I held up the newspaper, but before I could declare my attentions, he forged ahead.
“If you don’t have anything pressing, would you play Wii with me?”
I had no idea what he was talking about. The last time I had played wee with anyone was in the third grade when some buddies and I wrote our names in the snow.
“You want me to do what?”
“Play Wii! It’s a video game.”
I had seen ads on TV for some of these games, but being an old fart that could barely navigate the complexities of his cell phone, I had dismissed them as technology beyond my comprehension.
“Gee, I don’t know, Jerry,” I said, clutching my paper.
“Please! It’s REALLY fun! I know you’ll like it.”
He gave me his sad puppy eyes and I caved.
“Okay, but just for a little while.”
He led me into his living room and sat me down in front of his TV to which he had connected a box of some sort.
He handed me a steering wheel that had a thing in the middle full of buttons.
“We’re going to play Mario Cart. It’s a race game. I’ll show you how it works.”
For the next fifteen minutes, he explained the intricacies of the steering wheel and the functions of all of the little buttons, then he ran a few races solo to show the game in action.
“Okay, I think you’re ready. I’ll be Mario and you can be Luigi. We race each other and ten other characters.”
We started the game and I had just driven around the first bend when he launched a bomb at me and blew up my car.
“Hey, I thought this was a race?”
“It is, but part of winning is eliminating your opponents.”
I started again, and some big monkey in another car ran over me and squashed me flat.
“That’s Donkey Kong. He’s a mean dude.”
After being repeatedly blown up, run off the road and squashed by Jerry and other assorted creatures, I started getting the hang of it.
Soon, I was doing some bombing and squashing of my own. I learned to press on the accelerator button, crash into the rear end of the guy in front of me and push him into oblivion.
The plastic steering wheel was just like a real steering wheel and I found myself banking into curves, skidding around corners and leaping off ramps.
I looked at my watch and was shocked to see that it was almost noon.
“Hey, we’d better break for lunch.”
“Why don’t we have lunch at Mel’s, then we can stop by Games Galore. They have all kinds of cool stuff.”
He had me at Mel’s Diner.
After a chicken-fried steak with mashed potatoes covered with white cream gravy, we headed to Games Galore.
When we entered, a boy with a serious acne problem greeted us.
“H-H-Hi Jerry.”
My friend was already on a first name basis with the clerk.
“Hi, Warren. This is my friend, Walt. We’re going to look at some of your Wii games.”
“W-W-We just got some new stuff in this morning. L-L-Let me show you.”
For the next ten minutes, Warren demonstrated the new games.
I had noticed a couple of other high school boys playing on a different console.
“What are they playing?” I asked.
“T-T-They’re on X-Box and Play Station Three. They’re into the m-m-more graphic stuff.”
I watched the screen and was appalled to see a character grab another character from behind and slit his throat. Blood spewed out of the severed artery. The victim slumped to the ground and the character was on to his next kill.
“Jesus, Warren! Do kids really play this stuff?”
“T-T-That’s just one game. There’s a d-d-dozen others just like it or worse. It’s our m-m-most popular stuff.”
The phone rang and Warren went to answer it.
While he was on the line, the boys playing the blood and gore game walked up to the counter.
“Hey, pizza face! Get over here and check us out!”
Warren dutifully rang up the sale, but it was obvious the two boys were intent on giving him a hard time.
As they were leaving, two good-looking girls walked in.
One of the jerks shouted back over his shoulder, “Hey, Marcie. Warren is lookin’ for a date this weekend. Are you interested?”
The kid left laughing and Marcie and her friend did the fake finger down the throat gesture.
It was obvious that Warren was mortified.
Jerry tried to smooth things over.
“Hey, Warren. Thanks for helping us out. See you next time.”
When we were back in the car, I said, “How can kids be so cruel?”
“Beats me. I guess they think it’s cool to put other kids down. Are you ready for another race?”
We resumed our Mario Cart warfare and as before, I completely lost track of time. I had just blown Bowser to smithereens and knocked Jerry off the road when my cell phone vibrated.
I looked at my watch.
“Oh, crap! Maggie!”
“Uhhh, hello.”
“Walt, where are you? Did you remember that we have a date?”
“I’m at Jerry’s. Of course I didn’t forget. I’ll be right there.”
I really didn’t forget. I just got so involved in that goofy game, I lost track of time.
I hurriedly showered and dressed and found Maggie pacing the floor.
“What were you two up to?”
“We were Wii-ing together.”
She gave me the ‘I don’t believe what I’m hearing’ look.
“I’ll explain in the car. Let’s go.”
I pulled out into traffic and gave Maggie a sideways glance.
“Where to, my love,” I said, trying to smooth things over. “Anyplace you like. Nothing is too good for my girl.”
“Can it, Walt. You’re in the doghouse and you know it! Hereford House. It’s going to cost you a filet to get back in my good graces --- and what’s with this weeing?”
Just then, the driver in the next lane swerved into my lane and cut me off. I didn’t think --- I just reacted. I stomped on the accelerator, swerved into the next lane and as I passed him, I shook my fist and cut in to the lane in front of him.
Maggie grabbed the armrest with one hand and my leg with the other.
“WALT! What are you doing? You don’t drive like that!”
Maggie’s fingernails digging into my thigh brought me back into the moment. I looked in the rear view mirror and noticed that the guy I had cut off looked like a linebacker for the Kansas City Chiefs.
“Oh crap!” I said. “Hang on!”
I swerved onto a side street and as the guy whizzed by, I noticed that he was giving me the finger.
Maggie stared at me in disbelief.
“What’s going on? I’ve never seen you like this.”
“I don’t remember ever being like this ----.” Then it dawned on me. “Not until today!”
As we sat in the Domino’s Pizza parking lot, I told Maggie the story of my adventures with Jerry, Mario, Luigi, Bowser and all the other characters I had run off the road.
When I was finished, she just shook her head in amazement and disbelief.
“That’s it! No more play dates with Jerry!”
I didn’t need any convincing.
As we drove to the restaurant, I thought about how that seemingly harmless game had affected me, and then I thought about the kid that was slitting throats on the other video game and wondered what he was doing tonight.
CHAPTER 8
Ox and I were anxious to hear what had transpired over the weekend with the drug cartel. After squad meeting we cornered the Captain in his office.
“Did they find the body?” Ox asked.
“Sit down, boys,” the Captain said gravely.
In my experience, it’s rarely good news when someone asks you to hear it sitting down. This was no exception.
“By the time Sergeant Winkl
er and his men arrived at the landfill, the trash had already been compacted and covered with dirt. He considered shutting down the landfill and bringing in digging equipment, but trash trucks were already lined up for a block waiting to dump. It would have taken hours to get the right equipment in there and no telling how many more hours digging and searching. It would have brought the cities rubbish removal system to a halt. He couldn’t make that decision on his own, so he called the mayor. The mayor was reluctant to cause such chaos based on something an old man MIGHT have seen. So no ---- no body.”
“I hope you had better results with the warrant on the warehouse,” I said.
“I’m afraid not. We got the warrant all right, but somebody at the landfill must have tipped off Corazon. When we searched the warehouse, all we found were fruits and vegetables. No gurneys --- no surgical equipment.”
“So we’re back to square one!” Ox said, shaking his head.
“It looks that way,” the Captain replied. “Sergeant Winkler will be watching both the warehouse and the Sunset Drive address, but unless something breaks soon, he’ll have to re-assign his men. He has a lot of territory to cover.”
“Is there anything that we can do?” I asked.
The Captain thought for a moment. “Yes, as a matter of fact there is. I’ve been thinking about our letter-writing friends. They’re knee deep in this thing and when they hear that we struck out, they’ll probably feel like they have to get involved again. I can’t have three retirement home residents getting whacked by a drug lord. See what you can do to keep them calm and out of the picture. You’re almost their age, so maybe you can talk some sense into them.”
Actually, they were at least fifteen years older than me, but I could see his point. Age isn’t necessarily a deterrent. In fact, I had discovered, by watching my own father, that when one recognizes that he is nearing the end, caution is sometimes thrown out the window. I vividly recalled the day I was summoned to the Liberty Memorial where Dad and Bernice were in handcuffs for doing the nasty at the top of the Memorial. Their only excuse --- it was on their bucket list.
“Sounds like we need to make a stop at Whispering Hills,” Ox said as we headed to the cruiser.
I called Frank and ask him to get the Three Amigos together for an update. He said they’d be waiting for us.
I had driven by Whispering Hills many times, but I had not been inside. It was a beautiful facility. Since we were nearing that special age, Maggie and I had received several mailings from them attempting to lure us in with their game room, weekly tea dances and wine and cheese parties. There were small cottages for those who were ambulatory and able to take care of themselves, but when the day came that was no longer possible, the total care facility was just steps away.
Frank and his friends lived in the little cottages.
We knocked and Frank opened the door with a big smile. “Come on in. I hope you have good news for us. We’ve been watching the TV all weekend for some big announcement. I guess the drug boys wanted to get things wrapped up in a big bow before holding a news conference.”
I hated what we had to do.
You could just see the disappointment on their faces and their jubilation turning to despair as we shared what the Captain had told us.
“So --- so what now?” Ernie asked. “Are these thugs going to get away scot-free?”
“Not at all,” Ox replied. “With the information that you have given us, the Drug Task Force will be watching them closely. They’ll make a mistake --- they always do, and our guys will be right there to take them down.”
“I just wonder how many poor souls will die or be disfigured for life before that mistake happens?” Paddy asked, sadly.
“The Captain wanted us to thank you for what you have contributed to this investigation,” Ox said, “and to remind you how dangerous these men are. You saw that for yourself, Frank. Let the department handle this from here. No one wants to see you get hurt. We promise that we’ll keep you informed of our progress.”
“Not a problem, officer,” Frank said, getting to his feet. “I’m just sorry things didn’t work out this time, but like the Canadian Mounties, I know you’ll get your man --- eventually. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have Bingo at ten o’clock. Minnie Potter is saving a seat for me. Who knows --- I might get lucky --- at Bingo that is.”
He gave us a wink and ushered us to the door. “Thanks for coming by.”
On the way back to the cruiser, Ox asked, “Did we just get the bum’s rush?”
“That was exactly my thought,” I replied. “I’m thinking we haven’t seen the last of the Three Amigos.”
“Who are these Amigo guys you keep talking about?”
“Get in the car and drive. I’ll introduce you to an American comedy classic!”
After the cruiser had pulled away, Ernie said, “You took that pretty well, Frank. I’m surprised.”
“The hell I did! I’m so mad I can hardly see straight. We handed that cartel to them on a silver platter and they blew it! Now we’re going to have to take care of this ourselves.”
“But you told the officers ---!” Paddy said.
“What did you expect me to say, Paddy? If they had an inkling that we’d be getting involved again, they’d be watching us closer than those druggies. No, we’ll let things cool down a day or two before we do our thing.”
“And just what ‘thing’ is that?” Ernie asked.
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll come up with something. You can count on it!”
Father O’Brian crossed himself.
On the way home that evening, my mind was filled with pleasant thoughts --- I envisioned a quiet dinner with my sweetie, then curling up in our recliner love seat to watch our favorite TV shows.
When I walked in the door, I got a rude awakening --- I smelled soy sauce!
“Maggie! Do I smell ---- Chinese?”
I never was a fan of Chinese food, but after my very first day on the force, when I was hit in the chest by a box of chow mien thrown by a greasy slob, I liked it even less.
Maggie planted a kiss on my cheek. “Yes, I picked up some cashew chicken on the way home. I knew you wouldn’t want to waste any time before you got started.”
I drew a blank. What had I forgotten this time? “Started? Start what?”
“Your committee assignment, silly. You’re Missing Persons. Remember?”
I hadn’t actually forgotten. I just didn’t want to remember.
“Tonight? I was hoping for ---.”
“If not tonight, then when? I know you, Walt Williams. You’ll put this off until the last minute. That’s why you have me --- to make sure you don’t do that.”
I could see that I was fighting a losing battle.
“But Chinese!”
“Sit down. Everything’s ready.”
I sat and there were two chopsticks beside my plate.
“Give me a fork or the deal’s off!”
After a less than satisfying dinner, I went to the office, plopped down in my computer chair and opened the envelope that contained the names of my missing classmates.
There were twenty-two names and I didn’t remember half of them. I pulled my yearbook out of the dusty box and looked up each of their pictures. Slowly but surely I started to remember details about these apparitions from my distant past.
I figured that the best place to start was Google. Only four of them were noteworthy enough to merit a spot on the popular search engine.
I clicked on a link that said, ‘Free People Search’. It took me to a website called PeopleFinder.com. I typed in the first name and ‘Bingo’, the person that I wanted popped up on the screen. The catch was that if I wanted to know where they lived and their phone number, it would cost me ninety-five cents. So much for ‘free’.
By the time I went through my list, I had seventeen bucks invested.
An hour into my search, Maggie came in with a glass of Arbor Mist.
“How’s my detective doing? Fi
gured you could use a pick-me-up.”
“Smashing!” I said. “Out of the twenty-two, it seems that twelve of them have passed beyond the veil, four of them are out of the country, two told me they could care less about the reunion and three were actually glad that I found them. I have one name left and I’ve been dreading it.
“Archibald Sanders.”
“Why are you dreading that one?”
“Because I don’t like the guy, that’s why.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
“I don’t want to get into it.”
“Spill it!”
I could see that I was doomed.
“It was our senior year. I was dating Martha Woodstock.”
“I remember you showing me her picture. Pretty girl.”
“Anyway, it was time for the spring play. Archibald, or Archie, as everyone called him, was the class thespian. Some kids were athletes, some were musicians. Archie was our actor.
“The play that year was The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, and naturally, Archie got the male lead. Against my wishes, Martha auditioned for the part of Becky Thatcher and got it. In the play, Tom and Becky kiss, and I have to admit --- I was jealous. Every day after school for a month, they rehearsed and kissed. By the time the play was over, Martha had fallen for Archie and I got dumped. So there it is! That’s why I hate Archie’s guts!”
“Goodness, Walt! Some wounds heal slowly. It’s been fifty years.”
“I know. Stupid, isn’t it?”
“So are you going to call him?”
“I suppose I have to. It’s my duty.”
I dialed the number that had cost me ninety-five cents and after three rings, he picked up.
“Archibald here.”
“Hi Archie. This is Walt Williams.” There was a long pause. “From Polk High School.”
“Walter, of course. How long has it been? So good to hear from you.”
“Actually, it’s been fifty years. That’s why I’m calling.”
In the next few minutes, I shared with him the details of the upcoming class reunion.
“So, just a couple of weeks away. Let me check on something.” I heard the rustle of some papers. “Splendid! I’ll actually be in Kansas City. I’m touring with the stage play, The Game’s Afoot. I’m the understudy for the male lead who plays Sherlock Holmes. We’ll be opening soon at The New Theatre Restaurant.”
[Lady Justice 12] - Lady Justice and the Class Reunion Page 8
