[Lady Justice 04] - Lady Justice And The Avenging Angels

by Robert Thornhill

  It was at moments like this that I truly appreciated my partner’s bulk. My less-than-imposing stature doesn’t command much respect.

  Both men looked at the ground and shook their heads. Ox had made his point. We both let go, and the two belligerents melted into the crowd.

  Ox turned and addressed the people lining the streets. “That goes for the rest of you too. My partner and I are going to be here all day, and if we so much as hear a cross word exchanged, we’ll haul your butts to jail. Any questions?”

  There weren’t any.

  As we crossed the street, Ox leaned over and whispered, “That was fun.”

  Since Ox had asserted his authority, the crowd, while vocal and sometimes boisterous, towed the line, and there were no further incidents.

  The midday sun was beating down and reflecting off the hot asphalt.

  The downside of being a man of Ox’s stature is that there is a lot more of you to get hot. I was uncomfortable in my tight-fitting flak jacket, and I could see the sweat pouring off my bulky partner.

  “Man, I’m cooking in this thing. I think I’ll slip it off and cool down for a few minutes.”

  “Are you sure? The captain said it was required today.”

  Ox looked around. “Everything seems to be under control. I’ll just slip it off until the parade comes by.”

  I was about to argue with him when someone shouted, “Here they come!”

  We looked north on Main Street, and sure enough, the parade was two blocks away.

  “Well, crap!” Ox muttered. “I guess I’ll have to leave the damn thing on.” He looked around. “I’m dying of thirst. I gotta find something to drink.”

  We had seen little vendor carts lining the streets on our way from the motor pool, but the only one in sight was a Jim’s Hot Tamale cart halfway up the block.

  “That’ll do. They have great lemonade,” Ox said and headed toward the cart.

  Jim’s Hot Tamales had been a Kansas City tradition for seventy-five years. There would be very few Kansas Citians who hadn’t seen one of the quaint little carts on a street corner.

  When we arrived at the cart, the parade was only a block away. Ox looked for the vendor, but he was nowhere to be seen. He turned to the nearest onlooker. “Have you seen the tamale guy?”

  “Come to think of it, he left about fifteen minutes ago and hasn’t returned.”

  “Damn! I need a drink.” Ox looked at the soft drink canisters on the side of the cart and was about to help himself just as the parade reached our location.

  Ox was looking for a cup when a voice called out, “Hey, Walt! Ox! How are you guys?”

  The salutation had come from two guys marching past us in the parade. I recognized Mike and Larry immediately as they pulled out of the parade and approached the tamale cart.

  I had met these guys a year ago at The Cozy Corner, a gay bar on Troost Avenue. Vince and I had gone there undercover as a gay couple as part of a huge investigation involving corruption at city hall and within the police department itself. Vince and I were like two fish out of water, and Mike and Larry took us under their wings. Mike was a corporate attorney, and Larry was a stockbroker.

  After a round of handshaking and howdy-dos, Larry turned and saw that the parade was moving quickly down the street.

  “Walt, can you and Ox walk with us for a few minutes? We have some exciting news, but we don’t want to lose our spot in the parade.”

  I looked at Ox, who was still searching the crowd, hoping the tamale guy would show up to sell him a drink. He gave me a nod, and we joined Larry and Mike along the parade route.

  “So what’s the big news?” I asked, falling in step with my friends.

  “Mike and I have decided to take the plunge. We’re going to be married. Gay marriage is legal in Iowa, and we have a trip planned to Des Moines in the fall.”

  I was just reaching out my hand to congratulate them both when all hell broke loose. There was a deafening explosion that shook the ground, followed by a shockwave that blew me off my feet. The last thing I remember was my head hitting the gritty asphalt of Main Street and everything going black.

  I was aroused to consciousness by a young paramedic waving smelling salts under my nose. When my eyes finally focused, the paramedic was holding two fingers in front of my face. “How many fingers, officer?”

  “Uh, two.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Walt Williams.”

  He helped me to a sitting position.

  “Ox! Where’s my partner? Is he okay?”

  The paramedic motioned with his head. I was shocked to see two paramedics hovering over my partner and examining a large shard of metal protruding from his back.

  “Oh my God! Ox!”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks. The Kevlar vest saved him. It looks like maybe the shrapnel penetrated about an inch into the meaty part of his back. He’ll have a hell of a bruise and a few stitches, but he’ll be okay. Good thing he had lots of padding back there.”

  I turned my attention to the devastation around me. It looked like a newsreel clip from Bosnia or Baghdad. There was a ten-foot crater at the curb where the tamale cart had been. Police had cordoned off the blast area, holding back the thousands of people who had come to see the parade.

  Near the blast site, frantic parents were searching for their children, husbands and wives were holding loved ones close as they lay bleeding in their arms, and above it all were the anguished cries of those whose worst fears were confirmed.

  As I surveyed the scene around me, a familiar scripture came to mind: “There will be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.”

  The injured were being treated for their wounds, the dead were being zipped into body bags, and grief-stricken friends and family watched in horror as men in hazmat suits collected body parts from the bloody street. I saw the arm of a small child and what was left of a Raggedy Ann doll lying in the gutter a mere ten feet from where I was sitting. A wave of nausea came over me, and I wretched.

  The paramedic lifted me to my feet. “We need to get you and you partner out of here. They’ve set up a trauma center at Truman Medical on hospital hill.”

  “I’m okay. I want to help.”

  “Sorry, pal. Your helmet saved your head from being split open like a ripe melon, but there is still the possibility of a concussion. You gotta be checked out.”

  In the ambulance on the way to the hospital, the scene of heartbreak and destruction I had just witnessed wouldn’t leave my mind. This was my first exposure to such trauma.

  I had never been in the armed forces. I was just a baby when WWII concluded. I was too young for Korea and too old for Vietnam.

  I thought of the tens of thousands of our young men and women who had suffered through carnage and destruction like I had just witnessed, and I wept.

  I have never understood to what dark place men go that causes them to bring such sorrow to their fellow man.

  Chapter 3

  Darkness had already overtaken the old oak forest.

  The only light came from the windows of the log barn. The rays from the kerosene lanterns cast long shadows on the bales of straw as one by one men gathered and found places to sit.

  A tall man emerged from the darkness beyond the door, and the soft murmur that had filled the room died quickly. All eyes were on John Blackwell.

  Blackwell stood straight, his hand clutching an old Bible.

  He lifted the Bible high above his head. “My friends and fellow believers, today was a day of redemption. As in the days of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the Lord has anointed his chosen on earth and armed them with fire and brimstone to smite the heathen and idolaters. The holy war has begun, and you and I, my friends, are the instruments of his great power.

  “The gay
s paraded their abomination before the world. But we were there to do the Lord’s work, and tonight their blood dries in the gutters of Babylon.”

  The men rose from their seats, shaking their fists in the air and chanting, “Angels of the Lord; angels of the Lord!”

  Blackwell motioned for them to sit, and all did but one.

  “Brother John.”

  “Yes, Will.”

  “I was at the gas station when the news report came on the TV. It was awful. The reporter said it wasn’t just gays that died but women and kids too. Was that suppose’ to happen?”

  Blackwell stared at the man for a moment then opened his Bible and read, “Then the Lord rained upon Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of heaven; and he overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground.”

  He folded the Bible. “All died, Will—men, women, and children. So it is in a holy war.”

  “But John, they didn’ do nothin’.”

  A smile curled on Blackwell’s lips, but there was no mirth in his voice when he spoke. “Perhaps you don’t have what it takes to serve the Lord in these last days, Will. Either you wear the mantle of righteousness proudly or are cast out from among us. What do you choose?”

  “No! No! I’m with ya. I’m ready to fight for the Lord.”

  “I’m happy to hear that. As a sign of your faith, your son, Will Jr., will be the next to take up the sword. Has he been preparing as I instructed?”

  “Yes, John. He’s ready.”

  “Then so be it!”

  In the darkness outside of the old barn, there was a whir of wings as the barn owl flew to the ground. He rose quickly with the small mouse clutched tightly in his talons. As he disappeared into the night, the squeals of the dying mouse faded into silence.

  Chapter 4

  For the better part of an hour, a medic had been checking me from stem to stern.

  My head hurt, my back hurt, my elbows were scraped, and I was starving, but for a sixty-seven-year-old guy who had just missed being blown to smithereens, I really couldn’t complain.

  The doctor had just finished shining the beam of a tiny flashlight in my eyes when Maggie burst through the door.

  “Walt! Are you all right?”

  Before I could answer, the doctor responded, “He’ll be fine, Mrs. Williams. I want you to take him home and watch him this evening. If there’s no dizziness, disorientation, or blurred vision, he can probably go back to work tomorrow.”

  The doctor left the room, and Maggie grabbed me and held me close.

  “Oh, Walt! I thought I was a widow on your first day back on the job. I was so frightened.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Vince. He was stationed at the Liberty Memorial. He was actually watching the parade below when the bomb exploded. He was transported to the scene to assist with the crowd control and saw the medics put you and Ox in the ambulance. He called me on his cell. How is Ox?”

  “He’ll be okay. He’s getting stitched up somewhere. He’ll have a really sore back, but he’ll be fine.”

  “Let’s get you out of here.”

  “Okay, but here’s the deal; my car is still at the precinct. I’ll need you to drive me there to pick it up. Also, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I threw that up at the bombing site.

  “I need to run by my apartment and pick up a few things I forgot yesterday. How about we meet at Mel’s? I could sure use some comfort food about now—or we could go home and you could cook me a big dinner.”

  “Mel’s it is!”

  I was really tired and hoping to avoid meeting my friends at the apartment, but with Dad and Jerry occupying the first floor, I didn’t stand a chance. By the time I reached the front steps, everybody was there.

  Dad grabbed me by the shoulders. “Walt! We’ve been watching the TV. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, Dad. I’m fine. I’m just tired, hungry, and my head hurts. I need to pick up a few things upstairs, and Maggie’s waiting for me. Do you suppose we could talk tomorrow?”

  “Sure, son. I understand.” Turning to the others, he said, “Let’s give the kid a break.”

  They all nodded, and I trudged up the stairs. Everyone returned to their apartments but Jerry. I looked back, and he was right on my heels.

  “Walt, you look like hell.”

  “Gosh, Jerry, thanks for noticing.”

  “It must have been terrible out there.”

  “Yeah, it really was. I can’t seem to get the sight of all those dead and injured people out of my mind.”

  Jerry followed me into my apartment and watched as I gathered my things. “I’ll bet it was really beautiful in Hawaii.”

  “It was unbelievably beautiful.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go. In fact, while you were away I read some books and learned some Hawaiian words and phrases.”

  I was surprised. I had never pictured Jerry as a scholar. “No kidding? What did you learn?”

  “Well, I learned this one phrase I thought might be useful someday. Kummona wanna leiu.”

  He had said it with such a straight face that I couldn’t tell if he was serious or just pulling my leg, so I just stared at him.

  “Kummona wanna leiu! Do I have to spell it out for you? Come-on-I-wanna-lay-you. Get it?”

  “Got it.” This was the Jerry I knew.

  “I also read about a terrible Hawaiian disease, lakka nukki.” He spelled it out just in case I missed it. “Lack-of-nookie! Then there’s one of my personal favorites: ya wanna hava hikki?”

  “Jerry, you are one sick puppy.”

  “Thanks, Walt. I try.”

  As I was driving from my apartment to Mel’s on Broadway, I couldn’t get that stupid phrase out of my mind. Kummona wanna leiu. Kummona wanna leiu.

  Every time I said it, it brought a smile to my lips.

  Suddenly I realized that I wasn’t dwelling on the murder and mayhem I had witnessed earlier in the day. It was like a burden had been lifted from my shoulders.

  Maybe laughter is indeed the best medicine.

  “Thanks, Jerry.”

  Mel’s is my favorite place to eat. Maggie’s, not so much.

  It’s just a little diner on Broadway—no frills or fancy stuff. But the reason I love it and Maggie doesn’t is because all of Mel’s food comes with my three favorite food groups: sugar, butter, and grease. Maggie is more into veggies and fiber.

  After the harrowing day I had experienced, I figured a meal at Mel’s was just what the doctor ordered.

  After a plate of deep-fried chicken with the crunchy coating on the outside, creamy mashed potatoes with thick brown gravy, green beans, and Texas toast, I felt like a new man. Comfort food does it every time!

  In between bites, I watched the beautiful lady sitting across the table from me.

  If things had been just a little different today, I wouldn’t have been eating this fantastic meal and looking into those big blue eyes. Was it just blind luck, or are there forces operating in the universe that we just don’t understand?

  Maybe Lady Justice wasn’t finished with me yet.

  On the drive home, I thought about how quickly life can come to an end and how we should live each day to the fullest, and I decided there was one more thing I needed to do that night in case I didn’t wake up in the morning.

  I’ve never been one of those guys who could lure a woman with a fancy pick-up line in a bar, but as Maggie was peeling off her street clothes, I thought I might as well give it a try.

  “I learned a few Hawaiian phrases while we were in the Islands.”

  Really smooth.

  “Like what?”

  “Like, kummona wanna leiu.”
>
  I didn’t get the result I was hoping for.

  She gave me the look. “You’ve been with Jerry, haven’t you?”

  “You can tell?”

  “Walt, you were nearly killed. You suffered a blow to the head. You need to rest.”

  “So after my miraculous escape from death, I am doomed to succumb to a dreaded Hawaiian disease?”

  “What disease?”

  “Lakka nukki.”

  That brought the smile I was looking for. “I’m all for disease prevention. Maybe you could give me an injection?”

  The two words that came to my mind probably weren’t Hawaiian, but they fit the occasion.

  Hubba hubba!

  Chapter 5

  The squad room was subdued as we waited for Captain Short.

  I knew our briefing was not going to be a pleasant one. I had read the front-page article in the Kansas City Star. Seventy people had died, and over three hundred were injured, some critically. At press time, no one had claimed responsibility for the atrocity, but it was assumed that the violence was directed to the gay community.

  A haggard Captain Short entered the room. It looked like he hadn’t left the precinct since the blast. It had been a rough twenty-four hours.

  “Gentlemen, Kansas City has just suffered its greatest tragedy since the collapse of the walkway at the Hyatt Regency in 1981. At the last count, seventy-eight men, women, and children have died, and many are just hanging on by a thread.

  “If there is any silver lining in this horrible affair, it is that no Kansas City police officer was lost. Officers Wilson and Williams were closest to the blast, and I’m happy to say both Ox and Walt are here with us today.”

  There were no cheers today, but we did get a lot of nods, smiles, and thumbs-up.

  The captain continued, “The epicenter of the blast was the exact location of the tamale cart.” He turned to Ox. “I understand that you were by the cart just prior to the explosion. Did you see who was manning the cart?”

  “No, Captain. No one was there. I asked a guy standing by the cart, and he said the tamale guy had left fifteen minutes previously and hadn’t returned.”