguez. She was still a hidden asset.

I hate book keeping. I decided to set up Grey's account later. It was such a stimulating morning I headed to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

Chapter 2

The phone was ringing, vibrating and chiming like Big Ben. I opened my eyes slowly and looked around. The direction of the light coming into the living room and its color indicated early evening. I hate late afternoons. They are a good time for a nap. I rolled onto my back and checked my watch. It read 6:15. I reached over to the coffee table and picked up the phone. The caller ID read Shelia.

Shelia Goodwin is a beautiful, young woman who is foolish enough to believe I am a smart, funny, handsome man. She is young enough to be my daughter. We were going steady. You have to be young to go steady. If you're not young, you're just sleeping together. Shelia works for a crooked lawyer. He knows I keep an eye on him. Usually both eyes. I don't hold that against her. He pays her well.

It is always about the money. A third world girls' education is about Dad's return on his investment. Profiling is about writing tickets to collect fines to pad out budgets. And politics make crooked lawyers look like, crooked lawyers. It is about the money. I remembered I needed to set up Grey's account. I didn’t have much money so Shelia’s interest in me had to be pity.

I swung my legs off the couch and sat up. Then I answered the phone, This is Henshaw.

Hi, Marv, Shelia replied. No one knows who Henshaw is.

That's why I like the name.

And you liking the name is the only reason why I googled it, once, Shelia laughed.

See, it's making a comeback, I responded.

I don't think Bilko is making a comeback, she stated with some authority.

Prove it, I ordered.

I woke you up, didn't I?

Maybe... I answered.

Are we still having dinner? she queried.

I always have dinner. Don't you?

Listen, I'll hang up and you can go back to sleep, Shelia offered.

Sorry, I apologized. Then I started over, Hi, Sweetie. Are you hungry? You want to get some dinner?

Now you are ingratiating.

I'm always something, I answered.

That's a fact, Sheila responded.

"Italian sound good? I asked.

Marv, Shelia said quietly, "this is a bad idea. I'm just going home. I'll