Justifiable Homicide

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Justifiable Homicide Page 5

by Waggoner, Robert C.


  At midnight things couldn’t have gone better, as the rancher more than slightly drunk, with Joy helping him through the hotel room’s door laughing at his corny jokes, she let him fall on the bed with one leg on the bed and the other touching the floor. Now she watched him close his eyes and soon he was sleeping like a baby. Little did he know he would sleep the night away and very soon a dreamless sleep to never awake from.

  From the moment she walked into the hotel room she put on the latex gloves for the work ahead of her. Also when she came in the bag had only one change of clothes and she planned on leaving the over the counter bag for the police to ponder over. Her party clothes she would put in a carry sack and exit out the back door for employees. One last thing before she sent this drunken driver killer to hell was a note to his chest saying, “Don’t drink and drive.” She used a hotel pen and note paper scrawled left handed. Everything ready to go, she got a little curious to see this tube steak and unzipped him and sure enough he was well endowed as it lay like a sleeping hot dog with an eye in the end about to close like its masters eyes forever. Let’s make it clean she thought. Never mind the wake up and make him see death at hand. Out of her bag she took her new police special 38 and with the added silencer put a slug in his temple. He jerked once and went still.

  Joy took the elevator down to the third floor and from there the stairs down to the basement. All was quiet as she slipped out the back and walked down the street. About two blocks later she found another hotel and caught a taxi to the airport where she was going, she had not a clue, but one thing for sure, out of Texas.

  ***

  Special agent Peter Holmes by now was into the game. There were too many happenings for it to not be somehow connected. It was revenge maybe, but doubtful. Scratching his head, he thought, maybe there is too much geography for it to add up. He was sure now it was a vigilante group taking the law into their own hands. His only link at this time was the e-mail he got from the anonymous sender. Logic told him someone who sent this was part of the group, but who, what, where, when and how all had to be sorted out. The how was first due to the fact it would take more than one person to put this big an operation into place. Who would come next? How high a level did this involve and what agency, if it was an agency. Peter, like most law men knew how frustrated the police can be when they work hard to put a guy behind bars and the next thing they know, he’s back on the street again giving them the finger. Maybe it’s a group of retired policemen that recruited some angry cops and now they are roaming the country knocking off drug lords, drunk drivers who kill and what is next hurt his head thinking about it. Peter, he thought, look at the evidence such as it is and when no one could see anything that is when Sherlock locked onto the trail. While he looked at the map of the States, marked with the events over the last two weeks, he saw nothing that connected them with any others.

  From Atlanta Toni Tether was motoring up to Iowa to see where Peter Holmes used to live. At a rest stop she mailed the drug shipment coming to Number One asking what she should do with the information. He mailed back saying to hold tight until he mailed her later in the afternoon. Toni knew Peter would by now be notified of the ranch house and stables where all were dead by the hands of an unknown assassin. By now the two events in LA had hit the national and international news networks. Speculation flew from gang related reasons to in house take over. Only one paper added a vigilante to its list of possible reasons why in a week two major drug lords met a violent end. Toni decided to check in with Peter and see what his response to an e-mail might be.

  While Peter sat there burning up brain power a message came into his e-mail box. He was hoping it was from his admirer. And it was, much to his bewildered mind after he read it.

  “Peter Holmes, by now you saw something that is an invisible as I am. Buckle up Holmes and hang on for the ride of your life.” Inside he felt his heart pounding and pulse racing. Once more he contacted the computer department and asked for a trace on his last e-mail. He looked at his watch and it was just after everyone’s lunch time but his. He needed someone to talk to and he called his girlfriend who said, she had already had lunch, but dinner might be nice. He told her he would pick her up at seven and dialed his boss whose secretary told him three o’clock he would be available.

  Peter stood up and went down to the basement cafeteria for something to eat. All he could think of was the person sending mail to him while he sat eating alone the tasteless lunch of baked ham.

  Toni was giggling as she had hacked into Verizon and used one of their employee’s e-mails to send to Holmes.

  Number One was pleased things were going well as he mailed Toni instructions for a Wisconsin hit using Joy once again. Toni sent Joy the information and then continued driving up and over to Iowa to see where Peter Holmes family lived just to tease him a little with some bits of information about his town.

  23.

  Brian Refuta knew he was taking a big risk by having an accident with his mark while on the way to the golf course. However, he could come up with nothing else and decided to throw caution to the wind and take a run at him. The weather was in his favor as a cloudy day, but no rain kept some people in their houses, but not his guy as he saw the stretch limo coming up the street to the turn off into the country club. Well, he thought, it’s now or never as he pulled a rented car onto the street and just as the limo turned into the long drive into the country club, he took the limo in the rear quarter panel behind the back door. With his normal appearance of a three day growth of beard and rumpled sports jacket faking being drunk he backup a ways to make a quick getaway.

  The driver got out looking damn mad and walking back to the rear of the limo. Brian told the guy slurring his words that he was very sorry and reached for his wallet inside his coat pocket saying here is my insurance information. Instead of a license Brain had his Glock in hand and shot the guy twice in the heart. While this was happening the rear door opened revealing his target. The first shot took him in the head and for good measure, a second one after he hung from the back door into the back of his head. Brain quickly got back into his car and took off not speeding. Less than a minute had passed and a few blocks away he abandoned the car getting into his minivan.

  No prints would ever be found as Brian had experimented with an electrical cleaner that if you sprayed the area of contact, no prints would be left. Leaving the rental he sprayed down everything he touched. Sure they would trace the car and see who rented it, but under disguise and a large cash deposit, good luck is all he could say.

  It was time to clean up he thought. A shave and hair cut would be nice and maybe a new sport coat. Nothing too drastic he figured as his bar mates might think he was turning over a new leaf. By happy hour he had his clean cut look and sundered into the bar with a new pack of Marlboros and an off the rack light pink sport coat with rumpled baggy pants and slip on loafers that from the back half the heels were missing making him walk a little bowlegged.

  Sitting down at his usual place at the end of the bar, the bar keep brought him his usual gin and tonic asking him at the same time if he’d seen the news about the murder of a wealthy Asian guy near a country club. Brian with a shocked look told her he had been busy at the hair dresser and shopping for a new coat, as he ran his nicotine stained fingers through his short hair. She shrugged her shoulders and went to a customer who was in a yank to get a new drink while happy hour was still on. At five o’clock the news came on the TV and the first thing that the newscaster reported was the shocking killing of a very prominent importer of commodities from India. The report had very little information, but the reporter said, “It looks like a rented car by a man slammed into the rear of the limo. After the driver got out he was shot twice, as sources told us, then when the Asian opened his rear door for a look, he was shot twice in the head. The local police have called in the FBI for help on this case because of its sensitivity having a ripple effect on the international scene. Terrorists are suspected and tune in tonight
at eleven for more……..”

  At the office of the FBI in Miami with special agent Natham Bell sat at his desk with detective Sam Lookinglass. It was doubtful that there was a more incongruous looking guy in the office than Sam. FBI guys were clean cut and dressed the part looking like the Men in Black apparel. Sam was big and big meant over six four and around three hundred without a lot of fat showing. Hands the size of footballs and his grey eyes were housed in sockets over hung with a brow that when on a case moved up and down along with his scalp.

  Sam said, with a voice as gruff as he looked, “We know this Indian guy was into drugs big time. The question is who did it and why. On the one hand we have been trying to put this guy out of business for years and now someone out of the blue does our job for us. Just like the freeway killing a while back; good Goddamn riddance. It’s my guess Natham that someone is trying to take over here in Florida. I talked to the DEA and they agree that maybe a new operative is moving in and moving out the old stock. What do you think,” as he sat back in a sturdy metal chair making it groan a little from his bulk.

  “Sam, in a voice much different than his visitor with an East Coast accent, “Washington thinks we have a some kind of vigilante occurrence happening all over the country like Seattle, LA, Texas and Miami. In the last two weeks two guys in Seattle, one a drunk driver who killed a mother and some kids got off by a slick talking lawyer who was knocked off a couple hours after the first guy died in front of his home. Down in LA two big time drug guys were killed when one guy’s house with more than a dozen people in it slid down the mountain scattering bodies and drugs along the way. Then what we suspect was the Big Boss died along with a few body guards at a horse ranch. The Big Boss was tied to a corral door and burned to death along with his house. At about the same time in Dallas, a rich rancher with political connections was found murdered in a hotel room with a 38 slug in the head. He too had been a convicted drunk driver who killed some innocent folks and skated off with a fine and well, you know how it goes.”

  Sam said, “Ouch, we may be in for a wild ride here. If what you say is true about a vigilante team that might be very hard to stop. The public will love it and so will a lot of policemen across the board and maybe I included, but that doesn’t stop me from doing my job. My father was a cop before me and due process is what we have laws for. Well, I must go now and see if we can get a good description of this guy who rented the car.” They shook hands and afterwards, Natham had to rub it from the squeeze left by the giant who barely fit through the doorway. Natham knew about his reputation as one of the good ones who stayed the course, but not always getting his man.

  Number One was pleased and thought it time to put a hit on a sex offender. He’d been surfing the list of bad guys and found a likely target. But this time he wanted to use Robin Eggar if he had some vacation time away from his tire job. He also thought he would let Brian take a break for a few days or weeks. He sent a mail to Toni to relay to Robin in LA.

  24.

  Peter Holmes picked up his girlfriend and went to dinner at a nice restaurant not so far from her apartment. Neither one of them was very sexual nor did it matter much to either of them. Sometimes they slept together and never had sex. What they did have was a talking relationship and now they sat eating their pre-dinner salads as he told her about this strange set of events going on across the country including the weird e-mails he’d been getting. Sandra Porter said, “What do you think is going on Peter? I too, have been reading the papers and watching TV, and that house in LA along with the horse ranch burning down, not so far from the first one, is a bit scary.”

  Peter looked at Sandra seeing a very pretty face, not beautiful, but not plain either. She had short brown hair highlighted with a touch of blonde making almost unnoticeable streaks highlighting her dark skin. Her eyes were the color of topaz due to her contacts. A little south, a snub nose but not too short for her small stature sat just above some very kissable lips if he had a mind to and a neck to nuzzle after a bout of passion. She said, “What are you staring at?” as she took a bite of garlic bread.

  “Nothing just thinking is all. You know we got a message via e-mail about a drug shipment coming in by ship to Long Beach and we think it was from the person or person responsible for the horse ranch case.”

  Sandra cut into a rare slice of T-bone and plopped into her mouth chewing and thinking and when she had enough room to speak said, “What did they find on the ship?”

  “Not yet, it is a day or two from port, but the Coast Guard is escorting it in as we eat this damn good steak.” Sandra drank from her glass of white wine and continued chowing down on her steak. “Another thing is these weird e-mails I’m getting that can’t be traced. Our computer guys have been trying and whoever is sending them is damn good. I think it is a she and not a he because it looks like feminine writing to us.” Peter looked at her eyes and watched her mouth eat the steak and felt a little hunger in his libido. Sandra must have sensed it as she grinned and gave him a look back saying my place or yours.

  25.

  While Toni was checking out Peter Holmes home town in Iowa, Robin’s boss in LA was a little shocked when he asked for some vacation time. Robin told him an old Army buddy had sent him a letter asking him to come back east and be his best man. Robin’s boss told him to take what time he needed as Robin to his knowledge had never taken a vacation, just the money instead of time off.

  Robin packed his duffle bag without any metal for detectors or x-ray items looking like weapons. Camo gear and all things related were checked into the airport without mishap for the trip to North Carolina where a class three sex offender needed planting and Robin after reading his bio was the man for the job.

  At the same time Robin was flying east, Joy was receiving a new assignment. This too was a sex offender up in Wisconsin. She read his bio and made a tentative plan to make this guy pay dearly after reading about him that after three days of torture killed a high school girl of the local doctor in a small town. Her mother broke down completely and was home bound with a nurse to take care of her. She neither spoke nor made any sign of hearing someone who was talking to her. A total zombie is what Joy thought. The girl’s father tried to practice for six months after the incident, but finally sold his practice to a young man out of med school and retired to mundane days of rocking in his chair as the victim was their only child. Only a few rumors were heard that the girl was just too good looking for her own good. The perp was twenty eight and the janitor at the school. Strangely enough, Joy thought, after going through counseling why would they let him out after only one year in jail? Apparently this was his first time and he was under close supervision by his mother and father where he lived.

  From Chicago on a very cold day, the expressway free of snow or ice, Joy motored over to Wisconsin in a rented car. With a stopover in Madison the next morning drove north on Interstate 90. Following her map continuing north to Highway 52 she motored through many lakes and signs designating island names. Coming into her destination at a junction a small town inaptly name Boulder Junction lay as quiet as its name. I don’t much like this, she thought while slowly driving through town and the snow gave her the impression some white chemical was sprayed over the town wiping out its residents it was so dead. Just off Main St. she spotted his street address as the last one before entering the rural country side.

  Joy was concentrating on how to approach the house when not two bocks past his street a logging road disappeared into the trees. A plan started formulating in her head as there was no way she could park on his street or walk it for that matter. In a small town like this, everyone knew everyone and to the degree of what color their underwear was on any given day. Her plan was to park down the logging road far enough to hide her car and then hike to the back of his house. All of this at about two am would be a good time to sneak into his house and take him out. She might even get fortunate that the doors weren’t locked in such a small town as this one. She smiled and drove on look
ing for a place to have some lunch and then wait till time to cut off this sick guy’s dick.

  After finding a restaurant a safe distance from the mark’s town, she found some newspapers and a bookstore. Joy spent the time reading about the many remote areas of Wisconsin and its famous cheese. An afternoon nap with the car running by a lake in a deserted park, she woke to make ready her work clothes and back pack of tools for the job at hand. By one am she had backed her car into the logging road far enough that no one would see it without a spotlight. She knew her footprints would be visible after the investigators put two and two together along with her tire tracks. Tire tracks she didn’t worry about and special for this job she bought hiking boots two sizes bigger than her feet. In her backpack she had her Nike’s to do the inside job with along with some special items for her mark.

  Her eyes adjusted to the dark clear night with frost blowing from her mouth as she counted steps down the logging road to hopefully come abreast of her guy’s house. According to her instructions his house was the fifth one on a dead end street with the forest behind. Dogs of course were her only worry, but maybe the neighbors would only think it was a deer or something like that. Turning left into the underbrush that was rather thick with reproduction of planted evergreens, she made her was to the back of the houses along the street. Street lights illuminated only the fronts of houses leaving the backs in shadows. From the houses across the street she counted down to his house and to make sure she quietly made her way around front to check the house number and to see if anyone was up watching late night TV or having an insomnia night. Not a sound was heard and no dogs barked. The only sound was her breathing as clouds of breath from the cold night clouded her vision, but she had the right house. It was a typical three bedroom rambler built in the 1970s or there about.

 

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