[Lady Justice 05] - Lady Justice and the Sting Read online

  REVIEWS

  With Lady Justice and the Sting, Robert Thornhill has put an exciting and hilarious spin on one of the most important and concerning issues today: our imploding ‘healthcare’ system.

  As the Founder of the New Medicine Foundation, I stay quite busy delivering scientifically backed healthcare solutions to clients around the world, and await the great transformation of our failing drug and surgery-based systems.

  It was to my great surprise that Bob delivered to me a manuscript of ‘The Sting’. Within a few sittings, I thoroughly digested and enjoyed his work while smiling ear to ear, laughing with excited anticipation as he efficiently and amusingly described the foundational and malicious problems behind our failing system.

  With ‘The Sting’ we will have something wonderfully fun and easy to provide for people to read, not only for enjoyment, but to make them aware of how misled the American public has been over the last many decades, as we are literally drugged and fed fake food to our early demise.

  This may well be the ‘Rich Dad / Poor Dad’ for the healthcare interested masses who are sick and tired of being SICK AND TIRED!

  Phenomenal work, Bob.

  You have found a calling and have much more to do!

  Dr. Edward W. Pearson, MD, ABIHM

  Robert hit a homer with this one!

  I had a great vision of the characters and the scene.

  It was a page-turner that was hard to put down. The book was well written to the extent that it was like watching a movie in your head.

  Walt is awesome and sheds light with good comedy that speaks volumes about the corruption in the government and corporations that we tend to overlook each day.

  I guess you could say that Robert is a whistle-blower but also makes it light.

  Dr. Britt Batchelor, DC

  ‘The Sting’ is a fast-paced mystery with unforgettable lovable characters.

  The plot is so believable I can envision something like this happening.

  It also makes me think twice before I get a prescription medication from the doctor.

  Robert Thornhill created another hit in this funny, memorable mystery.

  I look forward to more of his work.

  Sheri Wilkinson

  LADY JUSTICE

  AND

  THE STING

  A WALT WILLIAMS MYSTERY/COMEDY NOVEL

  ROBERT THORNHILL

  Lady Justice and the Sting

  Copyright 2011 by Robert Thornhill.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way, by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

  This novel is a work of fiction. However, the names, descriptions, entities and incidents included in the story are based on the lives of real people.

  Published in the United States of America

  Cover design by Peg Thornhill

  Fiction, Humorous

  Fiction, Mystery & Detective, General

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I would like to thank Kevin Trudeau for his book, Natural Cures “They” Don’t Want You To Know About, and Dr. David G. Williams for his newsletter, Alternatives For the Health-Conscious Individual, which were my inspiration for this work of fiction.

  While the names and events in Walt’s foray into the pharmaceutical industry and political corruption are fictitious, the story is based in fact and should be of concern to every American citizen.

  The quotations cited in this story are taken directly from these publications whose purpose is to enlighten the public as to their health care options.

  My wife, Peg, and I would also like to thank Mr. Trudeau and Dr. Williams personally, as well as Edward W. Pearson, MD, and his wife, Julie Pearson, DC, and their Wellness Center in Palm Harbor, Florida, and Britton Batchelor, DC, and his Balanced Body Chiropractic office in Independence, Mo., for helping us adopt a healthy lifestyle based on an organic diet, natural supplements and holistic health care.

  These professionals have helped us realize that healthy living is a choice available to everyone.

  PROLOGUE

  It was nearly five o'clock and Violet Jenkins was in the process of closing the clinic just as she had done for the past seventeen years.

  She had just reached into the desk drawer for her key ring when the door opened and a man stepped inside.

  He was wearing a business suit and a small fedora on his head. That drew her attention right away. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen a man with a fedora.

  Then she noticed his face. Two dark, deep-set eyes stared at her from under the brim of the hat. His face was slender, accented by a long thin nose that reminded her of a bird --- a hawk --- yes, definitely a hawk.

  Then she noticed that he was wearing gloves. Still a bit warm out for gloves, she thought.

  "I'm sorry, sir. We were just closing. Dr. Mitchell won't be seeing any more patients today, but I think we can work you in tomorrow."

  The hawk-faced man reached inside his jacket and pulled an automatic pistol with a silencer attached.

  "Oh, I think Dr. Mitchell will fit me in today. What do you think?"

  Violet stared at the gun in disbelief. She was about to cry out when the man held his finger to his lips.

  "Let's not make a scene. There's no need to involve anyone else. Now why don't you lock the door and let's visit the good doctor?"

  Doctor Martin Mitchell had just hit the 'send' and 'delete' buttons on his laptop when Violet opened the door into his office.

  He smiled as his long time nurse and receptionist stepped into the room.

  His smile quickly faded when he saw the look of terror in her eyes.

  "Violet --- what's wrong? You look scared to death."

  The hawk-faced man stepped in behind her. "Actually, Doctor, Violet is a bit upset about my insistence on this late afternoon visit."

  "Well, it is late and we close ----." Then he saw the gun. "Look, sir. We don't stock any drugs here and we only keep a small amount of petty cash. You're welcome to it and anything else you want to take. Just, please --- don't hurt anyone."

  A condescending smile curled on the man's lips. "Oh I'm not here for drugs or cash and my intent is certainly not to hurt anyone. You have something I want and if you cooperate, I'll just take it and be on my way."

  "What could I possibly have that is so important to you?"

  The man motioned for Violet to take a seat in the chair across the desk from the doctor. "Don't play coy with me, Dr. Mitchell. You know very well what I want. You have been conducting a clinical test for the past two years and you are about to publish your findings in the Journal of the American Medical Association. I want that study --- all of it."

  Dr. Mitchell couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Who sent you? Who do you work for?”

  Then it dawned on him. "The drug company sent you, didn't they? A colleague warned me that they would be upset. But to send a thug with a gun --"

  "Thug? Really, Doctor. There's no need for name-calling. Now if you'll just hand over that study we'll be finished here and I'll be on my way."

  "I'll do no such thing. You can just go back to those greedy, money hungry bastards in their corporate ivory towers and tell them to kiss my ass!"

  "I'm so sorry, Doctor. I had hoped it wouldn't come to this."

  Without another word, he turned and leveled the pistol at Violet's forehead and pulled the trigger.

  Dr. Mitchell recoiled at the quiet 'pop' from the gun and the dying gasp that slipped fro
m Violet's parted lips.

  He watched in horror as blood poured from the dime-sized hole and his old friend slumped forward onto the floor.

  The man turned the pistol back to the doctor. "Now that we understand each other, let's try this again. The clinical test --- get it for me NOW!"

  The horror on the doctor's face turned into a look of quiet resignation. "I --- I'm sorry. I just can't give it to you."

  "Oh really? And why is that?"

  "Because it's not here. A colleague persuaded me to keep the study results at another location. He must have suspected something like this would happen."

  Frustration and anger filled the man's eyes. "Doctor, I'm rapidly losing my patience."

  He moved behind the desk and pushed the chair away. "If it's not here, exactly where is it?"

  Mitchell knew that if he revealed where the study was being held another of his friends would be in danger and he sensed that even if he were forthcoming with the information, he would not leave the office alive.

  "I --- I don't know," he lied.

  "Maybe this will help your memory," the man said.

  He pointed the gun at the doctor's kneecap and fired.

  Mitchell grimaced in pain and grabbed his bloody leg.

  "Now where is that study? Or should we try for another one?"

  With every ounce of strength he could muster, the doctor sat straight in his chair and looked the man in the eye. "I'll tell you nothing, you son-of-a bitch. You can go to hell!"

  The man could see the conviction in the doctor's eyes and realized it was time to move on.

  "Yes, I probably will," he replied. "Maybe I'll see you there."

  One more quiet 'pop' filled the office and Dr. Mitchell slumped to the floor.

  The man surveyed the office. Even if the clinical study was not here, he had to look and he also had to make it appear that some hoodlum had committed the murders looking for drugs.

  Methodically, he opened every drawer and cabinet scattering the contents on the blood soaked carpet.

  Finally, satisfied that the study was not there, he grabbed the doctor's laptop and took a final look at the carnage.

  Quietly, the hawk-faced man slipped out the door and disappeared into the night.

  CHAPTER 1

  Crime in a large metropolitan area like Kansas City never actually stops, but it does ebb and flow like the ocean tides.

  Thankfully, since the Avenging Angels were put out of commission, we had been experiencing a welcome lull in crimes of a more heinous nature.

  Our days had been filled with the usual domestic disturbances, traffic stops and drug busts, but all that was about to change.

  My name is Walter Williams and I'm a cop. Actually, I'm a sixty-eight year old cop and still technically a rookie.

  I realize that might sound strange, but I started my career in law enforcement at the ripe old age of sixty-five.

  In my three years on the force, due to some combination of stubbornness, blind luck, assistance from a Higher Power and a tiny lizard, my partner, Ox, and I have become the stuff of legends.

  In fact, our arrest record is such that we have been dubbed 'The Dynamic Duo.'

  The original dynamic duo was, of course, Batman and Robin. Another crime fighting duo that comes to mind is Sergeant Joe Friday and his partner, Officer Frank Smith of the famous Dragnet series. There are many more, but you get the picture.

  On this particular day however, Ox and I looked like anything but the 'Dynamic Duo.'

  We had been cruising midtown for an hour when I heard a distinct rumble. It had emanated from the depths of my partner's two hundred and twenty pound torso.

  This, of course, was our cue to pull into the lot of the nearest Krispy Kreme.

  Ox had purchased one of those chocolate covered long johns filled with creamy pudding. He had attacked the pastry with such enthusiasm that a big blob of pudding squirted out of the long john's rear end and was leaving a slimy trail down the front of his freshly washed uniform shirt.

  Seeing my robust partner cussing and trying to balance his dripping pastry in one hand and wiping the errant blob with the other sent me into a laughing fit, which caused me to spill my hot coffee down the front of my pants.

  It was at that moment that the call came from dispatch. "Car 54. What’s your 20?"

  We looked at each other.

  Ox's hands were dripping pudding and mine were wet with coffee.

  I grabbed the mike realizing that it would be easier to clean off the coffee than the pudding.

  "Car 54. We're at 34th and Broadway."

  "Proceed to the Westport Free Clinic in the 800 block of Westport Road. There's been a homicide and you're needed for crowd control."

  "Car 54 en route."

  I turned to Ox who was wiping the last remnants of the pudding from his shirt.

  "Well, partner, it couldn't last forever."

  We pulled up in front of the clinic and were met by Officer Dooley.

  He took a look at Ox and quipped, "Did you hit the back of a garbage truck on the way over?"

  Then he spotted the wet stain on my crotch. "What's the deal, old man? Did you run out of Depends?"

  So much for the stuff of legends.

  By this time Ox was running short on patience. "Cut the crap, Dooley. What have we got here?"

  "Looks like a double homicide. The first patient of the day found the door open and the bodies of Dr. Martin Mitchell and his nurse, Violet Jenkins. They had both been shot. Looks like the place was ransacked. Some crack head probably looking for drugs."

  A crowd had started to gather.

  Ox grabbed the crime scene tape and started barking orders. "OK, let's get the scene secured. Move those people back away from the clinic. No one goes in or out."

  More sirens came blaring around the corner. The Medical Examiner's van and an unmarked car arrived at the same time.

  Detective Derek Blaylock stepped out of the sedan. He gave us a nod as he headed for the clinic entrance.

  I heard him mutter as he passed. "It's gonna be a long day."

  It was indeed a long day. It was after six before the CSI guys released the crime scene and almost seven by the time I pulled up in front of my three-story building on Armour Boulevard.

  I had called Maggie to let her know that I would be late.

  Maggie is my wife. Actually, we are still kind of newly weds. We've been married five months now.

  It's been quite a transition for both of us. Neither of us had been married before so naturally, two old geezers, both set in their ways, had some serious adjusting to do.

  I had remodeled the entire third floor of my building into a two bedroom, two-bath apartment with an office.

  The second bathroom turned out to be a godsend. I'm not sure our marriage would have survived without it.

  We discovered, after moving in, that Mother Nature seemed to call us both at the same time, so I often found myself sitting on throne #2.

  I like long hot showers. It turns out that long hot showers fog the vanity mirror preventing Maggie from applying the various pastes and creams that women use. I now shower in bath #2.

  I had a walk-in closet built in our new master bedroom. Maggie is a career girl and still very active in real estate. On moving day, her wardrobe filled every nook and cranny of the new closet. My stuff is in bedroom #2.

  I can live with all of that knowing that when it's time to turn the lights out, we will both be tucked in together in bedroom #1.

  But even that little bit of heaven required some adjustment.

  After a lifetime of sleeping alone, it was quite different to wake up in the middle of the night and hear the deep rhythmic breathing of the person next to you.

  I discovered early on that Maggie snores. Not a nasty obnoxious snore, but kind of cute little snorts.

  When I lay there listening to her, it gives me a warm comforting feeling knowing my sweetie is there beside me.

  One morning I mentioned the sno
ring thing.

  "Maggie, did you know that you snore in your sleep?"

  "Oh really?" she replied. "Did you know that you fart?"

  I could only hope that if she's lying there awake listening to me pass gas, it gives her the same warm feeling.

  Another area of adjustment was centered on my potty training.

  Aim, for a guy, has always been a 'hit and miss' situation, so to speak. Normally, I'm a pretty fair marksman, but occasionally, particularly in the dead of night, I will aim Mr. Winky in one direction and he will shoot thirty degrees to the port or starboard. I've never quite figured out why. It's just one of those great mysteries of nature.

  If Maggie happens to follow to soon after one of these misfires, I'll hear a "Eeeeewwwww! My foot!"

  Then there's the lid thing.

  When a guy has lived his entire adult life by himself, there's absolutely no reason to put the lid down. If you think about how many times you pee in a day and multiply that by your age, just think of how much time and energy you've saved by not putting the lid up and down every time.

  But being a sensitive husband, I've tried my darndest to keep it down.

  Daytime; no problem. Night time; that's another story.

  It all depends on my level of consciousness. Fully awake; definitely down. Half awake; probably down. Barely awake; anybody's guess.

  If I happen to hear Maggie slip out of bed and head for the potty, I lay there wondering, Did I or didn't I?

  Most of the time, I did, but occasionally, a blood-curdling scream will emanate from the loo, "WAAAAAAALT!"

  OK, so I'm not perfect, but I'm trying.

  Let's just call it a work in progress.

  The biggest adjustment, however, came one night after an evening of popcorn and movies on HBO.