The Case

by Lee Cunningham

  But now, several months later, on this day, Heath was still lying in bed, having gone over these same thoughts a thousand times before. He pulled the covers over his head and tried to go back to sleep one last time. But he knew the phone would be ringing, and he knew he was going to have to go soon. He just lay there afraid, not knowing how there would ever be a way out.

  He reflected, over and over, how dangerous the game he had been playing had recently become. Any mistake on his part would result in him…or someone else, being killed. These were ruthless people he had come to know. They were his new “family,” he thought mockingly, and he didn’t like them much, except for Hector.

  The phone rang, next to his bed. It was Bobby, notifying Heath of a meeting at the usual place. Heath would meet Bobby at a mom and pop liquor store in the center of town. The store had a large supply of adult magazines, and Bobby liked to look at the pictures, while he talked quietly with Heath, and drank his 18 oz. “Oly Gold” beer.

  The store was old and run down, just like the owners. But the owners looked the other way, if you bought a beer or a pint of whiskey, and you drank while you looked at their magazines. They didn’t really care, even though it was illegal. But then, they looked like they didn’t care much about much of anything. They had found their “niche” in life long ago, and they just wanted the money, and to look the other way. No worries and no hassles. And often they even received small tips, left on the counter by their eclectic group of oddball clients.

  A person could walk through the store on any given afternoon, and see a handful of people from all walks of life, from construction workers to truck drivers to district court judges, all stashing their drink of choice on a shelf, and sipping it occasionally, while they looked at provocative pictures in their chosen porn magazine. Some people would spend their entire lunch break in the store, and then pay for the open container on their way out, leaving it on the shelf they had used to conceal it.

  Heath thought it so odd that the customers almost always left the “empty” on the shelf. He had never seen anything like it before. But Bobby told him it was one of the best kept secrets in Carson City, and on Heath’s first day there, Bobby pointed out a local judge, who often came in around noon on his workdays. Heath had since seen the judge in the store many times, while meeting with Bobby. The man made him nervous. After all, he thought, he is a judge, even if he isn’t a very honorable one.

  But Heath dreaded these meetings with Bobby now, so he slowly got out of bed, showered and took his time dressing, and driving to the meet. He wanted to give Bobby time to look at his “magazine girls,” and drink his beer, so hopefully the meeting could be short. He didn’t even want to be here in Carson City, but found himself committed. Now, he had to be here. He had no choice…he was trapped.

  Heath took a shower, dressed, and sat in his pick-up. He marveled at how he had thought he was free, but now found that the meth world had imprisoned him, once again. He was bought and paid for…in far too deep to leave now, especially now, with everything that had recently happened. He drove on to the liquor store and parked. There were several cars in the little parking lot, and one of them Heath recognized as belonging to the district court judge.

  “Nothing like adding a little irony to the meeting,” Heath thought. “Ex-cons, drug dealers and judges, hiding their drinking, while getting excited over the girly magazines together. One big, dysfunctional family.” He laughed to himself.

  Heath found Bobby in the usual spot, with his 18-oz. beer tucked away on a shelf, just out of sight. Bobby was chuckling while holding a magazine sideways, looking at the unfolded center feature. Bobby grinned and showed the centerfold to Heath.

  “This issue is all short, Asian girls with big tits!” he beamed. “Do you know how much money we could have made on this one magazine, when we were in the joint?” He chuckled wildly, “We could have rented it out by the hour, and made major bank!” Bobby laughed.

  Heath said, somewhat disapprovingly, “I couldn’t have touched it after the first day. Can you imagine what condition it would have been in after some of those ‘pervs’ handled it? You wouldn’t have been able to pull the sticky pages apart!” Heath shuddered, shaking his entire body, and closing his eyes in disgust.

  Bobby just laughed and teased him more. He then nodded in the direction of the judge, saying, “He’s into tall, black chicks with shaved boxes, today.”

  Heath shook his head in disbelief, and offered only, “Why?”

  Bobby kept taunting Heath and finally said, “You’re just too much of a prude, man. Lighten up and take a gander. You might enjoy it.”

  Bobby gestured toward the magazine section, featuring women with grotesquely large breasts, involved in “XXX Action.” These features were further separated into various ethnic groups, ending with a lesbian section.

  He said, “Man, this is the one place where there’s absolutely no racism. You could be a one-legged, purple-skinned, bald, midget, lesbian, biker-bitch covered in tattoos, but as long as you got tits and a pussy, someone’s buying your photos, and appreciating you for exactly who you are.” He laughed heartily and watched for a response, waiting for a reply from Heath.

  Heath finally said, “If I were so inclined to read one of these, it would be in the privacy of my own bedroom. This place gives me the creeps.” Heath gestured at a dorky looking, skinny, unkempt, middle-aged man searching through the section titled, “Young and Firm.” The man scanned the magazines briefly, rubbing his long fingers over the titles on each one, before he settled on one from a selection that read, “Young Taboo!” The girls on the cover appeared to be aged in the single digits.

  Heath shuddered again, saying, “I wouldn’t even want to imagine what turns that ‘perv’ on, or what he does when he leaves here.”

  Bobby laughed hard, tears streaming down his cheeks. People began to look their way. Even the judge looked at them, and then left his beer on the rack and walked to the cash register to pay and leave. He seemed nervous that someone was laughing, instead of “enjoying” the unusual ambiance, quietly and secretly.

  “I’m just not a kindred spirit,” Heath thought aloud, as he stared back at the scowling judge. “His Honor is completely without honor.” The judge seemed to have read his lips and walked faster, his nose in the air.

  When Bobby was done teasing Heath, and finished drinking his beer, he paid at the register and tipped the old lady at the counter a $5 bill, which she pocketed without even looking up at him.

  Heath noted the woman appeared to be 65 or 70, but looked much older...and hardened. She was thin and sickly looking, with not just a little too much beer gut, flanked by doll-thin arms and legs. She wore flip flops that smacked the linoleum as she shuffled her feet about. She likely hadn’t washed the faded print dress she wore, for quite some time.

  Heath recalled seeing her in the same outfit every time he had been in the store. And each time he had seen it, the frock displayed the same tomato sauce stain, perched proudly atop her left breast, that screamed, “Look at me! You have to look at me…again!” He shuddered once more, as he walked past the woman. A grotesque combination of grease, stale cigarettes, beer, and perfume wafted after him as he walked by.

  Bobby walked out ahead of him, and said, “My kind of place! They don’t even want to look you in the eye on the way out. They just don’t care what you do! Definitely, my kind of place!! Why, you could even jack off in there, and no one would care. Some of the clientele might even enjoy the show!!”

  When they got to Bobby’s car, they got in and sat in the parking lot. Bobby immediately began talking business. Heath listened, while he watched the street traffic on the busy main street to their right. The traffic seemed never ending. There were soccer moms in vans toting loads of kids, truckers from every company, salesmen, delivery vehicles, and all the folks from the rest of the world, whirling by at breakneck speed. Heath thought it odd that they didn’t even realize what kind of a place they were driving by each day.<
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  A sheriff’s unit suddenly sped by with wailing siren, trying to stop a speeding motorcycle. Heath watched these vehicles and imagined that the normal people driving by, would cringe at knowing what evil lurked in the shadows of buildings, like this old, dirty, perverted liquor store. But if they realized that some of the nice houses in their neighborhoods lodged the store’s perverted customers, they would likely sell out and move.

  But then, as Heath reflected on the thought, he knew that evil was present in some form everywhere. He was experienced enough to recognize evil when he saw it. He had lived in its depths for years, as a druggy. Most people were blind to evil, not recognizing it, even when they saw it up close. And most refused to look for it.

  Heath recalled one of his dad’s favorite quotes: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

  He thought that the author should have added, “Good men have to be watchful and aware, to recognize evil, so they can do something about it.”

  After all, they had just been in a liquor and porn shop, where the owners allowed open containers to be consumed, by perverts, in violation of a host of alcohol laws. And a certain district court judge was not doing something about it…he was participating in it, and adding to the problem! Afterward he would go back to his court room, continue fantasizing over naked amazon women with shaved boxes, feeling a little tipsy from the two large beers he consumed on his lunch break, and give some poor slob a sentence for committing some crime.

  And all the while, the honor-less judge had been standing next to an obvious pedophile, and two guys involved in major narcotics trafficking. To make matters worse, this was the Nevada state capitol! Heath shuddered again, in disgust, as Bobby droned on.

  Heath thought, that if it weren’t for the trained and dedicated cops, and a handful of good solid citizens, who took all the risks to ferret out crime and stop it, there would be no society at all, and criminals would eventually take over everything, including government. Heath considered what a world run by criminals would be like, and then realized it might be the world he was living in already! He laughed out loud, without thinking. Bobby stopped talking, and asked, “Did I say something funny?”

  Heath said, “No. I just had some funny thoughts.”

  Bobby frowned, and said, “I was talking about Big John’s murder, and how pissed Hector and Franky are that we haven’t found any information about who did it, and why! What’s funny about that?!” Bobby was obviously irritated, and Heath had to recover fast.

  He held up his hands, and said, “Hey, you put the thoughts in my mind! I can’t stop thinking about what a one-legged, purple-skinned, bald, midget, lesbian biker-bitch, covered in tattoos, might look like. Does she have big tits, too?” He smiled at Bobby.

  Bobby busted up laughing, and said, “She must have big tits. Her tits are so big, she can barely stand up! We got a shelf to put our beers on!” They both laughed, Heath pretending it was funny, but, genuinely relieved he had dodged a bullet.

  Bobby began talking about Big John’s murder again, and asked Heath to contact all the Sacramento dealers and press them hard to see if anyone had any information. Something this big was bound to be spread around. Sacramento was a big part of the business now. Franky said someone there had to know something. Heath promised Bobby he would make the calls and get back to him. He knew it would be useless though, because no one would know anything.

  Before the meeting ended, Bobby said, “I know we pulled you in a couple of weeks ago to run some outside counter surveillance for us, and you haven’t had a night off in more than two weeks. Hector and Franky want you to keep it up for another couple of days before we shut it down, just to make sure everything is quiet. We rented the doctor’s house next door for another two days. Last week, Hector gave him and his girlfriend an extra ten days on us at the resort, so keep using the house. And keep coming over the rear yard fence, so no one sees you on the street. That’s working out well. None of our guys even know you’re there!”

  Bobby continued, “Isn’t it funny that we brought you in to make sure there were no problems with any of the cartels, after our takeover in Sacramento, just because Franky was afraid that something might happen to Hector and Anna’s baby. We put you so close, right next door, and nothing happens to the baby, but Big John gets murdered.”

  “We put you close enough to watch over the house and the baby’s room, but not far enough away to see someone setting up down the street, so you could prevent one of our own guys from being taken out by a hitman with a sniper rifle. Fuck!”

  “And then, the kicker is, we hire a guy to shoot this fucking cop and Undersheriff, and that guy gets killed. It has to be one of the rival cartels. Franky and Hector are so pissed! This will be a full-scale war, when we find out who’s behind this shit! It’s like I told you in prison, you never know where the threat’s coming from, so you always gotta watch your back.”

  Heath nodded in agreement, and started to get out of the car. Bobby grabbed him by the arm, and said, “Hector wants you to have this. You’ve earned it, buddy!” Bobby grinned, and handed him a manila envelope.

  Heath took it and said, “Thanks, man.” He knew what would be inside, even before it was opened. They shook hands, thumbs up, and then bumped each other’s knuckles. Heath walked to his pick-up, as Bobby drove past him, making a motion with his hand and tongue like he was sucking a penis. Bobby burst out laughing, as Heath shook his head in disgust. He shuddered again. Bobby gave him the creeps, too.

  Heath opened the envelope in the safety of his truck. There was a bundle of money in typical hundred-dollar bills. A typed note indicated, “$40K bonus. Thanks. Keep it up! H.” Heath realized, for the first time, that the money that purchased the meth he had arranged for Hector to sell, from Mexico, to Nevada, to Sacramento, had come all the way back to him, from Sacramento, to Carson City, as payment for his services here. It was dirty, diseased, drug money, and it was all his. He didn’t even want to touch it…but he did.

  “Pretty ironic,” he thought. Bobby and Hector had brought Heath in to help, after Big John had discovered that someone had been feeding their guard dogs. As the guards made their rounds one night, they discovered the dogs eating by the fence, with some of the food still on the lawn. The guards had just missed whoever it was, and Big John was concerned, especially due to the expected birth of Hector’s first born, little Franky.

  Bobby and Hector had phoned, and asked Heath to come in from Sacramento immediately. He was there the next day. They had set him up for counter surveillance, using the doctor’s house next door. They hadn’t even told their own people at the compound about Heath, fearing that one of their own might be involved. They had always expected retaliation from a rival cartel, as they took over more and more business, expanding their territory, muscling out the competition. And they feared one of their own might defect, to move up the ladder with the new cartel.

  So far, the only thing Heath had discovered was that his own brother, Shane, was conducting surveillance on Bobby, Hector and Franky. He had seen Shane drive by the house, on occasion, and had watched him sitting in his car, night after night, watching the compound. Bobby had told Heath they knew about a planned cop surveillance, and that the undercover cop’s name was Dan Harrington, according to their paid informant at the Sheriff’s office.

  Heath knew, from listening to Shane over the years, that Shane would never use his real name when he worked undercover. Bobby said Hector planned on killing the cop, and stashing his body in an abandoned mine shaft in the desert, after they tortured him for information. Bobby had told him they had used the same mine shaft, several times before. Heath recalled, again, how he had secretly panicked, not knowing what to do.

  He knew he needed to protect his brother. He knew Big John’s reputation from all the stories Bobby had told him in prison, even before he knew Big John’s name. And now that Heath had become one of the family, Bobby had told him more of Big John’s exploit
s. Big John terrified him. The man was a sadist and sociopath...a psychopath on steroids. Heath knew, well enough, exactly what would happen to Shane, if he were captured.

  Big John would shoot Shane in both kneecaps, and then, further torture him, using pliers to rip Shane’s fingers off, one by one, until Shane spilled his guts about everything. Bobby had told Heath how Big John laughed, as he twisted and pulled the joints off people’s fingers, while they screamed and pleaded in agony. And once the digit finally broke and separated, Bobby said the skin was the last to hold anything together. Big John would laugh uncontrollably, as he pulled and stretched the skin to its point of rupture. When that gave way, blood spurted out everywhere. He said Big John was fascinated by the spurting blood, wiping it on his victim’s face, using the victim’s severed finger, he held in his own hand.

  Heath had known he really didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t tell Shane he was here, in Carson City, working for Hector, Franky and Bobby. And he couldn’t tell Shane he was involved in meth trafficking in Sacramento for them. Nor could he allow Big John to capture, torture and kill his brother. He was stuck, knowing he had to protect Shane at all costs, and knowing he had to figure a way out of this for himself. Once again, he had screwed up, but this time he was going to make it right.

  Then one night, a week ago, Heath had watched from the doctor’s house, while Shane walked into the doctor’s yard. He had watched helplessly, as Shane fed the dogs, vaulted the fence into the compound, climbed up a tree, and entered the house. After quite a while, Shane still hadn’t come out. Heath seized the opportunity. He had already typed out a note to warn Shane, using a blank business card he had previously prepared on the motel’s old typewriter.