Lady Justice and the Evil Twin Read online

  Ox and Judy held up their badges. “I’m George Wilson and this is my wife, Judy. We’re both cops.”

  The officer was obviously confused. “Then what are you doing with scum like this?” he asked, pointing at me. “Are the two of you undercover?”

  “No, my friends and I were trying to have a quiet dinner. You’ve got the wrong guy. This isn’t Viktor Kozlov, it’s Walt Williams. He was my partner for five years.”

  The officer pulled out Kozlov’s photo, then stared at me. “It sure looks like you!”

  “If you’ll uncuff me, I’ll show you my I.D.”

  “I’ll be damned,” he said, handing back my wallet. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Williams, but surely you can see ---.”

  “Yes, I understand. You’re not the first. Can I get back to my steak before it gets cold?”

  “Sure, have a nice evening.”

  “Too late for that,” I muttered.

  When things had calmed down, the woman who had fingered me and her husband came to our table.

  “I guess I owe you an apology,” she said. Then she showed me Kozlov’s photo on her cell phone. “You have to admit that it looks exactly like you. The man on TV said to call the police, so that’s what I did.”

  “I get it. You were just trying to be a good citizen. No harm done other than my steak being cold.”

  “About that,” her husband said, “I told our server that I’m taking care of your table’s bill. I hope that will help make amends.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Oh, yes, it’s the least we can do.”

  The evening certainly didn’t turn out as I hoped it would. Once again, my evil twin had thrust himself into my life. I had to find this guy before some vigilante shoots me by mistake.

  CHAPTER 12

  Viktor was bored out of his mind.

  Ivan had told him to lay low and stay out of trouble, but the four walls of the hotel room were closing in on him.

  “Gotta get out of here,” he muttered.

  Then he thought about the old P.I. What could it possibly hurt to follow him around? After all, the more he knew about the guy, the better.

  “How many more days are we going to waste watching Henrietta McDougall’s mailbox?” Kevin asked.

  “Let me answer a question with a question,” I replied. “How many new clients do you have lined up to take her place?"

  He shrugged. “I guess you’re right. If she wants to pay us to watch her mailbox, why should I object?”

  “Maybe because it’s boring and butt-numbing.”

  “Yes, there is that. Oh well, money is money. Let’s go.”

  “Here comes the mailman,” Kevin said.

  “Quite a load,” I replied, as we watched the carrier stuff the mailbox full. “Maybe today’s the day we get lucky.”

  An hour later, we spied a shabbily-dressed man limping toward the box.

  “Bingo!” Kevin said, picking up his binoculars. “He’s rifling through the mail. He just stuffed a couple of pieces in his pocket. Let’s get him!”

  We approached the man, weapons drawn.

  “Hands in the air!” Kevin ordered.

  The startled man looked at our weapons and immediately complied. “It’s --- it’s not what it looks like,” he stammered.

  “What it looks like,” I replied, “is you stealing Mrs. McDougall’s mail.”

  At that moment, Henrietta came to the door. “What’s going on?”

  “We caught the guy,” I replied.

  “Bring him here,” she said.

  “Ma’am, you don’t have to get involved,” Kevin said. “We’ll just take him downtown.”

  “No,” she replied, “I want to know why someone would steal from an old lady. Bring him here.”

  She watched closely as we marched the man to her doorstep.

  “Well,” she said, eyeing the man, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I --- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any harm. I swear, I never took anything important. Let me show you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the purloined mail. “See, the only things I ever took were coupons for free stuff.”

  Henrietta looked at the coupons, then at the man. “What is your name?”

  “Homer Chapman.”

  “Where do you live?”

  He hung his head. “Nowhere, I guess. I stay at the shelter when it’s cold, otherwise I find a safe spot under a bridge.”

  “I saw you limping. What happened to you?”

  “Oh, that. It’s nothing. Took some shrapnel when my convoy ran over an IED in Iraq.”

  “So you’re a veteran.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How is it that a man who served our country is homeless?”

  “I haven’t been able to find a job. Not much out there for a gimpy guy with no skills.”

  She studied him for a long moment. “Are you willing to work?”

  “Yes, ma’am, but no one will give me a chance.”

  “How about this. I have a small apartment over my garage. I need someone to do chores around the house, cut grass, trim hedges, shovel snow. Would you be interested in doing those things for a place to stay?”

  Homer stared in disbelief. “Yes, ma’am, I would.”

  Kevin and I were as stunned as Homer.

  “But Mrs. McDougall,” Kevin said, “you don’t know a thing about this man. For all we know, he might be ---.”

  “Yes, yes, I know,” she interrupted. “Homer might be a serial killer for all we know. Homer, are you a serial killer?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “See there!” she replied, triumphantly. “What I know is that this man served his country and deserves better. I’m just an old woman, and there’s not much I can do, but I can make a difference here.” She looked at Homer. “I have some of my late husband’s things in the attic. I think they will fit you.”

  Then she turned to us. “Thank you both. You’ve done an admirable job. Please send me a bill for your services. Come on Homer. Let’s get you cleaned up and something to eat.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Kevin said when we were back in the car. “Every day I see stuff that makes me think the world’s gone to hell in a handbasket, then I see something like this. Kinda gives you some hope, doesn’t it?”

  “Indeed it does.”

  Viktor watched with interest as the two old P.I.’s captured the mail thief. He was even more surprised when the old woman took the man inside.

  Fancy house, he thought, as he watched Walt and his partner drive away. I’ll bet the old bat has a safe full of cash and jewels. This is my lucky day.

  He waited until he saw the old woman walk with the mail thief to the garage at the back of the house. When she returned alone, it was time to make his move.

  On the way to the house, he glanced at the name on the mailbox, Henrietta McDougall. He knocked, and the old woman opened the door.

  “Walt, back so soon?”

  “Sorry to bother you Mrs. McDougall, but I forgot something. May I come in?”

  “Certainly,” she replied, stepping aside. “What did you forget?”

  “I forgot to empty your safe.”

  “What in heaven’s name are you talking about?” Then she saw the gun. “Mr. Williams! I can’t believe ---.”

  “Well, you’d better believe, because your life depends on it. Now take me to your safe.”

  “It’s upstairs --- in the master bedroom. I don’t understand. I agreed to pay your fee.”

  “This has nothing to do with that paltry fee. Get upstairs.”

  Once in the bedroom, Henrietta turned to Viktor. “I’m no fool. Once I open the safe, you’re going to shoot me, so you might as well get it over with. I’m not opening the safe.”

  “The difference, my dear, is that after the safe is open, I’ll make it quick with one clean shot. If you refuse, it will be a knee cap, then an arm. You get the picture.”

  At that moment, Homer entered the roo
m. “Thank you, Mrs. McDougall. Your husband’s clothes fit me perfectly.” Then he saw Viktor and the gun. “What the hell?”

  Hearing Homer enter the room, Victor turned the gun on Homer.

  Seeing her opportunity, Henrietta grabbed a vase off the bureau and smashed it against Viktor’s head. Seeing the gunman momentarily off balance, Homer sprang forward, hitting his assailant like an NFL linebacker. The gun flew across the room as the two men struggled on the floor. Viktor landed a punch that stunned Homer long enough for Viktor to struggle to his feet and head for the door.

  Homer pursued, but with his gimpy leg he was no match for the Russian. He had just made it to the front door when he saw the intruder speed away.

  Kevin brought me straight home from Henrietta McDougall’s house. Maggie greeted me at the door, and we shared a glass of Arbor Mist while I told her of the morning’s unusual turn of events.

  Then I retired to my office to prepare an invoice to send to the kind woman.

  I had just finished when there was a knock on the door. It was two uniformed officers.

  “Are you Walter Williams?”

  “Yes, what’s this about?”

  “Please turn around and put your hands behind you back. You’re under arrest.”

  “I don’t understand. Under arrest for what?”

  “Attempted robbery. Now turn around!”

  Maggie came into the room. “What in the world?”

  “Please stay back, Ma’am,” the second officer said, holding up her hand.

  “Call Kevin and tell him to come to the precinct,” I said, as the officers led me away while reading me my rights.

  At the precinct, I was taken directly into the robbery division. The officers who brought me in, sat me down rather forcefully on a wooden chair. A few minutes later, a detective entered with Mrs. McDougall and Homer. I hardly recognized the guy. He was clean-shaven and wearing slacks and a sports jacket.

  “Is this the man who assaulted you, Mrs. McDougall?”

  She nodded. “That’s him all right. That’s Walter Williams.”

  The detective turned to Homer. “Is this the man you fought with?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s him.”

  “Hang on a minute,” I said. “Please! I can straighten this out. Go get Detective Blaylock in Homicide.”

  At that moment, Kevin and Maggie entered. “You got the wrong guy!” Kevin said.

  “Who the hell are you?” the detective asked.

  “I’m his partner. What’s going on here?”

  Henrietta spoke up. “After the two of you left, Mr. Williams returned. He threatened to kill me if I didn’t open my safe. Thank heavens Homer came along. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead.”

  “It couldn’t have been Walt,” Kevin protested. “I drove him home myself.”

  “And I was home until these officers came to my door,” I protested. “My wife was with me. She’ll tell you.”

  “That’s right,” Maggie said. “He never left the house.”

  At that moment, Detective Blaylock entered the room. He took a look at my manacled hands.

  “Jesus, Walt! Not again!”

  “I’m afraid so. Please tell them.”

  Blaylock pulled his cell phone from his pocket, found the photo of Viktor Kozlov, and showed it to Henrietta. “Is this the man who assaulted you?”

  “Yes, that’s him. That’s Mr. Williams.”

  “No, actually it’s not. This is a Russian gangster by the name of Viktor Kozlov.”

  Henrietta looked at the photo. “Sure looks like you.”

  “I promise you, it wasn’t me,” I replied.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I always thought I was a good judge of character. I found it difficult to believe I had misjudged you so badly.”

  I held up my manacled hands. “Could someone get these off me? I’m getting chaffed.”

  The officer looked at the detective and he nodded. “Sorry about the mix-up,” she said, removing the cuffs, “but I’m sure you understand. You do look like the creep in the photo.”

  “Actually, Walt was one of us,” Blaylock added. “Five years. Ox was his partner.”

  “No kidding?” the officer who read me my rights asked. Then he took a closer look. “Are you the old cop who started that C.R.A.P. program? The City Retiree Action Patrol?”

  “Yes, that would be me.”

  “Wow! We heard about you in the academy. It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I hope there’s no hard feelings.”

  “Nope, you were just doing your job.”

  “The problem,” Blaylock interjected, “is that Kozlov is still out there. He’s killed three times that we know of.”

  “Plus,” I added, “he’s making my life a living hell.”

  Then Kevin stated the obvious, and a chill ran up my spine. “Kozlov must have been following us. He waited until we left, then approached Mrs. McDougall. You know what that means.”

  “I do,” I replied. “It means that this creep knows everything about me. He knows where I go, what I do, and who I’m with. Until we catch this guy, no one around me will be safe!”

  CHAPTER 13

  The next day, Kevin and I were in my office trying to figure a way to smoke out my evil twin, when the phone rang. It was Suzanne Romero.

  Suzanne is undeniably the best defense attorney in Kansas City. She is a stickler for following the letter of the law, and more cases than the cops would ever admit, had been thrown out because of shoddy police work.

  She had defended Ox and me when we had been set up for murder by two corrupt cops, and she had saved Mary Murphy when she had been prosecuted by an overzealous D.A.

  I, in turn, had helped her on several difficult cases. Because of our ongoing relationship, she would occasionally throw some business our way.

  “Good morning, Walt. Suzanne Romero here. How are things at Walt Williams Investigations?”

  “As good as can be expected for two geriatric gumshoes. What can we do for you?”

  “Are you interested in a babysitting job?”

  “It depends. If you’re talking about a real baby, probably not. Neither Kevin or I have a great deal of experience in that area.”

  She laughed. “No, this one is thirty-seven-years old. His name is Alexi Smirnoff.”

  “Oh, just great! Another Russian.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ve been dealing with a Russian gangster who looks exactly like me. It’s not been a pleasant experience. What’s with this Smirnoff character?”

  “He’s a major player in the Russian mob. The Drug Enforcement Unit caught him running a string of meth labs throughout the city. Smirnoff cut a deal. He agreed to turn state’s evidence and testify against the mob for immunity and witness protection. His testimony would be a major blow to the Russian mob in Kansas City.

  “I was appointed by the court to represent him throughout the proceedings. We go to trial in a few days. In the meantime, Alexi is staying at the Kansas City Marriott downtown. I need someone to babysit the guy until trial. It would mean staying with him around the clock to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid. There would be a cop stationed outside his door for protection.

  “I thought of you and Kevin. It’s actually a pretty cushy job. You get to stay in a fancy hotel, order whatever you want from room service, all courtesy of the city of Kansas City. What do you say?”

  Kevin had been listening to our conversation. I looked at him and he nodded. “Why not?”

  “Looks like we’re in,” I said. “When do we start?”

  “As soon as you can get here. Room 213 at the Marriott. I’ll introduce you to Alexi and the officer in charge of the protection duty.”

  “We’ll be there in a half hour.”

  We decided to take twelve-hour shifts. I would take days from eight in the morning until eight in the evening, and Kevin would stay the night. After informing our wives of our new assignment and getting their
blessing, we headed downtown.

  The officer in charge of protection was Clark Simpson. I didn’t know the guy, but after a chat, it turned out that he knew Ox. He informed us that an officer would be stationed outside the room twenty-four hours a day on a rotating schedule. They didn’t want to take the chance that the mob would try to eliminate the snitch who would testify against them.

  Then Suzanne introduced us to Alexi. He had started working for the mob in his twenties, and had risen through the ranks to become a trusted insider. He had been working as second in command to Egor Mitkin who was in charge of the mob’s drug distribution. His testimony, putting Mitkin behind bars, would virtually wipe out the mob’s drug pipeline into the city.

  I had pictured all Russian mobsters to be like Ivan Drago, the Russian boxer in the Rocky movies. Alexi didn’t fit that mold. He was short and pudgy and reminded me of Danny DeVito.

  “Well, damn!” he said when he saw me. “When Suzanne said I’d be getting a babysitter, I was picturing some young chick with a pony tail, not some guy old enough to be my grandpa.”

  “And I was picturing Ivan Drago, not Danny DeVito. Life is full of disappointments.”

  That made him bust out laughing. “I think I’m going to like you!”

  After chatting a few minutes, I asked about my evil twin.

  “Do you know a guy in your organization named Viktor Kozlov?”

  He thought for a moment. “Can’t say that I do, but I’ve been out of circulation for a few weeks. Ivan might have imported some new blood.”

  “I’ve heard he’s from New York.”

  “That’s certainly possible. Sometimes they import new guys that the cops and the competition don’t know.”

  At that moment, my cell phone rang. I was surprised to hear Carmine Marchetti’s voice on the other end.

  “Walt. This is Carmine. How’s the new assignment going?”

  Unbelievable! I thought. “How could you possibly know about our new assignment? It’s only been two hours since Suzanne Romero called us.”