Morty Friedman pulled up in front of the Three Trails in his bright, red ’59 Cadillac Eldorado, the one with the sweeping tail fins. After winning the lottery, he could have purchased any car in the world, but he had always had his heart set on owning one of the classic Caddies one day.
Mr. Barnes from #18 was sitting on the swing, eating sunflower seeds and spitting the shells over the rail when Morty climbed the front steps to Mary’s apartment.
“Hot damn! That’s some car,” he said, starting to get up. “Mind if I take a closer look?”
At that moment, Mary came bustling onto the porch carrying her bat. “If you even think about getting close to that car, I’ll knock you into next week!”
“Okay, okay,” Mr. Barnes said, settling back into the swing. “Don’t get your panties in a wad.”
Just then, the front door leading to the sleeping rooms on the second floor opened and old man Feeney appeared.
“Bad news, Mary. The crapper in #4 is clogged up again.”
“Well, damn! Don’t suppose you have any idea who done it this time?”
“Mighta been me,” he replied sheepishly.
Mary stomped back into her apartment and came back with a sign that read, ‘out of order.’
“Here!” she said, handing him the sign. “Hang this on the door. You all have three more crappers up there, so just make do. I’ll be darned if I’m gonna deal with a clogged toilet tonight. I got me a date. I’ll get Willie over here tomorrow to take care of it.”
Just then, Mr. Barnes started gagging and choking like a cat coughing up a hairball. “Seeds!” he wheezed, pointing to his throat.
Old man Feeney sprang into action and started slapping Barnes on the back.
A few more coughs and a wad of seeds along with his false teeth came flying out of his mouth.
Morty watched in awe as the dentures bounced down the steps.
“Ready to go?” Mary asked, taking his arm.
“Interesting tenants,” he remarked as they made their way to the Caddy.
Mary hesitated as Morty opened the door for her. “Hope you don’t mind if I bring my bat,” she said, holding up her Hillerich & Bradsby Louisville Slugger.
“Sure,” he replied. “As long as you don’t use it on me. Actually, I’ve been wanting to take a look at it. I understand that it has quite a history.”
“It certainly does,” she said proudly. She pointed to a dark red stain. “That’s the Russian mobster.” Then pointing to another red blotch. “And that one is the assassin who was trying to hurt Mr. Walt and Ms. Maggie.”
“So what’s the black thing on the end?”
“Oops! That’s what’s left of a cockroach I smashed in the hall. I meant to wipe that off. Sorry!”
“No problem,” he said, smiling.
“So where are you taking me?” Mary asked, eagerly.
“I wanted our first date to be extra special, so I’m taking you to Ruth’s Chris on the Plaza.”
“Oh, goody,” Mary replied clapping her hands. “Mr. Walt and Ms. Maggie have been there several times. I hear they have those special filet steak things. Do you suppose that I could get one of those?”
“You can have anything you want,” Morty said, patting her leg.
Morty was cruising down Main Street when a ratty old pickup truck squealed out of a 7-11. Morty jerked the steering wheel hard to the right to avoid a collision, causing him to run up on the sidewalk. He barely missed a tamale cart before pulling back onto the street.
The pickup truck stopped and a burly guy with a beard, wearing a leather vest was glaring at them.
“Watch where you’re driving that piece of crap, old man. What are you doing out of the nursing home anyway?”
Mary and Morty were both shaken up, but not hurt.
Mary gained her composure first. “It was your fault, you idiot. So screw you!” she yelled, giving him the finger.
“I’m not sure you should have done that,” Morty said, as the man slammed his truck into park and climbed out of the cab.
He was wearing tight jeans and one of those heavy chains that bikers and rednecks always seem to have.
He stormed up to the driver’s side and slammed his fist against the roof.
“Maybe you’d like to say that again, Grandma!”
“Maybe I would!” she bellowed back. “Looks like you’re deaf as well as dumb. What I said was ‘SCREW YOU.’ Did you hear me that time?” Then she gave him the finger again with both hands.
“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” he said, taking the heavy chain off of his belt. “Let’s see how you like this!”
He swung the chain over his head and smashed it onto the hood of the Caddy leaving a six inch dent and chipped paint.
Fire flashed in Morty’s eyes. He lifted the handle and smashed the car door into the man’s ribs.
“Oh, so you want to play, do you tough guy?” he said pulling Morty out of the car by his collar. “Well let’s play!
Mary had slipped out of her side of the car and grabbed her bat out of the back seat. The guy had Morty bent backwards over the hood and had rared back to throw a punch when Mary unloaded the Louisville Slugger on the back of his knees.
The guy roared in pain and crumpled to the ground.
Mary heard sirens in the distance. Evidently a bystander had called 911.
Mary went to the front of the pickup and bashed in a headlight then did the same number on the tail light.
She had just stowed the bat in the back seat when a black and white rolled up.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Officer Dooley said. “Mary Murphy! What have you done this time?”
“This creep ran us off the road and then came back to harass us. It was one of those ‘road rage’ things. Look what he done to poor Morty’s car,” she said, pointing to the dent.
“That’s a lie!” the guy said, trying to struggle to his feet. “They beat me up!”
Dooley looked at the hulk in the leather jacket and the two old timers standing innocently beside the car. “Right! You’re telling me that these senior citizens got the best of you? Really?”
Dooley looked at the crowd that had gathered. “Anybody see this?”
A middle aged woman stepped forward. “I saw the whole thing. He ran them off the road, then came back and dented their car. He was about to hurt the old gentleman when you arrived.”
Dooley looked at the crowd and everyone was nodding their heads.
“I don’t believe this!” guy wailed. “That old woman attacked me!”
“That’s not all,” Mary said, butting in. “This guy’s been driving around with one headlight and no tail light. Isn’t that against the law?”
“Sure is,” Dooley said, pretending not to notice the shards of glass on the ground. He grabbed the guy by the collar. “Well, tough guy, looks like we need to take you in for assault and driving with unsafe equipment. Oh, and your truck will be towed. You can pick it up in the impound lot after you post bail.”
“But ----!”
The crowd applauded as Dooley led the guy away in cuffs.
“So how about that steak?” Mary asked.
Morty was speechless. “How --- how did you pull that off?”
“Being old has its drawbacks, but there’s some perks too,” she said, smiling. “When you get to a certain age you can get away with stuff that you never could have if you was younger. Plus, it doesn’t hurt to have friends on the police force.”
“Mary, I just knew this date was going to be something special!”
CHAPTER 12
“Son-of-a-bitch! Those idiots!” Maggie exclaimed, slamming down the newspaper.
That got my attention right away. Unlike our friend Mary, Maggie seldom resorted to expletives to express her opinion.
“Which idiots are you referring to today?”
“Congress and the president. Those clowns in Washington can’t get their act together and I have three sales going down the toilet. One is a V
A and the other two are FHA. The buyers and sellers are packed and ready to go. All we’re waiting on is loan approval and we can’t get it because of this stupid government shutdown and now the paper says this thing could go on for weeks! Those fools just don’t have any idea how many lives are being disrupted.”
I knew the shutdown thing was going on, but frankly, I had just been too busy to keep up with the details. I had heard several of the officers at the station moaning because some their spouses who were federal employees had been given furloughs without pay. A few others whose jobs had been labeled ‘essential’ were having to continue working not knowing if or when they would be paid.
“It’s affecting the lives of over 42,000 federal employees just here in Kansas City alone,” Maggie continued, “not to mention all the people who will be affected because they can’t get government services. Betty from our office was in the process of getting her passport for a vacation to Mexico, but now that’s on hold indefinitely. They’ve even shut down Yosemite Park and the Grand Canyon! Idiots!”
My little Irish redhead was normally pretty even-tempered but when something got her dander up, I had learned that it was better to just agree and slip quietly away.
“Oh, my. Look at the time. I’m supposed to pick Ox up this morning at the service station. He’s getting his oil changed.”
As I closed the door, I heard her mumble, “Dumb-asses!”
When I opened the door onto the front porch, the Professor was staring intently at the sky. “Amazing!”
“The beautiful fall day?”
“No, that!” he replied, pointing to a jet that was leaving a trail across miles of blue sky.
“Oh, the contrail.”
“That’s not a contrail, my friend. Contrail is short for condensation trail. A contrail is nothing but droplets of water that evaporate very quickly. What you’re looking at there are solid particles.”
“Really? Particles of what?”
“Poisons mostly. Aluminum, barium, strontium, plus a mix of other toxic materials.”
“Why in the world would somebody spray toxic chemicals into the air we breathe?”
“The scientists and politicians behind those trails call it ‘geoengineering.’ The idea is that by blocking the natural sunlight from reaching the earth, cooling can occur, and presumably if one does this forever, global warming could be avoided. The same technology is supposed to divert rain patterns and wind currents where the ‘scientists’ think they should be --- after all, they are much wiser than Mother Nature. Of course, one problem with this theory is that the stuff they’re spraying into our air is deadly. It kills life on earth from soil organisms right on up the food chain to you and me. There is, of course, a bright spot in this scenario --- for GMO companies like Monsanto who are working with universities like Cornell to develop toxic GMO trees and plants that will live where natural life forms would die from aluminum poisoning.”
“Holy crap! Where are you getting all this?”
“Do you really have to ask? Arnie Goldblume and Nicholas Thatcher, of course.”
“Ahhh, yes! So the ‘Watchers’ are still watching.”
“Indeed they are, but unfortunately, nobody seems to be listening. People wonder why afflictions such as Alzheimer’s and autism are on the increase and all they have to do is look to the heavens at the beautiful, fluffy trails that our government is providing for us.”
“When I came onto the porch, I heard you say, ‘amazing.’ What’s amazing?”
“The fact that our government is shut down and they have no money to pay hundreds of thousands of federal workers, but somehow there is money available to spread their poison.”
Needless to say, after my experience with Maggie and the Professor, my confidence in our elected officials was at an all-time low.
Ox and I were patrolling the eastern edge of Kansas City when the call came in.
“Car 54, there is an incident in progress at the Truman Library in Independence. The Independence Police Department is understaffed today and requesting assistance. Can you respond?”
Ox keyed the mike. “We’re on our way.”
The Truman Library is a magnificent structure perched on a hill on Highway 24 with a gorgeous view of the Kansas City skyline. The library, of course, was dedicated to preserving the papers of our 33rd president, Harry Truman.
We came over the hill on Highway 24 and were shocked to see several hundred people on the lawn and up the steps of the massive complex. The street access to the library had been cordoned off by Independence cops.
We rolled up to a black and white whose lights were flashing. A young officer was on his cell phone. “But Captain, surely you don’t expect us to gas our military veterans! A whole bunch of them are in wheelchairs, for heaven’s sake.” A long pause. “Yes, Sir. Yes, Sir. I understand. We’ll try to keep a lid on things until they get here.”
“Sure glad to see you,” he said as we approached his car.
“What’s going on?” Ox asked.
“It’s this damned government shutdown thing,” he said, exasperated. “It’s screwing up everything!”
He pointed to the crowd milling around. “Those are the vets that were supposed to have marched in the American Royal Parade. Some of them came a long way to march. When the parade was cancelled, they made arrangements to visit the library. Then came the government shutdown. The library is a federal institution and all of the staffers were furloughed as ‘non-essential,’ so the place is locked up tighter than a drum and, as you can see, we have some really pissed-off veterans. Some of them are making threats to break into the place. Of course, we can’t let that happen.”
“I heard you say, ‘we’ll try to keep a lid on things until they get here.’ Who’s coming?”
“Some politicians---state senators or representatives --- hell, I don’t know.”
“How can we help?”
“We have just enough manpower to keep the perimeter secure. It would be a big help if you could go down there and try to pacify the crowd until they arrive.”
As Ox and I crossed the big lawn, and started pushing our way through the agitated crowd, I thought that I recognized a couple of familiar faces.
“Isn’t that Ben Singleton and Archie Langston?”
“Sure is.”
“Walt, Ox,” Archie said as we approached, “aren’t you guys a little out of your jurisdiction?”
“We go where we’re needed,” Ox replied with a smile. “So what’s this all about?”
“Oh, nothing much --- just another instance of the government asking its veterans to bend over and take another one in the rear end. We were scheduled to march in the parade and Mother Nature took care of that, so we made plans to come here and now with this shutdown thing, we’re screwed again. Just one more disappointment to add to our growing list.”
“We heard from one of the Independence cops that some state politicians were on their way,” Ox said. “Maybe they have a solution. “Do you think you can help us keep a lid on things until they get here?”
“I’ll give it a try,” Ben replied, melting into the crowd.
I watched as he tried to calm some of the more visibly agitated veterans.
“How’s Ben doing?” I asked. “He seemed a little down.”
Archie shook his head. “Not good. He had another incident the night of the big storm. Tracy was terrified and, of course, Ben feels like he’s taken a step backwards. I was hoping that his being with the other vets this week would pull him out of it, but you can see how that’s turned out.”
At that moment, we heard a commotion and the Independence cops were clearing a path for a couple of suits.
“Looks like our elected officials have arrived,” Archie said, wryly.
The politicians stood on the library steps with bullhorns and in the next fifteen minutes, they spewed so much patriotic bullshit I wanted to puke, but the bottom line was, that using their considerable influence, they had persuaded the powers th
at be to open the library for a few hours.
Democracy at work.
My heart ached as I watched Ben push Archie through the crowd into the library --- one life marred by a physical disability and another struggling with demons that he might never escape.
“Gone! Everything’s gone!” Curtis muttered, smashing his fist against the wall in Muhammad’s small loft. “Guns, ammo, grenades ---we’ll have to start from the beginning.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Muhammad replied, trying to soothe his angry comrade. “Our brothers can send more guns, more grenades. We’ll just have to be more careful with our next target. Somehow the authorities must have known that we had something in the works. Who could have known that they would search every floor of every building and bring in dogs just for a parade?”
“That’s just it,” Curtis replied. “Now that they know about the attack on the parade, they will be even more vigilant. But I have an idea. We’ll use a diversion, a decoy, to throw them off the track. They’ll think that we’re hitting one target but we’ll actually be hitting another.”
“Sounds like you’ve given this some thought,” Muhammad said. “Have you chosen a target?”
“I’m working on it,” he replied, “but first there’s another matter we need to take care of.”
“What’s that?”
“An old cop. He was there when they found our stash in the first house. I thought that I recognized him and then it came to me. He was also the cop that foiled the plan at the All-Star Game. I even found a photo of him. Take a good look. It can’t just be a coincidence that the same guy shows up every time our plan goes down the tubes. It’s karma. I recognized the old guy for a reason. If our next attack is going to succeed, we need to take the old guy out!”
I thought I was through for the day, but when we returned to the station, I discovered the government shutdown wasn’t through with me yet.
The captain called us into his office. Mark Davenport was there.
“How would you like a few hours overtime?” the captain asked.
[Lady Justice 15] - Lady Justice and the Vet Page 9