The Avenged

by Charles Prandy

  “Charlie,” I whispered.

  I turned around and saw Charlie lying on the ground. The wall next to him was covered with blood spatters, revealing the horrible truth. I crawled to Charlie’s body and turned him around. I knew the instant I saw his eyes that he was dead.

  “Oh no, Charlie.”

  I cradled Charlie in my arms and lightly sobbed over his body, ignoring the shooting pain that rushed through my head. I reached for my phone and punched 9-1-1, the second time that I’d had to do that in two days.

  “This is Detective Jacob Hayden,” I said in a desolate voice. “I have an officer down and need backup.”

  I hung up the phone after giving the address and sat against the bloodstained wall, cradling Charlie in my arms. My mind’s eye started to play back the scenario of what had happened, when I realized that I never saw the shooter. Suddenly, I thought about the sniper and wondered if this was his work. But then I remembered that Stephen had said, “No, the other one.”

  What the hell’s going on?

  Sirens started to sound as I thought about the past two days. The two links to Faraji Owusu so far had been Judge Frank Peters and Stephen Carter. I knew that the Judge had lied about seeing Faraji, but I didn’t know why. Stephen was drunk out of his mind when we entered his office because of Faraji’s death. But I believe there’s more.

  While holding Charlie’s lifeless body in my arms, my eyelids flickered and my eyebrows curled. I looked to Stephen’s desk and was surprised that I hadn’t noticed the obvious.

  Where’s Stephen Carter?

  Thirty-four

  STEPHEN CARTER, WITH A blackish-blue swollen right eye, quietly sat in Frank’s kitchen at an oval glass table with his head hanging low. Frank leaned against the center island with his arms folded on his chest, not taking his eyes off of Stephen. Nathan Hunt stood across from Frank, nonchalantly cutting into an apple with a sharp knife. Tim Johnson hadn’t moved from the living room.

  “You disappoint me, Stephen,” Frank said. “We’re supposed to be a family. Is this how you treat family?”

  Stephen didn’t respond at first, but then shook his head, no.

  “So what, you were just going to spill the beans, is that it? Run your freaking mouth because of what happened to Faraji?”

  Stephen shook his head again, “No, I would never do that.”

  “What then?”

  “Come on, Frank, you know I’d never betray you. I was just…Faraji was just killed. How else was I supposed to act?”

  “Like a fucking professional, numbnuts. That’s how you’re supposed to act. Not like some juvenile getting drunk because his partner’s dead. Think, asshole.”

  “Frank, we’re talking about Faraji here. He’s been with us since the beginning.”

  “No, dipshit, he’s been with you since the beginning. I’ve been in this game a lot longer and have seen a lot worse shit than this.”

  “He was one of my best friends, Frank.”

  “What’d you just say?”

  “What?” Stephen replied.

  “He was your friend?”

  “Yeah, come on, Frank, we’re all friends.”

  Frank turned around and grabbed a handful of red apples from the fruit bowl in the center of the island. One by one, he beaned Stephen with them, causing Stephen to cover his head and face with his arms.

  “We don’t make friends in this business, asshole. You and I aren’t friends. You know better than that.”

  Stephen lowered his arms and looked up at Frank once the apples stopped flying.

  “You were going to talk to the cops, weren’t you? You’re all fucked up inside because Faraji was your friend, and you were going to rat us out.”

  “No, Frank, no, I’d never do that.”

  Deep inside his core, Frank started to feel heat rise. He lowered his arms and clenched his fists as the heat became more prominent until it burst through his mouth.

  “Then why the fuck did Nathan have to kill a cop just to shut you the fuck up?”

  Both Stephen and Nathan flinched at Frank’s outburst.

  “I wasn’t going to say anything,” Stephen pleaded. “I swear to God, Frank.”

  Frank rushed to Stephen and grabbed his shirt with both hands and lifted him off the chair. His eyes bulged with anger. His face reddened with sheer rage. His lips were only inches away from Stephen’s, causing spit to fly onto Stephen’s face when he spoke. The years of bodybuilding paid off, as Stephen felt like a feather in his hands. He didn’t yell; his threatening tone was surprisingly calm.

  “You’re goddamn right you’re not going to say anything.”

  Frank jolted him one time, making sure their eyes locked with one another’s.

  “I’m only going to say this once. You do this again, you’ll be tied up and forced to watch Nathan cut your wife and kid’s heads off. Understood?”

  Stephen nodded.

  Frank released him and Stephen slumped back into the chair.

  The room became deathly silent for a few seconds while Frank stood over Stephen. Finally, Frank turned around and went to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice.

  To Nathan, he said, “Get this drunk out of here and let him sober up. The cops are going to be looking for him and we need him sharp before they interrogate him.”

  He took a sip of juice from the carton and placed it back in the refrigerator.

  “Oh, and take the other no-nuts pencil dick with you.”

  Thirty-five

  TWO AMBULANCES PARALLEL PARKED in front of Stephen Carter’s law firm. I sat in one holding an ice pack on the back of my head while the other ambulance waited for Charlie’s body. The paramedics believed that I may have suffered a concussion and wanted to take me to the hospital, but I declined. Right now, the only thing on my mind was finding Stephen Carter because he knew who had killed Charlie.

  With all of the commotion surrounding me: police questioning business tenants, squad car lights swirling around and inquisitive bystanders wondering what had happened, I didn’t notice anything. I was in my own world and saw my own images. My mind continued replaying the altercation. I saw Stephen raise his hand and point to someone behind us, and then heard the gun pop and saw Charlie fall to the ground. I’m mad at myself for not turning around quicker when Stephen had said “The one behind you.” If only I could have reacted, maybe Charlie would still be alive.

  I raised my head and was startled to see my lieutenant, Robert Polenski, standing next to the ambulance. A handsome man in his mid-fifties, Lieutenant Polenski was tall and lean with a jagged chin and deep-set blue eyes. The mixture of grey in his short-cropped hair, along with wearing dark-framed glasses, made him look like a distinguished professor instead of a police lieutenant.

  “How you doing, Jacob?”

  “As good as I can be,” I said as I took a step out from the back of the ambulance.

  “Yeah,” Lieutenant Polenski responded, lowering his head. “Look, I know this is difficult, but can you tell me a little bit about what happened?”

  I removed the ice pack from my head and leaned against the ambulance.

  “Just routine follow-up on the Faraji Owusu murder. We found the partner drunk in his office, and next thing I hear is a gun going off and then I’m hit on the head.”

  “Do you have any idea where the partner could be now?”

  “Wish I did. He saw the shooter. He was babbling some things and I think he was getting ready to tell us something before Charlie was killed.” I paused and shook my head. “It all just happened so fast I didn’t have time to react.”

  “How’s your head feeling now?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s okay. I’d rather start looking for Stephen Carter.”

  “We already have uniforms dispatched to his house.”

  I was getting ready to make a comment when the paramedics started bringing out Charlie’s body in a black body bag. The area seemed to hush as the paramedics carried the body to the
ambulance. The police who were questioning people stopped and stared, as I did, and Lieutenant Polenski. Normalcy didn’t seem to pick up again until Charlie’s body was in the ambulance and it started driving away.

  I returned my attention to Lieutenant Polenski. “Look, Lieutenant, there’s something I’ve got to talk to you about.”

  Lieutenant Polenski gave me his undivided attention.

  “It’s about Judge Peters. I don’t know…call it a gut intuition, but I think he’s somehow in the middle of this.”

  Lieutenant Polenski’s eyes widened at the apparent shock of the allegation.

  “Frank Peters, the Superior Court judge?”

  Suddenly I realized how ludicrous that sounded and wished that I never brought it up. My voice lacked confidence when I continued with the allegations.

  “I don’t have any proof now, but I think the judge is connected to all of this. I even think he may know who killed Charlie.”

  Lieutenant Polenski leaned close.

  “Jacob, you’re a good and a bright detective, but you’d better have solid evidence before making allegations like that.”

  I raised my hands. “I know, I know.” I looked around and lowered my voice before continuing. “I met with someone yesterday before the Owusu shooting who told me that the judge is mixed up in money laundering. I didn’t want to believe it, but when I found out that Faraji Owusu had clerked for the judge a few years ago, I questioned Judge Peters about the last time he had seen Faraji, and he lied. Why would he do that?”

  Lieutenant Polenski exhaled and rubbed his chin. “Who’s your guy?”

  “I don’t want to reveal him just yet.”

  “Then there’s nothing I can do. I can’t ask for a search warrant based on speculation. Besides, I personally know Frank and I don’t think he’s mixed up in anything like that.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “Let’s concentrate on finding this partner and then let the chips fall after that.”

  I nodded.

  Lieutenant Polenski patted me on the shoulder and then walked away. I realized then that if I wanted to get to the judge, I’d have to do it on my own. I returned the ice pack to the back of my head and looked around. I saw a man standing on the outer perimeter of the police tape wearing a Washington Nationals red and white baseball cap give me the thumbs up. I nodded at the man and then turned around and climbed back into the ambulance.

  Thirty-six

  FRANK DIDN’T LIKE WHAT WAS happening. The control that he required, that he needed to operate a business like his, was loosening just enough that it was making him nervous. Faraji’s Owusu’s death was a major blow. Totally unexpected. There had been no information on the shooter, either from the police or Nathan Hunt. Apparently, the police had someone contained in an office building, but that person had since escaped and there’d been no word of his whereabouts. Then there was Stephen Carter and his outburst, which, if Nathan Hunt hadn’t been around, could have been disastrous, more than losing Faraji Owusu. Finally, there was the cop killing. Frank was not mad at Nathan for doing what needed to be done to protect the business, but it put him in a bind that he wished he weren’t in.

  To put it simply, Frank was stressed beyond measure. When that happened, he needed a stress reliever.

  Frank sat back in a comfortable lounge chair with his hands folded behind his head and his eyes nearly rolled back into his eye sockets. Every now and again, his chest slightly rose and the muscles in his body tensed as Carmen’s mouth worked magic on his penis. Every sensual stroke caused goose bumps to run along his skin and a tingle that tickled the back of his neck.

  He unfolded his arms and moved his right hand to the back of Carmen’s head.

  “You got it, baby,” he said.

  Carmen looked up with big beautiful brown eyes and long eyelashes. She removed her mouth from his penis, wrapped her hand around it and continued stroking.

  “I’m the stress reliever,” she replied.

  “You sure are, baby.”

  The young Hispanic woman smiled and returned to her duty. Frank moved her long brown hair away from her face so that he could see her lips slide up and down.

  “Just keep it there. Daddy’s got something good for you real soon.”

  Seconds later, his face tightened and his body stiffened as his stress released itself.

  “No one does it better than you, baby,” he said.

  Carmen wiped her mouth and sat up. Her perky left breast hung out of her bra, while the other was firmly secured. She winked at the compliment.

  “Only for you, Your Honor.”

  Frank smiled.

  Carmen stood and placed her free breast into the bra. She turned around and bent down for her clothes. Frank stared at her thong and saw how it perfectly fit her hourglass frame. He began to get excited again.

  “We’ve got another half an hour,” he said. “Why don’t we take this to the bed?”

  Carmen slowly rose and stuck out her butt. “That’ll be an extra hundred.”

  “Always business first.”

  “I learned from the best.”

  Frank stood and walked across the hotel room, where his wallet and keys lay on a nightstand. He pulled out a one hundred dollar bill and tossed it on the bed.

  “I always come prepared.”

  Carmen dropped her clothes back on the floor and reached for her purse and pulled out a condom.

  “So do I.”

  Thirty-seven

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, FRANK was lying on the plush king-sized bed naked, with his arms folded behind his head, relaxing after the intense sexual episode with Carmen. He was certain that some of the other hotel guests had heard their screams of enjoyment, but he didn’t care. It had been over six months that he and Carmen had been in this relationship, and he had to admit that she’d gotten better with each appointment.

  Rough sex was always a pleasure in Frank Peters’ world. It was the only time that he didn’t mind not being in control. He’d rather it be that way. So much of his time was spent trying to control everything else in his life that when a beautiful young woman wanted to control how and when she came, he was delighted to let her do it. Especially when she was as good as Carmen.

  The hour they spent together flew by. Carmen was in the shower cleaning off while Frank’s mind returned to the problems at hand. The cop being killed in the law firm would definitely bring heat upon Stephen, but Frank knew that when Stephen was not drunk, he was sharper than most. Another problem would be the law firm itself. No doubt that the cop killing would cause the police to do an investigation of the firm and would also bring unwanted media attention. Frank’s connections in the police department were deep, but even he knew that he would have to walk a thin line with this one.

  Then he still needed to find out who had killed Faraji Owusu. Could it have been the Africans? Mexicans? Maybe it wasn’t related to the business at all? Frank shook the thoughts away. It had to be connected to the business. The media reported that the gun used to kill Faraji was a sniper rifle, so that meant he had been specifically targeted. Frank didn’t think this was some random killing like what had happened in 2002 with the crazy snipers who went on a killing spree in the D.C. area. So that begged the question: why Faraji, and who killed him? Frank’s contacts reassured him that none of their people had done this. So if it wasn’t the Africans or the Mexicans, then who?

  The shower stopped and Frank heard Carmen pull back the shower curtain. Seconds later, she appeared in the room with a towel wrapped around her body. Her skin was still wet and water dripped from her hair as she crawled onto the bed and straddled him.

  “You know, Your Honor…” she said as she leaned forward and allowed the water from her hair to spill on Frank’s face. She unwrapped the towel and lowered her body so Frank’s nose was between her breasts. “I was just thinking that since you’ve been such a good boy, that maybe you deserve a freebie.”

  Frank felt himself rise again. Su
ddenly, his mind was clouded and he forgot what he had just been thinking.

  “Freebie, huh,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her body. “I could definitely use a freebie.”

  Carmen smiled and then lowered herself and kissed his lips. “Good. Let’s just say that we’ll do favors for each other.”

  “Anything you want is yours.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

  Frank rolled over and was now on top of Carmen. They passionately kissed before he found himself inside of her once again.

  Thirty-eight

  NO ONE HAD BEEN able to locate Stephen Carter for the past two days. His wife and family hadn’t seen him, nor had any of his coworkers. I was worried that the same person who killed Charlie had also killed Stephen and then dumped his body somewhere. All of the alleys and back-alleys across the city had been searched; the Potomac River and Anacostia River too, and Stephen hadn’t been found.

  I popped another Motrin in my mouth and gulped it down with a bottle of water. The blow to my head the other day had resulted in a concussion, which caused sporadic migraines. I wasn't going to go to the hospital, but on the insistence of my wife, I allowed her to check me out. My lieutenant wanted me to take a few days off, but I declined. Catching Charlie's killer was more important to me than my own health.

  As I sat at my desk, I couldn’t help but glance over at Charlie’s desk. Throughout the day, police personnel had stopped by and placed roses on Charlie’s desk, and then either hugged or chitchatted with me about Charlie. Police work was dangerous work, and this wasn’t the first time that I had known an officer who had died in the line of duty. But Charlie was by far the closest. When Charlie had made detective, he was assigned to me and we instantly hit it off. We both loved police work and football, and when we weren’t talking about police work we usually talked about football. I considered Charlie a friend and believed that he had a bright future with the department.