by W.H. Harrod
I felt nervous as I caught sight of Mary June’s VW bug pulling up along side the stairs to my apartment. I’d had more than five hours to think about the scheduled meeting with the eccentric UB2 and his surprise accomplice, you looking at me Judge. And to say I felt a bit nervous stated it mildly. Either one of the two scared the pants off most of the local citizenry. Now here I was heading out to meet with both of them, out of sight of any other human excepting Mary June. My initial gratitude for her assistance grew exponentially during the last few hours, and I intended to thank her again for coming with me.
She must have seen me waiting because she did not turn the engine off but rather left it idling while I hurried down the stairs and got into the car. Consistent with the clandestine nature of our outing, she immediately pulled out of the diner parking lot as if heading east to Justice City. As far as I could tell not a soul took notice of our departure or tried to follow. I know that because I rode the first ten miles with my torso turned around a full one hundred eighty degrees looking out the back window.
“Well, okay,” I said, “I think this date is going very well so far, don’t you?”
Mary June looked hard at the rear view mirror before answering, “Maybe, but don’t get cocky just yet. Every back road we travel will have eyes watching the comings and goings of any vehicle that passes by. That’s just the way it is. People around here want to know who’s driving up and down their roads. They may not know where we end up, but, for sure, people will know this car has been on their road, and they will mention it to their neighbors. If things work out as I hope they will, we should be pulling into UB2’s place right about dark.”
I did not doubt what she said, and as long as we weren’t seen coming and going from UB2 or Dom’s, if my recollection of his real first name was correct, I cared little for what others thought or said.
My escort became silent after our initial observations, so I took the opportunity to express my sincere appreciation to her for helping out. Without her, I ran the real risk of being followed. She continued driving after I finished speaking as if I’d said nothing of consequence. I took no offense as I expected more important matters took precedence. Therefore, I decided to respect her pensiveness and use the quiet time to organize my own thoughts relating to the coming meeting.
The quiet didn’t last long until Mary June broke the silence. “Will, you have it completely backwards. It’s the other way around. The citizens of Jonesboro owe you a huge debt of gratitude. I shudder to think what might be happening right now if you had not been here to help. So I want you to stop thanking people around here for anything, especially me. Before you showed up and started to help, I had just about given up. Really! I was just about ready to concede that the whole world was irretrievably screwed up, and it made no sense to waste time trying to change anything. You’ve given us reason for hope. And I’m talking about local folks on both sides of the political spectrum. So don’t be thanking anyone around here for anything.”
Her stern look impressed upon me the sincerity of her remark. I felt on the verge of blushing like a teenager listening to grandparents trying to convince the neighbors that their grandchild is so much more special than all those other young truants roaming around the community. I didn’t know what to say, not being accustomed to such high praise, so I sat quietly savoring the moment. A guy needed to be careful or he might find himself getting to like being appreciated.
“Don’t you go and get all full of yourself just because we’re all so grateful. I’ll tell Flo, and she will jerk a big knot in your you know what. Got it?”
Wow! That was a short ride on the old inflated ego wagon. “Yes, I do,” I responded somewhat submissively. “Yes, I do.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want that head of yours to get any bigger than it is or else certain persons might find it necessary to teach you otherwise. If you know what I mean?” She looked over at me and smiled as she finished speaking.
“You don’t have to worry about that happening,” I assured her.
“Good. Then tell me, does anyone else know where we’re going?” she asked.
“I did call the Mayor. I felt it best to have him know, just in case.”
“In case of what?” was Mary June’s quick response.
“In case it’s a trap and you and Flo and the Bufords and the two weirdoes I’m going to meet out here and most of the nut ball customers that come into the diner are all conspiring to get me out in the sticks to do away with me. That’s what!”
My driver finally loosened up, “Okay, I get it. I’ll lighten up. You just remember that I’ll have Lucy turned around and ready to blast off if you come running out the door screaming for help. Okay?”
The sun, setting behind us, was much closer to the horizon. Darkness fast approached as my smiling chauffer made the turn onto a gravel road heading due south. I expected her to take another turn not much farther on to head us back in the direction from which we came. Then we would exit the gravel road onto the black top for the final run to UB2’s property located a quarter mile back off the highway. My suspicion proved to be correct. Mary June made the final turn onto the long entry road leading up to the dilapidated old farm house partially concealed by overgrown shrubs and trees. The time read 8:59 p.m. I had to be impressed with my companion’s logistical calculations. After I got a good look at the ominous appearing, run down, old farmhouse, I felt even more grateful for her company. Not a place to find yourself alone.
Everything related to the old farmstead reeked of disrepair. Shed doors hung askew, old rusting farm equipment left out in the open was partially obscured by tall weeds, the roof of the farm residence had missing shingles, and the whole porch running the entire length of the front of the house looked to be piled high with sagging cardboard boxes containing who knew what. The only thing not deserving to be classified as trash heap or junk yard worthy was the same shining black pickup truck I’d seen at the diner earlier when the Judge blew my socks off by informing me of his UB2 connection.
The VW came to a quiet stop a ways back from the house. I turned to my companion, but before I could say anything, Mary June started talking.
“I’m going to turn the car around and have it heading down the driveway, so if you’re running for your life, shout, so I can go get you some help. Okay?” She smiled then which helped to reduce the mounting tension somewhat.
“Listen,” I began picking up on her attempt to lighten the mood and ease my nervousness. “If I don’t make it back, I just want you to know—”
“Shut up,” she interrupted, after first looking as if she thought I was serious. “Do you want me to tell Flo how you tried to get some sympathy? Do you?”
“Bad idea, huh? Well, okay then. I’ll just go on in there and see if I can’t put in a few bad words for our buddy, Big Bob, and his band of goofy pranksters. Wish me luck, huh?”
“Get out of the car, now!” Mary June demanded from behind a smile she tried to conceal. “Now!” she said again as the smile morphed into a grin. By the time I exited the VW, she struggled not to laugh.
“Anyway, it’s just gratifying to know someone cares—”
“Go,” I heard her yell through the rolled up VW window.
As I turned and walked the twenty yards to the box laden front porch, I heard outright laughter coming from the VW. What else should I expect of one who is trying to function normally in the midst of universal insanity? This whole thing did screamed of insanity. It stood to reason I must be the craziest of all. Because? Well, because I had no dog in this fight. I should be the gawker standing on the sidelines merely curious as to how all these crazy people ever got involved in this mile long turnpike pile up.
Right as I finished that disturbing thought, I stepped on to the creaky wooden porch amid all the boxes and junk. At the end of the five-foot wide corridor between the piles of boxes, a rickety wooden screen door awaited my arrival. The greater part of the upper section of the screen door hung loose towards the bottom of the frame. I si
mply reached through the hole and rapped on the flaking paint covered front door. I stepped back in anticipation of being greeted by either one or both of the two strange individuals I expected to find within. I hoped they did not want to shake one of my cold and clammy hands presently being robbed of the warm blood that was right then being redirected towards my heart as a natural precautionary measure. One more example of another highly evolved and essential evolutionary development serving humans for millions of years which I now intended to completely ignore.
I heard the sound of feet coming towards the front door well before the maintenance deprived, paint flaked, ancient piece of wood in front of me began to creak and groan in its futile efforts to resist being moved out of my way. Standing in the middle of the open door way, a kindly looking, white haired old gentleman absent the hooded jacket and sunglasses greeted me with a smile. My spirits soared as I hurriedly revaluated my chances of surviving this much agonized over ordeal and concluded Mary June may not have to function as my escape pod pilot after all.
“Welcome, Will. Please come in,” said the friendly old gentleman to my exponentially increased relief.
“Thank you,” I responded as I stepped back to open the dilapidated screen door. I advanced not more than eight feet into the room before I turned and awaited my host’s next move. I’d managed to catch sight of another individual sitting alone in an adjacent room staring at a huge flat screen television on top of what looked to be an antique oak sideboard. Another quick glance told me my two co-conspirators were watching a baseball game.
“I’m not interrupting anything important, I hope?” I asked mostly to be polite. I had little doubt I would not have been asked to sneak out of town for a clandestine meeting unless they believed the matter was of the utmost importance.
“No, no, please come in. My brother Luke and I were just catching up on the status of our favorite Kansas City Royals’ latest efforts to blow another ball game. They are badly in need of some pitching, but then what else is new. As soon as they get another good pitcher, the Yankees will come along in a couple of years and offer him a hundred million dollars to skip town. They haven’t been the same since Brett retired over twenty years ago. But, that’s not important right now, is it.”
I recalled the golden era of Kansas City baseball back in the early eighties, but since then I had gradually lost contact with the team like so many other disenchanted former fans. I agreed, right now none of that was of the slightest importance.
“Come on in and let me introduce you to my brother.” With these words, my host turned and walked towards the individual sitting before the big flat screen television. I asked myself if I heard him correctly when he said the individual sitting in the other room, whom I had already identified as looking a lot like our favorite diner Judge and the same individual who shocked me recently by identifying himself as UB2’s confidant, was none other than his brother?
“Luke, I believe you know Will,” he said to the television watcher. “Will, I also believe you know my brother Luke, or Judge Brazzi, if you go by his official title.”
I definitely recognized the Judge, plus that name sounded very familiar. Not from the diner because the only name I’d ever heard there was the you looking at me Judge moniker. I never thought of that guy having a last name. Where had I heard the name Brazzi before? Oh my God! Lucca Brazzi! The Godfather hit man! Lucca Brazzi! Luke Brazzi? Dom Brazzi! Holy Crap! The Italian Mafia!
“Is something wrong, Will?” asked my host, Dom. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost or, at least, Big Bob Buford,” Dom said half laughing.
All this time his brother, Luke, sat quietly looking back and forth between the television and the discussion going on between Dom and myself. I decided to come clean about the name.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that—”
“It’s the name, Brazzi. Isn’t it? We get that all the time. In all fairness, we had the name before the movie came out. Of course, my brother has borne the brunt of the burden of having a name similar to the famous movie villain. I suspect that may be part of the reason for his generally surly disposition,” he concluded with a smile.
When my host finished his statement both he and I looked in the direction of the Judge. My partner in conversation laughed while I, on the other hand, saw no benefit in chancing the Judge’s wrath. The Judge merely looked at his brother with raised eyebrows as if telling him to immediately cease and desist, which he did.
Before more small talk ensued, the Judge turned away from the television and asserted himself into the conversation. “Did you come alone?” he asked rising from his chair and walking towards me.
I needed to think before I responded. “No, a trusted friend brought me here by a circular route to prevent me from being followed. She is waiting out in the car. I’m sure you needn’t worry about her not being discreet; she absolutely hates Big Bob and his cronies.”
The judge appeared to be thinking about what I told him before he responded. “Bring her in. I need to talk to her.” His tone left no question regarding the seriousness of his request.
I turned to head for the same door I only a minute before came through. Glancing towards my host, Dom, I saw the same polite smile on his face displaying nothing to indicate that he wasn’t in agreement with his brother’s directive.
Less than five minutes later I returned to the same spot in the house with a highly irritated, but now amazingly quiet, Mary June in tow.
“Here she is Judge,” I said in an unintended tone of voice consistent with one offering up a sacrificial proxy.
I think Mary June recognized my cowardly ploy because she turned and gave me the evilest of stares I hoped never to see again. Yet, given the alternative of incurring the Judge’s ill will or her harsh scolding, I wagered hers gave me a better chance of keeping my rear end intact.
The Judge did not wait for introductions. “Do you know who I am?” he asked looking directly at Mary June.
Mary June collected her wits and responded with no hint of fear, “Yes, I do. You’re Judge Lucas Brazzi, the Circuit Court Judge of Jones County.”
“Very good,” he said as he turned his attention back towards me. “So far the information I have received from Mr. Clayton gives me cause to suspect serious crimes are being committed in Jones County by certain parties. Therefore, as the highest court officer in Jones County, which has original jurisdiction over matters such as this, I intend to request assistance from the State of Kansas Attorney General’s office. The potential scope of this matter, I believe, requires greater investigative resources than we have available to us at this time. Therefore, until such time in the future as I deem appropriate, I, in my capacity as chief officer of the court in Jones County, order you both to cease and desist, forthwith, from discussing this matter further, at any place and at any time and with any person. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”
Both Mary June and I looked to one another briefly before we answered in unison. “Yes, I understand.”
“Excellent,” responded the Judge. “Now, who else knows about this except you two?”
I looked at Mary June. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?” I asked.
“Not a person,” she responded.
“I haven’t told anyone else either so that just leaves the Mayor, and I doubt he has told anyone. He’s extremely nervous about this whole thing. That’s why he came to a complete outsider like me. He said he did not know whom to trust. He’s expecting a call as soon as we get back to town.” I awaited the Judge’s next instructions. My relief over finally having someone with authority take the burden of this whole thing off my back increased by the minute.
“My order includes any future conversations about this matter with the Mayor. I will contact the Mayor as soon as this meeting is concluded and give him the same instructions. I intend to stop by the diner whenever time permits to enjoy the much improved menu that I understand is mostly the results of your personal efforts, Will. So my inst
ructions will apply there also. Any questions?”
I looked at Mary June, and she shook her head indicating she had none. Neither did I, but I did want to make one correction. “Judge, I have only one clarification relating to everything I’ve heard, and that is to correct you in attributing all the improvements at the diner to me. Mary June and Flo have contributed as much, if not more than I have. As a matter of fact, I believe you have taken a personal liking to Mary June’s homemade pies.”
I looked to Mary June to see if she approved of my obvious self-serving act of gallantry and was surprised to see her earlier scowl change into a pleasant smile. Good, I thought, maybe that will make up for my having earlier thrown her under the bus.
“Have you ever run for public office, Will? I believe I detect some natural political instincts in you. A very nice save indeed,” the Judge actually displayed a hint of a smile when he said this.
I tried to catch sight of Mary June’s reaction to the Judge’s comment by shifting my eyes instead of being more obvious and turning my head. I could tell she was staring straight at the side of my head. The Judge had revealed my true intentions and from what little I could see of Mary June’s glare, I had been busted. Damn!
Assuming the instructions were complete, I had one further question. “Do you have any idea how long this whole process will take? The reason I ask is it seems I can’t go out the door without catching sight of Big Bob paying much too close attention to my activities. I don’t know how he could know anything about what we’re doing, but it’s still unnerving.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you there at the present. I will be in contact with the state offices tomorrow to request assistance, but I have no idea as to what form that will take and how long it will be before they come forward prepared to file charges, assuming that’s what happens.”
The ‘assuming that’s what happens’ part of his response threw me. “I’m sorry, but what do you mean by, ‘assuming that’s what happens?’ This looks like an open and shut case to me.”
The Judge pondered my question for a moment before he responded, “Will, when you’ve been around the legal system for as long as I have, you never take anything for granted. While I admit that the evidence here is almost overwhelming on the surface, there is a long way to go before someone ends up in jail. In my opinion, that’s exactly as it should be. Otherwise, many innocent people could end up in a jail. Our system does move slowly at times, but that’s because our efforts to protect the innocent supersedes all else.”
What he said made sense to me. I looked over to Mary June to get her reaction and she, too, nodded her head in agreement with the Judge.
“Well, if that’s all, we’ll go back to town and—” I started to say before our host cut in.
“Please don’t leave just yet. I’ve prepared cookies and coffee. Won’t you two stay so we can talk a bit? You probably know I don’t get much company out here. That’s my fault, of course. I generally don’t care for most people and their narrow mindedness, but you two are obviously different. It won’t take but a moment to bring everything in.”
Both Mary June and I looked to one another before we answered. Her expression indicated she was okay with the idea, and I, having gotten braver by the moment once I realized the two Brazzi brothers were human beings after all, saw no reason to disagree.
“Sure,” we answered simultaneously.
“Wonderful,” answered an obviously elated Dom. “Mary June, perhaps you would be so kind to help me. It will give me a chance to show you my Sevres porcelain collection. I couldn’t help but notice you glancing at our mother’s antique oak curio cabinet across the room. Our mother left that to me in safe keeping for both my brother and myself. Fortunately for me, Luke and his wonderful bride have never taken a fancy to such delicate novelties. Let me show you.”
Finding myself alone with the Judge sent a sudden shiver down my spine. My brain went into overdrive to come up with some inoffensive topic to break the uncomfortable silence. But try as I might, I had nothing. Right as I intended to excuse myself to follow Mary June and Dom in the direction of the curio cabinet the Judge spoke up.
“Why don’t we watch some baseball?” said the Judge.
“Great idea,” I replied as if I would even think about disagreeing.
It wasn’t long before I realized why I had, like so many others, given up on the Kansas City team. They sucked. I knew I was being somewhat harsh. So they couldn’t hit or pitch or field, but they looked good running on and off the field. Unfortunately, they spent much more time on the field than off. I never held myself out as an expert, but I felt pretty sure being on the field was not a good thing. Two very bad things happen when your team is on the field for extended periods of time: one is the other team is putting men on base and scoring runs, and two, you’re not.
“Here we are gentlemen,” announced Dom as he came back into the room carrying a plate of chocolate chip cookies, followed by Mary June carrying a tray loaded with a pot of coffee and cups. Both he and Mary June set their cargo of goodies upon the coffee table located to the front of where the television spectators sat. Soon all were served, and Mary June and Dom returned to the oak curio cabinet.
To my great relief, the Judge barely noticed the intrusion and went on observing the two bottom division teams continue their charade as professional baseball players. Not one time, while I sat there, did the man display any noticeable prejudice towards the few successes or the many failures of either team.
I thought about getting up and going over to where the other two busied themselves inspecting the items displayed in the glass cabinet Dom was so proud of.
I gave the thought up as I soon realized I could enjoy the best of both worlds from right where I sat. Where I was, I had delicious coffee with tasty cookies while the Judge acted completely unaware of my existence. Over there, they were using words that had no meaning to me. Words and sounds actually. I heard Dom say, “This is my favorite piece. It’s a Sevres porcelain jewelry box with Ormolu edging. The romantic scenes on the sides and lid are hand painted. I’m especially fond of the mottled blue glaze coating.”
Then Mary June took the words out of my mouth by asking, “What does Ormolu mean, or what is it?”
“Ah, yes,” answered Dom. “Ormolu is essentially imitation gold. It’s a mixture of copper, tin, or zinc although they can’t use zinc now for obvious reasons, and it’s gilded with powdered gold. This particular piece was made in the early nineteenth century, so I expect it does contain the zinc mixture.”
“This wonderful porcelain piece on the shelf below was also manufactured in the Sevres facility located in Chantilly, France, during the early to mid part of the nineteenth century,” said Dom as he carried on with his tour of the oak curio cabinet. “It’s a dresser box or some would call it a glove box, and it, likewise, has the Ormolu edging and hinges. I’m especially fond of the hand painted scene of the lovely young lady in the garden on the lid.”
I listened to a couple more of Mary June’s ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ before I turned my attention away from the porcelain snobs and back towards the non-game still underway on the tube. I thought about how differently things turned out. What started out earlier as an intimidating undertaking confronting my now mostly out of my control existence, turned out to be mostly a snoozer. I had to fight to keep from nodding off as the ballgame announcers tried in vain to make the game sound interesting. The Judge had not moved a muscle. The coffee and cookies before him on the coffee table were only partially consumed.
“I guess I’m ready if you are Will,” came the sound of Mary June’s voice from over my sagging shoulders. Just in time, too, because I was fading fast. Two more minutes and I would have started snoring.
“Oh, sure. I’m ready if you are,” I said to the two porcelain admirers as I rose from my seat.
“Will, I’m so glad the two of you came to my home today,” said Dom. “I hope you will visit again soon. I know I’ll be seeing Mary
June again soon. I have many more boxes of antique items she’s interested in seeing. Fortunately, most of those items are stored in the boxes on the front porch. I hope you will continue to respect my desire for privacy by not revealing the UB2 ploy that has worked so well for me. Likewise that goes for my familial relationship with Judge Brazzi. I’m sure I can count on your discretion.”
We concluded our goodbyes and headed for the front door. A last glance towards the Judge staring at the television screen verified my suspicion that he held no interest in further conversation. Not a word passed between Mary June and myself until we both felt the reassuring material of the VW’s car seats under our rear ends.
“Wasn’t he just the nicest person you’ve ever met?” offered Mary June when the VW started down the long gravel drive towards the highway.
I thought about her statement. I, too, felt relieved we were alive and being permitted to return to some semblance of our, not normal, lives. But I obviously hadn’t been taken in by all the cookies and antique porcelain as she had. We were now under official court order to not discuss matters that were of vital importance to our personal safety. What happens if Big Bob decides to take matters into his own hands and comes by with some of his Water Department mafia? Am I supposed to contact the Judge first? I don’t think so.
“And did you see how nicely done the inside of that old house was?” asked Mary June. “It’s like a brand new home inside while it looks like an absolute dump outside. Talk about having the entire community fooled. Boy does he!”
“Byzantine!” I said aloud to myself as Mary June took a hard right onto the gravel road to retrace our original circuitous route from Jonesboro to the Brazzi brother’s farm.
“What?” asked my confused driver.
“I said Byzantine! It’s a Byzantine nightmare we are living in.”
“What’s a Byzantine?” asked an obviously vexed Mary June as the VW’s tires threw loose rocks towards the underside of our vehicle.
“It means complicated, devious, or underhanded. And that describes our lives at the moment. We presently exist in a twenty-first century version of a Byzantine nightmare surrounded by deceit, greed, and danger. Worst of all, we are not even the main players. We’re merely bit players caught up in something that is getting way over our heads.”
Chapter Twenty-four
