Justifiable Homicide

by Waggoner, Robert C.

  Justifiable Homicide

  by Robert Waggoner

  Copyright 2013 Robert Waggoner

  Smashwords Edition

  “Justifiable Homicide”

  1.

  In Atlantic City at a police captains convention, a conversation between delegates, at first had a light tone and the deeper they went the more serious it became. The hotel rooms were open and people moved from one room to another. An observer to eight captains from the east to the west coast were only hearing whisky talk about the topic of conversation: the lack of the judicial system to put away and keep repeat offenders, such as drug dealers, drunk drivers who committed vehicular homicide, or any other defendant who used the power of high price lawyers to set them free.

  However as the night wore on the conversation took on a more grave topic until finally they all agreed to meet in Las Vegas in six months to continue seeking options to a very serious problem. The six men and two women agreed no discussion of this informal meeting ever be mentioned. Each also agreed to, without written documents, to have an idea of how to circumvent the judicial system that clearly had failed. It was time for action not talk.

  ***

  Robin Eggar sat in a Los Angeles tavern nursing a beer with no one near him. He lived close by and most every day after work he came in and ordered a beer. Two hours later it was still half full. No one talked to him since his wife died six months ago in pain from cancer, from a hospital that neglected to do their job. No one should die in pain from cancer, but this hospital failed miserably injecting her with low doses of morphine. Robin, day after day, until she finally passed on, had to listen to her cry out in pain as he begged everyone to help her. All pleas fell on deaf ears. From that moment on he vowed to take some of his own action; his first target was the hospital administrator, when found had an overdose of morphine injected one night while sleeping in bed. Robin whispered to him who he was and why he was doing this.

  From the thrill of satisfaction, Robin scanned the papers for other victims who suffered at the hands of neglect. Most were low level drug dealers from where he obtained his smack, but drunk drivers were fair game also. Ron was clever, military trained in Special Forces; excellent shape and with no family left, didn’t much care what happened to him.

  2.

  The organization of police captains used the acronym VO [Vigilante Organization] for identification. Anyone listening would think of the blended Canadian whiskey and leave it at that. The Number Two man, as numbers not names were used, sat in his office in LA scanning the computer. His particular interest was unsolved homicides. The strange death of a hospital administrator and three drug dealers, along with two drunk driver homicides in the last six months occurred, it caught his attention. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out someone was doing what the courts failed to do: clean up the trash.

  He sat back and thought how to catch, no not catch, but find out who this person was and recruit him for the team. This was simple enough, go back and check all the records of the hospital where the administrator worked and inquire about anything unusual prior to his death. He picked up his phone and called his right hand man a lieutenant that was not only damn good at his job, but totally dedicated to his boss. Sandy Briggs answered on the line he knew as his bosses and said, “What’s up boss?”

  “Sandy if you’re not busy, come on up for a minute.” Sandy hung up, ran a comb through his thick blonde hair, put on a nifty sport jacket and made for the captain’s office. Sandy gave the captain’s secretary a wink and walked through the door unannounced. Not breaking stride he flopped down in an old metal office chair and looked his boss in the eye. His captain said, “Sandy I’ve a little job for you.” While he listened to his boss, Sandy took a look at what was in front of him. A larger than life man who’s head seemed out of proportion to his long body. Maybe it was the thick, straight back combed white hair that made his head look so big. Eyes so intense those looking into them for more than a few seconds sucked you dry wanting to confess any and all crimes for the day. However his voice, on the other hand, had a fatherly tone that literally put his grand children to sleep. Now Sandy heard the story and said, “I’m on it boss and will keep you informed when I know something.” Sandy left and Number Two went back to the computer.

  3.

  Fifteen hundred miles away in Chicago Number Four was pretty much doing the same thing looking for anomalies in the system? He didn’t find what he was looking for, but an interesting case popped up. A computer hacker bent upon exposing corruption and just released from prison was held overnight for exposing herself to protest the election of a movie star for governor. He laughed and thought with the smile changing to a serious look, maybe she would be an asset for our VO group. She could monitor the FBI who would once they began in earnest, follow their investigation. He too, picked up the phone to call his lieutenant. When the lieutenant heard the story he left to locate the young lady hacker Toni Tether.

  Just down the road a bit in St. Louis much the same thing was going on. St. Louis is one of the most crime ridden cities in America. Chief of Police and a St. Louis former captain, just recently promoted, sat at her computer going over anything out of the ordinary. She gave off a sigh of frustration at the long list of crime for just the last twenty four hours. One thing that piqued her interest was a woman who made a scene at the airport upon entering country from Asia. It seems she carried on some Chinese artifacts that could be used as weapons and even though nothing was said or done in Hong Kong, now the immigration people made a fuss. She was arrested for disturbing the peace and was being held on twenty four hour mandatory charges. Number four made a call to her former lieutenant and told her to bring a one Joy Listy to her office.

  Thirty minutes later a defiant Joy Listy sat in front of the Chief of Police waiting to see what kind of shit was going to spill from this bitch’s lips. Joy was hard core and knew she made a mistake coming home. Her parents were dead and her only sister needed some advice on the disposition of the property. Now both stared at each other neither giving ground. Joy thought the Chief rather good looking for about fifty and the Chief thought Joy was around forty, but in what appeared excellent condition. Not a sign of makeup and hair pulled back in a long dark red pony tail. Her skin weathered from too much sun and wind, but a nice oval face housed eyes of coal black and a bit scary looking. The Chief smiled knowing she found a diamond in the rough said, “Joy, this conversation is off the record and I need your help.” Joy looked a little taken aback and with a slight twist in her neck signifying curiosity waiting for her to continue. “I’d like to know what you have been doing for the last five years,” as she fiddled with a file showing Joy long delicate fingers and nails painted a subtle pink.

  “Why do you want to know,” she asked with a deeper voice than what the Chief expected.

  She picked the file with Joy’s name on it, focused on the part where she’d been out of country for six years and her passport showed various countries visited. “I’ll be frank with you Joy, I have a job for you and you will have my protection and a whole lot of money in the bank of your choice if you decide to work for me.”

  “Money interests me a lot,” she replied. “For a lot of money who do I have to kill,” she asked with a smirk on her face.

  “I can upfront you one hundred large and our go between is the woman lieutenant who brought you here. Now tell me please what you been doing for the last few years.”

  “Well six years ago I went to Afghanistan as a mercenary. I spent many years training in martial arts and am proficient in all forms of weapons. From there I went to Africa and then back to Pakistan. For the last two years I’ve been studying Chinese methods of martial arts and medicine.”
Joy let that hang in the air while the Chief digested what she told her.

  “May I assume you have taken another human life before?”

  Joy laughed and said, “I lost track a long time ago how many bodies I’ve left for the buzzards, but now that you have my attention let’s get down to details.” Number Four was pleased as punch with her new find. Their upcoming meeting in Vegas set the stage and begins the War on Drugs that was left behind by a former First Lady.

  4.

  Number One sat in his austere home in Miami reading the paper on a Saturday morning. Lately he’d been scanning the crime section and reading what investigative reporters had to say about crime. One article raised his bushy gray eyebrows reading about a drug lord who once more escaped jail time with his slick looking lawyer standing next to him in a picture showing both walking down the steps of the court house smiling at the camera. Number One mumbled under his breath and said to nobody, “Your time is about over buster and say good bye to the world you used to live in.”

  He looked up at the calendar noting it was two weeks until their Las Vegas meeting. Number One had been a policeman for almost forty years and they were trying to push him out the door with a pat on the back. He thought that for once in his life, he would do something to protect society like he swore on a bible many years ago.

  ***

  At the same time Number One was reading the paper ex FBI agent Brian Refuta, in a low rent district of Miami, cracked open one eye and with a giant effort, peaked at the bedside clock and then closed the eye rolling over on his back. I have to give this up, he thought, while rubbing his two day growth of stubble. Tell me Brian, he warned self, when you are going to get your act straight and quit looking like Mike Hammer.

  Brain Refuta current profession was a private investigator. Before that he had been a hard working FBI agent mostly investigating drug lords and liaison with the DEA. His short temper and frustration at the system got the best of him and he was quietly let go with a generous severance package. Now he thought he was Mike Hammer incarnate, not because he envied him, quite the contrary, as his slovenly appearance came with the territory of bars and chasing hard dick husbands for clients who wished to divorce or confront; mostly just to put some excitement in their lives. Brian became an expert with a camera and could track a mountain goat in the Rocky Mountains. Two things he lived on, one was coffee and the other was cigarettes. There was no doubt he was a juicer and hung out at a sleazy bar with a typical half out neon sign with a martini glass with a swizzle stick blinking hanging outside the battered door. Of course his office was within walking distance, if you could call it an office. He liked it because instead of climbing the puke smelling stairs, his office was downstairs in a basement studio that doubled for his living quarters.

  That’s where he was now recovering from a Friday night starting with happy hour and ending at the witching hour. Now he lay smelling his fetid breath thinking once again of his two younger brothers who over dosed on some pure smack five years ago. The news killed his mother and his father now lived in an old soldiers home lost in another world after trying unsuccessfully to drink him to death. The twins were not expected and fifteen years separated them from older brother Brian. Brian, once again tears welling up, thought about how he loved the two brothers and tried to keep them on the straight and narrow. But one night at their high school graduation party, someone turned them on with a bad fix and both died at the hospital. If a shrink sought to find the root cause of his temper and attitude, therein lay basis of his present day demeanor. On more than one occasion he left a body of a dealer in an alley where he pretended to buy some drugs.

  5.

  Number One laid his head back and closed his eyes racking his past to find a person who could fit the bill for taking out the bad guys and then remembered a FBI agent who was fired for being overly aggressive at a bust breaking the perps arm and almost choking him to death. His gray eyes flew open and the paper fluttered to the floor as he lumbered into the kitchen for the phone. He knew exactly who to call and it was a newspaper reporter friend of his with a memory an elephant would envy.

  Two hours later he had his man, address and bar hangout. It was eight o’clock that night when Number One parked across the street from the Swizzle Stick, a purple flashing cocktail glass in a neighbor hood that was mostly black and some others called you hombre. He crossed the mostly dark street cautiously and had to push hard to get the door open. His guess the door over the years had one too many drunks kicking at it leaving swearing at the bar keep for just one more drink for the ditch.

  One look up and down the bar with his professional eye, he spotted his mark at the end of the bar, with a drink in hand and a cigarette following the glass to his mouth. All eyes turned towards him, but it was quickly assumed the old man was harmless and all went back to their drinking. All except Brian whose sharp eyes tagged the guy right away and Number One caught him looking for just a second too long. There wasn’t an empty stool and damn few tables available. However one small table next to the wall in the corner almost too dark to see had two wooden chairs that if anyone sat down, might be winding up on the floor. Number One took a chance and almost unseen, nodded to Brain; then very slowly sat down at the table. Brain nodded at the bar keeper, who had been watching the whole thing unfold, scurried to the table to find out what the old timer wanted to drink. Meanwhile Brain sat his gin and tonic down taking a long hard drag off his Marlboro and then raised his head up blowing a great cloud of smoke to the already nicotine stained ceiling with his eyes never leaving the face of Number One.

  Brian saw the old man's eyes sweep the room taking in the smoke layered like clouds where two smoke eaters worked overtime along with a noisy A/C keeping time to the old juke box playing some sad Spanish song. It was dark for a reason: to not notice how dirty and dingy the place was. Behind the bar a double mirror separated by a wood divider with one mirror cracked and the other fairly clean half way up due to the fact the bartender was short completed the scene. There were only a few name brand bottles of whiskey sitting on the back bar as nowadays drinks weren’t poured they came from a gun pressed to give you a shot determined by the owner.

  Number One started to say, “My name is……….”

  “I know who you are captain. We met years ago and for the life of me why you are in this dive is beyond me. I can guess you came to see me and that is even more curious.” Just then the short, but nice looking bartender came to deliver the drinks.

  “You are right Brian Refuta. I came to find you and see if you would be interested in a job for us. Us, is not open for discussion, but even though I can offer you a lot of money, I don’t think money is what you’re interested in,” as he looked around signifying that a man who hung out here was not because he didn’t like money, it was because he liked the joint. He looked at Brain and saw drink written all over his middle aged face. His eyes still had an intelligent sharp look set in a face that was nice looking if he shaved and got a haircut once in awhile. His dress reminded him of Miami Vice as a lightweight sport coat that had seen better days hung like a rumpled rag on the back of a chair. Hands were clean albeit stained to an almost orange, nails trimmed while holding a cigarette in one and a baseball grip on his fresh gin and tonic with the other.

  “Captain, I’m all ears and nowhere to go. I’d invite you to my place, but doubt if it would suit you. What we can do is move down the street where we don’t have to fight the noise of the TV and other sounds of a Saturday night just beginning.”

  “I’ll follow you,” as he stood up leaving his drink untouched and laying a twenty on the table.

  Surprisingly, a clean neat café with only a few customers sat around the corner. Sitting down in a comfortable booth a young black girl with startling white teeth asked what they wanted. Number One ordered coffee and pie, while Brain did the same. The captain noticed if he was a true drunk he would not eat and wait till the meeting was over to continue his Saturday night. While watching t
he cute waitress leave the captain said, “Brian, I’ll make this as short as possible. I read your file and subsequent years with your PI business. I’m really sorry about your two brothers and what happened to your mother and father since then. I also know, but have no proof, and don’t want to have proof, a few drug dealers have met with a mysterious death now and again. Most were put off as gang related or just filed as unsolved. As I said, we are a group out to right some wrongs with the system that for all intense and purposes failed our citizens. My proposition is this, we want you to eliminate criminals who have escaped the system and roam free for one reason or another. I’ll, along with the others do our best to keep the heat off, but once it begins, the FBI will step in at some point in time. If the heat gets too much, we will send you and the others to a remote location where you could live a comfortable life.”

  From the beginning of his conversation, Brian interested piqued and when he was almost finished, wanted to kiss the guy across the table. This is what he wanted: revenge? By the time he heard the story and it was finished he was ready to quit drinking and start tonight. More calming he asked, “Should I change life styles or remain the way it is now?”

  “Stay the same and when you need money, a client will come to your office with expense money and a name or two.” The pie was delivered and to the captain’s delight, it was as good as homemade. They ate in silence and then the captain said, “Watch the papers around the States. This is a war and we intend to clean up the streets while we can.” Brain only nodded thinking about how much he was going to enjoy the next part of his life.