[Lady Justice 12] - Lady Justice and the Class Reunion Read online

  Ox and I dragged ourselves into the squad room just minutes before Captain Short entered the room.

  Of course, the squad wiseacre, Officer Dooley, noted our entrance immediately. “Welcome back, guys. By the way you both look like crap. I know honeymoons can be exhausting, but, I figured guys your age ---.”

  Thankfully, the Captain entered, cutting off any further comments from Mr. Dooley.

  “Good morning, men, and welcome back Walt and Ox. I’d like the two of you to see me after the meeting.”

  Ox and I both slumped in our seats. Every other time the Captain had requested a private audience, we had been ‘volunteered’ for some special assignment --- usually undercover, and usually something no other officer would touch. What he had in store for us this time was anybody’s guess.

  After the squad meeting, we were ushered into the Captain’s office.

  “The timing of your return is perfect. After a restful week away from the squad, I’m sure you’re ready for your next assignment.”

  I thought I heard Ox moan.

  “Well --- uhhh ---- actually, we’re still a little jet-lagged,” I stammered. “Any chance we could start this thing tomorrow?”

  “What! And waste a day? I don’t think so. We need to nip this thing in the bud. Someone’s been ripping off the members of the Beautiful Bodies Health and Fitness Club. They’re breaking into lockers in the men’s dressing room, stealing cash and jewelry, and somehow getting away without a trace.”

  “So you want us to do ---- what, exactly?” Ox ventured.

  The Captain handed each of us a plastic card. “You’ll both be working out at the Health Club --- every day until we catch this guy. We’re assuming that it’s a guy since all of the thefts have come from the men’s locker room. Use the machines, the weights, the treadmill, the pool --- whatever you want. Just keep your eyes open and check on the locker room when you see people coming and going.”

  “Why us?” Ox asked. “Neither of us are exactly a fitness center type of guy. Seems like a couple of the younger fellows --- you know --- the muscle-bound guys that work out regularly would be a better fit.”

  “That’s exactly the point,” the Captain replied. “Those apes would be intimidating. You guys --- not so much. Besides, you’re both all rested from your vacation. Look at it this way. Ox, you could stand to lose a few pounds and Walt, a man your age needs to stay limber to ward off the arthritis. Think of it as an extended vacation. You get all the perks of Club membership and we catch a bad guy in the process. Now off you go.”

  Out in the hall, Ox slumped into a chair. “When the alarm went off this morning and I drug my butt out of bed, I figured I was half dead. If I gotta go work out, it’s gonna finish the job.”

  “Look on the bright side,” I replied. “Maybe they have a hot tub. We could take turns.”

  “Walt, you’re always the optimist. That’s why I like you.”

  “Looks like we’ll both need to go home and pack our gym bags. Shorts, athletic shoes, swimsuit, jock strap --- not exactly my idea of a fun time, but at least I don’t have to dress up as a transvestite on this assignment.”

  That brought a smile to Ox’s face. “Yeah, that’s a picture I’ll never get out of my mind. Good times!”

  “See you at the pool.”

  By the time I returned home, Maggie was up and padding around the apartment in her robe and fuzzy slippers.

  I had stopped by Starbucks again, and having swallowed my second Macho Grande with two squirts of espresso, I was beginning to almost feel human again.

  Maggie was still in a jet-lagged stupor.

  She reminded me of one of my grandmother’s old sayings, “You look like you were drug through a knothole backwards.”

  “What are you doing home this time of day?” she mumbled. “I just got up to pee and I’m heading back to bed.”

  I knew I shouldn’t have done it, but sometimes I just can’t help myself.

  “That’s perfect! I’m on my way to an assignment and I have a little time to spare. How about a quickie?”

  Actually, in her present condition, that was the farthest thing from my mind.

  Her first reaction was bewilderment --- like I had asked her to sprout wings and fly. In an instant, as my request sunk in, the bewilderment turned into resentment. “I can barely walk and you expect me to ----? ”

  Then she saw me smile and the resentment turned into sarcasm. “You jerk! If you’re looking for sex, why don’t you just go ---!”

  “Just kidding! Just kidding!”

  She shook her head in disbelief and collapsed on the couch. “So what are you doing home?”

  I told her about our fitness club stakeout.

  That brought a smile to her face. “My Walt? Lifting weights? Running laps? This will probably be your most dangerous assignment yet. You’ll probably drop something on your foot. Actually, with your little joke, you’ll fit right in with the other dumbbells.”

  I could see that I wasn’t going to get a lot of sympathy from my sweetie. That ship had sailed.

  I packed my stuff in my gym bag, tucked Maggie in bed and headed out the door.

  I live on the top floor of my three-story apartment building. There are four other one-bedroom apartments occupied by my Dad, Bernice, his current squeeze, the Professor and Jerry. My old friend and maintenance man, Willie, lives in an efficiency apartment in the basement.

  I had hoped to escape without encountering any of my tenants, especially Jerry. He’s really a sweet guy, but he fancies himself as a stand-up comic --- so much, in fact, that we have dubbed him, ‘Jerry the Joker’.

  He is a regular on amateur night at the local comedy club and is constantly testing new material on his poor neighbors.

  As luck would have it, Jerry was sitting on the front porch. He spotted my gym bag right away.

  “Looks like you’re either working out or running away from home.”

  I really didn’t want to get into the whole undercover thing, so I confirmed that I was heading to the fitness center.

  I could see him mentally sorting through all of the funny stuff he had stored in his brain.

  “Did you hear about the chubby lady that had to give up jogging? Her thighs kept rubbing together and set her pantyhose on fire!”

  “Well, I don’t wear pantyhose, so that’s one thing I won’t have to worry about today.”

  Actually, I did wear pantyhose once when I was undercover as the transvestite, but I wasn’t about to share that tidbit of information with Jerry.

  “I need to hurry. I’m supposed to meet Ox.”

  “Just one more ---- please!”

  “Okay, but make it fast!”

  “A blonde is terribly overweight, so her doctor puts her on a diet. ‘I want you to eat regularly for two days, then skip a day, and repeat this procedure for two weeks. The next time I see you, you’ll have lost at least five pounds.

  When the blonde returns, she's lost nearly 20 pounds. ‘Why, that's amazing!’ the doctor says. ‘Did you follow my instructions?’

  The blonde nods. ‘Absolutely! But I’ll tell you, I thought I was going to drop dead that third day.’

  ‘From hunger, you mean?’ asked the doctor

  ‘No, from skipping.’”

  I could tell that he was about to launch into another one when Willie walked onto the porch.

  “Oh, hi Willie. Jerry was just about to share a joke. Tell him, Jerry.”

  I hated to do that to my old friend, but a man has to do what a man has to do.

  As Jerry forged ahead, I heard Willie mutter, “I get you for dis, Mr. Walt!”

  Ox and I pulled into the parking lot at the same time.

  We grabbed our gym bags and headed to the reception desk.

  A cute young thing greeted us. “May I have your cards, please?”

  We fished around in our pockets for the plastic membership cards that the Captain had given us.

  She swiped the cards and handed them back. �
��Have a good workout,” she said cheerily.

  “Good workout, my ass!” he muttered.

  I could see that Ox hadn’t quite recovered from our ordeal. I figured his two hundred and thirty pound body took more time to adjust than my one hundred and fifty pounds.

  We followed the arrows around the indoor track to the men’s locker room.

  “You know,” Ox said, “I was wondering on the way over here why they just didn’t put up surveillance cameras. If that didn’t stop the guy, they would at least have him on film.”

  We arrived at the door and I pointed to a sign displayed prominently with big letters.

  “NO CAMERAS OF PHOTOGRAPHY EQUIPMENT OF ANY KIND ALLOWED IN THE LOCKER ROOMS. ANY VIOLATIONS SHOULD BE REPORTED TO MANAGEMENT IMMEDIATELY.”

  “That’s why. I guess the members have an expectation of privacy and the thief takes advantage of it.”

  As soon as we entered the locker room, I discovered another reason why there should NEVER be cameras there.

  A half dozen guys were parading around in various stages of undress. Everywhere you looked there were buns flapping and weenies wiggling. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

  “Not the best place to be if you have modesty issues,” I said.

  Ox pushed me along. “Let’s get dressed and get out of here. I saw that hot tub you mentioned. Mind if I take the first dip?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Ox donned his swimsuit, I put on my T-shirt and gym shorts and we were off to our new assignment.

  As I looked around the workout area, there seemed to be three distinct classes of people.

  The smallest group consisted of the hot bodies that had obviously been sculpting their physiques for many years. They were entirely focused on their tasks and I noted that some of the guys were lifting weights bigger than me.

  The second group was the folks whose bodies had probably been sculpted by Ronald McDonald. They ranged from the overly plump to the morbidly obese. Their use of the various machines seemed to be geared more toward sitting than working out. Most of them had a blank stare on their face and you could almost hear them whispering, “Why am I doing this?”

  The third and largest group was the seniors. They ranged in age from the fifties to the eighties. I figured I fell somewhere in the middle. Most of them were either on the treadmills or one of the rowing machines, trying to get the old joints loose and limber.

  I watched one woman who had to be in her late eighties peddling one of the rowing machines in sloooow motion. It brought to mind something I had read, “It is well documented that for every mile that you jog, you add one minute to your life. This enables you, at age 85, to spend an additional 5 months in a nursing home at $5,000 per month.”

  Something to look forward to.

  I noticed that most of the folks were carrying around paper towels that they had saturated with some pink stuff that was in spray bottles at several locations. They dutifully wiped the equipment before using it and again after they had finished.

  I was wondering about the significance of this little ritual when I spotted a young kid about to work out with the curl bar.

  He reached for the bar, hesitated, covered his nose and mouth with his hands and sneezed, then picked up the bar and started curling.

  It immediately brought to mind a little ritual that Maggie and I have when we go grocery shopping. We always wipe the cart handle with one of those disinfectant wipes. I have a little ditty that I recite that helps me remember to do it. I figured that I should probably adapt my ditty to the gym.

  I boogied in the parking lot

  I boogied in my car

  I boogied on my finger

  And I wiped it on the bar.

  It occurred to me that if I was a terrorist and I wanted to spread a deadly contagion, a health club might be a dandy place to start.

  I made a mental note to share my ditty with Ox.

  I hefted a few of the smaller dumbbells and smiled as I remembered Maggie’s comparison.

  I watched as men entered and left the locker room. It seemed that most of the time there were at least three or four guys in there. That obviously wouldn’t be the best time for the thief to do his dirty work.

  Almost everyone had placed a lock of some description on their locker. The general conception is that a padlock keeps your stuff safe. That’s the farthest thing from the truth. In my landlord days, I learned that a good bolt cutter would snap through a lock shackle in seconds. That was what the thief was doing, but he obviously couldn’t do it with other guys standing around. He had to pick the moment when the place was empty.

  I had also noticed that many of the gym bags were as big as a small suitcase and could easily conceal a bolt cutter.

  I wondered about the Club instituting a rule that all bags had to be searched when entering and leaving, but I could see that the logistics would be horrible and we would probably run afoul of unlawful search issues.

  Plus, who would want the job of shuffling through a gym bag full of sweaty jock straps?

  Any time I thought that the locker room might be nearly empty, I took a look, but so far, everything was on the up and up.

  A big, barrel-chested guy sat down on a bench and picked up two huge weights. Something on the other side of the room caught my attention and I looked away.

  A few seconds later, I heard, “Arrrrrgh ---- Arrrrrrgh ----- Arrrrgh!”

  It sounded like some huge beast was coughing up a hairball. It was the barrel-chested guy. At that moment one of the Club employees walked by.

  I grabbed his arm. “Is that guy all right?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, that’s just Ron. He’s our drama queen. I guess he thinks all that groaning impresses people. You’ll get used to it.”

  About that time, Ox walked up. He was all pink and wrinkly from stewing himself in the hot tub.

  “If you were a lobster, I’d say that you’re ready for the table.”

  “Very funny. Anything going on?”

  “Arrrrrgh ---- Arrrrrgh ----- Arrrrgh!”

  Ox nearly jumped out of his skin. “What the hell?”

  “Just another day at the gym.”

  “So, do you want your turn in the hot tub?”

  I looked at his shriveled fingers. “No thanks. I’ll pass.”

  “I’ll get changed and see you back here in a few minutes.”

  I had seen a guy go into the locker room with a kid that looked to be about three years old. They came out and the little tyke was carrying a Spiderman gym bag almost as big as he was.

  I saw him wave to a woman on the other side of the Club and heard his dad say, “Run over to Mommy while I work out.”

  We both watched as the kid skipped across the floor. The two disappeared into the women’s locker room.

  “Cute kid,” I remarked.

  “Yeah, he is, but he’s a handful.”

  Not ever having kids of my own, I wondered how much longer the boy would be wandering around the women’s locker room before he started noticing that there was a difference.

  About that time, Ox returned.

  He was about to reluctantly pick up a dumbbell when Ron, the drama queen, tapped him on the arm.

  “Say, I wonder if you could help me out. All of the benches with the footholds are taken and I need to do some setups. Would you mind holding my feet down?”

  Ox saw the request as the perfect excuse to not have to pick up the dumbbell.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  The big fellow laid on his back on the bench, spread his legs slightly apart and gave Ox the ‘thumbs up’.

  Ox crouched between Ron’s legs and placed his hands over his ankles.

  I could see the big man struggle as he tightened his stomach muscles and attempted to raise his massive torso.

  I heard the rumble from several feet away. It was just the precursor to the eruption that followed soon after.

  Ox had seen it coming too. His eyes grew wide as he realized that he was in the direct line
of fire.

  The resulting emission was of such magnitude that heads turned halfway across the gym.

  Ox slumped to the floor and I heard him mutter, “Good Lord!”

  “Sorry about that, man. Must have been the burrito I had for lunch.”

  Ox struggled to his feet, eyes watering, and staggered in my direction.

  “Hey! What about my ankles?”

  I peered around Ox. “I think my friend is more concerned with your ass than your ankles right now.”

  “Fine!”

  “When Ox could finally take a deep breath, he wheezed, “What time is it? I gotta get out of here!”

  I had just looked at the clock on the wall, when an old gentleman came tearing out of the locker room.

  “My wallet’s gone! I’ve been robbed!”

  I had been watching and waiting all afternoon and the perp had struck right under our noses.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Okay, Paddy,” Frank said as the three friends huddled in Ernie’s apartment at Whispering Hills, “now that we’re away from prying ears, what’s the scoop on this drug thing?”

  Patrick O’Brian looked sternly at his two companions. “I’ll tell you what I can without breaking the confessional seal, but you must promise two things.”

  “Sure! Sure!” Frank replied impatiently. “Anything. Just get on with it.”

  “First, what I tell you today must remain absolutely confidential. You can’t breathe a word to anyone. If someone discovered that I was sharing confessional information --- well--- it could stir up all kinds of problems.”

  “That’s not a problem,” Ernie replied. “What else?”

  “Don’t press me for more than I can give.” He looked directly at Frank. “You can be a bit pushy at times, my friend. If I tell you something is off limits, back off!”

  Frank raised his hands in a mock defensive posture. “I read you loud and clear, Padre. You’re the boss.”

  “Good! Then here’s what I know. A young woman came to me and asked for a confessional and ---.”

  “So your stoolie was a dame?” Frank said, surprised.

  Paddy gave his friend a disgusted look. “Now there’s a third condition --- no interruptions!”