Bill Harvey Collection

by Peter O'Mahoney

  “Almost?”

  She rubbed her arm and looked away again. “Almost. There are other things that have trapped me these days.”

  “Heroin?”

  She nodded, ashamed. “But this, this hatred, it consumed me. And… now, finally, it’s gone. It’s gone.”

  “Forgiveness can set you free.”

  “Do you know what it’s like to be hurt by someone that you love so much?”

  “I do.”

  “And did you forgive them?”

  “I did.” He looked to the water, leaning on the handrail. “My brother, Jonathon, became addicted to drugs in his late teens. Heroin. It tore our family apart. He stole from us, abused us, and even hit my dear old mother. Gave her a black eye. After that, I beat him into the ground and told him to leave the house and never return. He left. That was twenty years ago, and I haven’t seen him since.”

  “Do you think he’s still addicted to drugs?”

  “I hope not. I forgave him for everything that he did a long, long time ago. I only want the best for him now.”

  Michelle looked at Harvey and whispered, “I just wanted him to love me. I wanted…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “What’s in the will, Michelle?” As always, Harvey stopped the emotive conversation from digging too far into past hurts.

  Michelle looked at the paper in her hands. “After my father’s death, I inherited ten million dollars. That was what the old man left me. Ten million dollars. I guess it was his way of saying sorry. I downloaded this standard will form from a website, and filled in the blanks. It says I need a lawyer to witness it, so that’s why I need you to sign it. I need to make sure that the money goes to the right place after I die.”

  She shoved the piece of paper into Harvey’s hands.

  Carefully, in the gently blowing breeze, he opened the piece of paper and read it.

  “You’re donating the money to The East Rehabilitation Center? The one that Carlos works at? And to the other drug rehab center down the road?”

  “That’s right. Five million dollars each.”

  “No one else?”

  “No. It’s my time for redemption.” She scratched her arm again. “It’s my time to let go of the past, and make sure that money goes where it’s needed.”

  He stared at her, hard and cold.

  “Was it the money that made you pull the trigger?”

  Her head turned suddenly towards him, surprised by the question. “Sign the paper.” She gestured towards the will. “And then I’ll answer any questions you have.”

  He read every word on the page carefully, adding his signature where required, holding the paper on his lap as he signed.

  “I need you to sign here.” He left an ‘x’ on the page.

  Quickly, she scribbled her name on the page and handed the paper back to him. “I want you to keep it on file for when my time comes.”

  He nodded and folded the piece of paper in half.

  “Was it the money, Michelle? Is that why you shot your father?”

  “No.” She shook her head, brushing her hair back from her face. “For Juan, it was about the money. He knew that I would have gotten a lot of money from my father’s death. He knew how much that old man was worth.”

  “Then why did you shoot him?”

  “Revenge. Freedom. A chance to leave an old life behind.” She looked back to the water flowing gently under the bridge. The sun glistened off the little waves in the water, creating a sense of peace in her. “When I looked him in the eyes and pulled the trigger, I thought that I would have felt some sort of satisfaction. I had dreamt about it for years. So many years. Freedom from my abuser. I wanted so much to shoot him. Every time Juan made me go to his house and meet him, I just wanted to shoot him. I imagined that over and over. I wanted to watch him suffer so badly.”

  “But?”

  “But I felt nothing. I didn’t feel anything. It wasn’t the freedom that I craved. It was nothing. He didn’t argue, he didn’t even fight back. I had the gun to his head, and he just sat there, almost a smile on his face, and he said that he loved me. That’s when I shot him. I expected that moment would bring me freedom, but I felt nothing.”

  “Where are you going to find that freedom, Michelle?”

  “At the end of that road.” She nodded to the other side of the bridge, but her reference confused Harvey. “Hold onto that will, Bill Harvey. Drug addicts like me don’t generally live that long.”

  “If you find freedom, you may surprise yourself and live for a very long time.”

  “I know where my freedom is.” She began to walk away from Harvey, across the bridge. Despite the lack of pedestrian access, she walked along the side, out of the way of the cars.

  Harvey watched her for a while, her steps small, her head held high, and her shoulders back. From this angle, he would never guess she was a drug addict.

  Her walk looked free.

  Loose.

  Happy, almost.

  But as she walked across the bridge, she stopped halfway. Awkwardly, she climbed upwards, up the tall metal structure.

  The reality of the situation became clear.

  “Michelle! No!”

  Frantically, he ran towards her, across the bridge.

  By the time he made it to her, she was halfway up the towering bridge, too far for him to reach.

  “Michelle! No! Michelle!”

  “This is my freedom,” she called back down to him. “This is my chance to be free from all the pain. This is what I have wanted for so long. I want to be free.”

  “No, Michelle! There is another way! Let me help you. Please! Come down!”

  She smiled as she looked down at him. “You can’t help me, but hold onto that will. It will help so many people. That’s my redemption.”

  “No!”

  Slowly, Michelle Hardgrave stepped her right foot forward…

  With the sorrow of a girl who would never escape her addiction, she fell towards the water.

  Arms wide, hair flowing, smile on her face.

  Finally, she was free.

  Chapter 31

  Feet on his large table, whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other, Bill Harvey leaned back in his office chair, unsure if he was happy with the outcome of his latest case.

  “Could you be any more of a stereotype?” Kate laughed as she stood in the doorway to his office.

  “Just enjoying life’s finer things, Kate.” He took a puff of his cigar. “We’re very lucky people. Despite everything that life has thrown at us, our lives are very good. We live happy, meaningful lives that help make a difference in the world.”

  “Cigars always make you philosophical.” Kate grinned again, her slight figure leaning on the doorframe. With her arms folded, and her hair flowing free, she looked like a picture of good health and good will.

  He so desperately wanted this moment to be at his house, her standing in the bedroom door, after a long day of work, husband and wife smiling at each other.

  “Kate—”

  “Can I ask you something, Bill?” She stepped into the room and quietly shut the door behind her.

  “Go on.” He drew another puff of his cigar. “But remember you’re talking to ‘Philosophical Bill’.”

  “Of course.” She smiled and sat down. “Did Michelle Hardgrave kill her father? After her death, Juan Lewis is claiming that it wasn’t him that pulled the trigger. He’s blaming Michelle for pulling the trigger. Is he just trying to get off the charges, or is there truth in what he’s saying?”

  “Who knows?” Harvey lied. “But if Michelle did kill her father, then she wouldn’t have been entitled to the inheritance. It would be the fortitude ruling, and because she received the inheritance as a result of her crime, she wouldn’t have received a cent. Her will would be invalid.”

  “Where would the money have gone then?”

  “Back to the estate. Then who knows where the money would have gone? There would have been
legal battles for years over that money. But this way, with Juan Lewis charged with Judge Hardgrave’s death, her inheritance goes to people it can help. I don’t think anyone is going to argue over that.”

  “So just because the money has gone to good use, we should just forget about it?”

  “Juan Lewis is a criminal. No doubt about it. He has been his whole life, and he was in the room when Judge Hardgrave died. It doesn’t matter now who pulled the trigger. Lewis deserves his time behind bars. And Lewis has already sold Miles out, which means both Lewis and Miles are behind bars right now. That’s a win in my books.”

  The sound of the front office door opening caught their attention.

  “Carlos is here.” Kate stood, and began to exit his office.

  “Send him in.” Harvey smiled genuinely. “And Kate?”

  “Yes, Bill?”

  Their eyes connected.

  His heart skipped a beat.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  “I—”

  “My favorite people!” Carlos interrupted their moment.

  Harvey broke the eye contact with his secretary and looked to his table. “Hello, Carlos.”

  Walking into the office with the confidence of a man that had faced prison and walked away, Carlos López had a spring in his step that Harvey hadn’t seen before.

  Harvey looked back to the door, but the slim figure of Kate Spencer had already disappeared.

  “So what happens now?” Carlos smiled as he talked.

  “You walk away a free man and live out the rest of your life.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  “Wow. I didn’t think this was actually going to be the outcome. As we were going through that trial, I thought that I was definitely going to have to jump back over the border and go back to Mexico and live my life. I thought there was no doubt about it. I was done for sure. But somehow, you turned it around. The star hypnotherapist turned lawyer. You worked your magic, Mr. Harvey.”

  “No magic involved.” Harvey threw his hands up in the air. “Just a bit of luck.”

  “It was more than luck.”

  “I couldn’t have guessed that he was going to take the blame for the drugs. I didn’t see that coming, especially after he sold you out on the stand.”

  Once Juan Lewis realized he was going to spend the rest of his life behind bars charged with the murder of Judge Hardgrave, he took the blame for the briefcase full of drugs.

  It was his way of taking the fall for his cousin.

  “He didn’t want to sell me out,” Carlos stated. “They forced him to. The prosecution made him sell out Miles and blame the drug charges on me, or they would have thrown him in prison. He told me that they raided another house of his and found another briefcase. He struck a deal to escape those charges, but he didn’t expect to be taking on the blame for the murder.”

  “You’re lucky that he did take the blame for the drugs.”

  Carlos smiled. “My family.”

  “He didn’t sound much like family when he tried to blame you while he was on the stand.”

  “We all make mistakes. And most people make an effort to correct them. He made a mistake, and then he made the effort to correct it. I forgive him for that.” Carlos shrugged. “And in my line of work, most of the people that walk through our doors have made mistakes. They’re all drug users that have seen the worst life has to offer. You have to be able to forgive the people that make an effort to do better in life.”

  “You’re a good man, Carlos.”

  “I try.” Carlos shrugged. “Are you worried about Lewis and Miles coming after you?”

  “The problem with guys like Lewis and Miles is that their ‘friends’ always disappear quickly when they’re thrown in prison. Nobody wants to be associated with a criminal—especially not one that’s convicted of murdering a judge. I wouldn’t be worried about Lewis’ high-powered friends. They’re as fickle as they come. They’ll have forgotten about him already. But his people on the street, they’re another thing.”

  Carlos laughed. “Don’t be worried about those guys. Someone else has already stepped up to take Lewis’ spot. Someone else is already covering the operations. He’s already a forgotten man on the street too. Nobody on the street cares about him anymore.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Harvey took a sip of his whiskey.

  “So that’s it? Are we all done?”

  “Not quite. You’ve been charged with contempt of court for lying about your whereabouts on the day of the raid, but due to your good work in the community, they’re only giving you a small fine. That notice will come in the mail, and I suggest that you pay the fine and forget about it. And considering you almost helped a man get away with murder, I think you’ve gotten off very lucky.”

  “I’m sorry, Bill. If I knew what he was going to do that day, I never would have agreed to cover for him and be his false alibi. I had no idea that he was going to shoot the judge. I wouldn’t have let him go if I knew. He must have been angry that Michelle didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. And if Michelle got off the drugs, Lewis had no power over the judge. I guess all the power just got to his head. He thought he was untouchable.”

  “The killer is no longer on the streets now, that’s what matters. Judge Hardgrave can now rest in peace. His daughter forgave him in the end, and in her will, she asked to be buried next to him.”

  “And the money that she donated will go a long way. The rehab center survived on very little for so long, but even with the money, we’ll keep the same philosophy at the center. We’ll make sure that her donation will make a difference in people’s lives.”

  “That’s wonderful, Carlos. It truly is.”

  Carlos reached into his jacket pocket. “I don’t have a lot of possessions, but as a symbol of my gratitude, I want to give you this photo of the people that you’ve helped. These are the people that have just graduated from our drug rehabilitation process. You’ve helped these people, Bill. This is my way of saying thanks from the people that you’ve saved. These are the people that get another chance because you kept me out of prison. This wasn’t about me. The win was for them.”

  Despite feeling uncomfortable receiving a photo of recovered drug addicts, Harvey took the photo from Carlos’ hands.

  “Look at those people, Bill. Look at them. Those are the men and women that you’ve helped. Those are the lives that you’ve rescued.” Carlos stood from the chair. “Those are the people that are really thanking you.”

  “Wait.”

  “What is it?”

  Harvey drew a long, deep breath. “All these people in this photo—they’re all recovered drug addicts?”

  “That’s right. These are the people that have graduated in the last group; the recovery group. All of these people have been clean for at least one year.”

  Harvey stared at the picture, long and hard, his head spinning.

  “What is it, Bill?” Carlos leaned forward as Harvey stared at the picture.

  “That man in the top left corner.”

  “Yes? Do you know him?”

  A smile drifted across Harvey’s face. “Yes, Carlos, I do.”

  “An old friend?”

  “That man is more than a friend.” Bill Harvey’s eyes filled with tears. “Carlos, that man is my brother.”

  THE End

  FIRE AND

  JUSTICE

  BILL HARVEY

  BOOK 2

  PETER O’MAHONEY

  This story is dedicated to all the wonderful and interesting people that provide the fuel for this work of fiction.

  Chapter 1

  Harry Jones was well aware that his days were numbered.

  A serial killer had been picking off homeless men in Downtown Los Angeles at an alarming rate over the past twelve months. But despite the cold-blooded killings, despite the bodies piling up, there was no media outrage. There was no prime-time TV report. There was barely a police r
esponse.

  The death of these men, Harry’s friends, hardly rated a mention.

  They were Los Angeles’ forgotten people; the dirt and scum that didn’t matter.

  A death here or there meant that the streets were cleaner. Safer.

  But amongst the homeless community, the rumors spread.

  It’s Batman, they said. A gang, maybe. A former army general that had a hunger for blood. The stories grew and grew. As a former cop, a detective, Harry Jones knew what this meant.

  It meant trouble.

  He couldn’t go back to the department and ask for help after what he did. After what the alcohol did to him. They would march him straight back out the doors, or worse yet, lock him up.

  Harry had tried to get sober. He had tried rehab. He had tried to start again.

  The men and women at the Wells Community Center for Mental Health tried to help him, but he couldn’t accept what he did. Alcohol was the only thing that numbed the pain of his mistakes.

  He rested in his usual spot, down a dark alley in a forgotten corner of Skid Row.

  He tried to sleep, or hopefully just pass out from the cheap vodka.

  As he laid against the dirty wall, away from the puddle between the overfilled trash cans, he felt the first boot.

  A quick kick to the stomach.

  It woke him up. Startled him.

  Dazed, he looked up at the shadow.

  It kicked him again.

  He mumbled and then climbed to his feet.

  The shadow didn’t run. It wasn’t scared. It only waited for Harry to defend himself.

  Harry Jones did just that. He swung at the shadow, but it easily dodged his attack.