Color of Justice (23 page)

He moved through the house barefoot, the coldness of the floor sending waves of reality through his body. He walked into the living room and carefully approached the front door as the person on the other side rang the doorbell again. He stood so that his visitor could not see his figure through the little glass windows at the top of the door. He eased his frame by the wall, then slowly moved to the peephole. He was still half asleep and had to focus a minute before he saw who it was.

“Jesus,” he said as he opened the door.

Danny stood in the doorway, slouched over. He was unsteady on his feet, and Jim could tell he'd been drinking.

“Cavanaugh,” said Jim. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Had to see you, boss,” said Danny. “Needed to talk to you.”

“You're drunk, man. Come on in.”

“No,” said Danny. “If I come in you'll reason with me and shit and keep me from doing what I came to do. Nope, I need to stay out here with
my
reason, where I know I'm doing the right thing.”

Danny reached into his jacket and pulled out his badge and gun. He stuck it out like a kid who been playing with his father's pocketknife. “I'm done,” he said. “I quit.”

Jim was shocked. But he was a man who'd seen just about everything in the job, so he kept his face resolute. “What's this all about?” he asked.

“Everything,” said Danny. “I can't be sure that I'll function right anymore. See, I let this job become everything to me, and now I ain't got nothing left.”

“Look, man, we all go through this at one time or another. You fought too hard for it to walk away.”

Danny teetered a bit, then put the gun and badge on the floor of the threshold.

“I know, but I was fighting for the wrong thing.”

Danny turned and staggered off into the dark as Jim walked out into the cold night trying to reason
with him. Danny barely heard Jim's voice. Danny was looking up into the night and saw the vastness of the dark sky, littered with distant stars and suddenly, awfully, he was aware of how small he was.

Dr. Henry Vance pulled into a parking space in the underground garage downtown and turned off his car's engine. He sighed as he unstrapped himself from his seat belt. He had an urgent meeting with a wealthy patient that he did not wish to take. These days, he didn't even want to venture out of his home. Three people were dead from his inner circle, and he was, to say the least, a little stressed about it.

The passenger door of the car opened, and a big man got out. He walked over to Henry, who was still seated in the car. Next to them, an overhead light flickered off, struggling against its malfunction.

“Ready, Dr. Vance?” asked the big man.

“Yeah, Rudy,” replied Henry. He searched for the button on the fancy remote that locked the high-tech car and set the alarm as he got out. “Cheap-ass office building, can't afford to fix a broken light.”

Henry stood next to his bodyguard, aware of
being in his shadow. Henry was just under six feet tall, and weighed a thin one-sixty. Rudy was taller and larger, weighing in at about two-forty. Rudy stood in a defensive posture, checking out the area around them. The garage was quiet and smelled of gasoline and exhaust. The jingling of Henry's keys was like discordant music.

Henry heard the car's locks click. “Jesus,” he said. “Damned Japanese cars.”

They heard footsteps. Rudy turned and saw a figure come out of the elevator area and start toward them. Rudy moved out a few steps in front of Henry and took on a crouching stance.

The figure walked only a few steps then got into a car in a handicapped space near the elevator door and drove off.

Rudy eased in his stance, straightening up. “Let's go, sir,” he said.

Rudy and Henry quickly made their way across the garage. The sound of their footfalls bounced off the hard walls, making a hollow, popping sound.

“Shit,” said Henry, stopping. “I left my medical bag in the backseat. Go on up without me, Rudy. I gotta go back to my damned car.”

“I can't do it, sir,” said Rudy.

“Then you go lock the car and I'll go up.”

“Can't do that either,” said Rudy. “I don't get paid to leave you alone. Let's go together, sir,” said Rudy.

“I guess I'm safe whether I like it or not, huh?” said Henry, laughing.

“That's the plan, sir,” said Rudy. Rudy didn't care why the doctor needed protection. In Detroit, it could have been a million reasons. All he knew was that he had been a third-rate football player with a bad knee and this kind of work paid well.

They walked back to the car. Henry got to the car and took out his keys. The flickering of the broken light made Henry's job all the more difficult as he fumbled with the remote. Henry found the button and pressed it. Nothing.

“Dammit,” said Henry.

“Let me, sir,” said Rudy.

Rudy reached for the key chain as a man rose from behind the car next to them. The blinking of the light made the killer seem as though he were moving in slow motion. He came forward, his hand swinging outward toward Rudy's face. Rudy saw a dark object cover his vision, then sharp pain as something crashed into the bridge of his nose. Rudy yelled and dropped the key chain. A second later, the killer was slamming Rudy's head into the concrete pillar next to it. There was a dull cracking sound then Rudy slumped and fell to the ground.

Henry had already turned to run, but the killer was on him. Henry could see him more clearly now. It was a man, dressed in dark clothes. He was wearing something over his face with eyeholes in it. The killer raised a hand and brought it down toward Henry's face.

Henry stumbled backward to avoid the blow. He turned and moved away from his attacker, knowing that if he was caught, something terrible
would happen. This was what he'd been afraid of, what Rudy was for. He was foolish to have left his home, he thought.

The killer pivoted on one foot under the flickering light. He looked strangely graceful as he turned and inched closer to Henry, who was now terrified beyond reason. He opened his mouth to yell, but only a dry choking sound came out.

The killer slowed, taking measured steps, not wanting his prey to escape another blow. Henry backed toward the elevator, looking at the exit door. He was wondering whether he could make a mad dash for the door, but he knew he was not fast, and some lunatic was in front of him and surely quicker than he was. Still, his body was pumping adrenaline, and he felt that he could do it.

Henry was about to run, when a car pulled into the garage. The headlights flashed dully off the stone pillars, and the sound of its engine echoed off the stone walls.

“Hel—!” was all Henry got out before the killer clamped a hand over his mouth. A quick blow to the stomach followed, emptying Henry's lungs of air. Henry crumpled like paper. The killer dragged Henry between two vehicles as a Mercedes pulled up on the driveway. The Mercedes rolled right past Rudy's body, which was wedged between Henry's car and the one next to it.

The killer struggled to keep Henry quiet as the driver of the Mercedes found a space. It was across
the aisle and to the left, close enough that the occupants might hear them.

A well-dressed couple got out of the Mercedes and walked toward the elevator door. Henry made a muffled scream, which was cut off by another blow to the stomach. The man and woman stopped and looked around. The man took a step toward the killer and his captive, then stopped. The woman pulled on the man's elbow and the couple walked to the elevator and got in.

As soon as they were gone, the killer pulled Henry up and knocked him out cold.

The killer was breathing hard. This man was the hardest yet to get. They were on to him now, but he had expected this after Olittah Reese was taken. His mission was almost done, and he would not be deterred. He grabbed Henry's keys, popped the trunk on the car then stuffed him inside.

Danny sat with his father in the kitchen reading the
Detroit News
with dread. On the front page was a picture of the crime scene at Dr. Henry Vance's house on Edison Street in Detroit. The place was swarming with police and press when the snapshot was taken. The police department had kept a lid on the case, but this time, the media were all over it.

Henry Vance had been killed by the same killer who was stalking the members of the Castle.

Danny cursed silently as he realized that calling for protection to be put on the listed names had been too late. He'd left the case at the worst possible time.

Danny was staying with his father these days, the two men sharing a room and their guilt over Lucy's death. It was difficult living in a house with his mother's face on every wall and some memory of her in each corner. In a strange way it was a good thing, he thought. He was being forced to live with what had happened.

Danny had quit the case, but officially he was on leave. Jim Cole was not giving up. He wanted Danny to come to the most recent crime scene as his last official act. Danny knew what he was doing. He was hoping to give him the scent again, get his blood hot to get the killer. But it didn't work. Danny had to step away from the job to find out what the hell in his life made any sense.

Danny's attention went back to the news story. Dr. Vance's body had been found by a neighbor. He had disappeared while on his way to see a patient early yesterday morning. Dr. Vance's companion, Rudolph Garrison, was seriously injured and was in critical condition at Receiving Hospital. The article went on to say that Henry Vance's death was at the hands of a serial murderer. Danny could see Janis somewhere smiling about this.

The news story also contained a report from sources in the police department that the killings of Olittah Reese and the Bakers had “shockingly similar details.” Then it went on to cite an unconfirmed report that Dr. Vance's crime scene had been despoiled after the killer had covered the crime scene with flour. Dr. Vance was a widower and there were no witnesses.

Jim Cole and Chip Unger had formed a joint task force of SCU cops and FBI. They would mobilize and start the manhunt today.

Danny fought the burning in his gut to run out and take back his job. But his father needed him. Robert was all he had now, and that seemed to be much more important.

“He's a smart one,” Danny heard his father say. Robert was reading the
Detroit Free Press
. Henry Vance was front-page news there as well.

“Yeah,” said Danny. “I felt like I was closing in on his ass, too.”

“Sounds like he kidnapped that man and took him to his own house to kill him. He had a reason for that, don't you think?”

“I don't know,” said Danny, not wanting to get into it. “Let me fix you something to eat.”

“Why ain't you out there?” asked Robert.

“Because I'm here with you,” said Danny. “How about some eggs with cheese in them?”

Robert looked at his son and blinked once. Danny knew that look. He was processing something, analyzing his son's evasive response.

“You quit, didn't you?” asked Robert, “'Cause of what I told you about Lucy.”

“Yeah,” said Danny. “Last night.” He watched his father. Even though Robert had turned away, Danny could feel him thinking about him.

“Marshall know?” asked Robert.

“Not yet. I'll tell him today. I'm sure Erik has been trying to get hold of me all day.”

“You know, every time I got it bad in life, I blamed the job, too. Shit, I musta quit or thought about it more than fifty times.”

“I know what I'm doing,” said Danny defensively. “So, don't try to talk me out of it.”

“Didn't plan to,” sad Robert. “The job is more than an occupation. You get into it for whatever crazy-ass reason then you realize that you never
had a choice, that you didn't choose the job, it chose you. You think you can make your life better by quitting it, but you find out that the job is life.”

Danny didn't say anything. He made his father breakfast and felt like a good son. He cleaned up the house and drove his father to church.

Danny walked his father into the cathedral and felt a sense of relief. Robert was going to confession. Apparently, he'd been going every day since Lucy's death.

Danny watched Robert disappear into a confessional. He turned to walk away when he caught sight of an angel in the stained glass. Suddenly he was ten again and his mother was standing next to him in the packed church. She was telling him that the angel with the red hair was him when he was in heaven. Danny recalled the story with great joy. He actually believed that for a while.

But soon his happiness was pushed aside by grief. Her memory was going to haunt him forever, he thought.

Danny took a deep breath, turned on his heel, and walked into a confessional.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” said Danny after the priest entered the other side.

There was a moment of silence as Danny tried to remember the rest of what he was supposed to say.

“How long has it been since your last confession?” asked the priest. He sounded young to Danny. His voice was light and reedy like a girl's.

“It's been most of my life,” said Danny. “Since I was a kid.”

“And your sins?” asked the priest, urging Danny on.

“Yeah, right. I, uh, I killed a few guys, but you know it was in the line of duty. I'm a cop. I beat down some other people pretty bad, and that wasn't exactly cool, you know. I drink too much, but I'm trying to cut down. I live in sin with a woman, but you know, I love her.”

There was more silence as Danny could hear how badly he was screwing this up.

“Why don't you tell me why you came here?” asked the priest.

Danny was taken a little aback by this. He didn't remember everything about confession, but he did know that the priest wasn't supposed to push you.

“I kinda killed my mother,” said Danny.

There was a long silence then, “How?” asked the priest. The shock was apparent in his voice.

“I guess you could say I disappointed her to death.”

“So you only think you killed her?” said the priest, calming down.

“Yeah. I—she invested a lot in me and I just let her down. And while it ain't my fault, I still feel bad about it.”

The priest took a long moment and Danny guessed he was at a loss as to what to say to this.

“Death is only the doorway to salvation, my son,” said the priest. “I am more concerned with
your soul than your life. Life is fleeting but it is the pathway to the greater glory of God. Therefore, when death comes, we must get back to life.”

Danny was quiet as he contemplated the priest's wisdom. The priest told Danny to say a few prayers and sent him along his way.

Danny walked out of the church into the bright sun of the day. And all he could think about was getting a drink. He knew how bad it was to leave God's house and drink the demon rum, but even the philosophy of the church could not do what a stiff scotch could. He headed to the one place you could get a drink early in the day and no one would think you were a lush.

 

Danny tossed back his drink at the bar in the Motor City Casino. The place was surprisingly full for a weekday morning. The musical sound of slot machines filled the air, and the chatter of the patrons was like sweet whispers rather than the tired, drunken mutterings of gamblers.

The casino sat in place of the old Wonder Bread factory. Danny could remember driving into downtown on any given morning and smelling the heavenly odor of freshly baked bread. Across the street, old houses from the neighborhood stood in the contrast to the new building. The tiny, aged homes seemed to look at their new neighbor with envy. The image was clear. The city was determined to rise from its urban ashes.

Danny thought about what his father had said, about the job being life. He was probably right,
but for now he was a civilian and that was just fine.

More interesting was what the priest had said to him. “
When death comes, we must get back to life.”
But which life? Danny thought. Police life or some other life taking care of his father, a life without Vinny?

Danny finished his drink and wanted another, but thought he'd better cut himself off. He was relying on the stuff more than he should anyway.

Danny got up to leave then stopped short after he opened the door. He literally jumped back as he saw two men talking on the street. Danny stayed inside, but watched the two men with interest as they strolled toward the casino parking lot. Danny didn't know what to make of it, but it was an intriguing picture. Thomas Reese was talking with Judge Charles Eastergoode, the man who'd had an affair with Thomas's dead wife, Olittah Reese.

Now in his automobile, Danny followed the unlikely couple as they got into separate cars and made their way uptown. Reese led the way and Eastergoode kept behind him.

Danny was on fire with what it meant for these two men to be together. He was off the case, but it seemed his father was right. The job was bigger than his tiny intentions about quitting and his pitiful guilt about his mother.

It could be Reese had forgiven Eastergoode for what the latter had done. Danny didn't know much about Reese, but he was not betting on that
one. The average man will at least think about killing the man who slept with his wife.

Suddenly Danny grew nervous. What if Reese planned to kill Eastergoode? Maybe this ride was the last one Eastergoode would take. One thing was for certain, whatever the real story was, it was rotten. There was no good reason these two men should be together.

Thomas Reese turned on Seven Mile and Woodward, rolling into Palmer Park. Eastergoode followed. Resse and Eastergoode parked their cars then got out.

Danny drove past them, and parked on a residential street. He caught back up with them as they walked through the park. Their backs were to Danny, but it looked as if Reese was doing all of the talking. He was gesturing and looking at Eastergoode, who kept his hands at his side, and stared straight ahead.

Danny ducked behind two trees as they found a park bench and continued to talk. He wished he had some high-tech listening device, so that he could hear what they were saying. But in the real word, all a cop usually had was his brain, and his knowledge of people involved in crime.

It was possible, Danny thought, that Reese and Eastergoode had killed Olittah and made it look like the Baker murders. That was nice and neat, but it didn't explain why the Bakers and Dr. Vance were killed.

Danny noticed an old black man stroll out and take a seat near Reese and Eastergoode. Reese im
mediately shut up, eyeing the old man with suspicion. The old man sat a moment, then got up and left. This gave Danny an idea. He took out a pad and pen and made a note of the old man, what he was wearing and the like. Then he looked around to see what else he could use. There was a kid on a bike wearing a red striped shirt. He zipped by the suspects. A garbage truck stopped nearby and emptied a basket. Danny got it all down.

The two men talked for another twenty minutes then they got into their cars and drove away in different directions.

Which one? Danny thought. Who would his target be? Eastergoode had already exhibited guilt for being in an affair with the deceased. On the other hand, Reese was clean in the eyes of the investigation so far. This made him a more likely person to have something bigger to hide. He was the man to go after.

Danny followed Reese back to his office at DaimlerChrysler. Danny waited until Reese was inside, then he left, hanging around the city, giving himself the rest of the day to make his story plausible.

Danny came back to Reese's office building at six and waited. Soon Reese emerged from the building, got into his car, and went home. Danny followed closely, practicing what he was going to say, talking to himself like a crazy man.

Reese drove into Sherwood Forest and Danny was not far behind. He was always mindful of the rich folks in the city. The homes were huge and
fancy and the cars in the driveways made you wish you earned more money. Danny noticed for the first time that Reese was not driving a fancy car, but a common one, a compact Chrysler.

Reese went inside his house. Danny waited another half hour to let him get comfortable, then he walked up to the door. He rang the doorbell and waited for him to answer it.

“Officer?” said Reese innocently as he looked out a little window in the big wooden door.

“We need to speak with you, Mr. Reese,” said Danny in his most official tone. “It's about your wife's murder. We have a suspect.”

“Really, who—?” He stopped himself and opened the door to let Danny in.

Danny moved in quickly, drawing him away from the front door so he wouldn't see that there was no “we” as he'd just stated. Danny went into Reese's living room and stood by the sofa.

“Who is it?” he asked urgently. “Who killed my Olittah?”

Danny stood there for a moment, not speaking. He wanted Reese to become anxious.

“You know I'm not here about a suspect, Mr. Reese,” said Danny finally.

“What?” said Reese. “Then I don't know what you're talking about. You say you have a suspect—then you say you don't. What the hell is this all about?”

“It's about you and Judge Eastergoode and what you talked about today.”

This hit Reese like a dead weight. He even took
a step back away from Danny, as if the cop were going to grab him and slam him into jail. This was the reaction Danny was hoping for, but he still didn't know a thing about where he was going. He had to be cool, or Reese would see through him.

“Right now,” said Danny, “my partner is questioning Judge Eastergoode. Normally, we'd pick one of you up, then squeeze you, but there's no need for that after what we got today at Palmer Park.”