Blue Justice (14 page)

“Hello?” I said in a low raspy tone.

“Detective Jackson please?” said the woman’s voice on the other end.

“Yeah, this is he,” I said looking at my watch.

“I’m sorry to call you so early in the morning; this is Agent Margaret Faulkner with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” 

I wiped my eyes.  “If this is some kind of joke, it’s not funny,” I said.

“I’m afraid not Detective.  I know it is early, but I wanted to catch you before you and your wife left out this morning.

The thought of her knowing my wife was with me was less than comforting.

“Ok, what do you need from me?”  I asked.  I looked at the coffee pot on the table and walked over to it. 

“Well, Detective, like I said, I am Agent Margaret Faulkner, and I need for you to meet me this morning in the hotel lobby.  It’s about the murder case last night.”

I filled the pot with water from the sink and listened to her.  “Okay, what time?”

“Shall we say around 8:00 A.M.?”

“Okay, I’ll be there.”  I hung up and poured the water into the coffee maker. 

Charlotte stirred from her sleep. 

“What time is it?” she asked. 

“A little after five,” I told her.

She yawned.  “Who was that on the phone?”

“Just the FBI,” I said.  I flipped the on button to turn the pot on.

“FBI?” she asked, surprised.

“Yep,” the FBI.  She wants to meet me in the lobby at 8:00 and talk about that murder case last night.

“Oh--another ‘she,’ huh?”

I knew that was coming.  She never really got over that I had worked side by side with a beautiful female detective in New Orleans a month ago.  Of course, nothing had happened, but she let me know that I at least should have told her and trusted her instead of trying to keep it a secret.  She told me a man looked more suspicious when he hides something from his wife.  Instead, he should come right out and say it.  It actually made sense.

“At least I’m telling you about it up front this time.”

I tore the plastic off the cups and placed them by the coffee maker.  She smiled.

“Would you like a cup?”  I asked.

“No, baby, I’m gonna go wash my face.” 

She brushed up against me and patted me on the behind and kissed me on the cheek. 

“All right,” I said.  “That’s how you got pregnant in the first place.”

I kissed her on the cheek.  I then held her and tried to kiss her on the lips.  She covered my lips with her hand. 

“Uh-uh, after I brush my teeth.”

She walked in the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

I poured myself a cup of coffee.  I pondered the conversation I just had with Agent Faulkner and wondered what else she knew about me—after all, she was the FBI.

Chapter 3

Agent Margaret Faulkner met me in the lobby right on time.  She was a white woman, probably 5’2, with brown eyes and brown hair with some gray, and maybe in her late 50’s.  I sighed a little in relief.  She looked plain.

“Detective Jackson,” she said extending her hand.  Her handshake was firm but her hands were soft.  She held out her credentials for me to read them, much longer than I would have.  I assumed she was proud of her job.

“How can I help you?”

“We need to talk at my office downtown.  I would appreciate it if you would join me.”

I could have probably told her no but I was intrigued as to why the FBI was interested in this case.  The case had nothing to do with me except the information I gave the investigators, but it must have had a lot to do with the FBI.

“Sure, why not.”

The drive to the FBI building was smooth with not much traffic, probably because it was Saturday morning.  She parked her car in the parking deck and we took the elevator up to her floor.  She had a small desk with a couple of chairs and her office smelled minty.

“Can I get you anything—juice, coffee, or water?”

“Coffee will be fine.”

While she started to make the coffee, I looked at a photo on her desk.  It showed an elderly couple in the center and surrounded by women—one being agent Faulkner.

“You have a lovely family.”

She turned around from the coffee pot and saw me looking at her family photo.

“Thank you.”  She turned back toward the coffee pot and finished putting the grounds in the filter.  After she was done, she went and sat in the chair behind her desk. 

“My mom passed recently,” she said.

“I—am—sorry.”

“It’s quite all right.  We just have to keep on keeping on, don’t we?”

I waited for her to start the conversation.  Why I was I there, in her office, on a Saturday morning?

She opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of files that looked older than her age and mine combined and placed them on her desk.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Before I get into that, Detective, I want you to think back to last night and fill me in on everything the victim Beatrice Bishop had told you before she died.”

I didn’t know her name.  It was a pretty name that matched a pretty face.

“I already gave my statement to the investigators on the scene.”  She was about to say something but I cut her off.  “But if you wish, I will repeat it just for you.”

I gave her the same information I had given the investigators at the scene letter to letter.

“Detective Jackson, the files you see on my desk are from cold cases dating back to 1911.”

“Okay, what does that have to do with 2015?”

“Precisely my point, Detective,” she said pushing to files to me for me to look them over.

“In those files are crimes similar to the one last night.”

She took out three more files and laid them on her desk.  This is why you are here on a Saturday.

Those files looked fresh and new.

“So what does this all mean?” I asked.

“Have you ever heard about the Atlanta Ripper murders in 1911-1912?”

“No, I just remember the Atlanta Child Murders back in the late 70’s and early 80’s when I was a kid.”

I looked at the photo of the lady in the first file.  She was black and pretty and probably was in her 20’s.

“The Atlanta child murders were horrible and we caught that killer, but this guy back at the turn of the century was just like Jack the Ripper in London back in 1889—they both killed many women and vanished into thin air.”

I could tell she prided herself on being knowledgeable. 

“Okay so, if both of those guys vanished and it’s been well over a hundred years for both men to be alive today, then who is doing the killing?”

“A copycat,” she said.

I acknowledged what she said by nodding my head.

“The victim last night is the only one to have survived long enough to give us some detail as to what this guy may look like.  And being that you were told directly by…”

“Hold on, okay, you want me to say this publicly don’t you?”

“Detective, I assure you that it is in the best interest of the city right now.”

“Oh so since I’m black and a detective, and the dead black woman told me that a tall black man stabbed her; you want me the black detective to smooth the possibly upcoming race riot before it starts, right?”

“Detective, you are an officer of the law; plus I took the liberty of calling your chief and asking him if you could assist us in this matter.”

I stood up. 

“WHAT!  You called my boss without asking me…”

She threw her hands up in surrender.  “Relax detective, I only asked in case you didn’t find the idea of speaking publicly appealing.”

“You damn right, I don’t!”

“We need your help on this case then.”

“How?”

“You and I will partner up and investigate.  I did some checking up on you and you have dealt with psychos before.  Besides, it would keep you out the press and the public will see a some-what well-known detective working with the FBI to catch this guy.  The public will feel safer and the city will hopefully not be destroyed.”

“I have my wife with me and we are here for the weekend.”

“Sorry detective but we need you and duty calls.  Do you want this guy attacking your wife?”

The words pierced my heart like a hot double edged sword.  It reminded me of the time Charlotte was abducted.  I calmed down and thought. 

“Okay, I will help, but I want 24 hour protection around my wife starting right now!”

“That was already done before you got in my car at the hotel.  Now let’s get down to business.”

All I could do was look at her.  She was smart and witty.  I actually liked her but I wasn’t going to let on.

Chapter 4

“I’ll get out in front of the hotel,” I said.  Agent Faulkner didn’t say anything.  She pulled in front of the hotel double doors and parked.

“Thanks for the ride.”

She looked at me with a twisted smile and gave me her contact card.

“Agents Riley and Jefferson will introduce themselves when you get to your floor.  If you have any questions or need anything, please call me.”

I took the card, nodded, and walked through the double doors.

When I got up to my floor, it was just as she said.  Both agents were standing in the hallway.  They wore black suits and had ear pieces in their ears.  I assumed she had told them I was coming up.  They came over and introduced themselves. 

Agent Riley spoke first.  He was young, pale and had a crew cut.  Agent Jefferson was tall and black and stood erect, as if he’d been in the military.

We talked briefly as I slid the key in the door. 

Charlotte met me at the door. 

“Jared, who are these guys?” 

“They are FBI agents.”

“FBI agents?...Why?”

“I’ll explain later, but for right now, let’s go down to the restaurant, I’m starved.”

Charlotte and I walked into the elevator with Riley and Jefferson following close behind.  We didn’t say anything on the ride down. 

The restaurant was not crowded and we had our choice of the best tables.  The lunch time buffet looked good.  Charlotte and I sat down close to the hot bar and salad bar.  The agents sat a few tables over to give us some privacy, I suppose. 

The waitress took our orders for sweet tea and water and we both went up to the hot bar for the entrées.  Everything looked appealing to the eyes.  Charlotte and I both chose the roast beef, macaroni, collard greens, and cornbread. 

We went back to our table, said grace, and ate in silence for a few minutes.

She looked at me.  I knew what her eyes were asking.  I wiped my mouth and told her what she wanted to know.

“Really, they think it’s a copycat?”

“Yeah,” I said glancing over at the agents.  They were eating as well, and glancing our way at times.  Maybe they felt that babysitting was beneath them also.  I turned my attention back to Charlotte who was eating for two and doing a good job of it.

“How about we go for a walk,” I asked when we had finished the meal.

“That sounds good,” she said.

“Let’s give our government bodyguards a little exercise,” I said, finishing my plate.

We started our walk south of the hotel.  We came to a park and Charlotte sat in one of the swings.  I pushed her gently.  I wanted us to try and enjoy as much of our weekend as possible but in the back of my mind, the words agent Faulkner said were echoing in my thoughts. 
What if this guy attacked your wife?

We got back to the hotel around three.  I could see that our bodyguards were hot and pissed.  I didn’t care.  I really didn’t want to be here in Atlanta anymore.  I wanted to be back home with Charlotte where things felt right and simple. 

I started to slide our room key but noticed a piece of paper sticking out from under the door.  The agents noticed it too.  I reached down and picked it up by the edges.  It was a habit.  Perhaps a good habit to keep in my line of work.

I opened the folded piece of paper.  My whole demeanor changed.  Agent Jefferson looked over my shoulder and read the paper and immediately got on his ear piece.  They both drew their guns and took my slide card and went in our room and searched it all over.

Charlotte had a look of fear in her eyes. 

“C’mon detective,” said agent Riley, “you and your wife cannot stay here.”

“What’s going on” asked Charlotte.

“We are wasting time, let’s go,” said agent Jefferson.