Book Read Free

Faith and Justice

Page 4

by Peter O'Mahoney


  “I haven’t been into an art gallery since I was a child in school.” Jones smiled and leaned back in the chair. “And that must’ve been a long time ago because I didn’t stay in school very long.”

  “I love this place, Ray. There are paintings here that predate Columbus’s arrival on the shores of America. There’s a feeling of history here, a sense that we’re only a blip in time.” Hunter swirled his coffee; tilting the cup to one side and then to the other. “But you know, seeing paintings by Picasso, Van Gogh, Matisse, Monet—it really hit me that they were the precursors to Facebook and Instagram.”

  “Facebook and Instagram? I don’t know a lot about art, but I’d say they’d predate social media by at least a hundred years.”

  “Exactly, and they were the ones that started posting pictures of their food on walls. They all said: ‘Look at me, I’m having a bowl of fruit and I’m going to paint it.’” Hunter smirked with his arms outstretched. “And here we are, one hundred years later, and everyone’s doing the same thing. Everyone’s still posting pictures of food on their walls.”

  Jones laughed; his deep voice echoed around the gallery space, causing some people to look down their noses at him. The chair almost buckled under his weight as he moved. The chair wasn’t big enough for Jones. Most chairs weren’t. As a broad, muscular man, Ray Jones filled most things out.

  “You look tired, Ray. Been sleeping much?”

  “Not really. I’ve been partying hard the last few weeks. Not for any special occasion though—just for the sake of it. I’ve met a girl, you see, but she’s only in her mid-twenties. Great girl, lots of fun, but man, she loves to party.”

  “You’re partying at our age? You’re a brave man.”

  “I’ve always thought that life isn’t about reaching the finish line in one piece, Tex. It isn’t about arriving at death with the perfect skin, the perfect hair, or the perfect body.” Jones smiled. “It’s about arriving at death’s door on your last legs, barely able to walk, messed up and blissed out, lost and happy, and looking back and thinking, ‘Yep, that was all worth it.’”

  “I’ve seen you party, and the way you party seems to bring the finish line a lot closer.”

  “That’s what happens when you party with women twenty years younger.” Jones laughed again before he leaned forward, rocking the table under the weight of his arms. “So, what have you got for me, boss?”

  “I’ve got someone that I want you to look into.” Hunter opened his briefcase and placed two files on the table. “His name is Lucas Bauer. He’s of German descent, and he’s the business partner of Amos Anderson’s healing treatments. He’s the money man behind their business, The Faith Healing Project.”

  “You want me to sniff around Anderson’s business dealings? Get the inside word to see if he could snap and kill someone?”

  “I’m not sure if Anderson killed Reverend Green. I’m going to have a hard time proving that in court, but he appears to be telling the truth when he says that he didn’t do it. That doesn’t mean he didn’t, but he looks convincing. What I want from you is to have a sniff around the manager, Bauer. He’s a former Las Vegas show promoter, so that’s a guarantee that there will be a backstory to why he’s now in Chicago.”

  Jones stared at the table, focusing on the instructions from his main employer. As a private investigator, he could rely on Tex Hunter’s office to hand across the most interesting cases.

  Last week, he spent his time tracking a housewife because the husband thought she was cheating on him. She wasn’t. Instead, the woman was spending time with her friends at a coffee shop. Jones understood that need for socializing outside of the home, and after the husband paid him the fee, he slammed him against a wall and told him that he needs to loosen his grip on his wife’s life.

  Most people listened when Ray Jones gave instructions.

  “Have you got the time now to look into this?” Hunter asked.

  “For you, I’ll make time.”

  “Nothing else on then?”

  “Not a thing. Work’s drying up. Most people do their investigations online these days. They can find out more in an hour Googling than I can in a week’s worth of tailing someone. They can find out who a person is talking to, what they’re looking at, and what they’re downloading with a few clicks. Without your office, my job is almost obsolete; all I’m left with are jealous housewives and duped employers.”

  “Don’t worry, Ray. I’ll always need you.”

  “And this is much more exciting than trailing workers’ compensation claims.”

  “Good.” Hunter removed another folder from his briefcase and handed it to Jones. “I want you to look into the church shooting as well. It’s making me angry that they haven’t made an arrest yet. My shoulder’s sore, and there’s no one to blame. But you need to be aware that this case might go into territory that you’re not going to like. Racist territory. A man named Chuck Johnson may be involved, so I understand if you want nothing to do with it.”

  “I’ve heard of him, and I’m not scared of him. I’ll gather the information, put it in a file for you, and then you can do whatever you like with it.” Jones watched a group of petite elderly women walk past their table. The women were so perfectly dressed in matching bright colors that he couldn’t take his eyes off them. They were like moving pieces of art. “What’s your play with the murder case?”

  “We’re going to present a new suspect to the jury. That’s going to be our best play. The prosecution has a lot of evidence that places Anderson there, but no witnesses to the actual murder. If we can make it look like Lucas Bauer was also around at the time of death, then we can create doubt about who is guilty.”

  “And how do you intend to do that?”

  “I’m going to push him until I hit a breaking point. That’s why I need information on him. The more information I have, the easier it will be for me to get under his skin.”

  “These Vegas promoters are dangerous people, Tex. I’d rather be in a room full of violent criminals—at least you know how they’re going to react. Criminals get angry and throw punches. Show business promoters, well, you have no idea what they’re going to do because they’re going to do it while your back is turned. They’re dirty people. Underhanded. Ruthless. There’s no honor to these people. You’re inviting danger in by just going there.”

  “Ray.” Hunter grinned, closing the file in front of him. “That’s how I like it.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The hallway was dark enough to fear tripping over an unseen object.

  The curtains were black, the lighting was nonexistent, and the space was narrow. The perfect place for a mature stage director to pressure a young star.

  Tex Hunter walked through the space, running his hand along the velvet curtain, slowly edging his way to the back of the stage. Three twenty-year-old girls kicked their legs high, spun around, and then wiggled their breasts. The director at the side of the stage clapped and cheered, and Hunter thought that the old guy was creepy enough, but it was the man sitting in the front of the theater that really caught his attention.

  One long leg crossed over the other, he was studying the dancing burlesque girls practicing their moves as if he was undressing them with his eyes.

  Within two days, Jones was able to build a hefty file on Lucas Bauer. Born to German parents, they moved to Chicago when he was ten and educated him in an international school for foreign speaking children. He graduated high school at the top of his class before the bright lights of Vegas called him west. He spent twenty years as a show business promoter in the glitz of the strip before leaving the city almost bankrupt and destitute, returning to Chicago three years ago.

  “Mr. Hunter,” the man called out.

  The girls stopped dancing, turned, and looked at Hunter. They smiled, then giggled.

  Hunter returned the smiles, followed by a small nod.

  “Alright, break time,” the director shouted and then hustled the girls off the side of the stage
. He slapped one of the girls on the behind, and Hunter glared at him. The director noticed the stare and kept his head down, aware that he was one small step away from a sexual harassment charge, or many of them.

  Hunter walked down the steps at the side of the stage, and the man in the seats stood.

  “Mr. Lucas Bauer.”

  The man that stood before him was flamboyant; his clothes were perfectly tailored, his physique was athletic, and he was immaculacy groomed. His suit was navy blue, his shirt checkered pink, his tie bright orange. The style of his thin gold necklace perfectly matched the three rings on his fingers.

  A man full of color, flair, and style.

  Not exactly what Hunter expected from the promoter of a faith healer.

  They shook hands, Tex’s dominating Bauer’s. He was sure that Bauer wasn’t dominated very often, but he had to mark his territory. Hunter kept his grip solid throughout the handshake, using his large hands to tighten the grip more than usual. Hunter held Bauer’s stare, and grunted as Bauer let go.

  “The famous son of ‘The Chicago Hunter’. How does it feel to be the offspring of a serial killer?” Bauer dipped his head.

  “Famous son?”

  “Everyone knows you, Tex. Can I call you Tex?”

  Hunter nodded his response.

  “Everyone in Chicago knows your family story. We all watched it on television, and my family was the same as everyone else. We were all glued to the television as we watched your father’s trial, and we cried for you as the heartbroken boy that watched as his father was dragged off to prison. You and I were the same age when it all happened, and I used to think about how I would react if that happened to my father. The perfect suburban life torn apart by your father’s crimes. It shocked the whole city.”

  “That’s not my story.”

  “Regardless, nobody’s family is perfect, certainly not mine. My father has a lot of secrets in his closet. Some that may hurt me one day.” Bauer shrugged. “Although my father didn’t kill eight girls.”

  Hunter didn’t respond.

  “Please, sit down.”

  Lucas Bauer sat comfortably in the front row of the theater seats. The seats were cushy, well used, and worn down. As Bauer crossed one leg over the other, his bright green socks were on display. Clearly, he chose those socks as part of his outfit. When Hunter opened his new packet of socks that morning, ordered online the week before, he noticed that they all had small compartments for his toes, like a glove. One of the socks had room for seven toes. That was an odd sock.

  “I’m sorry we had to meet here, but my schedule is so busy. At the moment, I’m promoting this burlesque show, and I needed to make sure the girls are up to standard, if you know what I mean.” Bauer winked.

  Hunter didn’t respond in kind.

  “This show is one of the only things I have left from my time in Vegas. I have the rights to the name of this show, and I’m trying to get it started in Chicago.” Bauer brushed his hands down his tie. “They take almost everything from you, you know? When someone in Vegas decides that you’re done, you’re done. And any attempt to come back is only met with danger.”

  “You don’t look like a man that runs from danger.”

  “Usually, I’m the danger that most people face, but there are bigger fish than me in Vegas.” Bauer confidently leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs wide. “How is it that I can I help you?”

  “As you’re aware, I’m defending Amos in the case of the—”

  “Do you think he did it?” Bauer interrupted.

  “Whether or not he did isn’t the problem; it’s whether or not we can prove it in a court of law.”

  Bauer laughed brashly, loud enough for the echo to circulate through the small theater. The acoustics were good.

  “That’s the way with all you law types. Not worried about the facts, or what actually happened. All you’re worried about is what you can prove in accordance with the law.”

  Hunter ignored the jibe. “What can you tell me about Amos?”

  “He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and nor am I. But Amos is one of the few people that can make a difference in this world. He’s a game-changer. He doesn’t think the same as normal folk. His brain seems to operate on a different level than yours and mine. He’s a trained scientist, you know? He studied science at The University of Chicago because he thought he could develop something new, something to change the world, but science was too restrictive for him. There were too many boundaries.”

  “Boundaries are important.” Hunter looked around the room. “Tell me, if you think he’s innocent, why are you testifying against him?”

  “I’m not,” Bauer retorted. “I’m testifying for the prosecution about what I saw. I don’t want to go against my friend, my business partner, but I saw what I saw. If he did it, if he killed Reverend Green, then he has to go to prison. Do the crime, do the time, so to speak.”

  “What has the prosecution told you to say?”

  “The truth.”

  “The truth is very subjective.”

  Bauer scoffed, “Reverend Green was a lot like you—always concerned with doing things the right way and by the book. I’m not like you guys. I’d much prefer to break the rules and get an advantage.”

  “You knew Reverend Green well?” The surprise was obvious on Hunter’s face.

  “We talked a lot, Reverend Green and I.” Bauer smiled. “And the fact is—he was good for business. The more he hated Amos, the more people heard about us. And the more people heard about us, the more they became intrigued. And the more they became intrigued, the more money I could make.”

  “How romantic.”

  “I thought of every argument between Amos and Green as free advertising. The papers were beginning to love the battle between the black church and the white faith healer. It was the perfect contrast.” Bauer moved his hands to the armrests. “Green served a purpose for us.”

  Lucas Bauer had the look of a man who was very comfortable in his own skin. His olive complexion and square jaw wouldn’t look out of place on a midday soap opera, and nor would his deep, smooth voice. Bauer cast a shadow over most people; however, that shadow would be a bright and colorful one.

  It was clear that he was cunning, and if anybody pushed the right buttons, Bauer wouldn’t be able to hold back. His combination of arrogance, success, and testosterone made him a melting pot of emotion.

  Not what Hunter needed right now.

  “Did you set up potential disagreements between them? Arrange for them to be in the same place at the same time so that they could have a public argument?”

  “Whatever was good for business.” Bauer shrugged as if everyone should have that perspective in life. “Amos has been my ticket to success for a while now. After things fell apart in Vegas, I came back here looking for new ideas. Amos and I went to school together, and after he told me what he was trying to do, the rest is history. We were the perfect team—at least until he didn’t want to expand.”

  “Why didn’t he want to expand?” Hunter was intrigued.

  “You should ask him about that. We had massive conference rooms ready to be booked out on a national tour, and people were willing to pay through the roof just to talk to him. Amos was the next big thing; faith healing was the next trend. Everything he did was starting to go viral. Even one of the testimonials went viral on Instagram—a before and after shot of a client with a bad back. I had worked so hard to get the Faith Healing Project to that level of success, and it was time to expand. People were ready to be convinced about the power of faith healing. They wanted to believe.”

  “Do you?”

  “It’s not about what I believe.” Bauer smiled. “It’s about how many patients I can sell it to.”

  A barely dressed girl ran onto the stage, picked up a towel that she had left on the ground, looked down at Bauer, and winked before she tiptoed away.

  He smiled proudly.

  “I did have plans to make his name e
ven bigger, although that’s going to be very hard to do now, whether he’s found innocent of this crime or not. I wanted his name to become synonymous with faith healing. I wanted his name to go down in history. We were in a perfect position; the timing was just right. Amos was ready to be the leader of a new wave of healing. We could’ve been massive.”

  “While you took your cut.”

  “Of course. I’m doing the hard work, and I deserve my cut of his success. I’ll still push ahead with the new wave of healers, even if Amos is locked up for life.” He looked around the room to see if anyone else was around, before leaning closer to Hunter. “And I’ll tell you this right now: if they put me on the stand, then you can be guaranteed that I’ll say anything that’s in my best interest. Right now, my best interests are to tell the truth and state that I saw Amos at the end of that alley on February 1st, but I’ll change that story if I need to. I’ll even blame you for the murder if it’s in my best interests. I’ll say anything. I’d be happy to lie in court.”

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  “I don’t care about your rules. I don’t play your game. I make my living out here, in some of the most dangerous parts of the country. I’m not scared of an oath in court. You should step out into the real world, and find out that most of us have to scrape and fight to survive. It’s instinct.”

  “Your testimony better align with Amos’ statement. If not, then you’re sending your star directly to prison. If you make a mistake up on the stand, then it’ll be Amos that pays the price. I need a guarantee that’ll you stick to that story.”

  “You won’t get a guarantee from me; I’ll do what’s in my best interest.”

  Men like Lucas Bauer had no regard for truth, justice, or the law; something Hunter never understood. Hunter’s respect for the law, even when it betrayed his morals, was insurmountable.

  “At least I’ve still got this show, the burlesque, but it won’t make much money.” Bauer grinned slyly. “But that’s not why I do it, if you know what I mean.”

 

‹ Prev