Insurrection: Carla Larsen Mystery

By charles fisher

A national terrorist organization attacks Stratford after Orion Motorcar Company owner Christine Connor refuses to pay them protection money. A shopping center is burned to the ground, and a 747 has to be shot down in town  as it heads for the Orion plant. Carla et al track the organization to its highest levels and dispense a little justice, Carla style.

• Language: English
• Publisher: charles fisher
• Release date: Jan 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393546467

Book preview

Insurrection

Land of the Free and the Home of the Dead

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United Nations Headquarters Complex

New York, New York

First Avenue & East 42nd Street

August, 2007

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That one, Carla said as a new Lincoln with New Jersey plates pulled up and parked. It said Red Light Escorts on the door. A statuesque blonde with four inch heels got out. She adjusted her micro mini skirt, pushed up her boobs, and ambled off towards the line of limousines parked along First Avenue. Sellin’ pussy must be a good business, Carla grinned.

Really? Harper said. You think? That’s like Colonel Sanders telling me selling chicken is a good business.

Pussy tastes better, Carla said as she watched the girl. And you still got it after somebody eats it. You cannot do that with chicken.

The girl walked over to a limo whose window had just rolled down. She leaned inside.

Take her, Carla said.

Harper ran over and grabbed the girl by the hair and dragged her away from the limo. You’re under arrest for conspiracy to violate the Mann Act, she said.

Fuck off, the girl snapped. I got protection from the NYPD.

Not from me, you don’t, Harper said as she handcuffed the girl around a light pole. I can change the bulb in this thing to red if it will make you feel more at home, she smiled.

The swarthy little rat in the limo held up his credentials.

Diplomatic immunity! he said. I can do what I want to you, and you cannot do shit about it.

Harper looked around, and went over to the limo.

Nobody was talking to you, Slick. Stick your immunity up your ass.

You cannot talk to me like that, the greasy midget snapped. I am a diplomat.

Who cares, Harper said as she slipped a pair of brass knucks onto her hand. I’m a cop, and you’re a grubby little asshole from some shitty country that leeches off the United States. Now shut the fuck up, or you are out.

Out where? the man said as he reached for something in his coat.

Out cold, Harper grinned, and cracked him in the jaw. He slumped over on the seat, unconscious.

Hey! the driver yelled. What the hell do you think you’re doing? He’s a diplomat!

You aren’t, Harper said. Would you like me to toss this car? I bet I’ll find pot or cocaine; under the New York Penal code, the driver is responsible for any contraband found in a vehicle. Now take this asshole to a hospital and have his jaw wired. The man put the car in gear and sped off. Harper went over to the girl, who was talking to Carla.

Gal buys all her shit from Huge Hefner’s House of Pleasure, Carla grinned. He got  a new bra with Jerry Falwell’s picture where the nipples be, and some Jimmy Swaggart Tampons.  I got to get me some of them.

Charming, Harper smiled. I’m going to go pop the escort service driver. You keep Barbie company.

You leave him alone! the girl screamed. He’s my father!

What? Harper exclaimed. Your father is your pimp?

Yeah. So what? At least he don’t steal my money.

Unbelievable, Harper sighed as she trudged off to the Lincoln. She walked up to the driver’s window, showing her badge. Police. Out of the car  with your hands where I can see them. You’re going to share a cell with your whore daughter. Think of it as a family reunion gone bad.

You arrested Julie? You can’t do that.

Yes we can. Out of the car.

No. I ain’t doing it. We got clearance to work this street, the driver said.

From who? Harper said.

Chief Rocco Balducci; Manhattan Detective Division South.

Really? And just how did you get his permission to transport women across state lines for purposes of prostitution? The driver looked away. Harper pulled her Python and put it against the driver’s head. I asked you a question, dude. I’m a one question type of gal, she smiled. Ever see what a .357 does to a human head at point blank range? I don’t ask twice. Four, three, two...."

All right, for chrissakes. I hear he gets a piece.

I thought the only ones who got a piece were the creeps who fuck your daughter up the ass. What piece is he getting?

I don’t know. That ain’t none of my business. I just drive the car.

Not any more, Harper grinned. Like I said, out of the car  with your hands up. And I do not recommend that you run for it. It’s a lot of fun when suspects do that; for me, anyway. The suspects never seem to enjoy it very much, though. Oh well, saves me  a trip to the pistol range.

They were loading Julie and Daddy into the cruiser when a car from the 17th Precinct pulled up. A Sergeant leaned out the window.

Hey; you can’t do that, he said. Let them two go. You got no jurisdiction here.

Fuck off, Carla said, holding up her I.D. Federal Prosecutor. These are my collars. You can tow the Lincoln; I ain’t payin’ for it. You can sell it to a fucking chop shop for all I care; just make sure Balducci gets his cut.

You accusing the Chief of corruption? the Sergeant said as he got out of the car and waddled over.

Yeah, we are, tubby, Harper grinned. We’re going to deal out Barbie and her Dad for information, then we’re going to do the same thing with the escort services who pay Balducci. Then we’re coming back here with a federal warrant and arrest his ass. If these two idiots implicate you, we’ll have a second warrant. What do you think about that, fatso?

You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, the Sergeant said. Cars have a hard time getting out of Manhattan this time of day, you know. Sometimes they just disappear.

Carla opened the trunk of the cruiser and took out her B.A.R. Was that a threat? I like threats from stupid crooked cops, she said. She jacked the bolt and pointed the big rifle at the Sergeant.

Where did you get that thing? he shrieked.

Tag sale, Carla grinned.

Those are illegal!

Not this one. I got a federal firearms license and an Executive Order from G.W. hisself what says I can take this anywhere I want. Now do not trifle with us, boy. Do not send your goons to stop us on the road. This rifle ain’t the only thing we got.

You’re going to be sorry you did this, the Sergeant said as he went back to his car.

Not as sorry as you, Carla said as a bus full of nuns pulled up. The Mother Superior got out and hugged Carla, who slipped her several bundles of hundreds. Bless you, Sister, she said. Go do God’s work.

Fifteen nuns got out of the bus with anti prostitution signs; they started marching up and down in front of the limousines on First Avenue. One by one, the limos took off. The remaining escort girls went back to their cars.

Nobody wants to mess with a nun, Carla said.

None tonight, none tomorrow night, Harper grinned. Carla just stared at her. Hey; I thought it was funny.

Nobody else did, Carla said as they headed for the highway.

This is going to make a lot of trouble for us, you know, Harper said.

Yeah; so what. Trouble ain’t nothing new to us.

Stop at Mickey D’s in Greenwich on the way in, Harper said. Maybe they won’t know who we are.

McDonald’s Restaurant

Boston Post Road

Greenwich, Connecticut

August, 2007

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Carla parked near the back of the lot and called Shannon Flynn. Hey, it’s Carla. Yeah; that  Carla, asshole. Are you drunk? Really? Already? We’re at the Rainbow Room. Care to get thrown out with us? Oh, I didn’t know that. Put on a disguise or something. Yeah. Sure; bring Tyler. I like him. Okay, see you in a few.

Is she loaded? Harper giggled.

Do you really need to ask? Carla said. She’s wasted. She’s also banned from every eatery in Greenwich.

This should be a lot of fun, Harper squealed, rubbing her hands together. You and Flynn  together at a fast food joint? It’s like hitting the Daily Double at a mental hospital.

I am not crazy, Carla said. I am just somewhat out of balance.

Ten minutes later, horns blared over people yelling as Shannon crossed in front of oncoming traffic, went over the sidewalk, and knocked over a planter with her new Jaguar. She yanked hard on the wheel and put a three foot long dent in a new Maserati.

Oops, she grinned, and headed to the back where Carla was. Tyler got out, shaking his head.

Miss Flynn, this is a restaurant, not a demolition derby, he sighed. You could be arrested for leaving the scene of an accident and evading responsibility.

I didn’t evade shit, and I didn’t leave the scene. Not yet, anyway, Shannon grinned. Besides; the Greenwich cops like me. They won’t do anything about it.

Carla and Harper got out; Shannon was wearing a curly black wig and sunglasses.

How’s this? Shannon gurgled as she chugged a Coors Light. Did you recognize me?

Oh, no, Harper laughed. Greenwich is full of six foot tall blondes with big tits and a new Jaguar all smashed to hell.

I’m five foot ten, Shannon said. And screw the Jaguar. When it gets too banged up, I’ll set it on fire and collect the insurance. I don’t report accidents any more; it’s too expensive. My policy is up to twenty grand a year, she grinned. That’s a record.

Carla drove through the garage door at our house in Stratford, Harper said. Too bad it wasn’t open at the time.

Cool, Shannon said, high fiving Carla. I got that beat. Last time I was here, I tore the drive through window off the building with a camper. The P.D.’s asshole Lieutenant wanted to arrest me, but I wouldn’t let him.

You have the only car in the country with an outstanding warrant issued by the Air Force, Tyler said.

And I am proud of that accomplishment, Shannon nodded. I told you F-16s weren’t that fast.

They went inside; one of the waitresses gave Shannon a funny look, and went over to the manager. She whispered something and pointed at Shannon. Uh oh, they made us, Shannon said. The manager came over.

Are you Shannon Flynn? he said.

Nope. I’m her twin sister from Chicago. Funny how twins  look alike, isn’t it?

I’ll have to ask you to leave, he sighed.

Go ahead; ask me, Shannon said. And make it in the form of a question, like Alex Trebek always says.

All right, would you please leave?

Nope. I can’t. I’m Blondie’s prisoner. I’m wanted in Stratford.

That’s right, Carla said, holding up her badge. She’s a collar for some motor vehicle shit she pulled. I cannot release her from custody.

Perhaps you should go with her, then; she is not welcome here.

Screw you. I am a police Chief and so is she, Carla said, pointing at Harper. And we are hungry.

She? the manager grinned, looking at Harper. Are you sure about that?

Here we fucking go again, Harper sighed.

You throw us out  and you won’t have a job tomorrow, Carla said. And maybe not a building, either.

All right, the boy sighed. She’s your responsibility if anything goes wrong. He turned and started to walk away. Shannon reached down and grabbed his ankle; she yanked upwards as hard as she could. The boy went down chin first into the tile floor, knocking himself out cold. A waitress ran over.

What happened to Terry? she exclaimed.

Looks like a seizure or somethin’, Carla shrugged. Boy just fell down. Why you askin’ me? I look like a damn doctor to you? Start feedin’ us, and git this dude away from us.

What do you want to eat? she said as she motioned for the other two counterpersons to collect Terry.

Pate de foie gras, bouillabaisse, a rare steak, and crème brule, Tyler smiled. And a fine Chianti.

We ain’t got that. We got hamburgers and French Fries, Chicken McNuggets, them little hot apple pies, and soda. No booze.

Such is life, Tyler sighed. I will have a quarter pounder with cheese meal.

Next," the girl said, looking at Carla.

I’ll have the same, only I want ten of them. And a diet coke, she grinned. I got to watch my weight.

They’re watching it from the space shuttle, Harper grinned. I’ll have two of those and an apple pie. Black coffee, no sugar.

Ain’t you that fag actor? the girl grinned at Tyler.

I am indeed the one and only Tyler Brooks; recipient of six Academy Awards, Tyler smiled. It is a well known fact that I am gay. What’s your excuse? he smiled.

Hey, watch it. I got a boyfriend, the girl said as she dug at something in her ass.

And what a fortunate chap he is, Tyler smiled. Now run along and smell your fingers.

She’s close to the line, Shannon said as the girl went to put in the order. Let’s kill her, she grinned.

After we eat, Harper said. I know; make her ride in your car. She’ll die of fright.

Tyler wears a blindfold when he rides with me now, Shannon said. Big pussy.

You should talk about big pussies, Tyler snickered. Does anyone know the difference between Miss Flynn’s pussy and a bowling ball? You can’t fit your foot in a bowling ball.

Ha, ha, Shannon said. If you ever saw a pussy, you’d die of shock.

Hey, have you heard anything about the People’s Foundation for Economic Fairness? Carla said.

Sure, Shannon shrugged. Just another Communist front terror organization from California couched as social equality. You know; what’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is mine, too. They extort businesses. Why?

They opened a chapter in Stratford, Carla said. They rented a rather large building.

And you let them? Why the hell didn’t you stop them? They are tied to every subversive left wing radical group in the country. They stage rallies, then the professional agitators come in by the bus load and stir up the crowd. Before you know it, you have a full scale riot on your hands. They like to burn cities. They lit up seventeen blocks in East Los Angeles last January, then they started shooting at the fire department when they came to put out the fires.

Sounds like Miss Coleman’s last birthday party, Tyler said. There were so many candles on her cake, they had to call the fire department to put them out.

That bunch is no joke, Shannon said. They tried to open a branch here; the Mayor got the Governor to send him some National Guard troops to chase them out of town. You better do something about them before they start those crazy fucking rallies.

How many of them boys are there? Carla said.

Nationwide? About twelve thousand. Most of them have a sheet, too. Arson, murder, inciting to riot, you name it.

Damn lawyer rented the place, Carla sighed. We never heard of these dudes. Who knew.

You better make sure it gets un-rented, Shannon said. And do it now, while you still have a town left.

Okay, Carla shrugged. I will see to it they get the message, loud and clear. We like shit like this, she grinned.

Don’t take them light, Shannon said. They are suspected in the murder of over a dozen cops.

Sounds like we got to go see G.W. again, Carla said. He’ll sign anything I tell him to.

You have an in with that dimwit? Make it fast; he’s got something wrong with him. Word is he’s going to leave office early. Then that nut job Banks will take over. Now there’s the guy you want helping you. Talk about throwing the hammer; he owns the hammer factory.

I will try, Carla sighed. That’s all we can do, is try.

Stratford Police Department

900 Longbrook Ave.

Stratford, Connecticut

August, 2007

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They’re what? Carole exclaimed. How the hell did this happen? We can’t have people like that here!

Tell Weinberg the Jew Computer dude, Carla nodded. Remember that empty parcel on Lordship Boulevard where he had his limo registered? It ain’t empty no more. Sid put up one of them big assed metal buildings; he rented it to these assholes through some Jew shyster.

Barry Green, Carole snickered. I went to high school with that skunk; he’s worse than Sid. He used to steal gym suits out of the laundry his Uncle owns, and sell them back to the students.

Is there anybody you didn’t go to high school with? Harper said.

Not many in this town, Carole said. People from Stratford do not tend to move until they retire. Then they go to Florida or Arizona.

Them boys extort businesses accordin’ to Shannon Flynn.

Uh oh; that building is a few blocks away from Orion Motors. You better go warn Christine Connor about this.

The Orion Motorcar Company

Lordship Boulevard

Stratford, Connecticut

August, 2007

You may have a problem, Harper said. A domestic terrorist group rented a building down the street. They are known for extorting protection money from large corporations.

I know, Christine said. They were already here.

What did they say? Carla said.

They said they expect a check for ten million dollars as a donation to their foundation by the end of the week. I refused, of course.

Did they threaten you?

Not in words you could arrest them for, Christine said. When I said no, one of them flicked a cigarette lighter and smiled at me. He didn’t say a word. Is that enough to arrest them?

Ehhhh, Harper said, wiggling her fingers. Maybe, considering their history. I’ll have to check with the D.A. They’d probably get off, because an action like that is subject to interpretation. It isn’t an overt threat; it’s implied. We’re going to take care of them our way. Better known  as the hard way.

You shouldn’t allow scum like that in our town, Christine said. How did this happen?

Jew lawyer, Carla said as she stuffed some Virginia twist into her cheek. "Carole knows the dude. He’s a sleaze bag. He made the deal for