Terminal Justice: Mystery and Suspense Crime Thriller

by Lyle Howard

  Williams inched his chair closer to the edge of the bed. “I’m not here to pull any punches with you, Gabe. You know that’s not how I operate.”

  Gabe adjusted the pillow under his head as he studied the somber expression on his captain’s face.

  “The timing on all of this couldn’t be worse. First, every police department in South Florida is feeling the fallout from Waxman’s not guilty verdict over on Miami Beach.”

  Gabe was genuinely surprised. He heard the reporter mention something about the story, but he wasn’t really paying attention. “What did you say about Waxman?”

  Williams squirmed in his chair. “Can you believe it? That son-of-a-bitch was acquitted a few days ago and, even though our department had nothing to do with the investigation, suddenly every law enforcement official in Dade County is under the microscope from every federal alphabet agency you can think of!”

  Gabe wondered just how much more of the world had whizzed past him in the last six days. “But how is that possible? I thought the D.A.’s case against him was airtight?”

  “Well, you know what happens to a jar when it’s supposed to be airtight and it springs a leak? You don’t notice anything until you go to use it, and then find everything inside has turned rancid and stinks to high heaven!”

  “So what stunk inside?”

  “Ah,” Williams said, waving his hand carelessly, “the D.A.’s making some noise about jury tampering, but he’s coming off sounding like sour grapes. If they can’t find enough evidence to prove that the Mayor of Miami Beach shot gunned his wife in cold blood, how the hell do they plan on ferreting out a bribed juror?” He shook his head. “Ain’t never gonna happen. The prosecution screwed the pooch.”

  Gabe frowned. “And now, my mess.”

  Williams rubbed his enormous hand over his bloodshot eyes. “Yeah, and now your mess.”

  There was a pregnant pause while both men sat quietly and contemplated their futures. Finally, Williams stood up and put his foot on the chair. “This situation is no good, Gabe. You’ve put the department in a very tenuous position here.”

  Out in the hall, a series of chimes rang out, followed by a female voice calling for a “Code Blue in room 622.” Someone’s life was on the line, but Gabe’s Captain never flinched.

  “So is it true?” Gabe asked.

  Williams crossed his arms over his expansive chest. “Is what true?”

  “What the reporters were saying out there? That no one in the department trusts me anymore?”

  Williams walked over to the window and peered through the curtains. The parking lot was jammed with television vans, and the lawn was blanketed by a flock of news anchors all setting up for their midday broadcasts. The captain let the drapes fall shut. “Well, I wouldn’t say anyone’s exactly taking numbers to be your partner!”

  Gabe tried to sit up. “I don’t need a partner, Captain!”

  Williams looked down at his spit-shined Florsheims and shook his head. “You can’t be serious, Gabe! You can’t come back. I already spoke with Doctor Sanborn. He told me how far along you are.”

  “Did he tell you that I can have radiation therapy and there are other things that can prolong…”

  Williams stopped him mid-sentence, his voice as determined as his expression. “Prolong what, Gabe? The inevitable? Forget the fact that none of your fellow officers want anything to do with you. If it were only that simple, I would have gladly issued a transfer, or written a letter of recommendation for another division in a heartbeat. But dammit, Gabe, you’ve got terminal cancer … in your brain! I don’t mean to sound heartless, but good God man, you’re dying! Spend whatever quality time you have left with Casey. Take in a ballgame with him. Smell the roses.”

  Gabe looked down at his hands. They were trembling. “So you want my badge?”

  Williams kicked his toe harmlessly at the floor. “I’ve already got your badge, Gabe. I had it before I ever stepped foot in this hospital.”

  “Oh…”

  “This visit was nothing more than a formality to bring you up to speed … I’m really sorry.”

  Gabe took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was no way in hell he was going to fall apart in front of his boss. “So what now?”

  The captain stood at the foot of Gabe’s bed and toyed with the buttons that adjusted the bed’s elevation. “I can’t tell you what to do. You could probably hire a lawyer and come after the department for some kind of settlement, but you know what the courts are like. Casey would probably be your age before he saw any reparation.” Williams walked around the bed and leaned on the back of the chair. “If I were in your shoes, I think I’d forget about the past, focus on making the most of the time you have left. In two weeks, the newspapers will have played out this story, and those hyenas out there will be chasing after their next meal. As far as the department is concerned, you’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing or accountability. There are no charges you’ll have to face in regard to Joanne’s death. You’ll be given the usual severance package…”

  Gabe raised a skeptical eyebrow. “But no pension.”

  Williams frowned. “Uh, no. No pension. Considering the circumstances, I think the chief is being more than fair with you. Of course, the medical expenses for this visit will be taken care of.”

  Gabe winked wryly. “But not for future ones.”

  Williams shook his head.

  “Tell the chief that’s very magnanimous of him.”

  Williams rubbed his forehead. His hands were tied. He wasn’t going to come out and say it, but he had already been warned by his commander that if he had any aspirations for higher office, he had to cut his association with Gabe as quickly as possible. The climb to City Hall was a steep one for blacks in law enforcement—especially in the South—and this whole Gabe Mitchell fiasco could prove to be a very slippery rung on the ladder for him. He didn’t want to sound uncaring, but the sooner the public forgot about Detective Gabe Mitchell, the better it would be for everybody involved. “Look, Gabe,” he said with a straight face, “I’m just the messenger here. I went to bat for you when no one else in the department would!”

  “I appreciate that, sir.”

  Williams reached out and squeezed Gabe’s foot. “I’m telling you, use whatever time you’ve got to give your boy a lifetime of memories. Take him away somewhere where you two can be together without all those buzzards out there stalking you. If you can manage to impart one-tenth of your courage and tenacity into the boy, he’ll be set for the rest of his life.”

  Gabe nodded. “Thanks for those kind words, Captain. I’ll think about it. Right now, I just think I’ve got to start getting all my ducks in a row. I may not have a future, but I sure as hell have to ensure that my son has one.”

  Williams walked over toward the door. “Well, you know, if there’s anything that you need…”

  The captain’s departure was interrupted by the door swinging open. Bennett Chase was back, this time escorting Gabe’s son Casey and his overweight, silver-haired housekeeper, Marta Diegas, into the room. “They’re like a pack of rabid wolves out there!” Chase declared. “Absolute insanity!”

  Williams mussed the boy’s thick brown hair. “How ‘ya doin’, butch? All those reporters didn’t frighten you, did they?”

  Casey pulled himself close to the housekeeper and buried his head against her rotund thigh. “He’s just a-scared,” she apologized in her best fractured English.

  Williams rubbed the young boy’s back tenderly before he stepped out into the corridor. He could only imagine the hardships that lay ahead for the kid. Yeah, this world really sucked sometimes!

  15

  Gabe lowered the railing alongside his bed and patted an empty space on the mattress where he’d made room. “Hey, lil’ bud, jump on up here!”

  Casey Mitchell was every bit a seven-year-old boy. Wearing a blue checkerboard flannel shirt, faded jeans, high top Chuck Taylor sneakers that he refused to lace, and carrying a teal an
d black Marlin’s cap, the youngster looked up skeptically at his housekeeper and nanny, Marta Diegas. “It’s okay, child. Don’t be afraid of the machines!”

  Gabe patted the bed again. “Come on, slugger. Here, I made some room for you! How’s grandma and grandpa treating you?”

  The child looked over at Bennett Chase who was leaning against the railings of his own bed. “Go on, kid. He’s your old man, for gosh sake! He ain’t gonna bite ya’!”

  Gabe watched his son inch closer toward the bed, reminding him of the time the boy had climbed into the dentist’s chair for the first time. Gabe wondered what was going through his son’s mind. He sure looked like his father, but there were all of these electronic gizmos around him—it was enough to traumatize an adult, much less an impressionable seven-year-old.

  “What the matter, Casey?” Gabe asked. “Don’t you have a hug for your old man?” He patted at the sheets beside him for a third time.

  Casey reached out an arm and Gabe grabbed it. No matter how weak he felt, that small palm in his hand gave him the strength of an entire army. In one fluid motion, he swept his son up onto the bed.

  His mother’s face … it was a gift that was more precious than gold. Even tearing up, Casey’s eyes seemed to sparkle like amber stones in a pool of clear water. Gabe reached up and brushed a few errant curls off the boy’s forehead. “Why the sour puss, kiddo?”

  Casey didn’t respond; instead, his face began to knot up as the small boy’s anxiety bubbled to the surface. Marta reached into her oversized purse and pulled out a handkerchief and blotted his face. “Everything ees fine now, Casey. No need to be sad. You see? Your father he loves you.”

  “Those … people … out … there,” the boy whimpered, “they … they wouldn’t leave us alone!”

  Gabe glanced over at Bennett Chase. “Those sons of bitches,” the old man growled, “pardon my French, kid … they were all over them. It was a good thing I was out there to run interference.”

  Gabe shot the old man a “thumbs up.” “Thanks Bennett, I owe you one.”

  “Maybe next time, they should call first … or maybe come up some back way.”

  Marta Diegas nodded emphatically. “Sí, I will.”

  Gabe didn’t want to lose his cool in front of his son, but all this hounding was absurd. “They shouldn’t have to call first or sneak around to see me!”

  Chase agreed. “Yeah … maybe in a perfect world.”

  All of this intrigue and suspicion was clearly too much for Casey. All his son wanted was to be held, so Gabe pulled him close and kissed the top of his head. “Everything will be alright, kid … I promise.”

  Gabe nodded to the housekeeper, who understood what lay ahead for the boy.

  “When are you getting out of here, Dad?” Casey asked, pressing his face into his father’s chest.

  Gabe ran his hand up and down his son’s back. “Pretty soon, I’m told,” he whispered, kissing his son’s head again.

  No matter how naive the boy appeared to be, whether it was intuition or some inner-vibe he picked up on from his father, Casey reached around and embraced Gabe tighter than he had ever done before. It was a moment to be cherished … a breathless, spectacular epiphany for both father and son … a bonding few children would ever hope to share with a parent … an unspoken, heartfelt, declaration of their unbounded love for one another.

  “Can I stay here with you, until you’re better?”

  Gabe cradled his son’s head against his chest. “I wish you could son, but the doctors are pretty strict around here.”

  “Like Marta strict?”

  The housekeeper’s eyes opened wide.

  “Marta isn’t strict, is she?”

  Casey looked up at his father. “She wouldn’t let me stay up for Law and Order last night.”

  Gabe pushed the boy away until they were facing each other eye to eye. “And did I ever let you stay up to watch it on a school night?”

  Casey shook his head. “No, but you know how to work the VCR … she doesn’t! All she can do is make it flash 12:00!”

  “Well, I should be home way before next Sunday, so what do ya’ say I come over to Grandma and Grandpa’s and we can watch it together?”

  “I can stay up?”

  Gabe buttoned one of his son’s buttons that had come undone. “Sure. We got a date?”

  Casey stuck out his tongue at his nanny, and then shook his father’s hand one time with emphasis. “It’s a date!”

  Gabe took Casey’s baseball cap and slipped it onto his own head. The petite hat sat atop his hair like a beanie. His son looked at him like he was crazy. “What’s the matter? Too small?”

  “You look silly, Dad!”

  Gabe looked over at his roommate. “What d’ya think?”

  Bennett Chase shrugged. “Looks like a swell fit to me.”

  Casey snatched the cap off his father’s head and put it on proudly, displaying it for everyone in the room to admire. “See? This is how it’s supposed to go!”

  Bennett waved it off. “Nah, I liked it better on your old man.”

  “Really?”

  The old man shambled over and stood next to the housekeeper. “Yeah, I think so. It makes his head look like it’s got more in it than it really does.”

  Casey narrowed his eyes suspiciously and put the cap back on his father’s head. “You sure?”

  “Hey,” Gabe interrupted, “don’t I get a say in any of this?”

  Casey had crawled onto his knees and Gabe found himself scooting to the far edge of the bed to make enough room. It felt just like Sunday mornings used to be at their house. Forget about watching the Cartoon Network. If he knew his father was home, at six-thirty on the button, come hell or high water, Casey would storm into his bedroom like a Tasmanian Devil, leaving total havoc in his wake. Not always a welcome sight if Gabe had been pulling overtime by working the Saturday night 9 P.M. to 2 A.M. shift—how he had fantasized about throwing his kid through a wall on more than a few of those mornings—but now, how lucky he felt recalling those bittersweet times.

  Casey … seven years old, and so easily distracted. It was scary the way this kid could go from despondency to hyper-activity in less than a nanosecond. Today was the first time Gabe thanked heaven for his child’s naiveté.

  “Maybe we should find one that fits me better,” Gabe said, handing the cap back to his son as he made the decision. “As soon as they let me out of here, we’ll go shopping for one, and then we can walk around town looking like twins! Maybe we’ll even go to a Marlin’s game! How’s that sound?”

  Again his son looked at him incorrigibly. “It’s only February, Dad! Baseball season doesn’t start for another two months!”

  Gabe held up his hand. “Go ahead and hit me. I forgot.”

  Casey playfully slapped his father’s wrist, careful not to touch the feeding tube. “But maybe we can go to one in April? Box seats?”

  How far off April seemed, even though he knew the seconds, minutes, hours and days, would zoom by before he knew it. What kind of physical shape would he be in by then? He had seen it all before on the streets, on television, in the movies—skeletons with skin, frail walking corpses, oxygen bottles and open lesions. He’d kill himself before he ever let himself deteriorate to that point. “Sure, kiddo, pick a game and we’re there … box seats!”

  Casey stretched out his legs and took up a position lying next to his father. Side by side, their forms seemed to fit together perfectly. Someone might take Gabe Mitchell’s place in his son’s life, but no one would ever be able to replace him.

  With a nod of his head toward the hallway, Gabe signaled to his roommate that the moment he had been dreading had arrived. Without further urging, the old man took Marta Diegas by the arm and escorted her toward the door. “Why don’t you and I take a walk down to the cafeteria and see if we can’t get ourselves some of that cafe con leche that’s been known to grow hair on a person’s teeth … whatd’ya say?”

  Now it wa
s family time. There were grownup realities and harsh truths that Gabe needed to simplify for his son, and he had to do it in private. Gabe watched Marta look lovingly at the boy and then reach down into the collar of her blouse and pull out the gold cross that her mother had given her as a child. Gabe knew it was a sacrosanct charm which she wore around her neck everyday of her life. The housekeeper kissed the cross, closed her eyes, and recited a silent benediction. When she returned to the room, none of their lives would ever be the same again.

  Innocence would be lost—but inspiration and courage would be found. He hoped.

  16

  For reasons they both chose not to verbalize, the hospital room felt colder and lonelier than usual this morning.

  If his years of flying commercially had taught Bennett Chase anything, it was to pack his belongings economically. First, he laid out the few pairs of underwear he had brought with him, and then neatly rolled them into tight little logs. He followed those with his t-shirts, three pairs of white socks, two pair of velour sweat pants, and a royal blue and orange University of Florida sweatshirt. Once his cord of clothing logs was complete, everything fit easily into his garnet and gold Florida State Seminole duffle bag.

  Chase could feel Gabe’s eyes on him, watching in reverence as the old man packed his things. “So where’d you learn to pack like that?”

  Chase stuffed the underwear in first, filling the nylon bag layer by layer like an Egyptian slave building a pyramid. “Years of practice.”

  Small talk. A way to fill the uncomfortable minutes. Chase wasn’t very good at it. It was going to be tough to leave his newfound friend behind. They had grown close over the past few days, sharing a lifetime of thoughts, dreams and experiences. Chase had begun to think of Gabe as the son he had always regretted not having. Everything he tried to say sounded so forced and stilted.

  “Being able to pack a bag like that is a skill that must come in handy,” Gabe said.

  Chase began to fill up his black leather toiletry kit with shaving items off the nearby sink. The melancholy in his voice betrayed his normally jovial manner. “Not anymore. I learned to pack like this when I flew for the airlines. It’s just another one of those trivial talents people seem to acquire over their lifetime.”