More excerpts from The Girl with the Itchy Tigger Finger

What might happen if Wallander met The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and they both lived in Minnesota….

Excerpts from the soon to be released fictional blockbuster:

The Girl with the Itchy Tigger Finger

published by Pass the Swede, Bro’ Ltd  publishers

Chapter Five, The New Partner

Hertz, slowly coming out of his Oxycotin and Shiraz haze, wondered why Krumbkakken called him for a 6 am meeting.  He took a big swig of his triple espresso. It wasn’t like Krista to spring an early meeting on Ballbrakker.  His eyes, blurry and stinging, could just make out the colors of the traffic lights and barely read the 10’ tall letters of the “Welkommen to Milaca” sign as he entered town.  His Volvo was dirty, outside, from months of winter sand and salt; and the backseat stuffed with the floatsum and jetsum of his life as a divorced homicide detective who made his job his wife and his mistress and his pet dog and his small power equipment needs… ja, his job was his whole life almost dare dontcha know.   He had his daughter Belinda and his dad Bjork, but they were speed bumps on the road of life for the hard charging, hard drinking homicide cop,  Hertz Ballbrakker.

The police station was an ugly 1970’s cinder block construction with aluminum trim eye-sore, It was the old converted bingo hall but like most office buildings  since the Wal-Mart was erected outside of town, it had fallen into disuse and minimal maintenance.  No use spending money on something downtown where the stores were either vacant or sold coffee and crumbcake until 11 am and then shut down.  He parked the car, but was angered that  his normal, reserved spot was occupied by a  sporty pink Vespa scooter adored with little decorative pink/silver streamers off the handbar grips and with a  full Hello Kitty graphics package on the scooter chassis.

He entered the station and shuffled down the cracked linoleum flooring.  Coming to Krista’s office he knocked on Krumbkakken’s door and heard two female voices laughing and cackling like audience members of an Oprah show taping.

“Ja, you are so right there girlfriend…. Oh my,…. Ja come in”, called Lieutenant Krumbkakken chocking back a belly laugh.  “ Oh dare you are Hertz come in and meet your new, partner…..”

Hertz spit a mouthful his triple espresso with extra creamed milk halfway across the room.  “ What the fig newtons are you saying Krumley, er Mame, you know I work alone, how else do you think I can get my ass in mortal danger on every case I take?  Are you nucking futs!!!”

“Hold it there Ballbrakker, you ain’t even given her a chance dare.  Meet Tizzabutt Flatliner and I expect an apology is in order, mister.”

“Yes, mame, I guess you caught me off guard so early in the morning.”   Hertz shifted his half opened slits to the young woman to his right.  He scanned corn row braids on the sides of her head, a gelled mohawk with pink frost tips, more skin piercings than Denis Rodman, and a makeup job that would make Courtney Love blush; Hertz barely contained a gasp.

“Ja sorry chief and…. Nice to meet you dare Flatliner, I guess.”  He held out his hand to shake but Tizzabutt ignored the gesture.

“Call me Tizz for short and if you call me Butt be prepared for an asswhipping of Biblical proportions,  Ballzy.”

Hertz could feel his blood pressure build to 200 over 120; he thought the nerve of this snot nosed punk.  “The name is Ballbrakker, Hertz Ballbrakker, and I hope you don’t call me at all if you know what I mean, Flaty”

Tizzy slowly stood up and gave Hertz the internationally known gaze called“The Look”.

About donnphoto

Photographer, writer, manufacturer's rep. Specialize in fine art, travel and architectural photography. Writing a fictional novel (see Ballbrakker links) and music lyrics. Sell commercial interior building products. Play golf poorly.
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