BIKER

A series of novels starring Josh Pratt, reformed motorcycle hoodlum turned private investigator.

Josh phoned O'Malley and left a message. He hit the road. The rain had tapered off and he drove beneath a gray blanket of clouds, pulling into his driveway at five-thirty. Fig was all over him.

"Yeah, yeah, just let me get into the kitchen."

Fig capered about while Josh decanted a can of Castor and Pollus grain-free butcher and bushel organic chicken weed into a bowl. Fig savored the rich aroma for a nanosecond, dipped her snout and inhaled everything in five seconds.

"How did it taste?"

O'Malley phoned back. "What?"

"The Waukesha PD has Max Bushnell's phone. I'd like to look at it."

"Why?"

"Samantha Bushnell identified one of the men with Max the night he O'D'd as Darren Olsen, a childhood friend."

"So?"
"I'd just like to talk to him."

"Pratt, I think you're a good guy but this isn't your case. The Waukesha police have it."

"Sir, you know as well as I do that they're severely understaffed and this case is a low priority for them."

"I know a guy. I'll talk to him."

"Thank you."

The phone book was no longer a useful tool. The phone book was practically extinct. Josh went online and looked for a Harvey Dennison. Facebook had five Dennisons, but only one was in his early twenties, lived in Waukesha, and liked to mountain bike. Josh sent him a friend request. They had one friend in common, Sam Bushnell. He called Jaycee. Sam answered.

"Hello?"

"Sam, this is Josh Pratt. Is your mom there?"

"No, she's in with Max. He's conscious!"

"He's awake?"

"Yes! The doctors say he'll have to stay here for observation at least overnight, but he may be ready to come home in the morning."

"Sam, that's wonderful news. Maybe you can help me. Are you facebook friends with Harvey

Dennison?"

"Yes."

"I just sent him a friend request. Would you tell him why?"

"Why?"

"I'm trying to learn where your brother got the dope."

"But that's not even your case. I thought you were working on who killed Dad."

"I have a feeling they're connected."

"That's crazy. They have nothing to do with each other. Dad died ten years ago."

"What's the worst that could happen? Look me up. I have a pretty good record."

"Yeah, I'll do it. I don't know why I was being such a little shit. Is this your number?"

"That's it. Are you friends with Darren Olson?"

"No," she said emphatically.

"What's wrong with Darren?"

"He's a creep, okay? He asked me out. That's just creepy."

"Did Max know about it?"

"No way."

"You'll tell Harvey?"

"Yeah I'll tell him."

"Thank you."

He phoned Ray.

` "I would love to come over, but Ida is throwing a tantrum. I have to talk her down off the ledge or we have no show."

"Doesn't she have an understudy?"

"The understudy is a man."

"I see. All right. How about tomorrow? I could make a reservation at the Hoity Toity."

"I'm listening."

"That's it. We go to the Hoity Toity, we come back here and we screw."

"You talked me into it, you silver-tongued devil."

Harvey had confirmed Josh's request. Harvey was online.

Harvey, I'm a private investigator looking into Max' overdose. Can we talk?

Yeah, dude, I looked you up. You're awesome.

Can I call you right now through Facebook?

Sure.

Josh put on a headset he'd bought at Walmart for eight dollars and hit the phone icon. Harvey picked right up. Harvey had a pale round face covered with stubble, a Beatle cut, and pink lips. He squinted.

"Whoa dude."

"Hello, Harvey. Thank you for taking my call."

"How'd you find Max."

"I was stuntin' in the park. They got a skateboard punk and I walked off to smoke a joint. Max was in the bushes. I got down, felt for his breath, y'know, tried to bring him out of it. I called nine one one right away. I stayed with him until they came, then I went into Axe to Grind. I needed a drink."

"Do you know where he got the reefer?"

"No idea."

"Where do you get yours?"

"Does Chevy tell Toyota?"

Josh laughed. "Any ideas?"
"That park, Owen Park. It's always been a dealer's hangout. Reefer, blow, smack, whatever. There's a different crew on every corner. They had it pretty much cleaned up before the pandemic hit, and then the Rittenhouse thing, and then that crazy motherfucker in the SUV... A lot of cops have quit. They didn't want to get the jab, and they felt like they were in the crosshairs, y'know? I mean all this defund the police shit. I may smoke reefer, but I'm not stupid enough to think we can get along without cops."

"Here's my card. If you learn anything, or have any ideas, give me a call."

"Hey man. Do you carry a gun?"

"No. I'm a convicted felon. I'm not allowed to own guns."

"You're a what?"

"I was pardoned by the governor."

"What did you do?"

"I cut off a man's arm with a chainsaw."

"Holy shit."

"Then I found Jesus. Want to hear about him?"

"Ah, no thanks, man. I'll call you if I hear of anything."

"Thank you Harvey."