in places. She sported a large mole on the left cheek, which was sprouting black facial hairs. Her finger nails looked long and deadly. Leaning against the wood doorway and placing an arm on the thin waist, this weeping willow of sorts, eyed Marty through slit like eyes. The hair was long and dyed jet black. A silver coloured head band adorned the greasy hair.
Well, thought Marty, what have we here? Certainly no advertisement for L’OREAL, ‘you’re worth it’!
She looked like a vulgar, voluptuous vampire gone terribly wrong. Her eyes were cold and indifferent and her body language suggested something else.
Marty took the plunge, introducing himself and said he was looking for Anna Serenova.
“What for!” came the brittle reply. The voice was expressionless, yet deep. Marty noticed that some teeth were missing.
Marty explained briefly about the Parsons case and the information he had regarding the couple who Billy was staying with at that time.
“Hmmph. When was this, 1965? How would I know, can’t be expected to remember that far back? I was probably at university, protesting about the Vietnam War. Pity the Viet Congs didn’t win. At least North Korea has something to offer,” sniffed this delightful female. “What’s this got to do with me anyway?” said the dancing dolly with a sneer in her smoky voice. She folded her arms and stood in a menacing stance in the doorway giving Marty a fierce once over. Smoke oozed from the mouth like foul smelling steam.
Not getting anywhere, thought Marty. Instantly, Marty picked up on the smell he could not discern earlier. Of course, it fits in. Let’s get this hussy a bit rattled. Be straight to the point, man.
Marty responded with a fierce tirade and said, “I assume you are Olga Serenova’s daughter, Anna? And the date was July 21, 1965?” Marty moved forward like a gridiron player and pushed past the lacklustre creep with ease.
Entering the den of Aladdin’s cave, Marty was confronted by a thin haze of smoke. Striding further into the filthy house, Marty tried to make out where the smoke was coming from. A room just down the hallway had a closed door – that was it.
Madam Butterfly scuttled behind Marty. “You can’t go in there, someone is sleeping. Get out you pig!”
Marty was too quick for the “purple panther” and opened the door of the forbidden room. In the corner of the room, near a grimy window, was a day bed, veiled with a thick curtain. A table had the smoking apparatus sitting on it. Over hurried Marty, and flung back the curtain to reveal a hapless figure. A woman dressed in some flimsy silk gown clutched a hookah. The cheeks were sunken and the face gaunt. There was no recognition in the eyes of the woman. She was in an opium stance for sure – just a blank stare in a void. Wretched creature, thought Marty. A plant of marijuana stood on a plant stand 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
