Lady Justice and the Mysterious Box Page 2
After saving the damsel he found in distress,
They found a motel and promptly undressed.
As one might expect from a one night of lovin’
Young John took off leaving a bun in the oven.
Again, years later, John was informed,
That he’d fathered a daughter that night in the storm.
That daughter turned out to be Dr. Elizabeth Crane. She had recently found out that the man her mother had married was not her biological father and had come to my door hoping to meet the man who had spent one stormy night with her mother and left her pregnant.
This was a real break for me. I had just learned I had a heart condition and, as luck would have it, Dr. Crane and her husband were both cardiologists at the Mid America Heart Institute. They performed a successful operation to repair a leaky mitral valve and here I am, as fit as a fiddle.
Unfortunately, every time I hear an unexpected knock on the door, I wonder if it might be another half-sibling, the fruit of my father’s loins.
Jerry pushed on.
Walt hadn’t heard from his father in years,
Which was okay with him. He had shed no tears.
Then one fine day from out of the blue,
Old John called Walt asking ‘What should I do?’
The place he was staying was kicking him out,
Saying old John was a lascivious lout.
Though Walt was incensed, he gave John a home.
The old guy settled in and no more would roam.
It worked out quite well for Walt and his dad.
The found a great bond they’d never had.
I remember well the day the retirement home called, saying Dad was being booted. They said his behavior was detrimental to the reputation of the institution. Apparently he had bedded most of the ambulatory females and had formed a club he called the ‘Viagra Poppers’ to encourage the other male residents to do the same.
My first inclination was to tell the old goat to get lost, but Maggie persuaded me to take the old guy in. That turned out to be the best advice I’d ever been given. Since his arrival, I finally found the dad I always wanted, but never had. And thankfully, in several difficult cases, it was Dad who pulled my fat out the fire.
Jerry continued.
Though John settled down, he still was quite randy.
He found a new love which was really quite dandy.
Now he and Bernice are living in bliss.
Sharing their love with a hug and a kiss.
I’m thankful Dad found someone. He and Bernice personify the old saying, ‘There may be snow on the roof but there’s fire in the furnace.’ I just hope Maggie and I have as much passion when we’re their age.
Finally, Jerry concluded.
The moral of this little ditty,
Is that old John doesn’t need our pity.
Though Father Time is marching on,
Our dear old John is far from gone!
“Happy birthday, John!”
Everyone stood and cheered as Dad took a bow.
I suppose the party wasn’t so bad after all.
We were in the process of wrapping things up when there was a knock on the door. I was the closest so I answered it.
I was surprised to see two men in dark suits. Both held up badges, and one of them said, “We’re agents Stokes and Steele, Homeland Security. We’re looking for Bernice Crenshaw.”
That certainly took me by surprise. “What does Homeland Security want with Bernice?”
He gave me a condescending look. “Is she here or not?”
“I’m Bernice,” she said meekly from across the room.
“Great! We have to speak to you. May we come in?”
The guy didn’t wait for an answer. He and his partner pushed past me.
He approached Bernice. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”
Dad stepped between them. “Nobody’s going anywhere. Anything you have to say, you can say in front of us all.” He pointed to Ox and Judy. “These two are Kansas City Police officers.” Then he pointed to Kevin and me. “These two are private investigators. Now what’s so all-fired important for the suits in Washington to send you boys out here in the sticks?”
Stokes shrugged. “Have it your way. Ms. Crenshaw, we’re looking for Oliver McDermont.”
I’d never heard of the guy, but from the startled look on her face, Bernice certainly did.
“Ollie?” she muttered. “I haven’t thought about him in years.”
“Who’s Ollie?” Dad asked, obviously as curious as the rest of us.
“He’s --- he’s my brother. My younger brother.”
She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. “Ollie was one of those surprise babies. He came along when my parents were in their forties. I was already gone from the house when he was born. We never were close. Ollie was always in some kind of trouble. He left home when he turned eighteen. We connected a few times over the years, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him in probably twenty years.”
“I’m a bit confused,” I said, butting in. “Why are you looking for this McDermont character, and what does Bernice have to do with all this?”
“We have McDermont’s DNA. We ran it through a DNA database looking for relatives and found Ms. Crenshaw.”
“But how ---?” Then it struck me. Ancestry.com. A few years ago, the King Tut exhibit came to Kansas City. Our whole gang toured the exhibit. Bernice was so enthralled with it all, she sent a vial of spit to Ancestry.com to see if she had any Egyptian blood. She didn’t, but that didn’t discourage her from wearing the Queen Nefertiti earrings Dad bought for her at the exhibit. One day I stepped into the hall just in time to see her scooting from her apartment to Dad’s wearing nothing but those earrings and a thong. It was one of those things you try to unsee but just can’t.
“Okay,” I said, “you found Bernice through Ancestry.com. Back to my original question. Why are you looking for this guy and why here?”
He gave me a snarky look. “Why we’re looking for him is none of your concern. As for the second part of your question, the last we saw of McDermont, he was heading east. He’s on the run. We thought he might be coming here to hide out with family.”
“Well, he’s not!” Dad replied, belligerently.
Stokes took a step closer to Bernice. “Is that true? You haven’t heard from him?”
Bernice shrunk back. “No --- not a word.”
He handed Bernice his card. “If you hear from him, give me a call. I’d hate to have to haul you in for harboring a fugitive. Understand?”
Bernice gave a little shudder and nodded.
“Good!” He looked around the room. “That goes for the rest of you, too!” Then he turned to his partner. “Let’s get out of this dump.”
Without another word, they turned and walked out the door.
“Those boys could take some lessons in manners from Officer Friendly,” Kevin quipped.
Dad turned to Bernice. “See! I told you not to send your spit to those people. Look what that got us!”
“Well, she’s certainly not alone,” the Professor said. “Ancestry.com is the world’s largest DNA testing conglomerate. Since 2012, they have lured over 5 million people into their database.”
“I don’t get it,” Kevin said, shaking his head. “Why would someone willingly give away their most sensitive individual identifier? It’s like giving a total stranger your Social Security number. It’s pretty obvious from our recent visit that law enforcement is getting access to all this information.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Ox affirmed. “We had a briefing about this at our squad meeting a while back. There was a guy in California called the ‘Golden State Killer.’ He killed twelve people and raped forty-five women across California between 1976 and 1986. They had the guy’s DNA but he wasn’t in the FBI’s national DNA database.
“They finally tracked the guy down through his family tree. One of his relatives had submitted their DNA to G
EDmatch. This distant relative instantly shrunk the pool of suspects from millions to a single family. Then, using traditional investigative techniques, like the two bozos who just left, they arrested Joseph DeAngelo, a former police officer who lived within a few miles of many of the attacks. This DNA stuff is definitely on the cutting edge in law enforcement.”
“Back to the matter at hand,” Kevin said, turning to Bernice. “Is there any chance this long-lost relative might turn up on our doorstep?”
“I doubt he even knows I still exist,” she replied. “For all he knows, I’m dead and buried. Not that many people live into their mid-nineties.”
“You’re probably right,” Kevin said, “but don’t open your door to strangers.”
With that piece of advice, our little party disbanded.
Back in my apartment, I couldn’t stop thinking about the visit from the two agents. Since they claimed to be from Homeland Security, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to give Mark Davenport, my half-brother, a call.
He picked up on the second ring. “Davenport. How may I help you?”
“Hi, Mark. Walt here. How’s everything in Washington?”
“Are you kidding me? With this new administration, it’s a friggin’ zoo. What can I do for you?”
“We just had a visit from two men claiming to be from your agency. They said they were looking for some guy named Oliver McDermont. Apparently Bernice is his older sister. They tracked her down through a DNA match. Do you know anything about this?”
A long pause. “I might.”
“Well, what gives? Why are they looking for this guy?”
“Sorry, I can’t tell you that. All I can say is that it’s a matter of National Security.”
“Seriously? You’re telling me that Bernice’s little brother is a terrorist?”
“I never said he was a terrorist.”
“Then why are you guys hot on his trail?”
“He has something he’s not supposed to have and we need to get it back.”
“And just what might that be?”
“I can’t tell you that either. It’s classified. Do you think it’s possible that McDermont might show up there?”
“Bernice doesn’t think so. She hasn’t heard from him in twenty years. What do you know about the guy?”
“He’s a con man. Pretty slick from what I’ve heard. He’s been involved in corporate espionage, selling secrets, that kind of thing. He has the reputation of being a procurer. If somebody wants something they’re not supposed to have, they give Ollie a call.”
“Whatever he has must be important. And by the way, the two goons you sent, Stokes and Steele, could use some manners. They were quite rude.”
“Those weren’t my guys. They were from a different department. Garret Scarborough sent them. Just a word of caution --- don’t get on their bad side. They’re ruthless. That’s why they were assigned to this case.”
“Wonderful!”
“Take care, Walt, and stay out of this. It’s for your own good.”
And with that dire warning, he was gone.
Dad’s birthday had suddenly taken a sinister turn.
CHAPTER 3
Jiao Chen and Fan Li were on I-70, several car-lengths behind the old Ford.
“Do you think we’re ahead of the Homeland Security agents?” Jiao asked.
“I believe we are,” Fan replied. “According to our sources, the agents boarded a flight to Kansas City. They believe McDermont may be heading there to connect with some relative who can find him a safe place to hide.”
“I hope that’s true. I believe McDermont will spend the night in Denver before continuing his journey. If he does, we’ll take him there. The Americans will never know we have the box.”
Fan smiled. “If we are successful, our government will be very pleased. They will reward us well. We must not fail.”
Oliver McDermont had gone through Las Vegas, then headed north on I-15 to I-70. His eyes were drooping and he had swerved to the side of the road several times. He hoped he could make it to Denver. He would spend the night there before continuing on to Kansas City.
He was confident he had eluded the two men in the SUV. If they knew where he was they would have taken him long ago.
On the outskirts of Denver, he spotted a sputtering neon sign. Beauty Rest Motel – Hourly rates.
He was accustomed to accommodations a bit more elegant, but this was just what he was looking for. He needed a place where he could pay cash and where the proprietor didn’t ask too many questions.
He pulled into the parking lot and headed to the office where he found a slovenly, unshaven man behind a desk reading a girly magazine.
“Yeah?” he mumbled, barely looking up.
“I need a room for the night.”
“Well, this is a motel. Looks like you’re in luck. Thirty-nine bucks.”
“By any chance do you have two adjoining rooms?”
“Why? You plannin’ a party? I don’t cotton to rowdies.”
“No, nothing like that. I have a business partner who may be coming later,” he lied.
“Yeah, right. #29 and #30. That’ll be a hundred bucks.”
“I thought you said each room was thirty-nine dollars.”
“That’s for our regular rooms. Those are our deluxe suites.”
“Fine, I’ll take them.”
Oliver paid the man and registered with a fictitious name.
“Be out by ten in the morning,” the man said as Oliver walked out the door. “That’s when the maid comes.”
Oliver opened the door to #29. He shook his head. If this was the deluxe suite, he was glad he hadn’t rented a regular room.
He stowed his bag containing the box under the bed and checked out #30 through the adjoining door.
He had learned from past experience, when on the run, not to get boxed in. It was a trick he had learned from a colleague, now deceased, and it had served him well.
Satisfied that everything was in order, he thought about turning in, but suddenly realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
He had noticed a drive-in burger joint on the highway next to the motel. Better grab a bite while I can, he thought.
Before exiting the room, he peeked through the blinds just to make sure nothing was amiss. In his line of work, such precautions were second nature.
His pulse quickened when he saw two men alight from a car parked next to his Ford. He could tell right away that the men were Asian, most likely Chinese or Korean. There was only one reason well-dressed men such as these would be at a seedy motel --- they were after the box and they had found him!
Quickly, he doused the light, grabbed his bag from under the bed, and slipped into the adjoining room. He stood by the door, quietly waiting and listening. He knew one of the men would be circling around the building to watch the back. As soon as he was in place, the one in front would hit the door to #29. As soon as he heard the crash, he would leave #30 and run like hell.
A few moments later, he heard the crash. He quietly slipped out, raced across the parking lot, and disappeared into an alley.
Jiao Chen and Fan Li had watched McDermont check into the motel, then make his way to #29.
“We got him!” Chen said, slapping the steering wheel. “As soon as he gets settled in, you go around back. We don’t want him slipping out a window. As soon as I hear you’re in place, I’ll hit the door.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Fan replied. “I’ll text you when I’m ready.”
Several minutes later, Chen’s phone chirped. Fan was all set.
He took a deep breath, then kicked the door with all his strength. Wood splintered and he stepped inside waving his gun. “It’s over McDermont. Give us the box!”
Hearing nothing, he flipped on the light. The room was empty. He called Fan. “Get in here. Somehow he got away.”
Fan couldn’t believe it. “But we saw him go in!”
Then they spotted the door to the adjoining room.
“He’s clever,” Fan said. “We underestimated him. We won’t do that again.”
CHAPTER 4
Oliver ran until he collapsed, putting as much distance between himself and motel as possible. He found a secluded doorway in an alley and crouched there through the night like as homeless vagrant.
He slept fitfully and was awakened the next morning by the clatter of a trash truck emptying the dumpsters along the alley.
In the harsh light of day, he took stock of his situation. He couldn’t go back to the hotel to get his car. His assailants knew it and had obviously been following him. He could get another car. He had plenty of money, but he would have to be more careful and look for tails in his rear-view mirror. He was now being pursued by agents of two governments.
He looked at the bag and cursed the box inside. He wished he had never set foot in Pete’s Pawn Shop. He’d spent eighty bucks on a mysterious box and his life would never be the same again. He thought about just chucking it in a dumpster, but he knew that wouldn’t solve his problem. He had seen what was inside, and that had sealed his fate.
He climbed out of the doorway, stretched, picked up his bag, and headed down the alley.
In the next few hours he had breakfast at a truck stop diner, hitched a ride into Denver, and purchased 2001 Chevy Impala from a used car lot. By noon, he was back on I-70 heading to Kansas City.
By nightfall, he had made it to Topeka, Kansas. Bone-weary, he found another sleazy motel and spent the night without incident.
It was just a few hours until he reached Kansas City. His goal was to connect with his older sister. He had done some research and discovered she lived somewhere in midtown. He was hoping to bunk with her while he made contact with the one man who might be able to help him disappear, Carmine Marchetti, the head of the Kansas City mafia. He had done some work for the don who owed him a favor. It was time to collect.