“Have you seen this man in here?”
He looked at the phone.
“Well first, that’s no dude. And second, she’s pretty hot for an old gal.”
I looked at the phone and there, in all her glory, was Maggie --- buck-naked.
Oh crap! I thought. Maggie’s going to kill me!
I had promised her that I would erase the photo, but nobody had showed me how.
I looked at Ox who was doing his best to hold it together.
“Ain’t technology great!” he said.
I regained my composure, scrolled through the photo album and held up the correct picture.
“How about this one?”
“Sure. That’s Jack Fredricks. He’s a regular --- Monday, Wednesday and Friday --- caramel frappuccino --- no whipped cream.
“He don’t look so good.”
“That’s because he’s dead.”
“Old Jack is dead. DAMN!”
“Were the two of you close?”
“Not really. But he was a hell of a tipper. He’d hand over a ten spot each time. Then he’d wink and say 'Keep the change.' He always had a big wad of cash in his wallet.”
I looked at Ox and he nodded.
Jack Fredricks had flashed his cash one too many times.
“So he was in here last night?” Ox asked.
“Yeah, about seven, I think.”
“Was he with anyone?”
“Not that I could see. He just got his drink and left.”
We thanked the clerk and as we headed back to the car, I commented, “I’ll bet this won’t be the last of these copycat murders.”
I just didn’t know that it would be so soon.
It had been a long day and I was looking forward to getting home to Maggie to enjoy what was left of the evening.
I had just finished with the plate that Maggie had kept warm for me in the oven, when I heard a knock on the door.
Oh great! What now? I thought.
I opened the door and looked into the faces of my five tenants.
Just what I needed.
“And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?” I asked.
“Do you still have those DNR things we gave you?” Dad asked. “You know, where we gave you permission to pull our plugs?”
“Sure,” I said. “They’re in my file cabinet.”
“Could you get them? We want to add some stuff.”
“Really? What kind of stuff?”
Just then, Maggie came up behind me.
“For heaven’s sake, Walt. Don’t make them stand out in the hall. Invite them in.”
“But it’s getting late,” I protested.
“Yeah, I know it’s late,” Dad said, “but this is important, Sonny.”
After we were all seated in the living room, I said, “OK, what’s so urgent?”
“Well,” Dad replied, “none of us are spring chickens. And with all this death stuff that’s been going on and with old Mort over at the hotel --- well, we thought we should do some planning. You know, just in case one of us is next.”
“What kind of planning?”
“Walt, you’re my next of kin. What are you going to do with me when I croak?”
“I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“SEE! We need to figure this stuff out.”
“We’ve been doing some research,” Jerry said, “about how different cultures deal with their old folks.
“We read about how the Eskimos set their old people adrift on icebergs and how some tribes light a big funeral pyre.”
“Well first, we’re a little short on icebergs here in midtown and second, Kansas City has a no-burning ordinance, so I think we can rule out those two possibilities.”
“That wasn’t the point,” Dad said. “You obviously haven’t given much thought as to how you’re going to dispose of my remains.”
“No, I’ll have to admit that hasn’t been at the top of my to-do list.”
“We’ve done some checking,” the Professor said, “and it would seem that our two most viable options are cremation and burial.”
“I just don’t know if I could stand being buried,” Bernice said. “Just thinking about being put in a box and buried in the ground with all those worms and bugs and crawly things. It gives me the creeps.”
“Now Bernice,” Dad said, “we’ve been over this. They don’t just dig a hole and toss you in. You’re placed in a casket, and the casket is put in a vault. No worms --- no bugs.”
“Well that’s better, but all that dirt on top of me --- I just don’t know.”
“Another consideration,” the Professor said, “is the cost. A modest casket, a vault and opening the grave would run about eight thousand. By comparison, cremation and a nice urn would run about fifteen hundred.”
“Plus, you have to buy a burial plot and a headstone,” Jerry said. “I know I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Cremation is the way I want to go,” Dad said. “Then just go to a high hill and scatter my ashes to the four winds.
“I’ve been all over this great country, first in the service and then as a trucker. I can’t see spending eternity stuck in a hole somewhere. Let the wind scatter me to the far corners of the earth.”
I thought that would certainly be a fitting end for my Dad, and if we had a memorial service, the song that I would select to commemorate his life would be Ricky Nelson’s Travelin’ Man.
Well I’m a travelin’ man; made a lot of stops, all over this world.
And in every port I own the heart of at least one lovely girl.
Then Willie spoke up.
“I got me a question ‘bout dis cremation stuff. What about ghosts? Say I might want to hang around a while and haunt some folks. Can I still do it if I ain’t nothin’ but ashes? The ghosts I’ve seen always come back in bodies.”
“That’s an easy one,” Jerry said. “Buried ghosts come back in their bodies, but cremated ghosts come back in white sheets.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Willie said. “I’ve seen both kinds.”
“But you don’t EVER want to goose one of those ghosts,” Jerry said solemnly.
“How come?”
“Cause you’ll get ‘sheet’ on your finger!”
“You’re just sick!” Bernice said.
“And while we’re on the subject,” Jerry said, “here’s one for you.
“If a ram is a male sheep and an ass is a donkey, how come a ram in the ass is a goose?”
“Can’t you EVER be serious?” Bernice said.
“OK. I’ve got another question,” Jerry said. “If Willie and I were both cremated, would our ashes be different colors?”
“That is an interesting observation,” the Professor said.
I could tell that the conversation had drifted to the absurd and it was getting later by the minute.
“Just stay here. I’ll get your living wills. You can take them and make whatever notations you want about the disposition of your remains.
“Just don’t bring them back tonight. I’m going to bed!”
The next day was uneventful, but on the second day after Fredrick’s body was discovered, we heard another call come through the radio.
We were patrolling Midtown, but when I heard that a body had been discovered in the eighty-three hundred block of Belleview, I radioed that we were also proceeding to the scene.
The black and white that had taken the call was already there when we arrived.
The responding officer was surprised to see us.
“So what are you guys doing here? I don’t remember signaling for the Dynamic Duo.”
“Very funny,” I said. “Ox and I have responded to three of these calls and we just wanted to compare this scene with the ones we worked.”
“Knock yourself out,” he said. “Martha Wallace --- seventy-eight --- lives alone. Found her in her rocker. No signs of a struggle or forced entry. Any ideas?”
I looked at the
body.
“Tell the coroner to look for something called methocarbamol and I’ll bet you lunch at Mel’s that she was smothered.”
“Whoa! You seem pretty sure about all that.”
“Just check it out. Mind if we look around the house?”
“Help yourself.”
We made the rounds and ended up in her bedroom. Her purse was on a nightstand.
Ox opened the purse and found her wallet. Sure enough --- no credit cards or cash.
I saw a white slip of paper and opened it up.
It was a cash receipt from the Target store at the Ward Parkway Mall.
The time stamp was seven-forty-five the previous night.
Our copycat was stalking seniors and abducting them at the Mall.
We had to figure out how.
CHAPTER 11
The captain was staring at the two register receipts.
I could tell that he was pissed.
“So you’re telling me that you lifted evidence from two crime scenes and didn’t log it in?”
“It’s all on me,” I said. “Ox had no idea.
“I had a theory and I wanted to check it out and I think I’m right. Someone is abducting these old folks from the Mall, driving them to their homes, robbing them and making their murders look like it was the work of Dr. Death --- but they’re not getting it right.”
“You seem to have a way of circumventing normal procedure,” he said. “I hope one day it doesn’t come back and bite you in the butt.”
“Yes, sir. I hear you.”
“If you’re right,” the captain said, “we need to focus on that Mall. Whoever is doing this has killed twice in three days.
“Has there been any activity on the credit cards taken from the victim’s purse and wallet?” I asked.
“Not on the credit cards, but the thieves used ATM machines to clean out their bank accounts.”
“Was there anything you could use from the surveillance cameras at the ATM’s?” Ox asked.
“Not a thing,” he replied. “The guy was wearing a ball cap pulled low over his face. We never got a look.
“Back to the Mall thing. Do you guys have any ideas?”
“Actually, we do,” Ox said. “Those indoor malls are filled with seniors. It’s the perfect place for them to exercise --- it’s warm in the winter and cool in the summer --- so they show up in droves. They walk and shop and talk to each other --- easy pickings for someone targeting seniors.”
“So,” I said, “we need to get our own seniors in there --- some really old guys who fit the profile.
“There are at least a half dozen ways in and out of the mall, so we would need officers in plain clothes to cover the exits. With eight to ten pairs of eyes in there, we’ve got a good chance to catch the guy if he tries it again.”
“I like the idea, but you’re the oldest guy we have and unless we let Samantha have another go at you, you really don’t fit the profile.”
“I think I can come up with some old dudes who’d love to help.”
“You’re not talking civilians, I hope?”
“Where else are you going to find eighty year-old guys?
“All they have to do is walk around the mall and flash a little cash. We’ll have eyes on them all the time. Besides, these guys have worked with me before.”
“Why do I let you talk me into these hare-brained schemes?”
“Because they work --- well --- most of the time.”
“Heaven help us!”
A casual observer would never have guessed that the little group gathered in the Armour Boulevard apartment was one of Lady Justice’s premier crime-fighting teams.
It consisted of two octogenarians, a scrawny, gray-headed black guy and a sixty-eight year old cop.
I had just showed them crime scene photos of Jack Fredricks and Martha Wallace.
“That’s horrible!” Dad said. “Count me in! We gotta nail those bastards!”
“I, too, would love to participate,” the Professor said. “It’s not often that men of our age have the opportunity to serve in law enforcement.”
“So wot do we gotta do?” Willie asked.
“Dad and the Professor will simply stroll around the mall --- exercising like dozens of others. Every so often they will flash a wad of bills --- supplied by the department --- to buy coffee or some little trinket.”
“Wot ‘bout me?” Willie asked.
“You’ll be dressed as mall maintenance. You’ll sweep floors, empty trash cans --- stuff like that.”
“How come I got to be a janitor?” he asked indignantly. “Sounds like racial profilin’ to me.”
“Quite the contrary,” I said. “That’s one of the most important jobs. The janitor thing is just your cover. You’re actually part of the surveillance team. It gives you the opportunity to keep your eyes on Dad and the Professor.”
“Well, in dat case, I guess it’s OK.”
My team was on board and we were ready to roll.
By five o’clock the next day, we had everything set up.
There were officers in plainclothes milling around all the interior entrances and officers in unmarked cars watched the exterior exits.
Willie was busy pushing a big broom while Dad and the Professor casually strolled the promenade.
If the guy struck again, we would be ready.
Surveillance work can be mind numbing. After three hours of watching mothers drag screaming kids through the mall and old fat ladies waddling laps, I was about to scream.
Ox came up beside me. “It’s quiet and I’m starved. Let’s break for a bite to eat.”
I was ready.
The only place close by was a fast food franchise called Five Guys Burgers and Fries.
I had seen their ads on TV, but had never eaten there.
The idea of a juicy burger and greasy French fries was actually appealing.
It didn’t exactly fit with my current diet, but I figured that considering all the fiber and other organic stuff that Maggie had been feeding me lately, a little grease to lubricate the old poop chute couldn’t hurt.
When we walked in, the first thing I saw was a sign that read, “100% Fresh Beef ----No Fillers --- No Preservatives --- Our Menu Is Transfat Free.”
Well, there you go, I thought. Maggie would be proud and I can eat guilt-free.
I ordered my burger and fries and while I waited for my order, I noticed copies of news clippings on the wall.
One said, “The Best $5 Burger A Man Can Eat” GQ Magazine.
Another said, “Rated #1 Burger for Lunch in NYC.”
I had ordered a single bacon cheeseburger with lettuce and tomato. Ox ordered a double with everything.
When Ox unwrapped his burger, the thing was so big, there was no way I could ever open my mouth wide enough to eat it, but somehow, Ox managed.
He took a bite, swallowed and said, “Damn! That’s good!”
I took my first bite, and he was right. It was damn good.
We had nearly finished wolfing down our burgers and cajun fries, when the manager approached.
“How was your lunch?” he asked. “Can I get you anything else?”
I was about to answer when I heard a siren and saw lights flashing in the parking lot.
An ambulance pulled up to the curb and two paramedics jumped out and unloaded a gurney.
I turned to Ox, “I wonder if we missed something?”
The manager, overhearing our conversation, said, “Oh, that’s nothing to be concerned about. We see them at least once a week. It’s the walkers --- the seniors --- every so often one falls or has a spell with their heart.
“Come to think of it though --- this is the third one this week.”
I thanked the manager and we took off after the gurney.
We caught up with it at the far end of the mall.
An elderly lady riding up the escalator didn’t make the dismount cleanly and had taken a tumble.
The paramedics were checking
her out but she seemed to have recovered.
“Do you need to go to the emergency room?” one asked.
“Heavens, no,” she replied. “I’m just a clumsy old woman. I’ll be OK.”
They packed up their gurney and left.
“False alarm,” I said to Ox.
The mall shut down at ten.
We packed it in and called it a day.
The second day was a carbon copy of the first.
Lots of walkers, but no stalkers.
The captain stopped by the mall just before closing.
“No action, I guess?” he asked.
“Everything’s quiet,” I said.
“I’m sorry, Walt, but I’m going to have to pull the plug. This operation requires a lot of manpower and with the weekend coming up, I’m going to need the officers elsewhere. We gave it a shot, but I’m afraid it’s time to move on.”
I was disappointed, but I couldn’t argue with his logic.
Since I had been tied up with the mall operation all week, Maggie and I hadn’t had much time to spend together.
I had promised her a ‘date’ and I was determined to make good on it.
We slept late, ate a leisurely breakfast and after lunch, took in an afternoon movie.
We stopped for a bite to eat after the movie and then headed home for, what I hoped would be, a romantic end to our day together.
On the way up the stairs, we met Bernice in the hall.
She seemed surprised. “Oh, I thought that might be your dad.”
I looked at my watch. It was almost nine o’clock.
“It’s late. What is Dad doing out at this hour?”
“Well, he and Willie left about five o’clock. They said they had some unfinished business at the mall. I thought he’d be back by now.”
I turned to Maggie, “Oh crap! They’re hot-dogging it! They’re out there by themselves with no backup. Call Ox and have him meet me at the mall. I gotta go.”
I kissed her and headed to the Ward Parkway Mall.
By the time I arrived, things were starting to shut down.
Most of the walkers were long gone. A few last-minute shoppers were checking out their purchases.
[Lady Justice 06] - Lady Justice and Dr. Death Page 8
