Justifiable Homicide

by Waggoner, Robert C.

  It was no shock that Sandy stood on the other side of the door and had a pitiful look of sorrow in her face as if he was the one assassinated and not his boss. With glass in hand he stood back as she meekly came in. Instead of a hug, which Peter knew she expected he walked quickly to the kitchen for another glass. Walking back into the still dark living room he found Sandy, coat off sitting in the middle of the sofa where the wine bottle stood naked on the coffee table. She said, “I’m so sorry Peter. It must have been a total shock and no one should have to witness such a dastardly thing.”

  Peter said he was fine and just needed some quiet time after a four hour grilling by his mates. He poured her a glass and finished off his first one. He poured another and was beginning to feel the glow rising from his mid section to flush upon his face. Sandy sensed his distant being and said in a very quiet voice hoping the answer was no, “Do you want me to leave?”

  Peter gave it some serious thought and felt he couldn’t just turn her away. He said, “No, you can stay, but I’m probably not very good company,” as he played with his glass of wine. Sandy leaned into him and he wondered why it didn’t feel good she was there and trying to comfort him. He tried to show some affection by putting his hand on her leg. It felt warm and soft and he too warmed to the feeling. Sandy laid her head on his shoulder and sipped her wine.

  She said, “Are you hungry?”

  “Not in the least,” he answered. “But I need a shower to wash the day off me. I feel like I’ve been rolling on a sidewalk and after a long session with my interrogators feel like the sweat has sprouted all over my body. He was surprised he used the word ‘interrogators’ in his statement.

  “Sandy said, “Let me take a shower with you and I’ll wash your back and afterwards give you a body rub down.”

  Peter could find nothing to say no about so he stood up, finished off his wine and started peeling off clothes walking to the bathroom with Sandy in tow. Peter let the hot water run over his head trying to rid the day’s carnage. Over and over he saw the wall splattered with his boss’s brains: a sight that never left him as long as he lived.

  He felt Sandy scrubbing his back and he wondered if any amount of scrubbing would rid the way his skin felt. She turned him around and started from the shoulders down. On her knees she washed his legs and each foot. Peter was starting to feel better and when she finished with a quick wash of his crotch, eyes still closed, he felt her mouth take his penis making it warm and hard. In no time he felt the onrush of an orgasm and with it came the purging of the day’s events. Sandy gave him a big smile and finally Peter gave her a hug. He thought that maybe life would not be so bad after all. That is until he met his tag mate.

  41.

  Brian Refuta sat in his old van near the dock area of Miami. The DEA had an office in a warehouse not far from where Brian parked. It was close to noon and after a shave and some new duds he was going to pay a visit to his old friend Wayne Strippes. Once more he ran the bio over in his head. Wayne was close to fifty, a twenty five year veteran who had married late and now his kids were late teens both in college. His wife was typical and stayed home to raise the kids and take care of the house. Earlier Brian had driven by his house and it wasn’t anything special and it fit his income bracket. Brian wondered where he stashed the cash. Wayne was anything but stupid and most likely an off shore bank held the funds.

  From the past Brian remembered Wayne ate lunch from a sack he brought from home. Wayne was a vegetarian and preferred the quiet of the office at lunch time. That’s what Brian was counting on: an empty office.

  At twelve thirty Brain drove to the warehouse office. As he figured, Wayne was the only one in the office. He was munching on carrots and celery with peanut butter washing it down with a bottle of water. As soon as he saw Brian his face lit up like a kid in a toy store. Brian walked to his desk with his hand out to receive Wayne’s out stretched arm. Wayne said, “Well looked what the cat drug in. Damn nice to see you Brian. Last I heard you were snapping pictures of errant husbands for jealous wives.”

  Brain smiled and notice Wayne didn’t look any older than the last time he saw him about five years ago. Brain said, “Yes, business is good and I’m an expert with a camera. I make little extra selling photos on the web,” he joked as he sat down next to the desk. Wayne continued eating looking at Brian with a careful eye, saying I don’t think this is a social call. Brain asked about the family and some weather talk then with a serious look what Wayne was waiting for said, “Wayne they're on to you big time. I talked to some people and told them you might be open for a deal to save your hide,” Brain let that sink in for a few moments as Wayne fiddled with his sack lunch.

  “Brian could you be a little more specific here. You say someone is on to me and you, out of the goodness of your heart, tell me there is a way out?”

  “I’ll be frank with you Wayne; there is a contract out on you at this moment in time. They know the Columbia connection and to save your life, you have the option of a double agent for us to neutralize the flow of drugs into Miami. You really don’t think I would come here and tell a story that lacked basis of fact, do you?”

  Wayne said, “I guess not Brian, but it would seem a ‘catch twenty two’ thing here. If I help you and Columbia finds out I’m a dead man. It would seem if I don’t I’m still a dead man.”

  “Wayne, if we knocked out the Columbia connection you could still be alive and carry on with your job.”

  “Let me think about it and come back tomorrow at lunch time.” Brain stood up and looked him in the eye and told him he would see him tomorrow. Wayne sat back down and finished his lunch, but Brian guessed it didn’t taste as good as before he came in.

  The question in Brian’s mind was if indeed he turned on the Columbians how would his boss pass on the information. Seems strange as hell, he thought, as he took a stroll along the dock amid a breezy day blowing his thinning hair. Very little activity as lunch time brought the longshoremen to hang up their hard hats. He continued his stroll looking into warehouses, but really not paying much attention to anything in particular. Basically the place was deserted and he decided to turn around have some lunch and report the progress or lack thereof, to his boss when a ping sounded off the metal warehouse and Brain automatically ducked when two more pings sounded and he realized someone was shooting at him with a silenced gun. Some boxes on palettes were next to him as he dove behind them. Breathing hard he drew out his Glock and waited. Apparently Wayne had given him his answer and now, he thought, I’m trapped not having a clue where the shots came from. Brian was hugging the cement dock smelling salt and dripped oil from forklifts when he peeked around the corner and was met with flakes of cement kicking up in front of his face.

  Brian looked back in a direct line from the stacked cargo and saw a door open about twenty feet away. It was his only chance, he thought. If I can get into the warehouse, I can even up the odds. Brain got to his feet in a squat and drew a lung full of air fighting off a cigarette cough and made a dash for the door. Only one ping above his head followed him into the warehouse full of freight. Brain ran to the stairs and by the time he reached the top, another round hit the hand rails as he dove for the floor. Now it was more even as he lay on his back trying to recover his breath and letting his overworked heart slow down. He thought, I now have the high ground and let’s see what his next move is, as he peeked over the edge of the floor down to the main floor of the warehouse. Brian wiped the sweat off his face and scanned the lower floor. Nothing was moving that he could see until like a flash, someone ran for the stairs and Brain let loose with a couple shots knowing it was doubtful he could hit a fast moving target with his pistol.

  Now that the shooter was under him, Brain thought it was time to go on the offensive. There must be a back door down from here like a fire escape as he slipped off his shoes and quietly moved to the back of the floor next to a wall lined with windows so dirty not much light came through. Brian found a door and it was locked with a
giant padlock. Hoping his shooter was not already climbing the stairs he put several shots into the padlock. His luck was holding as the lock opened the door. He pushed it open and looked down seeing steps leading to the dock. Now it was time to make his move and down the stairs as fast as he could go, he hit the dock running for the corner of the building where he hoped the shooter would follow him thinking he would find an escape route and not think he was just around the corner of the building.

  Brain pulled up to the corner and listened carefully. He heard footsteps running and when he knew the shooter was about half way down to the corner of the warehouse, Brain rolled doing a half summersault coming up on a startled shooter firing off three quick shots to the midsection. The shooter looked surprised as he looked down at his midsection where blood was starting to flow and then looked up at Brian and smiled as he sank to his knees and then fell face first to the cement dock. Brain took his shoes out of his pocket and knowing Wayne was finished walked to his car like he was just out for a stroll. He kept to the warehouse side of the dock and only on one occasion did a pickup truck come by while he hid behind some palettes of freight.

  Back in his minivan Brain drove off with more sweat running off him than he could ever remember. His breath came in ragged gasps from way too many Marlboros and silently he thought it was time to quit. Back out on the street he drove slowly home and a shower. Brian’s main concern was evidence left behind. Fingerprints were his only concern as he doubted the office would be dusted and nowhere else would produce a print unless it was the door leading to the back stairs. His mind was not clear on that point so he tried to remember each move after he shot the lock. A smile crossed his face as he remembered using his foot to open the door leaving his hands free to shoot if the shooter came upon him escaping out the back. He thought he was home free and after hearing the news later on the TV at the Swizzle Stick, he relaxed a bit.

  However, Brian should not have relaxed as he was spotted by a walking security guard who said he saw a guy coming out of the office and strolling down the dock. The security guard took his job serious and gave a fair description of Brian to the investigating officers. He told them it was not usual to have someone walking around the docks and even though he didn’t look like he was casing the place, he noticed age, dress and other things to give a more than reasonable account of Brian Refuta.

  Number One had watched the news on TV and as it was in Number One’s patch, he was notified of a possible ID on the killer. Number One was on his way to the Swizzle Stick as Brain relaxed with his usual gin and tonic in one hand and a Marlboro in the other. Ten minutes later Brian and his boss were sitting in his car while driving away from the area. Number One said, “They got your fingerprints off the chair you sat in and a good description from a security guard who saw you walking around the dock area. It’s time for you to hide Brian and as mentioned before, you will be taken care of. You can’t go back home and if you have your passport on you or in your car, now is the time to fly to Texas where we will have someone meet you for a new ID. I guess somewhere in the Caribbean getting a sun tan might be the place to go.”

  Brian sat listening and thought about the life he was about to leave. Not a damn thing to leave behind, he thought. He said, “Where in Texas am I going?”

  “Dallas first and,” as he reached into his pocket handing a single sheet of paper to him, “follow these instructions.” Brian used a pen light to read in the dark as they drove to a private airport that had been set up for just this type of operation. A small twin airplane would fly him north to Georgia, then from Georgia to Texas and from Texas south to Belize. It wouldn’t be hard to live the good life in Belize soaking up the sun. Brian sat back and this time he could really relax. Apparently his career as a hit man was over, he thought. However, his role as a hit man was not over and he would play a major role supplying information about drugs flowing from the Belize area to America.

  42.

  While Joy and Pect were on a train to Phoenix, Toni was parked in Duncan Family Campgrounds. Close enough for easy travel to DC and far enough outside to go unnoticed. She told the nice lady she was on her way back to New York and home, but a stopover for a few days to see some old college buds. From the owner she obtained a phone number for a taxi service and she was all set by Friday to meet Peter on Saturday.

  Toni set in her motor home and scanned a map looking for a place to meet him. Toni didn’t fear a trap as she had stored e-mails on a disk to involve him in his boss’s demise. She smiled and then felt a little bad having to blackmail him if the situation arose. Never mind, she thought, as she sent off a mail to see where he might want to meet.

  Number One had sent a mail telling her that the Florida connection was compromised and at this point, nothing further would go that way. Also the LA guy was home after a vacation and the others on their way to Arizona. Toni had read the bio on the hit coming in Phoenix and it was another political assassination on a drunk driver homicide whereby she, a senator, had skirted the law using her political clout.

  Peter meanwhile, received Toni’s mail and decided the Washington Monument was a good a place as any to meet. He mailed the suggestion and in no time it was agreed that tomorrow at one they would meet. That taken care of Toni went to bed early on a dry but cold winter day in late January. Before she drifted off she thought about Peter and what he would be like. A smile barely noted crossed her face as she had some plans for this guy tomorrow. And his girlfriend Sandra was not going to like the results.

  Peter Holmes was in a funk. Much like his mentor Sherlock on occasion, all he wanted to do was be left alone. He had some vacation time coming and as he sat facing his computer on a Friday night, thinking about the meet tomorrow with his tag mate, he filled out the paper work for a three week vacation. Depending on what the tag mate wanted, he would go home to see his parents. Peter was the last one to leave and dropped the vacation request in the secretaries in box. So much for that, he thought. It felt like he’d just sent his letter of resignation in and wondered what it would be like for a seven percent solution his mentor so loved.

  43

  At noon Saturday Toni dressed in a down coat and ski hat with gloves on stood at the base of the Washington Monument blowing frozen air against the slight breeze. It was cold and if the weak sun hadn’t been shinning, it would be even colder. There was some left over snow, mostly ice now, where kids were sliding on their hind ends down the gradual slope away from the monument. There were perhaps thirty people on a Saturday morning rubber necking the place. Die hard tourists, Toni thought, as she gazed around in hopes of spotting her mark.

  Toni was beating her arms trying to stay warm when she saw Peter walking towards the base. He had on an overcoat the color of deer with a black gloves swinging back and forth as he walked tall looking around like the special agent he was. He wore no hat and his blonde hair cut short gave him a preppy look. He’s gorgeous, Toni thought. A nice tingle went head to toe as she walked around like a tourist eyeing him from the corner of her deep blue eyes.

  Peter stood looking down the slope when Toni walked up behind him and she said, “Nice to see you in the flesh, Peter Holmes.”

  Peter turned slowly to look down on his tag mate. She was a mere wisp of a girl. Cobalt blue eyes large and friendly stared back at him. Peter had never seen so many freckles on anyone and her orange red hair sticking out from underneath her ski hat made him realize she probably had a temper to go with the hair. “Well, are you just going to stand there and stare at me?” He opened his mouth, but after seeing her smile with perfect ivory teeth and lips as red as her hair, made him weak at the knees. She was drop dead beautiful in her own way. Her voice had the force of a truck driver, but the dancing sparkle in her eyes belied the coarseness he heard.

  “I never expected to meet someone who packs so much weight in such a little body. Yes, I know that big things can come in small packages, but I’m quietly pleased to meet you.”

  “Peter, if I had balls li
ke you, but I don’t, they’d be freezing off; I’m freezing my butt off standing out here. Is there some place we can go to warm up?”

  He smiled and said, “Yes, follow me and we will go have some lunch.” Peter for some reason had lost his funk and felt like he had a new lease on life. One moment he was going to rethink his life and the next day he meets this fiery Tinker Bell that stimulated his day and he all but forgot he was a FBI agent. Toni took him by the arm and let him lead her to his car. Twenty minutes later they were sitting in a funky saloon where the food was to die for. It took them thirty minutes to sit down, but during that time Pete babbled his life story to an eager listener.

  Sitting down looking at each other, Peter saw one good looking red head. On the other hand Toni saw one good looking guy. Toni took her coat off and hat shaking her hair down. Peter saw her breasts and longed to nibble on the, what he knew were cad red nipples. Her hair hung to her shoulders and with a few deft hand strokes it fell into place. Toni said, “Well Holmes do I pass inspection?”