Lady Justice and the Magic Dragon, page 2
part #29 of Lady Justice Series
“Are you sure?” Ox asked.
“Of course I’m sure,” he replied indignantly. “Miss Coe, I’m hungry. May I go get cleaned up for supper?”
Marsha looked at Ox. He nodded.
“Sure, Billy. Go ahead.”
Ox stuck out his big paw. “Thanks, Billy. You’ve been a big help.”
“Just catch the bad guy. He shouldn’t have hurt Santa.”
“We will. I promise.”
Billy turned to me. “Thanks for staying with me. Puff and I were really scared. Will I see you again?”
That certainly took me by surprise. “Uhhh --- sure. I’ll stop by and see how you’re doing.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Maybe you, me, and Puff can play for a while.”
“I’d like that.”
After he was gone, Ox turned to Marsha. “Billy’s the best witness we’ve had. Can you give me some details about his background?”
She sighed. “It’s a tragic story. Billy’s father was an abusive alcoholic. One evening he came home drunk and started beating Billy’s mother. This wasn’t the first time little eight-year-old Billy had witnessed the attacks. As he usually did, he hid in the kitchen pantry. On previous occasions, the abuse only lasted a few minutes, but not that night. Baker beat his wife senseless and she fell dead just a few feet from where Billy was hiding.
“Neighbors, hearing the screams, called the police. When they arrived, Baker attacked the officers with a kitchen knife. They shot in self defense. Billy saw the whole thing. In less than ten minutes, he had witnessed the violent deaths of both of his parents. The officers found him huddled in the pantry sobbing and rocking back and forth.”
“I can’t imagine the horror,” Amanda said, wiping away a tear.
“It was more than a child could handle,” Marsha replied.
“I suppose that explains why Billy is --- different,” I said.
“Exactly,” Marsha replied. “He has a condition called arrested development. His young mind just couldn’t cope with the violence he had witnessed. The human psyche is a wondrous thing. In order to protect himself from the emotional trauma, Billy retreated into a fantasy world where he felt safe and secure.”
“I suppose Puff the Magic Dragon is a big part of that,” I said.
“It certainly is. After witnessing a particularly bad beating, Billy was an emotional wreck. In order to comfort him, his mother gave him the necklace and told him that Puff was his friend and would keep him safe. That was a week or so before she was killed. He hasn’t taken the necklace off since then.
“Although Billy continued to grow and mature physically, his mind is still that of an eight-year-old. To leave that safe place, Billy would have to intellectually come to terms with the violent deaths of his parents, and that’s just too painful, so Billy, as you see him today, is an eight-year-old mind in a twenty-eight-year-old body.”
“That explains a lot,” I said. “He was almost frantic, worrying that Santa wouldn’t be ready for Christmas. He still believes, doesn’t he?”
Marsha nodded. “All his childhood fantasies are intact.”
“But he seems to be coping. He rides the bus and has a job.”
“Yes, he has learned to adapt, but it is all within the context of his fantasy world. The bus, for example, is Puff’s boat with billowed sails.”
“Yes, he mentioned that.”
At that moment, Ox received a text. I could tell by the look on his face it wasn’t good news.
“The bell-ringer died on the way to the hospital. It’s not just a larceny case anymore. Now it’s murder, and Billy Baker is our only witness.”
CHAPTER 2
Sid Collins threw down the newspaper in disgust. “Damn! The old guy died!”
“I thought we agreed on no rough stuff,” Loren Allen replied.
“How was I to know the dude would fight over $57 in change? Makes no sense. I didn’t mean for it to happen. We struggled. He fell and hit his head. Now we’re in deep shit. The cops will be all over this now that it’s murder.”
“What do you mean, ‘we’? You’re the one what iced the guy.”
“Yeah, but you drove the getaway car in the commission of a felony. In the eyes of the law you’re as guilty as me.”
“Great! Just great! At least no one can identify you. We got that goin’ for us.”
“Uhhh, about that,” Sid replied grimacing, “we got a problem there too. There was only one guy anywhere around. He was waitin’ at the bus stop. I was wearin’ my mask, so I didn’t really care. In the struggle, Santa pulled off the mask --- just for a minute --- but I think the guy at the bus stop saw my face.”
“Aww, man!” Loren moaned. “A murder rap. I can’t do that kind of time. What are we gonna do?”
Sid rubbed his goatee. “We have to find the guy. It shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll bet he rides that same bus every day. Once we find him, we’ll nab him and put him on ice. They can’t convict without a witness.”
“You mean whack the guy? Another murder?”
“We’re already on the hook for one. What difference does one more body make?”
Sid and Loren waited in their van a block from the bus stop.
“There!” Sid said, pointing. “That’s the guy.”
They watched as the man patiently waited at the corner and eventually boarded the city bus.
“Let’s follow and see where he gets off,” Loren said. “He looks like a wimp. Shouldn’t be too hard to take him.”
Fifteen minutes later, the bus stopped in front of the Mayview Rehabilitation Center. The man stepped off the bus and went inside.
“I think we caught a break,” Sid said, smiling.
“How do you figure?”
“The guy lives in a rehab center. There’s a sheltered workshop just up the street from that bus stop. I’ll bet he’s some kind of retard. Even if he saw me, he’s not exactly a reliable witness.”
“I hope you’re right,” Loren replied as they pulled into traffic.
The next morning, Loren was skimming through the Kansas City Star.
“Shit!” he cried, slamming his fist on the table.
Sid jumped, sloshing his coffee. “Jesus, Loren. What was that all about?”
He handed the paper to Sid. “That break you were talking about just went out the window.”
Sid’s mouth flew open when he saw a police artist’s rendering of his face on page 2. The article stated that a witness to the latest Santa mugging had given the police a description of the attacker.
“Damn!” Sid muttered. “This changes everything.”
“I’ll say it does,” Loren replied, “and what has to change is you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look at the description, black hair, mustache and goatee. That’s all gotta go.”
“Awww, man!” Sid moaned, rubbing his chin, “I’ve had this since I was a teenager.”
“Well, if you wanna stay out of the slammer, you’d better kiss it goodbye.”
An hour later, after a trip to the drug store, Sid looked at himself in the mirror. The mustache and goatee were gone and his hair was dishwater blonde.
“Good Lord!” he muttered. “I look like Elton John!”
“At least you don’t look like the guy in the newspaper. What now?”
“Now we get rid of the one guy who can identify me.”
CHAPTER 3
I couldn’t stop thinking about Billy.
At the tender age of eight, he had watched in horror as the two most important people in his life perished just a few feet away from where he was hiding. The trauma was so severe that he retreated into a make-believe world with his friend, Puff, where he felt safe and secure. Now, to add insult to injury, he had just witnessed the murder of another significant figure in his life, Santa Claus. I couldn’t help but wonder if this new tragedy had driven him deeper into his fantasy world.
During my five years as a cop, after a particularly trying day of dealing with the horrific things people do to one another, I would come home to my safe haven, pour a glass of Arbor Mist, and let Maggie, my wife and soul mate, hold me and tell me everything would be okay.
Billy never had that safe place to comfort him so he created one of his own.
That night, after leaving Billy at the Mayview Center, I shared Billy’s tragic story with Maggie.
“Just before I left, Billy thanked me for staying with him. He wondered if he would see me again.”
“What did you tell him?” Maggie asked.
“I told him I would come by and see how he was doing.”
I wasn’t surprised when she replied, “You’ll do more than that. He obviously feels safe with you. At a time like this, he needs all the moral support he can get. Let’s have him over for dinner.”
Maggie has a big heart. That’s why I love her so much.
I rolled past the sheltered workshop about the time Billy would get off work. My plan was to pick him up, drive to the Mayview Center, and get permission from Marsha Coe to let Billy spend the evening with Maggie and me.
A block and a half away, I spotted Billy heading to the bus stop. I saw an open space along the curb and was about to pull into it, but a van beat me to it. At first I was pissed, but a moment later my anger turned to horror as I saw two masked men jump out of the van and grab Billy.
He struggled, but I could see that with two against one, he was fighting a losing battle.
I slammed on my brakes, shoved the car into park, and stepped onto the curb. Until just recently, I hadn’t been carrying my gun. It felt awkward, and no matter how I carried it, it was always poking me. Kevin had chastised me more than once and he had been right. In my line of business, trouble finds me sooner than later, and when it does, it’s better to be armed.
Especially in a situation like this. At seventy-four, and barely a hundred and fifty pounds, I’m not exactly an imposing figure, and as Dirty Harry muttered in the movie, Magnum Force, “A man’s got to know his limitations.”
Instead of jumping into the fray and exposing my limitations, I pulled my weapon and shouted. “LET GO OF HIM AND GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES!”
Naturally, the two were startled, seeing an old codger pointing a revolver at their heads, but instead of dropping to their knees, they shoved Billy into me, momentarily throwing me off balance. That one moment was all they needed.
“Let’s get outta here!” one of them bellowed, and a minute later, they were in their van roaring down the street.
I put my gun away and helped Billy to his feet. “Are you okay?”
“I --- I think so,” he replied, feeling his body parts. “Just scared. Do you think those were the men who ---?”
He couldn’t bring himself to actually say the words.
“Probably so,” I replied. “They know you’ve seen one of them.”
At that moment, a cop car pulled to the curb. A bystander had called 911. A half hour later, after we’d all given our statements, I loaded Billy in the car. Of course no one, including me, had gotten a license number.
At the Mayview Center, a concerned Marsha Coe met us at the door. “Billy, you’re late. Did you miss the bus?” Then she spotted me. “Mr. Williams! What in the world is going on?”
After I shared our harrowing experience, she was shocked. “If you hadn’t been there, they would have taken Billy. Tell me again why you happened to be there at exactly that time.”
“I had planned to pick him up, bring him here, and ask if he could have supper and spend the evening with my wife and me.”
She seemed confused. “Why would you do that?”
“Let’s just say it’s because we care.”
Billy looked at her expectantly. “Could I, Miss Coe? Please!”
“Well,” she said, patting his arm, “I suppose it would be okay.”
“It’s settled then,” I said. I turned to Billy. “Why don’t you go wash up. I’ll wait for you here.”
As Billy trotted off, Marsha took my hand. “This is very kind of you.”
“I don’t want to alarm you,” I replied, “but we have a real problem. That wasn’t a random abduction attempt. I didn’t want to say anything to upset Billy, but he’s in real danger. Those were undoubtedly the men who killed the bell ringer. They know from the photo in the Star that he can identify one of them. He’s the only one, and if he disappears, so does the case. I have no doubt that they’ll try again.”
“Oh dear! Why aren’t the police protecting him?”
“They just don’t have the manpower to watch him 24/7. They warned him to be careful, but I don’t think he comprehends the danger.”
“What should we do? We can’t just lock the poor man in his room. His job and his daily routine are his safety net.”
“I agree,” I replied, “but we have to limit the times of the day when he’s most vulnerable. Is the sheltered workshop pretty secure?”
“It is. There’s quite a large staff. One counselor for every six employees.”
“Then the trip to and from the workshop is when he’s at risk. I might have a solution to that. My partner and I could provide transportation until they catch these creeps and he’s out of danger. Would that be okay with you?”
She was shocked. “Of course, but I don’t understand. We can’t pay you. Why are you getting involved in all this?”
“I used to be a cop. Let’s just say that ‘serve and protect’ is ingrained in me. Maybe it’s for me as much as for Billy.”
At that moment, Billy returned. “All washed up,” he said, proudly. “Can we go now?”
I looked at Marsha and she nodded.
“You bet! Let’s make like a cow pie and hit the trail.”
Billy giggled. “That’s funny.”
Marsha gave me a fake frown and then a wink. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re not such a good influence after all!”
On the ride home Billy seemed to be in deep thought.
“Walt, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“The other day, that bad man hurt Santa. The policeman told me Santa had died. But today Santa was back on the corner ringing his bell. It was a Santa, but not the same Santa. How can that be?”
The question took me by surprise. I had no idea how to respond.
He pointed as we passed another intersection. “And look. There’s another Santa. I’ve seen lots of them. They’re everywhere.”
When I didn’t respond, he wiped a tear from his eye. “Santa isn’t real, is he? Tell me the truth.”
I had never been a parent, but I could imagine the heartbreak one feels when his child realizes for the first time that something he has believed in all his life isn’t real.
“Billy, I --- I ---.”
“It’s okay, Walt. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I’ve always wondered how one guy could deliver presents to all the kids in one night. And reindeer don’t really fly. I looked it up on Google.”
I struggled to find some words of comfort. Then I thought about a verse from Puff the Magic Dragon.
“Billy, do you know what a symbol is?”
He thought for a moment. “Is that like one thing that stands for another thing?”
“You got it. In the Puff song, it says that Jackie brought Puff strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff. I’ll bet you’ve never done that, have you?”
“I don’t even know what sealing wax is.”
“The point of the song is that Jackie loved Puff, brought him presents, and they played together. I’ll bet you’ve done that.”
“Well, yeah.”
“So for you, the strings and sealing wax aren’t real, but symbols of what you and Puff actually do. And the bus. You said it was like the boat with billowed sails.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“Good. That’s what Santa is all about. When we think of the jolly old guy in the red suit who brings presents, we think of giving and receiving. Even though he isn’t a real person, he’s a symbol of the joys of Christmas where people share with those they love.”
“Like the Santa on the corner. People give him money and he gives it to the poor people so they have something to eat.”
“Yes, exactly.”
I could see the wheels turning. “I like that. It makes a lot more sense than all that other stuff.”
I heaved a sigh of relief, but it was short lived.
“So I guess the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy aren’t real either. Rabbits don’t lay colored eggs. I Googled that too.”
I wondered how parents coped with these ‘coming of age’ questions before Al Gore invented the Internet.
CHAPTER 4
“Jesus, Sid!” Loren said as they sped away. “That was a close one! Who was that old guy with the gun?”
“I have no idea. Maybe it was just some dude who was passing by. Everyone has a gun these days.”
“But what if it wasn’t? What if they’ve hired somebody to watch the guy knowin’ we’d be comin’ after him?”
“I guess that’s possible. We need to watch and see if he shows up again. If he does, then we may have to take them both out.”
“Good Lord! We started out just snatchin’ a few pots for walkin’ around money. Now we’ve killed one guy and you’re thinkin’ about killin’ two more?”
“I know, I know. It wasn’t supposed to go down this way, but we gotta do what we gotta do if we wanna stay outta jail.”
Before leaving my apartment building to pick up Billy, I had rounded up the building’s other residents to give them a heads-up. My dad and his squeeze, Bernice, are in their nineties and occupy the two units on the second floor. The Professor, also in his nineties, and Jerry the Joker live on the first floor, and Willie, my good friend and maintenance man, lives in a basement studio.
I wanted them to hear Billy’s story in case their paths happened to cross. They needed to know that in spite of his appearance, he should be treated as an eight-year-old and not as an adult.
