The Avenged

by Charles Prandy

  Eighty

  JUDGE FRANK PETERS, FOR the first time in weeks, smiled at someone other than Carmen. Despite the fact that the detective’s body still hadn’t been found, it was of no concern. It’d wash up at some time or another, or maybe never. Lieutenant Polenski had already confirmed that they had enough phony evidence against the detective that if, by some miracle, he had survived, he’d be locked away for the rest of his life.

  But that’s not why Frank was happy. He had just signed his retirement papers, and in a few short weeks, he’d be living the rest of his days in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic, where the beaches were always white and the water clear as crystal.

  His secretary, Sylvia, stood at the front of his desk with a partial smile across her face.

  “Oh, Judge Peters, I can’t believe you’re retiring. You’re the only judge that I’ve worked for.”

  “I know, Sylvia. You’ve been a very good coworker for the last twelve years. But there comes a time when you have to move on. And now it’s my time.”

  Frank noticed that Sylvia was getting ready to cry and he opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her.

  “Come on now,” he said, “don’t cry. It’s not like I’m dying or anything. I’m just moving on.”

  “I know,” Sylvia said, wiping her eyes with the handkerchief. “Things just won’t be the same here without you.”

  Frank stood up and walked to the front of his desk and embraced Sylvia. She’d been the true bright spot in this office and he was very appreciative of her work. As he hugged her, he thought about what she really would think of him had she’d known who he really was.

  He pulled back from his embrace and wiped her tears with his thumbs.

  “I’ve got something for you,” he said. He walked back to his desk and pulled open the same drawer and picked up an envelope and handed it to her.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Promise me you won’t open it until after I leave. It’s just a little token of appreciation from me to you.”

  Sylvia took the envelope and more tears fell from her eyes.

  “Oh, Judge Peters, you didn’t have to.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’ve earned it.”

  Sylvia looked at the envelope and then turned and left.

  Frank admitted to himself that he hated saying goodbye, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop thinking about his new life on the tropical island with Carmen next to him every day. And he felt good knowing that Sylvia wasn’t the type of person to go and blow the twenty-thousand-dollar check that he had just handed her.

  Eighty-one

  I WASN’T SURE IF I could do it. The closer we got to the funeral home, the more I felt like passing out. Sitting in the passenger seat of a navy blue Chevrolet Impala that Angela had rented with one of her aliases, my nerves grew more rigid with each passing second. Never in a million years did I think that I would have to attend my wife’s funeral at such a young age, in disguise, and with a suspect in a murder that I was investigating.

  Theresa and I had planned on moving to the Caribbean when it was our time to retire. We’d talked about having kids and traveling the world. We wanted to see the pyramids in Egypt and travel to the Holy Land to walk in Christ’s footsteps. There was so much that we wanted to do as a couple that now I can’t imagine living my life alone without her.

  The phrase is always used that life is short, but as I looked ahead and realized that I could reasonably live another forty or fifty years, life won’t seem short, it’d seem like an eternity. An eternity that I would spend alone, waiting on the time that I’d be able to see Theresa again.

  When we arrived at the colonial-style two-story house that was turned into a funeral home in Germantown, Maryland, I saw that the parking lot was half-full. My palms were sweaty and I was having a harder time calming my nerves. My heart raced like I had been shot with an adrenaline needle.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” I finally spoke. I turned to Angela and my hands were shaking.

  “No one will recognize you.”

  “I should have listened to you. This might be too much to handle.”

  “Do you want to turn around? It’s not too late.”

  I looked at the small crowd gathered in front of the funeral home, most everyone I recognized. I took a few deep breaths and cleared my mind. I had to see my Theresa one last time.

  “No, I can make it.”

  Angela patted the top of my hand after she pushed the gear shift in park.

  “I’ll be with you. You’ll look less conspicuous if I’m there. If anyone asks, I’m your nurse from a nursing home and Theresa was once your doctor. You’ve come to pay your respects.”

  I nodded, and then brought down the visor and looked at myself in the mirror. If I wasn’t myself, I wouldn’t have recognized me. Angela was a master at disguise, I had to agree. The skin on my face no longer looked smooth and youthful, rather, now it appeared wrinkled and old. A light grey beard neatly blended into the old-looking skin, making me appear closer to my mid-seventies than thirties. My nose was wider than before and my eyelids sagged as if the years of keeping my eyes open had finally taken their toll. My hair and eyebrows matched the color of the beard, and I wore a black derby hat and dark-rimmed glasses with tinted lenses to help conceal my identity.

  Angela had also used a synthetic rubber over my hands and applied skin spots to make my hands appear years older than what they were. All of this she had learned from her brother, who had mastered the art of disguise while in the military.

  I finally opened the door and slowly got out of the car. I held a cane in my right hand, slouched my upper body slightly forward and proceeded to slowly walk to the front door, using the cane for support with each step. Angela walked next to me, dressed in black slacks and a matching blazer. Her short hair was styled, and with a little makeup, she didn’t look anything like the man she had portrayed to be months earlier. She held me by my right elbow as we entered the funeral home.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  I nodded, and thought I was, until I turned to the left and saw the open casket at the front of the room.

  “Oh God.”

  Angela steadied herself next to me.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

  Eighty-two

  LYING IN THE CASKET motionless, wearing a black dress that I recognized as her favorite, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, Theresa looked as though she was simply taking a nap. I wanted so badly to jump in the casket and lie with her. I didn’t care about the outside world anymore. I could die right now and I’d be fine with that.

  My right hand trembled as I gently glided my fingers over Theresa’s stiff hands. How can she be dead? There was a line of people behind me, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to leave her side.

  “I’m sorry,” I mouthed under my breath.

  I fought as hard as I could not to cry, but the tears found their way out and streamed down my face.

  Then I felt a hand pat my left shoulder. I turned and was shocked to see Theresa’s father comforting me. Pops looked like he’d aged ten years since the last time I had seen him. At that time, Pops’ eyes were vibrant and alive, in contrast to the tired and sad way they looked at me now. He appeared to be a shell of the man he once was, the man who I had grown to love like my own father.

  I wanted to give him a hug and tell him how much I loved him, but I couldn’t. I wanted to tell him that what the media said about me was a lie and that I would never harm Theresa. But I couldn’t because my life had been taken from me, just like Theresa’s was taken from her. The only difference was that I was still breathing and she wasn’t.

  “Let me help you, old timer,” Pops said in a soft and comforting voice.

  “She was a great woman,” I tried disguising my voice to match my appearance.

  “Yes, she was. Where are you sitting?”

  I pointed to the back of the room where Angela was s
itting. Pops gently led me to my seat and smiled at Angela.

  “This is hard for all of us,” Pops said. “I appreciate you coming today.”

  Angela smiled back but I kept my head down. Pops turned and walked back to his daughter’s side and comforted others as they said their last goodbyes.

  “Do you know him?” Angela asked.

  “Yes, he’s my father-in-law.”

  “Oh.”

  The room rumbled with chatter for a few more minutes before Pops asked everyone to find their seats.

  “On behalf of my family, I want to first thank everyone for coming. Theresa was a special person, and she was taken from us in the prime of her life. She will be greatly missed…”

  Pops’ voice began to fade into the background of my mind, as the only thing I was hearing was Theresa’s laughter. I closed my eyes and remembered how her smile would light up the room. I remembered the last night we were together, and how passionately we had made love. She was supposed to go to work, but she stayed home to take care of me and it was one of the best nights we’d had together.

  The more I thought about it, the deeper my sorrow grew. She was supposed to be at work. If it wasn’t for me, she’d still be alive. I didn’t want to believe it, but in some twisted way, maybe I did kill her. She wasn’t supposed to be home.

  I almost screamed, but my thought was cut off when I heard Angela whisper, “What the hell is he doing here?”

  Eighty-three

  I NEARLY LUNGED FROM my seat to tackle my now former lieutenant and strangle the life out of him, but I found some semblance of composure and was able to remain in my seat. Lieutenant Polenski and his blond, voluptuous wife entered the room as the service was just starting and sat on the opposite side of the aisle, across the room.

  My fumes felt like they were going to melt the prosthetic nose and carry away the makeup that Angela had spent so long perfecting. How dare he come here like this?

  My father-in-law’s voice no longer carried to my ears. I became deaf to the room and all of my focus was on the man who had helped set me up. A man who I had one time thought was a friend, a confidant, a mentor, but those days were long gone.

  “Take it easy,” Angela whispered.

  I finally blinked my eyes and realized that the pain in my heart must be showing through my face for Angela to say something. I took a deep breath and turned my head back to Pops, who was trying to speak while holding back tears.

  “The hardest thing about her death,” Pops said, “was that there’s no closure. As people, we need closure.” He lowered his head and brought his hand to his lips. He caught his composure before he spoke again and addressed the audience. “I just need to know why. But the one man who can answer that is dead himself. So I’ll carry this with me to the grave, never knowing why.”

  The anger that I had just experienced quickly vanished when I heard my father-in-law’s plea. My heart sank to a depth that I hadn’t known existed. A father wanting to know why his daughter was killed in cold blood would melt the soul of any human being.

  I couldn’t hold them back any longer. Tears streamed down my face like a river flowing, and all I could do was watch Pops stand in front of the crowd in anguish.

  Finally, after a minute of silence, Pops spoke again. “We aren’t the traditional type. Never have been. So I’m now going to open the floor to anyone who wants to come up and say a few words about Theresa.”

  One by one, various people from the crowd made their way to the front of the room and spoke highly of their friend and coworker. About thirty minutes and a handful of people later, Lieutenant Polenski stood and walked to the front of the room. He gave Pops a hug and then addressed the room.

  “My name is Robert Polenski and I’m a police officer with the D.C. police department. I was Jacob’s lieutenant before he was killed.”

  A few stirs went throughout the room.

  “I knew Theresa and Jacob for a long time,” he continued, “and I’m still shocked at how this all ended.”

  I clenched my fist and narrowed my eyes at my former lieutenant.

  “When I first found out what Jacob had gotten into, I contacted Theresa , but never in a million years would I have thought that he would have done what he did.”

  “Lies,” I whispered through my teeth.

  “Keep your cool,” Angela whispered.

  “For a while, I blamed myself,” Polenski continued. “I thought that if I hadn’t said anything and had brought Jacob in myself, Theresa would still be here.”

  I stirred in my seat. I exhaled out of my nostrils like a bull ready to charge. “Lies,” I whispered again.

  “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I just want everyone to know that Metro police are sorry for the pain that one man has caused, and if I could do it all over again, I would.”

  My inner self exploded with rage and before I could stop it, I jumped to my feet and yelled at the top of my lungs, “LIAR!”

  Eighty-four

  EVERYONE IN THE ROOM quickly turned around toward me. Their faces appeared startled and confused at the old man who screamed at the top of his lungs. I began to slowly make my way down the aisle while pointing at Lieutenant Polenski.

  “How can you stand up there at say those things, knowing it’s not the truth?”

  “Excuse me,” Polenski quipped , looking a little nervous.

  “You dare come here at a time like this and continue to defame a good man’s name in front of his wife’s family?”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Polenski continued, “I don’t know who you are, but I assure you I’m not lying.”

  “Yes you are!” I said as I stomped my foot so that my point was well taken. I didn’t move like the old man who first came into the funeral home. “You and Nathan Hunt set up the whole thing so that I’d be blamed for her murder. YOU killed her in cold blood, you bastard.”

  Pops quickly stood and walked close to me. He stared at me wide-eyed and shocked as if he’d just seen the resurrected Christ.

  “My God…Jacob?”

  Murmurs floated across the room.

  I panned the room and saw some people holding up smartphones, obviously recording the whole thing. I turned back to Polenski and saw that the man’s jaw had almost dropped.

  At first, my eyes were fixated on Lieutenant Polenski, but then I heard Pops’ sorrowful voice say my name and it melted my heart once again. My anger quickly diminished.

  “I didn’t do what they said I did,” I softly responded. “I loved Theresa too much to hurt her. You’ve got to believe me.”

  Pops appeared dumbfounded, as if he wanted to hug me and at the same time strangle me. He moved his mouth but nothing came out, almost like his voice had been taken from him.

  Suddenly Angela’s voice boomed like she was speaking through a microphone. “Jacob, watch out!”

  Lieutenant Polenski lunged toward me and caught me with a fist to the chin. My head rocked and I fell to the ground.

  “Someone call the police!” Polenski yelled. “We have a fugitive here.”

  I shook my head and blinked my eyes, but the room felt like it was spinning. Don’t pass out, I thought.

  Lieutenant Polenski then looked to his wife. “Honey, quickly go to the car and grab my handcuffs.”

  By now, everyone who was in their seats was standing up, trying to get a look at the commotion.

  Lieutenant Polenski went to grab me and place my hands behind my back when Angela burst up the aisle and led with a spinning back side kick that caught Polenski square in the chest. The blow was powerful enough to knock him onto his back. He quickly stood, but Angela caught him with a flurry of kicks that laid him out cold.

  She rushed to my side. “Get up, Jacob. We need to go!”

  I got to my feet, a little shaky, and looked at Pops.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll make this right,” I said before I ran out of the funeral home.

  Eighty-five

  POLICE SIRENS ECHOED IN the distance as Angela
and I rushed to the car. Angela quickly hopped in the driver’s seat and fired up the engine. I was getting ready to get in when I looked across the street and saw a guy on a black and red Ducati pull into the McDonald’s parking lot.

  I ducked my head in the car before closing the door.

  “Go ahead. I’ve got another plan. I’ll lure them away while you get out of here.”

  “What? No! Get in the car. I can handle them.”

  “Trust me! I know what I’m doing. We’ll meet back at your place.”

  I closed the door and rushed across the street. I heard the tires on Angela’s car squeal as it tore up the road.

  “Hey, hey!” I yelled at the man getting off the Ducati. “I need your bike. Police business.”

  The man pulled off his helmet and looked me up and down.

  “Come on, old man, you can’t handle this. This is a Superbike 1198—”

  I quickly decked the guy in the chin and knocked him out cold.

  “Yeah, yeah, don’t have time to chitchat.”

  I grabbed the man’s helmet, slipped it on and then turned the key in the ignition and revved the throttle. I popped the clutch in first gear. The rear tire burned rubber as it peeled out of the parking lot and onto Ridge Road just as the first police car arrived.

  I kicked up the next clutch and the front wheel popped up in the air as I flew by the squad car.

  I kicked up the gear again and the bike drove with a power that I hadn’t felt in years. When I first joined the force, I wanted to do motorcycle patrol, as I’d been riding motorcycles for about as long as I’d been driving cars, but decided against it when I saw that I had a chance to make detective.

  The bike hugged the road like a hand fit a glove. I lowered my body towards the bike and felt the wind pass right over me. Mile after mile, I weaved in and out of cars, driving fast enough that the cop couldn’t touch me, but also careful not to do anything stupid, like trying to outrun a cop on a Ducati.