Cross-Over Murders by Frank F. Atanacio Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

It was early the next morning, and Nick Barnum found himself waiting for a contractor to pick him up for manual labor. He couldn’t get there at six, but later was better than never. There weren’t too many laborers waiting. Nick knew it was because the others were already picked up and working.
The sound of a blurring siren shot right through Nick’s chest. It almost literally scared the shit out of him. He looked and saw a homeless guy sitting on the hood of a gray BMW 535i. Even though the man activated the alarm, he didn’t move. He just took two sips from some container wrapped in a brown paper bag.
In a flash, he snapped back, focusing on the task at hand. He knew he had to get started, and getting up too late wasn’t going to cut it. He had to do the job right.
Seated behind the wheel of a white van with the words, Clean Works, was a fat dough-boy like looking man. He was very heavy, and he wore white overalls, and a white tee-shirt. He had jelly stains on his chin, and missing front teeth.
“Hey boy, office cleaning six bucks an hour,” he shouted.
At first Nick didn’t think he was talking to him, but he spat toward him and nodded.
“I don’t do cleaning,” Nick said.
“Job is a job.”
“I don’t clean, just paint.”
“Don’t tell me you illegal aliens are picking and choosing now?”
“Yeah, we are.”
“You son of a bitch,” he said as he spat again toward the private investigator. “Last time I try to put money in your stank ass pocket!”
Nick Barnum stared at the contractor for a moment. He really wanted to pull his fat ass out of the truck and beat him senseless. He wanted to do that, but that wasn’t part of his job. He didn’t want to cause a scene. Not just yet.
The van sped off and the driver stuck his middle finger out the window at Nick Barnum, but that didn’t bother him at all. Nick knew that the fat ass had to do his own cleaning. And by the looks of him, there wasn’t going to be much cleaning done today.
A thin dark skin Latino boy walked toward Nick and stood directly in front of him. “Hey man, why didn’t you take that job?”
“Six bucks,” I said.
“But you pay no taxes man,” he added.
“Can’t do it for six bucks.”
“I wish he would have asked me. All the good jobs are taken.”
“A lot of contractors came by early?”
“Yeah, they didn’t want me cuz I’m too skinny,” he said. “They are afraid I might get hurt on the job. But I could have done some cleaning.”
Nick nodded.
“Damn man!”
“Anyone looking for painters?” Nick asked.
“They are always looking for painters.”
“Did you see the names on the trucks?”
“I don’t look for that shit,” said the Latino boy. “I just jump into the truck and pray they pay me that same day.”
Nick nodded.
“It’s the way it works around here, feel me?”
Nick nodded again.
“If he comes back,” said the Latino boy. “Tell him I’m available. I’ll do the cleaning for six bucks.”
“I’ll do that.”
Nick looked around and knew that the day was shot. He had no reason to believe that he was going to be picked up for manual labor. He had not beaten the clock. He looked around and saw that the owner of that BMW came out checking for dents.
The homeless man drifted from sight. His target was to be alone behind the car wash parking lot on Madison Avenue. Perhaps to take a piss, or just hide from peering eyes.
Back to the drawing board.
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