Blue Justice (16 page)

“I’m Agent Falkner with the FBI.  I am working on a case and I need your help please.”

The guy came to life, with a sense of pride that the FBI needed his help.

“Yes ma’am, what do you need?” he asked straightening his shirt in his pants.

“Do you remember a Lenora Wells working here?”

He thought for a minute and then his eyes grew big to match his smile.

“Yes ma’am, I knew her, well I didn’t know her—know her, but I used to see her come to work when she worked here.  I believe she works at one of the hospitals downtown.”

I stayed quiet as Margaret filled his head with all the possibilities of helping the FBI and that when he applied for the agency, that she would give him a recommendation for hire.  I noticed that she did not leave her card.

After she was done, I asked him a question.

“By the way, is there or was there ever a tall black guy maybe bald that used to work here?  Or perhaps he still does?”

He thought again and rubbed his chin.  “Yeah, you are talking about Jennings.  He was a mental health worker.  Strange type and always kept to himself.”

“You remember what his first name was?”  I tried to hide the excitement in my voice but it didn’t work.  Margaret and I both were damn near leaning over the guy waiting for his answer.

“Yeah, it’s Money—Money Jennings.  I remember because some of the workers used to tease him about his first name, especially when he be looking broke all the time.  In fact some of them called him Baron Samedi, you know like the tall guy from one of those James Bond movies from long ago.”

Margaret and I looked at each other.  We had him.  We knew who he was.

“Do you have an address on that guy, or know where we might be able to find him?” asked Margaret.

“That is privileged information.  I could get fired for that.”

Both Margaret and I knew we couldn’t make him cross that line.

“Wait a minute,” he said.  He typed something into the computer and looked up at us.  “I have to go to the restroom.  Could you all watch the desk for me for a minute?”  He winked his eye at Margaret.

I moved my lips and formed the words, Thank You.

Margaret wrote down the address and we were out of there before he got back to the desk.

The address was near Kenilworth Avenue and Quarrels Street.  The ghetto.  The area looked run down.  Some buildings were boarded up.  Graffiti was on every wall.  Even an advertisement for buying crack was painted on one of the walls.  The name of the apartments was faded from the sign outside.

We walked to the first apartment, downstairs on the right.  I really wanted to knock the door down, but we really didn’t have any hard evidence that this was the guy.  I rapped on the door.  Nobody answered.  I looked at my watch; it was close to 10P.M.  I rapped on the door again but still no answer.  We heard a noise above us.

“If you are looking for Monday, he ain’t here,” said a teenaged boy.

“Do you know where he might be?”  I asked.

“Are you all cops?” he asked.

“No, we are friends of his from the hospital.”

I had to respond fast.  We didn’t want to leave and let this guy know the cops were on to him.

“Oh, ya’ll are from that crazy hospital huh,” he asked.

“Yes, that’s where we are from.”

The boy was quiet for a few seconds

“Well he ain’t here because his car ain’t here.  He might be down at Six Flags.  He hangs out down there sometimes.”

“Okay, thank you,” said Margaret, rushing me off the porch.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said.  I then turned around to Margaret who was walking fast to her car.

“What is the rush?”  I asked trying to catch up.

“Get in,” Margaret almost seemed to be in panic.  “We have to go--
Now
!”

“Six Flags is near the exit where our victim Ms. Bishop was killed.”

“Son of a bitch!”  I said aloud before I knew it. 

Margaret hit the gas and the sedan rose up in the front.  I put on my seatbelt as the speedometer got up to 80.

She turned on her lights and siren.  In the traffic, it would have normally taken 30 minutes or more to get to Six Flags.  We got there in 10 minutes.

She turned off the lights and siren when we got to the exit.  We slowly pulled into the park and pulled up to the locked gate.  She turned the car off and we exited the car and gently pushed the doors closed. 

I pulled out my .45 and Margaret pulled out her weapon.  We walked up to the gate.  We heard noise behind us.  A woman screaming.  We ran in the direction of the screams.  The woods were dark.  Margaret stayed close behind me.  I turned on the light on my muzzle.  The screams were getting louder.

I saw the woman fighting for her life.  Kicking and wailing her fists.  The tall man was on top of her with his hands around her throat. 

“POLICE!!!  FREEZE!!”

He looked up in my direction, got off the woman, and ran.  I ran after him. 

“Stay with the woman,” I yelled back at Margaret.

“Okay,” she responded.

I kept my light on his back.  Thought about shooting him but I had no clear shot and I didn’t want this bastard getting away if I missed. 

We must have run about 200 hundred yards through the thick trees before he got tired enough for me to rush him.  I dived at his legs and tackled him to the ground like I did guys when I played football in high school.  My gun slipped out of my hand.  I saw the light but I didn’t have time to grab it. 

This guy was strong.  I expected that, but I didn’t like it.  He started kicking at me but I had a death grip on him.  I finally got to where I was on top and I straddled myself over him.  He grabbed me around my neck with one of his huge hands and reached in his pocket.  He brought out a knife.

I grabbed his hand with the knife and used the pressure point to make him drop it.  Lord help me.  I was thinking about those women.  I was thinking about Charlotte.  I grabbed the knife, wrapped my fist around the handle, and came down into his shoulder.

His scream was deafening.  I pulled the knife out and came down again in the same shoulder.  He screamed again.  I pulled the knife out again and pushed myself off him.  I looked back at the light on my gun and went and picked it up. 

“Don’t you move, you sick bastard, or I will blow your head completely off your body.”

I ordered him to roll over on his stomach.  I reached in my back pocket for my cuffs. 

“Put your hands behind your back,” I ordered.

Once I got him to comply, I straddled him and with my knees, I kept his arms locked behind him until I could get the cuffs on.  He screamed in pain again.  I didn’t care.  I had caught this bastard.  I got him up and ordered him to walk. 

Sirens were getting close and I could see the emergency lights through the trees.  I pushed him with my gun-free hand into the direction of the lights. 

“Are you okay, Jared?” asked Margaret, “I heard screaming.”

“I’m fine, it was him.”  I gave her the bloody knife.  Two patrol officers placed the bleeding Money Jennings also known as ‘The Ripper’ in the back of their patrol car. 

“How about the woman, is she ok?”

“Yes she is fine, just a little--well a whole lot-- shook up, but we got here in time.”

Chapter 7

After I called Charlotte and told her we caught the guy, I crashed in the bed.  I felt my spirit leave my tired body for a few hours, sleeping so hard I couldn’t remember my dreams.  The next morning, I packed our things and walked out to my car.  Margaret was standing by it wearing sunglasses and a smile on her face.

“I hope you didn’t mind the FBI using your name in the press to help solve this case.”

“I saw it on the news as I was packing.  No, I don’t mind.  I am ready to get back home to my wife.”

“He confessed last night to the murder of ten women.  Of course we intend to match DNA with each one, but we got him.”

I nodded.  “Did he say why he murdered all those women?”

“As it turned out, each one of those women had one thing in common.  They all worked at the mental hospital with him.”

“So my guess is he killed them because they didn’t find him attractive right?”

“Well that was the biggest of it.”  I waited for her to finish the rest.

“He said he read about how black women were murdered in 1911 in what was known as the Atlanta Ripper Murders and he wanted to bring fear to all the black women again.  He says he felt the power it gave him after he killed them.”

“So did he say how he knew about us at this hotel?”

“Yes, that was a big concern for me too,” she said.  “He said he actually saw you two walking one day from the hotel and remembered you from that night.  He asked one of the maids in the hotel if they knew what room you stayed in because he had an important message for you.  He wouldn’t give us her name or description, but I have agents looking into it now.”

We heard some noise behind us near the front doors.  One of the maids was cussing as she was being escorted out of the hotel, apparently rougher than she would have liked.

“I assume that is her.”

Margaret smiled and nodded.  “We believe she may be a relative—perhaps a sister.”

“Well I guess this is goodbye,” I said, extending my hand.

“Yes, I guess it is; goodbye, Jared and thanks again.”

“You are welcome.  Goodbye.”

I got in my car and drove out of the parking deck.  When I got near mile-marker 51, I couldn’t help but glance over at the spot where I met Beatrice Bishop and Lenora Wells.  Two women who fell victim to a psycho. 

I figured the next time Charlotte and I decide to go somewhere, it was going to be a cabin in Gatlinburg.  Maybe, just maybe, we won’t the job won’t follow me there.  I turned on the radio.  I could already pick up Birmingham.  The R&B radio station came in strong.  I got into the groove of the music as I drove back to Tuscaloosa.