[Lady Justice 13] - Lady Justice and the Assassin Read online

  “I’m in!”

  It took a half hour wrapped in blankets and two cups of steaming coffee to thaw me out.

  The moment I was able to speak, I told Ox about my encounter with the dog show Mata Hari. It didn’t take him long to find her. She was, by far, the best-looking handler in the show.

  Later, after he had heard the whole story, he just shook his head. “So you took a pass on that?”

  “And you wouldn’t have? Have you considered the consequences if Judy found out?”

  “Most likely she would have broken both my legs and cracked my skull after rendering my private parts inoperable. In retrospect, I think you made the right call.”

  “Any word on her accomplice?”

  “With the charge of attempted murder of a police officer hanging over her head, she sang like a canary. Turns out that she and one of the guys on Reese’s staff were old high school sweethearts. They hooked up again at a class reunion and hatched the plot.”

  That brought a smile to my face. I had just experienced my own class reunion and I was well aware of the shenanigans that could resurface as old acquaintances and friends reunited.

  By the time we returned to the precinct, the news that we had collared the dog-shaving ring had spread throughout the squad.

  Officer Dooley was the first to get in his licks. “Hey, it’s the Ice Man and the Dog Whisperer. I hear you were a really cool guy --- I mean REALLY COOL!”

  “Very funny!”

  Fortunately, the Captain called us into his office before anyone could launch a second volley.

  “Great job, guys. I’m so happy that we can finally put this dog-shaving thing to bed. Take the rest of the day off.”

  Then with a straight face, he handed me an envelope. “In recognition of your brush with death, your fellow officers took up a collection and bought you this.”

  I opened the envelope and found a gift certificate for an hour under the lamp in a tanning booth.

  “They thought it might help you thaw out,” he said, trying to suppress a smile.

  “Et tu, Brute?” I said, with as much angst as I could muster.

  “Too good to pass up,” he said with a grin. “Now get out of here!”

  When I pulled up in front of my apartment building, my old friend and maintenance man, Willie Duncan was sitting on the front step.

  At one point in my life, I had owned two hundred rental units. Willie was the guy I counted on to take care of all the clogged toilets, broken windows and drippy faucets.

  When I retired from real estate I sold all of my buildings except the one I live in and the Three Trails Hotel, a flophouse with twenty sleeping rooms that share four hall baths. No one in their right mind wanted to buy that old relic.

  Willie lives in a studio apartment in the basement and gets his rent-free for taking care of the last vestiges of my rental empire.

  Since becoming a cop, Willie has proven to be a valuable asset. Before starting to work for me, he lived on the street in the seamier parts of Kansas City, and that background has helped solve more than one case. My old friend had pulled my fat out of the fire more times than I wanted to remember.

  “Hey, Mr. Walt. You home early.”

  “Ox and I wrapped up a case and the Captain gave us the rest of the day off. How are things around here?”

  “Dey’s quiet for a change. I seen Jerry head off somewhere, so I don’ have to lissen to none of his stupid jokes, an yo’ dad an’ Miss Bernice went to de movies.”

  “Fantastic! I’ve had a rather trying day, so I’m about to pour a glass of Arbor Mist and just kick back for a while.”

  “Sounds good to me. Enjoy yousef.”

  At that moment, the phone rang.

  “Walt, this is Mary. Some punks just drove by and shot up the hotel!”

  So much for taking it easy.

  Willie saw the look of concern on my face. “Whassup?”

  “That was Mary. She said there had been a drive-by shooting at the hotel. Let’s go!”

  Mary Murphy is my seventy-six year old housemother at the hotel. Given the fact that virtually all of the tenants there are either old retired guys on Social Security or marginally employable fellows working out of the day labor pool, somebody had to be on site to keep a lid on things. That person is Mary.

  While most old gals in their seventies are not exactly formidable, Mary is definitely an exception.

  In the past three years, she has clubbed an assassin that had Maggie and me in his sights, shot an intruder that had threatened her with a knife and whacked the intruder’s brother that had come looking for revenge. She carries a thirty-six inch baseball bat and no one at the hotel gives her a minute of trouble.

  When I pulled up in front of the hotel, a black and white was already there. The officer recognized me right away.

  “Walt, what are you doing here?”

  “Unfortunately, I own the place. What have you got?”

  “I’ll tell you what we got!” Mary shouted from the front porch. “We got bullet holes and lots of ‘em.”

  I looked where she was pointing and at least a dozen bullets had shattered the old asbestos tile on the front of the building.

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “Nope, no one got shot, but old man Feeney was sittin’ on the far end of the porch when the shootin’ started. Scared him so bad, he crapped his pants. He peeled ‘em off and was headed to the laundry room but I stopped him. I told him no way was he gonna put those nasty things in my machine.”

  That was way more information than I wanted.

  Mary forged ahead. “I think they was shootin’ at that kid,” she said, pointing to a young black man sitting on the stoop.

  “Darius!” Willie exclaimed. “You all right, boy?”

  The kid, obviously scared to death, nodded his head.

  “Do you know this boy?” the officer asked.

  “Sho do,” Willie replied. “Dat’s Darius. He’s Emma’s gran’son. I helped him get a room here.”

  Sixty-nine-year-old Willie had never been married --- at least that I knew of, but he certainly hadn’t been shy with women over the years. In fact, he had quite a reputation as a lady’s man in his younger days. He had mellowed with age, but he most assuredly hadn’t been put out to pasture. On those frequent occasions when he felt the need for a booty call, Emma had been his go-to gal.

  “You know who done dis?” Willie asked

  The boy nodded again.

  “Well who den?”

  “The Vipers.”

  “Holy crap!” the officer said. “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes!”

  “So who are these guys?” I asked. I had never heard of the Vipers before.

  “They’re a new gang. After you and Ox took out the Niners, there was a vacuum, and as the old saying goes, ‘nature abhors a vacuum’. It wasn’t long before the Vipers started running the streets. From what I’ve heard from the guys in the Gang Unit, they’re every bit as bad, if not worse, than the Niners.”

  Just what I needed --- straight from the freezer and into the fire --- all in the same day!

  CHAPTER 10

  Brant Jaeger was ecstatic when he heard Henry’s voice on the other line. He covered the mouthpiece and turned to Terrance Cobb. “He’s in! He’s gonna do it! I knew he would!”

  Regaining his composure, he turned his attention back to Henry. “I’m glad to hear it, Henry. Here’s what we need to do first ---.”

  Before he could finish the sentence, Henry broke in. “No, Max, or whatever your name is, if I’m going to put my life on the line, I have a few stipulations of my own.”

  Henry’s boldness took Jaeger by surprise. He had figured him to be weak and submissive. “Very well. What do you have in mind?”

  “Money! I’m sitting here in the dark. KCP&L has cut off my electricity. The gas and water are probably not far behind. My home is in foreclosure. If I don’t catch up the back payments it will soon be gone. When I go through with this, my da
ys with my wife and child are numbered. I want them to be as pleasant and normal as possible.”

  Jaeger liked the fact that Henry said, ‘when’ and not ‘if’.

  “How much are we talking about?”

  “Fifty thousand. I’ll set up the bank account tomorrow and text you the account number. When I see the money is there, I’ll give you a call. I’ll need a few days to get the lights back on and get the wolf away from the door. After that, I’m all yours.”

  There was a long pause.

  “That’s doable, Henry. I’m only going to say this once, so listen very carefully. I told you in the beginning that this was a win-win situation. When we pull this off, your family will be set for life and my organization will have accomplished its objective --- but, if at any juncture, you cross us, it will no longer be a win for your family. We know who and where they are, Marsha, Billy, Ellen and Jim. If we are willing to take down the President of the United States, do you think we would hesitate for a minute to take reprisals against your family? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes, I understand completely. You do what you’re supposed to do and I’ll do the same.”

  “I’m glad we’re on the same page. I’ll be waiting to hear from you. The money will be available to you within an hour from the time we receive your call.”

  Henry signed off and sat in the darkness pondering the chain of events that he had just set in motion. He had just changed the course of history. The name Henry Martin would be reviled and despised and he would join the ranks of John Wilkes Booth and Lee Harvey Oswald as a murderer of the worst kind.

  He allowed himself only a moment to dwell on the dark side of his deed. He focused instead on the salvation of his family.

  For the rest of the evening, by the light of a few candles he found in the pantry and the flashlight that he and Billy took fishing, he carried the boxes that he had packed back to the basement and placed them on the wooden shelves where they belonged.

  Billy’s Tonka truck had been spared the indignity of a garage sale and would be kept in the family so that Billy might some day share it with a son of his own.

  He had thought that he would feel remorse and regret for his decision, but instead, he felt a deep sense of relief and satisfaction.

  He had saved his family and his home.

  After the officer had taken his report and moved on, we had a conference in Mary’s apartment.

  “Okay, Darius,” I said, “tell us what you know about the Vipers.”

  We had never met before and the young man looked at me skeptically.

  Willie stepped right in. “Darius, dis is Mr. Walt. He’s my frien’ and he’s a cop, too. He can help us wit dis. Now tell de man what you know.”

  I could see that Darius was still reluctant, but with Willie’s encouragement, he opened up.

  “The dude that’s headin’ up the Vipers is Rashon Rippe. I knew him from high school before he dropped out. Ever since he started putting the Vipers together, he’s been bugging me to join up. I told him that I didn’t want no part of it. I’m in Junior College trying to get my Associate’s Degree. He just won’t leave me alone.”

  “There are hundreds of kids out there on the street,” I said. “Why is he so interested in you?”

  “I tell you why,” Willie broke in. “Cuz his pappy was a locksmith and he taught Darius de tricks o’ de trade. Dat boy can pop open mos’ any lock befo’ you can say ‘scat’.”

  “I can certainly see how that could be an asset to a street gang,” I replied. “The good news is that this shooting spree was just a message to let Darius know what could happen if he doesn’t come around. From the looks of those bullet holes, if they wanted him dead, he’d be dead, but he’s no good to them dead. They want his skills.”

  “Do you think they’ll come back?” Darius asked.

  Mary had been silent up till now. “I hope they do come back! Mr. Walt, give me a gun and I’ll take care of those little punks!”

  “I’m sure you could, Mary,” I replied, trying to calm her down. “The last thing we need is a shootout at the Three Trails Hotel. I’m concerned about the collateral damage. Right now, all we have is some broken tiles and Mr. Feeney’s soiled pants, but it could have been a lot worse. We have to think about the safety of the other nineteen tenants”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she replied reluctantly, “but I’m keeping’ my eyes peeled just the same.”

  “Did anyone see the driver and the shooter?” I asked.

  “Sorry,” Darius replied. “As soon as I saw that souped-up Charger come barreling down the street, I ducked for cover.”

  “Old man Feeney can’t see past the end of the porch,” Mary declared, so I know he couldn’t tell you nothing’.”

  “Darius,” I said, “I think you should just lay low until we figure this thing out. Go to your classes but keep a low profile. I’m going to check some things out and get back to you.”

  “What about all them holes in my front porch?” Mary asked.

  “Just tell the other tenants that this incident was a warning to one of the tenants that was late with his rent. Maybe they’ll get the message.”

  “I like that!” she said with a grin.

  When we were alone. I turned to Willie.

  “I think it’s time we had a chat with Louie the Lip. Set it up!”

  Before Willie came to work for me, he had lived the life of a con man. He and Louie were contemporaries and worked a number of scams as a team. While Willie had given up the life of a grifter, Louie was still out there doing his thing.

  They were old friends, and even though their lives had taken different paths, they remained close.

  Unlike many of the young punks that roam the streets today, Louie was of the old school. While he lived on the shady side of the law, he still adhered to a moral code. There were just some lines that shouldn’t be crossed, no matter what.

  Willie had introduced me to Louie and with his help, we had taken some of the more violent and worst offenders off of the street.

  Louie came by his moniker honestly. His lower lip stuck out so far, you could almost balance a cup on it. He definitely put Mick Jagger to shame.

  Our infrequent conferences with Louie were always hush-hush. He had a reputation to protect and the last thing he wanted was to be seen consorting with a police officer.

  We met in an old warehouse on the Northeast side of the city. Willie and Louie did the old hand-slap, knuckle-knock, shoulder bump thing that cool guys do. I could never figure it out. Deferring to my un-coolness, Louie just shook my hand.

  “So what can I do for the Bobbsey Twins today?” Louie asked.

  “The Vipers,” I replied. “What do you know about them?”

  “Jesus, Walt! First de Niners and now de Vipers! You got a death wish or somethin’?”

  “They’re trying to recruit the grandson of Willie’s lady friend, and the idiots shot up my hotel this morning. We have to do something.”

  Louie turned his attention to Willie. “So how is Emma doin’ dese days?”

  “She’s fine! Mighty fine!” Willie replied with a wink.

  Apparently Louie and Willie were even closer than I had suspected.

  “The Vipers,” I repeated, trying to get the conversation back on track. “What makes these guys so tough?”

  “They’re your typical street gang,” Louie replied. “When dey recruit a guy, dey tattoo a snake on his arm, but de snake has no fangs. The member has to earn his fangs by doin’ some kind of job. Might be a heist or it might be a killin’. When he pulls it off he gets a fang. The dude’s on probation until he gets both of his fangs.”

  “Well, crap! No wonder the crime rate in Northeast has been on the rise. Where do these guys hang out?”

  “Don’t know exactly where dey meet to plan their hits, but dey hang out a lot at a place on Twelfth Street. It’s a bar with a greasy spoon and some pool tables. Some of em’s always there.”

 
“What do you know about this Rashon Rippe? I hear he’s running things.”

  “I suppose you know that I ain’t no saint, but I look like Mother Teresa next to this guy. The dude’s a regular sociopath. He’d just as soon kill ya as look at ya. I heard dat he gutted one of his own guys for talking back. I’d steer clear of him if I was you.”

  “Thanks, Louie. You’ve been a big help. At least I know what I’m dealing with.”

  “You be careful,” he replied. “I went to your funeral once. I don’t want to do it again!”

  The Captain was surprised to see me back after giving me the day off.

  “Just can’t stay away, can you?”

  “We need to talk.”

  I told the Captain about Darius, the drive-by shooting at the hotel and our conversation with Louie the Lip.

  “How do you get mixed up in all this stuff?” the Captain asked, shaking his head in amazement.

  “The Gang Unit has been trying to get a fix on these guys for weeks and here you are, up to your armpits in Vipers. Let’s get Franco Harriman over here and see what he has to say.

  Harriman was a tough-as-nails veteran that had worked his way up through the ranks and was now the head of the Gang Unit.

  In ten minutes, he was in the Captain’s office and I got to tell my story for the second time.

  He listened intently and I could see by the glimmer in his eyes that he liked what he was hearing.

  “This may be the break we’ve been looking for,” he said. “Now I just have to figure how to get some eyes and ears on them without tipping them off.”

  “I might have an idea,” I ventured.

  I saw the Captain roll his eyes. “Go on.”

  “Remember the Gillham Park case with the purse snatcher?”

  The Captain nodded.

  “Willie and I were staked out in the park --- just two old codgers playing checkers. Nobody pays any attention to old farts like us. We’re just part of the woodwork.

  “We could set up at the gang’s hang out on Twelfth Street. We could just keep our ears and eyes open for a few days. Maybe we could pick up something.”