Will of Justice_A Legal Thriller

by Peter O'Mahoney

  “Not at all, Mr. Harvey,” Frank replies. “We’re a team here. That is what makes us so efficient as a charity. Please take a seat.” Frank points his open hand towards a chair opposite the desk. “I didn’t expect to see you here over the next couple of days. I expected that you would have been preoccupied with the trial.”

  Frank stands and walks over to the cabinet at the right side of the room, opening the cabinet door to expose a large selection of expensive spirits. He takes two glass cups in his left hand, places them on the desk, and then pours two glasses of whiskey.

  Once poured, he hands one across to Bill.

  “Thank you, Frank,” Bill says, slowly sitting down after taking the drink. “It’s funny that you should mention the court case. That’s the reason why I’m here.”

  Frank clears his throat with a deep cough, and sits on the edge of the desk, positioning himself in a more authoritative position than the defense lawyer.

  “Please, Bill Harvey, tell me how I can help.” Frank’s voice has a tone of mockery.

  Pausing to take a whiff of the whiskey, and then a sip, Bill looks into Frank’s green eyes. “The murder trial is going as expected. This afternoon, we had Mr. John Morgan on the stand. He said a few interesting things when questioned about the situation. Tell me, how well do you know Bud?”

  “Very well.”

  “Do you care to elaborate on that relationship?”

  Frank draws a long breath and looks away from Bill’s glare. “I first met Bud after he came to a support group for veterans who were struggling with their return to reality. He was in quite a bad way at that time. Over the next year or so, he got better and asked me if I would like to help other people like him. We got Norman Chester onboard as a sponsor, and he was just giving us money. Then Norman passed away, and we found that Norman had left money to the charity in his will. I have been beside Bud ever since then. He’s a good man. He suffered post-traumatic stress disorder, and that’s a horrible thing. It can ruin a person’s life from the inside out. You don’t want to see what that’s done to some of our great veterans. Great people have been turned in blubbering messes. It’s ruthless.”

  Buzz.

  Just as Bill goes to respond, his phone buzzes in his pocket. “Excuse me,” he says to Frank. “This message might be important.”

  As Bill reads the text message from his investigator Jack Grayson, a smile carves across his face. Jack has confirmed what Bill had expected.

  And the reason he’s in Frank’s office now.

  “You served in the Gulf War, Frank?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “And who with?”

  “The army.” Frank stares hard at the man opposite him.

  “That’s funny. Because there is a record of your name serving in the army… but the only photo of you in the army doesn’t match your face. It’s a photo of someone else. Do you find that strange?”

  “No.” Frank chuckles as he stands up and walks behind the desk to sit down in the large office chair. “Back then, staying alive was more important than keeping records. It wasn’t like it is today – not everything is recorded every time. When you’re fighting in a war, keeping records become second place. They messed up the photo. That’s no big deal.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  Bill takes a deep breath. “Do you think that the men and women you served with would recognize you?”

  “Of course.”

  “And if we brought one of those people into the courtroom, they would say that under oath?”

  “What are you implying, Bill?” Frank raises his voice as his left fist clenches.

  “You didn’t serve in the Gulf War, did you?”

  “I don’t like your tone. I don’t like it at all. I don’t like what you’re saying.”

  “And Jessica found that out, didn’t she?”

  “I think it’s time for you to leave. I don’t have time to listen to fanciful stories.”

  “From our first interaction, it was clear that you weren’t a veteran. You don’t have the posture of a veteran. You don’t have rugged skin, your hair isn’t perfectly clipped, and your shirt is badly ironed. Now I could have accepted one of those mistakes. But all of them? No. It was clear to me that you have never served this country.”

  “Come now,” Frank says, calming down with a smile. He leans back in his chair, full of confidence. “This story is a bit far-fetched. Clearly, you’re barking up the wrong tree. All you’re trying to do is deflect the attention away from Anna.”

  “That’s the thing, Frank. I’ve recently come across some evidence that changes this case,” Bill says with a grin on his face.

  “Ha!” Frank laughs. “If you had evidence, then you wouldn’t be sitting here. You would be exposing that to the world. You don’t have evidence of anything. All you have is a theory. And you can take your little theory away from here now. I’m a busy man, and I don’t have time to listen to your stories. I don’t have time for this sort of stress. I have people to help.”

  As Bill goes to respond, his phone buzzes again in his pocket:

  Bill. Get out of there. Frank isn’t who he says he is. He’s a criminal with a long history of violence. His criminal record is under the name Frank Matthews – but a different Frank Matthews. Born on the same day, one year earlier.

  “More stupid theories?” Frank smiles as he looks at the confusion on Bill’s face.

  “Tell me, why would you impersonate a veteran?” Bill asks directly.

  “I can assure you, I’m not impersonating anyone. I am Frank Matthews.”

  “But you’re not the Frank Matthews that you say you are. You were born one year earlier than the veteran, Frank Matthews.”

  The air in the room instantly becomes hostile.

  Frank’s eyes lose any sense of emotion.

  His body stature changes.

  Bill feels the anger, fear, and pain grow in the room.

  Slowly and steadily, Frank stands from behind the desk. He walks to the office door, slowly opens it, and calls out to his secretary, “Helen, be a good girl and go home now.”

  “I just need to finish—”

  “Please, Helen. Go home.” Frank’s voice is emotionless.

  Bill waits for the response, his heart rate rising by the second.

  “Yes, sir,” the secretary replies timidly.

  Frank turns, closes the office door, and slowly clicks the lock shut.

  CHAPTER 24

  “I’ll be going now.” Bill stands from his chair.

  Frank still has his back turned to Bill when he replies, “No. You and I need to discuss this theory of yours further, Bill. I don’t think that you should be able to walk into my office, make wild accusations, and not have to explain them. Trust me, you aren’t going anywhere now.”

  Bill stands tall as Frank turns around to stare at him. With his heart pounding against the walls of his chest, his thought process is clear. He cannot let Frank reach the desk. As an army veteran, he has no doubt that Bud Morgan would have a weapon in one of the top drawers.

  Bill must stand his ground and try to talk his way out of the situation.

  Words have to be his weapon.

  “Everyone has secrets. Everyone. I’m sure that you have your secrets as well. I have my own secrets that need to remain just that – secret. And I’ll do anything to protect them.”

  “I know very little, Frank.” Bill stands straight – tough – attempting to assert dominance in the environment. His chest is pressed out, his chin up.

  Frank notices his reaction, but it doesn’t bother him. Violence is his language. “You know more than you’re telling me. It seems to me that you know a lot. It seems to me that you know enough to destroy what I have. It seems to me that you know enough to tear down everything I have worked so hard for.”

  With an aggressive stare, Bill watches Frank, who is still standing by the door. Bill has thrown many punches before in his life and isn’t s
cared of doing so again, but Frank Matthews is an equally physically imposing figure.

  Frank’s shoulders have tightened, his heart rate has increased, and his focus is clear.

  His gaze is solely following the chin of Bill Harvey. That is his target. That is his goal.

  “It can be our secret. Just a small secret between you and I.” Bill lowers his voice to calm the room. “I have no need to disclose any information to anyone. Now, I’m going to leave this room.”

  At six-foot-four, Bill Harvey is used to dominating most tense situations. However, Frank Matthews stands as tall and as broad as Bill.

  “Like I said, Bill, you and I need to discuss this matter further. If you would please sit back down.” Frank indicates towards the chair.

  “I’m not sitting back down.”

  “Have it your way.” Frank shrugs. He can feel his pulse quicken. And he loves it. “But I cannot let you take all this away from me. I cannot let this life go. This is my life now, Bill. No one else’s. All this is mine.” Frank starts to walk slowly towards Bill. “Do you understand that, Bill Harvey? This is my life, and nobody is going to take that away from me.”

  The thoughts begin to race through Bill’s mind.

  There is a cold anger in Frank’s eyes as he approaches, but Bill holds his ground.

  Their stares are matched.

  But Frank continues until he’s in Bill’s personal space.

  Bill’s heart is pounding, staring at his aggressor.

  And then…

  Smash.

  One man falls.

  CHAPTER 25

  In boxing, they say that if you’re punched hard on the nose, it’s incredibly painful, but if you’re hit hard on the chin, it doesn’t hurt at all… because you won’t remember it.

  Bill Harvey’s vision blurs as he looks around his surroundings. He’s lying face down on the floor and can taste blood in his mouth. His jaw has taken a heavy blow. His tongue runs over his cut upper lip, and he can feel the blood on his chin.

  He wipes his lip with the back of his hand and looks closely at the smeared blood. As the fog in his head clears, he remembers where he is. His head flicks to the right, looking for any movement behind him.

  There is none.

  As he begins to push himself up, still dazed, he smells the smoke of a cigar.

  “Ahh… Bill, glad to see you’re awake. I was worried that you weren’t going to wake up.” Frank’s voice is full of arrogance. “Of course, that would have saved me from having to do what I’m going to do next.”

  Bill turns his head to the left to see Frank sitting on a chair near him, his legs spread wide in a show of alpha dominance. He sits nonchalantly, arms resting on the supports, with a cigar in one hand and a handgun in the other.

  “Don’t worry about standing up. You can just sit there on the ground.” Frank waves the black revolver at Bill, making sure he knows it’s there.

  Pushing himself into a sitting position, Bill leans against the cupboard behind him, his legs still sprawled outwards. As his focus becomes less blurry, he stares at Frank.

  “That was a quick right hand. I don’t think I even saw it.”

  Frank laughs. “I grew up in a boxing gym. I spent years training my right hand to be quicker than the eyes of my opponent. Those skills have stayed with me for life.”

  Wiping the blood from his chin, Bill questions, “So, what happens now?”

  “That, Bill, is up to you.”

  “Okay. I would like to leave.”

  Frank bursts out laughing. “Well, maybe it’s not totally up to you.”

  “Tell me.” Bill attempts to buy some time while he considers his next steps. “Did Jessica find out who you were? Is that why you killed her?”

  Frank chuckles. “You’re a clever man. A very clever man indeed.” Frank ponders his thoughts for a time while he looks out the window. He draws a long, tired breath before he continues. “Jessica had known about my secret for a while. She’s a very clever woman as well. As it turned out, she had a friend who also served with the real Frank Matthews. The man saw a photo of Jessica and me together and said that I wasn’t the Frank Matthews that he served with. Jessica confronted me about it years ago, but I convinced her to keep quiet.”

  “How did you convince her to lie for you?”

  “Jessica Lempare wasn’t an angel. She had some things in her past that she wasn’t proud of. She was once convicted of theft when she traveled to Mexico, you know? It happened fifty years ago when she was only young. No one else knew that. She kept that really quiet. She told me that it was a misunderstanding, and after she had spent a night in a Mexican prison, she vowed never to travel again. I guess we came to a mutual agreement about keeping secrets.” Frank sighs.

  “You threatened that if she exposed your lie, you would expose hers?”

  “You could say that, Bill,” Frank says. “And I don’t consider it a lie anymore. I have lived this life for such a long time, that I’m not interested in the past. I am Frank Matthews. This is who I am. This is what I do.”

  “Take advantage of veterans?”

  “I haven’t taken advantage of veterans. I’ve helped them. I have helped countless people get their lives back on track. I have helped those that defended us. I have helped the men and women who gave their souls for this country and were forgotten about. I’m a good man, Bill. I haven’t taken advantage of anyone.”

  “But you have been well paid for it. I saw the accounts for the charity – you have to be one of the best-paid charity workers in the city. You also receive a pension from the army, and that isn’t rightfully yours.”

  “Maybe last year… maybe. But not this year. I haven’t even gotten paid a single cent this year. I actually donated all my money back into the charity for a program to help those with post-traumatic stress disorder. I’ve changed. Yes, when I started all this, it was about the money. Sure. That was it. I enjoyed collecting the pension. It turned my life around. And then when I was getting paid by the charity, well, I afforded some very nice holidays. But now, it’s not about the money. It’s about helping people. It’s about making the world a better place.”

  “Then why kill Jessica?”

  “Because she was going to give Anna all the money. All of it. That damn spoilt brat convinced Jessica to give her the money. She called me to her apartment to tell me the details. Anna had convinced Jessica that the education that travel provides was as important as completing Army Basic Training. Can you believe that? Jessica changed her mind. And she said she would expose me if I didn’t sign the document of approval. I’m the deputy CEO of this charity, and my approval would have meant that the will was changed without question. How could I have explained that to Bud? How could I have explained that to anyone?”

  “If you signed the document to approve the change in the will, the charity wouldn’t get the funds anymore…”

  “But if Jessica died, well, the charity would get at least half of the money. Ten million dollars. That is the minimum that the charity will receive after the estate is sorted.”

  “That was enough money to murder her for?”

  “I’ve murdered for less.” Frank’s voice is cold and devoid of any remorse. “All my hard work, years of it, goes down the drain because a spoiled brat wanted all the money. Just when I thought I could really help the veterans, the charity would have to fold. Without the money contribution from the estate, our charity wouldn’t survive. It’s how we afford to help so many people, Bill. That was our lifeline, and it was about to be taken away. I was furious that Jessica could do that. She knew how much we relied on those funds. She knew how much we needed her support. How could she choose to change the will?”

  There is silence as Bill stares at his attacker, waiting for him to continue.

  “Bill, I’m asking you a legal question. How could she have changed it?” Frank’s expression shows his confusion.

  “The will states that Anna needs an education by virtue of Army Basic
Training. However, the word education could be interpreted differently. I guess, Jessica changed her mind on that. And with your approval, then the will would be changed without question.”

  “I couldn’t let it all go. I couldn’t let her take it all away from us. The veterans needed the money – not the spoilt brat. She never did anything for this country.”

  “Her whole family gave their lives for this country. Anna’s family has paid the ultimate price for this country.”

  “Yes, her family did, but that’s not Anna. She didn’t do anything to defend our freedoms.”

  “And nor did you. You’re a criminal, not a veteran. You haven’t given a thing for this country.”

  Frank stares at Bill with cold, bitter rage.

  A few moments pass before Frank stands and begins to pace the room, the handgun still held tightly in his right hand.

  “I was a criminal. That who I was, but that was a past life. It should be forgotten about. I didn’t want to be a criminal, Bill. I really didn’t want it. That’s just who I was. I was the victim of a bad childhood – I had no other choice but to turn to crime. It was the only way I could survive. My mother died of a drug overdose when I was twelve, and I never knew my father. I had to scrap and fight for everything I had. I stole things, lots of things. Cars, money, anything of value. But I did my time for that. I paid the price for my mistakes. And then…” Frank continues to pace the room. “Then the social security office mixed my number up. I don’t know how they did it, it was just one of those things. A stroke of luck. When I stepped out of prison, I was a different Frank Matthews. I was receiving veteran benefits and acknowledgment for what I did for this country. It took me a while to get used to it.”

  “And what happened to the real Frank Matthews? The one that served for his country?”