As police cars left the scene, agents Merritt and Frankano stood next to their vehicle, discussing the gruesome find. “How long are we going to allow this to go on, Steve?” Merritt asked.
“Don’t ask that question again, Tom. Please don’t ask that question. We have a job to do and we are going to see it through.”
“But we’ve had plenty of evidence against him. Why does the bureau allow it to continue? I don’t like it. He’s bad news, Steve.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” Frankano sighed in resignation.
“Well, Steve, after finding the girl dead and now this couple, I feel compelled to tell someone the truth about this son-of-a-bitch.”
“What are you saying, Tom?”
“I’m saying maybe we’re doing the wrong thing here. We took an oath to uphold the law, and here we are watching two more of his victims. Aren’t we accomplices to these crimes? We’re allowing them to happen, aren’t we?”
“No, Tom. I have been assured by the assistant to the director of the bureau this is bigger than we could ever imagine. There’s not much we can do right now until we hear from them again. Are you going to be okay in the mean time?” Frankano peered under his heavy lids at his partner.
“Yeah, I suppose. But there’s got to be something we can do to stop that bastard!”
“Such as? I hope you’re not thinking of doing something foolish, Tom.”
“Fuck you, Steve. I just don’t know anymore. I need to think about all this.” Merritt shook his head, frustrated.
“Damnit Tom?” Frankano was worried. “What are you going to do?”
“Get out of my face, Steve. Right now I just want to go home to my wife and kids. I have a birthday party to go to for my girls. Let’s just get out of here.”
Merritt walked away from his partner and friend, and got in the car. He shouted out loud sitting there in the passenger side, “Damnit!”
Frankano followed, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped, his heavy-lidded eyes downcast, masking his concern.
PART TWO
Tony Bix
Tony Bix, was a thirty-nine-year-old, handsome and extremely ambitious husband to the beautiful Peggy Bix.
Besides being the public defender for the city of St. Louis, Tony was also the Democratic candidate for the 3rd district’s congressional seat in South St. Louis in the up coming elections, the same area he grew up.
Tony wanted to move up, not in the confines of City Hall, but in the world of politics. This would be the year he made a bid for the congressional seat against another new comer to the political field, Republican candidate, Simon Moss.
Neither man was challenged in their respective primaries, so it was just the two of them down to the wire. Election day was only three months away.
Tony wanted that seat more than anything else. He had had many plans for Peggy. She was supposed to be his number one campaigner, but her pregnancy threw a wrench in that idea. From the time she became pregnant, Peggy woke up every day sick to her stomach. She was having a tough time and needed extra bed rest.
Tony had warned her over and over again not to forget to take her birth control, but Peggy, feeling like Tony was always trying to control her, purposely forgot and told her husband so. He was furious with her for months, and even though he had resigned himself to the fact that she would have the child, from that time on, there was bitter resentment between the two.
All Peggy ever wanted was a big family and a house in the country. But what she had to settle for now was a third-floor condo in the middle of downtown St. Louis and a stubborn husband who would have nothing to do with children.
***
Tony did promise Peggy many times that all of her wishes would come true after he got what he wanted. But she soon realized that Tony Bix was never satisfied with what he had, and if she was to ever have what she wanted, she would have to just do it with or without his approval.
“Peggy?” Tony called out. But no one answered. He moved through the dining room and into the kitchen where Peggy was seated at the table paging through a catalog. “Hey,” he asked. “Didn’t you hear me?”
She offered a smile.
“What’s going on?” Reaching into the kitchen cabinet, he pulled out a glass tumbler and filled it with cold tap water.
“Tony, I’m so excited about this baby coming,” she said. “Look. Come look at all these cute baby things. I’d love to get some shopping done soon. Three months to go.”
“You go ‘head, Peg. Get whatever you think you need,” he said, brushing her off.
“Oh, come see,” Peggy said. “I want you to see, too.” She held the catalog out to him.
“Peggy, I’m hungry,” he said, trying to diminish her request. “I don’t want to talk about baby clothes.”
“You don’t care about this baby at all, do you?” she said as her eyes filled with tears.
“Now let’s not get started again,” Tony said in frustration.
Peggy continued to page through the catalog, while he stood next to the sink watching in disgust. “Tony, you know how bad I want children. I love them,” she quietly explained. “Why can’t you show me that you care about this?”
His voice grew angry, “Listen, damn it. I’ve told you over and over again, I would do anything for you, but getting pregnant right when you knew I was going to run for office really takes the cake, Peggy!” He paused, then slammed the glass on the counter. For a moment, he thought he’d cracked it. He looked at the bottom of the glass and saw he didn’t. Peggy started crying.
“Oh, damn it, Peggy, please. Let’s not do this right now. I want to go eat and tell you about my day. Can we talk about babies later?” he asked, in a sweet, pacifying tone.
“Tony,” she pouted, wiping away her tears and closing the catalog. “One of these days, Tony Bix, I’m going to change you.”
He walked behind her and put his hands on her shoulders and gently messaged them. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you will,” he laughed. “I’m looking forward to it!”
“You’re a sarcastic son of a bitch!” she said, wiggling her shoulders away from his grasp.
“Now, now, you don’t mean that,” he teased.
“Well, someday you’ll get your priorities straight,” she said, in a firm voice.
“My priorities are straight,” he pompously said. “When I win this election in November, everything will fall into place for both of us. I promise.”
“You promise? I’ve heard that before,” she said. “You are always full of promises.”
“Let’s go eat, Peggy,” he grinned.
“Whatever you say, Master.” she mumbled to herself.
He snapped back, “You’ve got a smart mouth, you know that? Why are you such a smart ass?”
She didn’t respond. Tony walked out of the kitchen. Peggy closed the baby clothes catalog, as tears filled her eyes. She just sat there, simmering.
***
Table for two?” the maitre’d at the restaurant door asked. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Bix!,” Tony said, with a confident smirk, thinking the man had recognized him. Tony waited for the man to comment about his congressional run.
“Let’s see here. Bix. Ah, yes! Mr. Bix, this way please,” he showed them the way with his hand.
When they got to their table, the maitre’d said to Tony, “Are you two vacationing in our fine city?”
Peggy whispered to her irritated husband, “I don’t think the man knows you from Adam.” She carefully grinned.
“Real funny,” he pouted.
Peggy looked radiant, even wearing a dark blue, knee length, maternity dress. She was a knockout and Tony knew it. He loved to parade her through a crowd. She was his trophy girl. That’s what he always looked for in a mate, and h
e found it in Peggy.
It was certainly to his benefit to have such a gorgeous woman at his side. She was the one who got the stares, not him. But it was a big blow to his ego when she turned up pregnant. All he could worry about was that big stomach of hers sticking out in every campaign picture. It wasn’t the picture he’d imagined. Tony eyed the menu as the waiter approached.
“Would you like to order now sir, or would you prefer to have a drink first?” the waiter asked.
“We’ll order now, thank you,” Tony said, hurrying the man.
“Very well sir,” the man kindly obliged. “I’d like to recommend the Veal Cordon Bleu. It’s especially good tonight.”
“No,” he said. “I think I’m in the mood for fish tonight.”
“Our Pompano en Papilotte is delicious. It’s one of my favorites,” the waiter encouraged.”
“Pompano en, what?” Peggy asked.
The waiter looked over at Peggy and answered, “Pompano en Papilotte, Ma’am.”
“Ooh, that is an interesting sounding dish. I’ll bet it’s good, too,” she sang her words. “What is it?”
“It is excellent, Ma’am,” the waiter began to sell to her. “Pompano is a delicious fish. We fillet it, then place it in a special New Orleans mushroom sauce, top it with shrimp, then wrap it in foil and bake it.”
“Ooh, I’ll have that.” She looked at the waiter then to her husband for his approval.
“That’s fine, I’ll have the same,” Tony stated, emotionless.
“Wonderful,” the waiter said. “We’ll bring your salads right away. Will the house dressing be acceptable?”
“Yes, that will be fine,” Tony answered for both them.
The waiter took their menus and walked off.
“Tony, this place is so beautiful,” Peggy said, sighing. “Why haven’t we come here before?”
“I just recently heard about it from a friend at City Hall. This, my dear, is where the elite dine. The money of St. Louis.”
“So?” she wondered out loud.
“What do you mean, so? Peggy, when will you realize that I can’t win this election without the backing of these people?” He looked around the room, surveying the wealth.
“But, Tony, if you ask these people for money, you know they’ll expect favors in return. They’ll always have you under their thumb. You don’t want that,” Peggy told him.
“I won’t let that happen,” he said.
She leaned a bit towards him and slightly whispered, “It doesn’t seem like something you’d have any control over.”
“I would, damn it!” he quietly swore.
She sipped her water and shrugged her shoulders.
“Why do you doubt me when I tell you something Peggy?” Tony asked.
“Oh, I believe you,” she said in return.
“You never agree with anything I say. Whenever I say something about this campaign you find some way to contradict it. Why is that?” Tony prodded her. “I was hoping you would be behind me one hundred percent with this election. I’m counting on you and you keep letting me down.”
“You mean, me having the baby let you down, don’t you?” she sadly asked him.
“Sorry. I didn’t want to bring that up tonight,” he said, as he played with one of the forks in front of him.
“Listen to me–,” she said, taking control of the conversation. “I am with you all the way on this election. You have to believe that. I love you and I want you to win. I just don’t want you getting your hopes up too high, that’s all.” She continued, “You seem to have forgotten that the man you’re running against is a very popular guy. The city loves him. Tony, the man is a war hero.”
“Ah, yes, the famous war hero,” he moaned. “Give me a fucking break. It’s all a bunch of bullshit, Peggy. You can’t believe everything you read.”
“I read the stories Tony, and I believe them,” she shrugged. “He actually saved twelve men in battle. He was wounded and received the Purple Heart in Vietnam.”
“Well now I know who you’re going to vote for in November,” he complained.
Peggy let out a small giggle. “Oh, Tony, grow up. Surely you’ve thought about the importance of Simon’s popularity.”
“Simon Moss is a fraud,” he told her.
“Simon Moss knows how to run a campaign. You better accept that,” she said in an uncharacteristic, condescending tone.
“You are really something Peg,” he said bitterly. “You are supposed to be on my side.”
“I’m with you all the way Tony,” she said, trying to warm back up to him.”
Tony moved the conversation along, “I talked with a TV reporter today who said that a big turnout of the young Catholic voters would greatly improve my chances of defeating that white-haired old fart.”
“If my memory serves me right, Tony, the last time you stepped into a Catholic church was on our wedding day nine years ago,” she reminded him.
“Damn it! There you go again!” he lightly tossed the fork across the table, where it balanced on the edge.
There was an awkward silence between them for a moment.
“Don’t worry, Baby. You can count on me.” She leaned over and gave him a comforting kiss on the cheek.
He accepted her kiss then glanced back into the crowded dining area. “Oh shit!” he blurted out.
“What is it?” Peggy asked.
“Speak of the fucking devil!” Tony turned around in his chair towards the entrance of the restaurant.
Walking into the room, with all eyes glued on him, came the formidable, Simon Moss. He moved from table to table, shaking hands, kissing wives and glowing like no one else in the restaurant.
The dark blue suit, the crisp white shirt, which blended nicely with his snow white hair laying smoothly at the back of his collar, and the dark red wine thin tie weren’t the only things Simon Moss had going for himself. The man was gifted with charisma, like few others.
“Tony,” Peggy warned, “he’s coming our way.”
“No big deal.” Obviously nervous, Tony stood up and walked toward his advancing adversary. They met in the middle of the room with every eye in the place suddenly on them. Peggy stared at them, wondering what kind of scene the two might make.
“Simon, come sit with my wife and me,” Tony proudly invited, as the patrons of the restaurant watched their every move, seemingly amazed at the candidates chance meeting.
***
Tony Bix was certainly no stranger to the city of St. Louis. He repeatedly appeared on the evening news whenever he was called on to defend some felon. He was interviewed many times to explain his policy of trying to help the criminals of the area get lighter sentences and many times even prove their innocence.
Tony was very convincing in his belief that the judicial system was a travesty, not a rehabilitating process, which it claimed to be. He knew his way worked, and though it wasn’t popular with the Republican mainstays of the city, it was very appealing to the poor and young voters.
He had a way of making juries feel sorry for even the most dangerous hoodlums. Tony helped arrange counseling for them and even arranged community jobs for some of them.
Simon Moss totally disagreed with Tony’s platform. But he also had the smarts to realize he would have a pretty good battle on his hands against the young handsome lawyer, especially if the Catholics came out in force as the local pundits had predicted. Neither of them had any opposition in the primaries, so both were prepared to face each other head on in the November general election.
***
“Hello Peggy,” Simon smiled, reaching for her hand.
“Well, hello Simon. Nice to see you,” she responded.
“Gonna be a boy or girl?” he asked.
“A girl. I hope it�
��s a girl,” she answered.
Standing between the couple, holding Peggy’s hand firmly, Simon went on. “Are you going to use one of those new birthing methods?”
“I would like to have natural childbirth but Tony—?
“Hey! Hey,” Tony interrupted, “What is this, a woman’s club? Come on Peggy, Simon’s not interested in that baby stuff. Right, Simon?”
“Tony, I was the one who brought it up, now let her finish,” he said, purposely trying to humiliate Tony.
A smile appeared on Peggy’s face while a grimace over took Tony’s. “I appreciate that, Mr. Moss,” she said.
“Darling, you can call me Simon,” he winked.
Peggy gave her husband one of those ‘so there’ looks.
His face turned red from embarrassment.
“Listen folks,” Moss said. “I only came here to say hello to a few acquaintances who are sitting in the bar. It’s been nice seeing you again Peggy, but I must be going. I hope you get what you want.” He gave her another wink.
“Thank you Simon. That’s so very sweet of you. Good-bye.” Peggy sighed, taken by the smooth politician’s charm.
Patting Tony on the back, Simon turned and walked through the adoring crowd. Tony watched his every move, sending a hateful stare at his opponent’s back.
“What a nice man. Don’t you think so Tony?”
“Boy, oh boy, my own wife makes a fool out of me,” he whined.
“What do you mean, me? I just don’t understand you,” she scowled.
In a muffled shout, Tony’s anger flared, “Why is it you keep doing this to me?”
The waiter interrupted, “Your salads, sir. I hope you enjoy your meal.”
“Oh, yes. Fine, thank you,” Tony said, trying to regain his composure. As Tony brought his fork to his lips to get a taste of the three-leaf salad, a hand touched his shoulder.
“By the way Bix, I thought you might like to know.”
Tony held his fork in mid air as Simon appended his visit.
One Hand On The Podium Page 5