Primary Justice

by Dave Conifer

  He crossed Philadelphia city limits a little after two o’clock and rolled onto Gillespie Street ten minutes later. There didn’t seem to be anybody around. Certainly no police, not like when they had the stakeout at Burger King the last time he was there. He might be okay, he told himself, as long as he didn’t stay for more than a few minutes.

  The door to Bismarck’s row house flew open as Fargo hopped up the steps, so he slipped inside without breaking stride. Joanie was there, too. She rushed to his side but didn’t touch him. “Oh, Billy. Are you okay, hon?”

  “Did you get rid of the tracker bracelet?” Bismarck asked.

  “It’s in the river by now.”

  “Good. But you can’t stay here. This is the first place they’ll check.” He looked over at Joanie. “You’ll have to take her car. I’ll dump yours at the same place I left the other one. That okay with you, Joanie?”

  She shrugged. “I guess so. I’ll never see it again, will I?”

  “Sorry,” Fargo said to her. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Forget it,” she said. “Uncle Russ can get me another one, same as he got me that one.” She held out two plastic bags from Target. “I bought you some clothes. And a coat.”

  “Where can I go?” Fargo asked Bismarck.

  “I got just the place. Willmar does, actually. He knows somebody with a cabin out in the woods. It’s perfect,” he said. “Out in the middle of nowhere. Compared to here, anyway. We gotta’ get you away from civilization.”

  “Forever?” Fargo asked.

  “You busted parole big time,” Bismarck said. “When they catch you, well, I don’t have to say it.”

  “Don’t.”

  “There’s something you should know about, Billy,” Bismarck warned. “This hideout’s back in New Jersey.”

  “What! Are you fuckin’ crazy? I can’t set foot back in Jersey! They’ll grab my ass!”

  “You’re not wearing that ankle bracelet anymore, don’t forget that,” Bismarck said. “And you’d be right inside the border. Practically on top of the river. It’s by Lambertville. That’s in West Bumfuck, up in Hunterdon County. If you get scared, you’ll be two minutes from the border.”

  “No way, Russ. It’s still in Jersey.”

  “Think about it. They know you crossed the river, right? They’d never guess that you crossed back,” Bismarck argued. “If there’s one place they’ll never look for you, it’s back in New Jersey, right? And it won’t be long before this is bigger than just Jersey.”

  Fargo sighed and flopped backward onto the couch because he thought his knees were about to give out. “Okay, I’ll go,” he said. “Maybe you’re right. And I gotta’ hide somewhere.”

  “We’ll get you there on back roads,” Bismarck promised.

  “Fuck,” Fargo said, putting his head in his hands. “Why did I do this? I didn’t have no time to think it through. Not even a fuckin’ second. I shouldn’t have run.”

  Joanie walked over and sat down with him. “Look at it this way,” she said, putting her arm around his waist. “Why do you think they were calling you in? Russ told you about that, right?”

  “Yeah, don’t forget about that,” Bismarck said. “Somebody’s after you. Somebody higher up than that goddamned crooked cop. Way higher. No cop could get that case opened back up and get you hooked as the top suspect. You were going back inside one way or another, because they were about to charge you with murder.”

  “All I want is to be left alone,” Fargo said. “That’s all, man.”

  “That’s not what you said when you came here after getting out,” Bismarck said. “You were on fire. You were all set to go after that cop. I tried to settle you down but you wouldn’t listen. That’s what’s done you in here.”

  “That was so long ago,” Fargo said. “I can’t even remember feeling like that.”

  “It was about a week ago.”

  “I don’t mean it that way. It’s like I was a different person or something. I didn’t how hard life was gonna be out here.”

  “You still got your phone?” Bismarck asked.

  “Yeah, but the battery’s dead.”

  “Get your ass in Joanie’s car and plug it in. I’ll get directions and talk you out to Lambertville over the phone.”

  “I don’t want anymore phones,” Fargo told him. “Just tell me how to get there. I bet they can track me by one of them things, same as the ankle bracelet.”

  “You have to,” Bismarck protested. “I was going to call Ricky for directions. I don’t know how to get there.”

  “I do,” Joanie said. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you in the car and you can drop me at the office.” She handed him her keys. “You may as well drive. It’s yours now.”

  “Thanks,” he said, standing up.

  “Billy, make sure to keep your speed down,” Bismarck reminded him. “You can’t afford to get pulled over now. They don’t know where you are. You want to keep it that way as long as you can. Forever would be good.”

  ~~~

  “I was actually thinking maybe I’d take you all the way to the cabin,” Joanie said when they turned onto Broad Street. “I know how to get there, and you can’t afford to get lost.”

  “I can do it,” Fargo answered, but he liked the idea.

  “I don’t mind. And if I take the car with me when I leave, the place will look abandoned. You’ll be less noticeable.”

  “But then I won’t have a car,” Fargo pointed out.

  “Were you going anywhere?” she asked.

  “I guess not. Maybe you’re right,” he conceded. “I don’t suppose this place has a computer and an internet hookup.”

  “I’ll grab a computer at the office for you,” she said after taking one last drag on a cigarette and tossing the butt out the window. “I don’t know about the internet.”

  “What in hell happened here?” Fargo asked when they reached the office on Broad Street and he got his first look at the plywood where the glass window should have been.

  “Somebody took a semi-automatic to the place the other night,” she said. “We got a lot of enemies out there. We deal with a lot of rough people that do crazy shit sometimes. We have insurance for this kind of thing.”

  He examined the plywood that had been nailed over the shattered window. Somebody had scrawled ‘Willmar and Karlstad’ across it. “Hey Joanie, how come I never met this Karlstad guy? I never seen him even once.”

  She smiled as he eased the Honda to the curb a few doors down from the office. “He doesn’t come around much anymore after he got shot in the leg about a year ago. Ricky keeps paying him anyway.” She pushed the door open to get out. “I’ll be back, and then we better get on the road.”

  ~~~

  It seemed like only a minute passed before she was back out on the sidewalk. The black case under her arm had to be a computer, but he didn’t ask. “Let’s go,” she said. “Just stay on Broad Street. We’re gonna be on it for a long way. It turns into a country road once we get out of the city.”

  “I hope nobody’s looking for me yet,” he said once they were on the move again. “And I hope we’re not making a big mistake going back to Jersey.”

  “Ricky wanted to come,” she said. “I talked him out of it. I don’t think the bad guys know me, but they sure as hell know him. He thinks that’s why somebody shot the place up. If he came, we might be leading them directly to your hideout.”

  “I hope it wasn’t because of me.”

  “By the way,” she said. “I keep meaning to tell you this. I gave him all those papers you left in the car. I guess they were about your case, right? I hope that’s all right.”

  “That’s good,” Fargo said. “They weren’t doing me any good where they were.”

  “Ricky said he found something you might be interested in. That’s why he wanted to come with us. You don’t mind if I have a smoke, do you?” She’d already slipped a cigarette between her lips and was fumbling with a lighter.

  �
�It’s your car,” he said.

  Neither of them spoke for some time as they watched the scenery change from urban blight to the grimy inner suburbs as they crossed the boundary from Philadelphia into Montgomery County. The further they went, the more bucolic the surroundings became. There were nothing but brown fields, all plowed under for the winter, when they hit Bucks County. By the time they’d passed through Jenkintown, Willow Grove and beneath the Pennsylvania Turnpike, long after Broad Street was known simply as Route 611, they were surrounded by farmland, gas stations and convenience stores. The open space helped calm Fargo’s nerves. It occurred to him that it would be safer if Joanie was driving, but it was too late now.

  “We’re getting off 611 in Doylestown,” Joanie said. “Look for Buckingham Street.” It came up immediately after she said it. “This takes us all the way back to the river. There’s a bridge between New Hope and Lambertville. Then we’re there.”

  “Kinda’ nice out here,” Fargo said. “It feels good.”

  “New Hope is a fun little town, too,” Joanie said. “Especially for girls.”

  It was a busy little burg, as it turned out. Even the shops looked interesting, except for ones with piles of rusty junk out front. “Antique stores,” he mumbled under his breath. “Looks more like a garage sale.”

  “Or an eviction. I usually skip those, too,” agreed Joanie. “Especially in this weather.”

  After a few quick turns they were at the river. Gray jags of ice lined the banks where the current wasn’t strong enough to break them up. Although the river looked as permanent as it did down in Trenton and Philly, it was much narrower and browner. “Hard to believe this is the same river,” he remarked.

  The ‘Welcome to New Jersey’ sign upset him less than he expected. Bismarck was right. If anybody was out looking for him, it wouldn’t be here. “Get through downtown and turn right when this street ends.”

  “This ain’t bad at all,” he said. “Seems like a damn good place to hide.”

  The forest was already encroaching before they made the first turn, south on Old York Road. After that they made a quick left on Quarry Street and suddenly they were out of town and under a thick brown winter canopy. “Go left on the dirt road,” she instructed him. “Then we’re there.”

  It was perfect. Nobody who didn’t already know the cabin was there would ever find it, but he was near enough to the two little towns that he could probably get anything he needed if he was careful. “How do you know about this place?” he asked suspiciously.

  “I’ve never been in the kind of trouble you’re in right now,” she answered, “but my life hasn’t been a fairy tale either. I’ve hidden here a few times myself. I think you’ll like it here.”

  -- Chapter 13 --

  Kevin Morris had mixed feelings when he saw the image of a grinning Mike Minot walk across the screen of the LCD television that hung on the living room wall. He liked Minot’s politics, but from what he knew, the man was a snake. Only a few years removed from two terms in Drumthwackett, the New Jersey Governor’s Mansion in Princeton, Minot was currently in the thick of it for the Republican nomination for the presidential election, which was less than a year away. Kevin thought Minot had a shot at winning, and so did a lot of other people, particularly in the media. Minot was on the extreme right wing, but according to the pundits there were a lot of Americans who were angry about what Minot called ‘the culture of entitlement’ and he was riding the backlash for all it was worth.

  Kevin had read that Minot had a mean streak that put a lot of people off after the charm wore away, and he wondered when that would happen. Could Minot win it all? He wasn’t sure. If not, at least the VP slot on the ticket was within reach. He would be the perfect counterpart for the more moderate candidates who wanted to muscle up for the rest of the primaries. That night’s debate was one of the last chances for the candidates to talk directly to the voters before the Super Tuesday Primaries which would be held in nine states. It ought to be good.

  “They look like a bunch of sharks,” Arria commented after walking in. “I wouldn’t trust any of them to wash my car.”

  “Couldn’t you say the same about your Democrats?” Kevin asked.

  “Not all of them,” she said.

  “Politicians are politicians,” Kevin said. “These people didn’t get onto that stage by balancing budgets or voting with their consciences. Same for both parties. They’ve all got something in their past that they don’t want us to know about, Arria.”

  She stared at the dapper candidates, now holding hands and waving at the crowd in the auditorium at Northwestern University, which was hosting the debate as a prelude to the upcoming Illinois primary. “Maybe so. Litchfield is all right, I guess. Marshall’s a little scary. Can you imagine him having his hand on the nuclear button? But most of those people I never even heard of. Aren’t you sick of Minot after eight years?”

  “The person, maybe, but I like his message,” Kevin said. “Lean and mean.”

  “Lean and mean?” she said with a laugh. “He’ll be throwing money around just like the rest of them. Don’t fall for that rap.”

  “You gonna watch it with me? It’s a big tent. You might be surprised.”

  “Maybe I’ll sit through the first few minutes,” she said. “Just for the entertainment. It’s not like any of these jokers has a shot against my man. And he’s already in the White House.”

  ~~~

  “There’s nothing here,” Joanie said after they’d looked around for a few minutes. “It’s like nobody’s ever lived here before. But at least somebody’s paying the electric bill. I’m going out to get you some stuff. Why don’t you make sure the kitchen’s set up? The refrigerator doesn’t seem to be plugged in. I hope the gas is on.”

  “Lemme’ give you some money, then,” Fargo said. “You’re spendin’ too much on me as it is.”

  She waved him off. “Save your money. You might need it.”

  He snorted. “For what? I’m either going to hell or back to prison. I won’t need money in either place.”

  “What are you talking about? It’ll work out. I’ll be right back. And see if you can get the heat going while I’m gone. I can see my breath in here.”

  The refrigerator’s dormant compressor groaned to life after he plugged it in. He twisted some knobs on the dusty range and heard the hiss of gas, but didn’t bother trying to light any of the burners. Was there anything else she’d told him to check? He walked around the place and found a few blankets, which he tossed onto a stripped bed in a room in the back. There was a battered plastic thermostat on the wall. When he flicked the switch on the bottom he heard a furnace roar to life somewhere. Before long the cabin was filled with the smell of burning dust. He took that as a sign that the heat still worked.

  The place was dark and dirty. Even he, a man recently out of prison, noticed the layer of grime that coated everything. Hopefully she’d bring back some cleaning supplies. He’d probably need something to do, anyway. He could clean. What am I even doing here? Waiting for this to blow over? Because this ain’t blowing over. He hated that he didn’t have a plan.

  ~~~

  He was hunched over the laptop computer at the kitchen table when Joanie appeared in the doorway with two bulging paper grocery sacks clutched to her chest. “There’s a few more in the car,” she said after he hustled over and took them from her. While she busied herself putting things away he went out and fetched the rest. “I got us some takeout for dinner. I can’t stay late enough to cook nothin’. You like Chinese?”

  “Love it,” he said. He hadn’t had any in years, at least eleven, and couldn’t remember what it tasted like, but he was perfectly willing to fake it for her.

  “Let’s eat before it gets cold,” she suggested. “You can put all this stuff away later.” They spread the white cartons across the table, most of them still steaming. Fargo found some plates in a cabinet, rinsed them off at the sink, and brought them over. He started with the lo mein w
hile Joanie chose an egg roll.

  “So Joanie,” Fargo said after sucking a dangling noodle until it disappeared between his lips. “What were you sayin’ before? What were you hidin’ from when you were here?”

  She finished off the egg roll and took a drink from one of the bottled waters that the restaurant had provided. “Come on,” she said. “You don’t remember? I thought everybody knew.”

  “I hardly knew you back then, Joanie,” he said after wiping his mouth with a sleeve. “You just came by Russ’s place sometimes. That was all I ever saw of you.”

  She pulled a pack of cigarettes from a pocket and placed them on the table, but seemed to forget about them as soon as they were out of her hand. “I was married to an asshole, do you remember that? Beat the shit out of me anytime anything went wrong. Didn’t matter if I had nothin’ to do with it. I just got fed up after a while. By then I was working for Ricky. He felt sorry for me, so he sent me up to this place whenever I had to get away. I came here two or three times waiting for that man to sober up. Not that he was any kind of a treat when he wasn’t drunk.”

  He put his fork down and took a sip of his own water. “That sucks. I didn’t really know for sure.”

  “He’s gone now,” she said. “Hopefully for good. I don’t know where the hell he is. We’re still married, though.”

  He grabbed a handful of fried wontons and jammed them into his mouth. “You deserve better,” he said with his mouth full.

  She stared at him. When he reached for another handful she grabbed his wrist. “What did you say?”

  This time he swallowed before he spoke. “I said you deserve better, Joanie. You’re a good woman. I wish I knew you sooner.”

  When he saw the tears in her eyes he thought he’d said something wrong. She pushed back from the table and circled around to where he sat. “Get up,” she said, tugging on his shoulder. He replayed his words as he stood, trying to understand what had just happened.

  But nothing was wrong. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head in the crook of his shoulder. “Thank you, Billy,” she finally whispered. He almost said “You’re welcome,” but somehow he knew that would spoil the moment, so he said nothing. After a few more seconds passed she let go and they finished dinner.