Who Needs Justice?

by Rex Bolt

  Christian said, "You guys bang each other already?"

  "No," Floyd said. "We're hitting it off, but it's not like that."

  "They did," Monica said.

  "Long as everyone's having fun," Christian said. "I'm going to look around Anthem this afternoon. You guys feel safe being left with my brother?"

  "I thought I'd take them over to Scottsdale, find a little action," Floyd said.

  "Actually, why don't I go with Chris," Monica said.

  +++

  He'd been carrying the address for Kyle Lamb around in his wallet since he pulled it off the computer at the Funston library, the same day he was questioned by Detective Cousins, which was two days after the incident with Chip Reggio.

  Traffic was light. They passed various planned communities on both sides of the freeway, extensions of north Phoenix. "Think you could ever live in one of these?" Christian asked Monica.

  "I'm not sure, what about you?"

  "Has an artificial feel, but there'd be redeeming aspects . . . All your needs within five minutes, everything bright-spanking clean, no crime to worry about. A giant year-round pool in your complex."

  "Probably I could," she said. "Not now, it'd be a tad slow, but when I settle down to have kids."

  "Hold on, you're leaning that direction?"

  "Oh, absolutely. I've wanted to be a mother since I can't remember . . . You're laughing."

  "I'm not laughing at you, you could have fooled me is all. I'm happy that's your goal."

  "Your brother is red hot, incidentally," she said.

  "You think so?"

  "Totally. Look at Allison getting her hands on him right away. I love her, but what a single-minded little bitch."

  "The way things have been playing out, pretty good odds you'll get your chance."

  "You'd be fun too though," she said.

  "Oh," he said.

  +++

  There were two similar developments that made up Anthem it turned out, one a little fancier with a golf course and requiring you to deal with a guard booth. Luckily Kyle lived in the more modest section you could drive right into, and when they got to the address, there he apparently was, a thin guy with a backwards baseball cap and a goatee shooting baskets with his kids in the driveway.

  Christian said, "Something could be off, but there's a chance that's the person."

  "What person again now?" Monica said.

  The guy glanced toward the car and they kept going and turned the corner. Christian said, "Okay. Don't tell Floyd or anyone else about this . . . A woman I know in San Francisco, I'm trying to help her get on with her life. She says her ex-husband is essentially mind-fucking her."

  "The man playing basketball back there, he doesn't look the type, frankly."

  "I agree, but this stuff can surprise you . . . Hey, would you want to talk to him?"

  "Me?"

  "Yeah . . . How ‘bout . . .tell him you're looking around, considering moving into the area. Pick his brain, see how he is."

  "Well I guess I could. If you really need me to play detective."

  "Just walk back there right now before he goes anywhere. Make sure you introduce yourself so he gives you his name too. My guy is Kyle."

  It took her twenty minutes. "That was kind of a trip," she said.

  "What'd you get?"

  "I got that those are his step kids, he's lived here eight years, the quality of life is great except for July and August, but it's a bear if you have to commute . . . And his name is Kyle."

  "Dang. You are good."

  "And also, last thing . . . "

  "Yep?"

  "I'm having a drink with him. At six."

  "Oh my God."

  "He's actually really nice."

  "I'm not believing this . . . What about his step-family obligations?"

  "He didn't mention that. What else should I ask him?"

  "Wow . . . Well the main thing we're trying to determine, is he purposely sticking it to my friend, or is she feeding me a line of baloney."

  "Okay don't worry, I should be able to get you that. It might take a couple of drinks."

  "Try to make it 7-Up or something, on your end."

  "Chris, I can take care of myself."

  The place was called Jackson's Hole And Bistro. It was in a shopping center near Safeway, a short drive from Kyle's house. Christian said, "What I'm wondering, what kind of guy cheats on his wife right in his own backyard? At least put some distance on the situation."

  "He's not cheating on his wife."

  "You know what I mean. He's either a dumb shit, or just as likely, he wants to show off his new prize."

  They were on the far side of the parking lot, and Monica got out. "I'll be right here," Christian said.

  He watched her walk over there and disappear inside. Then he called Ray again. "Seely, you son of a bitch," Ray said. "I actually kind of miss your ass."

  "Ray, I have to run something by you. You drinking anything yet?"

  "No, but about to be. I just walked in. Had to sit in the chair dealing with the bullshit all afternoon."

  "Okay hold off on that for a minute then. Birgitte might be having a problem with her husband."

  "Man, you already told me that. In fact I seem to recall it was you initiated it."

  "No, not that. Now I'm worried he might not be treating her right. I talked to her at noontime, nothing she said, I just had a bad feeling."

  Ray didn't say anything.

  "Ray?"

  "Where you at right now?"

  "I'm in Arizona, that's the whole problem."

  Ray said, "I got this then."

  Christian said, "What do you mean, you got this?", but Ray was off the phone.

  +++

  It occurred to Christian he'd been spending too much time sitting in parking lots. Finally, nearly 8:30, he spotted Monica in front of Jackson's Hole mingling with the doofus. Christian waited for the obligatory hug and peck on the cheek so he could thankfully get the hell out of there, but no, she follows Kyle to his car, gets in, and they drive away.

  He followed them as they jumped on the freeway toward Phoenix and got off fifteen minutes later, turned into a Holiday Inn Express and went inside. Christian sat there with the engine running, trying to digest this. He sent Monica a text, and went home to Floyd's.

  "You're back," his brother said.

  "Sort of," Allison said. She was sitting on Floyd's lap, in the kitchen, beverages in front of them.

  "She's having dinner with someone," Christian said. "I have to go pick her up later."

  "Yeah, right," Allison said, playing with Floyd's hair. "Now you're getting to know Monica, Chris. She's not particularly complicated."

  "Well, hey, how's everything going otherwise?" Floyd said.

  "You know, could be worse. Took a look around Anthem. Nice to see all that red rock. People there seemed reasonably cheerful."

  "That, or they're a bunch of zombies," Floyd said. "A little bit too controlled up there for my taste."

  "Could be. Plus I got one or two issues that are dogging me."

  Floyd said, "I already told you, you go away, check that shit at the door."

  "That used to be easier," Christian said. "You went somewhere, you wanted to address something at home, you needed to find a pay phone and come up with about ten dollars in change, so you said forget it and had a good time . . . Now you're held hostage by modern technology."

  "So turn it off and lock it in the trunk," Floyd said.

  "Don't quite have enough discipline to. Speaking of which, I have to go outside and make a few calls. After that I want to ask you something."

  He called Ray, got no answer, was hesitant to try Birgitte but he did and she didn't pick up either, so he went back inside. There was no one in the kitchen and there was music on now in Floyd's bedroom, some new guy trying to sound like Marvin Gaye.

  Christian went over to the counter and helped himself to what was left in the shaker, a sweet, citrusy vodka mix that wa
sn't bad, and when he turned around he had an angle through the living room into the bedroom, where the door was slightly open and Allison was riding Floyd.

  He watched for a few minutes, sipping his drink. Allison mostly had her hands clasped behind her head, her back slightly arched. She would occasionally bring them down and say something to Floyd.

  Christian went back outside and checked his messages, nothing from Monica, and he phoned Joyce but she wasn't there either, so he went over to the high school and walked around the track for an hour. When he came back, Floyd and Allison were showered and sitting on the couch watching a comedy special on HBO.

  "Took you a long time," Floyd said. "What was that you wanted to ask me?"

  "Whether you know of any strip clubs in the greater Phoenix area," Christian said. "I thought I'd go to one."

  "Hey, can I go too?" Allison said.

  Floyd said, "There's a couple that come to mind. Your best bet consistency-wise is Judy's Rendezvous. It's in Tempe, not too far from ASU."

  "Babe, I'm serious, can you take me?" Allison said. "I've never been to one of those."

  "Jesus, 'babe' already," Christian said.

  "You wouldn't feel awkward?" Floyd said.

  "I'm with you and Chris, why would I?"

  28 – Paperback

  Christian took his own car in case he had to go get Monica. It was a relatively small place, three women dancing at a time on a runway in the middle of a circular bar. Whatever song was playing, even something light out of the '70s, it had a heavy rhythm section engineered into it. There were strobe lights that kept changing the setting to different colors, but mostly the women looked slightly purple up there.

  Floyd was right, the majority of the dancers were attractive and the bodies were tight and supple. "One thing I'll give this place," Christian said, "no poles. This you can get into easier."

  "I must say, they're good dancers," Allison said. "More professional than I expected."

  Floyd said, "With this place, a lot of the girls are supposedly from Brazil. Doesn't seem logical, but I heard that."

  "Actually, I can see it," Allison said.

  "Wait a second," Christian said, "what can you see? Who's Brazilian up there now?"

  "The middle girl for one," she said, "I mean look how exquisitely she moves."

  Christian said, "Take away the lighting, she's white as a sheet. My guess is she hails from Rapid City, South Dakota."

  His phone rang, Monica. He excused himself. "Yeah," he said.

  "Chris, please . . . Can you at least say something?"

  "What time is it?"

  "It's ten to one."

  "Okay, just be in the lobby."

  He told Floyd and Allison to continue having fun and took his time, stopping for a donut and coffee on the way. Monica was reading a paperback when he got there.

  "Well?" he said.

  "I think I have some stuff for you, but can it wait until tomorrow Chris?"

  "It can, absolutely. In fact never is fine too."

  "You know what? It wasn't quite what you thought."

  They got home to a dark house, Floyd and Allison were still out, and Christian went straight to bed and barely moved until noon.

  +++

  He went in the kitchen, where someone had been frying bacon. "One of you looks relatively fresh," he said, "while the two late arrivals look like shit."

  Monica said, "You didn't tell me they were watching strippers. We could have met them."

  "You didn't ask," Christian said.

  Allison said, "It was pretty amazing. When I feel better I'm going to try to write a song about the experience."

  Floyd said, "The pace that you're all setting, it's a little heavy for me."

  "Is there a Starbucks nearby?" Monica said. "I have to go over a few things with Chris."

  Floyd gave them directions and headed back to bed. Christian said, "Might as well walk it then. Give you time to gather your thoughts."

  The Starbucks was a mile or so down Seneca Avenue, everything pretty quiet on a Sunday afternoon. Half way there, Monica took his arm.

  "Now that," Christian said, "is an error."

  "It makes me feel good. You can't lighten up and leave it at that?"

  "Fuck, I forgot all about Ray," he said.

  Ray answered on the second ring. He said, "I get over there, nothing jumping out ringing no alarm, so Birgitte and I went out to dinner."

  "Okay fine, but what about the husband?"

  "No sign of him. According to her, he on a business trip. "

  "But she seemed . . . the same? As when we went to Booker's?"

  "Far as I could go with it, she did . . . Fact that's where we went back to. They was featuring the music again. I couldn't get out there this time though."

  "She curious at all why you happened to stop by her house?"

  "Somewhat. I told her your mind probably running away with you, being out in the sticks somewhere . . . I also mentioned should the motherfucker put his hands on her, I'll kill him."

  "Ray, now something like that, that would be me, you have to take my word for it . . . Anyhow, I owe you."

  "Pleasure's mine. When you be back?"

  "Hopefully soon. This trip has gone 180 degrees different than I expected."

  When he put the phone away Monica said, "Are you a secret agent or something? I'm not kidding, you have a secondary life."

  He looked at her and said, "Okay, hundred percent confidential? What it really is? . . . I'm one of those people you read about, who the medical experts give a year to live. I'm trying to cram in what I can in the time I have left."

  Monica stopped walking and let go of his arm, her mouth half open, looking up at him.

  "Jiminy Christmas," he said. "I'm joking."

  She hit him hard on the shoulder. "Don't play around like that, I'm serious. You almost gave me a heart attack."

  "That's my fault then. But you better start smiling again, get rid of that crinkled up face."

  "Why should I, you piss me off."

  Christian got behind her and started tickling her under the armpits. She tried to wriggle out of it but he stayed on her and pretty soon she was laughing, yelling at him to stop.

  "There you go, back to your cheerful self,” he said.

  "For a few minutes. 'Til you start cross-examining me about Kyle."

  He waited until they had their tall skinny white chocolate mochas or whatever it was she'd ordered. “Just start me off with the bottom line," he said.

  "Well, he does have a wife in California. They're still technically married."

  "Did he strike you as someone who could get violent?"

  "I don't know. I wouldn’t have thought so, but then he got really angry when he couldn't get it up."

  "He couldn't?"

  "No. He tried for an hour and left. He didn't even say goodbye."

  "Wait a second, you got there at nine. What took you so long then?"

  "They had one of those fancy bathtubs, with the jacuzzi jets? I wanted to try it. Then I turned on the TV and fell asleep."

  "What else did he say about the California wife?

  "Only that they see each other every so often. They spend most of the time making love. Supposedly."

  "Anything else?"

  "He said he wants a divorce so he can marry his girlfriend but your friend isn’t being cooperative. That he tells her she needs to get on with her life.”

  “You tell him your name was Monica?”

  “Of course, I’m not a sneaky person.”

  Christian took a moment. “I guess that covers it then,” he said. “What else is going on with you?”

  “Chris, please do me a favor? Can we drop the whole thing now?”

  “We can,” he said. “It’s nice to finally have some closure.”

  +++

  The simplest thing would be to kill Kyle, because he was a piece of scum that no one would miss. What the real dope was between Bethany and the guy was irrelevant. The pro
blem was Monica would get caught up in it sooner or later, which of course meant him.

  Allison was sleeping when they got home and Floyd was in the kitchen reading a Sports Illustrated. Christian said, “Thought I'd take a little personal time this afternoon." Floyd didn't look up and Monica said that sounds good and plopped down in the living room.

  As Christian started to drive away he noticed some red rocks in Floyd's front yard, framing a scraggly piece of cactus. Hmm. He found one that felt good and headed back up the interstate to Anthem.

  He passed the house and parked around the corner again and walked back and rang the prick's bell.

  Kyle answered, chewing, a beer in his hand. "Whoops," Christian said, "I might have the wrong address. I'm looking for Monica?"

  Kyle flinched. Christian could see a pretty, strawberry-blonde woman, pregnant, down the hall at the kitchen sink. "I guess not, then," he said. "Sorry to bother you."

  There was nothing to do but walk around the neighborhood and pass by the house every twenty minutes, hoping Kyle's girlfriend went somewhere. On the fourth pass, one car was gone and Kyle's was still there. Christian looked around, was satisfied there were no neighbors in the way, and rang the bell.

  This time when the door opened Christian hit Kyle in the mouth with the rock. Kyle went to his knees and held his face, and there was blood all over and Christian was pretty sure he'd eliminated several of the guy's teeth. There was kids' laughter coming from an upstairs room, not a huge concern.

  Kyle was lying on the floor now, sobbing like a child. Christian said, "What you take from this, Kyle? You bothering Monica again, that would be an error."

  Kyle nodded just barely.

  "Oh, and on a related topic," Christian said. "Bethany. The thing there is, she needs her privacy. I find out you're ever in her presence—rest of your life—I'll have to kill you. Then I'll fuck your girlfriend. The right way."

  Kyle covered his head with his arms looking like he expected to get hit again. Christian said, "We good then Kyle?"

  Kyle moved slightly indicating they were.

  Christian walked back to the car, moving fast but not rushing it to where he was conspicuous. The asshole could call the police of course, which would be a mess, but looking at the big picture it didn't seem likely.