The Three Jack Voodoo: A Spider & Fortune Adventure

By Timm Gillick

Rafferty Spidano (aka "The Spider") and his partner Maddox Fortune, are a pair of Gulf War vet, sword-wielding private investigators in Peoria, IL who get pulled into a whirlwind of diamond smuggling and political corruption when a US Senator's driver crashes his car into their office.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Timm Gillick
• Release date: Feb 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311532039

Timm Gillick

Writing since a young age, Timm has always been creative, whether writing and directing short films, to writing comics, short stories and novellas, or doing cosplay photography.

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The Three Jack Voodoo

A Spider & Fortune Adventure

By Timm Gillick

The Three Jack Voodoo: A Spider & Fortune Adventure

by Timm Gillick

Copyright 2015 Timm Gillick

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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CHAPTER I

I ducked the haymaker and threw a left jab followed by a quick right cross, connecting with the thug's nose. A crunch told me I had broken it. The spray of blood confirmed it. The sight of the blood stopped him cold.

Owww! You broge my fuggin' node! His hands covered his nose in an attempt to stop the cascade running down his chin.

I told you before, Black, I said. I massaged the knuckles on my right hand. As long as you stay out of my way, we won't have to tangle like this.

Fug you, Fortune, David Black said, but there was no heat to it. This was the third time he'd tried this and the third time he'd lost.

Black, besides not being as good a fighter as I am, was also a private investigator. The main difference between he and I was ethics. You see, he didn't have any. This was not only the third time he had tried fighting me and lost, but it was also the third time he had tried stealing what I had been hired to find, which is how the fights started.

I don't even know why you're here. Do you even have a client?

Fug you, Fortune. Black was nothing if not consistent. I dode haff to tell you shid.

True. But I do have a client, and she paid me a pretty penny to get this back to her. I picked up a parcel wrapped in plain brown paper and tucked it under my arm.

What he had been trying to do, and had tried doing in the past, was follow my partner and I around in the hopes that he could swipe whatever it was we had been hired to locate, then go back to our client and try and sell it to them for half of what we were being paid.

He had succeeded once. It was the only time.

So until next time, have a nice life. I walked away.

Voices carried through the door as I walked up the driveway. One was female, I assumed our client. The other had the deep resonance of Rafferty Spidano, aka the Spider. My partner. It said so right on the sign. Spider and Fortune. Troubleshooters, Finders of Things Lost, Locaters of Missing Persons.

I'm still not sure where his nickname, the Spider, came from because at 6'4" and 325 pounds, there is nothing spidery about Rafferty Spidano.

Our office was in my garage at the house the ex-wife left me when she ran off with my brother. She decided it was fair that she got my brother and I got the house. I agreed. I never liked my brother growing up and he got what he deserved.

I had closed off the main garage door, put in a raised floor, carpeted it, insulated it, painted it and made it a nice, spacious office. On the outside, it still looked like a garage, kind of, but most of our clients didn't care.

I opened the door to find The Spider sitting on our client couch with our client. They were discussing the feasibility of carrying a sword around today, for defense purposes.

What do you think, Mad? Spider asked when he saw me. Do you think carrying a sword for dueling purposes, defending your honor as well as your life, should be more of a consideration than a pistol?

I stared at him for a full three seconds, then I ignored him and presented the package to our client. She stood, tears in her eyes, not believing that I held it in my hands. She took the package and hugged it tight, her eyes closed. After a couple seconds where she caught her breath, she opened the package to find an old doll. It's her. It is her! Thank you so much, Mr. Fortune.

Please, call me Mad. Or Maddox.

She dropped the paper from her hand, held the doll in her left and threw her arms around me in a hug, tears of happiness streaming down her face. Thank you again.

She left, still crying a little. I watched the door for a full three seconds after she left. I took a deep breath, then released it in a sigh. I turned my head to look at the Spider over my shoulder. Swords? Again?

Hey, she brought it up when she saw the katana over my desk.

Right. I took our former client's place on the couch opposite Spider and massaged my knuckles again. I think I hit Black wrong on that last punch.

What happened? Rafferty said, looking at my massaging technique.

Black. He gave a knowing nod. He tried snagging it again. I had to hit him a few times.

He usually deserves it.

Broke his nose. I grinned. Rafferty grinned in response.

He always deserves that. I think his nose has been broken more times than my sister has had heterosexual dates. And that includes high school.

How is Kate, by the way? Rafferty's sister Kate was the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen, lesbian or not. Short blonde spiky hair, big brown eyes, full lips, full figured, no ribs showing on her. And tough. She's not bull-dyke tough, but strong-willed-and-can-stand-on-her-own tough.

Still butch, but she asks about you, too. She says to tell you that she still needs that bottle of tequila before she'd even try.

Damn.

Our client paid us in full, so we can go eat.

Only if Kate comes along.

Rafferty sighed. Fine. He picked up his cell phone and called her. I smiled.

CHAPTER II

The next day, Spider and I sat in our office discussing his sword fighting technique. Actually, he was discussing it, I was listening patiently, though my patience was wearing thin.

Look, I said, having enough. I don't burden you with my fighting style...

That mish-mash of shit you learned growing up that they now call Mixed Martial Arts?

I looked at him. Yeah. That. I paused. So I don't know why you need to inform me on the different styles of fighting with a katana as opposed to a longsword from Medieval Europe and the pros and cons of each one. In great, boring detail, I might add.

Rafferty's witty remark was stopped before it started when the wall that used to be the garage door caved in as a car hit it from outside.

What the fuck?! Spider said, jumping out of the way of a couple wall studs falling in.

We ran outside to find a 2005 Buick Skylark crashed into the wall, the driver slumped over the steering wheel. I reached in the open window and pulled him upright, knowing I shouldn't in case he had a neck or back injury, but this guy just crashed into my office. That was attached to my home. I didn't really care if I hurt him more or not.

His face has more cuts and lesions than what he should have with an activated airbag. Some of the cuts looked more like he had been beaten. That took me aback so I felt pity for this guy rather than anger.

I looked at Spider, but he was already on the phone with 911. He saw something in my look and told the dispatcher, One second.

This guy's been beaten, Spider. Not just with fists either.

Spider's eyes hardened. He paused a second, then told the dispatcher that the victim had been beaten as well. I looked back at the man behind the wheel and noticed something sticking up between the seats. I wouldn't have noticed it except there was nothing else in the car. No normal, human detritus found in most cars: empty drink cups, wrappers, pieces of paper, straw wrappers, loose change.

I walked around to the passenger side of the car, opened the door and leaned in to see a playing card tucked down in the seat next to the driver. Three cards, in fact: a Jack of Diamonds, a Queen of Diamonds and a Jack of Clubs. I left them where they were and leaned out of the car.

I heard sirens in the distance and waited with Rafferty, keeping an eye on the driver to make sure he was still breathing. Then I looked at my house. I swore. I hope this asshole was insured.

Spider and I found the doctor we were looking for. He looked down at a chart as he stood in the doorway, looked up, saw us and approached us. You the guys whose house he crashed into?

Yeah, our office, no less.

Well, he was beaten pretty badly before getting in his car. I'm surprised he managed to drive, even for a few blocks.

A few blocks? Spider asked.

His address is less than a mile from your office, the doctor explained. I have a feeling he may have been coming to see you professionally.

Spider and I looked at each other. Strange way to get a client, but since we just finished with the doll the night before, we needed some more income.

How's he doing? I asked.

Sixteen stitches total in four locations, two broken ribs, concussion, fractured cheek bone, missing two teeth, broken left radial, cracked kneecap.

And a partridge in a pear tree, Spider finished.

Someone knew what they were doing. The phrase 'beaten to within an inch of your life' definitely applies here. All of it done with a blunt instrument like a baseball bat or a crowbar.

Spider and I looked at each other again. Curiouser and curiouser.

Thanks, doc, I said. Can we go see him?

He's awake and he did drive to your office before passing out. I'm sure with his injuries and destination in mind that he'd like to speak with you. He looked at his watch. His sedatives will be kicking in before too long, maybe fifteen minutes, so you better talk now or wait until this evening.

Thanks again, Spider said. The doctor walked off and we entered our new client's room.

He was groggy, his head lolling a little here and there, but looking a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw him behind the wheel of that car.

Who... He swallowed, tried again. Who are you?

Maddox Fortune, this is my partner Rafferty Spidano. You were coming to see us?

Yes... He took a deep breath, closed his eyes. I thought he was falling asleep for a second. He opened his eyes again, looked at Spider and said, I know your sister.... She told me to find you... In case anything happened.

I see, Spider said. His eyes softened and he sat in the bedside chair. Kate's a good judge of character. Tell me what happened.

My name's Tom Laurel.... I'm a limo driver... I think my boss may be involved in something illegal.

And you want us to find out if he is? Spider was always better with the client than I was. Whereas I tended to be too blunt, Spider had the gift of gab.

Deep breath. Yes... I don't want to get caught up in any... shitstorm that may come down.. because of his greed.

Spider looked at me when he asked Tom, Tom. Who's your boss?

Tom opened his eyes again, looked intently at Spider and said, Senator John Grebner. He then closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Shit.

Senator John Grebner was one of those politicians. The kind that nobody likes, no one admits to voting for, yet seems to stay in office every election. Rumors of scandals circle around this guy like flies around manure and yet he always seems to come clean. Despite proof of infidelity, no less than seven women in the past twelve years, his wife has stayed by his side and is always smiling and happy. The women quietly disappear from the public eye after a few photo ops to get the Senator's name back in the paper, then a couple months of quiet before the next one appears.

Aside from the sex scandals that follow politicians like the aforementioned flies around manure -- if an analogy is appropriate, why change it -- tales of criminal activities have also been mentioned in connection with Sen. Grebner's name. All the stories are vague, no real proof, no