Injustice

by K A Kron

  Chapter 56

  My apartment was a disaster, and I pushed a stack of law books off the coffee table, scattering dust bunnies across the wood floor. I watched for a second as the morning light from the windows caught them, and I knew they would live to see another day. Cleaning the apartment was the least of my concerns. I fired up the laptop to start the preliminary assessment on Tolliver.

  Tolliver’s life was in a downward spiral. In addition to the DUIs, he was in danger of failing out of school, probably because he rarely attended class. The Corner Grill wasn’t doing well, according to tax records, and Tolliver’s income had suffered. His bills were late, and Tolliver had been served one eviction notice from his downtown landlord.

  I stretched and felt the soreness from the morning run starting to settle into my muscles. It was a good hurt; the run had helped clear my mind. I felt strong and committed to seeing this through, regardless of the outcome. It was going to be messy, and I smiled at the thought.

  I spent the rest of the day at least pretending to focus on my studies, getting the minimum work done for the group that night.

  Our weekly meeting was at Ali’s dads’ house, since they were again on a trip.

  I planned on going back to the drawing board, working on my plans, after our meeting was over, but Ali could be very persuasive. After the others were gone, I tried to take my leave as well, but my car keys were nowhere to be found. “Ali, have you seen my keys?”

  She had no interest in helping me find them. “I think they’ll surface in the morning. Do you have a problem with that?”

  I did have a big problem with that. She kissed me. I still had a problem with that. I needed to go, but Ali kissed me again and started shedding layers. “I don’t have a problem with anything right now.” She could apparently distract me from anything.

  I glanced around the kitchen, barely noticing that the food from the evening was still out. Ali was starting to clean it up, or was she? Some things went into the fridge, but others came out. What was she up to? I looked over the newly displayed items and unsuccessfully tried not to smile. My heart was pounding, knowing that one or both of us was about to be a bedtime snack. Ali motioned to me to grab some stuff and follow her. In the pool area, she placed everything on the table. I still wasn’t totally clear about her plan. She didn’t have much to say, but she definitely got her point across. Off came the clothes. Mine, I mean. Ali nearly ripped the buttons off. I started to remove hers, but she pushed me away. “No touching.”

  No touching! Well that wasn’t going to be very much fun. I backed off and let her continue with her plan. She pulled out a floating table, put the goodies on it, and let it float away. I started to get into the pool, but she grabbed me and shook her head. She pulled over a blow-up lounge chair and motioned to me to get on it and lie down. “Don’t get wet, okay?”

  I couldn’t help but think it was too late for that. I carefully crawled onto the unstable floating chair, getting comfortable on my back, finding myself now blindfolded. Even though it was probably ninety degrees in there, I was shivering. I tried to identify the different items as they were placed on my skin, but I soon lost focus. I was gently swaying on the water, and Ali was working her way around my body with her mouth! Several times, I tried to become an active participant, but I was denied access, so I just relaxed and enjoyed myself.

  After what seemed like an eternity in heaven, Ali pulled me off the floating chair, and I slid into the very warm water. She put her mouth on mine, and we both ended up on the bottom, kissing passionately, until we ran out of air and had to surface.

  Chapter 57

  I ignored the cry for attention coming from my law books and rode my bike to the Corner Grill for a late lunch, in a completely black funk. Despite all my training and previous missions, Ali was in my head and creating distractions I hadn’t anticipated. Instead of focusing on finding Oliver’s attackers, Here we were, having a good time, like everything was right with the world. I smiled, remembering the night before with Ali. and then mentally kicked myself for such a blatant lack of focus. I was angry that Ali was creating such an internal conflict for me and thought instead of the tasks I needed to complete in the next few hours.

  The restaurant was appropriately situated on the corner of 14th and Ogden, just east of Ice House. It catered to the local clientele by being open from five in the morning until 2 a.m., when the bars closed. The ambiance was part greasy spoon, part Cheers, and part downtown shithole.

  The afternoon crowd was thin, and I selected a stool at the bar. I spotted Tolliver toward the back of the restaurant near a wait station. Tolliver looked thinner than he had in the photos I had located, but he matched the SUV driver who had attacked Oliver. I felt the anger start to bubble, and I stared at my hands to focus my emotions.

  I ordered a vodka tonic and a salad from the bored bartender. He barely gave me a glance while taking my order and turned his attention back to an overseas golf tournament on the television. Late twenties, blond and doughy, the bartender was ill suited for his career choice. He made my drink and set it on the bar without taking his eyes off the monitor, the liquid slopping over the side and soaking the napkin. My eyes narrowed.

  “Lime?” I snapped my fingers at him, one of the things universally hated by bartenders.

  Mr. Personality barely moved, and I wondered if he was either hung over or stoned. I had seen sloths move with more purpose.

  “Huh?”

  Jesus, I thought. No wonder the place was tanking.

  Tolliver set a chicken salad in front of me and gave me a wide smile before turning his attention to the bartender.

  “Scott! Pay attention, man! Get the lady a new drink and put a lime in it this time.” Tolliver pushed my drink toward the bartender, who snapped out of his golf-induced coma. Tolliver smiled again and leaned in toward me.

  “Sorry, Jimmy.” Scott moved toward the well and then stopped mid stride as Tiger Woods appeared on the screen. I was becoming more fascinated with Scott’s golf obsession than I was with tracking Tolliver’s movements.

  Tolliver motioned to the salad. “Can I get you anything else?” He caught Scott’s lack of motion in his peripheral vision and slapped the bar top. Scott started, jerked his head, and finally picked up a bottle of Absolute. He was able to focus long enough to make the vodka tonic and remembered the lime. Scott crossed the short span of the bar, replaced my coaster and the drink, and retreated to where he could see the television. He never spoke.

  “He seems pretty into golf,” I commented.

  “Oh, yeah. Scott tends to become preoccupied with certain things. Sorry about that. Can I bring you anything else?”

  “He looked more than preoccupied,” I replied, not letting the topic die. “Your buddy must really like Tiger Woods,” I said.

  Tolliver’s eyes narrowed for just a second, and I would have missed the hatred I saw, if I had not been looking directly at his face. “Yep, he’s a big fan.” Tolliver walked away without waiting to see if I needed anything, and I knew I had struck a nerve.

  As I ate, I continued to watch Scott watch golf. Tiger Woods wasn’t his only obsession. Vijay Singh, the pro golfer from Fiji, also commanded Scott’s attention every time he was on the screen. Scott was able to silently fill orders when the other golfers were up but became catatonic each time Woods or Singh appeared, much to the irritation of the patrons on stools.

  “Scott, give me another beer, you fucking idiot,” said an older man to my left. Scott again snapped to attention and placed a Coors in front of the man.

  “Sorry, Carl,” he said.

  “Get your eyes off that monkey and pay attention. Go get me a hamburger.”

  Scott scurried off to the kitchen, and I busied myself by burning holes in the side of Carl’s head. We were in the middle of Denver, Colorado, not somewhere in the deep South, and Carl’s comment shocked me, despite myself. I was starting to get the picture. As Scott came back with Carl’s meal, I realized he was Tollive
r’s passenger in the SUV.

  I tried to figure out just how these guys could possibly have anything to do with Chris, a female Hispanic who just happened to be gay. That’s like a triple threat to them. Come to think of it, why were they even involved with a gay bar? As I glanced at the door, I almost choked on my food. I had to seriously think before showing my face in some of these places. Chris had just come in. I finished chewing the last of my meal, in spite of the situation, because I was starving and it was not bad. In the meantime, Chris had ordered and headed to the bathroom. She hadn’t noticed me. I tried not to jump out of my seat, grabbed the bill, threw down a tip, and headed to the register. By the time someone came to take my money, I could see Chris coming from the back of the building as I slid out the front door. Now that was enough to give me indigestion.

  Chapter 58

  It was a holiday, so there was no school that evening. That couldn’t have been better timing, as I had a new target to research. Apparently, Scott Simons was the invisible man. While Tolliver had been in and out of the Denver County legal system, Scott Simons didn’t have so much as a parking ticket. His credit was good, work history stable, and he seemed to come from a solid family of plain people. Simons had grown up in south Denver, graduated high school, attended Metro State College, and received a degree in biology. After a few years of not finding a job in the science industry, Simons had started working at the Corner Grill. I didn’t find a history of drug abuse, mental illness, or anything else that would cause Simons to become a racist, homophobic attacker, other than that his time at the Corner Grill coincided with Tolliver’s.

  I called Joe at the hospital while I peered into the refrigerator. Joe reported no change in Oliver’s condition, and I sighed, mentally calculating the cost of another day in intensive care. Oliver’s medical expenses were increasing exponentially, and I had little hope he would be able to pay the bills. I hung up and tossed the phone onto the counter while contemplating my dinner options. The refrigerator was a wasteland of empty space, and I felt my stomach growling in protest. Mustard, olives, and Blue Moon beer were not going to do it for the evening.

  My iPhone vibrated across the counter, and I checked the readout. It was Ali, asking if I wanted to study and grab something to eat. While I needed to eat, I knew studying was completely out of the question, and I didn’t need the distraction of Ali’s presence. I sent a text saying I was busy, which earned me nothing but electronic silence. I knew Ali may not understand, but I wanted time to research and plan my counterattack.

  By the late hours, I had managed to feed myself with takeout pizza and develop what I considered a brilliant plan. The details were a little shaky, I had to admit, but it was the best I was going to do, given the circumstances. I didn’t want to bring Charlie into the situation, both to protect him from reprisals and out of a stubborn need to do things myself, but the plan was going to require a quiet space. At midnight, I called Charlie’s cell. He answered on the first ring and sounded wide awake.

  “Does the eagle fly at dawn?” he asked.

  “No…I need a few more days.”

  I could hear Charlie smirking through the phone. “Why don’t you just let me handle it? I could have everything wrapped up by sunrise, and we could go grab breakfast after?” I could hear him walking around his apartment and knew he would be awake for the rest of the night. The offer was tempting, but I wanted to prove to myself and Charlie that I could do it without his help. That and I didn’t want to contract out Oliver’s revenge. Someone close to him should be the one to handle Tolliver and Simons, not a random hit man. Regardless of how easy it would be for said hit man.

  “I want to do it myself, Charlie,” I said. “I am going to need some space toward the end of the week, if you can help me with that part.”

  “Yep, just let me know when exactly. I have to run some pineapples down this week, but I should be back by Friday. I knew “pineapples” was code for grenades and that he was probably delivering them to a drug cartel in the southern part of Colorado. I no longer worried about Charlie’s excursions and had long ago abandoned any thoughts about his morality.

  “What’s your plan, Riley?” he asked.

  “I want to take the boys snorkeling.”

  “Nice. It’s been a long time since we’ve been to the beach,” he replied and disconnected.

  Chapter 59

  The text message from Ali was more generic than I had anticipated from a woman I had just slept with, and the tone left me angrier than I should have been. She sent a few messages about the week’s homework assignments but didn’t include anything remotely personal or intimate. I considered it another bad sign for my mental state that I was trying to infer any emotion from Ali’s texts and I was alternating between anger and longing to see her. I was determined to focus and ignored the third text message about school from Ali by turning off my phone. I hadn’t told Ali that I wouldn’t be in class this week, and I figured the time away would be a good opportunity to try to get my head straight. The attack had been the catalyst for what Charlie knew was inevitable: the return, at least in part, to the life I had been trying to forget. And I didn’t know how or even if Ali fit into my future.

  The delivery door for the Corner Grill was situated off an alley and was across from a roll-off dumpster. I had toyed with the idea of somehow trapping Tolliver and Simons in the dumpster and having it delivered to the warehouse, but the plan was riddled with problems, not the least of which was that I couldn’t lift either of them into the dumpster by myself. I watched the door from the comfort of the van parked halfway down the alley, a thermos of coffee at my side. At four, a produce truck lurched to a stop in front of the door, and the driver jumped out and rang the bell. The door swung open, and the driver disappeared inside, where I knew both Tolliver and Simons were alone, preparing for the breakfast shift.

  As the driver rolled crates of lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and other produce into the restaurant, I pulled a tight black mask over my face and gloves on my hands. Taking a gulp of coffee, I waited until the delivery driver had finished and driven the big refrigerator truck out of the alley. I knew I had few minutes to spare to ensure the plan was executed before the sun rose and other employees and staff began arriving at the Corner Grill.

  I positioned the van as close to the delivery door as possible and opened the side of the van to reveal a wheelchair lift. The van had cost $200 a day to rent, which I considered highway robbery, but it solved the issue of how to move Simons’ doughy butt. Plus, then I didn’t need Charlie’s help, I thought. lowering the lift to the ground. Unscrewing the light bulb over the door dropped the alley into predawn darkness, and the only thing I could see was the blue handicap emblem reflecting off the side of the van.

  I snuck one more sip of coffee, for good luck, I reasoned, and leaned on the doorbell. After about thirty seconds, I released the button and pressed it again, Listening to it ring inside, I heard Simons yell and let the button go, smiling. I pressed it again and stepped to the side of the door as he threw it open. Simons got the words, “What the fuck did you forget—” out before the Taser prongs hit him in the chest, and he seized up as if he were paralyzed. I released the trigger on the Taser as Simons fell to the pavement, hitting his head on the edge of the wheelchair lift.

  “Shit,” I whispered, as I watched his head bounce. It didn’t look too bad, but I gave Simons another hit on the Taser as I moved toward him. He was fatty but full of anger, and I didn’t want to wrestle with him in the alley. I handcuffed Simons with his hands behind his back and slipped a black hood over his head. As Simons started to come around, I Tased him again and slipped a pair of plastic flexcuffs around his ankles.

  Simons withered on the edge of the lift, and I pushed him backward with my boots. Satisfied, I turned back to the door, pressed the bell and held it for a full minute before I heard Tolliver yelling from inside. A colorful string of curse words preceded Tolliver to the delivery door, and he slammed it open, clearly ir
ritated.

  “Scott, stop fucking around!” Tolliver yelled, stepping into the alley. He spotted Simons lying on the wheelchair lift, now moaning, probably because his head hurt. “Hey! What—” Tolliver said before dropping to the pavement.

  I held the trigger down on the Taser for longer than I really needed to, but it was nice to see Tolliver thrash around. I knew the Taser was sending electricity pulsing through his body, a sensation that was both painful and completely debilitating. I released the trigger and moved to handcuff Tolliver. He recovered sooner than I would have expected and lunged toward me. I stepped back and kicked Tolliver in the side of his head, knocking him unconscious. As he lay slumped on the asphalt, I handcuffed Tolliver and bagged his head. I bent over to flexcuff Tolliver’s ankles, and someone goosed my ass. I jumped straight in the air, pivoting to face my attacker, and found Charlie collapsed in a fit of laughter against the side of the van. Only the knowledge that Simons and Tolliver could hear us kept me from screaming at him. I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to the back of the van, where I hoped we were out of earshot.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I hissed in his face.

  “Don’t be so angry. You have to admit that was funny,” Charlie smiled and hugged me.

  “No, it wasn’t, you asshole.” I pulled away from him and walked away in a huff.

  Tolliver was still unconscious, and I hoped I hadn’t killed him. I grabbed Tolliver under his arms and pulled him onto the lift, halfway on top of Simons, who panicked at the contact and started thrashing. I slipped in the commotion and fell, catching a view of the horizon and realizing that I needed to hurry before I was exposed in the daylight. In a pile of limbs, I untangled myself and stood up, punching Simons in the gut in the process. I was sweating and out of breath, panting as I stood on the lift. Charlie stood with his hands in his pockets watching me and mouthed a silent “Help?” in my direction.