Primary Justice

by Dave Conifer

  He pushed the door closed and retreated into the room where he flopped back onto the bed. The room was his for another twenty-four hours, and he planned to spend a good number of them fast asleep. Sprawled flat with his mouth pushed open, he saw the cell phone and wondered if anybody had tried to call while he’d been unconscious.

  ~~~

  A phone call did wake him several hours later, but not the cell. By the third ring he realized that it was the room phone that had interrupted his nap. He rolled onto his back and stretched far enough to pick up the receiver.

  “Is this Billy Fargo?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

  “That’s me,” he croaked. “What do you want?” It occurred to him that the maid must have pocketed the money he’d given her instead of using it to buy him another night. Now somebody was calling to tell him to pay up or get out.

  “I got something you might be interested in,” the man said. “You’re the guy who got busted for killing that girl under the bridge, right?” This was no motel manager, Fargo now knew.

  “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” he heard himself saying. He wished he had something to drink besides beer, and a few aspirin to go with it.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t get cute. You got no reason to.”

  “I didn’t kill nobody. What’s it to you?”

  “What’s it to me? What do you care?” the voice challenged. “I have information. You want it. I’m going to give it you. End of story.”

  “Okay,” Fargo said. “I’m listening, so if you’re gonna give it to me, give it to me.”

  “I can’t. Not over the phone. It’s boxes of records. The ones you asked for but didn’t get. I know all about that.”

  “This sounds like a load of crap, but I’ll go for it,” Fargo said. “When can I get this stuff?”

  “Right now, if you want it,” the voice told him. “You can come pick it up.”

  “Where?”

  “You know where Sesame Place is?”

  “Never heard of it,” Fargo answered.

  “It’s in Langhorne. That’s where I-95 and Route 1 intersect. Sesame Place. You know, they got the water tower with Big Bird on it? I’m looking at it right now. I’m at the Westin Hotel just outside the park.”

  “You mean over in Pennsylvania? Listen, man, you seem to know a lot about me,” Fargo said. “You sure as hell know that I ain’t allowed out of state. Can’t you bring it a little closer?”

  “Yeah, maybe sometime,” the voice responded. “Eventually I might get around to it. How about this? I’ll get back to you next time I’m in Jersey.”

  “What about tonight? You’re right across the river!”

  “Can’t. I’ll get back to you sometime. Hey, Billy, you have a good night, okay?”

  “Wait! Don’t hang up!” Fargo shouted into the phone. “I’ll come. I’m right on top of Route 1 right now. Just tell me how to find you once I get there.”

  ~~~

  His head hurt too much to leave right away, so he didn’t. As intrigued as he was, whatever this man had could wait a few extra minutes while he tried to do something about his aching head and parched throat. He wasn’t giving up that room without taking at least one long, hot shower. As he stripped off his clothes and turned on the water he wondered why he’d waited so long to take one.

  It had something to do with that cop, he decided as soapy water poured off his body and glugged down the drain. That was the weirdest part of the case. Cases, he corrected himself. If there was any mystery about what had happened, it had to be all about that cop. The suds that collected on the face of his brand new ankle bracelet reminded him of the risk he’d be taking by going to Langhorne, home of Big Bird. Even if nobody was tracking his movement at the moment, he knew there’d be a permanent record somewhere showing that just a day after the bracelet was locked onto him, he’d violated his parole. As badly as he wanted to, he couldn’t go over and meet this guy. If he went, there was a good chance he’d be back at West Penn before the week was out. The guy did say something about bringing whatever he had to New Jersey. Was it worth the wait? Too anxious to enjoy the shower anymore, he rinsed the soap away and turned the water off. Russ Bismarck would know what to do.

  “Billy! Where the hell have you been?” Bismarck growled after Fargo dialed him up on the cell phone. “Everybody’s worried sick about you! What the hell?”

  “They are?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m still in Trenton,” Fargo explained. “They found out where I was staying, you know, with you and Joanie, and they called me out on it. Now I got an electric bracelet on my leg that tells them where I go, so I couldn’t come back. I’m in a motel by the train station. But listen, I--”

  “Joanie’s been trying to call you. So have I. Why can’t you answer your damn calls?”

  “Russ, I ain’t got time for this,” Fargo said. “Something’s happening. I just got this phone call right here on the room phone. Now I don’t know what to do.” He explained everything that had been said over the phone. “He gave me his room number but he won’t be there for much longer. I was thinking maybe you could go instead. Maybe he’d give it you.”

  “He called you on the motel phone?” Bismarck asked.

  “Yup.”

  “What did it say on caller ID?”

  “I don’t think this phone even has that.”

  “Something’s not right, Billy,” Bismarck said. “Think about it. How did he get the motel number? Did you tell anybody you were going there?”

  Fargo cocked his head as he replayed the previous afternoon. “Nope. I didn’t know where the hell to go, seein’ as I couldn’t go back home. Then I saw this place and pulled in. Spur of the moment. Nobody knew. Not even me.”

  “Well, I hear what you’re saying, but it sure as hell looks like somebody did.”

  -- Chapter 9 --

  Fargo walked back over to the window with the phone in his ear. The lights of the city were coming on. He’d been in the room for a long time now, long enough for two sunsets across the river. “Yeah, sure looks that way, don’t it?”

  “Think it through, Billy. Who could have known you were there?”

  “I told you, nobody,” Fargo insisted. “I didn’t even know myself until I saw the place.” He took his eyes off the bridge. There was only so much to see. “I didn’t know where I was going.”

  “What about that ankle bracelet?” Bismarck asked. “The whole point of it is for somebody to know where you are.”

  “I thought of that,” Fargo said. “But the people who know about that don’t care enough to do nothin’ like this.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Bismarck answered, “and neither is Ricky.”

  “It wouldn’t make no sense. If they want to mess with me, they don’t need to go to that much trouble.”

  “There’s got to be something we’re not seeing.”

  “So can you go meet this guy for me?” Fargo asked. “I’ll never ask you for nothin’ again, I swear.”

  “I’m more worried about what you’re gonna do than some knucklehead in Bensalem,” Bismarck said.

  “Langhorne,” corrected Fargo. “He said Langhorne. Come on, Russ, we have to see what this is about, don’t you think?”

  “I guess it can’t hurt, but I doubt they’d give anything to me. How about I swing by Langhorne on the way up to wherever you’re at? You and me need some face time. I’ll bring Joanie.”

  “Don’t bother,” Fargo said. “She’s done with me. If I ever get back over there, I’m grabbing my stuff and taking off. I ain’t staying there no more if she don’t want me.”

  “Give her a break, Billy. She’s had a fucked up life just like you have.”

  Fargo gave Bismarck the mystery caller’s contact information, as well as his own at the motel, before turning him loose. He had another call to make.

  “Yeah, can you get me the Westin Hotel in Langhorne?” he asked the operator. Next th
ing he knew, some lady at the front desk of the Westin was asking how she could help him.

  “Can you tell me who’s stayin’ in room 621? I need to mail him some papers.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t give out information about our guests. I can’t help you with that.”

  “But he just called me,” Fargo protested. “He’s waitin’ for me.”

  “It’s hotel policy,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “What am I supposed to do? He just called me. He didn’t give me his number but I need to talk to him.”

  “I’ll tell you what I can do,” she offered. “I’ll connect you to his room and you can talk to him yourself.”

  He didn’t see any point in that. If the man was going to say over the phone who he was or how he knew what he knew, he’d already have done it the first time. At least he knew Bismarck would be dropping by Langhorne before long. He hung up the phone without another word and looked for a way to pass the time until Bismarck arrived, hopefully with a pack of very interesting paperwork.

  The TV was the obvious answer, even though he didn’t recognize anybody or anything he saw the few times he’d turned one on since getting out. Pacing back and forth with the remote in his hand, he flipped channels between local news, reruns of a lame Charlie Sheen show and something about lions chasing a herd of brown animals God knows where. Probably Africa or something. Each time he got interested in anything, a commercial for some blow-dried politician came on, each trying to outdo the other in showing how much he cared about the little people. Every ad ended with a reminder to vote in the upcoming primaries, which were apparently going to happen real soon.

  ~~~

  “What happened?” he demanded when Bismarck appeared at the door two hours later. “Did you get the stuff?” he asked as he pulled the door open.

  “Hold on. Joanie and her boss are here.”

  “What did they come for?” Fargo asked as if he was annoyed, but he was glad for the extra company. He peeked down the hall in time to see Joanie and Ricky Willmar walking towards them in the sterile hallway. He thought he saw her smile, but it was hard to tell with the cigarette clamped between her lips. He wasn’t sure why he looked away instead of returning the smile. Rather than stand there waiting, he went back into the room and resumed pacing.

  “Hi Billy,” Joanie said, pecking him on the cheek with her hand brushing across his chest. “You okay?” The maid hadn’t come back all day after taking his money, but at least he’d scooped up the beer bottles and dumped them in a trash barrel near the ice machine. A room full of empties would have given them too much to talk about.

  “I’m good,” he said. “Could be worse, I guess.”

  “I was so worried,” she said. “You didn’t sound so hot last night.”

  “Hey, Billy,” Willmar said. “I hope you don’t mind me showing up. I’ve been doing some digging for you and I thought I should tell you about it.”

  “No problem. Hey, what happened at that hotel?” Fargo asked again when Bismarck had closed the door and joined them.

  He took a seat on the corner of the bed. “Nothing. Nothing happened. There’s nobody in that room. We banged on the door for a few minutes, and then we went down to the lobby to leave a message.”

  “We? You all went? That’s why. He was expecting me to come alone.”

  “There’s nobody there, Billy,” Bismarck explained. “They told us at the desk that the room hasn’t been occupied in days.”

  “It was bogus,” Willmar said. “Somebody was trying to get you to cross the river. Now we have to figure out why.”

  “More like who,” Bismarck said. “I think we know why.”

  “Damn. Damn. Are you sure you had the right room?” Fargo asked. “What the fuck.”

  “There’s only one room 621,” Willmar said.

  “So who called me?” Fargo asked. “What happened here? Whoever it was, he knew a lot of shit about me.”

  “Am I allowed to smoke in here?” Joanie asked, clawing through her pocketbook.

  “It says ‘Non-smoking Room’ on the back of the door,” Fargo said. “But I won’t tell nobody.”

  “We were talking in the car on the way over,” Bismarck said. “Look at it this way. What do you think would have happened if you were dumb enough to take the bait and drive over there yourself?”

  “With my luck? I’d get busted for parole. I’m not allowed out of Jersey anymore.”

  “That’s exactly what popped into our heads,” Willmar told him. “And there’s no luck about it. Especially with that slick new bracelet you’re wearing. Hey, can I see it? I heard they upgraded.” Fargo stepped onto the bed and pulled up the leg of his pants. Willmar whistled. “Sweet. They get smaller every year.”

  “And what would happen after that?” Bismarck interrupted. “After you got busted? It’d be back to prison for you. That’s what this was all about. So think, Billy, think. Who would want that? Who hoped you’d get suckered into breaking your parole? And who knew about the ankle bracelet? Because that’s who knew how easy it would be to set you up.”

  Fargo’s face twisted with thought. “There just ain’t anybody who gives two shits about me, either way. Maybe Kevin Morris. He’s one of the few people who knows I got out, and he looks pissed off every time I keep showin’ up.”

  “Who else?”

  “But Kevin’s a deacon in his church,” Fargo continued. “I don’t know if he’d do that to me, even if he does hate my ass.”

  “Anybody else?” Bismarck repeated.

  “Like I said, hardly anybody knows I’m out. Lemme’ think.”

  “Don’t bother,” Willmar said. “We’re barking up the wrong tree here. Who was it that knew where to call to talk you into breaking parole? They didn’t find you because you told somebody where you were going. The answer is right there on your leg.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Fargo said. “You think my parole officer’s settin’ me up?”

  “Well, somebody is,” Willmar answered. “It might be hard to believe, but facts are facts. That bracelet’s the only way anybody could know where you were. I don’t know who gets the data that thing collects, but somebody’s passing it around.”

  “Maybe you should tell him what you’ve been up to,” Joanie said, looking at Willmar. “Something else we talked about on the way here.”

  “I’ve been checking out Ryne Colfax,” Willmar said. “The cop. Something’s up with that dude. As soon as word got out that I’m asking questions, I heard from quite a few folks. They all read me the riot act. Seems like somebody doesn’t want us talking about Colfax, at least when your name comes up in the same sentence.”

  “Like who?” Fargo asked.

  “Somebody in the state attorney general’s office, for one,” Willmar answered. “I also got some unfriendly phone calls from the prosecutors. If I don’t shut my mouth, I could lose my privilege to run bail bonds. They’d suspend us and start an investigation that never ends, which means our license never gets unsuspended. Now, assuming they’re not just blowing smoke, that’s pretty heavy. That’s a serious threat there. Do you know how much clout it would take to make that happen?”

  “I don’t even know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about,” Fargo said.

  “Colfax is pretty high up in Homeland Security. They’re under the attorney general,” Willmar reminded them. “Maybe it’s a stretch to think he’d have that kind of authority, but he’s probably in the ball park. And he’s hooked into the right part of the government to get it done. I’m just shocked as hell that he’s doing it, if he is.”

  “Maybe he’s got a good reason we don’t know about,” Fargo said. “I always told the same story. I didn’t kill that girl and I had nothing to do with that fire. I’m guessin’ that the cop knows who did.”

  “Maybe he did it,” Bismarck said. “He was at both places. That would sure as hell be a reason for wanting you back in prison where you couldn’t talk.”

  Joanie w
alked over to where he was standing at the window. “There are a lot of people watching. Guess you better keep your nose clean, Billy.”

  “I already been doin’ that, and look where it got me.”

  “You know, this is damn scary,” Bismarck said. “They make bugging gadgets a lot smaller than that ankle bracelet. Who’s to say it doesn’t have a little microphone, or even a camera? Could they do that? Somebody could be listening to us or watching us right now.”

  Nobody said anything, as though they felt a sudden urge to measure their words carefully. “Hello out there!” Willmar finally yelled, breaking the tension enough to make everybody else laugh.

  “Ankle cam,” said Joanie.

  “Are you staying here tonight?” Bismarck asked Fargo.

  “Might as well,” he said. “It’s paid for. Tonight, at least.”

  “How about after that?” Joanie asked.

  He shook his head with a shrug. “I got no idea. The money’s running out faster than I expected. I’ll worry about it in the morning. My parole officer thought I should go stay in a halfway house. They got programs and shit.”

  “No way,” Bismarck said. “We already went through that. Nobody there but a bunch of nothings, all on their way back to prison.”

  They talked for a few more minutes, until there was nothing more to say. Fargo was surprised when he realized he was sad to see them go. They were probably the only people around who cared that he was alive. Except for the mystery man from the Westin Hotel in Langhorne.

  ~~~

  He was pretty sure there were two of those stale ham sandwiches lying around somewhere in the room, but he could do better than that. Hot food was what he craved at the moment and it was still early enough to make that happen. He cleaned himself up as best he could and walked down to the lobby, but it turned out that an in-house restaurant wasn’t a standard feature for Motel Six. Shoulda’ bought a coat when I was out, he thought as he jammed his hands into his pockets and lumbered across the street to the train station.

  There were several places to eat over there. He bypassed the one where a hostess stood on guard, walked past Starbucks, because he wasn’t sure if it was even a restaurant, and grabbed a tray at a cafeteria because eating off a tray felt familiar. The fluorescent lighting burned his tired eyes, probably because he hadn’t slept well the night before once the buzz had worn off and the hangover started. He passed through the ala carte line grabbing, nodding and pointing until he had an appetizing mix of steaming, gravy-soaked food and a hot cup of coffee on the unwieldy tray.