I pulled up in front of my building and honked. Willie came out decked out in a black suit and red tie. I don’t think I’d ever seen Willie in anything but jeans and a t-shirt. With his silver hair and fancy duds, I thought maybe I’d picked up Sidney Poitier by mistake.
He climbed in the front seat, and I said, “My, you’re really looking dapper today.”
“Well, you got to have proper respect fo’ de dead,” he said. “And besides, my johnson’s all healed up from dat damn coffee, and I was goin’ to see Emma after.”
Nothing like planning ahead.
We picked up Mary next. She came out in her best flowered muumuu and had a little pillbox hat on her head.
High fashion.
She climbed in the backseat, and we were off to the funeral home.
As expected, there was a large crowd. The case had drawn a lot of publicity, and those with morbid curiosity probably outnumbered the mourners.
We found a seat and the service began. Everything went as expected. The minister comforted the family, and in his sermon he spoke of the promise of eternal life and how Jesus had given His life so that we might live. Then a beautiful recording of In My Father’s House Are Many Mansions came over the loudspeakers.
Willie leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Mr. Walt, what do you think happens to us when we die?”
“I really don’t have a clue,” I said. “But I’d like to think there’s something more for us to look forward to.”
“Mr. Walt,” he whispered, “you know I done some really bad stuff in my life.” I nodded, and he continued. “Do you s’pose de Big Guy is gonna hold dat against me?”
“Willie, do you believe in heaven and hell?”
“Well sho,” he said. “I’se afraid not to.”
“You can’t just take part of it,” I said. “It’s a whole package. If you believe in heaven and hell, then you have to believe in the Big Guy who set it all up to begin with. They tell us He’s a loving and forgiving God who has mercy on those who have done bad things but have stopped doing them and turned their life around.”
Willie sat quietly for a moment; then he said, “Thank you, Mr. Walt.” He saw me looking at him and tried to brush away the tear that rolled down his wrinkled cheek without me seeing it.
I’ve never met a man with a bigger heart than Willie Duncan, and if there is truly justice in the afterlife, Willie will be okay.
The service ended, and one by one the mourners filed by the open casket to pay their last respects. As the last person stepped away from the casket, Clark Grissom appeared out of nowhere. A gasp went up from the assembled crowd.
Clark approached the casket with a rose in one hand and a small package in the other. He laid the rose on the casket and slid the package in beside the body and stepped away.
The funeral director immediately stepped up and closed the lid to the casket, as he had been instructed by the police to do.
When the Russians dug up the casket they were going to be really disappointed. They didn’t know Grissom had been working with the cops. The real plates were in custody, and the package contained a brick.
Officers came forward to take Grissom into custody and escorted him away.
The funeral director then announced that the service would reconvene at graveside and called for the pallbearers to come forward. They picked up the closed casket and carried it to the waiting hearse.
As is customary, the funeral procession was led by motorcycle officers whose job was to clear traffic. Then came the hearse with the coffin, followed by the family car, and finally the long line of cars carrying the mourners.
The funeral procession wound slowly through town, and all was going as planned. As we approached a major intersection, the motorcycles sped ahead to block traffic from the crossing lanes. But a block before reaching the intersection, a large cement truck pulled from a side street and stopped in front of the hearse, effectively blocking it from the officers ahead.
Two men jumped from the cement truck, pulled the driver of the hearse out of the vehicle, climbed in, made a u-turn, and sped away in the opposite direction of the procession.
Damn! The Russians had been one step ahead of us. Instead of waiting to unearth the buried coffin, they had hijacked it right out from under our noses. Why can’t anyone follow a script?
Willie, Mary, and I were a few cars behind the hearse. I pulled out of the procession, did a u-turn, and took off after the Russians. It’s not too difficult to follow a hearse. It doesn’t exactly blend in with the other vehicles. When other drivers see a hearse, they will typically pull to the side to let it pass.
We were keeping it in view until we approached an intersection where a large yellow school bus pulled out from a side street. I laid on my horn, which was a mistake, as it caused the driver to slam on his brakes right in the middle of the intersection. By the time we had sorted everything out and the bus pulled away, the hearse was nowhere in sight.
“I got me an idea,” Willie said and pulled out his cell phone. He put it on speaker and hit a speed dial number. A woman answered.
“Yo, Maxine, dis is Willie. You still working de corner of Independence and Prospect?”
“Sho nuff,” she replied.
“A big ole black hearse is gonna be coming yo’ way. Y’all seen it?”
“Sho did. Done passed by here jus’ a few minutes ago.”
“Thanks, Maxine,” Willie said. “Oh, is Irene still working Independence and Benton?”
“Sho is.”
Willie hung up and pressed the next speed dial, and another woman answered.
“Yo, Irene, Willie here. You see a big ole hearse come by your corner?”
“He jus’ passed,” Irene replied. “Dat big ole thing turned into dat ole abandoned Sears warehouse buildin’. I thought dat was kinda weird, you know, but weird stuff’s happenin’ on Independence Avenue all de time.”
Willie thanked her, and we headed for the warehouse.
When Willie dies, I want his cell phone. Just think how much I could get for a phone with a stable of hookers on speed dial.
We pulled into the dock area of the old warehouse. The hearse was not in sight. They had probably pulled it inside of the building.
We parked and went to the entrance door, and of course it was locked. There was a small window by the door, and I looked around for something to break the window. Mary said, “Hold on, Walt,” and went back to the car. She returned with her Hillrich and Bradsby. “I don’t go nowhere without my bat. Especially if I think there may be scumbags around.”
Like the Boy Scouts, Mary’s motto is ‘be prepared’.
I broke the window, reached in, and opened the door. In the far corner of the big warehouse, we saw the hearse. On the dock was the empty casket and Blanchard’s body.
“Dey done took him outta de coffin,” Willie whispered. “Dat jus ain’t right.”
I turned to Mary. “You crouch down right here behind the door,” I said. “These are bad guys with big guns, and I don’t want you getting hurt. If you move a muscle from here, I’ll have to fire you.”
“Okay, okay, I got the picture,” she replied reluctantly.
Willie and I slowly crept to the dock and open casket. No one was in sight. Then we saw a door that led to an inner office. The Russians were probably there opening their brick. They were really going to be pissed.
We heard footsteps coming from within the building. I frantically looked around for a place for us to hide, but there was nowhere to go.
“Willie,” I whispered, “quick, get in the casket!”
“Hell no! I ain’t getting in no casket.”
“Would you rather get shot and be put in one for real?”
“You got a point,” he murmured and climbed in.
I slid behind the door and waited for the Russian to emerge.
Just as he came through the door from the office, the outer door opened, and the silhouette of a large man with a gun appeared. They must have
spotted my car, and the Russian circled around to check it out.
“Boris,” he shouted, “the car is empty and the window is broken. They must be inside.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, I saw Mary spring from behind the door, and with a swing that Mickey Mantle would have envied, she whacked the Russian in the back of the knees. He crumpled to the ground, and the next sound was a sickening thump as Mary landed a blow on his head.
Boris moved to the edge of the dock next to the casket, lifted his AK-47, and aimed it at Mary. I couldn’t let Mary die.
I stepped from behind the door. “Boris, it’s all over. The police are on the way. Why don’t you put down the gun?”
“It’s a long way from over,” Boris snarled. “You’re going to pay for what you have done.” He lifted the rifle, and I thought my law enforcement career was about to end.
Just then, Willie rose up from the casket right beside the Russian.
“Don’ you dare hurt my friend, you Russie scumbag!”
Now I don’t care how tough you may be, the sight of someone rising up from inside a casket is bound to unnerve you. It distracted the horrified Russian just long enough for me to make a midsection tackle just as I remembered from my one day at football practice.
The Russian stumbled backward, tripped on the casket, and went flying off the dock, landing with a whuff on the concrete floor below.
By this time Mary had joined us, and as she stood above the Russian with her bat cocked behind her head, I heard her say, “Go ahead, sucker, make my day!”
Sirens wailed in the distance, and soon the warehouse was crawling with police.
The Russians were taken into custody, and their testimony along with that of Clark and Mary Grissom led to the arrest of the leaders of the Russian syndicate.
EPILOGUE
That evening, our little group gathered together again to celebrate our victory. If an outsider looked around the room, all they would see was a group of old, gray, wrinkled people that society had cast aside and put out to pasture.
What I saw was a group of people that age couldn’t conquer. People that were vibrant and alive, people that still had a contribution to make.
I thought of all we had accomplished, but I also thought of all that lay ahead. The world is full of evil and wrongs that need to be made right.
Lady Justice needs all the help she can get.
And I would be willing to bet that from all the resources that are available to her, Lady Justice would take a C.R.A.P. any day!
[Lady Justice 01] - Lady Justice Takes a C.R.A.P. Page 19
