The Sins of a District

by Alexander Whittle

  Walker had but one thing on his mind, and that one thing just happened to be lurking in a hot car across the road half asleep. Wayne was dozing in and out of consciousness with his arms folded and his janitorial cap pulled over his eyes to shield him from the sun. During one of the brief moments when he was awake, he noticed to his horror the black BMW had left the space it was parked in. He poked his head out the window just in time to see the car pulling away down the street. Wayne hastily threw his hat into the back and desperately pursued the man he was doing a poor job of stalking in his spare time. He swerved out of his space; he took no time to consider that there may be other cars on the road. He clattered into another parked car swiping the passenger side of his vehicle and losing a wing mirror in the process, also leaving an ugly blue smear of paint and scratch marks across the door of the other car.

  “Shit! C’mon!” he shouted to himself, dodging and weaving around the drivers that chose to obey the laws of the road. He raced straight through the lights much to the annoyance of the other drivers; he finally reached the optimum distance to follow Walker. All the while Eli several cars in front was unaware of the commotion being caused by his follower one hundred yards behind. He was so wrapped up in his own issues that the sound of horns blaring and people shouting totally escaped him. Eventually, he arrived at Mickey’s bar, hopping out of the front seat and pulling on the door handle to enter the club. The doorman didn’t give him a second glance, and he didn’t receive one either, he was the perfect patron for the establishment, smartly dressed and confident. Peterson would not be so lucky, not having a spare change of clothes in his trunk or the backseat he knew attempting to walk through the main entrance would be folly in a janitor’s outfit. Wayne licked his palm and flattened down what was left of his hair in parts and composed himself, he grabbed the hat from the backseat and walked towards the alleyway next to the entrance. There was an emergency fire exit that he tried to jimmy open, but was unsuccessful in doing so. After many minutes of deliberating, he finally decided just too simply bang on the fire exit door hoping someone on the other side would hear.

  “Ah there you are!” said one of the busboys from around the corner at the rear of the building, “what are you doing out here? We have a spill in the toilets, looks like someone had a little too much and was sick,” he added.

  Wayne was confused for a moment but then realised he didn’t recognise who he was, just assuming he was any other cleaner that worked there.

  “Sure thing boss I’ll get right on it,” replied Peterson in a confident manor. He entered the back passageway and continued through the busy kitchen where people were shouting orders, and hustling around with pots and pans during the lunchtime rush. Wayne reached for his glasses and pulled his cap down further over his forehead to cover his face before walking out onto the club floor where all the customers were. With his hands in his pockets he took one look around the room and scanned through the faces of the innocent people laughing and conversing, trying to have a good time. Until he noticed the not so innocent Eli Walker sat at a booth in the far corner with his hands wrapped around a drink. Wayne also noticed him sat talking with a man, a man with his back turned. Desperate to see his face he moved casually across the room. Not taking his eyes off of the man he hated more than anything else in this world, he felt as if time had slowed down and the music and laughter could no longer be heard, he was completely focused.

  “Hey, we aren’t paying you to stand around and gawk at the clientele, now get in there and clean that mess up,” said one of the waiters as he placed his hand on Wayne’s shoulder, startling him and bringing him out of his trance. He looked at the waiter and was promptly pushed through one of the doors leading to the toilets, then the other, into the bathroom where bizarrely a trolley full of janitorial and cleaning products was already placed, the mess was gone. Slightly confused, he came to the conclusion that the real janitor who worked there must have already completed the task, finally a stroke of luck for the man as he grinned a little. Suddenly, he heard the noise of the outer bathroom door being opened and voices talking. Fearing it could have been Walker he dived into a nearby bathroom stall not wanting to be discovered. It was Eli and Harry, the man Peterson couldn’t recognise a moment ago from the booth,

  “I just don’t understand why we had to bother buying a drink,” said Harry as the two of them pushed open the inner wooden doors to the men’s room. “I mean if all you wanted to do was talk somewhere in private we could have just walked straight in here when we arrived,”

  “And you don’t think that would look the slightest bit odd? In a place where we have met many times and the staff have seen us meeting at all hours, for us to both enter and walk straight into the bathroom together. You don’t find that odd? Maybe that it sends the wrong idea out there?” Walker asked Harry while he washed his hands.

  “Well I guess so, when you put it that way I can see how it could look strange,” Harry replied. “So spill then, what was it you wanted to talk to me about that couldn’t wait until this evening?”

  “Well Harry we have a problem,”

  “We have a problem? Or you have a problem?”

  “No, we both have a problem, my problems are your problems as well Harry you know that,” said Eli Walker, as he reached towards the empty towel dispenser. Needing to dry his hands he cheekily used Harry’s suit jacket, wiping his hands on his shoulders without a care in the world that it might be offending him, which it clearly was.

  “OK Walker, what do you want this time?” asked Harry in a servile and obedient tone of voice.

  “The...” Eli paused for a second as he noticed the janitor’s trolley in the corner and wondered if he might still be here somewhere. He crouched down and looked under bathroom stalls to see if a pair of legs could be seen skulking in one of the toilets. Unbeknownst to him, Wayne Peterson was in fact perched in his work boots carefully balanced over the closed lid of the toilet seat in the stall at the far end. Wayne was as silent as the breeze on a calm day and learned to control his breathing to avoid alerting the men outside the stall, a little trick he learned while escaping the dangers that occurred sometimes in a maximum penitentiary facility. Sounding satisfied that no one was lurking around Eli continued with what he was about to say to Harry,

  “The reason I called you here is because me and you both have a little problem, a problem which I need taking care of, Wayne Peterson. I got a very interesting phone call from the man a few nights ago, claiming my daughter was in danger and that he was going to kill her. Do you think he’s capable or could quite possibly do something like that?”

  A look of sheer fright and confusion appeared on the hearkening Wayne’s face as he shook his head and wondered what the heck was going on.

  “Wait...Wait, you actually heard him say he was going to kill your daughter? Why would he admit that? You’re sure it was him and not just some random thug playing a joke on you?” Said Harry as a flurry of questions came out about the incident.

  “Yes I’m sure it was him, who else would say ‘you took the last twenty years of my life’?” replied Walker,

  “Well you have pissed off a lot of people, and I suppose you did send him back to prison just to look good when you ran for political office,” said Harry. Meanwhile, Wayne could barely contain his silence in the cubicle at the end upon finally hearing the reason why Walker did what he did. Also the fact that this was the proof he needed and he had forgotten to bring his phone or any other form of recording device from his car. Just then, his foot slipped slightly as it was balanced on the seat, creating a small noise that alerted Eli immediately. Determined he was going to find someone hiding in there and listening to their whole conversation, he opened the first bathroom stall door to find it empty. As he let go the door automatically closed itself due to the designed springs in the hinges. He opened the second of three doors to find it empty, by this point Wayne was terrified, he was hiding behind the final door.

  “I don’t quite beli
eve what I am seeing here,” said Harry, “You’re actually being this paranoid,”

  Walker hesitated before opening the third door and gave Harry a stern look, his hand was held pressed on the third stall door.

  “...Maybe you’re right,” Walker replied, removing his sweaty palm from the cold stall door.

  Walker just grunted and exited out of the bathroom with Harry promptly following behind. At that moment, Wayne calmly walked out of the third stall; he wouldn’t have been able to squirm his way underneath the partings between the closed stalls so he was trapped in the final one. Another stroke of luck for him as he left the men’s room and hurried back through the kitchen, out the back passage and down the alleyway towards his car.

  Chapter IV

  It had been a week since April’s suicide attempt, and Ryan was finding the new found closeness he had with his almost estranged daughter quite endearing. He never had to work that hard for her affection, she always made it clear that she preferred him to Jessica. The two were sat in a coffee shop located near to Dupont Circle, the place where Harry revealed his revelation to Ryan, about what they did to Wayne Peterson nearly twenty years ago. The cafe was petit yet modern in decor; the smell of freshly brewed ground beans and the constant tapping sound of laptop keys were heard.

  “How come I never got to meet grandma?” she asked Ryan, they sat down at their stools by the window across from the parkway.

  “What are you talking about? You see your grandmother all the time,”

  “No I mean YOUR mother,”

  “Oh right, she left me at a very young age, there was nothing I could do about it either. I had to live with my grandmother for many years until I was old enough to go it alone.”

  “Why did she leave?” April then questioned her father, bringing an abrupt end to their cheerful afternoon. Ryan feared one day she would ask him about his childhood, he was never a very good liar, so he would be forced to reveal some details.

  “I was only a small boy at the time, but she was killed one night during an armed robbery, while I was asleep I didn’t see much,” he said wanting to spare her the overly gory facts from his many dreams about the incident for a moment or two. April just continued to stir her hot chocolate with a long green straw out of the container on the table. Ryan knew that this was a run of the mill answer that she had heard many times before from him, he realised that it was perhaps time he let April know the truth about this part of his past.

  “Then after that everything sort of settled down. I remember going to live with my grandmother. It was fine at first, but then when I was about eight or nine I started having these nightmares. Nightmares about what I saw and how it all happened, they prevented me from sleeping well for many years, sometimes they still do,” confessed Ryan as he anxiously feared his daughter would think him a different man. Instead she grabbed his hand from over the table and just smiled at him, this slightly comforted Ryan and cheered him up.

  “Did they ever catch the guy?” she asked,

  “No, they never caught him, not much was even heard about it as time went by on the news or in the local papers either. It’s partly why I became a cop; I vowed to myself I would never let the same thing happen to another young child or person in trouble. That justice would always be served, although lately I am beginning to lose the will to do the job.”

  “Dad you love being a policeman you always have as far back as I can remember, besides it’s a cool thing to tell all my friends,” April replied, she chuckled into her glass. This was a big moment for Ryan, not even Jessica knew about his childhood, when she had tried to ask in the past it was met with rejection. At that moment, Ryan received a distressing text from Claire on his phone,

  “Come quick, we need to talk about something, Harry really is acting strange I need your help, I’m worried about him.”

  Concerned that Claire was in trouble, Ryan quickly drove April home and headed to the lab where she was working that day. It was still stationed underneath the department, but like the above floors, had seen a major refurbishment and redevelopment in the several previous years. The lab certainly was cleaner and much more high tech than before; Ryan made his way to her work station in one of the examination rooms.

  “We may have a problem,” said Claire as she approached Ryan when he entered the room.

  “What’s going on? What’s the big emergency?” he asked,

  “Harry just came bursting in here about an hour ago, he was drunk and slurring his words. Grumbling something about a man named Walker. I assume he meant the City Councilman he seems to be friendly with.”

  “Walker? What did he say about him?” Ryan then asked,

  “That’s what is so strange he stumbled in here, luckily while everyone else was on their lunch break, swearing about Eli Walker. He was about to tell me something then all of a sudden he just froze up and hurried out of here. I wasn’t sure what on earth to make of it,” Claire replied as she held her hand to her chest. “Ryan, what the hell is going on with him?”

  Ryan shook his head in confusion, all the while knowing exactly why he mentioned Eli Walker by name. He concluded that Harry must still be struggling with who might know about the Peterson incident. Claire however, seemingly knew nothing about what had happened and was just worried for a friend. Ryan wanted to keep it that way. The less people who knew the better, even if she was one of his oldest and most trusted confidents he had known nearly all of his life. Something deeper must have been going on here, and Ryan was determined to find out what. Even if it meant digging deeper into both Harry and Eli to confirm his suspicions about what might still be going on between the two.

  * * *

  Later that night, the man Ryan Mathers had just committed to himself to investigate, was slouched in one of the two leather wing chairs in his downstairs library on Garfield Street near Woodley Park. Eli Walker was gently sipping from one of the many gold rimmed glass goblets that he poured his expensive tastes into each night to help him unwind. Eli was slumped down in the chair with one leg positioned over a rather expensive Victorian style handcrafted footstool, while his left hand spun the shiny minibar drinks cabinet in the shape of the globe by the freshly polished coffee table. The room smelt of old leather bound books and scented furniture polish, which was of course before many cigars were smoked throughout the evening. Eli leaned forward in his wing chair and placed the drink down on the table, he reached for an old picture of him on his wedding day with his wife. He brushed her face in the picture with the tips of his fingers before carefully placing it back on the coffee table.

  “Every night you come in here and look at that picture,” said Eli’s daughter Christy who had stealthily crept out of her room and down the stairs to her father’s study.

  “Can you blame me? I miss her every day,” he replied,

  “What was she like?”

  “She was wonderful, always kind to everyone and never had a bad thing to say. She was the second best thing in my life.”

  “Oh, and what was the first?” Christy replied confidently as she was the answer to her question.

  “Johnny Walker black,” Eli stated, he glanced at his chalice and let out a throaty laugh before taking another sip.

  “Oh ha-ha, I know you meant to say me dad,” she said sarcastically as she placed herself on the arm of Eli’s chair. “Do you ever blame me for it?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! Some things just happen, I gained the best thing that ever happened to me that day, that’s all I choose to remember about what happened,” said Eli. He dismissed the idea that he held any resentment at all for something his daughter couldn’t change. As the two shared a hug before Christy went back up the stairs and back to bed Eli grew worried about the idea of something happening to his little girl. The thought of Wayne Peterson’s threat becoming a reality was beginning to take a tighter grip on Eli’s mind. Always the confrontational type, he knew he had to keep a close eye on his daughter; the police couldn’t be involved, as they wo
uld ask too many questions. Eli knew he would have to use his close and personal puppet if he wanted Peterson gone, but still Eli chose to wait. To wait and see if Wayne was truly going to be a problem, rather than possibly creating another one by trying to have him go away for good. Just like that he launched the expensive glass that still contained several small mouthfuls across the room at the cream coloured wallpaper. The glass completely smashed and the shards fell all across one corner of the room, near to the tall growing ficus plant by the patio door at the rear of the house. Eli pressed his head in to his hands and let out a tired sigh of frustration. A man who was always so used to being in control of a situation felt he was losing it. If anyone saw him at this specific moment it would indeed create the impression that he was nervous and overly tense about something. He stood up and walked over to his desk, he reached for a key that was hidden behind one of the red law books on the shelf stack behind him. He unlocked the dusty drawer; he reached inside and removed several files before reading through them.

  Part Five

  Chapter I

  It was a warm spring morning in April and Detective Ryan Mathers of the second district of the Washington D.C. police department was in the station house file room. Still suspicious of Eli Walker and his possible connection to Harry, other than framing Wayne Peterson twenty years ago, decided he needed to dig a little deeper. This involved pulling box after box from off of the untouched and dust ridden shelves and scanning through all of his former partner’s old case files. As well as anything related to Wayne Peterson’s conviction two decades ago. Ryan carried the files out to his car, to which had now been fixed and also Ryan had his license returned to him. Placing folder after folder into the boot of his car, attracting the attention of one of the admin clerks as he entered in and out.