Justifiable Homicide

by Waggoner, Robert C.

  “Peter,” said a female voice full of spirit, “How nice to hear your voice. I wondered what it might sound like. I thought I might tell you all is in place and make sure you are not in harm's way this afternoon late.” Peter’s blood pressure went up half again over normal as she continued by saying, “How about you and I meet sometime at the end of the week in a place of my choosing?”

  Peter found his voice and replied, “Do you really think that is a good idea?” there was a long stretch of silence and he went on, “Okay let’s make it on the weekend when I’m not at work.” Peter felt stronger now and wanted to hear her voice again.

  “Peter Holmes, I’ll meet you if you promise not to reveal who I am. Even if you did you would never find out who I represent as I don’t know. They're insulated and if you thought only secrets were never revealed in only graveyards, think again my young agent. Bye for now and read your mail later this week.” And the line went dead. He closed his cell and put it in his pocket. I need a drink and I can’t remember the last time I was in a bar as he stood up and walked to find a taxi to the meeting place.

  37.

  Robin waited for the CEO to arrive. No bike this time as he sat in his pickup faking a nap dressed like a workman who had one too many on his way home and decided to sleep it off. Just a few minutes ago a van pulled up and a woman and a husky man led a trio of kids into the building. It was clear to Robin that the trio was Franklin Adam’s playmates for the evening. A smoldering fire was beginning to burn in Robin’s gut as he straightened up guessing it wouldn’t be long for the pervert to arrive and just as he thought about it a SUV parked behind the van. A tall grey haired man got out and quickly strode to the building. A few minutes later the man and woman left. Robin made his move.

  With a baseball hat on and work clothes he looked like he belonged with a back pack hanging over one shoulder. Inside he had surprise for the dick head and couldn’t wait to see it used. It was four flights up and the end apartment where Robin stood taking a deep breath and three heavy knocks on the door later, a voice said “What do you want?’

  Robin said, “Sir your car is being broken into by some kids and I thought I would let you know.” Robin stood back knowing the guy was putting on his coat waiting for him to open the door. A half minute was all it took when the door opened and Franklin gasped as he saw a mountain of a man with a pistol point at his head. Robin motioned he back in and followed the awe struck Franklin into the living room.

  “Sit down on the sofa and don’t say a word or I’ll shoot you where you stand.” Robin watched as the guy sat down now obviously scared shitless. Robin looked around and no one was visible. He guessed the kids were in one of the two bedrooms. Robin then told the guy to lie down on the floor face down.

  Franklin did as he was told and said, “Look if it is money I can give you a lot of money if only you let me go. I’m a very important executive worth a lot of money for my safety,” as he slid to the floor. Robin placed his knee in his back and from his back pack took out some duct tape and ripped a chunk of then pulling the guys head back by the hair placed it over his mouth. Robin didn’t want to hear a word more for this guy. Then Robin taped his hands to his back and pulled him up like he weighed nothing. His gun at his back he led the pervert down the short hall where both doors were closed and not a sound came from either room. Robin tired the first room and it was empty. He moved to the next room and opened the door.

  Now Robin Eggar was a strong man both mind and body, but his heart took an extra beat when he looked at three kids no more than thirteen, all naked handcuffed together on the floor back to back. Robin only thanked a higher source he didn’t wait a half hour longer. The kids head eyes as big as baseballs when they saw Robin with a gun. Robin said, “Kids don’t worry as I’m here to save you from the pervert. The kids didn’t relax until Robin dug the handcuff key out of Franklin’s pocked and then placed him on the floor face down once more. Robin unlocked the cuffs and the two girls and one boy rubbed their wrists.

  Robin said, “Get dressed kids and for once the tide has turned for you.” The kids scrabbled for their clothes and in no time were standing together waiting for the next order from their savior. By now Franklin realized he was in deep shit and started to cry. Robin asked the oldest one what her name was and she told him Maria. She was Mexican as were the other two. He asked her another question, “Do you speak English?”

  She said, “Yes, a little, but these two don’t speak much English. This is my second time with this guy and he is not a nice man at all. He makes us do awful things to him and with our friends while he watches,” as she begin to cry big tears running down her face.

  “Well Maria,” as he reached into his backpack and took out a curled up whip with small balls of steel attached to the end of what is commonly known as a cat o nine tails, “you will get your day in court and it is payback time for this piece of shit. Robin with a Rambo type knife cut the guys clothes off and none to gentle as some long thin cuts oozed out, but soon he was naked as a jay bird laying on his back staring at the kids and back again to Robin with pleading eyes moaning through the duct tape.

  Robin handed the whip to Maria and she gladly took it and with a stroke that belied her skinny frame, laid it across his crotch sending Franklin a pain level never felt before. His legs rose up into a fetal position and he rolled onto his side. Maria laid another one across his back side leaving red welts and a trickle of blood across his hairy ass. Maria then tried to hand the whip to the other girl who was about eleven, but she shook her head. But the boy with eyes of a killer took the whip and three minutes later breathing hard had Franklin almost unconscious from the whipping.

  Maria once more took the whip and tried to roll him over on his back. She wanted more of his crotch as Robin guess the guy, who was rather stout of dick, hurt her bad the last time. Robin helped her roll him over and she never let up until his dick and balls were a total mass of pulp.

  Robin took the whip away and gave each kid a thousand large and told them to go out the back very quietly. A few minutes after they left and Robin saw out the window the kids running down the street, he walked over and put a bullet in Franklin Adams head. Robin left down the back stairs and not a head stuck out the door as he walked down the street and drove off. He knew not a person in this neighbor hood would give the police the time of day. Robin drove to his motel and loaded his bike up and headed for home. He almost felt like he had done God’s work. Little did he know but a newspaper ran a story suggesting maybe someone took a page out of the bible saying: “An eye for an eye.”

  38.

  Joy and Pect sat in the back of the van that was stolen by Pect’s friend Ben Franks across and down the street about fifty yards from the front of the bar. The time was three thirty and Joy had seen the young FBI man walk into the bar just a few minutes earlier. He was alone and Pect had just come back from a recon of the area and saw nothing suspicious in the area. Now all they had to do was wait until five.

  When he was inside the bar, he felt out of place and conspicuous. However, a few heads had turned but no one really paid any attention to him. Most were office guys with their ties loose and were making a long lunch hour preparing for happy hour. Peter shuddered at the thought of what a waste of life sitting in a smelly bar telling the same stories over and over again. The place smelled of disinfectant, booze and cigarettes. All things Peter despised. It took all of his will power to sit among the patrons who eye balled him through the back mirror at a table next to the wall. The ubiquitous candle in a smoke colored jar sat burning on all the tables like an offering in a church. Peter wasn’t sure if the bar tender was typical or not. He had no experience at these establishments, but the young shapely looking bar tender glided over with a nice smile asking him what he wanted to drink. Peter told her a tall gin and tonic and she left swishing her hips at him.

  While Peter waited his boss was riding in a taxi to the bar. It was later, if you had asked the taxi driver what his passeng
er looked like he would have said: “A zombie of a guy who looked like he was going to his mother’s funeral.” That was close, but it was his own funeral he was going to. Peter saw the bar keep coming and had laid a twenty on the table as she leaned down more than necessary to give him a look see down a cleavage that had no ending between two mounds of fake tits. Peter did smile and she took the twenty and like his parents grandfather clock with a pendulum swinging back and forth, she gracefully negotiated between the other tables to ring up his drink. Just then he saw his boss come through the door as the bartender was about to bring him his change. A big smile crossed her face as Peter guess he was a big tipper and a regular. He saw him nod at her and like a blind person knowing his way around the house, slide into a chair across from Peter letting escape a deep breath of air. Peter watched as he, like the other juicers loosed his tie making a plan for a marathon of drinking the evening away. His eyes were down cast until Deep Cleavage brought the change back and sat a martini in front of her regular customer telling him good afternoon and so on. He gave her a plastic smile and mumbled a few words of not bad and she puttered off.

  He took a large pull on his drink and looked up at Peter for the first time. He sucked in some foul air and said, “Peter, thanks for being here today. You know we all make mistakes and some can be excused and some can’t. When I was your age, nothing seemed to matter except the job and having a few belts after work. I have a good wife and family, but never realized it until it was too late. God you can’t believe how many excuses I made to myself justifying my drinking after work. Then after the accident, it finally dawned on me how many times I skated driving home when I shouldn’t have been driving. Now it’s time to pay the piper and do what is right for my past actions.”

  Peter had been looking at a dead man and made the connection that probably since the accident he was half dead anyway. Peter wondered if he could face the fact it was time to, like a wounded animal put him out of his misery. Peter took a hefty pull on his watered down drink while his boss drained his martini and like magic another fresh one appeared at the table. Big tits smiled and told him she would start a tab then left as Peter caught another whiff of Woolworth’s perfume. Peter rubbed his nose waiting for his boss to continue. Like Sherlock Holmes standing in front of his fireplace with one arm on the mantel and the other with his pipe staring into space waiting for the speaker to continue his narrative, Peter too waited for his boss to confess his sins before execution time.

  “Peter, I asked one more thing, when it happens cover my body so the on lookers can’t see the damage or the media for that matter. I don’t want my family to have that last visual picture of me to remember.”

  Peter spoke for the first time saying, “Yes, I will see to it that you are respected until the ambulance arrives,” as he finished off his drink and once more the efficient bar tender arrived with now two fresh drinks. What a pro, Peter thought. Then he looked at his new watch and it was four thirty. His boss saw him looking at the time and smiled a little bit. Peter noticed his boss was a little high now and had sat back not quite so stiff as before. He was starting to get into the old swing of things as he looked around the bar for the first time like seeking out an old drinking buddy like in the old days. Once more he said, “This is my last drink and the last minutes of my life on earth. Peter I think you have a good future and I just finished an evaluation on you for your file. No, I didn’t lie about a thing. I will say this it is time for you to get married if you want to climb the proverbial ladder.” Then his boss sat playing with the olives and in some meditation of past memories so Peter said nothing patiently waiting for the scheduled time to give his body an eternity of rest.

  His boss looked up and drained his glass. His eyes had changed to acceptance and peacefulness. He smiled and told Peter it was time to go. He straightened his tie and walked confidently to the bar to sign his tab with a credit card like always. Peter waited at the door and once more looked at his watch. It was just before five and even though it was a cloudy day and growing dark quickly, the light was hard on his eyes.

  Peter held the door open and let his boss out first. Peter hung back and his boss hugged the side of the building for a few steps and stopped. He stood tall with chin up giving the shooter a side shot to the head. Peter stood in front of the door for what seemed like minutes and then while looking at his boss, his head exploded out of the other side next to the wall and the rest of his body slammed into the concrete wall then crumpled to the sidewalk. Peter didn’t have to play a game as true shock hit him as he stared at his former boss seeing not a lot of blood, but a mass of tissue on the wall and on the sidewalk. Peter took off his overcoat and told the first on looker, an old woman, to call an ambulance while he placed the coat over his old boss. He didn’t know how he felt. Certainly he played a role in defrauding an insurance company and just assisted in the death of healthy human being; albeit not without some affection. And what about my job, he thought. Now the lies begin and where will they end? What a tangle web we weave he remembered from reading long ago. Sherlock on more than one occasion let a criminal go for moral reason, and does that justify my actions, he thought, as the first sounds of a sirens reached his ears.

  39.

  Toni made her way herding her motor home towards the East Coast. While driving Toni thought about Peter as her watch told her the hit had taken place and now poor Peter would have to live with what the part he played in the crime. And crime it was, no doubt about that. Murder one and he was up to his neck in the war against criminals who escaped justice one way or the other. Now she wondered what their meeting would be like; if he did show up. I must insist he put it behind him and get on with life.

  Toni’s thoughts drifted to the radio which had the evening news broadcasting the death of a high level FBI agent gunned down on the streets of Washington DC. Few details were forthcoming as the FBI had put a lid on tighter than a homemade jar of jam. It was one of their own and the spokesperson told the news a report would come later. The news man went on to say that an epidemic of vigilante killings across America had the people cheering for action where justice had failed. Crime, he told his audience was a major issue in all big cities and now with the recent deaths the focus was the court system. Toni turned it off and looked for a place to lie up for the night. Her computer was telling her she had mail and needed to check it out.

  The mail was from Peter. It was short and sweet: “See you soon.” Another mail was from Number One and it gave her instruction to pass on to Brain Refuta. The hit was on a DEA guy who was on the payroll of a drug lord in Columbia and based in Miami. Brain should love this, Toni thought. Toni knew when he was with the FBI he worked with the DEA on more than one occasion. She wondered if he knew the dude, as she closed up her computer after she e-mailed Brain.

  * * *

  Indeed did Brain know the name when he opened up his e-mail the next morning after a late night at the Swizzle Stick Lounge. He wasn’t hung over from drinking, he was hung over from too many cigarettes and bad air.

  Now he read and reread the assignment on a guy he thought was a damn good agent. Goes to show you that what you see on the outside is not what brews on the inside. Not very profound, he thought. From what he remembered the guy was married and had a couple kids going to college. What he did know as profound, was the temptation of money; and apparently lots of it. Greed comes in many disguises and when someone shows you a box full of green backs, well it does take a strong man to turn it down. Brain wondered if he could scare the guy off and turn him back against the people who bought him. A double agent if you would. Not a bad idea, he thought. Let me mail this to the boss and see what he says, while lighting up another stick and washing the smoke down with black coffee.

  Number One read Brian’s mail with some interest. He sat his hand held computer down and made his way to the order window of a fast food joint for breakfast. After ordering and munching on an English muffin he mailed Brian telling him to feel it out and get back
to him. Number One finished up his breakfast and drove to the office like it was just another day. He thought, this is going better than expected and I wonder when the shit is going to hit the fan.

  40.

  Peter Holmes after four hours of interrogation was finally told to go home and take a rest. Nothing of any consequences came of the meeting. Peter told them the meeting between his boss and him was purely social and mostly surrounded the case of recent killings. He further added that his boss didn’t appear any different than usual and he had only two drinks before saying he would leave for home.

  Now on his way home being driven by an agent Peter sat leaning against the door thinking about his boss’s family. The money would be nice, but who would fill the vacuum left without a man around the house. His thoughts were bouncing like a ping pong ball from his parents to Sandy, to his tag mate, to his security blanket Sherlock Homes, to his job as a sworn agent, to uphold the law of the country.

  He thanked the driver and went into his dark cold apartment knowing a message was waiting from Sandy. His picture had been splashed across the TV and he was damn glad he didn’t have an answering machine. Walking into his apartment he was greeted with the incessant ringing of his phone. Without turning on the light he unplugged the phone and went to the kitchen for what reason he didn’t know. He was neither hungry nor thirsty, but looked into the mostly empty refrigerator seeing a half empty bottle of red wine looking as forlorn as the owner. Leaving the kitchen light on made his way to his sofa and sat down with glass and wine. Pouring a generous dollop he took a pull and shuddered from both the wine and the knock at the door. Peter debated whether to answer the call or hide in the dark. He guessed it was Sandy and the knocker wouldn’t go away so he answered the knock.