[Lady Justice 26] - Lady Justice and the Cat

by Robert Thornhill

  “MAGGIE!” I bellowed, scaring the daylights out of the cat.

  He made a beeline out of the bathroom. The end of the tissue had caught in his claw and he scampered away carrying a trail of tissue into the hallway.

  Maggie appeared in the doorway, probably worried I had fallen and maimed myself.

  Then she saw the mess. “What in the world are you two doing in here?”

  “What are WE doing?” I replied, incensed. “I came in here to poop and found this mess. This is all the cat’s fault!”

  I looked down and Clarence was staring at Maggie with the most woeful look I had ever seen.

  “Poor kitty,” she said, scooping him up. “You frightened him. He was just playing. We’ll buy him some kitty toys, like a mouse stuffed with catnip. I’m sure he won’t bother your precious toilet paper again. Isn’t that right, Baby?” she said, rubbing his ears.

  “Fine, fine!” I replied, clenching my butt cheeks together. “Can I have some privacy, please?”

  The two of them left and I did my business, but I had to unroll half the tube before I could find tissue solid enough that my finger wouldn’t poke through.

  When I came out, Clarence was lying by the door.

  “Damn cat!” I muttered.

  I looked, and I would swear Clarence was giving me the finger!

  Things had just settled down, when the phone rang. It was Louie the Lip.

  “Mr. Walt. I talked to Fingers Malone. Jus’ like I thought, he was contacted by a guy wantin’ him to open a Rhino safe.”

  “Louie! That’s great!”

  “Well, mebbe not so great. The guy wit de safe is Hector Lopez. He’s one mean dude. He’s de new head of de Mexican drug cartel on de West Side. Him and his sicarios got ever’ one runnin’ scared.”

  I could certainly understand that. A few years ago when I was on the force, I was part of an undercover operation that took down the Mexican cartel operating at that time. I was nearly blown to bits by a grenade launcher fired by one on the sicarios.

  “I gotta tell you,” Louie continued, “Fingers is scared shitless. He didn’t want to tell me cause he was scared o’ Hector, but he also didn’t want to piss off de brothers who was protectin’ him.”

  “I understand. I’ll get Ox and Detective Blaylock involved. We’ll do our best to protect your friend. When is this supposed to happen?”

  “Dis afternoon. Three o’clock. Hector is bringin’ de safe to Finger’s place.”

  “I can almost guarantee you that the cops will take Hector the minute he drives up. He’ll never even set foot in the shop.”

  “I sho hope youse right.”

  “Thanks, Louie, I owe you.”

  “Jus’ get dat bad guy off de street!”

  My next call was to Detective Blaylock.

  “Derek. Walt Williams here. I know who killed Jake Whitfield and his pal, and I know where they’ll be at three o’clock this afternoon.”

  I told him about my conversation with Louie the Lip.

  “You guys have the video of him loading the safe into the black van. When he shows up in the van with the safe in the back, I would think that would be enough to take him down.”

  “Hector Lopez! The drug task force has been after that guy since he hit town. Good work, Walt. Are you sure you don’t want to come back and work for us?”

  “Not a chance. See, here’s the difference. I got the information, but you guys are the ones who’ll have to round him up. No more grenade launchers or machine guns for me.”

  “We’ll have the block around the locksmith shop covered,” Blaylock said, “and I’ll give drug enforcement a heads up. They know where Hector hangs out on the West Side, and they can post men there just in case he slips through our fingers.”

  Next, I dialed Kevin.

  “Are you ready to find out what’s in that safe?”

  I told him what was going down. We decided we would watch the action from a safe distance. After all, we had been involved with the case from the beginning, so naturally, we wanted to see it through to the end.

  At two-thirty, we parked in a drug store lot a block from the locksmith shop but close enough we could see the action.

  I scanned the street in both directions looking for Blaylock’s men, but couldn’t spot a thing. That was a good sign, because Lopez would be looking too.

  It was ten minutes past three and the black van was nowhere to be seen.

  Five minutes later, my cell phone rang.

  “Mr. Walt! Louie. Dey got Fingers! Lopez done took Fingers!”

  “But how? We’ve been watching and haven’t seen a thing.”

  ‘Me an’ DeRon been watchin’ too. Lopez didn’t come in no black van and he sho didn’t go in de front. Right at three, he pulls up to the back entrance on de alley, two guys jump out, they go inside, and a few minutes later, dey’s draggin’ po’ Fingers out de door. Dey trew him in de car an’ took off like a bat out o’ hell!”

  “Crap!” I muttered. “They didn’t bring the safe to Fingers, they’re taking Fingers to the safe. Louie, did you see which way they were headed?”

  “Dey headed west on Independence Avenue. Me an’ DeRon is followin’ ‘em now.”

  “Good! Keep the phone line open and tell us where they’re going.”

  I turned to Kevin. “Let’s go! West on Independence Avenue. Step on it!”

  Then I remembered, Blaylock and his men were waiting out front.

  “Kevin, give me your phone. I’ve got to keep mine open so Louie can give us directions. I’ll call Blaylock on yours.”

  Just as he handed me his phone, Louie came back on.

  “Dey jus’ turned north onto Broadway.”

  “Got it. North on Broadway.”

  I was about to dial when Louie spoke again. “Dey jus’ turned off Broadway onto Woodsweather Road.”

  “The river!” I said. “Lopez must have figured Fingers would talk, so he grabbed the locksmith instead of bringing the safe. He also must have figured that if Fingers would talk, cops would be all over his neighborhood, so I’m betting he has the safe on a boat tied up on the river. He’ll get Fingers to open it on the water, then dump Fingers and the safe into the river.”

  “Dey just turned on State, den onto Market. Looks like dey headin’ to a dock down by de river.”

  Kevin had been really flooring it, so we were just a few minutes behind.

  “Gotta call Blaylock,” I said, dialing. “Derek. Lopez snatched Fingers. They’re headed to a riverfront dock on Market Street. Get your guys there pronto!”

  He started to reply, but I hung up.

  We arrived, and what I saw scared the bejesus out of me.

  Lopez was herding Fingers to a boat tied up at a dock. One of his sicarios was aiming a grenade launcher at Louie and DeRon who had just pulled up.

  “Christ! If he gets that thing off, they’re dead meat.”

  Kevin bailed out of the car, his weapon drawn.

  “I’ll only get one shot,” he said. “I hope it’s a good one.”

  He crouched, fired and the sicario dropped in his tracks.

  By this time, Lopez and Fingers were on the boat. Lopez, seeing his man fall, revved up the motor and took off.

  They had only gone maybe fifty feet when Fingers broke loose and dived into the river.

  Louie didn’t hesitate an instant. He dived into the swirling river and swam to the struggling locksmith.

  Kevin and I were about there when DeRon picked up the grenade launcher and aimed it at the escaping boat.

  “NO!” I shouted, but it was too late. The launcher roared and we watched in awe as the projectile arced across the water and slammed into the boat.

  A horrific explosion was followed by a ball of flames. The spectacle only lasted a moment as what was left of the boat slipped beneath the muddy waves.

  By this time, Louie had reached the shore with the exhausted locksmith. We hurried down to help pull him out.

  I clapped Louie on t
he back. “You’re quite a swimmer. That current is treacherous.”

  He grinned. “Grew up on de Mississippi. Done a lot o’ swimmin’ in waters jus’ like dis.”

  I turned to DeRon. “That was a hell of a shot.”

  “Afghanistan,” he said. “Army Rangers. Two tours.”

  At that moment, we heard sirens in the distance.

  “That’d be Blaylock and his men,” I said.

  “Might be a problem,” Louie replied. “’Cept for you an’ Ox, my relationship wit de cops is kinda spotty.”

  “You two get out of here,” Kevin said, picking up the grenade launcher. “We’ll take care of the cops.”

  Just as they were leaving, Fingers grabbed Louie’s arm. “Thanks. I owe you.”

  “Hey, when de brothers say they gonna protect someone, dey get de job done.”

  As soon as Louie and DeRon were on their way, Kevin flung the grenade launcher into the river.

  “What the hell?” I gasped.

  “It’ll be a lot easier to explain this way,” he replied, taking the pistol from the sicario’s belt and putting it in his limp hand.

  Five minutes later, the place was teeming with cops.

  Detective Blaylock came striding up. “Where’s Lopez?”

  “Blown up, Sir!” Kevin replied.

  I had to stifle a smile. Kevin had responded with a phrase Bill Murray had used in the movie, Stripes.

  “Blown up? Somebody tell me what the hell happened here! Come to think of it, what the hell are you two doing here?”

  “We were a full block away from the locksmith shop,” I replied. “We just wanted to see you take down Lopez. After all, we did give you the tip. Anyway, when he didn’t show up, we were about to leave when we saw him drag Malone from the back of his shop.”

  I hated to lie to Blaylock, but I had to keep Louie out of the picture.

  “We followed them here, and I called you as soon as we knew the location. Lopez was herding Fingers to the boat. This creep,” I said, pointing to the dead guy, “pulled a gun and was about to send a volley our way, but Kevin beat him to the draw.”

  “Lopez took off in the boat, but Fingers broke away and dived into the water. He swam to shore and we helped him out. Meanwhile, Lopez was maybe a quarter mile away when there was an explosion and his boat burst into flames.”

  “Yeah, someone called 911. Saw the explosion from the Broadway Bridge,” Blaylock said. “Any idea what caused the explosion?”

  Fingers spoke up. “I might. Before I jumped, I saw one of those grenade launcher things in the boat. The water was pretty rough. Maybe it went off accidently.”

  Fingers had played his part perfectly.

  Blaylock thought for a moment. “Guess we’ll never know for sure. What was left of that boat is probably scattered a mile down the river, carried away by the current. By the way, did you happen to see the safe?”

  “No,” he replied. “It wasn’t on deck. It might have been below, but I never made it that far.”

  “Well, if it was,” Blaylock said, shaking his head, “it’s somewhere in that river channel. We’ll try to find it, but it’s probably already buried in the mud.”

  “Look on the bright side,” I said. “You’ve solved three murders and the head of the Mexican drug cartel is fish food. Not a bad day, I’d say.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Let’s get your statements on paper and call it a day.”

  An hour later, Kevin and I were heading home.

  “You know what gripes me?” he asked.

  “Probably the same thing that’s been nagging me,” I replied. “We still don’t know what was in that safe, and probably never will. Forsythe never actually came out and said he had found Cooper’s money. He always called it his ‘treasure.’ We just assumed it was the money.”

  “So I guess that means that the mystery of D.B. Cooper is still intact,” he replied, “only now there’s another chapter. Did Cooper get away with the money, or is it still hidden out there in the wilderness. OR, is it in a Rhino safe at the bottom of the Missouri River?”

  We rode in silence the rest of the way home, but as I reviewed the past few day’s events in my mind, I couldn’t help but think how far I’d strayed from my days as a cop.

  Kevin and I had broken into Jake Whitfield’s apartment without a warrant, but we had found the evidence that broke Byron Forsythe’s murder wide open.

  We had conspired with known criminals to deduce the identity of Whitfield’s murderer and set up a sting operation to take him down.

  Then, to top it all off, we had totally fabricated a lie about what went down at the river.

  It was plain to see that I was definitely not working for the Lady Justice in the white flowing robe and blindfold. I was now in the employ of the Lady Justice of the dark side, the one wearing high heels and fishnet stockings.

  And yet, somehow, I felt no remorse. Three murders had been solved and no one was hurt. Maybe it was just rationalization, but I was firmly convinced that justice had been served.

  CHAPTER 11

  The next evening, Kevin and his wife, Veronica, were invited to our place for dinner.

  Ostensibly, it was to review the past week’s adventures for our spouses, but I suspected it was more like an opportunity for Maggie and Veronica to commiserate about how stupid their husbands were for pursuing cold-blooded killers.

  The Arbor Mist was chilled and the tuna casserole was in the oven.

  I heard a knock. Kevin and Veronica were right on time.

  When I opened the door to invite them in, Clarence bolted between my legs and out into the hall.

  “Damn cat!” I muttered, following him down the steps.

  When I arrived on the second floor landing, Clarence was snuggled in Jerry’s arms.

  “Lose something?” he asked, scratching Clarence behind the ears.

  “You know, Walt,” he said, wistfully, “we had a cat when I was growing up. Mr. Boots. He was black with white feet. I really loved that old cat. You having Clarence here has made me think about him.”

  “Swell,” I replied, not really wanting to accompany Jerry down memory lane.

  “Thinking of Mr. Boots brought a poem to mind I used to recite. Would you like to hear it?”

  Before I could answer, he plunged ahead.

  “It’s by Edward Lear. It’s called The Owl and the Pussycat.”

  The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea

  In a beautiful pea-green boat,

  They took some honey, and plenty of money,

  Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

  The Owl looked up to the stars above,

  And sang to a small guitar,

  "O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,

  What a beautiful Pussy you are,

  You are,

  You are!

  What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

  Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!

  How charmingly sweet you sing!

  O let us be married! Too long we have tarried:

  But what shall we do for a ring?"

  They sailed away, for a year and a day,

  To the land where the Bong-Tree grows

  And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood

  With a ring at the end of his nose,

  His nose,

  His nose,

  With a ring at the end of his nose.

  "Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling

  Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."

  So they took it away, and were married next day

  By the Turkey who lives on the hill.

  They dined on mince, and slices of quince,

  Which they ate with a runcible spoon;

  And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,

  They danced by the light of the moon,

  The moon,

  The moon,

  They danced by the light of the moon.

  “Very nice, Jerry. Now give me my cat.”

  “Sure, her
e you go,” he said, handing him over. “You know, I’ve been thinking about getting a cat for myself. What do you think?”

  “You know we have a ‘no pets’ policy here.”

  He looked disdainfully at Clarence. “Well you have a cat!”

  “No, I don’t have a cat! He’s just here until we can find him a home, then he’s gone.”

  “Sure! Whatever you say.”

  As I suspected, after sharing our adventures with Hector Lopez with our wives, we were appropriately chastised for risking our lives.

  After getting past that ordeal, I figured it was time to bring up the subject I had been avoiding.

  “Maggie, we need to talk about Clarence. He was supposed to be a guest for a few days until we found him a permanent home. I think the longer we keep him, the harder it will be for you to give him up.”

  I saw the disappointment in her face. “I know the two of you have had your issues, but don’t you like him just a little bit?”

  “That’s not the point,” I replied. “I just ran into Jerry downstairs. Seeing Clarence brought up old childhood memories of his family’s cat. Now he’s talking about getting one for himself. If he does, pretty soon Bernice will want one, then maybe Dad and the Professor. Before we know it, we’ll have a building full of animals. We can’t very well tell everyone else they can’t have an animal if we have one.”

  She sighed. “I see your point. I guess we should start looking for a new home. I’ll sure miss the little guy.”

  “I might be able to help with that,” Veronica said. “I think my mother could really use a cat right now.”

  Veronica’s mother had only recently appeared in our lives. In fact, she hadn’t seen her daughter since she gave her up at birth. You see, Veronica’s mother, Sara, was an undercover operative for a clandestine wing of the CIA known as Consular Ops. She was also a government assassin.

  Sara was actually on the run from the CIA, and figuring her days were numbered, she found Veronica, hoping to meet her long lost daughter before it was too late.

  Through a bizarre series of events, Sara got back in the good graces of the CIA and was permitted to retire from the organization after forty years of service.