Lady Justice on the Dark Side (Volume 19) (3 page)

CHAPTER 4

    A funeral is rarely a happy occasion, especially if it’s the funeral of a close friend or family member, and Vince Spaulding was most definitely a close friend.

    As we gathered at the gravesite in the Floral Hills Cemetery, there was a bite in the air as the temperature had fallen into the thirties for the first time during this fall season.

    Vince’s casket suspended above the cold ground was in stark contrast to his plans to spend his remaining days in the warm Florida sun. His life and his dream had been taken by a senseless vendetta that was not of his making.

    As the chaplain spoke the words that are meant to comfort the bereaved who have been left behind to mourn, I couldn’t help but remember some of the cases we had worked together.

    On one occasion, we had been undercover at the local Buy Mart Super Center to help smoke out a ring of thieves that were bleeding the store dry. A shoplifter who had been caught red-handed made a break for the loading dock, and Vince, the retired baseball coach, plucked a coconut from the fruit stand and fired a perfect strike to the back of his head.

    I had to smile as I recalled another case which took us months to live down. We were posing as a gay couple at the Cozy Corner Bar. I distinctly remember our first date and our first dance together. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but we got through it.

    Good times --- but now my friend was gone.

    The report of the rifles as the color guard fired their salute to a fallen brother jarred me from my reverie.

    The bagpipes had just started playing the mournful strains of Amazing Grace, when an explosion in the parking area brought the service to a halt.

    A car sped away, leaving behind a police cruiser engulfed in flame, the work of a Molotov cocktail.

    This vicious vendetta had not only taken our friend, it had also taken our time to say good-bye.

    I squinted at the red glow of the digital clock. Six A.M.

    For the first time in five years, I could have slept as late as I wanted, but my internal clock was used to getting up at this early hour so I could be at the precinct to clock in at eight.

    I tried to roll over for another few winks, but the old bladder was telling me it needed immediate attention.

    Maggie was still zonked out, so I slipped quietly out of bed, padded to the bathroom to take care of business, then headed to the kitchen.

    I brewed my coffee, retrieved the morning paper and had just finished my bowl of Wheaties when Maggie arrived.

    The little hand of the clock over the sink was on seven. That was my regular cue to get dressed and head to work --- but not this morning.

    “So what does my man of leisure have on his schedule for today?” Maggie asked, pouring a cup of joe.

    I just shrugged. I hadn’t actually made any plans. “No idea.”

    “Well, I have clients this morning. Would you like to come to the office with me?”

    Maggie and I had both been real estate agents at City Wide Realty for many years. At sixty-five, I was tired of the rat race and traded in my briefcase for a badge. Maggie, on the other hand, is still going strong. She is a very good agent and seems to thrive on the interaction with her clients, plus, her annual commissions are nothing to sneeze at.

    In the five years I had been out of the business, the real estate world had dramatically changed. I had briefly considered the possibility of getting back in, but I would have been like a new rookie just learning the trade. As I have aged, my tolerance level has also decreased dramatically, and since patience is a virtue for real estate agents, that was another discouraging factor.

    “No, thanks for asking, but I’ll pass.”

    I walked Maggie to her car and had just retraced my steps to the front porch when my old friend, Willie, appeared.

    “Hey, Mr. Walt. How’s it hangin’?”

    “Kind of low this morning. It’s my first day of retirement and I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to do.”

    “How ‘bout a game of checkers?”

    “Sure, why not?”

    After being trounced three games in a row, I was through with checkers.

    Willie was just folding the board when Jerry stepped onto the porch.

    “Ahhh, checkers. Who won?”

    I pointed to Willie.

    “Figures. You up for some video games. I remember you getting a kick out of Mario Kart.”

    “Sure, why not?”

    After an hour of being blown up, squashed and run off the road, I was through with Mario Kart.

    I looked at my watch. It was only 10:30.

    I moseyed to my car and headed to our local Hy-Vee grocery store.

    When Vince and I were undercover at Buy-Mart, it crossed my mind that at some point I might want to do something where people weren’t shooting at me, and working at a large market was certainly a possibility.

    Every time Maggie and I shopped at Hy-Vee I had noticed that a lot of the employees were my age and older, so I certainly fit the demographic.

    Although I really didn’t need anything, I got a cart and ambled down the aisle.

    An old guy that I had seen a dozen times was frying little pieces of sausage in an electric skillet. He deftly skewered the cooked meat with a toothpicks and proudly presented them to passersby. They looked like little boogers on a stick.

    “Try one of our pork sausages?” he asked expectantly.

    “Sure, why not?”

    He watched with great interest as I slipped the little booger into my mouth.

    “Outstanding!” I lied.

    He beamed with pride as I walked away. I had made the old dude’s day.

    I knew that job wasn’t right for me. I couldn’t see myself getting excited about fried pig meat.

    From somewhere in the store, I heard a ‘crash,’ and a few minutes later the intercom blared, “Earl, clean-up in aisle four.”

    When I reached aisle four, poor Earl was on his hands and knees trying to corral a puddle of syrup that would soon run under the display shelf.

   
Nope, couldn’t do it
, I thought as I wandered away.

    The next aisle was a big mistake. It was the donut aisle.

    By this time every other morning, Ox had pulled into either Krispy Kreme or Dunkin Donuts and we shared one of the tasty treats while reliving the previous day’s escapades.

    I spotted a box of the powdered sugar variety and chuckled as I remembered the day he sneezed just as he opened the box, filling the cruiser with powdered confetti.

    I plopped a box of them in my cart for old time’s sake, and I wondered who he had shared a donut with today.

    After roaming the store for another twenty minutes, I headed to the checkout to pay for my powdered sugar treats.

   A large woman with a huge cart filled to the brim was ahead of me.

   The old gentleman bagging her order was Mort. I had seen him there many times and remembered the name from the little tag he wore on his apron.

    The woman watched intently as he went about his business.

    “Don’t mash my bread!” she bellowed.

    “Yes, Ma’am.”

    “Careful with those eggs! If I get home and one is cracked, I’ll be back!”

    “Yes, Ma’am.”

    “Be careful with my fruit. It bruises easily.”

    “Yes, Ma’am.”

    I knew right away I couldn’t be a sacker. I have a concealed carry permit, and if it had been me, I would have shot the old bitch dead after her second remark.

    When my turn came, the checker asked the usual question, “Paper or plastic?”

    On most occasions, much to Maggie’s chagrin, I will answer, “I can go either way. I’m bi-sackual!”

    But not today.

    I had come to the store hoping to find something, but it just wasn’t there.

    As I headed to my car, I spotted two officers in a black and white squad car making their rounds.

    I bit my lip, trying to hold back a tear.

    That’s where I wanted to be.

    I looked at the box of donuts in my hand, then tossed them in a trash can.

    It just wasn’t the same.

CHAPTER 5

    I had just finished a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which was less than satisfying, and ambled out onto the front porch when Kevin McBride pulled up in front of the building.

    Kevin is Maggie’s brother --- actually, half-brother.

    Maggie hadn’t seen or heard from her brother for nearly fifty years, presuming him dead, until a few months ago when he showed up at our door out of the blue.

    He was dying of kidney failure and had come hoping his sister might be a compatible and willing donor. Maggie was willing, but not compatible and that opened the door that led to the discovery that Maggie’s mom had a secret lover who was actually Maggie’s father.

    Kevin’s disappearance was the result of being placed in the Witness Protection Program after testifying against a Kansas City mobster.

    He had been relocated to Phoenix, where he spent the better part of thirty years as a private investigator.

    It just so happened at that point in time, we were investigating an organ trader ring which had set up shop in Kansas City. Kevin’s unfortunate condition made him the perfect shill to lure the ringleader into the open.

    An unforeseen series of events brought Kevin the kidney he so badly needed. Thankfully, the operation was a success, because shortly after, Ox and I were framed for multiple murders in the King Tut case by a pair of corrupt cops. We were exonerated and the bad guys were brought to justice as the result of a clever sting operation orchestrated by Kevin.

    Kevin was brash, hard-nosed and unpredictable, but lovable just the same. In the months since his unexpected arrival, he had become part of our extended family.

    “Hey Bro, how’s that new hole in your kiester coming along?”

    “Still tender, but healing.”

    “Good to hear. I’m sorry I didn’t get to the hospital when you were laid up. I really meant to but ---.’

    “Not a problem. So what brings you by today?”

    “What?” he said with mock surprise. “Can’t a fellow just stop by to see how a brother is getting along?”

    “Some people might,” I said, grinning, “but not you. What’s on your mind?”

    “Okay, okay, you got me. I need a favor. Are you busy this afternoon?”

    “Gee, I don’t know. I’ll have to check my calendar.”

    “Cut the crap, Walt. I know you’re retired and if I know you, you’re already bored out of your mind.”

    “Maybe, maybe not. Depends on what kind of scheme you’re involved in now.”

    “All I need is a couple of hours of surveillance for a case I’m working on.”

    “Case! I didn’t know you were actually working cases. I’ll bet you don’t even have a P.I. license do you?”

    “Don’t need one. I haven’t set up an office anywhere or done any advertising. It’s just a word of mouth kind of thing. Think of it like a teenager who does a good job babysitting. Some parent needs a night out, so they call. Same with me. A guy heard I was in town so he called. It’s just a one-time thing.”

    “So who’s the guy?”

    “Dino Bonnaducci. He owns Kodiak Furs. Some of his high end stuff has been walking out the door and he hired me to find out who and how. I’ve been working the case a couple of weeks --- that’s why I didn’t get by the hospital --- and I’m pretty sure I’ve got this thing nailed down.”

    “Then why do you need me?”

    “I think another fur is going to be lifted this afternoon, but it’s from a warehouse with two rear exits. I can’t cover both of them. I need you to watch one exit while I watch the other.”

    “So what am I supposed to do if the perp comes out my door?”

    “Shoot him!”

    “WHAT!”

    “Relax,” he said, tossing me an Olympus SLR, “shoot him with this. Just snap a couple of shots of the scumbag with the goods. That’s all you have to do.”

    Since there really wasn’t anything else on my schedule for the rest of the day, I figured I might as well give it a try.

    I followed Kevin to a warehouse in the West Bottoms.

    He had me park in an alley a half block from the exit I was to watch.

    “That’s the door. Just keep your eye peeled and if the perp comes out, get your shots and give me a call on my cell phone. Got it?”

    “Seems simple enough. So we don’t try to nab the guy or call the cops?”

    “Nope, our job is just to gather the information and deliver it to Bonnaducci. It’s up to him how he wants to handle things from that point.”

    Kevin left to man his post on the opposite side of the building.

    Surveillance is always boring. Ox and I had done a ton of it over the years. At least during those times, I had him to talk with and pass the time.

    As the hours ticked by, I thought about the cases we had worked together and wondered how he was doing with a new partner.

    I missed the big guy and missed our time together on the job. I kept telling myself I had made the right decision to retire, but I had no idea it was going to be this hard.

    I had to really fight to keep from dropping off to sleep, but when I saw the warehouse door pop open, the adrenalin kicked in.

    A short, stocky guy carried a garment bag almost as big as he was. It was a good bet that a very expensive coat had just walked out the back door.

    I snapped a half dozen photos before the guy disappeared around a corner.

    I dialed Kevin’s cell. “Got him!”

    Kevin showed up a few minutes later.

    “Short, stocky guy?” he asked, taking the camera.

    “Yes.”

    “Damn!” he said, thumbing through the photos on the camera screen.

    “What? Didn’t I do it right?”

    “Oh, no, you did it right. The problem is that it’s Dino’s cousin.”

    “So what do we do now?”

    “We take this to Dino,” he said, taking the SD card from the camera.

    A few minutes later, we were in the plush office of Dino Bonnaducci.

    “Bad news, Dino,” Kevin said, handing him the SD card.

    “It’s Frankie, isn’t it,” he replied, shaking his head.

    “I’m afraid so.”

    “Well, it is what it is. Thank you for a job well done,” he said, handing Kevin an envelope.

    “I’ll be around if you need me,” Kevin replied, pocketing the envelope.

    Outside, Kevin pulled the envelope out of his pocket and peeled five one hundred dollar bills off a wad of cash and handed them to me.

    “Jesus, Kevin. All I did was snap a few photos. Five hundred? How much is in that envelope?”

    “Five grand. That was a bargain for Bonnaducci. He had lost over fifty thousand in furs and it would have been more if we hadn’t caught the guy.”

    “Holy crap! That’s quite a payday for a babysitting gig.”

    “There’s more where that came from. If I happen to need an extra hand and you’re not too busy, are you interested?”

    “I might be, as long as it’s nothing illegal.”

    “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, smiling. “Say ‘hi’ to Maggie for me.”

   The next morning, I was doing my usual morning routine, reading the paper while consuming my bowl of Wheaties.

    I dropped my spoon, and Wheaties splattered out of the bowl when an article buried on page six caught my eye.

    In the early hours of the morning, police found a car in a gorge below Cliff Drive. The driver, identified by police as Francis Bonnaducci, had apparently lost control of the vehicle on a curve, crashing through a guardrail and plunging fifty feet into the gorge below. Evidence at the scene led authorities to believe that alcohol might have been a contributing factor.

    The article hit me in the gut and I almost lost my breakfast. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, I had taken photos of the guy stealing furs and now he was dead. There was just no way this was a coincidence.

    Then I remembered Kevin’s words when I asked him what was to happen next, “It’s up to him how he wants to handle things from that point.”

    It was pretty obvious how Bonnaducci had handled the situation. His cousin was dead.

    I was furious.

    I threw on my clothes and was headed to the door when Maggie stopped me.

    “Where on earth are you going at this hour?”

    “I just have something I have to take care of,” I replied, slipping out the door.

    I parked in front of Kevin’s building, climbed the stairs to his apartment and pounded my fist on his door.

    He answered in his robe and slippers.

    I waved the article in his face. “We need to talk.”

    “I figured I might be hearing from you today,” he replied.

    “How can you be so nonchalant about this? Francis Bonnaducci has been murdered and it’s our fault!”

    “Sit down, Walt.”

    “I don’t want to sit down. I want to know what we’re going to do about this.”

    “Please, sit. I know what you’re thinking and you’re not responsible for Bonnaducci’s death.”

    “How do you figure? I can’t wait to hear how you rationalize this one.”

    “First of all, it was Frankie’s choice to rip off his cousin. He had to know there would be consequences if he was caught.

    “Second, you’re not responsible for how Dino dealt with the information we gave him. Sure, he could have gone to the cops, but he chose to handle it his own way.”

    “So, knowing what we know, we have to go to the police.”

    “And tell them what? You read the paper. They’ve already put this to bed as a drunk driving accident, and you can bet your butt that Dino has an iron-clad alibi for last night.”

    “So that’s it. He gets away with murder? Where’s the justice?”

    “Really, Walt? The justice is that a guy screwed up and paid the price. Look, I know that for the past five years you’ve been working for Lady Justice, the one in the white flowing robe and wearing a blindfold. When you worked for her, you went by the book. How many times had you seen a perp who was guilty as sin walk away because your Lady was blindfolded by the letter of the law? Where was your justice then?

    “Well, your Lady Justice has a sister and she doesn’t wear a white robe. She wears a skin-tight skirt, fishnet stockings and high heels, and she for damned sure isn’t wearing a blindfold. It’s still her job to make sure the scales of justice stay balanced, but she isn’t bound by the same rules as her sister.

    “Take this Bonnaducci case. As far as the cops know, there was never a crime committed. They’ll never know about the theft of the furs, and they’ll never know how the situation was resolved. How many of those do you think occur in a year’s time? Plenty. How many cases are on your books labeled as ‘unresolved?’ Plenty. That’s the other Lady Justice that you just met today doing her job. You may not like it, but it’s just the way it is.”

    “That may be true, but I don’t have to be part of it,” I said, slamming the door.