“Okay, Polecat! Hurry and get dressed. We don’t want to be late.”
I was hoping that she had forgotten the class reunion committee meeting, but no such luck. Maggie seemed intent on delving into my high school history and meeting the classmates of my youth.
“I’ve been studying your senior yearbook. It appears that you had quite a colorful class.”
That was an understatement.
I was in my BVD’s when she stuck the yearbook under my nose.
“Show me which girls you dated.”
“I didn’t really date all that much.”
“Don’t feed me that bull, Walt Williams! Beta Club president! Cute flattop! Come on!”
“Most of the girls were hung up on the jocks. I was a nerd.”
“Walt!”
“Okay! Hand me the book.”
I thumbed through the pages.
“Let’s see --- Irma Turnbull --- Gladys Finch --- Martha Woodstock --- Lorena Jenkins.”
“I knew it. You weren’t exactly a monk, were you?”
“I think this is the part where I plead the fifth.”
“Oh, Walt! I’m not jealous --- just curious. I just want to know more about the guy I’m spending the rest of my life with.”
Thankfully, by that time, I was dressed and it was time to go.
We walked into the Pancake House and a waitress directed us to a private room in the back.
I looked around the room and turned to Maggie.
“There must be another room somewhere. This couldn’t be my class. These people are all old.”
Maggie just grinned. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? Gray hair, droopy eyelids, crow’s feet.”
I was about to protest when an old woman with a cane hobbled up.
“Walt Williams! I’m so glad you came.”
I was at a total loss.
“It’s me, Wanda --- Wanda Pringle --- well, it’s Bodenhammer now.”
My last memory of Wanda was of her spiking the ball on the girl’s volleyball team.
She grabbed me by the arm and pushed me into the room. “Look everyone! It’s Walt!”
People turned and waved, and I swear, I didn’t recognize a single one.
A chubby gal with bright red, obviously dyed hair, came over and put her arm around my waist.
“Hi Walt. Don’t recognize me, do you?”
I smiled and shrugged.
“Gladys --- Gladys Finch.” She gave Maggie the once-over.
Maggie jumped right in. “I’m Maggie, Walt’s wife. Nice to meet you Gladys.”
I noticed that she emphasized the ‘wife’ part.
“So you’re the one that finally landed Polk’s most eligible bachelor. Congratulations!” Then she turned back to me. “Remember that night after the homecoming game ---?”
Thankfully, at that moment, Wanda called the meeting to order.
“Let’s all take our seats. We have a lot to discuss.”
As we sat down, Maggie whispered in my ear, “I can’t wait to hear about the homecoming game.”
This reunion thing was just beginning and I was already regretting it.
Wanda was always a rah-rah gal. She had been one of the spark plugs of the Pep Club. It was obvious from the way she took charge of the meeting that her physical impairments hadn’t dampened her enthusiasm a bit.
She opened a big loose-leaf notebook and started rattling off the various committees that would be needed to pull off the reunion. Those of us attending were supposed to volunteer our time and talents to one or more of the committees.
If there had been any way that I could have opted out for a root canal instead, I probably would have done it.
I shuddered when one of the first committees mentioned was ‘decorating’. I was Junior Class President, and it was the responsibility of the Junior Class to decorate the gymnasium for the Junior-Senior Prom. I strung enough crepe paper that week to last a lifetime.
I sat as quietly and unobtrusively as possible as the committees were named. Nothing she had mentioned was even remotely within my area of expertise.
Finally, she said, “We have one more job. Over the fifty years we have lost track of many of our classmates. We need someone to try to track down as many as possible.”
“Hmmm, missing persons! Right up my alley --- and if I couldn’t find somebody, who would really know?”
I raised my hand. “I’ll take that!”
“Thank you, Walt. Oh, and I remember what a fantastic job you did with the Junior-Senior Prom. I’ll bet you’d love to help out the decorating committee!”
I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.
Everyone was looking at me expectantly.
“Uhhh --- sure. Why not?”
After the meeting, Benny Beemer tapped me on the shoulder.
“Hey, Walt. Plant any trees lately?”
Benny was a football jock and I always suspected he had a hand in cutting down the Beta tree.
“No, Benny. Cut anything down lately?”
He smirked and walked off.
I could see that my fifty-year class reunion was going to be a real doozey!
Frank, Ernie and Paddy had gathered around the table in Ernie’s apartment.
“We know that the two cops checked out the warehouse the day we left them the note because we followed them, but so far, nothing’s come from it,” Frank said with disgust.
“Remember, Frank,” Ernie said, trying to sooth his friend, “these things take time. They probably have the place under surveillance and are looking for evidence.”
“Well I’m tired of sitting around waiting for something to happen. I think it’s time we took a more active part in this thing.”
“Oh, really?” Paddy asked. “And just what would you have us do? Maybe storm the warehouse?”
“Sarcasm, Padre? Did you learn that in divinity school? Actually, I think we should do some surveillance of our own. We’re always hearing about the shortage of manpower in the police department. I’ll bet they don’t have enough men to watch the place 24/7, but we could.”
“Do you realize what you’re saying?” Ernie said in disbelief. “That’s three eight-hour shifts! One of them all night long!”
“So what have we got to do that’s more important? Play bingo with Minnie Potter? And besides, none of us sleep through the night anyway. I’ve seen your light on at three in the morning, Ernie.”
“What do you expect to accomplish?” Paddy asked.
“If that warehouse is really where the mules are unloading their drugs, we have to get proof --- see who’s coming and going --- get license plates --- anything to get the cops off dead center. I figure one of us could do eight to four, the next one four to midnight and the last one midnight to eight. I’ll even volunteer for the midnight to eight.”
“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” Ernie asked.
“You bet I am. When I think about what Paddy said those goons are doing to those poor girls, it makes my blood boil. We may be old and worn out, but we’re not dead yet. I want to do something to make a difference before I go.”
Paddy looked at Ernie. “I’m in. What about you?”
“I’ll take the first shift,” Ernie said. “Paddy, if you still have any influence with the Man Upstairs, you might put in a good word for us. We’re going to need it.”
At midnight, Frank tapped Ernie on the shoulder.
“Holy Crap!” Ernie exclaimed. “Don’t sneak up on a guy like that!”
“Sorry! Anything going on?”
“A produce truck unloaded some crates about six o’clock, but it’s been quiet as a mouse since then.”
“Go home and get some shut-eye. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
As Frank sat in the darkness, he felt his senses come alive. Not far away, he heard the whistle of a train and felt the ground vibrate as it carried its load to some distant destination.
When the train had passed, he heard something rustling a few
feet away. He clicked on his flashlight and the beam reflected in the eyes of a rat that had been foraging for scraps of food. He watched as the rodent lifted its head, sniffed the air and twitched his whiskers. Sensing that something wasn’t quite right, it turned and scurried away.
Just past three in the morning, Frank saw headlights approaching. He crouched low and watched as three men climbed out of a panel van.
Two of the men opened the rear door of the van while the third man opened the door to the warehouse.
The two men pulled something long and dark out of the van and carried it to the warehouse. In the light that was streaming through the door, Frank recognized what was being carried --- a body bag.
Once inside, the door was closed and Frank was once again surrounded by darkness.
“This is exactly what we’ve been looking for!” Frank thought. “I’ve got to get in there and see what’s going on!”
Frank slipped from his hiding place and approached the warehouse door. He placed his ear against the door and heard voices.
“Can’t go in here,” he thought. “Must be another way in.”
He followed the wall to another door he had seen fifty feet from the one that the men had entered.
He placed his ear against the door, but heard nothing.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lock-pick set.
“Thirty-five years as proprietor of Frank’s Lock and Key Service has finally paid off,” he thought, smiling.
He heard the ‘click’ as the lock snapped open.
Quietly, he opened the door and peered in. The door had opened into a hall. At the far end, he saw lights burning. He slipped in and tiptoed to a window that opened into the lighted room.
He saw the three men gathered around the body bag that had been placed on a gurney. One of the men unzipped the bag revealing the body of a young man.
A second man ripped open the shirt of the dead man while the third retrieved a scalpel from a set of surgical tools on a nearby shelf.
Frank watched in horror as the man with the scalpel sliced open the abdomen of the corpse. The other two men spread open the man’s stomach while the third one removed bags of white powder and placed them in a tray.
When they had finished, they zipped up the bag and carried it to a trash dumpster located just inside the warehouse by an overhead door.
The bags that had been removed from the mule were washed and placed in a satchel.
When it was apparent that they were finished with their grisly work, Frank retraced his steps, slipped out the door and returned to his hiding place.
A few moments later, the three men emerged from the warehouse carrying the satchel and climbed into the van.
Stunned, Frank sat in silent shock as he watched the taillights of the van disappear in the distance.
When he had regained his composure, he tried to think about what to do next. He was certain that the van was on its way to the Sunset Drive address to deliver the cocaine to Hector Corazon. Nothing he could do about that.
There was still a desecrated body in that warehouse. If he called the cops, would they come? They couldn’t enter without a search warrant and that wouldn’t happen until morning.
As he was contemplating his next move, another set of headlights came into view.
A huge garbage truck pulled up to the overhead door, two men got out of the cab and raised the door.
They pushed the dumpster into the street and attached it to the big pneumatic arms on the front of the truck.
Frank watched as the contents of the dumpster spilled into the gaping hole in the truck. One man pushed the empty dumpster back into the warehouse while the other pulled the lever that compacted the trash.
Frank made a quick decision. He ran to his car and pulled into the street behind the big truck.
He followed it across town to the landfill and watched through the chain link fence as the contents were spewed into the mound of trash waiting to be covered by a gigantic bulldozer.
He had seen enough. If this information didn’t get the cops to act, nothing would!
CHAPTER 7
“What about another letter?” Ernie said, as the three friends huddled together in the early morning light.
“No time!” Frank said emphatically. “That body has already been in the landfill an hour. No telling how much more trash has been piled on top of it and eventually they compact everything and cap it with dirt. We have actual evidence. I think it’s time to talk to the cops.”
“I agree,” Paddy said. “What Frank saw trumps anything I ever heard in confessional. I think we can tell them what we know without violating any confidences.”
“Then let’s do it!” Ernie said, looking at his watch. “Maybe we can get to the police station before they hit the streets.”
Squad meeting had just concluded and we were gathering our gear from our lockers when Dooley stuck his head in the door.
“Hey, Batman and Robin! There’s three old dudes in the lobby that want to talk to the cops that drive car 54. That’s you isn’t it?”
Ox nodded. “What do they want? We were just on our way out.”
“Hey, I’m not your secretary. Ask them yourself. They said something about a couple of letters.”
That got Ox’s attention. “Thanks, Dooley. We’ll take it from here.”
“If these guys are the real thing,” I said, “we’d better get the Captain involved. You go meet them and I’ll get the Captain.”
The Captain got Rocky Winkler on the horn and we were all waiting in the Captain’s office when Ox entered with the three old gentlemen.
“Captain, I’d like you to meet Frank Pollard, Earnest Harding and Father Patrick O’Brian. These are the guys that have been sending us love notes.”
While the introductions were being made, I started putting the pieces of the puzzle together.
“You’ve made some pretty strong accusations,” the Captain said. “I’d like to know where you came by the information.”
“Let me take a crack at that,” I said. “Father O’Brian, until a few months ago, you were at the Sacred Heart Guadelupe Church. Am I right?”
He nodded.
“Like Father Sebastian, your replacement, you must have heard some pretty disturbing things in confessional that you could not share.”
He nodded again.
“So rather than break the confidence of the confessional, you gave us just enough information to put us onto this Corazon character and hoped that we’d take it from there.”
“If that’s all true, what brings you here this morning?” the Captain asked. “What’s changed?”
“What’s changed,” Father O’Brian replied, “is that we now have concrete evidence to back up what was in those letters and we can give it to you without violating the confessional. Tell them Frank.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Frank Pollard shared the incredible story of how these old guys had been shadowing the cartel and the grisly spectacle that he had just witnessed.
“One of the bags must have busted in the mule’s stomach,” Winkler said. “They usually pump them full of laxatives and let nature take its course.” He turned to Frank. “You’re sure that the body is in the landfill?”
“Absolutely! I followed the truck from the warehouse to the Southeast Landfill on Indiana and watched them dump their load.”
“Captain Short,” Winkler said, “wouldn’t you agree that with this information we have enough to get a search warrant for that warehouse?”
The Captain nodded.
“Good! Then if you’ll get the paperwork started for the warrant, I’ll take some men to the landfill and see if we can find that body bag. Walt, Ox, why don’t you get a written statement and contact information from these gentlemen?”
“Sure thing,” Ox replied.
Then Winkler turned to the three octogenarians. “Gentlemen, we really appreciate what you have done to this point and the information you have given us. Let us h
andle it from here. As you have seen, these men are extremely dangerous. We don’t want you putting yourselves in any further danger. Understand?”
“I guess you’re telling us to back off!” Frank said, with disgust.
“Exactly! When we are finally ready to make a move on these guys, we don’t want any civilians in harm’s way.”
“Or in your way!” Frank replied, sarcastically.
“Yes, that too. I’m glad you understand. Well let’s get to it.”
We led the three to a conference room, took their statement and their contact information at the Whispering Hills Retirement Village.
When we were finished, Frank asked, “So what happens now?”
“That’s up to Sergeant Winkler,” Ox replied. “He’s in charge of the drug task force. He’s a good man. He’ll handle it from here.”
“I understand that he wants us out of the way,” Paddy said, “but we have a big stake in this thing. Will you promise to let us know what’s happening --- to keep us informed?”
“We’ll do the best we can. We’re just a couple of grunts. Sometimes we don’t know everything that’s going on ourselves, but we’ll try. I have your numbers.”
“We appreciate it,” Ernie said as they left the room.
When they were out of earshot, I said, “Three bumbling guys taking on a Mexican bandito. Reminds me of The Three Amigos.”
“The three what?” Ox asked.
“You’ve never seen the movie?”
“What movie?”
“Never mind!”
It was Saturday morning and I was looking forward to a day off.
Maggie had a listing appointment scheduled for early afternoon and when she was finished with that, I had been informed that she was planning to cash in on one of the dinners out that I owed her for the Burrito Bandito debacle.
I had just polished off my coffee and Wheaties, the Breakfast of Champions, and was heading out to the front sidewalk to pick up the morning paper.
As luck would have it, Jerry collared me before I could get back to my apartment.
“Walt, what are you doing this morning?”
[Lady Justice 12] - Lady Justice and the Class Reunion Page 7
