[Lady Justice 40] - Lady Justice and the Landlords' Nightmare Page 2

  “Sounds like he’s our guy. Anything else?”

  “The last information we have on him is that he works at a muffler shop on Troost. I’ll text you the address.”

  “Thanks. This helps a lot.”

  “Don’t forget to call me when you’re ready to take him down.”

  I shared the information with Kevin and we headed to the muffler shop on Troost.

  “How do you want to play this?” I asked as we pulled up in front of the shop.

  “I’ll pretend we’re getting an estimate for a muffler job. While I keep the boss busy, you nose around and see if you can spot our guy.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  When we entered the shop, the guy behind the desk looked up. “What can I do for you fellas?”

  Kevin, the King of Bullshit, jumped right in. “My name is Ralph Kramden. I ran over some crap on the road and poked a hole in my muffler. I’m getting some estimates.”

  “Is that your ride out front?” the guy asked.

  Kevin nodded.

  “What year is it?”

  “2018.”

  The guy punched some keys on his computer. “Hang on a minute. I’ll look it up.”

  As soon as the guy was occupied, I moseyed to the door that led to the repair shop. The sign on the door said, “No customers beyond this point.” I pretended like I didn’t see it.

  There were three lifts, all with cars being repaired. I heard a guy cussing at the far lift and was heading that way to take a look when I heard a voice behind me.

  “Hey, Buddy. Didn’t you see the sign on the door?”

  I turned and was face-to-face with our animal abuser.

  “Uhhh --- no, I guess I didn’t. What did it say?”

  “It said, ‘No customers in the shop.’”

  “Oh, sorry. I’m just fascinated with tools and stuff.” I felt like an idiot, but it was all I could come up with at the moment.

  “You’d best get back to the office. If the boss catches you, he’ll be pissed.”

  “Wouldn’t want that,” I replied, and headed back to the office.

  I got back just in time to hear the man say, “The muffler for that model is $250.00. Another hundred for labor. $350 all together.”

  Kevin shook his head. “Thanks, but Midas said they’d do it for $300.”

  As we were walking out the door, the man shouted. “Okay then. I’ll do it for $300.”

  “Too late,” Kevin replied with a wave. “You snooze, you lose.”

  “Did you spot our guy?” Kevin asked when we were back in the car.

  “Unfortunately, yes. He caught me snooping and we had a face-to-face confrontation.”

  “Well, so much for anonymity. At least now that we know he’s working we don’t have to keep an eye on him during the day. I say we go home, take a nap, then see where he goes after work.”

  “A nap sounds perfect.”

  When I woke up from my snooze, it was almost three o’clock. I knew Maggie would be coming home around four. I had just enough time to get my signature dish, tuna casserole, in the oven and have it piping hot when she arrived.

  Old people eat early. It’s expected of us, but four in the afternoon was an hour earlier than we normally eat. Since Kevin and I would be spending the evening tailing Earl Biggs, I figured it would be best to get our evening meal out of the way.

  Maggie arrived right at four o’clock as expected. The minute she walked in the door, she stopped and sniffed. “Hmmmm! Tuna casserole. Okay Walt. Spill it! What have you done this time, or what is it you’re about to do?”

  Unfortunately, more than once I have prefaced a confession of some sort with my tuna casserole. Most of the time, my confession involves one of our ill-advised escapades. Also, unfortunately, our track record doesn’t bolster our credibility. Maggie knows this all too well.

  “Hi, Sweetie. Are you ready for some tuna delight?”

  She looked at her watch. “At four o’clock? What are you and my brother up to now?”

  During our meal, I told her about the atrocities that were being committed on poor defenseless cats and showed her the photos of the painted kittens I had taken with my cell phone.

  In the few short weeks that Clarence the Cat had been with us, Maggie had fallen in love with the furry feline. It nearly broke her heart when Clarence departed to his new home. I figured the photos of the poor helpless kittens would help me convince her that Kevin and I had a job to do. I was right.

  “Ohhh, Walt! That’s just horrible! How can people be so cruel?”

  “It’s a mystery to me too,” I replied. “Tonight, Kevin and I are going to follow one of the men responsible. We’re hoping he will lead us to the location where they hold these grisly events.”

  “Walt, anyone who would torture such innocent creatures must be dangerous. Please be careful!”

  “Not to worry. All we’re going to do is follow the guy. When we know the location, I’ll give Ox a call. We’ll let the police handle it from there.”

  At that moment, I heard a horn toot. “That’s Kevin. I have to go.”

  She gave me a hug. “Please be careful. You’re more important to me than any cat.”

  I had a good feeling knowing that I ranked above Clarence the Cat.

  We parked on Garfield, a block from Earl Biggs’ house. At five-thirty, he pulled into the driveway.

  “Let’s hope this is a fight night,” Kevin said. “I don’t like leaving Veronica home alone at night.”

  At that moment, Earl came out of the house with a pet carrier in each hand.

  “Looks like we lucked out,” Kevin said, smiling.

  As we pulled into the street behind Earl’s car, I dialed Ox.

  “Looks like our guy is headed to a cat execution. Kevin and I will tail him and let you know the location.”

  “Great,” he replied. “I told the captain and it turns out he’s a cat lover. He said he’d supply all the backup we’d need to put these creeps away.”

  “Good to hear. You might also get animal control involved. There’s bound to be some very mean mutts there.”

  “Already done.”

  Earl turned onto Holmes Road and headed south. Past 95th Street, Holmes Road runs through a sparsely populated area, very isolated with few houses. Once out of traffic, we had to hang back to avoid being spotted.

  After he passed 139th Street, Biggs turned onto a gravel road. I dialed Ox.

  “Holmes Road, the first gravel drive past 139th.”

  “We’re on our way.”

  “What now?” Kevin asked. “Think we should wait?”

  I thought for a moment. “We probably should, but I’d like to see what we’re dealing with. It’s dark and we’re both armed.”

  “Say no more,” he said, putting the car in gear.

  He turned off the headlights and we inched up the gravel drive. We rounded a curve and, in the distance, saw what was left of an old barn. I heard the growl of a generator that was lighting up a dilapidated cattle corral.

  Kevin pulled off the road. “Better go on foot from here.”

  Quietly, we exited the car and crept toward the old barn. As we got closer, I could hear the gruff laughter and obscenities of the men waiting to bet on the fate of the poor cats.

  We reached the back of the barn and I had just stepped around the corner to get a better view when I heard a hideous growl. To my horror, a huge beast, mouth open and teeth bared, was charging directly at me.

  “Holy crap!” I muttered. I just stood there, frozen. I wanted to run but my feet wouldn’t move.

  The dog’s gaping jaws were about two feet from Mr. Winkie and the boys, when I heard a ‘SNAP.’ When the dog’s head jerked back, I realized my privates had barely been spared. If the chain to which he was tethered had been just a bit longer, I would have been singing soprano --- or worse.

  “Jesus, Walt!” Kevin whispered. “Let’s get out of here!”

  But it was too late.

  Two guys
with guns came running around the corner. “Zeus! What the hell are you barking at?”

  Then he spotted us. “Well, well, what have we here? Good boy, Zeus! You two. Hands in the air!”

  We put our hands in the air and were led into the middle of the corral.

  “Look what we found, boys!”

  I heard a voice and Earl Biggs stepped forward. “Hey, I know that guy. He was at the muffler shop today. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  The guy with the gun poked me in the chest. “Okay, what gives? Are you guys cops?”

  “Uhhh, no,” Kevin interrupted. “We heard stories about what you fellas are doing and, well, we were interested. We’d like to join up with you.”

  He looked us over. “Really? Let’s find out how interested you are. Junior! Bring me that carrier.”

  A burly kid picked up a carrier and brought it to the man. He handed his gun to Junior, opened the carrier, and pulled out a kitten painted red.

  “Okay,” he said, handing the kitten to Kevin. “Wring its neck.”

  Kevin looked at the kitten and I saw a tear run down his cheek.

  “That’s what I thought,” the guy said, snatching the kitten and tossing it back in the carrier. “I’ve got a better idea. Lester, bring me those paint cans.”

  Lester produced two cans of spray paint, one red and one blue. He took the red can and sprayed Kevin from head to toe. Then he sprayed me with the blue.

  “Okay, boys! Place your bets. Whose guts will Zeus rip out first!”

  “Twenty on red!” one guy shouted. “Blue’s too scrawny. Zeus will rip him to shreds.”

  “Fifty on blue,” another guy shouted. “He looks quick on his feet.”

  After everyone had placed their bets, we were led to the far side of the corral. The men climbed the fence and perched on top, well out of reach of Zeus’s powerful jaws.

  When everyone was out of harm’s way, the man who had taken us led Zeus into the ring.

  “Any ideas?” I whispered to Kevin.

  “Not really. But this reminds me of one of Jerry’s jokes. Two guys were in the woods and came upon a grizzly bear. ‘Run!’ one of them said. ‘You’re crazy,’ the other replied. ‘You can’t outrun a grizzly.’ ‘I don’t have to,’ the first guy said. ‘I just have to run faster than you.’”

  “Really! We’re about to get ripped to shreds and all you can come up with is a stupid joke?”

  “If this is really my time, at least I’ll go out with a smile on my face.”

  I was about to make a sarcastic reply when the guy unleashed Zeus from his chain. The huge beast dropped his head, jaws dripping slimy drool, and crept slowly in our direction.

  The man shouted, “Zeus! Kill!” and the beast charged across the corral.

  Halfway across, I heard a ‘zip!’ Zeus yipped and bit at the dart that had penetrated his backside. A moment later, the big dog was unconscious on the ground.

  Then I heard a booming voice. “Everyone on the ground, hands behind your head.”

  Ox and a dozen officers, guns drawn, surrounded the corral.

  “That was a little too close,” I said, as Ox approached.

  He looked me over. “I’d think that you were auditioning for The Blue Man Group, but you’re too old.”

  Everyone’s a comedian.

  CHAPTER 3

  Animal Control took Zeus and another vicious dog. I loaded the carriers with the painted kittens into the car and we headed home.

  On the way, I wracked my brain trying to come up with a story to explain the blue paint all over my body. I hate lying to Maggie but I couldn’t see any value in telling her I was just moments away from being disemboweled by a hound from hell when Ox showed up.

  I was hoping the kittens would be enough of a distraction that Maggie wouldn’t notice my azure hue. It almost worked. The moment she spotted the kittens, her maternal instinct kicked into high gear.

  “Oh, you poor babies!” she gushed, cuddling them in her arms. “You’re so thin! You must be starving.”

  Being petless, we had no cat food, but Maggie found a can of StarKist tuna, the kind I use in my casseroles, and minutes later, the kittens were voraciously gobbling the fishy treat.

  It was at that moment that she noticed the radical change in my complexion.

  “What in the world happened to you?”

  I was ready with my story.

  “It was the cops,” I lied. “After they discovered we had rescued red and blue kittens, they thought it would be appropriate to paint their rescuers the same color. Boys will be boys.”

  I felt awful, but she seemed to buy my little white lie and refocused her attention on our new houseguests.

  “I’ll get some soft towels and make them a bed. They can sleep in our room tonight.”

  “Swell. I’m going to the basement and see if Willie has something to take this stuff off.”

  Willie, my good friend and maintenance man for our building, lives in a studio apartment in the basement.

  I knocked on his door and when he saw me his mouth dropped open.

  “Mr. Walt! What in the Sam Hill happened to you? You looks like a dried up ole’ prune.”

  “It’s a long story. Have you got something to get this stuff off of me?”

  “I got me some turpentine in de shop. Dat’ll do the trick.”

  I followed him to his shop where he doused some rags with the stinky liquid. Fifteen minutes later, most of the offending color was gone.

  I thanked him and headed back to my apartment. I definitely needed a bath. The stench of the turpentine, along with the perspiration that had dripped from my pores as I watched Zeus lunge for my privates, hung over me like a rancid fog.

  Unfortunately, I ran into Jerry the Joker, my tenant on the first floor.

  “Hi Walt!” Then he caught a whiff of the turpentine. “Phew! If that’s some new cologne you’re trying out, you should ask for a refund.”

  “Very funny.”

  I headed up the stairs, but Dad and Bernice, my tenants on the second floor, must have heard the commotion in the hall and had to see what was going on.

  “Hi, Son,” Dad said. Then he too got a whiff. “Yikes! You’re mighty ripe!”

  “Thanks for noticing.”

  Jerry was right on my heels. “As soon as I smelled him, it reminded me of a joke. What do you call a smelly fairy? Stinkerbell!”

  “Good one!” Dad said, giggling.

  I didn’t bother to comment.

  When I entered my apartment, the kittens, now well fed, were frolicking on the floor with Maggie.

  One of them, seeing me enter, bounded in my direction. A few feet away, he suddenly stopped, sniffed, mewed pathetically, and fled back to Maggie.

  “So that’s the thanks I get for saving your furry little ass!”

  The next morning, after Maggie bade a tearful goodbye to the kittens, Kevin and I headed to the Pet Project.

  Evidently, word of our previous night’s exploits must have already been shared with the staff.

  When we entered, Clark boomed, “Hail the conquering heroes!”

  “We’re not heroes,” I replied, blushing. “We were just doing our job.”

  “Nonsense!” Clark said, taking the cat carriers from our hands. “It is said that the most powerful thing on earth is the human soul on fire, and from what I’ve heard, you two were certainly on fire last night!”

  “We got lucky. That’s all.”

  “Rubbish! Luck happens when preparation meets opportunity. You were prepared and you certainly made the most of your opportunity.”

  “Uhhh, thanks. Is Pam in?”

  “She is! You may go right in.”

  As we made our way to Pam’s office, Kevin whispered, “Old Clark seems to have a philosophical meme for just about any occasion.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that.”

  We knocked and Pam met us at the door grabbing our hands. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you have accomplished. Animal
Control told me about your heroics last night at the corral. Due to the severity of the abuse, the Kansas City Police have turned the thugs over to Federal authorities. When convicted, they could get up to seven years in prison.”

  “Just glad we could help,” I replied.

  “I wish we could pay you for your work, but I promise you this: when we move into our new home in Swope Park, there will be a plaque on the wall naming the companies that contributed to the project. Walt Williams Investigations will definitely be there.”

  As we were leaving, Clark shared one last bit of inspiration.

  “Never regret a day in your life. Good days give happiness, bad days give experience, and the best days give memories. This is definitely a day I’ll remember.”

  Back in my office, there was an email from the captain.

  “Thanks for making me look good. Great work!”

  While our latest gig didn’t earn us any money, it did bring us a boatload of good will.

  CHAPTER 4

  A week or so later, I received a call.

  “Mr. Williams, this is Clark.”

  “Uhhh, Clark?”

  “Clark Kent, from the Pet Project.”

  Then I remembered, the mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper. “Hi Clark. What can I do for you?”

  “We need to talk. May I come by your office?”

  “Of course. Does this involve the Pet Project?”

  “No, it’s personal. It might be a good idea if your partner was there too.”

  “Sounds serious. I’ll give him a call.”

  Kevin had just arrived when we heard a knock. When I opened the door, it was Clark, and a second man who looked like a younger version of our mild-mannered reporter.

  “Walt, this is my brother, Curtis.”

  “Pleased to meet you. Come on in. Kevin’s already here.”

  After introductions and when everyone was seated, I jumped right in. “Okay, Clark. What seems to be the problem?”

  He took a long breath. “It’s our younger brother, Carl. He’s been kidnapped.”

  I held up my hand. “Whoa! Stop right there. Kidnapping is a federal offense. The FBI should be handling this.”