Mice: Dead & Busy, #3

By Kfir Luzzatto

TALKING MICE ON YOUR BED

 

A Mouse That Keeps Reciting Poetry to You, Is a Pest

 

When white mice plague a short-tempered mobster, he hires Dave Callaghan to find out where they are coming from. The mobster wants to know why the mice wake him up in the middle of the night to recite "Mary had a little lamb" to him.

 

Dave is used to dealing with ghosts of every description, but this time he is facing a complex conspiracy that involves the government and a lascivious ghost.

 

Episode 3 of the DEAD & BUSY series - the one with the Aussie ghost sailor.

 

"Dave Callaghan is not here to bring you profound, life-changing thoughts; only quick, unadulterated fun."

• Language: English
• Publisher: PINE TEN
• Release date: Sep 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781938212611

Kfir Luzzatto

Kfir Luzzatto is the author of twelve novels, several short stories and seven non-fiction books. Kfir was born and raised in Italy, and moved to Israel as a teenager. He acquired the love for the English language from his father, a former U.S. soldier, a voracious reader, and a prolific writer. He holds a PhD in chemical engineering and works as a patent attorney. In pursuit of his interest in the mind-body connection, Kfir was certified as a Clinical Hypnotherapist by the Anglo European College of Therapeutic Hypnosis. Kfir is an HWA (Horror Writers Association) and ITW (International Thriller Writers) member. You can visit Kfir’s web site and read his blog at https://www.kfirluzzatto.com. Follow him on Twitter (@KfirLuzzatto) and friend him on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/KfirLuzzattoAuthor/).

Book preview

DEAD & BUSY

EPISODE THREE

MICE

Kfir Luzzatto

EPUB Edition

PINE TEN

CONTENTS

CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5 | CH6 | CH7 | CH8

CH9 | CH10 | CH11 | CH12 | CH13 | CH14

Meet the Author

Other Stories in the DEAD & BUSY Series

Books by Kfir Luzzatto

CHAPTER 1

Where the hell are they coming from?

When Frankie asked a question, it always sounded like he was placing the blame on someone—me, in this case. Instead of answering, I squashed the white mouse that had just climbed out of his coffee cup. The mouse had the consistency of putty and felt like it; no bloodshed was involved in the squashing.

I needed time to think. Fiddling with the mouse wouldn’t buy me much time, though, because as soon as a white mouse was reduced to a flat pulp, another one popped up somewhere else. This time, one materialized on Frankie’s shoulder and stood there, gazing at me reproachfully.

That wasn’t a very nice thing to do, Mr. Callaghan, it said with its feminine, squeaky voice. That blow hurt my brother; you know that, right?

I ignored it and turned my attention back to Frankie, who was giving signs of impatience. Pacifying him was my top priority.

What do they want? he asked, speaking more petulantly than before.

They wouldn’t say, I answered, as if he didn’t know that.

I hired you to find out, remember?

Well, yes …… if sending a couple of ugly goons to yank me out of bed in the middle of the night counted as hiring, then he had hired me.

I gazed at Frankie Leone and didn’t like what I saw. I could tell that he was badly pissed off and his red face, with its orange-peel look and porcine eyes, was uglier than ever. His fat body quivered and he jerked his left knee incessantly. He was hideous, even considering that he was a dangerous mafioso. Left alone, I would never have dreamt of working for him, but I wasn’t given a vote.

Be patient, Frankie, I pleaded. I’m working on it and will find something soon.

No, he won’t, squealed the white mouse; I grabbed it harder than I had to and put it in the small cage that I had brought with me.

He says you won’t, said Frankie, speaking dangerously.

It’s a mouse, for gosh sake! I pointed out. You can’t go by what it says.

Look here, Callaghan. You must make them go away. They are ruining my business. They pop up while I talk about delicate operations. Yesterday I was discussing a shipment of quality material with one of my West Coast cousins and this mouse pops up and keeps telling him that the police are after him and that the shipment will cost him twenty years in the clink. After that he was running so fast that you couldn’t see his dust.

I know, I know, I said, trying to sound really sympathetic.

And I can’t get any sleep either. Last night I woke up to find one of those things reciting ‘Mary had a little lamb’ to me. You must stop it, and now ain’t soon enough.

Certainly, I said, dutifully. I’m doing my best.

Well, you do your best and rid me of them before the end of this week, or I’ll have to get a new private eye.

A new PE? I echoed, swallowing with difficulty. When Frankie took on a new employee, you had to dig in the concrete blocks at the bottom of the bay to find the old ones.

Yup!

I started to put together a plea for more time—considerably more time—but that was when Lena, Frankie’s wife, walked in, taking my breath away. I had never seen her before but I had heard that she was astonishingly beautiful, although nothing could ever prepare me for the real thing. The thought that she was married to a piece of cheese like Frankie was difficult to digest.

Are you done, Honey? You promised to take me to that new boutique.

No, I’m not. Go away! Can’t you see that I’m busy talking business?

Oh, but I get sooo bored, Love! And you know that it’s bad for my skin.

Then tell Boris to take you. What do I pay bodyguards for?

OK, I’ll go with Boris. But you aren’t cross, Sweetie, are you?

No, no. Go! he said, and turned to me.

I was amazed. This broad had just called the toughest gangster this side of the river Sweetie in the presence of a witness and got away with it without a murmur. I hadn’t thought it could be done. Perhaps the mice were sapping Frankie of his toughness. But that, apparently, didn’t apply to his approach to me.

Now get the hell outa here and get busy! he ordered.

I got up, taking