Les Norton and the Case of the Talking Pie Crust by Robert G. Barrett

time, Micah managed to push himself to his knees and the two men tripped over his broken, battered body, tumbling clumsily into Les instead of tackling him. Behind a flailing tangle of arms and legs, Les was pushed backwards through the partially open door at the end of the hallway into a dimly lit room, knocking over a Laminex table behind him and everything on it. Managing to stay on his feet in the melee, Les had a moment or two to set himself before Brett scrambled up first, ready for another go.
    Stepping back a little, Les pivoted and Brett walked straight into a right cross that sent him crashing over the nearest table, scattering the contents noisily across the room. Turning quickly to his left, Les just had time to move back as Zackswung a right front kick at his head. Norton stepped around the kick and caught Zack behind the knee with the crook of his right arm, smashed him in the face with a left backfist then slammed his left knee into Zack’s back. Zack howled with pain, then howled again as Les swept him off his feet and he came down hard on his spine onto a heavy iron pot lying on the floor. Not wasting any time, Les stomped a Doc Martens into Zack’s balls, then booted him in the solar plexus before kicking him in the temple, knocking him out cold.
    Brett was still groggy. But he got to his feet and came at Les throwing wild punches from all angles. Les went underneath and doubled him up with four solid combination punches that made him gasp with pain. Almost in one movement, Les grabbed Brett by his mop of curly hair, held his head down and smashed his knee up into Brett’s face, spreading his nose across his cheekbones. Still holding Brett’s hair, Les let him fall towards the floor then spun his face around and pounded it with short rights till Brett’s eyes rolled back and he went still. Hearing noises coming from the hallway, Les dropped Brett and stared apprehensively through the open door.
    Micah was crawling aimlessly around the floor in circles, covered in blood and still cursing Les. ‘Get out of here, you cunt,’ he rasped. ‘I’ll fuckin kill you. I’ll kill you.’
    Noticing the heavy iron pot lying on the floor, Les picked it up and flung it at Micah’s head, splitting it open. ‘Ohh, shut the fuck up.’
    ‘Ahhhrghhh. You rotten, fuckin cunt,’ Micah howled painfully as the iron pot bounced off his bloodied head and clattered across the hallway. ‘I’ll kill you. I’ll dead set fuckin kill you. You cunt.’
    ‘Good.’ Les ignored him and gazed around the faintly lit room. Besides those that had been knocked over, Les could make out another three tables stacked with gas rings, woks, pots, glass beakers, glass bowls, plastic trays, a set of scales, a pill press and other items, all being cooled by electric fans. The walls were covered with sheets of blue plastic and stacked against the walls were black drums with HAZCHEM markings on the sides; piled next to the drums were plastic bags of white powder and an assortment of other things. Fumes from a pot boiling on one of the tables caught in Norton’s throat and eyes and Les didn’t need a degree in chemistry to know he was standing in a drug lab. Stacked near a door in the corner were three brown plastic garden chairsand sitting on the top one was a green leather bag with an eagle on the side. Well, I’ll be buggered, smiled Les. There’s Bodene’s bag. Unreal. I’ll put it inside a plastic one to make sure nothing falls out, then hit the toe.
    Les picked up an empty plastic bag from a pile on a table, and was about to walk across to the stacked chairs, when the door in the corner opened and a skinny, sallow-faced man with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail walked into the room. He was wearing a black T-shirt under a pair of khaki overalls, and cradled in a pair of heavily tattooed arms was a pump-action shotgun. The man spotted Les through the gloom and brought the barrel up.
    For a brief moment Norton froze, then his