Due to a few comments, I've decided to post a warning on the Blog the same as I do for the Newsletter and Facebook. Readers should be over 18. X-Rated - not for kidlets. Content at times contains sex, violence and strong language.
Hearing what sounded like muffled footsteps slowly edging their way towards the living room, I placed my finger on my lips and motioned to Talulu to be quiet and switch off the lamp beside her chair. Then, as quielty and quickly as I was able, I raced across the room towards the door. Just as I reached the wall, the door suddenly burst open and two burly men rushed into the room. Now you gotta love self-survival – it even beats out sex when it comes to having any sense. It was most likely just a reflex but I couldn’t help myself, I stuck out my foot and they both went ass over tea kettle sprawling onto the floor. Before the biggest guy could recover, I’d grabbed hold of a smallish brass sculpture of a naked woman riding a large duck or a duck riding a woman and bashed him soundly over the head. However, before I could do any more damage, the smaller man grabbed my foot and pulled me to the floor on top of his buddy and then punched me hard on the left side of my head; the blow felt like it damned near crushed my cheek bone. While I was seeing bright stars, and shooting comets whirling around inside my head and before he could throw another punch, I heard what sounded like a crunch. Apparently Talulu had launched a lamp at the thug and it had struck him in the head, the blow momentarily dazing him. He wasn't permanently disabled but at least Talulu had given me enough time to recover and as I jerked my foot loose, I heard a loud explosion and saw a flash of light. Apparently, the guy I’d cold-cocked had come-to and had fired a shot at Talulu. Although my vision was still a little blurry from the fist to the head, I did manage to see Talulu’s shadow (only she could cast such a sexy shadow on a wall) dash towards the patio. Realizing I still had the sculpture in my hand I thought, this is no time for Lenny to be a nice guy and hammered the thug’s head with all my might; I not only heard his head crack wide open but felt the sculpture go through his skull and into his mushy brain. Howevcr, before I could do anything else, the dead thug’s partner drove his fist into my guts, knocking me against the wall and unconscious.
I couldn’t have been out for long because I was still gasping for air as I watched my assailant step out into the patio searching for Talulu. Although I wasn’t thinking too clearly (a few well directed punches can do that) like I said, self-survival is a wonderful commodity because even though I’d just had my brain addled big time, I still had enough sense to grab the dead thug’s revolver from his hand. Weaving somewhat like a drunk, trying not to bump into anything, I made my way towards the patio. I could hear voices outside but wasn’t quite sure if it was Talulu’s or the thug’s because the only word I heard clearly was, “Honey.” The patio was slightly lit from the city lights and I could see a gun pointed at her head as I crept in my stocking feed towards the man; his back turned partially towards me. I don’t know if she inadvertently gave me away, or if I made a sound because he suddenly whirled and fired his gun in my direction. I actually felt the bullet whiz past my face; it was that close. You'd have thought that I would have fired back instinctively but I knew Talulu was standing there against the railing on the edge of the patio and I didn’t want to shoot her by mistake. And then again, the chance of me hitting her or him was almost negligible since I’d never fired a pistol before.
I’d never played football before either but as I ran towards the hood, ducking and weaving like a mad man, I felt like a quarterback. He fired two more shots at me; that’s three, I thought. They both missed, although I did feel one bullet tug at my jacket just under the arm pit on my right side. Luckily for me, when he fired the fourth shot, I stumbled on something, stubbing my big toe real hard. Crying out in pain, as I fell forward, I caught a glimpse of a smile on his face; I guess he’d figured he’d plugged me. But you should have seen the surprise on his face, when I somehow miraculously recovered and came up on my feet, pointed the gun directly into his left eyeball and pulled the trigger (at that range; how could I miss.)
Talulu and I must have been in shock because we just stood there looking at the dead man crumpled at our feet, his brains spread out like a red fan on the clear Lexan panel behind him. Wailing sirens could be heard as they wove down the streets towards Talulu’s building, which triggered my survival instincts once again. I don’t know why, maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly but as I dropped the gun on the dead man, all I could think about was getting the hell out of that penthouse suite. I grabbed Talulu’s hand and said, “Let’s go.” We were almost at the foyer when I said, “Wait here a moment.” I’d almost forgotten the tape recorder.
Fortunately, the elevator was still waiting just outside the door. Since the lobby was most likely full of cops, I asked Talulu if there was a stairway. When she said yes, I stopped the elevator on the 28th floor and we headed for the exit sign at the end of the hall. By the time we reached the lobby, my legs felt like 2 limp noodles; at age 42, I just wasn't as spry as I used to be. Talulu was about to open the door when I said, “Wait a sec.” Reaching inside my jacket pocket, I pulled out a small Velcro label, which stated in big bold red capital letters, PRESS and DAILY TRIBUNAL and stuck it to my chest. .
Talulu said, “Honey, I didn’t know you were a reporter.”
“I’m not but this little tag comes in handy now and then. Let’s hope it works now. As I rubbed a few specks of blood off her face and checked out her clothes I said, “You look good.” How about me; any blood?”
“No, just slightly mussed up a bit but there’s a big red mark on the side of your face. I wouldn't be surprised if you get a whopper of a black eye honey. Other than that, (she smiled) you look good too.”
With a wry grin I said, “Thanks. Just follow my lead once we go through this door.”
The lobby was just as I suspected; it was teeming with cops. As soon as we opened the door, a policeman who was standing nearby came towards us. Before he could say a word I said, “I’m Rex Martin and this is my assistant Emily Klassen; we’re from the Daily Tribunal, just managed to get in through the back entrance (hoping the cop hadn’t checked that the stairs behind us only led up to the floors above). Our newspaper van should be arriving at any moment, so we’re going outside to wait for it. Although Talulu was modestly dressed for her, she still exposed an overly abundance of cleavage; the cop’s eyes almost riveted to her bosom, I continued, “Any chance you could come wait by the door because we might have some difficulty getting back inside?
“Sure,” he stammered. “Follow me.”
A large crowd of jostling people had gathered outside the building and two police officers were trying to keep them from entering. As Talulu and I merged into the crowd, I yelled back to the cop, “I see the van just down the street!” Taking Talulu’s hand in mine, weaving our way through the spectators I yelled back over my shoulder, “We’re going to help the photographer with his gear; we’ll be right back! Don’t go away.”
Before the cop could open his mouth to reply, we were lost amongst the horde of people gathered around the building’s entrance. Ripping the label off my jacket, I quickly stuffed it back inside my breast pocket and said, “Let’s get my car and hit an ATM; grab a bunch of cash; I don’t know how long it’ll be before the cops clue in that it’s your workplace and start looking for you and most likely tie me into the picture as well – and then again – I doubt that the cop we left standing at the door, with his mouth wide open, hardly noticed me. Do you have that affect on all men? Don’t bother answering; of course you do.”
When we arrived at the car Talulu said, “We’d better go see Cool Hands before we do anything else. I know he has a lot of connections and might be able to help us out.”
I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not but at the moment, I didn’t have any better solutions. We might be able to spend the rest of the night at my place but after that, I hadn’t given our situation any further thought so I agreed. To be continued...
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