Heat

Chapter 6: The Messenger

Chapter 6: The Messenger

Hurricane Road

Bungalow 16

7:21 P.M.

The stranger in Casey’s bungalow stood at six-three and looked like a character out of a circus. The man’s name ended up being Edgar Sign, and he had the longest arms and legs I had ever seen in my life. His handlebar mustache looked wiry and the color of rust, and his feet were covered in oversized clown shows. He wore Daisy Duke denim shorts and showed off hairy, stork-like legs. His eyes were circled in black paint, and his lips were a bright red. Silver daggers hung from each earlobe. A burgundy and velvet top hat sat on his head. Upon my arrival, he relaxed in a big chair shaped like a palm tree. One of his knees crossed over the other. He was strangely interesting.

Casey had offered him a beverage, but he had declined. He looked at Casey and then at me. He scratched his scruffy cheek with one of his dirty-looking hands.

“I understand you had a meeting this morning with Margo Pagino. Is this true?”

What business was of it of his to know of my meetings and with whom? I did partake in a whiskey sour, which Casey had prepared for me since he was a master at mixology. The sip went down smooth with a bit of sweet and sour.

“I don’t have to answer that question, Mr. Sign.”

“You should.” Edgar scowled and looked a little bit irritated with me. His eyebrows were crooked and bent.

“Why should I?”

“Gentlemen, stop,” Casey chimed in, neutralizing the moment. “Edgar, say what you need to say already. Stop dragging this out.”

Edgar nodded, locked his stare on me, and said, “I know for a fact that you had a meeting this morning with Bobby Pagino’s mother. I also know that if you are wise, you won’t be trying to find him. Bobby does not want to be found.”

“Who are you to Bobby?” I asked, intrigued with the strange man and all his bizarre gusto. What circus had he traveled with? And just how long had his freak show been going to be in town?

“None of your business,” he said, stood, and pointed at me. “You are a stupid man who doesn’t know what you’re getting into it.”

“Edgar,” Casey interjected. “Stop with the rudeness. This is Axle’s home. You shouldn’t disrespect him like this.”

My blood pressure rose. I wanted to punch at the fucker and send his ass packing. I kept my composure together, though, and asked, “Why should I not find Bobby Pagino, Mr. Sign?”

“You may not like what you find.”

“What does that mean?”

He rolled his fingers together, nodded, and shared a wide grin with me that broadcasted in flaming fire that he could have been psychotic. “You’ll find out soon. Yes, you will.” After his comments, as if he were on fire, he ran for the door, opened it, and bolted away into the evening.

Casey and I sat across from each other, shrugged, and showcased semi-opened mouths, awestruck. We stared at each other with clueless looks smeared over our faces.

“What the f**k was that about?”

I wanted to laugh, but couldn’t. “I have no idea. I’m totally confused.”

“As well as I am. Should we be concerned?”

“He was probably whacked out on meth or something. He’s not the first crazy I’ve had to deal with in my career. A dozen or more cases come to mind on the subject of wackos. Trust me, I’m not going to lose sleep over him.”

Casey moved up to me, kissed me, started to undress me, and proceeded with some hardcore s*x with my body, until both of us became spent and gluey.