When Dad and his bulging Speedos were out of sight, Willie walked up.
“You all save me any pizza?”
“Sure did,” I replied. “Three slices in that box over there. Anything going on in the club?”
“Nope. Pretty quiet. Some guy went in de locker room wit’ a little kid. Heard him call the kid, ‘Forest’. Wot kind of dad names dere kid Forest?”
Jerry could spot a straight line from a mile away.
“I certainly hope they never take him into the woods. If he got lost they would never find Forest for the trees.”
Willie looked at him in disgust. “Man, you is jus’ sick!”
Jerry never missed a beat. “Why thank you very little.”
I noticed that the Professor was looking a little queasy.
“Are you all right?”
“Just a bit too much grease on top of all that exercise. I have some antacid tablets in my locker. I’ll be okay.”
I watched as my little gang of health club misfits headed off for an afternoon of surveillance. I had heard veteran officers talk about doing police work ‘by the book’. I doubted that our little operation was anywhere near that book.
I found a spot just outside the men’s locker room and was pretending do some curls with a three-pound dumbbell when the Professor emerged.
“Walt, it seems that my locker has been burgled. My wallet is missing.”
“Was there anyone in there?”
“Just the man with the little boy.”
About that time, the man and the kid came out of the locker room, and just like the day before, I heard the man say, “You go over to Mommy, so I can work out.”
The boy was carrying the same Spiderman gym bag.
He waved to his mom and headed across the room to join her.
“No! Who would suspect a three year old boy?” I thought. “Exactly! Who would suspect a three year old boy?”
The perfect cover!
The lad had to pass right by me on the way to his mom. I had a dilemma. If I stopped the kid and I was wrong, I could see a lawsuit in my future. If I let him go, the three of them might get away with another heist. I opted for the middle ground.
“Hi son,” I said as he approached. “That’s really a cool gym bag. I really love Spiderman. Could I take a look at it?”
He stopped and gave me a bewildered look. It occurred to me that he might not have known what ‘cool’ meant.
“My dad told me never to talk to strange men.”
“Your dad was absolutely right, but I’d really like to take a look at your bag.”
Instead of handing it over, he rared back and kicked me right on the bony part of my shin.
I winced and made a grab for him, but he took off toward his mother.
I heard his dad yelling, “Run, Forest! Run!”
I limped after him, shouting, “It’s them! It’s them!”
It wasn’t very creative, but it got the attention of my cohorts.
By this time, the kid had reached his mom. She grabbed the bag and ran in one direction and the kid took off in another. It looked like they had rehearsed their getaway plan. I noticed that the dad had headed toward the pool and was probably going for the emergency exit at the far end.
Ox was right behind him and closing fast. The guy stopped, picked up one of those medicine balls and hurled it at Ox. The big guy put up his hands, but just a second too late. The heavy ball hit him right in his gut that was filled with pizza and wings.
I heard the ‘Whooof’ as the air left his body and my friend collapsed in a heap.
Dad had witnessed the whole affair through the glass that separated the exercise room from the pool. He had correctly surmised that the perp was headed for the emergency exit.
I watched in amazement as the old guy grabbed one of those lifesaving rings attached to a long rope that they throw to people that have fallen overboard.
He swung the thing in circles over his head, and just as the perp past by, gave the thing a fling.
It landed in front of the fleeing man. His feet tangled in the rope and his momentum took him forward right on his face. Dad was on him in an instant and wrapped the rope around the guy’s ankles.
Just before my attention was diverted to the mother, I saw Bernice kick the guy in the ribs.
The mom had headed for the front entrance, but stopped short when she saw the menacing face of the big woman in spandex leotards blocking her way.
She reversed her course and was heading toward the pool when a wiry little black man and the reincarnation of Mr. Peepers blocked that route.
She headed to the women’s locker room. I knew that if it was like the men’s side, there was another door from the showers to the pool area.
Mary was right on her tail. As she followed the woman inside, I heard her yell, “I got this!”
A moment later, I heard the woman’s voice screaming, “Get off me, you crazy old bitch!”
Two down and one to go.
I looked around and saw the boy crouching behind one of the machines.
I tried to approach him in a non-threatening way, but I’m sure after seeing his parents brutalized by a gang of old people, he was not in a trusting mood.
He took off and zigzagged in and around the treadmills, bikes and rowing machines.
I would be on one side, with him on the other. I would go one way and he would go the opposite. The little guy was just too quick and slippery. I was getting winded and I could feel the pepperoni creeping up in my throat.
We were at a standoff on either side of a stationary bike. I could see him reading my eyes, ready to take off as soon as I made my move.
An idea popped into my head. I had tried it once with an adult and wound up flat on my back. I didn’t think that the kid could whip me, so what did I have to loose?
I pointed to the boy’s shoes and with all of the parental caring I could muster, said, “Forest, be careful. Your shoe’s untied. You might fall and hurt yourself.”
Like most kids that have been warned repeatedly by parents to do this or that, he dutifully checked out his shoelaces.
That one moment was just enough for me to reach around the bike and grab him by the collar.
Apparently, some diversions are age specific.
Once the fitness center thieves were safely on their way downtown in the paddy wagon, our little group gathered in a victory huddle.
“What a day!” Jerry said. “Who would have ever figured that a three year old could be part of a gang?”
I think the Professor summed it up the best.
“Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get!”
CHAPTER 3
“So how do we play this?” Frank asked. “We know who the bad guy is and we know where he lives. What’s our next move?”
“I know one thing for sure,” Ernie replied. “We need help. Those Mexican drug thugs are mean dudes. I remember reading about that shoot-out on the riverfront. They wore Kevlar vests and carried automatic rifles. They even had a grenade launcher. I think we have to get the police involved.”
“So how do we do that without spilling the beans about Paddy’s confessional?” Frank asked. “Any thoughts, Padre?”
“I’ve been kicking an idea around,” the old priest replied, rubbing his chin. “Everything would have to work out just perfect, but it would be somewhere to start.”
“Then let’s hear it. I’m ready to go.”
“Let’s start with a 911 call saying there has been a home invasion at Corazon’s address. The cops will respond to take a look ---.”
“Hold it right there, Paddy,” Frank said. “That’s a gated property and those goons walking the grounds aren’t going to let a couple of cops waltz right in.”
“You’re exactly right, Frank. This is the part where we hope they’ve sent some officers that have some street smarts. Any cop worth his salt would be suspicious and try to determine who placed the bogus call.”
“I’m still not getting it.”
“The 911 operator has a record of the location where the call was placed. If we have a couple of sharp cops, they will check out that location and try to find the caller.”
“That’s a mighty big ‘if’!” Frank replied skeptically. “So let’s say they do follow up. How does that help us?”
“We’ll use a public pay phone. When they show up, we’ll have a letter waiting for them, tipping them off to what we know. They’ll have the information we have, but won’t be able to actually question us.”
“I don’t know. It’s pretty thin.”
“Do you have a better idea?” Ernie asked.
“Well ---- no.”
“Then let’s get started on that letter.”
I could see that Ox was moving quite gingerly as we climbed into our cruiser.
“Am I detecting a case of fitness club withdrawal?”
“I had always heard that those places were supposed to make you healthy, but after two days on those machines, getting gassed by that Neanderthal and hit in the gut with a medicine ball, I’m beginning to have second thoughts.”
“Yeah, except for Mary’s chafed thighs, you probably got the worst of the ordeal.”
“At least the Captain was happy.”
“He sure was. He even offered to reimburse me the sixty bucks that I shelled out for the pizza.”
We were headed south on Broadway and had just passed Westport Road when the radio came to life.
“Car 54, what’s your 20?”
Ox keyed the mike. “We’re just north of the Plaza on Broadway.”
“We just received a 911 call that a home invasion is in progress at 685 Sunset Drive. Please respond.”
“Roger that. We’re on our way.”
“Sunset Drive!” I said. “That’s a pretty swanky neighborhood. Lots of high-priced homes and old money. Real upper crust.”
We took Broadway to Ward Parkway, then wound our way through exclusive Sunset Hills until we came to the address.
The number on the stone pillar said 685, but the driveway was blocked by a heavy-duty iron gate. I noticed a security camera mounted on the top of the spiked iron fence.
“Geez,” Ox said. “That thing could stop a tank!”
Before we had even closed our car doors, a Hispanic man was standing at the gate.
Ox nodded to the fellow. “I’m Officer George Wilson and this is my partner, Walt Williams. We had a report of ---.”
The man cut him off. “Lo siento. No hablo Ingles. Un momento. CARLOS! La policia!”
A few moments later, a slick-haired man appeared that looked like a young Ricardo Montalban.
“Yes, may I help you?”
Ox went through his introduction a second time. “I’m Officer George Wilson and this is my partner, Walt Williams. We had a report of a home invasion in progress.”
The man looked puzzled. “There must be some mistake. There has been no home invasion here. No one has made a call to the authorities.”
“This is 685 Sunset Drive, isn’t it?” Ox said looking at the number on the stone post.
“It is, but I assure you that no one has called.” The man pointed to the fence and the camera. “As you can see, we are quite security conscious here.”
“As long as we’re here, do you mind if we come in and take a quick look around?”
“Actually, I do. Mr. Corazon is involved in a business conference and has given strict instructions that he is not to be disturbed. I’m sure you understand.”
Ox could see that he was being given the brush.
“We won’t bother anyone inside. We’d just like to take a look at the grounds and the exterior of the house.”
You could almost see the fire in Carlos’ eyes, but it lasted just a moment.
“Look, officer, I don’t mean to be rude, but no one here asked for help. I’m afraid that if you want to come inside this gate you’ll need a warrant. Good day!”
With that, he turned and walked away.
“So much for citizen cooperation,” I said as we walked back to the cruiser.
Once inside, I noticed that the ‘no Ingles’ guy hadn’t moved a muscle and was watching our every move.
“Something about this whole thing just doesn’t smell right,” I said.
“You got that right, partner. Did you happen to notice the bulges under those guy’s jackets? They were packing for sure.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did notice, and I was afraid that if you provoked that Carlos guy one more time, he might show us his. If they didn’t make the 911 call, then who did?”
“Let’s find out,” Ox said, picking up the mike. “This is car 54. Shirley, are you there?”
“Go ahead, Ox.”
“We responded to your home invasion on Sunset Drive, but we were told quite emphatically that there was no problem and no one there had placed the call. Can you do a trace for us?”
“Sure thing. Hold on.”
We could hear tapping on computer keys.
“Well I’ll be damned. They were telling the truth. The call originated from a pay phone. Let me get the location ---- here it is. It came from the Raphael Hotel at 325 Ward Parkway. Of course the guy hung up before I could get a name.”
“Thanks, Shirley. We’re going to check it out.”
“A pay phone,” I said, surprised. “Not many of those around anymore.”
“Probably in the lobby of the Raphael. That’s one swanky place. Let’s go see what we can find.”
Frank and Paddy were parked a block away from the Sunset Drive estate and watched as the beat up old cruiser pulled into the drive.
Frank gave a disgusted grunt when he saw an old gray-headed cop and his portly partner step out of the car.
“Oh great! For our plan to work we need a couple of sharp cops and they send us Andy Griffith and Barney Fife.”
“So who were you expecting? Harry Callahan?” Paddy replied. “Let’s give them a chance.”
They watched as the two officers spoke through the gate to Corazon’s lieutenant.
When the officers turned and headed back to the cruiser, Frank hit the steering wheel with his fist. “I knew they wouldn’t get in!”
“Calm down, Frank. We didn’t expect them to, now did we?”
“No, I guess not, but I was hoping.”
“Look,” Paddy said. “The big one’s on the radio. Maybe this is going to work after all.”
They watched the cruiser pull out of the driveway and head back to Ward Parkway.
“Okay, Frank. Stay with them, but not too close. I’ll get Ernie on the line and if they pull into the Raphael, he can plant the letter.”
“Ernie? Paddy here. They’re headed your way, so get ready. If they turn into the hotel, I’ll let you know.”
Moments later, the cruiser pulled into the circular driveway of the Raphael.
“Okay, Ernie. They’re here! Do your thing!”
Paddy turned to his friend. “See Frank. A little faith can go a long way.”
“Wow! This place is gorgeous!” Ox said as we pulled into the drive of the Raphael.
“It used to be the Villa Serena Apartments. It was converted to a hotel in 1975. I read that Travel and Leisure voted it as one of the world’s best hotels. I had an out-of-town client stay here once. This definitely isn’t your Motel 6.”
We entered and approached a very proper attendant at the front desk.
“May I help you gentlemen?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Could you direct us to your pay phone?”
He pointed across the lobby. “It’s down that hall --- on the wall between the two lavatories.”
We followed his directions and found an envelope perched on top of the phone. It was addressed to the Kansas City Police Department.
“Well, this is definitely a new one,” Ox said picking up the envelope. “What do you think we should do with it?”
“The last time I looked,” I replied, “we
were the Kansas City Police Department. I think we should open it.”
Ox shrugged, gently pried open the flap and pulled out a letter.
I looked over his shoulder and we read together.
To the Kansas City Police Department,
We realize that this is an unconventional way to communicate, but due to issues of confidentiality, we felt that this was the only way to share the information we have without endangering the lives of innocent people.
The owner of the property on Sunset Drive is Hector Corazon.
We have been given information that he is the Kansas City connection to a drug cartel operating out of Matamoros, Mexico.
A reliable source has told us that Corazon is recruiting young women, particularly Hispanic, to travel to Mexico where they have breast implants filled with pure cocaine. Upon their return, the implants are surgically removed.
Although we can offer no proof, there is reason to believe that some of the young women that were recruited may have met with foul play.
If it is not already underway, we hope that this information might lead to an investigation of this blight in our beautiful city.
Sincerely,
Concerned Citizens.
Ox gave a low whistle. “This is way above our pay grade, partner. We’d better take this to the Captain.”
On our way out, we stopped at the front desk.
“Pardon me,” I said. “By any chance did you see anyone around the pay phone in the last hour?”
“Sorry, officer, but I’ve been attending to the needs of our guests. I hardly have time to monitor who’s coming and going from our lavatories.”
“Yeah, I figured as much. Thanks anyway.”
As soon as the Captain read the letter, he summoned Sergeant Rocky Winkler of the Drug Enforcement Unit.
Ox and I had worked with Winkler a few months ago at the riverfront shoot-out. He remembered me right away since I was the guy that had almost been blown to smithereens by one of the cartel’s grenade launchers.
“Officer Williams. Ever heard the expression, ‘Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades’?”
[Lady Justice 12] - Lady Justice and the Class Reunion Page 4
