Justice Served: A Barkley and Parker Thriller

by Flowers, R. Barri

Could Vivian have subconsciously wanted to lose the child and found a way to do so short of an abortion, as a sort of self-fulfilled prophecy?

  Or am I just being influenced by a doctor’s overactive imagination?

  Feeling it was best to leave Stuart and Vivian alone to share their grief, Carole left the hospital.

  Though the prospect of Vivian possibly playing a role in terminating her pregnancy was troubling, to say the least, it was not something Carole wanted to be involved with.

  She had her own demons to face.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Eddie Jackson had been dead for approximately twelve hours, according to the medical examiner. His brother, who had a key to the house, found his badly beaten, bloodied, and disfigured body. Police technicians combed the place for possible evidence, with yellow crime scene tape cordoning off the property.

  “Someone sure worked this dude over,” groaned Ray as he observed the latest handiwork of the so-called Vigilante Batterer Killer. The bat—coated with blood and what looked like brain matter from practically top to bottom—was her calling card, leaving little doubt as to its purpose as the murder weapon. It lay near the head of the corpse, as a reminder of the damage the murderer had inflicted on it in specific, and the entire body of the victim in general.

  “Looks like our killer is getting bolder,” remarked Nina. “She’s even willing to follow her victim home now and do them in.”

  “Maybe she already had the place staked out,” Ray suggested, “and was waiting here when Jackson arrived.”

  It didn’t take much digging to learn the decedent had just copped a plea, ending his trial prematurely. Or, for that matter, that it all took place in Judge Carole Cranston’s courtroom.

  All of which disturbed Ray, but did nothing to make him believe Carole was involved in any way. Though clearly someone wanted them to think in those terms.

  “If our killer was at the trial,” he said, “she would have had plenty of time to beat Jackson here, then take him by surprise.”

  “I agree.” Nina nodded thoughtfully. “And I’ll just bet this was the surprise of his life—or should I say death...”

  Ray sighed. “He probably didn’t even had a chance.” That was the advantage the killer had over her victims: catching them off guard and unable to react before it was too late.

  They sidestepped the body like it was a poisonous snake and made their way outside, where permission was given to remove the deceased.

  Walking towards their car, Nina said: “We’re definitely dealing with a woman who believes in making sure the deck is heavily stacked in her favor.”

  Ray’s brows furrowed. “All the more reason why we have to catch her while we still have a few cards up our sleeves.”

  Nina looked at him dubiously. “You aren’t hoarding any cards you haven’t told me about, are you, Barkley?”

  “Would I hold out on you, Parker?” he said earnestly. “I think not.”

  She gave him the evil eye. “So what’s up with these cards?”

  He faced her. “Well, we know our killer’s connected in some way to the shelter and the court, as well as indirectly to who she’s targeting. And we know she has more than likely been abused by one or more men, probably badly enough that she has nightmares about it, which she turns into a private hell against others who fit the bill. That gives us something to work with and maybe more than she realizes. Now all we have to do is try to get one step ahead of the killer.”

  Nina sneered. “Try telling that to our superiors. I’d say they’re probably sweating bullets about now. Wondering if we have our heads stuck up our asses.”

  Ray tried to smile, but couldn’t. Not when he knew she was right. It wasn’t just batterers whose lives were on the line. They were also on the spot with this case. The longer it took to catch this elusive killer, the tighter the noose would be around their necks.

  He put his hands to his throat, as if feeling the increasing pressure.

  * * *

  Stella Howard had been the last known person to see Eddie Jackson alive, aside from his killer. Ray and Nina sat in her office on the fifth floor of the Ticknor Building downtown, hoping she might be able to provide information that could be helpful.

  Ray studied the small stature of the attorney. He tried to imagine her as a murderess. What better cover than to represent scum like Jackson only to kill them later?

  For some reason this very thought made him think of Carole. She also had the perfect cover for a killer, given her association with the court and outside interest in domestic violence—right down to being a contributor to the Rose City Women’s Shelter. But he knew that reality gave way to such far-fetched macabre scenarios. Neither Carole nor Stella fit the psychological profile of a serial killer or psychopath. In Stella’s case, even her body type was inconsistent. The tall, statuesque woman they were looking for was far less balanced and much more cunning and dangerous.

  “I dropped Eddie off at his house at around seven-thirty—” Stella was saying, sitting behind her mahogany desk, seemingly too large for her. Her wide-eyed look betrayed the shock of his death.

  “Did you see anyone else?” Ray asked.

  “Not that I can remember.”

  “What about cars?” Nina looked at her. “Did you see any that you can identify? Make? Model?”

  Stella flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you there either,” she uttered regrettably. “I’m usually pretty good at details, but I guess my mind was preoccupied—”

  “Did Eddie give you any indication he was expecting company?” Ray asked, though he doubted the man had any knowledge of his deadly visitor.

  “No,” Stella said. “Eddie Jackson kept to himself for the most part.”

  “Maybe there was someone at the courthouse that he talked to?” questioned Nina. “Or seemed unusually attentive toward?”

  Stella considered this. “Only Judge Cranston,” she said nonchalantly. She added: “But, of course, that’s not what you wanted to hear, is it?”

  Nina and Ray exchanged glances, each thoughtful.

  Ray looked at Stella and said: “We believe whoever killed Jackson probably attended his trial or stayed close to it. The killer probably either followed him home or got there before he did. Anything at all you can remember or tell us might help us find whoever did this to your client.”

  Stella fidgeted. “I’m sorry, but this has really freaked me out. I actually thought about Eddie Jackson being a possible target of this vigilante killer, but the fact it actually happened—”

  “Unfortunately it may not be the last time it happens,” warned Ray. “As long as the killer remains on the loose, no man in this town can afford to let his guard down.”

  “There’s nothing else I can tell you,” Stella voiced, “that I haven’t already said. Except—”

  She hesitated, prompting Nina to urge her on. “What...?”

  Stella gazed away and back again. “Well, Eddie sort of came on to me just before I dropped him off. It was kind of eerie and uncomfortable. I remember thinking that he wasn’t the type of man I could ever be interested in.” She sighed. “I guess in a strange way, someone else was—”

  Ray sneered. “Yeah, whoever put Jackson out of commission had an unnatural interest in abusive men.”

  “I really hope you catch her—soon!” Stella said. “It’s reaching the point where many lawyers are beginning to question the wisdom of getting their clients off, only to see them killed by someone who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—accept the outcome of the case.”

  “Maybe you should try switching to the other side,” suggested Nina dryly. “It seems prosecutors are in a no lose position these days. They either win the case outright or do so by a self-appointed judge and jury.”

  Stella shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I like to know I win or lose my cases fair and square.”

  Ray concurred. Unlike the woman they were looking for, who didn’t give a damn about fair and squar
e. She played only by her rules where she had every advantage over her opponent. Including a wooden bat she wasn’t afraid to use. Over and over again...

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Emilie Evans worked at a department store in Southwest Portland. Ray and Nina found her stocking shelves. The thirty-three-year-old former girlfriend of Eddie Jackson was nearly six feet tall and of medium build. She had big brown eyes and jet-black hair pulled back severely into a short ponytail. Her brown skin had an ashen tint and her nose was crooked from having been broken.

  The detectives identified themselves and Emilie smiled awkwardly, revealing her recently replaced teeth.

  “I guess I was expecting you,” she said, putting some cleaning products on the shelf. “Eddie’s brother phoned me with the news.”

  “Is there somewhere we can talk?” asked Ray.

  “Sure,” Emilie said, wiping her hands on her pants. “It’s time for my break anyway.”

  They went outside the store, where Emilie lit a cigarette.

  “So I guess you want to ask me about Eddie?” she asked, exhaling smoke through her nostrils.

  Ray studied the victim’s ex. “Had you seen or spoken to Jackson since his release?”

  “No.” Emilie sucked on the cigarette. “I had no reason to. We were through. After what he did to me, I never wanted to see him again.” She sighed. “To be honest with you, I was afraid he’d come after me after I testified against him.”

  “Only someone came after him with a bat instead,” noted Nina. “Do you know anything about that, Emilie?”

  She blinked her curly lashes. “If you’re asking me if I killed Eddie or had someone else do the job, the answer is no. I’m not stupid—not anymore, since I left that bastard. I know I’m the first one you’d suspect. But I could never have been involved in murder, no matter how much I hated the person.”

  “But you did hate Jackson enough to want him dead?” Nina asked straightforwardly, glancing at her partner.

  Emilie looked away. “No, I didn’t hate Eddie enough to want him dead,” she responded tersely. “I’m not even sure I hated him at all. I only wanted to be left alone and get on with my life.”

  “Can you account for your whereabouts last night between seven and eight o’clock?” Ray peered at her.

  “Yeah,” Emilie answered easily, taking a drag on the cigarette. “I was right here. Worked the cash register from five to nine. You can look at my time card, talk to my boss, or whatever.”

  Nina stepped forward. “Have you ever been to the Rose City Women’s Shelter?”

  Emilie drew a sharp breath. “A couple of times,” she replied self-consciously. “For a while there I felt as if I had nowhere else to go. The people at the shelter were really supportive of my situation.”

  Ray wondered if someone may have been too damned supportive. “Was there anyone you can think of at the shelter who seemed particularly hostile towards batterers?”

  “Yeah,” Emilie said matter-of-factly. “Everyone who’s ever been hit by a man. When you’re forced to live with strangers in a place that ain’t hardly the Ritz because you’re too afraid to go home, it makes you hostile toward all abusive men.”

  “Looks like someone did you a favor then,” Nina said. “Eddie Jackson won’t be around to hit you or anybody else ever again. His killer made damned certain of that with a bat and lots of hostility.”

  Emilie tossed the cigarette on the sidewalk and ground it out with her shoe. “You’ll probably find this hard to believe, but I really am sorry Eddie is dead. We used to be good together—even great. Maybe after he’d had some counseling or something he could have gotten better with his temper...and drinking. I don’t know—” She looked down at her shoes. “I guess none of that matters now, does it?”

  “It matters,” Ray told her. He felt a certain degree of sympathy for women like her who couldn’t seem to let go of the men who abused and conned them, even in death. He couldn’t even begin to put himself in their shoes any more than he could the woman who seemed hell bent on ridding the streets of such men.

  * * *

  It was nearly nine o’clock that night when Ray rang the bell at Carole’s building. He had missed her like crazy for a few days now, but work and long hours had kept them apart. Just as it was now bringing them back together.

  She buzzed him in.

  At her door Ray thought of just how lovely Carole was—seemingly more attractive each time he saw her. But he also saw a vulnerable side to the lady, one that he had yet to tap into.

  “Hello there, stranger,” Carole greeted him with a smile; practically modeling the slinky periwinkle dress she wore.

  “Hello yourself, baby.”

  Once inside, he kissed her hard on the mouth and she kissed him back just as hard. He could feel her trembling.

  Or was it him shaking?

  Ray pulled back and gazed into her cocoa eyes, wishing to hell he didn’t have to spoil the mood.

  “There’s been another murder—” he said bleakly.

  Carole blinked. “Eddie Jackson,” she stated knowingly.

  “Yeah,” Ray muttered. “Looks like the killer laid out a trap for him in his house. And he fell into it like a damned rat.”

  “Any leads yet?” Carole asked steadily.

  Their eyes locked as Ray considered the question.

  “Nothing that can lead to an arrest,” he told her honestly. “This woman’s been very good at covering her tracks and making us look bad.” That was putting it mildly.

  “I wish I could help you, Ray.” Carole furrowed her brow. “Or is that why you’re here? Do you need to know if I have an alibi for the time of Jackson’s death?”

  Ray felt knots forming in his stomach. “I’m not here to question you, Carole.” But since you brought it up...

  Carole seemed to read his mind. “It just so happens I was at the hospital helping a friend try to save her pregnancy—” Her voice trailed off. “Unfortunately, she lost her baby—”

  Ray could see how much this had affected her. And because of that it affected him, too. He was glad, though, that she could account for her whereabouts for others who might try to railroad her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” she lamented. “Sometimes the world is just so unfair.”

  “I know,” he told her sympathetically.

  “Even worse is that I’m not sure she really wanted the child she lost,” Carole reflected. “Certainly not as much as her husband did. Now they’re both being punished for it.”

  “Losing a child isn’t punishment, Carole.” Ray put his hand on her soft elbow. “It happens. And in most cases, there’s not a damned thing you can do, but deal with it.” He sensed she felt some sort of guilt, as though this was her fault. He was seeing a whole new side to the lady. One that showed just how much she cared about life over death. Not the type of woman capable of taking life.

  Carole seemed to take comfort in his words as Ray wrapped his virile arms around her.

  They kissed again, this time for a longer duration and a more profound sense of need. Ray could feel the stiffness of Carole’s body give way to the tenderness of his touch. They ended up in the bedroom where they made love.

  The sex was more passionate than ever, their bodies in harmony with their minds. Each raised the height of their intimacy to a new level of lovemaking, occupying all their thoughts and attention from head to toe and everything in between.

  Ray and Carole were pressed against each other on their sides, panting and grasping, limbs intertwined this way and that, desperate to achieve every ounce of satisfaction from one another as if tomorrow would never come. When it was over, all that was left was the slow and pleasing recuperation, as though returning from a fantasy vacation. Or perhaps a sixth dimension where all was right with the world.

  Ray wondered if this was something akin to heaven on earth. He had never known anyone like Carole Cranston. Never had feelings for a woman like he was starting to feel for he
r. This frightened and exhilarated him at the same time. Was she the person he’d been waiting for all his life? Was he what she really wanted? Or were they both in over their heads?

  “Have you ever thought about having a family, Ray?” Carole broke into his reverie.

  Ray looked down at the top of her head resting on his shoulder. “Thought about it once,” he admitted. “But not too deeply, since I had a wife who was too damned busy thinking about herself to notice. Hasn’t been anyone serious enough in my life since to do much thinking along those lines. How about you?”

  Carole absorbed the question for a moment. “I once thought I would never be ready for a family,” she said. “My husband didn’t seem to object much. And my career seemed to affirm my choice.”

  “And now?” he asked with interest.

  She sighed. “Now I think a family might not be such a bad thing, but only if my man felt the same way and it was practical within the scheme of our lives.”

  “Spoken like a true judge.” Ray chuckled, surprised that he could talk about this so naturally, as if he had no qualms about the issue of family. And maybe he didn’t with the right lady in his life.

  Carole blushed. “Well let’s face it, I don’t have that many years left before the decision to have children will be taken out of my hands. I guess I’m hoping it doesn’t reach that point.”

  Ray knew he had Carole at a decided disadvantage in that regard, and felt a trifle guilty about it. Still, he hardly considered her over the childbearing hill just yet. He put a hand on her exposed right breast, caressing it. “These days, many women are having children well into their forties,” he said comfortingly. “So I don’t think you have too much to worry about, as far as having to make any snap decisions.”

  Carole moaned as Ray’s finger circled her nipple. “Hold on now,” she said, “I’m not going to be one of those forty plus women giving birth for the first time, thank you. The idea of being in my sixties when my children are ready for college doesn’t have a great deal of appeal.”

  “I heard that,” Ray conceded. “Then they might accidentally call you grandma.”