Lady Justice on the Dark Side (Volume 19) (14 page)

    “I see. Hmmm, I hope we still have Monarch’s files in storage. There gets to be so much. We’ve shredded hundreds of boxes of documents.”

    My heart sunk.

    “Let me see what I can find,” he said, tapping his computer.

    “You may be in luck. I show an inventory of forty boxes of Monarch material in our warehouse. Sounds like you have your work cut out for you. I’ll get you a visitor’s pass and take you to the warehouse.”

    The warehouse was made of sheet metal with ten foot high ceilings. Along each wall were metal shelves with boxes stacked floor to ceiling. I noticed right away that there was no heat, or if there was, it was turned down
very
low. It was cold enough I could see my breath.

    As we walked along the aisle, there were signs on the shelving that bore the names of different trucking companies, Cross Town Trucking, Brown’s Cartage, etc.

    Near the end of the aisle, we spotted the sign bearing the name, Monarch Trucking.

    “Here you go,” Simmons said. “Just put things back the way you found them. If you find what you’re looking for today, return your visitor’s pass to the front reception area. If you need another day, just hang onto it. Good luck!”

    I decided I would start at the top while I was still fresh and work my way down. I spotted a step ladder and climbed to the highest box.

    When I pulled it out, a layer of dust filled the air and I nearly choked. Based on the quantity of dust that filled my lungs, I figured nobody had been in the boxes since they were placed there in 1972.

    I soon discovered there was no rhyme or reason as to how the boxes were packed. It looked as though someone had been instructed to box up whatever was in Monarch’s office and they just started stuffing whatever they could find. One box had a few delivery logs interspersed with bundles of cancelled checks. I was going to have to go through every box.

    When the light started to fade, I checked my watch. It was almost five o’clock. I decided to call it a day.

    When I walked in the door, Maggie greeted me and her first words were, “Ewwwww! You stink and you look like Pigpen from the
Peanuts
cartoon.”

    Just what a guy wants to hear.

    After a long, hot shower, I told Maggie what I had been doing all day while we shared a pizza she had ordered.

    “I can certainly relate to her wanting to know about her father,” Maggie said. “When I found out I wasn’t really a McBride, I just couldn’t rest until I knew who I was. I hope you can help her.”

    “Yeah, me too.”

    Bright and early the next morning, I was back to the dusty boxes.

    What I found was that the boxes that contained logs of actual trips had file folders with dates on the tabs.

    Since the company had been in business for thirty-two years, there were hundreds of file folders. It was a matter of looking at each one until I found the one with the date, December 5, 1943.

    I felt a buzz of excitement when I opened a box and saw the first date was December 1, 1943. Four files later, I found the one I was looking for.

    I opened the file and it contained maybe a dozen trips that had been taken that day. I looked at each one until I found the one with that read, ‘Kansas City to The Mayo Clinic, Rochester, Minnesota. Cargo – Medical supplies.’

    I’m sure my heart skipped a beat and I nearly fainted when I read the next entry. ‘Driver – John Williams.’

    Johnny Butterfly was my father!

    When I recovered from my shock, I carefully folded the trip log and slipped it in my pocket. I put all the boxes back where they belonged, stowed the ladder and dropped my visitor’s tag at the reception desk.

    It wasn’t until I was halfway home that it occurred to me that I had swiped Global Trucking property. Then my rationalization kicked in and I told myself that no one had been in those boxes since 1972 and that someday all of it would be shredded anyway. Justifying my questionable behavior seemed to be getting easier.

    As I drove, I tried to decide the proper way to proceed. I concluded that Dr. Crane was my client and she deserved to have the information first. I called and asked her to be at my office in an hour. That would give me time to shower and change clothes.

    Maggie had slept in. She had no clients to work with so she decided to take a day of rest. She was surprised that I was back so soon.

    “You must have found something,” she said, obviously excited.

    I nodded.

    “Well don’t just stand there. Tell me!”

    “Maybe later. Dr. Crane is coming over and I just have enough time to shower and clean up.”

    “Walter Williams, I know when you’re hiding something from me. Now spill it!”

    “Okay, how’s this? I found her father. His name is John Williams. My dad is Johnny Butterfly!”

    Her mouth dropped open and I left her slumped in a chair, dumbfounded, trying to process what I had just told her.

    I had just dressed and combed my hair when there was a knock on the door.

    Maggie had opened the door for Dr. Crane, but I could see she was still in a daze from the bomb I had dropped in her lap.

    I escorted the doctor into my office and closed the door. I had no doubts that Maggie would soon sneak up to listen.

    When we were seated, Dr. Crane looked at me expectantly. “I hope you’ve called me here because you have some news.”

    I nodded. “I do indeed. I’m just not sure how to break it to you.”

    “You found my father! Is he dead? Don’t be afraid to tell me. I was expecting that.”

    “No, actually, he’s very much alive.”

    “Really! How exciting. Where does he live? Is it far away?”

    “No, as a matter of fact, it’s very close.”

    “Please! Quit teasing. Who is my father?”

    I took a deep breath. “His name is John Williams.”

    I paused as I let the name sink in.

    “Williams? Surely you don’t mean --- ?”

    “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. We have the same father. It looks like I’m your half-brother.”

    It was a good thing she was sitting down.

    “But how?”

    “Let me tell you about my dad. As you know, he was an over-the-road trucker. He was a good man, a good provider, but he was seldom home. Mom practically raised me on her own. When she died, Dad and I drifted apart and I hadn’t seen him for years. Then one day, about four years ago, I got a call from a retirement home in Arizona. He was being kicked out.”

    “My goodness! What for?”

    “Lascivious behavior. You have to understand something about our father. He is really a good person, but he has one flaw that has plagued him all his life. He is an incurable romantic and he can’t keep it in his pants.”

    “Oh dear!”

    “He has been living here with me since he was booted out of Shady Rest and I have to tell you, he has been a model father.”

    “So he’s living --- here?”

    “Right downstairs. Would you like to meet him?”

    She didn’t respond.

    “I know. It’s a lot to process.”

    “You have no idea. A month ago, I was totally alone with no family or relatives of any kind, and now I discover I not only have two nephews, but a half-brother and a father as well.”

    I figured I might as well tell her the whole story. “Actually, you have two half-brothers.”

   “Two?”

    “Yes. Your mother was a one night thing, and I mean that in the nicest way, but Dad also made regular trips to the west coast. He had another young woman way out in western Kansas somewhere that he visited on a regular basis. She also became pregnant, but Dad was transferred to another route and never knew. One day, a man came to my door and introduced himself as my half-brother. I won’t go into all the details right now, but he had a very important and personal reason for looking me up. We’ve become very good friends.”

    “Don’t tell me he lives here too.”

    “No, Mark Davenport works for Homeland Security in Washington. He pops into town every once in a while. I’ll let you know so you can meet him.”

    “Now, back to your question. Yes, I definitely want to meet the man who saved my mother from freezing and swept her off her feet, but maybe not right this minute. I was thinking that Billy Bob and Oren should meet him too. After all, he’s their step-grandfather.”

    I hadn’t thought of that. It was hard to picture Dad as a grandpa.

    “Do you think you could arrange something, say, two days from now? If so, I’ll talk to my nephews and set it up.”

    “I don’t see why not. It should be quite an experience.”

    I made arrangements for Dad to come by my apartment after supper on Sunday. Dr. Crane and her nephews arrived a half hour ahead of him and were comfortably seated in our living room when Dad knocked on the door.

    I figured Bernice, his current, and hopefully last love interest, would accompany him and I wasn’t disappointed. She had been present when Dad was introduced to Mark Davenport for the first time. I saw no reason why she shouldn’t share this moment of revelation as well.