Blind Justice

by James Scott Bell

  The waitress, holding a tray of drinks by a table, looked up and recognized me. I could tell by the smile. The smile quickly faded, and she shot a glance at the bar. Then she glanced back at me with a nod of her head toward the back. She wanted me to go there.

  I walked to the back of the place near the bathrooms and waited. I scanned the whole place from where I was.

  She joined me and pulled my arm toward the back exit. Next thing I knew we were out in the night air in relative quiet.

  “You shouldn’t come around here,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “Look, there’s people who know about you. I’ve heard them talk. You’re a big deal.”

  “I needed to ask you some questions. Are you on break?”

  “I shouldn’t talk to you.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but I think you’re in some kind of trouble. I don’t really care one way or the other, but I don’t want to see anybody hurt, you know? Why don’t you just leave Hinton?”

  “Why would anyone want to hurt me?”

  “You should just go.”

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  She hesitated and looked me in the eye. “April,” she said.

  “I need to ask you about Darcy Hazelton.”

  “No.”

  “Are you afraid of him?”

  “That whole family’s crazy. I don’t want my name in this. I don’t want to have to go to court.”

  “I just need some information, that’s all. I won’t call you as a witness or anything.”

  She appeared to be thinking about it.

  “Please,” I said.

  “Hurry.”

  “I think Darcy Hazelton killed Rae Patino. I think he was having an affair with her, and she got pregnant. He went to see her to talk her into having an abortion. That just happened to be when Howie Patino showed up. Darcy heard all this, got a knife from the kitchen, and then hid in the bathroom while Howie was pleading with Rae about his marriage. When Rae started talking about the kid to Howie, Darcy came in and shut her up. He got to Howie too, then escaped through the bathroom window.”

  April’s mouth fell open slightly. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “You know this town pretty well. People say things. Maybe you’ve heard something. Anything.”

  “Not about this.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Sorry.” An empty feeling opened up inside me, and I was about to pack it in and head home when April said, “Just one thing.”

  I snapped at it. “What?”

  “About what you just said.”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t think it happened that way.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” she said, “Darcy Hazelton is gay.”

  “What?”

  “Sure.”

  “I was told he was a ladies’ man.”

  “By whom?”

  “Somebody who knew him . . . Hang Ten or something.”

  “Hang Creswell?”

  “That’s the guy.”

  April laughed dismissively. “Hang Creswell hardly knows his own name, he’s so out of it. His brain should be sent to Harvard for marijuana research.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “The way you know things. This ain’t a large town, in case you haven’t noticed. I got to go. You should take off. Leave things alone here.”

  I reached in my pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill. “Can I tip you for your time?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “It’s okay. You probably need that more than I do.”

  I waited until she disappeared inside, then walked to the edge of the dark hillside at the rear of the place. Out in the distance was the highway that led to and from the town of Hinton. A sparkling of headlights was moving toward the town, and a stream of red taillights was moving away.

  Suddenly an odd feeling hit me, as if I had finally come to an understanding of some deep, mysterious secret. It felt like one of those word problems I had in elementary school. They never came easily to me, and I’d agonize over them until that moment when, all of sudden, everything was clear.

  Looking down at the cars below, I knew it was all meaningless. Every car had a person inside it. Every person was driving somewhere. But it didn’t matter where, because this was a world, a life, that would end, and it was empty without some meaning that was above it all. I realized then that this is what Pascal had said in different ways, and now I knew he was right.

  So what should I do now? Jump off the hill? Pascal had also written that we must all choose sides in this question of God. For or against. And if you looked at it like a bet, which would be the better choice? Choose God, and if you lose, if there is no God, you lose nothing, really. Choose against God, and if you’re wrong, you lose everything.

  My body filled with a longing to choose something that would be the final answer. Before I could think of anything else, I heard the crunch of gravel from behind me.

  Turning, I saw three dark figures. They were shadows, backlit by the lights of the tavern. But there was no doubt about their intentions. That’s when I knew.

  “Hello, Darcy,” I said.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

  And just how did he know I was here? I mentally fingered that the bartender or some other regular who knew Darcy and also me told him. My face was now well known in these parts, thanks to local TV and the Hinton Valley News.

  “It’s a great country, isn’t it?” I said. “Free.”

  “Not here.”

  The outlines of the other two showed weight-lifter arms and V-shaped bodies. This was going to hurt. I had to think fast. “What were you doing visiting Rae Patino at night?”

  The silence was testimony to confusion. Then he said, “What are you talking about?”

  “A witness can testify about your car being at Patino’s house. Now what about it?”

  “You got no witness.”

  “You weren’t having an affair with her, we all know that.”

  One of his man friends made a move toward me, but Darcy stopped him. “You better tell me everything you think you know,” he said.

  “I intend to,” I said. “Maybe you were seeing her to protect somebody. But who?”

  He waited like a coiled spring.

  “The Captain,” I said, revealing the information to myself the moment I said it. “It was your father who was having the affair with Rae Patino.”

  “You don’t—”

  “Did you kill her to keep her quiet? Or did your father do it?”

  His response was a scream, then a charge. All three converged with a dark fury.

  I made a move to the right, slipping on the tiny rocks, but with enough force to get clear of the initial thrust. A hand grabbed my left arm for an instant before I ripped free.

  I headed for the front of the building, hearing grunts behind me. Then I went down.

  Someone had hold of my legs.

  I hit the ground hard. Tiny jags shot into my forehead. I could feel the warmth of blood drops appearing. Then I was lifted up like I was a mannequin.

  My arms were held behind me tightly. I could see Darcy standing off to the side. The other muscle boy was right in front of me, and then he punched me on the side of the face. It felt like a brick.

  “Hold it,” Darcy said.

  There was a clanging in my head like the bells of Notre Dame. And I was sure my soon-to-be reworked face would make me look like Quasimodo. I sensed Darcy’s face next to mine. “You don’t know nothing,” he said.

  “Maybe I do,” I answered, having no idea what I would say next. I just wanted to delay the inevitable beating as long as possible.

  “I could snuff you,” said Darcy.

  “You won’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too many witnesses know you don’t like me. Why don’t you like me, Darcy?”

  “
You got no idea what I could do. You got no idea what goes on in this town. You’re nothing here. I could make it look like an -accident.”

  “Or set somebody up, like you did with Howie Patino?”

  The goon who held me yanked me upward. I’d been slumping. Darcy’s breath was hot on my face, his breath sour like he’d had a few beers. At that moment I felt a double shot of disgust—for Darcy and for myself, for having smelled like Darcy too many times to count.

  “You know what I’m gonna do?” Darcy said. “I’m gonna use you as an example. I’m actually gonna do it, and that’ll show him.”

  “Show who?”

  At that moment the goon who had hit me across the face said, “Hey, Darce?”

  “What?” Hazelton snapped.

  “You’re not really gonna off him, are you?”

  Whirling with obvious rage, Darcy said, “We’ll do what I say!”

  “I thought we were just gonna mess him up.”

  “You listen to me!”

  “No,” I said, “don’t listen to him.”

  “Shut up!” Darcy slapped me across the face. It didn’t hurt anything like the fist I’d gotten. “Carl,” he said softly, “I’ll take care of it. You know I can.”

  “I know,” Carl said, “but I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

  I felt just the faintest loosening of the grip on my arms. The still unnamed muscle boy who held me was probably just as fascinated with this debate as I was. Darcy was losing control of his little world.

  And I might not have another chance. Using the only weapon at my disposal, I snapped my head back as hard as I could. The crushing feeling told me I’d hit paydirt in the form of a nose. The guy who had me screamed—actually screamed—and let go of my arms.

  Out of old schoolyard instinct, I kicked out as hard as I could. I didn’t get Carl where it counted most, but I did get him in the knee.

  Darcy tried to grab my arm, but his grip was not nearly as strong as his buddy’s. I yanked away and pushed Darcy in the chest, and then I broke into a sprint, heading for the hillside.

  I figured that was my only hope.I heard Darcy yell, “Get him!” followed by the scuffing of feet on gravel. I didn’t bother to look behind me. Instead, like a long jumper, I took a leap over the edge and into the cold darkness below.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  PAIN IS A great clarifier. It forces you to think about survival—even while you’re rolling down a rocky hillside in the dark. Especially then.

  I hit rocks, brush, sticks, and possibly several nocturnal animals on my way down to the road. The only thing I didn’t hit was a tree, which is why my descent was not interrupted. All the way I kept trying to think of a way to keep from impaling myself on some limb, and I came up with no answers.

  By the time I thudded onto the shoulder of the road, I was warm with blood and numb with pain. But I was alive and apparently didn’t have any major injuries. At least I wasn’t aware of them. I lay there for a moment on cool grass and gently felt around my body. I’d be hurting for a long time.

  Light flashed around me. Headlights. A car coming. Could it be Darcy and his friends? No, it was too soon, but I was sure they’d be heading this way in no time.

  Knowing I was not going to make it on foot, I brought myself to my feet, fire shooting up my legs, and stumbled to the edge of the road. I waved my arms like a wild man at the oncoming car.

  But who was going to stop for the likes of me in the dead of night? Still, I had to take a chance.

  It was the right one. The car was a police unit. Even though it was the Hinton police, it was a welcome sight at the moment.

  The headlights stopped. Through the glare I saw a shadowy figure emerge and walk toward me. A terrible thought hit me. What if it was my old friend Officer Cheadle? He’d probably cuff me to a tree.

  “You all right?”

  The voice wasn’t Cheadle’s, and it sounded young.

  “No,” I said. “Can you give me ride?”

  The young policeman stopped, and I could tell he was in a ready position. I couldn’t blame him. I must have looked like Swamp Thing.

  “What happened?” the officer asked. “You’re hurt pretty bad.”

  “Can I explain it to you in the car?”

  “Where’d you come from?”

  “There’s some guys who want to mess me up.”

  “Did you come off that hill?” He sounded incredulous. Down the road I saw another set of headlights looking our way, like eyes.

  “Quick,” I said, limping toward the squad car. The young officer, who had probably never trained in confronting the walking dead, wordlessly followed.

  The headlights of the other car were almost upon us.

  “Man, you look bad,” the officer said. He was fresh-cheeked and thin, no more than twenty-two or three. He would have looked perfectly at home behind the counter at Dairy Queen. “I’ll get you to the hospital.”

  “Just go,” I said, glancing behind me.

  He followed my glance. “You think those are the guys?”

  “I don’t know. Do we need to find out?”

  “I guess not,” he said, sounding a little confused. With a shrug, he started up the unit and took off.

  The headlights behind seemed to stop dead in the road. If it was my fan club, they’d wait for another time.

  “Maybe you’d better tell me about it,” the officer said.

  “I want to tell Tolletson.”

  “The DA?”

  “Take me to the station.”

  “But you’re—”

  “Just do it. Radio ahead. Get Tolletson down there. Tell him it’s Jake Denney.”

  I washed up as best I could in the station’s public restroom. At least it was clean. My face was another story. I looked like I’d been in a scratch fight and lost. And a big, ugly, blue spot was breaking out all over the right side of my face. I had various points of pain up and down my body, and my clothes were caked with blood and mud. I wondered what they were saying out at the station desk.

  I didn’t have a chance to find out. As soon as I emerged, I was met by Benton Tolletson himself.

  He was wearing a crisp blue polo shirt and sharp slacks—the picture of country-club casual. Out of a suit, he looked almost human. But he had his usual expression of contempt on his face.

  “What’s this about, Denney?”

  “Nice to see you too.”

  “Come with me.”

  He led me past the leering eyes of a few Hinton police officers, and the kid who’d given me the lift. He still looked utterly confused.

  Tolletson opened the door to a small meeting room and in we went. Metal folding chairs were scattered around in haphazard fashion. A large whiteboard held a mishmash of officer names and assignments scrawled in blue marking pen. Was “arrest Jake Denney” one of them?

  “I get a call at night about you, I’m intrigued,” Tolletson said. He didn’t bother to sit or offer me a chair.

  “I know what you think of me, and at the moment, I really don’t care.”

  “Did you ever?”

  “No.”

  “Go on.”

  “But you’re the DA. You still have the obligation to see that justice is done.”

  “This about Patino?”

  “You bet it is.”

  “Then I’m not interested. You can take it up on appeal.” He made a slight movement to leave.

  “Will you knock it off!” I yelled, surprising myself. “Quit making everything a game, a competition, and listen to me for a change. Darcy Hazelton tried to kill me tonight.”

  A look I could not read registered on Tolletson’s face. That -didn’t surprise me. What was going on behind those eyes was always anyone’s guess. “Darcy Hazelton?”

  “Yeah, and his two buddies.”

  “They did this to you?”

  “They gave me this”—I pointed to the left side of my face—“and the rest was provided courtesy of your Hinton topography.”


  “Stupid.”

  “What?”

  “Darcy Hazelton’s always been stupid.”

  “And I thought he might be the guy who killed Rae Patino.”

  “Why?”

  “Several reasons. But I don’t think he did it. I think it was someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “Are you really interested?”

  “I’m listening, but I know you’re desperate. You’ve always been desperate.”

  That I could not argue with. Desperate is exactly what I was. “I called you in good faith. I want you to listen to me.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I think it was Darcy’s father.”

  “The Captain? Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “The fact that Darcy’s gay.”

  Tolletson scowled, and for the first time looked like I’d made an impact. “So what?”

  “So I don’t think he was having an affair with Rae Patino. But his father was. In fact, he was paying her for it. There’s no other way to explain that rack of skin and bones getting together with her. And when she got pregnant, she thought she’d hold out for a little more money, but he wasn’t buying.”

  Shaking his head, Tolletson said, “This is screwball. You have any proof?”

  “No, but you do.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  It was a shot in the dark, but I took it. “I think you know more about all this than you’re telling me. I think you know things about the Hazelton family and a possible connection to the murder. And I think you never followed up on any of it because, frankly, you had a winner with Howie Patino, and you just went for it. You went for a notch on the belt rather than the truth.”

  His jaw muscles twitched. “You’re nuts.”

  “Am I?”

  For a long moment he glared at me, wheels turning in his head. “I’ll prove it to you.”

  “How?”“You’re coming with me.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  IT WAS A bizarre situation.

  Here I was riding in a new black Cadillac with a man I loathed and who felt the same way about me, on a mission of criminal justice. At least that’s how Tolletson had put it. He said he wanted to clear things up tonight.

  We were going to see Warren Hazelton.

  It was unorthodox, yes, but Tolletson convinced me this was the right thing to do. I would stand in the room with him while he put the questions to Hazelton. Tolletson said he wanted me there to watch Hazelton’s eyes, as I would with any witness I was confronting in court. That would be enough to convince me, Tolletson said.