Lady Justice and the Devil's Breath

by Robert Thornhill

  “We figured you’d probably say that,” Kevin said, “but at least now you can watch your back.”

  “But how? I wouldn’t know an assassin if I saw one. Those two at the fountain and that old woman --- who would ever think they were there to kill me?”

  “We might be able to help,” I said, “if you want us to.”

  “That’s very kind of you to offer, but I can’t pay you. I’m a volunteer. We don’t have a budget for private security.”

  “We’re not asking to be paid,” I replied. “Kevin and I are both retired. We don’t need the money. This is different. It’s personal and maybe a bit selfish. The old woman this morning is a personal friend of mine. She was drugged and sent on a mission to kill. I want get the bastards who set her up. I have no doubt they will be coming after you again. Our best chance to catch them is to protect you.”

  “Oh, so you want to use me as bait!”

  “Don’t think of it like that. If you continue your campaign, I have no doubt they’ll be coming for you again. Only this time, we’ll be waiting for them. You’ll be safe and we’ll get the creeps who drugged my friend. We both win.”

  She thought for a moment. “I’m in. What do we do next?”

  “Where are you speaking next?” Kevin asked.

  “I’m speaking to the League of Women Voters at the Hilton Inn in Independence, the day after tomorrow.”

  “Great!” I replied. “I know the place. We had our fiftieth-class reunion there. If they come, we’ll be ready.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Ramon dreaded the call he was about to make. Carlos Moreno was not a patient man.

  “Carlos, it’s Ramon.”

  “I hope you’re calling to say that you’ve taken care of the woman.”

  “I tried, Carlos, but fate intervened again.”

  “Fate? Now you’re blaming fate for your incompetence?”

  “I had the perfect shill. She was drugged and outside the woman’s door when two men accosted her. I have no idea how they knew she was there.”

  “It is your job to know these things! This woman must be stopped! Every time she speaks, she gathers more signatures for her petition.”

  “She speaks again tomorrow night. I’ll be there and this time I will not fail.”

  “For your sake, I hope not.”

  Ramon was trembling when he hung up the phone. He had seen the remains of other men who had failed Moreno, and it was not a pretty sight.

  Irina Petrov smiled as she checked into the Hilton Inn.

  Compared to other assignments she had contracted, this one would be a walk in the park. There would be no contingent of armed guards like in Syria and Pakistan. There would be no fortress to penetrate as in Mexico.

  The woman was so vulnerable, she could take her at any time. She would find the right moment.

  The pharmaceutical companies that hired her had been down this road many times and knew what they were doing. After all, who would suspect a diminutive female to be a hired assassin?

  She would take a seat in the meeting room along with the members of the League of Women Voters, study her prey, then decide on the precise moment to strike.

  I made a mistake. Let me rephrase. I made a mistake trying to avoid making a mistake.

  As a private investigator, I sometimes have to spend evenings away from home. I learned early on that I should always tell Maggie where I’m going and what I’m going to do. If I don’t, somehow she finds out anyway and then I’m in the dog house for not coming clean.

  So, to avoid making that mistake, I told her I would be going to the Hilton Inn to keep an eye on Kristen Hartman. That’s what led to the subsequent mistake.

  “Oh good!” Maggie replied, “I’ll go with you. I’ve been on the fence about this medical marijuana issue. I’d love to hear what she has to say.”

  It was bad enough having Maggie tag along when there might be an assassin in the crowd, but very soon things got out of hand. Somehow Bernice found out and wanted to go, so of course, that meant Dad was going too.

  Evidently Bernice called Mary and in an instant she was on the phone.

  “Mr. Walt! Don’t even think about goin’ after the scum bag without me. That s.o.b. took advantage of my good nature and drugged me. I’ve got a score to settle. Besides, I’m the only one who knows what he looks like.”

  Mary had a point. She and Mr. Feeney were the only ones who had actually seen Ramon Diaz and I certainly wasn’t going to involve Mr. Stinky Pants.

  I tried my best to talk everyone out of going, but as usual, I lost.

  Since they were all going, I figured I might as well make use of them. Mary said Ramon looked like a young Ricardo Montalban, so I went to the Internet, printed out a photo, and gave it to each of them.

  If he actually showed up, it shouldn’t be difficult to spot a handsome Latino in a roomful of women.

  The Hilton Inn has meeting rooms where conventions, class reunions, and other events are held. On the far end of the structure, past the meeting rooms is the Herford House restaurant and bar. It’s a great set-up. Visitors attending a conference have a quality hotel and a nice place to eat and drink without leaving the premises. The bar attracts not only hotel guests, but also locals, especially during Happy Hour.

  Maggie, Dad, Bernice and Mary found seats in the conference room with photo in hand, on the lookout for Ramon Diaz. Mary had brought her bat along, ‘just in case.’ I tried talking her out of it, to no avail.

  Kevin and I patrolled the hall outside the room, keeping an eye on the reception table. I had no doubt that if Ramon showed his face, one of us would spot him.

  A few minutes before the meeting was to start, Mary came trotting out.

  “My mouth’s so dry, I’m spittin’ cotton!” she announced. “I’m gonna go to the bar and get me a Sprite. I’ll be right back.”

  Ramon sat at the end of the bar sipping a margarita. He was watching the locals drift in to have a drink before heading home.

  It wasn’t long before he spotted exactly what he was looking for.

  A woman, late thirties to early forties with bleach-blonde hair took a seat at the bar. He knew her type, lonely and desperate for attention. She was there hoping to get lucky.

  She ordered a drink and smiled seductively at several men who were quite obviously not interested.

  When she downed the last of her drink, Ramon made his move. He slipped onto the stool beside her. “May I buy you a drink?”

  He knew without a doubt, she would not refuse. He would wait for the right moment to slip the Devil’s Breath into her drink when she wasn’t looking. As soon as the drug took effect, he would lead her into the hall, give her the .38, and program what she should do to accomplish his mission.

  “I suppose so,” the woman replied, “I’m Rita.”

  “Miguel,” Ramon lied. “A woman as lovely as you shouldn’t be drinking alone.”

  Rita couldn’t believe her good fortune. A handsome man was actually interested in her! It was her lucky night.

  Mary strode into the bar. It was packed with Happy Hour patrons so there was no room at the bar. She tried in vain to get the attention of the overworked bartender. “Hey, what do I have to do to get some service around here?”

  Then she spotted his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. It was him! He was engaged in an intense conversation with some floozie.

  Without hesitation, she moved up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Hey Miguel --- or is it Ramon? Can I buy you a beer?”

  He turned and his mouth dropped open. “It’s you!”

  “Damned right it’s me, and I’ve got a score to settle.”

  As Ramon pulled the .38 from his waistband, Mary brought her bat crashing against his wrist. The gun flew across the floor.

  The floozie shrieked, Ramon yelped in pain, leaped off the stool and headed to the door, but Mary was too quick. A second swing of the bat brought Ramon to his knees.

  Th
e bar patrons stared in disbelief as the old woman with the bat stood over the fallen man.

  “Nobody messes with Mary Murphy!”

  CHAPTER 17

  I heard a shriek and commotion in the bar and remembered that Mary was headed that way. I figured I should investigate to see what kind of trouble she had gotten herself into this time.

  The scene I witnessed certainly wasn’t what I was expecting.

  A man was face-down on the floor and Mary had her foot squarely on his back and her bat on the base of his neck. The bar patrons, scared out of their wits, had retreated to the back of the room.

  Mary broke into a smile when she saw me enter the bar. “Got ‘em, Mr. Walt. I told you I would.”

  I signaled to the bartender. “Call 911.”

  “Already did,” he replied, his hands shaking.

  Kevin was right behind me. “Holy crap!” he muttered, taking in the bizarre scene.

  I heard sirens in the distance and by the time officers arrived, Kevin had Ramon in cuffs.

  After a lengthy explanation of what had occurred and why, the officers confirmed that the man weeping on the floor was indeed the subject of a city-wide manhunt, and he had been captured by an old woman with a bat!

  The people in the conference room who had poured into the corridor to see what the commotion was all about, stared open mouthed as the police led Ramon away in cuffs.

  Kristen Hartman was visibly shaken. “Was that --- was that the man who’s been trying to kill me?”

  “It was and he’s no longer a threat. I see you’re upset. Do you want to cancel?”

  I saw her back stiffen. “Hell no! This is exactly why I’m doing what I’m doing. What just happened will only reinforce what I have to say.”

  She turned to the crowd. “Please return to the conference room and take your seats. I have a lot to tell you.”

  At that moment, Maggie came up beside me. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course,” I replied. “Mary had everything under control.”

  I saw Mary coming down the hall. She had a big grin on her face. “Got my Sprite and my man,” she said, holding up a cup. “I didn’t even have to pay for it. The bartender said it was on the house.”

  I had no doubt the bartender would have given her just about anything to get her out of his bar.

  “Great work,” I said. “We’re all proud of you.”

  “Let’s go inside,” Maggie said. “I still want to hear what she has to say.”

  Once the crowd settled in, Kristen took the podium.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, what you just witnessed is one of the reasons I’m working so hard to get this initiative on November’s ballot. The man you saw being led away in cuffs has tried three times to kill me so that this issue will never be put to the voters of Missouri.”

  There was a murmur throughout the audience, then shocked silence.

  “The man who sent him to kill me is a Columbian drug lord. Why is this important to him you might ask? The answer is that if medical marijuana can be purchased legally, it will cut into the profits he makes by smuggling weed into our state.

  “I know that many of you have reservations about this issue, but you must consider this; marijuana is here in our city and in our state whether we want it or not. The question is, do we want the profits for the sale of the drug and the taxes collected on those sales to go to a Columbian drug lord or to Missouri citizens.

  “Think about the prohibition years. Once the sale of alcohol was illegal, did everyone just quit drinking? Absolutely not! There was a demand and bootleggers were more than happy to step in and supply that demand. This is no different. As I said before, marijuana is here to stay whether we like it or not. Our police have even acknowledged that fact. While marijuana possession is still illegal, the penalties for possession have been reduced from $500.00 and jail time, to $25.00 and no jail time. We have a choice. Do we want a regulated and taxed new industry in the state or drug dealers selling on street corners?”

  A woman in the audience raised her hand. “I know your petition is about medical marijuana, but if that’s approved isn’t it just a matter of time until recreational marijuana will be on the ballot?”

  “I can’t answer that question. It’s up to the citizens of this state. As of now, twenty-nine states have legalized medical marijuana, but only nine have legalized it for recreational use. Let’s concentrate on that issue first.”

  The woman in the audience raised her hand again. “Surely you’re aware that studies show that more teenagers now smoke marijuana than cigarettes. Between 30 to 40 percent of high school seniors report smoking pot in the past year, and 6% say they use it every day. That’s frightening!”

  “I agree,” Kristen replied, “but your statistics only reinforce my position. Marijuana is part of our culture whether we like it or not. Let’s acknowledge the reality and deal with the problem instead of burying our head in the sand and hoping it will go away.

  “Now, back to the issue of medical marijuana. I’m sure some of you have heard the story of Charlotte Figi. This three-year-old girl suffered from Dravet syndrome. The poor child endured over 300 seizures a week until her parents discovered a high CBD marijuana extract. Now, with this treatment, Charlotte has maybe four seizures a month and is able to live a normal life. The extract became known as Charlotte’s Web and has provided blessed relief to people suffering from seizures.

  “The sad ending to this story is that Charlotte’s Web is illegal in Missouri. People suffering from this malady have two choices; they can obtain the drug illegally by buying from people like the man you saw being led away in handcuffs or traveling across Kansas to Colorado to buy the drug and bring it back to Missouri. Either way, they run the risk of being arrested for possession of a controlled substance. The other choice many families have made to get the medicine they need is to uproot their families leaving their homes, jobs and loved ones, to move to a state where medical marijuana is legal. You have the opportunity to correct this miscarriage of justice this November.

  “People suffering from glaucoma spend hundreds of dollars a month on prescription medications that have severe side effects. If this legislation is enacted, they can get the natural medication they need at a fraction of the cost with no side effects. I could go on and on, but I think you get the picture.”

  The same woman raised her hand. “I’m still worried that if we open the door, people will find a way to abuse the drug. Take Colorado, for example. Since legalization, they have experienced an increase in marijuana related traffic accidents, an increase in marijuana related emergency room treatments, and an increase in teen use of the drug.”

  “Again, we’re talking about recreational use of marijuana. What you say may be true but consider this; human nature being what it is, there are always going to be people who will abuse. Alcohol is legal but jail cells are filled with people who abuse it every day, and how many traffic accidents are committed by drunk drivers? Opioids are legal, and yet there are over 40,000 opioid deaths in the United States every year.

  “Since you mentioned Colorado, you might also know that the state has collected over a half-billion in taxes since marijuana was legalized. Most of the money went to schools and the rest to drug treatment programs.

  “Look, I know that this is a big issue in a conservative state like Missouri. All I’m asking is that you become informed about the pros and cons. Since 60% of Missourians favor legalization of medical marijuana, I think it’s only fair that the citizens of this great state should have the right to choose this November.

  “Thank you.”

  Many in the audience applauded, but I could see that others were far from convinced.

  “That young lady is a fireball,” Maggie said. “She gave me a lot to think about. Are you ready to head home?”

  “Not quite yet,” I replied. “Kristen had another real scare this evening. Kevin and I want to make sure she gets to her room safely and reassure her that the imminent thr
eat has been taken care of.”

  Maggie was skeptical. “I noticed you said ‘imminent.’ You think she could still be in danger, don’t you?”

  I can’t fool Maggie.

  “It’s possible. Ramon may have been taken out of the picture, but what’s to say that the guy in Columbia won’t send someone else? Plus, the specter of Big Pharma lurking in the background bothers me. Can you hitch a ride with Dad, Bernice, and Mary?”

  “Of course, but you be careful. The thought of drug lords and hired assassins scares the bejesus out of me.”

  “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  Irina Petrov had been content to sit back and watch the events of the evening unfold.

  She was surprised when she learned that another hit man had been sent to silence the woman. At first, she thought that her employer had sent a backup, but then it became clear that he was employed by a Columbian drug lord.

  She was amused that her counterpart had been subdued by an old woman with a bat.

  It had also become clear to her that Hartman had body guards watching her back, but from what she had seen, her security team consisted of two old men. Not much of a threat.

  As the evening progressed, she put together a plan.

  She would create a diversion that would occupy her elderly guards, then make her move when the Hartman woman was alone.

  CHAPTER 18

  Several of the women had baked cookies, and after the presentation a small group gathered around the table filled with goodies and a coffee urn. Kristen was holding court, trying to persuade those still on the fence to support her initiative.

  I waited until there was a lull to approach her.

  “Quite an evening. Are you about ready to call it a day?”

  “Just a little while longer,” she replied. “I’ll stay as long as people have questions.”

  “I understand. Kevin and I will hang around until you’re finished. We want to make sure you get back to your room safely.”