Installment #4 Excerpts from The Girl with the Itchy Tigger Finger

Summary:  Based on the premise that the two Swedish book series Wallander and Steig Larsson’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo get mashed together and transported to Minnesota, ja you betcha.  Hertz Ballbrakker and Tizzabutt Flatliner combine to solve a murder mystery that could bring down the biggest name in bowling…. er golf.

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  Seven: Good Cop, Butt Cop

Hertz looked at his watch and sighed, it was 1:45 pm and Tigger was already 45 minutes late for their interview.  It had taken days of negotiation with his staff to get him to commit, with the threat of subpoena being the stick that got the Tigger to bounce to attention.

Hertz sipped from the Styrofoam cup, drinking the gut rot they passed off as coffee from  the Police canteen. “Hey Tizzy if you fly I’ll buy, how about a couple coffees from Caribucks, pretty please?”

“Hey how about a doughnut too?”  asked Tizzabutt.

“Na, I gotta watch my….. < SMACK > …. Johnny Quest and Hadji too!!!, Tizzy what the frick was that for? ”  Hertz screamed after taking a left hook from Tizzy on the choppers.

“Hertz, don’t it, get it dumbass?  …. Listen Ballzy get your own fucking coffee, I don’t do handmaiden duty OK dude!”

Hertz rubbed his face and was glad his dental work was still in place, man he was really beginning to hate his new partner.  She was worse than a rookie cop, she was a psychopathic rookie cop he thought. “  Okay Ms. Flatliner, I don’t need your help in any form.  So this is my interview and if you can keep your well pierced lips closed you can hang here and maybe see how we handle suspects.  Just being tough doesn’t make you a good cop, you could learn to be a little more…. ”   Hertz’s rant was interrupted by the door opening and Tigger Forrests coming in and followed by another gentlemen that Hertz knew all too well, Howie Rosenbomber, Minnesota’s most high-profile defense attorney.

“Howie, I should have known, always a pleasure.” , Hertz said giving Howie a perfunctory handshake. “And Mr. Forrests, nice to meet you as well, wish it was under more pleasant circumstances, but this shouldn’t take much time, we just need to get some statements from you regarding some recent contact you might have had with some of your more … er lets us say friendly fans.”

“ Yea I think this will be real short”  stated Howie,  “ I have advised my client, Mr. Forrests not to tell you anything about his personal life.  As you well know, my client is an American icon and even the slightest hint of something unseemly could be incredibly damaging to his reputation and his earnings. You better have some damn hard evidence of my client being involved in any way with this heinous crime spree, which I would think a better police department would have solved by now, tsk , tsk.”  Howie shot Hertz a look of disgust and  then looked down to  admire his noontime manicure and how his reflection showed up so well on his fingernails.

Hertz was forming a response, when Tizzabutt beat him to it.  “ Listen Mr. Rosen-not-da-bomb, I got a little news for you.”

“I’m sorry and you are who or should I say what?  I thought the freak show was coming to town in August when the State Fair opens, Jesus, Hert you guys must be ……”

“Oh Owie, I’m your worst nightmare, you see I understand that…. no, let me rephrase that, I have evidence you were a major silent shareholder in Henny Decker’s former empire and you have given some very heavy “contributions” to the judge working the case.”

“Now wait a cotton picking moment there Missy Metalface, you better be careful ….”  Howie replied with hate dripping from his words.

“Careful?…., no I think you’re the one who better be careful, unless your wife would  like to see some interesting IM exchanges you have had with your secretary, Candy.”

“What,… how could you possibly,…. I have never…”  stammered Howie.

“The name is Tizzabutt Flatliner and I was the one who helped break the case of Mr. Henny Pecker and his little financial boo boos, so maybe you better find something else to do for the next few hours.   May I suggest getting your Yahoo account shut down my little wahoo.”

As much as Howie wanted to fire back he thought better of it and turned to Tigger and patted him on the back,  “ Best of luck Tigger, I don’t think I need to be here,  you’ll  do just fine without me, call me after your done and let me know how things went. Nice to see you again Hertz and hope we can meet again Miss Flatliner.”  Howie picked up his briefcase and bolted out of the room before Tigger could protest.

“Weird huh.  Well Mr. Forrest I got some photos here I like to show you and see if you know any of des girls…”    Tizzabutt cleared her throat loudly….” I mean woman, dare Tigger.”  said Hertz.

Hertz took out some 8 x10 inch photos form an envelope.  He spread out  shots of three different woman; all of  whom were young, blond, and stacked like a double meat Subway footlong with extra mayo but no pickle or hot peppers, they disagree with my stomach; on the table in front of Tigger .  At first Tigger showed little reaction, and no sign of recognition.  He shrugged, shook his head in the negative and said “  You know, I see so many young woman and other fans every day , I mean they look vaguely familiar… but I can’t say I know any of them.”

“Well maybe these photos will help you a little more.”  Hertz spread out several more shots, but this time they were crime scene shots and some from the morgue as well.  Tigger winced, and his eyes filled with horror and shock.

“Oh my God, what a waste of good puss…  no I mean ass   no no ….I  mean humanity, oopsie.”  stumbled Tigger.

“Well do you know des woman Tigger?”  gently probed Hertz.

“Gosh, they kinda do look like some woman I have met, but I don’t know quite where or when….”

“Gee Tig, all these victims tested positive for seminal fluid in every orifice and the joy juice seems to match …. hmmmm…. Some famous bowler I think we all know oh so well.”  Inserted Tizzabutt.

“Golfer, Tiz.”

“What you mumbling about Ballzy?”  asked Tizzabutt obviously annoyed being corrected.

“For Chaddyshack sake, Tigger is a Golfer,  NOT A BOWLER!”  shouted Hertz as he pounded the table and his eyes bulged with anger.

“Golfer, Bowler, Whorer, cheater sailor, or seamen you guys are pathetic…. and speaking of seaman I do know we got a semen match, you links lounge lizard!!” , Tizz firmly stated.

“How do you have any of my DNA to do a match with?   This is total bullshit! “  replied the increasingly upset sports god.

“Well maybe you should be more careful with your empty Poweraid bottles, you fucking litterbug, pervert and MURDERER!!!!”   Tizzabutt stood leaning in towards Tigger and was spitting out words like venom, making both Hertz and Tigger involuntarily bring their hands down to protect their swimsuit areas.  Hertz recovered quickly and took his right hand and put Tizzabutt back down in her chair, pulling on her shirt tail.

“That’s enough Tizzy!”  said Hertz, his face a bright crimson and leaving no doubt that Hertz wouldn’t be pushed any further.   He waited for the tension in the room to settle down and he turned to Tigger and said as calmly as he could muster, “ so once more Mr. Forrests, do you know dees woman dare? Huh, doja?”

Tigger bowed his head and seemed to be saying a prayer or rehearsing for a future Nike ad and finally he spoke…. “ Yes, yes I know them.  I have had some “close time” recently with all of them, but I swear on the grave of Bobbie Jones I never hurt them, I used lubricant and I am sure your little CSI lab can verify that.   I use only Tigger approved  Cat Nip love oils available from Killette at fine retailers everywhere.”

“ Spare us the commercial you bastard, what are you doing with these woman in the first place?  Don’t you have a little lady back at home?   And a couple little Tigger cubs if I recall?”   accused the livid Tizzy.

“Yes, I am married to my little Swedish hot dish, Olay Poopenbraun, but hey what can I say” turning towards Hertz, Tigger continued…  “ sure I thought she would be my one and only, but man after a couple of years it  just gets so stale:  the same positions, the same silicone boobs, the same three minutes – squirt and boom off to the land of nod.  But the thing that really drove me crazy was I would be getting ready to penetrate and she shout out ‘IT’S IN THE HOLE!’  every goddamn time.  What a sorry Swedish wench Olay is.”

Both Hertz and Tizzabutt gave him death stares; you don’t insult Swedish woman dare in Minnesota dontcha know.

“Well Tigger, I have to say it looks serious for you unless you have an alibi and give us a complete timeline when and how often you met with the victims.  Also who else do you travel with that might know about your little pickadildos pardon the French …oui?, or help to arrange your so called “close time?”.  So why don’t  ….”

You can dance, you can jive
Having the time of your life
Ooh see that girl, watch that scene
Dig in the dancing queen

It was the ringtone on Hertz mobile phone going off.   “  Jeez dare, excuse me, Jesus, Belinda how do you get these stupid tunes on my phone?  ‘Ja Hertz here.  Good and you dare?  Say that again… another body, Holy Sardine dip!!… this time from an ice fishing shack on Mille Lacs?… Ja we will try to get to the morgue in about 90 minutes…bye. ‘   Well Tigger it’s your lucky day, we got another murder to solve but dis one ain’t got a divot in her noggin.  But you better stick around Milaca and get us some answers on des woman and the list of your employees or friends who travel with you.  And by the way maybe you better keep your tigger out of any unauthorized tanks if you know what I mean.”

“ Hey! Tigger you ever had a Hertz Doughnut before?”  asked Tizzabutt as Tigger rose to leave.

“NO TIZ, Dooohhh….<SMACK>  ,”  screamed Hertz, but it was too late, Tigger was already on the floor laid out like a sweeping Par 5 fairway dogleg left and unconscious to boot.

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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. www.donnphoto.com
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