[Lady Justice 39] - Lady Justice and the Raven

by Robert Thornhill

  I spent most of the day explaining what I knew about the tragedy. Needless to say, my story was met with skepticism. When all was said and done, all I could say was, “Strange, but true.”

  As I drove home from the grisly scene, I couldn’t put the promise I had made to Roderick Unger out of my mind. By the time I returned home, either from a sense of obligation or curiosity, I had decided to do my best to locate Jacob Unger and deliver the envelope Roderick had entrusted to me.

  I knew I couldn’t do it alone.

  I gave Kevin a call.

  “New case. Can you come over?”

  After he was seated in my office, he looked around. “Since no one is here but us, should I assume our new client, like the last one, is dead?”

  I nodded. “It’s a long story.”

  Although Kevin had been part of the Galen and Bertha Unger mystery, he knew nothing about my involvement with Roderick and Madeline. He sat there dumbfounded while I shared my adventures at the House of Unger.

  “Holy crap!” he muttered when I was finished. “Let me get this straight. Old Carl impregnates his daughter, Lenore. She has twins, Roderick and Madeline, who both have strange mutations due to the incest, then the brother diddles his sister and they have a kid named Jacob. Have I missed anything?”

  “That’s as much as I know.”

  “One thing is for sure,” Kevin said, “the Unger family tree certainly doesn’t fork. It’s as straight as a flagpole. If Roderick and Madeline had these afflictions as a result of the family incest, how do you suppose young Jacob turned out?”

  Immediately, the image of the little boy who played the banjo in the movie, Deliverance, popped into my mind.

  “That’s the question, isn’t it? I promised Roderick just before he died that I’d find Jacob. Are you interested?”

  “Is Bernie Sanders a socialist?”

  From what I’d seen on the TV debates, I figured that was a yes.

  “Once we locate him, I’m to give him this,” I said, holding up the envelope.

  “What’s that?” Kevin asked.

  “I have no idea. Roderick gave it to me just before he returned to the vault to perish with his sister. He made me promise to give it to Jacob once he was found.”

  “Have you looked inside?”

  “Nope. It’s sealed.”

  Kevin grinned. “This just gets curiouser and curiouser. Where should we start?”

  “I found Carl and Roderick using the public tax records. Let’s start there.”

  I booted up the computer, opened the tax website, and entered Jacob Unger. After the little ball spun for ten minutes, the screen read, “No results.”

  “Well, crap.”

  “You didn’t really think it would be that easy, did you?” Kevin asked.

  “One can always hope. Let’s try one of those ‘people finder’ websites.”

  I Googled ‘people finder’ and a bazillion sites popped up.

  “Might as well try the first one, truthfinder.com.”

  The first screen asked me to fill in the first and last name, then press ‘continue.’ I entered as much information as I had on the following screens. When I hit continue again, a green bar started moving across the screen. As it proceeded, the script told me it was searching over a billion databases to access key information, social media, the government watch list, and even personal comments by others.

  “Unbelievable,” I remarked as the website probed the cyber world for every bit of information on Jacob Unger. “Anybody can find out everything about a person with this thing. It’s just creepy!”

  “A bit of advice,” Kevin said. “Don’t do anything online you don’t want the world to know about.”

  When the green line read 100%, truthfinder reported they had located 101 people named Jacob Unger. The first page of the report listed age, city of residence, and relatives. The age range was from the low 20’s to 102.

  “How old would you guess our Jacob to be?” Kevin asked.

  “Based on Roderick and Madeline’s age, I’d say somewhere in the low thirties.”

  “Then let’s start there. We can eliminate those much younger and much older.”

  Having done that, we still had sixteen people in our target age range.

  We checked the ‘relatives’ list associated with each entry, but none of them had a relative named Lenore, Roderick, or Madeline.

  Out of all 101 Jacobs, only one lived in Kansas City and he was just twenty-two. To make sure we didn’t miss anything, we went back over the relative list of every Jacob, but again, not a one was related to a Lenore, Roderick, or Madeline.

  The screen said that if we wanted the entire file on any of the Jacobs, just enter my name and email address and click continue.

  “Might as well get everything on the Kansas City Jacob,” I said, entering my name and email address. I clicked continue, and the green bar started across the screen again.

  “You do realize,” Kevin observed, “that right now that website is sucking every bit of information it can from your computer.”

  “OH Hell NO!” I exclaimed, exiting the website.

  “You want something from them,” Kevin said, “and they get something from you. That’s how they get so much data on everyone.”

  “There’s always a catch.”

  Just to make sure we didn’t miss anything, I pulled up another people finder website, beenverified.com, and did the same search for Jacob Unger. Same result.

  “So what now?” Kevin asked as I shut down the computer.

  “I’ll give Ox a call and have him run the name through the police data base.” Ox was my partner for the five years I served on the Kansas City Police force.

  “Ox, Walt here. I’d like you to run a name for me if you have time.”

  “You bet. What’s the name?”

  “Jacob Unger, white male, probably in his thirties.”

  “Are you looking for anything special?”

  “Just trying to see if he actually exists. We’re looking for him in connection with a current case.”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  True to his word, Ox called back fifteen minutes later. “Sorry, partner. Nothing pops up on a Jacob Unger. If there is one in Kansas City, he has no police record.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  “No dice?” Kevin asked.

  “Nope, but there’s one more place I can try. Mark Davenport. The Feds have data bases out the wazoo.”

  Mark is the half-brother I didn’t know existed until he came into my life a few years ago. At that time, he worked for the FBI, but then transferred to Homeland Security. We’ve actually worked a few cases together.

  “Mark, Walt here. How’s everything in Washington?”

  “Trump City? How do you think everything’s going?”

  “It was actually a rhetorical question. I need a favor.”

  “Oh really? You think just because we’re related you can just call Homeland Security any old time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, what do you want?”

  “I’d like you to run a name, Jacob Unger, white male, approximately thirty years old. He would be related to Galen, Lenore, Roderick or Madeline Unger.”

  “Roderick or Madeline Unger? As in Roderick and Madeline Usher? Walt, if this is some kind of joke, it isn’t funny.”

  “No joke! I swear. But yes, for some strange reason this whole case is somehow related to Edgar Allen Poe stories. I’m surprised you caught it.”

  “Why would you say that? I read! Is this guy a terrorist?”

  “Probably not. He’s just a person of interest in a case we’re working on. We’ve exhausted every other means to locate him. I know you guys have your finger in everybody’s pie, so if he’s out there, you’ve probably spied on him.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere. Give me a day and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Thanks, I owe you one.”

  “You bet you do!”

&nbs
p; The next day, Mark called back.

  “Sorry, Walt. Lots of Jacob Unger’s out there, but none related to Galen, Lenore, Roderick or Madeline. If I knew more ---.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s all we have, Mark. The guy might even be dead for all we know. I appreciate you trying.”

  “Say ‘Hi’ to Dad for me.”

  “Will do.”

  So there it was. We’d exhausted every avenue to locate Jacob Unger, but no luck.

  I looked at the envelope I’d promised Roderick I would deliver. There seemed to be only one thing left to do --- open it. Maybe there would be some clue on the inside that would help us find the elusive Jacob.

  I called Kevin. “Mark struck out. I’ve decided to open the envelope. Do you want to be here when I do?”

  “Do the Kardashian women have chubby cheeks?”

  That, of course, was a yes, and Kevin was in my office twenty minutes later.

  We both stared at the envelope. The back was sealed with the Unger crest.

  “Wow!” Kevin said. “That’s fancy. Does the Williams family have a crest?”

  “No idea. Well, let’s do it.”

  I slit it open and found two documents inside. The first was a letter from Roderick and Madeline to Jacob, and the second seemed to be some kind of map.

  I opened the letter and read.

  Dearest Jacob,

  If you are reading this, it means we are no longer of this world. We are writing to tell you how much we both love you.

  We also want you to know we understand why you left after learning the truth about your lineage. Unfortunately, it was not of your choosing, but it’s part of who you are. We can only hope that you are leading a happy and fulfilling life in spite of what fate has cast upon you.

  There is more that you should know about those who came before you.

  As you are well aware, your great-grandfather, Carl, did unspeakable things to your grandmother, Lenore. In addition to that, he was a scoundrel who had no misgivings about breaking the law.

  Just before Lenore put him in his grave, Carl Unger robbed the Plaza Bank & Trust. He hid the money from the robbery, planning to retrieve it in due time. Lenore ended his life before that transpired. It was only later that Lenore found the map to the hidden money.

  Your grandmother so despised her father, she wanted nothing to do with his ill-gotten wealth. On her death bed, she passed the map to us to do with as we saw fit.

  As you are well aware, due to the afflictions heaped upon us by Carl’s incest, neither of us can venture far from the House of Unger. In truth, we had no designs on the money even if our health had permitted us to pursue it.

  So it has come to this. Accompanying our final epistle to you, our son, is the map that Lenore passed to us. We, in turn, pass it to you. Do with it what you will.

  Finally, it is our dying wish that you live a happy and prosperous life, and cast off, once and for all, the curse that has followed the House of Unger for generations.

  Your loving parents,

  Roderick and Madeline Unger

  “Holy crap!” Kevin muttered.

  “No kidding!” I replied.

  We both just sat there, stunned.

  “Do you suppose this is for real?” Kevin asked.

  “One way to find out,” I replied, booting up the computer.

  I Googled “Bank robberies, Kansas City, 1970’s.”

  “Here we go,” I said. “Looks like there were several of them.”

  I scrolled through the entries. “Bingo! This one is dated May 18th, 1973. ‘Just after the bank opened for business, an armed man entered the Plaza Bank & Trust wearing a ski mask and demanded the bank president open the vault. A spokesman for the FBI said the suspect was a white male, approximately six feet in height, weighing two hundred pounds. The bank president estimated that the thief escaped with cash valued at $40,000. At this time, no suspects are in custody.’”

  “Let me see if I’ve got this right,” Kevin said. “Old Carl holds up the bank, then buries the loot, planning to dig it up after the heat is off, but Lenore whacks the old guy with a poker before he goes back for it.

  “After he’s buried under the parlor floor, Lenore finds the map but wants nothing to do with it. She passes it on to Roderick and Madeline, but they’re too weak and sick to go treasure hunting, and now, they’re passing the map on to the great-grandson, Jacob, who doesn’t seem to exist.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “Let’s take a look at that map.”

  I unfolded the map and spread it out on the desk. I was surprised to see that the only thing on the map was a drawing of a rose and some kind of blob.

  “What the hell kind of map is that?” Kevin asked. “It’s worthless.”

  I had to agree. There was no way we were going to find where Carl buried his loot with what we were looking at.

  At that moment, a huge black bird swooped down and perched on the window sill.

  “Holy crap!” Kevin exclaimed. He was in the chair closest to the window and nearly jumped out of his seat.

  I stared at the bird for a moment. It wasn’t just a black bird. It was a raven. I thought about it for a minute, and then it struck me.

  “I think I’ve got it!”

  “Got what?”

  “So far, everything that has happened since Maggie bought that dresser has been associated with one of Edgar Allen Poe’s poems or short stories.”

  “So?”

  “Hang on a minute and I’ll show you.”

  I grabbed my book of Poe stories and turned to The Gold-Bug.

  “This is the story of a guy who finds a treasure map, and like our map, there is nothing on it but the picture of a bug that’s shaped like a skull. Quite by accident, the guy discovers that holding the map over a flame produces the rest of the map. Here’s the passage.”

  When I considered all these particulars, I doubted not for a moment that heat had been the agent in bringing to light, on the parchment, the skull which I saw designed on it. You are well aware that chemical preparations exist, and have existed time out of mind, by means of which it is possible to write on either paper or vellum, so that the characters shall become visible only when subjected to the action of fire.

  I immediately kindled a fire, and subjected every portion of the parchment to a glowing heat. At first, the only effect was the strengthening of the faint lines in the skull; but, on persevering in the experiment, there became visible, at the corner of the slip, diagonally opposite to the spot in which the death's-head was delineated, the figure of what I at first supposed to be a goat. A closer scrutiny, however, satisfied me that it was intended for a kid.

  I held the vellum again to the fire, after increasing the heat; but nothing appeared. I now thought it possible that the coating of dirt might have something to do with the failure; so I carefully rinsed the parchment by pouring warm water over it, and, having done this, I placed it in a tin pan, with the skull downwards, and put the pan upon a furnace of lighted charcoal. In a few minutes, the pan having become thoroughly heated, I removed the slip, and, to my inexpressible joy, found it spotted, in several places, with what appeared to be figures arranged in lines. Again, I placed it in the pan, and suffered it to remain another minute. On taking it off, the whole was just as you see it now.

  “The rest of the map appeared after being subjected to heat.”

  “And you think ---?”

  “Yeah, I do. MAGGIE!”

  My wife poked her head in the office door. “You rang, master?”

  “Would you please bring me one of those three wick candles you buy at the mall?”

  “I have Pumpkin Spice and Apple Cobbler. Which would suit your fancy?”

  “I don’t care --- wait --- yes I do. Bring the Apple Cobbler. Oh yes, bring that lighter thingy too.”

  Moments later, she appeared with the candle and lighter. “What’s the occasion?” she asked.

  “Just watch,” I said, lighting the three
wicks.

  As soon as they were going strong, I gently held the map over the flames. Our mouths dropped open when distinct lines began to appear.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Kevin exclaimed. “You were right! Now what are we looking at?”

  Around the outside of the map were names, Wornall, 52, and Summit. As soon as I saw the names, I knew exactly what it was --- a map of Loose Park and those were the streets surrounding it. I recognized the blob at the bottom as the Loose Park Lake. I knew it well. When I was on the force, I drove a bomb into the lake, blowing up the dam, flooding the surrounding neighborhood, and killing a boat load of fish.

  “That’s a map of Loose Park,” I said. “I’ll show you.”

  I booted up the computer and pulled up a map of Loose Park.

  “See! That’s it exactly. The rose in the upper right corner represents the rose garden, and if I’m right, what we’re looking for is buried two hundred paces to the south.”

  “And exactly what is it you’re looking for?” Maggie asked.

  “Buried treasure, my love. Buried treasure!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Good Lord!”

  CHAPTER 10

  After I shared what we’d found in the letter Roderick had given me, Maggie’s eyes were wide.

  “Please don’t tell me the two of you are going to dig up Loose Park!”

  “Hey!” I said defensively, “this is all your fault. If you hadn’t bought that chest at the craft fair, we wouldn’t be sitting here right now with a treasure map.”

  “Think about it, Sis,” Kevin said. “There’s forty grand buried in that park somewhere. Surely you don’t expect us to just walk away from that.”

  She sighed. “No, I suppose not. Are you planning to just sashay out there with a couple of shovels and start digging up the place? I have to believe someone would take offense at two old codgers defacing a public park.”

  “Actually, we hadn’t thought that far ahead,” I replied. I turned to Kevin. “She’s right you know. Any ideas?”