“That is quite the little fantasy you have spun, Truman,” she said. “And, that is what it is—a fantasy. I am not Lady Justice. I did not shot George. I told you before I was at a charity event the night he died, and that is exactly where I was. If you check, the people who were there with me can confirm that. I do not know the other man you named—David Hoff, I think—and I certainly did not shoot him. And, you cannot prove otherwise.”
I smiled back her.
“You know, I said something similar to myself when I first suspected you were Lady Justice and had shot George and David. ‘Truman,’ I said to myself, ‘how could Claire have shot George when people witnessed her attending a charity event the same evening he was shot?’ And then I said to myself I really needed to stop speaking aloud to myself. If someone overheard me, they would think I was crazy.
“You having an alibi for the night George was murdered had made me immediately dismiss you as a potential suspect,” I said. “After all, you could not be in two places at once. And then it hit me once I realized you were Lady Justice of the Sentinels: you did not have to be in two places at once. What if the Claire who was at the charity event was not really you at all, but rather, your Sentinels teammate Doppelgänger? With his shapeshifting powers, impersonating you would have been child’s play. I am not sure if he knew why you wanted him to impersonate you. I would like to think a Sentinel would not knowingly be an accessory to a murder. But, you are both a Sentinel and a murderer, so what the heck do I know?
“As for the issue of proving all this, you’re right. I could not accuse a Hero like Lady Justice of a double homicide if all I had was some convoluted theory and no proof. Then, I thought about the gun you shot George and David with. If I could find your husband’s gun, a ballistics test would demonstrate it was the gun that shot both men. Now, if you were smart, you would have disposed of the gun after you shot George. But, you weren’t smart. You’re arrogant and too used to using your powers to do things. It has made you sloppy. So, you stupidly hung onto the gun, and even shot David Hoff with it. My gut told me you would continue to hold onto it so you could eventually return it to wherever your husband stored it. If you did not return it, once he realized it was gone, he would probably report it stolen. Your husband reporting stolen the same caliber of gun that killed your lover would bring attention to you.
“So, I concluded you still had the gun. But, where? Here at your home would be the obvious choice,” I said. I was watching Claire carefully. She seemed entirely comfortable. “I even thought about breaking in and searching the house when no one was around. But, if I found the gun here and the state tried to use it against you as evidence, a sharp lawyer would argue that I, a Hero licensed by the state, am a quasi-state actor who obtained the gun illegally, and therefore the gun could not be used against you as evidence due to the Fourth Amendment’s protections against unreasonable searches and seizures.” I smiled. “A bright law student who’s a friend of mine taught me the phrase ‘quasi-state actor’ recently. I’m quite proud of it.
“But then I thought, ‘What about Sentinels headquarters?’ Like I said, I’m a Sentinels fanboy and have been for years. I know you all have sleeping quarters there for each team member, though not everyone uses them. Lady Justice’s room would be the perfect place to hide a gun. Who would ever think of looking there for a gun used in two murders?” As I watched her carefully, Claire’s expression tightened a bit and her eyes widened. Her reaction heartened me, and I proceeded.
“So, I got into touch with Ninja,” I said. “We took the Hero Trials the same year back in the day. Once I laid out the whole situation for her, she was only too happy to help. It did not even take that much convincing. She really does not like you very much, you know. Ninja searched your room, and lo and behold, found a .45 caliber handgun. The ballistics are being checked by the police as we speak. You and I both know they will find the bullets that killed George and David were fired by that gun.”
A range of emotions played on Claire’s face. I had her, and she knew it. She stared at me. I smiled at her. I was aiming for winsome. If I missed winsome and hit intimidating instead, I would not have minded.
After staring at me for a bit, Claire brought her wrists together. There was a brief flash of light, and Claire was gone. She was replaced by the costumed form of Lady Justice. It was one thing to hypothesize Claire was Lady Justice; it was quite another to see the transformation take place in front of your eyes. Even though I knew her to be a cold-blooded killer, Lady Justice was still breathtaking.
Lady Justice smiled at me. It was the toothy smile of a pit viper.
“Congratulations on your detective work, Truman,” she said. “I must admit I underestimated you.”
I shrugged modestly. I was Truman the Temperate.
“Even a blind squirrel stumbles upon a nut every now and then,” I said. “There’s one nut I haven’t been able to crack, though. Why? Why kill George after sleeping with him and paying him for so long?”
The usual look of arrogance on Lady Justice’s face slipped for a moment. For just a second, she looked like an actual human rather than a piece of majestic statuary.
“You know, the funny thing is, I actually cared for George,” she began in a soft voice. “Don’t misunderstand me: I know what he was. He was a blackmailer and a lecher. But, he was genuinely attracted to and interested in me.” She glanced down at her majestic form. “The real me, Claire, not as I am now. Lady Justice’s appearance is little more than a costume, a mask that is a side-effect of my powers.
“When I was young, I was quite beautiful,” she said. “For a young woman, beauty—real beauty—is a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing because life is easy for you. People are nice to you, you get jobs you are not quite qualified for, and men stumble over themselves to try to be with you. It’s a curse because, just as you get used to your looks greasing the path of life for you, then your looks start to fade a bit. And then you realize people are not quite as nice as you thought, getting jobs is not quite as easy as you thought, and men are not hanging on your every word because you are fascinating and witty. Each year it gets worse and worse. You are less and less pretty, and life gets harder and harder, especially because you never had to develop the skills to cope with life as a non-beauty.
“And, then you start to fight back against Father Time, to try to recapture what you have lost. You get an injection here, an implant there. But, it’s like trying to hold onto a fist full of sand: despite how hard you try, the sands of time stop for no one. What starts off as subtle work becomes more obvious, more radical with the passing years. And, almost before you know it, you are fifty-six, and you are a caricature of your former self. A Frankenstein’s monster of filler, saline, and medical advancements. I see how people look at me when I’m Claire. Though a few men like women who look like real-life Barbie dolls, even those men want women who are young and fertile. Most people think I’m a freak when I’m walking around as Claire. They grimace at me when they think I’m not looking; they laugh at me when they think I’m not listening.
“George was different, though,” Lady Justice said. She looked wistful. “He was a young, virile, handsome man who could have just about any woman he wanted. And, he wanted me. Old, freak show me. When I was in bed with him, I felt young again. Desirable. Beautiful. When he first threatened to show the recordings of us together to my husband, I was of course angry and upset. Being married to Edgar allows me to live a lifestyle I greatly enjoy. It allows me to be a Hero as I don’t have to make a living. I did not want George to jeopardize that. But, I also felt that George and I had a real connection. Even though I soon realized he made his living by sleeping with and blackmailing women like me, I knew deep down in my soul George was attracted to me. The kind of chemistry George and I had in bed can’t be faked. And, you’re right: George’s powers let him see that I was Lady Justice. Most men would leap at the chance to sleep with a woman as beautiful as Lady Justice. But, George never ask
ed me to transform into her when we were together. Not once. When I asked him why, he told me he preferred to be with me. The real me.
“So, I started paying George the money he wanted,” Lady Justice said. “But, I continued to sleep with him. I did not want to give up the kind of validation being with him gave me. At first paying George was not much of a problem. Edgar gives me a generous allowance, so I paid George out of that. But, eventually it got to the point where I was spending so much money on George that Edgar would start to notice the missing money. So, I ended things with George. Or, at least I tried to. When I would not see him anymore or return his calls, George called me at Sentinels headquarters and threatened to expose me, not only to my husband, but also to the other Sentinels. I could not let that happen. Not only would Edgar leave me, but Lady Justice would be a laughingstock. I can see the tabloids now: ‘Lady Justice is really an old lady who pays for sex.’
“So, to pacify him, I paid George two more times. I even slept with him again. It was my way of saying goodbye to him, I guess. Then, I found where he lived. He never brought me or any of his other women back to his place. But, I’m Lady Justice: finding where he lived was not that hard. Though he was surprised to see me, George let me right in when I showed up on his doorstep. He probably thought I was there for another roll in the hay.” She paused. A look of sadness and satisfaction fought for supremacy on her face.
“I shot him in the chest,” she said. Her eyes shone with tears. “I’ve killed people before, but never with a gun. It was the easiest thing in the world to do, though. Just point and pull the trigger.”
I was under no illusions as to why she was telling me all this. She did not intend to let me out of the room alive. In her mind, I was already dead, and dead men told no tales. But, I wanted her to keep talking. I needed to hear the whole story.
“What about David Hoff?” I asked.
Lady Justice nodded.
“George told me you were buzzing around him. I did not want you to find out about him and me. So, in the form of Lady Justice, I got David to send some men to see you. He owed me a favor. I had looked the other way on a matter a while ago when I could have turned him in. His men were supposed to scare you off.” She shook her head in disgust. “They failed spectacularly. I guess I should have known better than to send normal humans after a Hero, even a minor one like you. That’s why I later hired Thunder and Lightning to come after you before you blundered into my involvement.”
I was pretty sure she had insulted me. If my ego were more fragile, my feelings would have been hurt. But, I was Truman the Tough.
“After you paid a visit to David, he got in touch with me and let me know,” Lady Justice said. “I did not want you to connect Lady Justice to George through him, so I shot him too.” She shrugged. There were no tears for David. “David was scum. I did the world a favor.”
“So why the visit to my office?” I asked.
She shrugged again.
“After Thunder and Lightning failed to eliminate you, I decided if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. If no one was around, I would take you out then and there. Since people in your building unfortunately saw me come in, I instead thought I would just see what you had found out so far. You were uncooperative. So, I left and figured I would take care of you later,” she said.
“And so, here I am, still very much un-taken care of,” I said.
“And so, here you are,” she agreed. She moved her arms up quickly so they were extended in front of her and pointing at me. I was ready for her. I had been poised for action the entire time I had been talking to her. I knew she did not intend on letting me out of that room alive. She never would have admitted to all the things she had done if she intended to just let me walk out of there.
I was out of the chair and rolling across the floor before the energy blast left her fingertips. The blast hit the chair right where my body had been a split second before. The chair exploded. Debris flew everywhere. Some of it hit me, but I was not conscious of it at the time. I was too busy. I rolled to one knee. My gun was out. I concentrated and fired. Bullets hit Lady Justice once, twice, three times. They bounced off of her to no effect. I think it was when the fourth bullet hit her that she started laughing. She just sat there with my bullets ricocheting off of her as I emptied the clip of the gun. The gunshots sounded like artillery fire in the confines of the high-ceiled room.
After I had finished firing and the echoes of the gunfire died away, the room was still, like the eerie silence that follows a clap of thunder.
Lady Justice looked at me from where she sat. Contempt oozed out of her every pore.
“You are such a fool,” she spat at me. “How could you possibly think mere bullets would stop a Hero as powerful as I?” She stood. I thought she staggered a bit as she did so. She raised her arms to blast me again. Or, at least she tried to. She could not raise them high enough to point at me. She staggered to the side, almost falling.
“What’s happening to me?” she gasped. She was having trouble speaking, as if moving her tongue was an effort. Her skin had a slight bluish tint to it.
I stood myself, facing her.
“The bullets were nothing but a slight diversion, a way to distract you while I used my powers on you,” I said. When I had fired on Lady Justice, I had been concentrating not only on shooting her, but also on using my powers on her blood. “Even with a Meta like you, your blood is mostly water. I’m using my water powers to prevent oxygen atoms from dissolving into your blood. In your defense, there was no way you could have known I was capable of doing that. I haven’t tried something like this since I was a kid. What you’re feeling is the effects of hypoxemia. Frankly, I’m shocked you’re still on your feet.”
As if on cue, Lady Justice’s eyes fluttered, and then closed. She fell face forward into the table in front of her. The glass table shattered with a crash. Glass flew everywhere. I turned away from the flying glass instinctively. I felt shards biting into my neck and through my clothes into my side.
I turned back around. I winced as I pulled a large sliver of glass out of my neck. My ears rang and my side hurt.
I was tempted to continue what I was doing to Lady Justice’s blood and end her life. Didn’t she deserve it? When I killed Thunder and Lightning, I had felt badly. I still did. Even though Thunder and Lightning were supervillains, wasn’t Lady Justice really the one who deserved to die, though? She was a licensed Hero. Being a Hero meant something, or at least it was supposed to. It was why getting a Hero’s license was so hard. Lady Justice was supposed to set an example, to live up to a higher standard. But, she had not. She had killed two men in cold blood, plotted to murder me, and was the reason why Thunder and Lightning were dead.
I stood over her body. I was torn. I could tell the police Lady Justice died in our fight. I could save society the time and expense of warehousing her. I would be doing the world a favor.
“I would be doing the world a favor.” Hadn’t Lady Justice said something similar when she told me about her shooting David Hoff?
I had a sudden flash of the feeling of God-like power I had when I was a teen and killed all those animals with my powers. I shuddered. What was I doing? I stopped using my powers that prevented oxygen from binding with Lady Justice’s blood.
I knelt down to check her. She had a pulse and was still breathing. Good. Though the siren song of power over life and death was strong, I was no cold-blooded killer like her.
I stood back up. I pulled out a spare clip for my gun. My hands were shaking a bit. It was a post-fight release of tension and fear. Fear of Lady Justice, yes, but also fear of what I had just contemplated doing. Who or what might I become if I let myself use my powers unscrupulously? Perhaps I would become like Lady Justice. The temptation was always there. Power corrupted, and absolute power corrupted absolutely. With all the power we possessed, Heroes knew that better than most.
I replaced the empty clip in my gun with the full one. I cha
mbered a round. I thumbed on the safety, and holstered the gun. Lady Justice was down for the count. But, as I have said before, it was better to have a loaded gun and not need it than to need a loaded gun and not have it. As Hamlet said, readiness was all.
I pulled out of my pocket a digital recorder. I turned it off. I had recorded my entire conversation with Lady Justice where she admitted to the murders of George, David, and the attempted assassination of yours truly. I had lied to her about finding the gun used to kill David and George in Sentinels’ headquarters. Me saying it was there was but an educated guess, a stab in the dark she had confirmed by her reaction to me talking about the gun being there. Though I did take the Hero Trials the same year Ninja did, I did not know her well at all, and certainly not well enough to get her to search the room of a fellow Sentinel.
If I had not tricked Lady Justice into admitting the murders, I feared she would have gotten away with them. The theories and suppositions I had before confronting her were not enough to get a warrant to search her room at the Sentinels’ mansion. I had thought that on my own, but a conversation with Ginny confirmed it. But, along with my recording of Lady Justice and the gun in her room we would now be able to acquire legally, I had little doubt Lady Justice would be going to jail for a long, long time.
Trudy the housekeeper came into the room, no doubt having heard all the racket. It would have been hard to miss. Her eyes were as big as saucers. She looked like a scared little kid. We both looked down at the prone body of Lady Justice.
I was glad I had not killed her. Yes, she and the Sentinels had saved the world many times over. But, when you were a Hero, there were certain lines you could never cross regardless of how much good you did in the past. There were rules Heroes needed to follow. Otherwise, the world would devolve into chaos and become a place of bared tooth and sharpened claw, a world where might—and might alone—made right. It was not a world I wanted to live in.
Superhero Detective Series (Book 1): Superhero Detective For Hire Page 15