A Ghost of Justice

by Jon Blackwood

  "Look," the policeman said. "There is the evidence he was working for you, looking for your fugitive. You know you can't pay him or anyone else to go kill Hardy for you. You see, that's your job under the law. So what were you going to have him do? Have him kill Hardy anyway and risk jail time and his license? How much were you paying him?"

  "Dammit, sergeant, I told you: I did not hire Roy Parker. I don't know who…" Eric stopped and looked at Emily. "You?"

  "What?" she croaked, her mouth still dry from hearing about it. "With what money? And I didn't like the idea of him showing up at all."

  Yates said, "You didn't like Mr. Parker, Ms Sheafer?"

  "That's not what I said," she protested, shaking her head. "I don't even know the man. What I didn't like was the way he came in and told us what to do and wouldn't even say who sent him."

  "Well, do you have any idea who may have hired him? Is there anyone who would want to help you find Hardy?"

  "Oh, God," Emily said in a moan. "Dad, you don't think Mrs. Morgan hired him?"

  "I hope not," he said. "She can't afford him any more than we can."

  "Who's she?" Yates demanded.

  "She is my son's mother-in-law. Um, I guess you need the background. My son and his wife were murdered by a man named John Hardy. They said he was a vagrant. The Morgans were looking for him in Tennessee when Mr. Morgan had a heart attack. So they're having a rough time of it. That's Don and Mary Alice Morgan. I can give you the contact info."

  Yates made a note on his pad. "We’ll check on that. Is there any other family or friend who could have brought Parker into this case?"

  Eric sighed. "Well, I guess my father could have done it. He has enough money. But whether or not Dad would have thought of it, I can't say. My mother is an invalid and it takes most of his time taking care of her or seeing to her care."

  "Invalid?"

  "Intractable Alzheimer’s Syndrome."

  "Intractable?"

  "Unresponsive to treatment."

  "I see. Well, I suppose we can get the Greensboro police to check out Parker's office. We can find out that way rather than bother everybody."

  "Thanks. We'd appreciate that. It'd probably be quicker, too," Eric said.

  Emily caught on to what Yates said. "Wait a minute. You said 'Greensboro police?' Was Parker from there?"

  "Yes. Didn't you know? I guess he really didn't tell you much at all, did he?"

  "That's what we've been telling you," she said, badly wanting a drink for her parched mouth. A beer, at least. "Do you have any idea who killed him?"

  "Not yet, Ms Sheafer. But we'll let you know. Got your n-web addresses from Parker's records."

  "Do you think it was John Hardy?"

  Yates shook his head. "I don't know, Ms Sheafer. It seems unlikely that Hardy did it. But we hope to find out soon." He pressed his PDM without activating it. "I've just sent my contact info to your PDMs. It will be in your address folder under 'Henrico County Police.' If you think of anything, just let me or the e-cop know."

  "Thank you, sergeant. We will."

  29

  The policeman gone, Eric sighed deeply. Going to the wall com unit, he tapped it and requested room service. Emily raised an eyebrow when her normally tee totaling father asked for some cold beers.

  He caught the look and said, "I think we need them."

  "No kidding." She went to the adjoining door, opened it and flung her bag inside. Leaving it open, she slumped, unaccountably exhausted, against the frame, raising her hands to her face and shuddering.

  Eric came next to her, placing a gentle hand on her arm.

  But she didn't need comforting. Dropping her hands, she turned to him. "I'm okay." Going over to the room's bed, she sat and said, "What is going on? This guy pokes his way in out of the blue…" she waved away the word and corrected herself to include the current weather as she went on. "…the gray, tells us he knows where Hardy is, knows we're looking for him and why. How does he know all this and who the hell is…was he? And who the hell hired him?"

  "I'd like to know those answers myself, Em." He walked over to the window, pulled the curtain aside to look out, then dropped it back in place. Activating his PDM, he said, "Let's call Bob. Maybe he can guess. Maybe he even knows."

  But he stopped, letting the 'waiting' icon hover before him.

  "What is it?" Emily asked.

  "If Bob knew, he would have told me. We have our differences, but only in our chosen professions and some philosophical views. We're far too close for secrets."

  Emily thought for a second,, then concluded, "Call him anyway. You last talked to them on Tuesday and they might have thought of it since then. Maybe after Mr. Morgan got sick they got together and hired Parker as a group."

  Eric considered it. "No. Parker would not have been told to keep it from us. Whoever hired him doesn't want us to know. That is the curious question. Okay, let's add one more: Why would that person not want us to know about them?"

  She could only shrug. "Maybe if Bob knew about this he could help."

  To that he nodded. "Yeah. Plus I should update him." He pushed a finger through the floating icon and the keyboard and screen materialized on laser-excited molecules. Eric selected the com function and picked out Bob's n-address. The low pulsing tone sounded as they waited.

  "Damn," Emily exclaimed as a thought struck her.

  "What?"

  "This is all we need. We're out here to get John Hardy and this comes along to distract us. Maybe Hardy himself hired the guy to lead us off while he heads to the other side of the continent…or the world."

  Eric shook his head. "I think we're close, Em. Damned close. Furthermore, this looks like it may get more dangerous than I feared. Keep that gun loaded and on you."

  The soft tone stopped and Andrea appeared, saying, "Eric! Good to see you."

  "Hi. Yeah. We're okay. How about David? And the rest of you?"

  "Good as you can think. We're doing okay."

  "Is Bob there? I need to ask him something."

  Emily kept half an ear open to the conversation as a knock came at the door. Room service announced itself and she went to collect the beers, tipping the girl with a fifty. After closing the door and bringing the iced bucket to the table, she pulled one out, opened it and handed it to her father. Opening the other, she took a long drink from it.

  As it sounded like Bob knew nothing and the conversation became more mundane, she tuned it out and pulled out the little eight-millimeter pistol. Looking it over, she brought out the clip and slipped it in the handle. The combination was a tight fit inside her jeans pocket so she tried it in her jacket. It went in easily, but the pocket was too shallow to hold it securely.

  She went into her room, fished a sock out of her bag and stuffed it next to the gun. The result was fairly good, as long as she didn't run or jump. She would have to remember that and hold it in her hand if she had to do any chasing. Maybe she would go buy a jacket with better pockets tomorrow. She set the pistol on the bed and removed her jacket, draping it on the back of a chair.

  Holding the pistol up, she removed the clip and checked the chamber to make sure it was empty. Then she aimed at a lamp across the room and pulled the trigger. It was a satisfyingly solid-sounding click.

  She wished it was loaded and the lamp had been Hardy's head. That, she felt, would have been satisfying. She reinserted the clip and returned it to her jacket pocket.

  Eric winked out the PDM. "Well, none of them have a clue. But he'll see what he can do. I told him the police there were to search Parker's office and would probably know sometime soon. I told him to contact them."

  "Did you speak to David?"

  "No. He's with Frank and Tricia." A check on the time and Eric added, "Probably in bed now, too." Then he sighed. "Andrea said he got into a fight at school."

  "About what?" She stepped back into Eric's room.

  "She doesn't know fully. It was in the cafeteria. Tricia is going to see the principal tomorrow. I
got the impression that it wasn't serious. Just a bunch of shoving. At any rate, no one was hurt."

  "That's good." Emily couldn't think of anything else to say.

  In the silence there was another knock on the door.

  They glanced at their beers, which they had in hand, so it wasn't room service. They looked at each other. Emily was closest, so she asked who it was.

  "Sergeant Yates, Ms Sheafer."

  She opened the door and the policeman stepped inside. His PDM was on in 'mini' mode. Again the tobacco odor assaulted Emily's nostrils.

  "I won't take up much of your time. As Parker was, in essence, working for you, then I am sending these to your PDMs. It's all his records on your case, including transcripts of voice recordings." He typed a couple of characters on the virtual keyboard and stabbed the SEND key. "Maybe these will help you search out Hardy. And, who knows? It might give you insight on who contracted with Parker." Yates stepped back out in the hall. "Remember. Give me a call if you come up with anything."

  "Right, sergeant," Eric said. "And thank you."

  Yates gave a friendly semi-salute, pulled the door closed and was gone.

  Emily activated her unit and pulled up the documents. Most of it was stuff they already knew from the trial transcript summary: Hardy's full name, place of birth, age, appearance, family info, and the like. Nothing helpful, except to suggest that Parker's client knew no more than they did.

  "Look at this," her father said, spinning his hologram so she could see. He pointed a finger at a line of data. It was the address of Hardy's parents. Next to it Parker had noted that it wasn't worth checking. A contact had seen nothing unusual for two straight nights. Parker had not said what nights those had been. That brought to Emily's mind the question of when Parker was hired. The answer to that might help the sergeant's investigation.

  Eric had continued scrolling through the data while she thought. Then he announced, "Jackpot!"

  "What?" She repositioned herself to see.

  "Right here." He was pointing halfway down the page.

  She read aloud, "'Hardy ? among congr Wed nite Cary St Non D Ch. Accuracy 90%. Contact reliable, same saw target. To check. If good, contact sub clients.' I guess the latter means us."

  "Who else? He goes on to say his contact watched Hardy leave the church and head east."

  "Did the contact follow him?"

  "No. Parker says he cited 'personal obligations' kept them from going."

  "I wonder what that means."

  "Doesn't say here. Parker just goes on to speculate that this narrows the search to the southeast section of downtown Richmond, north side of the river. Parker meant it when he said he was booking us in the middle of where he thought Hardy was."

  "Damn. You mean it's possible we could just walk out and bump into the bastard?"

  Eric shrugged. "Maybe. We'd better not count on it." He reached a hand over and squeezed her shoulder. "But we are so close we're practically on top of him."

  "So where do we start?"

  Eric grunted, then closed the Parker file. Pulling up the local addresses, he said, "Tonight we work your plan: go out and look around. Tomorrow, if we need to, we go to this church. I have a feeling Parker's contact may very well be the minister."

  "'Personal obligations?'"

  "Exactly."

  30

  Just after eleven PM, the Sheafers came out the front entrance to find Richmond covered with patchy fog drifting up from the James River. The air was still and damp and penetratingly cold.

  Emily exhaled and her breath condensation hung a moment before reluctantly drifting off. "Do you think we can find him in this mess?"

  Eric tilted his head. "May as well try. I know we're close, Em. He has to be here somewhere. I can almost feel him."

  That last made her stare at his profile. Her father had never been a hunter, at least not that she knew, except for archeological sites. And that sounded just like what a hunter might say. "Where do you want to try?" She reached behind her neck and pulled the hood up and over her head as far as it would go.

  "He had gone into the UNC-G campus that night when they got him, right?"

  Emily nodded.

  "He had also gone to school there. So he seems to like college campuses. Particularly ones he's familiar with. Let's choose: Virginia Commonwealth or Medical College of Virginia? Which one first?”

  "Which one's closest?"

  "Actually, they border on each other and we can go from one into the other. Come on."

  Emily followed him down to Ninth Street and then left along the border of the Virginia Capitol grounds. The equestrian statue of George Washington shone bright, wet and hazy in the spotlights. The haze prevented her from seeing the seams of the earthquake damage repairs or any graffiti.

  Emily took to making a constant visual sweep for places a person might scavenge for food.

  Then Eric turned right onto Grace Street instead of going on to the normally busier Broad Avenue. She asked why.

  “If you were afraid of being recognized, which way would you go?"

  "But there's hardly anyone out," she protested.

  "Just keep your eyes open."

  Emily went back to scanning. To their right they were passing the Capitol's garden. She strained to see among the shadows, but the fog lay thick here, obliterating details.

  Eventually they ended up at Broad. All five lanes were thickly shrouded, but traffic was nonexistent and they crossed it easily.

  "The Medical College is up here on the right," Eric said.

  They walked a few feet more when a police car swept silently by, its roofline light strips flashing creating a glowing blue cloud around it in the fog. It quickly disappeared.

  Hardy still felt nervous, even as he settled down to eat. His chest heaved with each breath. He wondered at the pounding of his heart. Sure, all those police cars behind the Murata-H were startling, but Hardy never got close. No one would have seen him, so no need to be nervous. Indeed, he didn't feel any more nervous than normal. He had simply turned away from the scene to a vending station and got a candy bar out of the machine. He had found a half-empty drink bottle on the curb, but it was frozen. He had it in his pocket, hoping to thaw it with his body heat, such as it was.

  He huddled on the bench and tried to relax. He coughed once, but it seemed to be nothing. The night wasn’t too cold, at least not as cold as it had been.

  Towers dominated the campus of MCV, filtering out the worst of the fog. They moved through the well-lit grounds quickly, seeing no one of the right size. After fifteen minutes they moved on to the larger, but not as well lit, Commonwealth University.

  Eric stopped at the intersection of Eleventh and Clay. Pointing off to the left, he said, "The police station is just over there."

  Skeptical, she asked, "Would he venture this close to it?"

  "Maybe. They aren't going to do more than report it if they sight him. And they may not pay attention to a bum on the street causing no trouble. There's a lot of them in this economy. Could equal the population of California or New York, nationwide."

  "I suppose," Emily said. She stayed close, studying the street and buildings carefully.

  Clay dead-ended into Twelfth and they found themselves staring at the top level of an old parking garage set into a gully below.

  "I think that bears checking," Eric observed.

  "That's what we're hear for," she agreed. "You take the right side, I'll go down the left."

  Hardy chewed on the bar and swallowed. As it went down, his chest heaved, leading to a coughing spasm. He figured it was from eating the candy dry.

  He pulled the bottle out and tried a sip. Only a few drops came out. He barely needed to swallow any of it. But they helped him to salivate, making it easier to finish the bar.

  On the bottom level of the garage they joined up.

  "Nothing," Emily reported, her father echoing with a shake of his head. "Shall we walk back up in case we missed something?" she said.<
br />
  "No. Let's take the elevator," he said, pointing at the glassed-in room at the center. When they reached it, he grumbled at the sign that demanded fifteen dollars for the elevator to work.

  "Don't pay it," she insisted. "Let's take the stairs."

  He didn't say anything in protest, just turning away from the greedy elevator.

  When they reached the Clay Street level, he glanced at his PDM watch. "One AM. Let's move in the general direction of the hotel. Take our time. That'll put us past two, maybe three by the time we get there and it's been an ugly day."

  "Okay by me," she agreed, though Emily felt they could go an hour longer than that. Maybe more. But to go along with her father, with more than a little truth, she said, "That business about Parker has just about done me in."

  "Me to, Em."

  From him it sounded like an absolute truth.

  They turned up the street back toward Broad, passing the Confederate Museum.

  Emily stopped short by the iron gate to the garden. She pushed the hood back off her head. Not sure herself, but afraid to miss anything, she said quietly, "Did you hear something?"

  Eric put his hand on her shoulder and stayed silent.

  A muffled cough barely penetrated the thick air. She had heard it. "There it is again," Emily whispered.

  They peered into the garden. In the soft reflection of the floodlights, Emily was able to see the fuzzy shadow of someone sitting on a corner bench.

  Eric pulled her behind a bush, careful to make no noise. "Listen," he said in a voice of normal tone, but somehow softer than a whisper. "Maybe it's him, but maybe it's not. Keep your gun in your pocket until we know for certain."

  Emily nodded, putting her hand on it inside her jacket pocket.

  "What I want you to do," he said, outlining their strategy, "is wait here until you see me at the other entrance to the garden. I'll wave to you, just a little one. He won't see it because I'll be behind him. Then we both ease in, keeping to the sides. Got that?"

  She nodded again.