Lady Justice on the Dark Side (Volume 19) (15 page)

    Dad was, of course, shocked when he saw three strangers rise to greet him.

    “You’re full of surprises, Son. You neglected to tell me this was a party.”

    “It’s not exactly a party, Dad. These are just some folks that I thought you should meet. This is Dr. Elizabeth Crane and these are her nephews, Billy Bob and Oren Thrasher.”

    “Did you say, Dr. Crane?” Dad asked with genuine concern. “Are you sick?”

    “No, no, nothing like that.”

    “Maggie? Is she okay?”

    “I’m fine Dad,” Maggie said, bringing in a plate of cookies. “What would everyone like to drink? I have tea, coffee and water.”

    After Dad and Bernice were seated and Maggie had taken our drink requests, I handed Dad Chloe Fisher’s diary opened to the page where she talked about being stranded and rescued by a young, handsome trucker.

    “I’d like you to read the next couple of pages and then we’ll talk about why we’re all here tonight.”

    As soon as Dad started reading, I saw the breath catch in his throat and watched him struggle to hold back the tears. When he was finished, he closed the diary and handed it to me.

    “I remember that night like it was yesterday. It was a beautiful experience with a beautiful young woman. I have no regrets and I’d do it all over again if I had the chance. I’ve thought of Chloe so many times over the years and wondered what happened to her. I never knew she remembered me as Johnny Butterfly.”

    Dr. Crane addressed Dad for the first time. “Maybe I can shed some light on what happened to Chloe Fisher after your night together. A few weeks later, she discovered she was pregnant and nine months later she gave birth to a daughter --- your daughter, John.”

    She took Dad’s hand. “For seventy years, I believed Terrence Thrasher was my father, then suddenly I discovered that my real father was the mysterious Johnny Butterfly. Ever since, I’ve been anxiously waiting to meet my biological father and meet the man that saved my mother’s life on that cold, snowy night. It’s an honor to finally meet you, Dad.”

    My father was speechless. A rarity for him.

    “She never forgot you, John,” Dr. Crane said, pulling the jewelry box with the inlaid butterfly from her bag. “I also found this after going through more of her things,” she said, holding up a thin necklace with a tiny gold butterfly. “She never forgot her Johnny Butterfly.”

    She placed the jewelry box and the necklace in Dad’s hands.

    “I --- I don’t know what to say,” he said, caressing the butterfly inlay, “except I’m sorry I didn’t know about you. So sorry I couldn’t have been more a part of you and your mother’s life.”

    “Which is probably a good thing,” I replied, “since you already had Mom and me back here in Kansas City and Mark and his mother somewhere out in Kansas.”

    I could see Dad bristle. “I know I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life. I wasn’t the best husband and father, but I have no regrets. That’s just who I was and I’ll treasure each of those memories until the day I die.”

    Bernice had been silent up till now. “You’re an incurable romantic, John Williams. That’s why I love you. I’m just wondering though, if there are any more surprises waiting for you out there.”

    “You never know,” he replied with a wink. Then a thought struck him. “I’ve fathered three children. One is a successful realtor and decorated police veteran, another is a director at Homeland Security and the third is a doctor. I think that definitely says something about my parenting skills.”

    “Either that,” I replied, “or it lends truth to the old saying, ‘if you can’t be a good parent, you can at least be a bad example.’”

    “Either way,” he said, “I proud of the way you all turned out.” He motioned to Billy Bob and Oren. “Exactly how do these guys fit into the picture?”

    “My mother married Terrence Thrasher and had one son, Gabe. These are Gabe’s sons --- your grandsons --- well, half grandsons.”

    “Well I’ll be damned!” Dad said. “Never thought I’d be a grandpa. Walt screwed that pooch by not having any kids. What do you boys do?”

    “We just started our own cleaning company,” Billy Bob replied proudly. “We’re looking for new clients if you know of anyone.”

    “I just might,” I said. “Are you boys familiar with the Three Trails Hotel on Linwood? It’s just a few blocks from your apartment.”

    Both Mary and Willie were getting up in years and I figured it was about time to relieve them of the responsibilities of cleaning and mowing. Mary could still keep the place rented and under control and Willie could still do the minor repairs.

    Billy Bob and Oren exchanged glances. “Well sure. Everybody on Linwood knows about that dump. It’s full of old crazies and mopes working out of the labor pool. Weird stuff is always happening over there. I’ve heard that the old lady that runs the place has whacked a couple of people, some statue that was stolen from the King Tut exhibit was found in the basement, and just a couple of weeks ago, the place was shot up by a car full of black gang-bangers.”

    I wasn’t sure exactly how to proceed. Everything Billy Bob said was true.

    “I --- uhhh --- own the place, and let me assure you that there is a reasonable explanation for all those events. Anyway, are you interested in the job or not?”

    They whispered for a minute. “We’ll take it, but it’s going to cost you big time. Think of it as hazardous duty pay.”

    I expected nothing less. I knew that as long as Mr. Feeney was there defiling the bathrooms, they would be earning every penny.

    The rest of the evening was spent getting to know one another and exchanging life stories. Dr. Crane said she would leave Chloe’s diary with Dad so he could read about her life. All in all, it was a great success.

CHAPTER 17

    It didn’t take long for word to get around the building that my father had sired another child out of wedlock.

    Naturally, Jerry couldn’t let such an event slip away without adding his two cent’s worth.

    He latched on to the old 1950’s Daniel Boone ditty:

   
Daniel Boone was the daddy of them all

    From the mountains to Ohio.

    Daniel Boone heard the western prairie call

    From the mountains to the Ohio.

    Soon, we heard his voice echoing through the hallways:

   
Johnny Williams was the daddy of them all

    From the mountains to the Ohio.

    Johnny Williams heard his secret lover’s call

    From the mountains to the Ohio.

    The Professor declared that Dad’s exploits were extraordinary and he should consider writing his memoirs. Jerry said the title could be
Fifty Shades of a Grey Haired Old Man
.

    Willie, when hearing the news, just shook his head. “Yo daddy is like de ole lady what lived in a shoe and had so many kids she didn’ know what to do. What he shoulda done was go into de truck stop bathroom and put fifty cents in one o’ dem latex machines.”

    In one sense, he was right, but if Dad had done that, there would be no Mark Davenport and no Elizabeth Crane, and the world would have lost two good people.

    Dad had certainly spent his life on the dark side of fatherhood, and yet, things had worked out pretty well for all concerned.

    Maggie and I had finished supper, settled into our easy chairs and flipped on the TV to catch the evening news.

    Big mistake.

    We were used to our local newscasts being depressing, but tonight’s broadcast hit rock bottom.

    The program always opened with
‘Breaking News’
flashing across the screen after which, the anchor would switch to a reporter somewhere on the city streets.

    This time, the reporter was standing in front of a modest bungalow and the lights from multiple police cruisers were flashing in the background.

    “A three year old girl has been pronounced dead, the victim of a senseless drive-by shooting. A neighbor tells us that about five this afternoon, a car pulled up in front of the house and fired multiple rounds, one of which struck and killed the child. This is the third drive-by shooting that has claimed a child’s life in the last month. Police are urging anyone with information to call the TIPS hotline.”

    “How horrible!” Maggie declared. “What is wrong with people?”

    I didn’t have an answer. In my five years on the force, I asked myself that same question almost every day.

    The next story focused on another rally at the J.C. Nichols Fountain on the Country Club Plaza. Some people were carrying placards reading ‘Don’t Shoot!’ Others were wearing T-shirts with the words, ‘I can’t breathe!’ These were, of course, references to the Michael Brown and Eric Garner incidents. The demonstrators that were interviewed talked in no uncertain terms how police brutality and harassment had to stop.

    Suddenly, the screen switched back to the news anchor. “This story just in. Kansas City Police have just shot and killed a young black man who had been involved in a car-jacking incident. For the latest on this story, let’s go to our reporter on the scene.”

    The screen switched to a reporter standing in the parking lot of a local shopping center.

    “In a memo just issued by the police department, it appears that officers were responding to a 911 call about a reported car-jacking when they encountered a young man holding a knife to the throat of a female hostage.

    “After a brief discussion, the man released the hostage and charged the officers with his knife. One of the officers fired his weapon striking the man in the chest. Twenty-two year old Leroy Sheetz was pronounced dead at the scene.”

    The name sounded familiar and suddenly I made the connection.

    “Damn!”

    “What?” Maggie said, startled.

    “The guy that has been running with DeMarcus Tweedy. The captain told me his name was Lamar Sheetz. I’d be willing to bet that Leroy Sheetz is his brother. If that’s the case, then there’s going to be hell to pay.”

    I had thought that things couldn’t get any worse, but they just did.

    My premonition came to pass the next day.

    I was in my office setting up a new file cabinet when the phone rang.

    It was Ox.

    “Hey, Partner. Bad news.”

    “What now? Are you okay? Surely not Amanda again.”

    “No, we’re both fine. It’s Corey Chapman and his partner, Wilson Freeman.”

    I recognized the names of two officers who worked out of our precinct.

    “What happened?”

    I could tell Ox was struggling to hold it together.

    “They had just stopped a car for an illegal left turn. The driver had already moved on and Cory and Wilson were just idling at the curb finishing up the paperwork when two men approached the squad can and opened fire point blank. They didn’t have a chance.”

    “My God! So both of them are --- ?”

    “Yes, they’re both gone --- murdered in cold blood.”

    Then it hit me. “You said they were attacked by two men. Have they been identified?”

    “Yes, the whole thing was recorded on a street cam.”

    “Let me guess. DeMarcus Tweedy and Lamar Sheetz.”

    “You got that right. No doubt it was payback for what happened to Leroy Sheetz.”

    My blood ran cold when I remembered Tweedy’s words when I was on my knees in the storage shed with his gun against my temple. “The Good Book says, ‘an eye for an eye,’ an’ dat’s just what’s gonna happen. Every time a cop kills one of us, we gonna kill some of them.”

    “I suppose they got away clean.”

    “They did. Every cop in the city is looking for them. First Vince and now Chapman and Freeman. We’ve gotta stop these guys.”

    My heart ached for the families of the fallen officers and I was in a real funk when there was a knock on the door.

    I peeked through the peep hole lens I had recently installed and saw it was Billy Bob and Oren.

    “Hey Uncle Walt. I hope we’re not interrupting. I’ve got something I think you’re gonna want to hear.”

    I was still having difficulty getting used to the ‘Uncle.’ “Sure, boys. Come on in.”

    “We just came from the Three Trails.”

    Much to Willie and Mary’s delight, the Thrasher brother’s new cleaning company,
Two Men and a Mop
, had taken over the cleaning duties at the hotel.

    I was fearful when I saw the concerned look on their faces. My worst nightmare was that Mr. Feeney and his frequent aromatic deposits in the john had driven the boys away.

    “It all started with Mr. Feeney,” Billy Bob began.

    My heart sank when I heard those words. “Please don’t tell me you’re quitting.”

    “No, no, nothing like that, although the second time he stopped up the stool in the #3 crapper, the thought crossed our minds.”

    “What then?”

    “We were vacuuming the hall when Feeney found us. He was all hot and bothered. He said he had gotten hold of a bad burrito and was tossing his cookies when it happened.”

    “What happened?”

    “He barfed his false teeth and flushed them down the stool. He begged us to try and get them back.”

    “What did you do?”

    “I went down to the basement and traced the four inch stack to a cleanout trap back in a crawl space next to the east outside wall. I wiggled back there and was unscrewing the cap from the cleanout when I heard voices outside. I figured it was a couple of the tenants, but when I heard what they were saying, I knew it wasn’t.”

    “So what were they saying?”

    “I peeked through a crack in the foundation and saw two black guys. Uncle Walt, they’re planning to torch the hotel Saturday night.”

    “Are you sure?”

    “Absolutely! They said as soon as the tenants smelled the smoke, they’d come pouring out of the building. It would be like shootin’ fish in a barrel. One said it was payback for what the old cop had done.”

    “Thank you, Billy Bob. You boys did good. This may be the opportunity we’ve been looking for to get these guys off the street.”

    Then a thought struck me and I had to ask. “Did you find Feeney’s false teeth?”

    Billy Bob grimaced. “Sure did. They were hung up in a big ball of hair in the trap. I took them up to Feeney. He thanked me, rinsed them under the faucet and plopped them right back in his mouth. It was
really
gross!”

    The term ‘potty mouth’ just took on a new meaning for me.

    My next stop was the precinct.

    I told the captain what Billy Bob had heard.

    “I hate to use your hotel as bait,” he said, “but you’re right, this just might be our chance to nail these two. We’ll get Mary and all the tenants out of the building and into a motel the day before. We don’t want to put anyone in harm’s way. I’ll have teams standing by in unmarked cars and snipers on the surrounding roofs. There’s no way Tweedy will give us the slip again.”