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    Lee Hacklyn 1980s Private Investigator in Faith Hunters: Lee Hacklyn, #1
    Lee Hacklyn 1980s Private Investigator in Faith Hunters: Lee Hacklyn, #1
    Lee Hacklyn 1980s Private Investigator in Faith Hunters: Lee Hacklyn, #1
    Ebook95 pages1 hourLee Hacklyn

    Lee Hacklyn 1980s Private Investigator in Faith Hunters: Lee Hacklyn, #1

    By John Leister

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    About this ebook

    New York City. 1986.

     

    Lee faces his greatest challenge when he confronts Legion,

    a privately-funded terrorist group, bent on world domination

    and the elimination of religious freedom.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJohn Leister
    Release dateJun 9, 2022
    ISBN9798201467500
    Lee Hacklyn 1980s Private Investigator in Faith Hunters: Lee Hacklyn, #1

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      Book preview

      Lee Hacklyn 1980s Private Investigator in Faith Hunters - John Leister

      CHAPTER ONE

      NEW YORK CITY. 1986.

      Well, now.  If it isn’t my favorite tenant.  I was just about to come see you, Mr. Hacklyn.  I was going to congratulate you.  An entire month has gone by and not a single tenant has complained about you.  Mr. Bentley is very happy with you.  He told me that you not only paid for his medical bill, you wrote him a check for five thousand dollars.  I had no idea you were so wealthy, Mr. Hacklyn.

      Her voice didn’t drip with sarcasm, it thunder-stormed.  Mrs. Dunn was my apartment building manager, well into her twilight years, built like a human Hindenburg and liked to smoke two cigarettes at the same time.

      You live long enough, you wind up seeing things that you never imaged you’d see.  And could never unsee.

      She didn’t have bags under her eyes, she had beer kegs. 

      Last month, in a fit of rage, I threw my thirteen-inch television to the floor, which jarred a chip of paint loose from the ceiling of my neighbor, who lives below me, the aforementioned Mr. Bentley.

      The chip landed in his eye.  What are the odds?  For me?  Better than average.

      He threatened to sue me, even though his eye is fine.  I think the fact that he healed so quickly disappointed him.  Maybe the idea of suing me gave him purpose. 

      Life’s pretty meaningless without purpose.

      For the time being, my life’s purpose was unplugging my toilet.

      I smiled and said, Good morning, Mrs. Dunn.  May I please borrow the plunger?

      It was in the corner of her office, under a Playgirl calendar.  There was an image of a muscular, naked man on it.  Good for you, Mrs. Dunn.  You’ve proved that an old woman can objectify a young man just as an old man can objectify a young woman. 

      Some folks are for equal wrongs as much as they are for equal rights.

      Again?

      I anticipated this.  She could be difficult.

      The last time was two years ago.

      I remember.  I’m eighty-eight years young and I’ve plugged a toilet exactly zero times.  You’re what?  Twelve?  And you’ve already done it twice?  What happens?  You look out a window, see a police car and down go your drugs?  Which would explain a lot about you.

      That’s very funny, Mrs. Dunn.  I’ll bet you could get a booking on the Tonight Show.

      Don’t be a fucking jerk.

      CHAPTER TWO

      She coughed, hoarked up some a lougie-blob, I felt my breakfast rise, and spat it into a garbage can.

      Then, she made me jump out of sneakers when she slammed her age-spotted hands on her desk and snarled, Plungers aren’t expensive.

      It’s Sunday and the closest hardware store is closed on Sundays.  How about this?  I borrow the plunger and leave you five bucks for a deposit.  When I bring the plunger back, washed and Lysoled, of course, I get my money back.  How’s that?

      Counter proposal:  I rent you the plunger for five dollars and I keep the money.

      Sorry to interrupt.  Mrs. Dunn, my kitchen sink is plugged.  May I please borrow that plunger?

      Certainly, dear.

      Mrs. Dunn, all two tons of her, rose from her desk, picked up the plunger and made a big show of handing to her, as she were God handing Moses the Ten Commandment Tablets.

      When the young woman took it, I felt the swell of her breast against my upper arm.  It wasn’t the most unpleasant feeling in the world.  I’d never seen her in the building before.  She had long blonde hair and it was in a ponytail.  Her loose blouse was revealing and she smelled like lavender.  I guessed her age at around thirty.  I guessed that she was unmarried by the lack of any rings on her fingers.  I guessed that this must have been a day of the week, because I was in love again. 

      I’m Lee.

      Jennifer.  I just moved a few days ago.

      I shook her pretty hand and felt like all the electricity in her petite body invaded mine.  As far as invasions went, I wasn’t going to resist this one.

      She said, I’m going to synagogue at 930.  Would you like to come with me?

      I had plans to stay home and watch tv all morning, but I can reschedule.

      She chuckled.  Swoon!  Mrs. Dunn’s eyes rolled her sockets.  She really didn’t like me.  I don’t like it when people don’t like me.  It makes me sad. 

      Short answer?  Yes.  That sounds nice.

      Meet in the lobby at nine.

      Cool.

      She left with the plunger and entered the elevator.  I willed myself not to check out her behind.

      Mrs. Dunn, why were so nice to her and why are you so mean to me?

      You’re the tallest twelve-year old I’ve ever seen.  What is it, a glandular thing?  And what are you complaining about?  You got a date.  I haven’t had a date since December, 7th, 1941.  And that went just about as well as Pearl Harbor did.  Try boiling some water.

      Thank you, Mrs. Dunn.

      Wait.  One more complaint, Mr. Hacklyn, and you’re out.  I’ve already typed up an eviction notice with your name on it.  All it needs is my signature.  The sword of Damocles is hanging above your head, Mr. Hacklyn!  Have a nice day.  Your zipper’s down.  From where I’m sitting, you don’t have a lot to brag about.

      CHAPTER THREE

      FROM THE DIARY OF CLINT COURAGE

      Up at six.  Sunday.  No urgent matters pressing.  All things considered, my life is a good one.

      I’m forty-three, and in a relationship with my sec...um, I mean, executive assistant, Cherry Pine, who’s perfectly fine, or so it seemed to me, with the fact that I live with my Mother in a Queens, one-bedroom apartment.

      Things were a little tense between me and Sid.  For a brief time, he was married to Cherry.  He told me that he kept

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