[Lady Justice 12] - Lady Justice and the Class Reunion

by Robert Thornhill

  After the obligatory shower, shave and shampoo, I packed up my jumpsuit, wig and music disk and we headed to the ball.

  Maggie was gorgeous, as usual, and at her insistence, I donned my one suit and tie that I normally only wear to weddings and funerals. I made an exception just for her.

  The reunion was to be held in the ballroom of one of the fancy hotels.

  The decorating committee, minus the old guy that was practicing Elvis, had spent most of the day blowing up balloons and stringing crepe paper.

  After we had registered, we entered the ballroom and I had to say that I was impressed. Every table was set with a linen cloth and napkins and a fall floral bouquet. Helium filled balloons and crepe paper were everywhere. It was like we had stepped back in time fifty years to our senior prom.

  In one corner, our bales of straw and corn stalks helped promote the fall motif. The committee had placed little battery-operated candles in our jack-o-lanterns and the glow through the grotesque faces carved by my inebriated friends was actually quite appropriate. I made a mental note to take some photos to share with the gang.

  Across the room, I spotted Ox and Judy dressed in hotel attire.

  Detective Blaylock had hit a brick wall in the New Theatre Restaurant shooting. The only person with any possible motive was Archie Sanders and he was sitting at my table when the shot was fired. Martha Woodstock was conveniently missing from her table, but there was no concrete evidence to link her to the shooting.

  Ox had speculated that Archie could have been involved and that he was working in concert with Martha, or, Martha might have been acting on her own to get into Archie’s good graces. He had come up with a plan that might give us the answers and the Captain had signed off on it.

  Ox was at the party undercover as a bus boy and Judy as a server.

  Maggie had sewn a tiny microphone into the seam of one of the scarves that Elvis would be draping around adoring necks. My job was to make sure that Martha got the right one. Ox, Judy and I would be wearing tiny ear buds to pick up any conversation that might have a bearing on our case.

  I sauntered over and Ox slipped the ear bud into my hand. We were set to go.

  I spotted Don, Kenny and their wives at a nearby table and I steered Maggie in that direction.

  After introductions had been made, I glanced around the room. Eddie Delaney and his jock buddies were congregated at two tables side by side, the cheerleaders were huddled together at another and I had unconsciously drifted to the table occupied by my geek buddies.

  It was quite a revelation about human nature. Fifty years had passed, we had become wrinkled and frail, but the relationships that we had forged at Polk High were as strong as ever. Although the packaging had aged and possibly mellowed, the underlying personalities had remained much the same. Bodies certainly change, but people rarely do.

  Suddenly, heads began to swivel. Martha Woodstock had just walked in the door.

  She was wearing a low-cut sequiny sheath that most definitely accented her silicone-enhanced bosom. I noticed that several of the women glanced at their own breasts that had obviously migrated in a southward direction over the years. Not Martha’s.

  Her dress had a saucy slit up the side that revealed a well-toned leg and her pouty lips were probably filled with Botox.

  Martha looked twenty years younger than any other woman in the ballroom.

  The perfect social butterfly, she flitted from group to group, smiling, shaking hands and giving hugs. You could see the wives rolling their eyes at the same time that their husband’s eyes were focused on her ample cleavage.

  She finally got around to our table.

  “Walter, so nice to see you again.” She glanced at Maggie. “You too, of course. Have you seen Archie?”

  “No, but I’m sure he’ll be here. He said he would.”

  “Well, I certainly hope so,” she said flitting off to the next table.

  I felt Maggie’s fingernails biting into my thigh and I quickly averted my eyes.

  Wanda Pringle stepped up to the microphone and announced that it was time to begin and that everyone should take their seats.

  Dutifully, everyone returned to the chairs where they had deposited personal items to reserve their places.

  Martha had found an empty seat at one of the jock’s tables. At the last moment, Archie Sanders walked in the door and he took the only remaining empty chair next to Irma Turnbull.

  The look on Martha’s face told me that she wasn’t a happy camper.

  I was surprised that Wanda called on John Clevenger to offer the opening prayer. My recollection of John was that he was the first of my classmates to offer me a can of booze from a six-pack he had swiped from his older brother. I would never have guessed that John would become the pastor of a Presbyterian Church until his retirement. Maybe people do change.

  After the prayer, we were sent to the buffet line, table by table. Our table was one of the last to go. While we were waiting, Ox had been busy filling water glasses. One of the guys at my table must have been really dry. He downed his glass of water immediately and signaled to Ox.

  “Bus boy. I wonder if I could get a refill?”

  When Ox sauntered over to fill his glass, I held mine up. “How about some ice, bus boy?”

  He leaned over and whispered, “You can kiss my ice, funny guy!”

  After the meal, Wanda took the mike and launched into the part of the evening when class officers, aged class teachers and committee members were introduced. That was the cue for Maggie and I to sneak out of the room to get me dressed.

  The hotel had given us a storeroom in which we could change without being seen. Only Wanda and the entertainment committee knew about Elvis’ visit. It was to be a surprise for the rest of the class.

  I climbed into my jumpsuit, Maggie slipped on my wig and made last minute adjustments, and the scarves were placed around my neck in the proper order. I was ready for my second undercover assignment as an Elvis impersonator.

  Maggie slipped back into the room and I stood outside the big double doors listening for the first notes of the stirring anthem that opened Elvis’ last shows.

  Unless someone has been there, it is hard to explain the mixture of fear, excitement, expectation and pure adrenalin that courses through your body while you’re waiting for that magic moment.

  The moment came and I burst through the door, welcomed by the cheers, hoots, hollers and applause of my classmates.**

  The ovation was not for me, but for the idol that I was portraying. It’s almost like when an American flag enters a room. The flag itself may be old, torn and tattered, but the homage that is given is not for the material of which it is made, it is for all that the flag represents. Likewise, I knew that the cheers were not for me, but for one of the greatest voices and entertainers that ever lived.

  After my grand entrance, I took the stage and wiggled through Si Si Rider. After my opening number, I always like to add a bit of humor to my act so that folks won’t think I take myself too seriously.

  I opened with Elvis’ classic line, “Thank you. Thank you very much. I especially want to thank you for inviting me to the annual potluck of the Shady Rest Nursing Home.”

  I pretended like I was getting a message from an ear bud. “What? This isn’t the Shady Rest Nursing Home?”

  I took a long look at the aged faces in the audience. “Are you sure?”

  That brought the laughs that I was hoping for.

  **See photo, page# 232

  After a few more introductory remarks, I cued the DJ and the beautiful strains of Blue Hawaii filled the room.

  I had four scarves to give and I figured Wanda Pringle deserved one for all her hard work. Wanda giggled like a schoolgirl when I placed the first scarf around her neck and kissed her cheek.**

  The second one went to Gladys Finch. I was looking around the room for a third victim when I noticed my old nemesis, Eddie Delaney, sulking at his table. His wife seemed to really be into the E
lvis thing, so I thought, “Why not?”

  I put on my sexiest saunter and got down on one knee in front of Eddie’s wife, just as the words, “Come with me, while the moon is on the sea,” filled the room. I put the scarf around her neck and gave her a big hug. You can get away with stuff like that when you’re being someone else.

  I could almost see the steam rising from Eddie’s collar as I made my way to Martha Woodstock to deliver the last scarf.

  Martha played it to the hilt. Seeing this as a golden opportunity to show off her store-bought body, she seductively swayed to the final notes as Elvis sang, “That magic night of nights with you.” As I was walking away, she reached out and gave me a pinch on the butt. I just hoped that Maggie would remember that this was police work.

  Dirty business, but somebody has to do it.

  **See photo, page# 232

  I finished the set with Jailhouse Rock and Heartbreak Hotel and exited the ballroom to the cheers of my classmates.**

  Maggie met me in the dressing room. “Nice work, Romeo.”

  I wasn’t sure whether she was being complimentary or sarcastic. She kept me in suspense for a moment before she broke into laughter. “That was a blast!”

  I had just slipped out of my jumpsuit when Maggie grabbed my BVD’s and exposed my butt cheek. “Just wanted to see if Martha left a mark.” When she slapped me on the rear end, I knew everything was okay.

  I was anxious to see if the microphone in the scarf was working, so I put the bud in my ear.

  Martha was talking to one of the other women at her table.

  “Was that Walt Williams?” the woman asked.

  “Sure was,” Martha replied. “I dated him a few times in high school. He was a sweet boy.”

  That’s what every guy wants to hear. ‘Sweet boy!’ In the next sentence they tell you, ‘How about we just be friends?’

  “Well I think he has a cute butt,” the woman replied.

  I was glad that we hadn’t given Maggie an ear bud of her own.

  ** See photos, page # 233

  By the time we returned to the ballroom, the DJ was playing all our favorite old fifties tunes.

  We rocked around the clock with Bill Haley and the Comets and gazed into each other’s eyes as the Platters crooned Only You.

  It wouldn’t have been a fifties dance without the Twist and The Stroll and pretty much everyone was having a great time.

  I kept my eye on Martha, expecting her to jump on Archie like a duck on a June bug, but Archie’s attention seemed to be on his tablemate, Irma Turnbull. Every time another song started, Archie was dancing with Irma or some guy, hoping to get lucky, had grabbed Martha and drug her to the dance floor.

  I saw Martha get up and head to the ladies room. I got Maggie’s attention and suggested that she accompany her and see what she could drag out of her.

  I signaled Ox and Judy and we both listened intently.

  “Hi, Martha,” Maggie said. “Great party, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe for you, but not for me.”

  “Oh really? Why not?”

  “I came here hoping to have some time with Archie, but that slut, Irma Turnbull, has had her clutches in him all evening.”

  Martha certainly doesn’t beat around the bush.

  Maggie took the lead. “Walt told me that you and Archie dated in high school. Have you seen him much since then?”

  “Unfortunately, no. He went away to school and for most of his life, he’s been traveling around the country with some stage show. I was hoping that during his three months in Kansas City at the New Theatre Restaurant, that we could reconnect, but it hasn’t turned out that way. I even ----.”

  “Even what?” Maggie asked.

  “Nothing! Never mind! We’d better get back.”

  I thought that we almost had her.

  Fifteen minutes later, the DJ announced that the next dance would be a Sadie Hawkins Dance. The girls would ask the guys.

  Irma Turnbull had been in the powder room herself and returned to find Martha holding her hand out to Archie.

  Archie graciously accepted and left Irma fuming at the table.

  I Only Have Eyes For You by the Flamingos filled the room, and through my ear bud, I heard Martha whisper, “Remember this song, Archie. We parked by the lake and when this song came on the radio we danced in the moonlight.”

  “Sure I remember,” he replied. “Those were good times.”

  “I’ve missed you, Archie. I’ve been waiting for you, you know.”

  “Waiting? Waiting for what?”

  “For us to be together again, silly. I knew --- after the prom --- when we --- you know --- I just knew we were meant to be together. You were my first.”

  “Look, Martha, I hope you didn’t get the wrong idea. That was a long time ago. We were just kids fooling around. It didn’t mean anything.”

  Ohh Ohh! That wasn’t the message that Martha had been waiting all these years to hear.

  “Didn’t mean anything! You asshole! It meant everything to me!”

  “I’m so sorry, but you need to move on.”

  “Move on? You want me to move on? After all that I’ve done for you?”

  “What?” Archie asked bewildered. “What have you done for me?”

  “You bastard! I shot that actor so you could get the lead and now you’re dumping me like yesterday’s garbage!”

  “You did what?”

  That was all that we needed.

  I signaled to Ox and made my way to the dance floor.

  I tapped Archie on the shoulder. “May I cut in?”

  “Get lost, Walter!” Martha said. “We’re busy here.”

  “Sorry, Martha, can’t do it this time,” I said, showing her my badge.

  Archie backed away and I started dancing with Martha.

  “You heard, didn’t you?” she asked.

  “Yeah, we did. Microphone in the scarf.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “It’s armed criminal action, Martha. I’m afraid we’ll have to take you downtown --- in handcuffs, unfortunately. We can either do it here on the dance floor in front of your classmates or we can waltz over to that young lady by the door and she can do it out in the hall. Your choice.”

  Martha looked around the ballroom. “You always were a gentleman, Walter. Thank you. Let’s dance.”

  I twirled her toward the door and handed her off to Judy.

  As Judy was leading her away, Martha turned, “Looks like I made some wrong choices fifty years ago. I’m so sorry.”

  I nodded, but I wasn’t sorry. If she hadn’t dumped me fifty years ago, I might not be with Maggie today, and that’s what mattered the most.

  When I returned, the DJ was playing Ivory Joe Hunter’s, Since I Met You Baby, I’m A Happy Man.

  I grabbed Maggie and held her close.

  “Any regrets?” she whispered in my ear as we swayed together on the dance floor.

  “Not a one!”

  At the stroke of midnight, Wanda declared that the fiftieth class reunion of Polk High School was officially at an end.

  Classmates hugged and said, what for many, would be last goodbyes.

  I was about to join the other members of the decorating committee whose task was to tear down all of the crepe paper and pop the balloons, when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  It was Elana Gonzales. Elana was one of those classmates that you always knew was there, but somehow just never connected with --- different classes, different circle of friends.

  “Hi, Elana.”

  “Hi, Walt. I really enjoyed your performance tonight. Who would have guessed fifty years ago that you would be doing Elvis impersonations?”

  “Certainly not me. What can I do for you?”

  She hesitated, but forged ahead. “I understand that you are a police officer.”

  I nodded.

  “It’s my granddaughter, Sylvia. She has a friend that is in deep trouble. She fears for her life, but she is afraid to go
to the police. I thought maybe you could help.”

  I started putting two and two together --- a young Latino girl in deep trouble.

  “Elana, does the name Hector Corazon mean anything to you?”

  She looked surprised. “So you know?”

  “I know what that animal has been doing with young Latino girls. Is that what Sylvia’s friend is mixed up in?”

  She nodded.

  “Let’s meet tomorrow --- one o’clock at Mel’s Diner on Broadway. Bring Sylvia. Can you do that?”

  “We’ll be there. Thank you, Walt.”

  I certainly never figured that my class reunion would end with the arrest of one of my classmates and a lead to the drug cartel that had been stumping the department for months.

  Lady Justice certainly works in mysterious ways.

  CHAPTER 17

  Ox and I actually arrived at Mel’s Diner at noon. We figured that since we were already going to be there, we might as well enjoy one of Mel’s high-calorie, fat-laden meals.

  We had just polished off big pieces of lemon cream pie when Elana and her granddaughter slipped into the booth.

  Elana gave Ox a questioning look. “Hi Walt. Just wondering why you brought the bus boy to our meeting.”

  It was a natural mistake. Ox had probably filled her water glass.

  “Hi Elana. Ox is my partner. He was at the reunion on special assignment. It’s a long story.”

  I saw no reason to spread the news about Martha’s arrest. The Polk High rumor mill would be buzzing soon enough.

  “So this must be Sylvia,” I said, turning to the pretty young lady across the booth.

  “Hello, Mr. Williams,” she replied, shyly.

  “You can call me Walt, and this big guy is Ox. How can we help you?”

  “It’s my friend, Sophia. Sophia Sanchez. She has gotten involved with some very bad men and she’s afraid for her life.”

  “Hector Corazon?” I asked.

  She nodded. “He has been talking to many young women in our community. With the economy like it is, money has been tight and he has been offering a lot of it to the girls that join him.”

  “Have you been approached?”