Justice Black: The Game Never Ends

by Gartia Bansah

  “So? You black bastard, you figure it out. You and the rest of these jigger boos that can’t even speak English can go straight to hell.” Jarrod spit, barely missing Justice.

  It took Jarrod a second to realize he’d made a terrible mistake. As if struck by lightning, he was sprawled on the floor with Justice standing over him.

  “Why don’t you try that again? Get up!”

  “OK, OK,” Jarrod wheezed. He picked up his bulky body from the floor and sat back in the chair.

  Jarrod wiped blood from his mouth and took a deep breath before he stared into Justice’s dark, expressionless eyes.

  “Jarrod, you need to know I’m done. You look at me when you talk, and you stop when I say so.”

  Jarrod fought hard for his bowels not to release but found energy to talk. “I learned about Legion from Cutter.” Jarrod nervously shook his left leg as he told his story. “Legion believes in an America with a new world order without those special laws. I couldn’t afford the seed money to start my own township, and the idea of selling drugs scheduled to be destroyed seemed good.” He looked away but quickly remembered and turned back to face Justice. “That stronghold in WhiteFlower was a great financial loss. There has to be a payback. Legion needs children for seed money. Most are sold in private bidding arenas to middlemen who represent shareholders. Others are sold through the Internet using antique furniture names as codes.”

  Justice believed the fire could also be a distraction. “Now that’s brilliant, a real pedophile organization.” A real sleazy husk of a man, he thought again.

  Jarrod tried to read Justice’s reaction but couldn’t. Shamefully, Jarrod briefly dropped his head. “It’s a business, man,” he explained.

  “What does Cutter look like?”

  Justice knew about the man called Cutter, they’d been chasing him for five years with no luck finding him. Cutter was Dallas Righter, also known as David Ransom. His specialty was the use of the knife in extracting information and making deals. At age ten he killed his first victim, his mother’s husband. He woke the man from his sleep before stabbing him. Cutter’s reason was he wanted him to see who brought death to him. Any composite images of Cutter shown to the public hadn’t turn up any leads. He had been careful, no tattoos, no piercings, nothing. It was if he’d vanished off the face of the earth.

  “Honestly, I never met Cutter. For security reasons, no one gives their real name. We communicated business deals through the Internet and proxies.”

  “That business sale included your own daughter?” He didn’t need an answer; it was in Jarrod’s face. “I suppose your brother at the airport helped bypass the passport clearances?”

  Jarrod’s head throbbed, and his hands trembled. The room grew smaller and hotter. His brother was weak and would never survive any questioning.

  Jarrod’s surprise at hearing that was good. That brother was his Achilles’ heel.

  “Could I have a cigarette?” he asked.

  “Smoking is frowned upon in this country. You know that.”

  After nearly ten hours of questioning, Jarrod sat quietly; his mouth was dry and sore.

  “So you’ve never met the chairman?” Justice asked.

  “No. I swear. I’m a good person. I mean, what good would it do for me to lie to you now?” He’d never tell. They’d kill his family if he did.

  Justice stood, measured Jarrod’s worth, and thought, We don’t see ourselves as others see us.

  “None. And no, you’re not a good person.”

  “Sir, are you coming back?”

  “Jarrod, if this is your idea of a stall, you’ve wasted your time.”

  The guard was back and stood quietly next to Justice.

  “Move him,” Justice ordered.

  The guard with skin like polished ebony wood smiled at Jarrod. “Get up, jigger boo.”

  chapter

  SEVEN

  BrightTown, United States, two days later

  The evening air was unusually humid for fall. The meeting earlier with the mayor and town council had grated on Justice’s nerves. Between Tevis and the director of the chamber of commerce, Genevieve Pell, he had a migraine. God Almighty, is she going to cry again through the meeting? He hoped not. Genevieve had been head of the chamber of commerce for the past ten years and did a great job attracting tourists to BrightTown.

  “Deny, deny, and deny there was a problem here in BrightTown,” Dan offered. “Watch this guy blame the workers.”

  Mayor Tevis Mitchell stood before the cameras in his public affairs gray suit, repeating his scripted public speech.

  “It is believed drugs may have played a part in the fire. Lab reports showed the worker, John Paul, a disgruntled employee, tested positive for opiates.” The mayor went on to say, “I will put pressure on businesses to do more drug testings and train workers on safety issues. This unfortunate accident at Rodney’s Place will not be tolerated. Please, everyone, let’s move away from this unfortunate tragedy and prepare for the Halloween festival.”

  “Bingo. What a joker. Unfortunate tragedy?” Dan scowled. “Give me a break.” They’d already scrambled earlier, trying to rectify the mayor’s callous remarks.

  “I guess it doesn’t matter that John Paul and Jamie Woods died in that fire,” Justice added.

  Justice stepped in front of the reporter to clean up Tevis’s statement. “I want to make it clear lab results are still pending, and it cannot be said that drugs played a role in the fire. Right now we are looking at it as arson.”

  Mitchell had won the election by default; the other candidate had failed to show up for the debates. At fifty-nine Mitchell held his youthful looks. Most women liked his looks; most men liked him for his open cynicism about practically everything walking. Some boasted of his gun marksmanship and car racing trophies. His wife, Mavis, was thirty-two years younger, attractive, charming, and had a lot of influence. Everyone liked her. She donated to a lot of charities and oftentimes appeared at functions on behalf of the mayor.

  “What the hell is wrong with that man? Everyone knows the back door was blocked. Does Tevis think everybody is a fool?”

  Justice shrugged. “Perhaps.” He didn’t like Mitchell’s accusation that John Paul had drugs in his system or was disgruntled. His interviews with the workers showed John Paul to be well liked, and everyone said he kepts his body in shape. The lab had sent contradictory drug reports on John Paul, one positive for drugs, one negative. When BrightTown’s lab and coroner were questioned, it was blamed on clerical error.

  “Do you have anything on the shooter yet, Justice?”

  “Not yet.”

  Genevieve fidgeted in her seat, clearly worried about the mayor’s comment.

  “Dr. Black, I was at the children’s ward today, and my heart goes out to the families. We at the chamber of commerce will do what we can to make it easier for the workers and families. It is crucial that BrightTown not have a reputation as being unsafe and callous about human lives.”

  “Genevieve, I’m sure the family appreciates everything you are doing.”

  “I’m planning a fundraiser. In addition, an anonymous donor has taken care of all funeral expenses.” Fresh tears sat on the edges of her eyeslids, ready to flow. “Please, Dr. Black, let me know if the boy’s mother needs anything.”

  Dan readied himself to leave. He couldn’t take seeing a woman cry.

  “Justice, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, I’m leaving too.”

  When Justice reached his apartment, he pulled into the parking lot, sat, and thought about his life. During the last assignment, he’d taken a bullet graze to his shoulder. Someone making him a target was a reminder that if he worried about dying, he couldn’t do this job. The hearing didn’t bother him; he expected anything and everything to be thrown at him. But he was damn tired of politicians interfering in h
is job. At almost forty, he thought again about leaving everything and seeking solitude away from society. The air felt good as he stepped out of the car.

  When he reached his apartment, as a habit, without turning on the light, he automatically turned on the TV but then turned it off when the news flashed the mayor’s morning news conference. “I’ve heard that speech one too many times today.”

  He hated his temporary lodgings. Although he needed to make some changes to the original plans, his house should be ready before Thanksgiving, a few weeks from now. Finances didn’t give him many worries. His house sold for more than he’d expected, and he had a good salary. Besides helping his son, Jeremiah, through medical school, and his five sisters and parents when needed, he was frugal, and his bank account was hefty.

  Justice almost missed Jeremiah being in his life. Rayford had met him in WhiteFlower on one of Gracie’s house calls. At the time he was called J’miah, nearly fourteen and a runaway who’d bounced around foster homes until he finally took to the streets. The first time Rayford saw Jeremiah, he was shocked at the mirror image of Justice and took him to meet Jeremiah. Justice couldn’t explain it. When he saw Jeremiah, something pulled them together. He finally convinced Jeremiah to come live with him on a foster care trial.

  The treadmill beckoned him as usual, but tonight the call of the weights was stronger. With too much on his mind, he missed his foot by a fraction of an inch. The weights fell on the floor, and delicate pieces of glasses from the bar crashed to the floor. The two large parrots squawked and shrilled at a green movement that skittered across the oak desk, rustling papers on its way to the ceiling fan.

  “Aw hell, I forgot about the lizard.” He quickly leaped over a chair, which fell and activated the stereo, and suddenly the rich sounds of Kirk Whalum’s saxophone filled the room. He caught the lizard by its tail, only to bring up a piece.

  “Damn it to hell,” he swore again. “I need my head examined for buying that damn thing.” He searched the room, unable to see where it found convenient to hide. “Later for you, Seymour,” he said. “Make sure you don’t crawl over me in my sleep. You’ll be missing more than a tail.” He’d delayed long enough in giving those parrots—make that Seymour too—to Rayford’s kids. He just needed to convince the parents to take them.

  chapter

  EIGHT

  The doorbell woke Kaitlyn from the deep sleep she finally managed to get at two thirty this morning. Thank God the neighbor had been home only once—that is, until this morning. When she jumped and answered the door, a fastidiously dressed, attractive older woman with silver horn-rimmed glasses, wearing white knit pants and a pink cardigan, smiled at her. She was also holding two barking chihuahuas.

  “Hello, dear.” The woman grinned and brazenly walked inside. “I hope I am not intruding. I am Barrett Goods, your upstairs neighbor, and these are my babies, Cassie and Calvin.” A longtime resident of Serenity Place, Barrett personally met every new tenant, plus she wanted to see who exactly was the attractive woman Marvin Kennelson raved about during their morning breakfast.

  Shocked at Barrett’s boldness, and although it was a possibility she was the loud upstairs neighbor, Kaitlyn nevertheless saw friendliness. The dogs were different; she had to yell over their barking to speak.

  “Glad to meet you. Please come in. My name is Adeena Gianna Joseph. I am glad to meet you too, Cassie and Calvin.” Kaitlyn scratched each dog behind its ears, which stopped their barking. She believed they smiled.

  Barrett noticed Cassie and Calvin’s pleasant response to Kaitlyn. They were good judges of people.

  “Are you married, dear?”

  Taken aback by such a question, Kaitlyn responded, “No, I’m not. Why?”

  “No reason, dear. I’m a widow. I merely asked.” Barrett scanned the bare apartment. “You don’t have furniture?”

  “Yes, I do. The moving company hasn’t delivered it yet. It has been nearly two weeks.”

  Hearing her frustration, Barrett offered her sympathy. “Oh my, honey. What moving company did you use?”

  “Jackson’s Quick Arrival, which you can see is clearly a joke.”

  “I see. Listen, dear. I know the owner of that company. If you don’t mind, let me see what can be done.” Before she could answer, Barrett pulled out her phone and dialed the number. “Hi, Bert. Is Jackson around?” She smiled and kissed the top of each dog’s head as she waited to be connected. “Hi, Jackson. Barrett here. I am fine, thank you, and how’s Mattie?”

  Kaitlyn couldn’t hear everything, but she was excited that she just might be sleeping in her bed tonight surrounded by her own things.

  “Listen, Jackson. I’m appalled. You were to deliver furniture to Adeena Joseph over a week ago, and I am standing in her very bare apartment. Now what can be done within the next hour for it to be here, not there?”

  Amazing, Kaitlyn thought as she studied the formidable woman, and it struck her where she’d seen Barrett and her dogs. Barrett Goods was a philanthropist who loved the museum world and animal rescue charities. She had been in every society magazine and newspaper article Kaitlyn had ever read. She owned several furniture rental companies and two of the finest seafood restaurants here and in Dallas, not to mention H&B Goods Shipping, the largest domestic and international shipping company in this region.

  “Thank you, Jackson. I’m sure she will appreciate that. You and Mattie do come see me when you have a chance.” Barrett clipped her cell to her pant pocket with a big smile. “Now, dear, your things should be here within one hour.”

  “I am flabbergasted, Mrs. Goods. I don’t know how to thank you.” She hugged Barrett and patted the dogs’ heads.

  Barrett liked her. “Oh, don’t be silly. Call me Barrett. I know how it is to move into a new place and not have your things. It is absolutely horrible and not to mention inconvenient. I bet you slept on these floors? I tell you what, honey. Join me for dinner tonight, unless you have a date?”

  “No, no date,” Kaitlyn awkwardly answered her question.

  “Do you like lobster?”

  “Yes, I love seafood. Lobster is my favorite. Please let me at least bring the wine. I insist.”

  “All right,” Barrett agreed.

  Barrett looked at the antique centerpieces sitting lonely on the kitchen counter and smiled. “I see you like antiques. What lovely pieces those two are.”

  “Thank you and yes, I love antiques, especially dinnerware.”

  Barrett truly impressed with Kaitlyn’s interest said, “If you don’t mind, come with me. I want to show you some of my collections. You can watch for the truck from my place.”

  When they reached the apartment, Kaitlyn realized Barrett was not the noisy neighbor above her but lived in front of the jerk.

  Barrett saw her uneasiness.

  “Garland and I, along with some of the other tenants, are trying to meet with that neighbor tonight about his parrots and that unhealthy noise he made last night. I’m sure you don’t get any sleep with that mess above you. You have my sympathy. You don’t think he is abusing those parrots, do you?” Barrett was worried; she wouldn’t tolerate any sort of animal abuse.

  “Oh, I hope not. That would be awful,” Kaitlyn agreed. That was just what she needed: a drug-dealing beast living above her ceiling. “You’re right. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Well, Garland is one of the finest attorneys I know. Although he is semiretired, he handles most of my affairs. I’ll introduce you to him; he would know how to handle him.”

  Barrett’s apartment was amazing. There was an unusual amount of space. It looked as if two apartments had been merged into one, which made the front entrance a well-designed elongated parlor furnished with antique Queen Anne furniture accented with yellow curtains and pillows. A large red kimono stretched on a far wall, giving that room, which was accented with Oriental vases, a separate exotic look. Plenty of s
unshine entered into the apartment, providing a cheery, welcoming atmosphere to the expensive décor.

  “I see you like it,” Barrett said as Kaitlyn inspected the rooms with keen interest. “You see, I also know the owner of this complex, so I had this particular apartment remodeled to suit Cassie, Calvin, and me. So if there is anything that you need in your place, let me know.”

  Kaitlyn liked her. They spent the short time discussing the town’s antique houseware museum and the upcoming ballet. They became immediate friends.

  “Barrett, your place is gorgeous. I need to run and I will see you at five.” Kaitlyn stepped outside, overjoyed to see the Jackson Quick Arrival deliverymen at her door.

  “This is absolutely fantastic.” She unpacked as much as she could and barely made it back to Barrett in time for dinner. The two giggled about most everything and learned that they shared a love for opera. Barrett, a well-traveled woman, unabashedly shared that “before Herman,” she had had her share of good times and loved every adventure.

  “Adeena,” Barrett laughed, “I’ve lived longer than you, and I’ve loved men. Mind you, not any male, but the real men in that species. There is a huge difference, you’ll see. Wait until you meet my friend Genevieve. That woman knew how to love a man.” Barrett laughed at Kaitlyn’s obvious embarrassment. “Honey, you’re still young, but listen to me. The world never guarantees you any happiness; you have to have the wits to pursue it. I had fifty-six happy years with Herman. It broke my heart when he died, and I was mad with him for leaving me behind. If I could, I would have died with him, but he wouldn’t have wanted that. So I’ll enjoy life as long as I am able to do so.”

  “You never had children?”

  “No, we didn’t. I would have made a lousy mother and Herman an even lousier father. Children need time and patience; I never wanted to make room in my life for any. I was fortunate to find a man who felt the same way. We couldn’t be that selfish to bring a child into our world knowing the child would eventually hate us. That was our choice, and we had no regrets. What about you?”