Fire and Justice_A Legal Thriller

by Peter O'Mahoney

  Then, he was drinking every day, trying to escape the boredom of not being productive. And every time he drank, he beat her. Their young son witnessed it all, and it formed him into the man he is today.

  Despite the pain, Valerie stood by her husband, determined to help him out of his addiction. Two years ago, her husband passed away after years of struggling with alcohol addiction. That’s when she took the time to reassess her life, and think about the path she was taking.

  After quitting her job as a high-powered executive, she took a position managing the Wells Community Center for Mental Health at the edge of Skid Row – her way of using her management skills to help others in need. Her way of helping others escape the pain that she experienced.

  “I hear that you used to volunteer here as well?” She opens the conversation. “When I said that you were coming, Maria was very happy. You obviously left quite an impression on her.”

  “I used to help here many years ago.” Bill shrugs. “It must have been a long time before you started.”

  “Well, thank you, regardless of how long it was that you did it. I’ve been here for just over a year and a half now. I used to have a position with a large management consulting firm, but I have found my calling here. This is the place I was always supposed to work. I feel like I’m making a difference, and it just feels comfortable here. It feels right working here, making a difference.” She smiles. “So, Mr. Harvey, how is that we can help you?”

  “I’m after information. We’re investigating the death of a man that once attended here.”

  “Ah, yes. Penny called earlier today and told me all about it. She had mentioned that she was doing temp work for you.”

  “She’s an interesting girl, that Penny.”

  “She’s been through a lot.” Valerie shrugs. “She dating my son, Caleb.”

  “Caleb is your son?” Bill starts to piece the puzzle together.

  “Have you met Caleb?”

  “I have. We had a work dinner recently, and Penny brought Caleb along. Big guy, tattoos, former Marine?”

  “That’s him. He’s my only child, and I’m very proud of him. I just hope that some of that goodness rubs off on some of Penny’s attitudes and not the other way around.” Valerie closes the file in front of her, then opens another one.

  “I sent a copy of our file on Gerard West to Penny this morning. I figured we weren’t breaching privacy if you’re a lawyer, and investigating his death. Did you receive it?”

  “We did. Thank you very much for that. But I always find that reports miss something. A piece of paper never tells the full story. That’s why I am here. I was wondering if you could tell me in person what you remember about Gerard?”

  “I don’t remember a lot about Gerard because we see so many people in here, but I’ll tell you what I know.” Valerie turns to the small bench in the back corner of the room and pours two cups of instant coffee, handing Bill one. “I do remember feeling sorry for him. He had been through so much, and obviously, there was a lot of publicity about his downfall. He was trying to recover when he came in here. He was a very handsome man, and when he was feeling good, he was so charismatic and charming. He could light up a room – a lot like you. He was a good guy and lost his way in the throes of mental health issues. Never really had a chance when the illness took over.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it just took control of him. I’ve seen worst cases, but he was a sad one. I sit in on a lot of the sessions – just to get a feel for what is happening around the center. Gerard was one of the first cases I saw; he came in just after I started here. He showed me pictures of him as a youth, and his eyes looked so alive. He looked full of health and vigor, but the man that stood in this center was crushed. He looked like he was ready to give up. And nothing breaks my heart more when I see that look – the look of someone who has struggled enough and doesn’t have the energy to fight anymore. He was defeated.”

  “So he turned to alcohol?”

  “I guess so. That was after he left the treatment sessions here. He just stopped coming, like so many of them do. There’s not a lot we can do in that situation – a person has to want to change before we can help them. We can show them the ropes, but they have to want to climb the wall. We can’t force them to come in here to the session with the counselors. That has to be their decision.”

  “Did he have any enemies here? Anyone that would really hate him?”

  “We don’t judge people that come in here, Mr. Harvey.”

  “I don’t mean the staff,” he replies. “Anyone else? Anyone from his group sessions or people that were about at the time?”

  “Once people found out who he was, a lot didn’t like him – because of the past media coverage. They still blamed him for the lack of justice for the little girl. It was such a big story in the media; it was hard to miss. I must admit, at the time, even I was outraged. Of course, I didn’t judge him when he started coming here. We’ve all made mistakes in the past. But once he turned to alcohol to self-medicate, he was just another drunk. He wasn’t Gerard West the failed lawyer anymore; he was Gerard the lonely drunk. I think he was really comfortable like that, just being another drunk, and that’s why he couldn’t move on from it. And a lot of people don’t like drunks, just because they’re drunks. But they forget to see the story behind what has happened. I don’t blame them, but it is important to remember that there are reasons why a person falls apart.”

  “No clues as to why he might have been murdered?”

  “Sorry, that’s all I know.” Valerie shakes her head, wrapping her hand around her coffee mug. “But I must admit, when I saw a picture of the man accused of the murder, I didn’t think he did it. Gerard was a big guy with wide shoulders, and the accused didn’t look strong enough to take on Gerard. But that’s what the justice system is for, right?”

  Bill looks to the ground. “Maybe. Anything else that can help me?”

  “The report says that we checked in on him a month before his death. One of the caseworkers found an address for him, and they went around to see him. They wrote that he seemed to be on the mend. He had just started at a temporary employment agency for office workers. But you know what it’s like – some of these men have the weight of the world on their shoulders. I guess he couldn’t stay on the wagon and must have fallen back into the throes of alcoholism.”

  “Alcohol and temp workers,” Bill muses out loud. “That seems to be a recurring issue in my investigation.”

  “That’s all I know.” Valerie shrugs. “Anything else I can help you with?”

  “Does Caleb come in here often?”

  “Caleb? My son?” Valerie’s eyes squint at the man sitting across from her.

  Bill nods slowly, waiting for her to continue.

  “You don’t think he’s caught up in this, do you?”

  “I don’t know,” Bill responds calmly. “What do I know is that someone is killing drunks around here, and this center seems to connect them all together.”

  “This center? No.” Valerie shakes her head. “Not this place. We’re not connected to anything. And certainly not Caleb. He’s a good kid. He drops me off most mornings before work and picks me up sometimes, but that’s it. He doesn’t have anything else to do with this place, and he barely sets foot in here. He’s not involved, I guarantee that.”

  The mother’s love to protect her son is strong.

  Bill retreats. “I’m sorry. Of course, he wouldn’t be involved. I just need to look at all the options here before more people die.”

  Valerie draws a breath, offended by the suggestion that her son is a killer. “That’s all we know about Gerard.” She draws the conversation away from her son. “You’ll find everything you need in the report that I sent through to Penny.”

  “Thank you for your help, Valerie.”

  He sips the last of his coffee and stands to leave, inching one step closer to finding the killer.

  Chapter 23

&n
bsp; Jack Grayson yells wildly at the large television screen hanging at the end of the bar. “Come on!”

  So much aggression. Such a release of testosterone.

  His beloved Lakers have won another game, and the crowd erupts at the buzzer as if they have had some influence on the outcome. Men and women high-five each other, others hug, some punch the air. Beer flows freely – drunk at an extraordinarily fast pace. This is a time to celebrate, but Bill Harvey is not of that mindset.

  “It was a good win.” Jack comes back to the booth at the back of the bar where Bill is waiting, both hands around his cool glass. “What a game. We weren’t expected to win that. So electrifying.”

  Bill’s reply is flippant. “Sure was. What a win.” Sports are not his thing.

  “Some people love sports.” Jack leans in, defending his love for men throwing a ball in a hoop. “Sport makes us feel alive. It gives us a buzz of adrenaline. You should get into it, Bill. You’d love it.”

  “And some people love killing homeless drunks. That’s what gets their adrenaline going, and that’s where my attention is now.”

  “That’s the problem with having a friend who’s a lawyer – I could never win an argument against you.” Jack throws his hands up in the air, surrendering to the conversation. “I don’t even know why I try.”

  As a private investigator, the demand for Jack’s skills is slowing down. The more information people put online about their lives, the less people need a foot soldier to do the hard yards. Now, someone in Frankfurt, Germany can find out as much about a person living in Lewistown, Montana as their next-door neighbor would know.

  It’s all there on the Internet.

  All of it.

  Recording every step of life, every new job, every movement.

  While Jack has skills in investigating online, it bores him. The real excitement, the real buzz, comes from working the streets, talking to locals, tailing people. As a six foot four, tattooed, muscular male, he gets his kicks working hard, and scaring people when required.

  And he only gets that work from Bill Harvey’s office.

  “Have you got time to investigate some people for me?” Bill asks his friend.

  Despite the employer-employee relationship, the two strong men have a deep connection, a solid bond. They have each other’s back, and share laughs over a quiet drink at least once a week. They’re friends more than colleagues.

  “I’ve always got time for you, Bill.” Jack smiles, having just spent the day on his computer, investigating a person for insurance fraud. He found photos of the man with a ‘sore back so bad that it meant he could hardly walk’ helping a friend move house, lifting a couching, and then a fridge. Those pictures were forwarded to the man’s former employer to deal with, and Jack received a nice little sum of money for only a few hours work at his desk.

  “This investigation has to be done carefully, and without contact with my office. Everything needs to come to me directly. I don’t want any emails or texts about this. You call me, and we talk face-to-face. Do you understand?”

  “Of course.” Jack nods, a little confused. “Can I ask why?”

  “My new temp, Penny Pearson, has connections to this. I don’t want her to know what we’re doing, and I don’t want her to think that we’re looking into her.”

  “Your temp assistant? The one that is working for you while Kate is on holiday?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What did she do? Steal some cash from the expenses?”

  “No. It might be a lot worse than that.”

  “You’ll have to spell it out for me. I’m not across all this stuff. You know that intelligence isn’t my strength.”

  Bill looks around the bar, checking for any prying ears. There are none; they’re all too busy cheering for men they have never met. “The homeless people that are turning up dead in Los Angeles. All the murders might be connected.”

  “A serial killer?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you think Penny might be the killer?”

  “I don’t know. But all roads are leading to her, or someone closely connected to her. I need to know more about them before I charge ahead with any accusations. And I need to know it very quickly.”

  “And this is about your brother’s case? The one where he is charged with strangling a homeless man?”

  “It is.”

  Jack pulls out his phone, ready to type in the details. “Fire away. What’s her name?”

  “Penelope Jane Pearson.”

  Typing quickly into his smartphone, he brings up Penny’s details. “Twenty years old, blonde, temp worker, currently working for you, former model, has worked at a lot of places… takes a lot of photos on the beach… looks like she lives with her aunt, Nicole…”

  “You got all that in a matter of seconds?”

  “That’s right.” Jack grins broadly, his newly whitened teeth shining brightly. “It’s amazing what is publicly available to people. You’d be surprised.”

  “I already am.”

  He punches in more links on his phone. “But the really juicy stuff I can’t access yet. She has most of her social media accounts set to private, which means I have to be a friend of hers to access the details. I can see some photos, but not all of them.”

  “She’s not going to accept a friend request from you.”

  “She doesn’t need to,” Jack explains. “What I’m going to do is called ‘catfishing’.”

  “Catfishing?” Bill shakes his head. “You’ll have to explain it. This is a whole new world for me.”

  “Catfishing is when you create a fake profile online to appear familiar and comfortable with the target. I’ll create a profile similar to hers – I’ll create a profile of a young woman, fun with social pictures, and I’ll note that I used to work in a place that she worked. I’ll put up pictures that I’ve downloaded from somewhere else, something with lots of other people, and then I’ll send off friend requests to all her friends first. I’m bound to get a bite or two. Once we have two or three mutual friends, then I’ll send her a friend request.”

  “Sounds intensive.”

  “I can get it down in two to five hours, depending on how often she and her friends use the particular websites. While that’s happening, I’ll do some legwork and try to find out everything about her past. I’ll get the report to you once I have her friend request. Shouldn’t be more than five hours.”

  Bill shakes his head, stunned by the new world that is constantly growing around him.

  “Don’t be so anti-technology.” Jack laughs at the confused look on his friend’s face. “Technology is great, and so is social media. It connects people all over the world and lets people interact with others that they may otherwise have never had the chance to. Only yesterday, I got a message from a cousin in Italy that I’d never met. That’s a positive thing.”

  “Maybe.” Bill takes a long drink of his beer.

  “It’s just a cycle. A generation ago, old people like you were complaining about the Internet. Two generations before that, they were complaining about the effects of television. Before that, they were complaining about cars. And probably before that, people were complaining about industrialization. Complaining about change is nothing new; it’s what all the people who can’t accept it do.”

  “Doesn’t mean it’s good for you. Doesn’t mean I have to accept the change.”

  “You won’t accept it because you’re a dinosaur. You’ll be extinct before you know it, just like the other dinosaurs.”

  “If a meteor hits, then we’ll all be extinct. And all that will be left will be the remnants of the Internet, pieces of social media detailing the lives of irrelevant people. Future societies will investigate those details like they do the pyramids of Giza. That’s what future species on Earth will be looking at – a self-absorbed culture taking photos of themselves every fifteen minutes. What a legacy.”

  “But people like Penny Pearson will be revered. They’ll
be so much information about her that they’ll have college classes on her life. They’ll try to establish what life was like today, and she’ll be at the forefront of the studies. And people like you, people that don’t have an online presence, you won’t exist at all. You won’t even be a blip in her class.”

  “And that’s just what I want,” Bill replies. “My legacy won’t be that I just existed, it will be that I made a change. My legacy won’t be that I smiled at a camera, it’ll be that I helped people lead better lives.”

  Jack laughs heartily. “You’re an old-fashioned man working in a new world. You should have been born one hundred years earlier. Lucky you have me to help you keep up-to-date.”

  A group of flashy Lakers supporters cheers loudly as they walk past the booth, interrupting the conversation with their loud chorus chants. The closer they get to the door, the louder they sing. Jack Grayson hums the chant with them, desperate to join in on the celebrating, but remembering that he has to remain focused on the work.

  Once they have passed, Jack leans forward again. “Anything else you want me to look into for this case?”

  “There’s one more name I want you to investigate. Again, it’s got to be quiet. Really quiet.”

  “Of course. What’s the name?”

  He draws a long breath, looking at his friend intensely.

  “Valerie Wood.”

  Chapter 24

  “Were they all drunks?”

  Bill Harvey approaches Detective Matthew Pitt directly, questioning the investigation of the other deaths.

  “Ah…” Pitt thinks for a few moments. “Homeless – yes, men – yes… and drunks, yes. I think so.”

  “So what we have is a killer who loves strangling men and hates drunks?”

  “Apparently. You think it’s a vendetta against drunk people? That seems a bit of a stretch, Bill. Nobody hates drunk people that much.”

  Bill slowly leans back on the park bench, next to Pitt, letting out a huff while the world continues to buzz around them. They watch as children run freely through the park, people with rollerblades zip past, young mothers talk loudly about their exciting days.