“Get out of here NOW and call the cops! No questions! Just do as I say!”
His two friends hesitated.
“Go! Now! Before it’s too late.”
When he saw that Ernie and Paddy were almost to the exit, he boldly headed to the doorway of the operating room and met the two drug dealers face to face.
“Say, is there a bathroom around here someplace? My teeth are floating and I really need to take a leak!”
As Paddy quietly closed the exit door, he heard one of the men say, “Take him!”
When the two men were safely back in their car, Paddy crossed himself and said, “My God! What have we done?”
“We have to get out of here,” Ernie said, firing up the engine of the old Buick. “I’ll drive. You call the cops!”
Squad meeting had just started when my cell phone rang.
The Captain gave me a dirty look. He doesn’t like to be interrupted.
I was about to shut the thing off when I saw Patrick O’Brian’s name pop up on the caller id.
“I better take this,” I whispered to Ox, and slipped into the hall as unobtrusively as possible.
“Officer Williams?”
“Yes,”
“This is Father O’Brian. They have Frank!”
“Who does? Who has Frank?”
“Corazon’s men. I think we’ve made a terrible mistake!”
In the next few minutes, Father O’Brian relayed the story of their morning’s misadventures.
I was heartsick as I listened. I should have known from the tone of Frank’s voice when I told him how we had botched the airport job that he wasn’t about to sit still and do nothing.
“Go home!” I said emphatically. “Don’t go anywhere near that warehouse. We’ll take it from here. Do you understand?”
“I do and we will.”
I returned to the squad room.
“Captain, I hate to interrupt, but we have an emergency!”
As succinctly as I could, I relayed Father O’Brian’s conversation.
The Captain didn’t hesitate. “Williams, find Rocky Winkler and tell him to get his men to that warehouse. I’ll find a judge and we’ll get a search warrant. As soon as we have it in hand we’ll storm the place.”
“I thought that you already had a warrant.”
“We did, but we found nothing incriminating, so we have to start the process from the beginning.”
“But by the time --- “
“I’m sorry, Walt. It’s the law. You’d better get going.”
An hour later Winkler and his men invaded the warehouse, warrant in hand. As before, they found only produce workers sorting fruit and vegetables.
No Frank. No Rosalina Torres. No gurney.
Father O’Brian picked up the phone and listened quietly as Officer Williams shared the bad news.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Paddy asked, already knowing the answer.
The officer, of course, tried to reassure him that they just didn’t know, but in his heart, he knew that his friend was gone.
He had just hung up when Ernie walked in the door.
Paddy just shook his head.
Ernie gave a long sigh and wiped a tear from his eye.
“I know why he did it,” he said. “I just came from Doc Johnson’s office. He didn’t want to tell me anything because of that doctor-patient confidentiality thing, but when I told him that Frank might be dead, he spilled the beans. Frank had ALS, Lou Gehrig’s disease.”
“That explains a lot,” Paddy said, “the stiffness in his hands and legs, the fact that he actually let you drive. He must have been going downhill pretty fast.”
“He must have known,” Ernie said. “That’s why he did what he did to save us. He chose to die a hero rather than to slowly waste away.”
“We‘ve lost a good friend,” Paddy said, putting his arm around his companion. “I guess we’re not the Three Amigos anymore.”
CHAPTER 11
Everyone was heartsick about the disappearance of Frank Pollard and that we had let Rosalina Torres slip through our fingers.
Rocky Winkler vowed that he would step up surveillance on the cartel, but days passed with no new leads.
The disappearance of their friend must have taken the wind out of the sails of our remaining two letter writers from Whispering Hills. Father O’Brian called once to check on our progress, but otherwise they seemed to be out of the picture.
At last the day arrived when my old classmate, Archie Sanders, was coming to Kansas City for the opening of The Game’s Afoot at The New Theatre Restaurant.
Since Archie had offered us four tickets, we invited Ox and Judy to accompany us. Naturally, Maggie and Judy were a lot more enthusiastic about the evening affair than my partner and I. In fact, Ox was rather indignant at first that he had been roped into an evening with one of my old classmates until I told him that there was a free meal involved.
Maggie dutifully researched the play and was delighted to discover that Marion Ross, Mrs. Cunningham from the 70’s TV show Happy Days, was to be the female lead. Archie was the understudy for the male lead who played Sherlock Holmes in the opening scene.
We arrived at the theatre a half hour early and picked up our tickets at Will-Call.
We were just hanging around the lobby looking at the artwork and goofy statuettes when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
It was Martha Woodstock.
Martha had always been a pretty girl. That’s one reason why I was pissed when she dumped me for Archie Sanders. Unlike many of my classmates, upon whom Father Time had taken a toll, Martha was remarkably well preserved. If fact, after having just been on hooter patrol, it didn’t take a genius to determine that Martha’s mammaries were definitely defying gravity by artificial means.
“M-M-M-Martha! Imagine seeing you here!”
I’ve never claimed to be a silver-tongued devil.
“Hello, Walter. Good to see you after all these years.”
I felt a gig in my ribs and quickly recognized my cue.
“Martha, this is my wife, Maggie, and our friends, Ox and Judy.”
Maggie and Martha gave each other the full head-to-toe once-over.
It’s some kind of girl thing.
Martha didn’t beat around the bush. “I’m so excited to see Archie again. Have you seen him?”
“No, not yet, but I’m sure we’ll see him soon. We’re actually sitting at his table. He left us complementary tickets.”
Martha looked like I had slapped her in the face, but she recovered quickly.
“He’s probably with the other cast members. I’ll just drop by your table and say ‘Hi’ later on.”
Thankfully, at that moment, the doors opened and we took our places in line to be seated.
Once seated, we picked up our menus.
Ox and I are menu-wary. This past summer, we had spent a week aboard a cruise ship being subjected to strange food that we could neither pronounce nor enjoy.
Unfortunately, the first thing that I saw was ‘steamed fresh broccoli’ and I feared the worst.
Ox leaned over and pointed to an item, ‘baked ziti’. “Sounds like a skin condition to me. And what’s with these ‘half smashed potatoes’? Was it too much trouble to smash the other half?”
Naturally, Maggie and Judy picked this up with their ‘wife radar’ and we each got ‘the look’.
Archie still hadn’t arrived by the time we were to go through the serving line. I noticed that Martha Woodstock was seated on our same row, about four tables away. She had chosen the seat that looked directly at our table. Every time I glanced her way, she was staring at us intently.
Thankfully, the menu selections were much better than we expected and Ox and I both returned with full plates.
We were about to dig in when Archie arrived.
“So sorry, Walt. Cast duties and all. I’m sure you understand.”
After introductions, Archie excused himself and headed to the serving line.
/> He had returned and was barely seated when Martha approached.
“Archie, it’s been a long time --- too long.”
She leaned over giving him an unobstructed view of her ample cleavage and kissed him on the cheek.
“Why, Martha,” he replied, somewhat taken aback. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“I wouldn’t have missed the opening night of your play for anything,” she gushed. “When will you actually be performing?”
“It’s uncertain at this point. I’m an understudy. I perform when the lead wants a night off or, heaven forbid, is ill. I’m on standby, so to speak.”
“Here’s my number,” she said, slipping him a piece of paper. “Please let me know when you’ll be performing. I definitely want to be here.”
She gave him another peck and peek and headed back to her table.
During the meal, we talked about all the trivial stuff that people talk about when they haven’t seen each other for fifty years. I noticed that Martha’s eyes were riveted on Archie the whole time.
At last, the plates were cleared and the lights flickered, indicating that it was close to curtain time.
“Just a word of warning,” Archie said, pointing to a page in the program. “Since I’m seated with three of the city’s finest, don’t be alarmed in the first scene and do something rash.”
I looked where he was pointing and saw ‘WARNING! This show contains the sound of gunshots.’
“My character is winged in the arm. No harm done. It’s all in good fun, but the gunshot is quite loud.”
The lights dimmed, the curtain rose to applause, and just as Archie had predicted, just a few minutes into the scene, ‘BLAM’, echoed throughout the theatre.
Patrons jumped in their seats as the actor screamed, twisted and fell to the floor.
“My, my, a bit of overacting, I’m afraid,” Archie muttered.
Instead of the line that was written into the script, the actress pointed to a growing splotch of red that was oozing from under the body.
“There’s no blood in this scene!” Archie declared, jumping to his feet.
“He’s been shot!” the actress screamed. “He’s really been shot!”
I tugged on Archie’s sleeve. “So this really isn’t part of the play?”
“I assure you that it is not!”
Ox jumped into action. “Walt, head for the front door and don’t let anyone out of this theatre. Judy and I will cover the back entrances. Archie, call 911. Let’s go!”
I jumped from my seat and sprinted to the lobby. Fortunately, a manager was there. I showed her my badge and she had the doors locked just as a wave of frightened patrons came running for the exit.
I held up my badge and tried barking out orders, but, of course, no one paid any attention to the old guy.
When they discovered that the doors were locked, I feared there might be a genuine panic and people would be trampled and hurt, but fortunately, most of the patrons were probably Social Security recipients whose trampling days were long gone.
I was finally able to restore a semblance of order and the crowd hushed in silence as a fleet of squad cars with lights flashing and sirens blaring pulled into the front drive.
Detective Blaylock ran up the front steps. I gave him a little finger wave through the glass and he just shook his head.
The manager opened one of the doors and Blaylock entered.
“Williams, why is it that whenever there’s weird crap going on, you’re right in the middle of it?”
All I could do was shrug my shoulders. I had no idea, but it certainly seemed to be true.
I told him what I knew and was truly thankful when he took control of the scene.
We had acted quickly, so it was assumed that the shooter was still in the building.
No one was allowed to leave until they had been questioned. The theatre was thoroughly searched and a snub-nosed .38 was found in one of the balcony loges that were not occupied that night.
When it was all over and done, we had the weapon, but no idea who had fired it or why.
On the way home, Maggie said, “Did anyone but me notice that Martha Woodstock was not at her table when the shot was fired?”
I certainly hadn’t. My attention was focused on the carnage on the stage.
“How in the world would you have known that?”
“Haven’t you heard the old saying, ‘keep your friends close, but keep your rivals closer’?”
“Maggie! Surely you don’t ---?”
“Walt, just shut up while you’re still ahead!”
CHAPTER 12
Under normal circumstances, I’m happy when the workday is over and I can get home to my sweetie and we can enjoy a relaxing evening together.
Not today.
Instead of a nice meal and kicking back to watch my favorite TV shows, I had to hurry off to another one of those class reunion committee meetings. Even though I had completed my missing persons assignment, I feared that there were more projects waiting to be foisted off onto some poor unsuspecting soul --- like me.
I tried to stall, but Maggie knew me too well and prodded me out the door. My revenge was that I asked her to come with me. She readily agreed, probably thinking that I might veer off the path and wind up at Mel’s Diner for a piece of pie.
Wanda Pringle was the consummate committee chairperson. She was organized, authoritative and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.
After calling the meeting to order and getting reports from the various committees, she launched into the part of the evening that I had been dreading --- new assignments.
I held my breath as she doled out task after task. Finally, she came to me.
“Walt, you’re on the decorating committee. I have a special job for you. Since we have a fall theme, we thought it would be nice to have some outdoor things as accent pieces --- things like corn stalks, a bale of hay or two --- maybe some cattails if you can find them --- oh yes, and pumpkins. We’ll need at least a dozen --- carved. We can count on you for that, can’t we?”
Everyone was looking. What else could I say but ‘yes’.
Actually, when I thought about it, I got off pretty easily. Maggie and I could take a field trip and spend the day in the country, and I didn’t have to screw around with crepe paper.
I thought I was home free, but a chill ran up my spine when I heard her call my name again.
“Walt, we have another surprise that’s just going to be so much fun!”
“Yeah, I’ll bet!” I thought.
“As you know, there’s a varsity football game on the Friday night before the class reunion. I’ve spoken to the Pep Club sponsor and got everything cleared with the school. Our class Powder Puff Cheerleaders will be performing on the field with the Varsity Cheerleaders. Aren’t you excited?”
Actually, it was more like the feeling I always get when the doctor tells me that I’m due for a colonoscopy.
In our senior year, girls from our class played the girls from the junior class in what was billed as a Powder Puff Football Game. With genders switched, and the girls dressed in pads, some genius figured out that the cheerleaders should be guys and --- you guessed it --- I was one of the Powder Puff Cheerleaders. Not one of my prouder moments.
“Gee, I don’t know --- ”
“Of course you will!” Wanda gushed. “I’ve already spoken with Don, Kenny, Loren and Gary. They’re all on board and I know that you’d feel just terrible seeing them out there on the field without you.”
Like I said, the woman just doesn’t understand ‘no’.
“He’d love to do it!” Maggie said gleefully.
I could see right away that I had made a grievous error when I got Maggie involved in the reunion committee. She was having waaaay to much fun with this.
Just when I thought that nothing could be worse than five old guys prancing around a football stadium leading dumb cheers, she called my name again.
“Walter.”
I
froze. “What now? What more humiliation could she possibly heap onto me?”
“I was visiting with Sylvia on the entertainment committee and she reminded me that two years ago, you did an Elvis impersonation at the Sprint Center and actually won second place in the contest. We just can’t let that kind of celebrity in our class go untapped. We knew you would just love to do Elvis for us as part of the evening’s entertainment. Elvis was such a part of our lives back then. It would just be perfect!”
Actually, it was an undercover assignment. A citywide Elvis contest was being held in celebration of the release of a new album of Elvis’ songs that had been found thirty-four years after his death. The winner of the contest was to be the feature performer on the night of the album’s release. Contestants were being picked off one by one before the contest, so I was recruited to go undercover to smoke out the attacker.
No one ever expected me to get past the first round, but somehow the specter of a sixty-seven year old Elvis caught on and I actually made it to the finals.
As I recalled that night, I knew I was in trouble. It was right after that performance, in front of nineteen thousand people, I proposed to Maggie dressed as Elvis.
Before I could even open my mouth, I heard Maggie’s voice a second time.
“He’d love to do it!” Maggie just couldn’t resist the opportunity to relive that special moment.
I wasn’t nearly as thrilled.
It was a quiet ride home.
My head was filled with images of me making a fool of myself, first on the football field and then the next night, trying to wiggle my sixty-nine year old hips onstage.
Maggie finally broke the silence. “You’re upset with me, aren’t you?”
“I might as well show up dressed as Ronald McDonald. I seem to be the class clown!”
“So that’s it,” she replied. “After all these years, you’re still worried about what your classmates are going think about you. Peer pressure is a powerful thing. Let me tell you something, Walt Williams.”
“What’s that?” I answered, glumly.
“You have nothing to prove. Have you taken a close look at your classmates?”
“Like what?”
[Lady Justice 12] - Lady Justice and the Class Reunion Page 10
