Blue Justice Page 11

  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.

  I grabbed Charlotte by her hand and led her to the elevators. We got downstairs to a waiting unmarked black sedan.

  “Get in,” ordered Riley. “We have to get you two away from here.”

  I nodded and placed Charlotte in the back seat. She had to adjust a little to get inside because of her pregnancy.

  “What was on that piece of paper?” Charlotte asked.

  “It was a note from the killer,” I said, as I pulled out my phone.

  For the rest of the ride, everybody was silent except Agent Jefferson speaking into his collar.

  The route was the same route Faulkner and I had taken earlier. We got out of the car in the parking deck and took the elevator to Faulkner’s office. Agent Faulkner met us at the elevator. She escorted us into her office and waved Riley and Jefferson to stay outside.

  I sat Charlotte down in the seat I was in earlier.

  “Hello Mrs. Jackson, I am Agent Margaret Faulkner with the FBI. I am sorry for all of this but it is for your protection.”

  Charlotte looked at me. I kept my eyes on Faulkner.

  “How did he know where we were?” I asked.

  “I have no idea,” said Faulkner, “you still have the note?”

  I pulled the note from my pocket and gave it to her.

  “You have a pretty wife, just like the nurse.

  Watch the news.

  ___Baron Samedi”

  Charlotte started breathing fast after hearing the words of the note. “What does that mean?”

  I kept my eyes on Faulkner. “Yeah Agent Faulkner, What—does—that mean?”

  She looked at me as if she wished she could disappear at that moment. I went on and asked her the question she tried to avoid answering.

  “When were you going to let me know the nurse was dead?”

  “I thought it best not to say anything right away. That is why I placed Riley and Jefferson to watch over your wife.”

  I slammed my fist on her desk. “What else have you held back from me?”

  “What do you mean, detective,” she said, trying to assert her authority. I wasn’t about to give her the pleasure.

  “You knew damn well that killer knew where we were and you also knew he had killed the nurse sometime between last night and this morning--didn’t you!”

  “She tried to look me in the eyes without flinching but her eyes went down and to the right. I knew I had been right. I sat back in my seat.

  “What do we have to do with all this,” asked Charlotte.

  “We were bait,” I said, “at least you were.”

  Charlotte placed her face in her hands.

  I was getting madder every second I sat there.

  “C’mon Charlotte, we are getting the hell out of her and going back home—right now!”

  Charlotte had tears coming from her eyes. “Why,” she asked agent Faulkner.

  Faulkner broke her silence.

  “We have been trying to catch this guy for a long time now. I’m sorry this happened to you. We tried to give Ms. Wells protection also, but we were too late. She left the hospital this morning at around 1 A.M. and headed home. Her body was discovered next to her car on front of her apartment.”

  I thought back to that night about Lenora Wells. She was pretty just like the other victim.

  “How did you find out she was dead?” Faulkner asked me.

  “I searched the news on my phone before we got here.”

  Faulkner nodded.

  “Well, we have to get you two to safety.”

  “I already took care of that,” I said. “A good friend of mine is coming to pick Charlotte up and take her back home.”

  Charlotte looked at me. I held her hand. “I have no choice now, baby.”

  She nodded that she understood.

  “Detective if you like we could…”

  “Nevermind,” I said, interrupting Faulkner. “You all have done plenty already.”

  The four hours it took for Chad to get there seemed like four years.

  “Who is this?” Faulkner asked as I was placing Charlotte in the front seat of Chad’s unmarked sedan.

  “This is Detective Chad Caddis. Chad this is Margaret Faulkner, FBI.”

  They shook hands. I briefed Chad on what I could and told him Charlotte would fill him in more. I couldn’t help looking around to see if we were being watched.

  I waved bye at them as Chad pulled out the parking deck. Charlotte didn’t want to go and I didn’t want her to go either, but this guy—this killer, did way more than disrupt my weekend. He had placed his sights on my wife.

  And I am not going to rest until I get him.

  Chapter 5

  I told Faulkner that I was going to stay at our hotel and in the same room. If that bastard wanted his ass handed to him then I was the right person to give it to him. I asked Faulkner to keep the agents away from the hotel so that he would think everything was normal and to take me by Nurse Wells place so I could see the scene.

  “Whoever this guy is, he already feels that he is one step ahead of the police,” I said, looking out at the scenery as Faulkner was driving.

  “I’m afraid you’re right. We haven’t been able to get any kind of line. We do have DNA evidence but you know like I know, that will take some time.”

  I was glad to hear that but also knew the truth that DNA was a waiting game.

  I wondered why he used Baron Samedi as a name.

  “What do you know about Baron Samedi?’ I asked Faulkner.

  “I looked the name up and it showed him to be a mythical witch doctor of some sort from Haiti.”

  “Yeah, that is correct. Also, he was known as the man who cannot die. He is said to be centuries old and walks through time like a phantom but looks human like you and I. Some people call him the ‘L
ord of the Dead.’

  She was impressed. “So is that what you got from that phone of yours?”

  “No, the James Bond movie, Live and Let Die, plus yes I did google him too.”

  She shook her head with a slight laugh.

  We drove out of the city and got off at the Villa Rica exit. We headed south for a few miles and turned left on a narrow road. The apartments looked new with trees and flowers of every color including pink camellia’s or pink perfection, which were Charlotte’s favorite, that added a bit of southern charm to the landscape.

  I got out of the car and started looking around. I had a methodical way of doing things. First, I would look at the place where the body was found and then fan out from there.

  It was getting dark and I didn’t have much time.

  “Did anybody question the neighbors?”

  “Yes, but nobody saw or heard anything.”

  “The news said that she was strangled and her throat was cut after she died,” I said.

  “Yes, that’s what happened.”

  “I don’t believe that nobody saw anything. There is always one nosey person in every neighborhood. We just got to find them.”

  I looked up to the second floor of apartments and saw someone pulled their blinds down and stared at us. I didn’t say anything about it at first. Faulkner scratched her head and pulled out her phone. I wanted to come back later without Faulkner and talk with that person but there was too much happening and I didn’t want to chance the person not being here later.

  “I found the nosey neighbor,” I said.

  “Where?”

  “Second floor, third apartment from the right.”

  She looked up but when the person saw us, they released the blinds.

  We walked upstairs to that apartment. The door opened before we knocked.

  A middle-aged black woman appeared in the doorway.

  “C’mon in quick,” she whispered.

  We walked inside.

  “I knew you all would come back,” she said, “I have been waiting for you. I’m Gertrude Harris.”

  Faulkner and I looked at each other and then at the woman.

  “I am Detective Jackson and this is Agent Faulkner with the FBI.

  I asked the first question. “What can you tell us about the murder last night?”

  She looked out through her blinds as if she was nervous. Once she was satisfied, she turned to us and started talking.

  “I saw him—I saw him kill her.”

  My heart started racing. Faulkner was excited too but tried to hide it.

  “He was tall, black and wore a baseball cap,” she said.

  “Did you see what he looked like?” I asked.

  “No, I couldn’t see his face but he was black I’m sure and he drove a black car, kind of like the one ya’ll driving out there. That’s why I was looking so hard.”

  “What else do you remember?” asked Agent Faulkner. She was scribbling as fast as the woman could talk.

  “He had pulled behind her car and they were talking for a little while. I didn’t think nothing about it too much because it appeared that they knew each other. I watched for a little while longer and was about to step away from the window until I seen him grab her and choke her. He choked her all the way to the ground. I saw him reach in his pocket for something and that is all I remember.”

  “You say it looked as if they knew each other?” I asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “Do you think you have ever seen this guy before in this area?”

  No, but, by his shape—well I don’t know.” She stopped to think.

  I knew she had something and I needed to know what it was that she was thinking about.

  “Mrs. Harris, whatever it is you are thinking about, could be important to this case. It may even help us catch this guy before he kills again.”

  She then looked at both of us. “I believe I have seen him before,” she said.

  “Where? asked Faulkner, anxious for the answer.

  “Well, I ain’t a hundred percent sure, but from his build and appearance, he looked like a mental health worker I remember seeing at the mental hospital on East Point near College Park where I used to take my daughter when she needed to go. She passed a year ago. This was her place and I just moved in and took over everything.”

  “I am sorry to hear about your daughter, Mrs. Harris,” I said.

  I felt like I wanted to ask more but I decided not to.

  “Mrs. Harris, we do thank you for all your help. I believe this will help us get a lead on who this guy is and catch him,” said Faulkner.

  “I hope you do catch him. I mourn enough already for my daughter.”

  I saw the tears forming in her eyes.

  “You’ve been a big help, ma’am,” I said.

  We left the apartment and walked back to the car. We didn’t talk until we got inside.

  “What do you think, Detective?” she asked. The question surprised me.

  “The FBI asking me what I think?” I laughed.

  “Okay, okay, enough already. C’mon, what do you think our next move should be?”

  “Well, I think we should go to the mental hospital tonight.”

  “Why not in the morning?” she asked.

  “Because he works in the mornings.”

  She looked at me puzzled, so I helped her.

  “If you recall, he does all his killings at night.”

  “Oh, damn,” she said. Her dumbfounded facial expression confirmed what I already knew and that was I was damn good at this job. Still she didn’t let on and being an FBI agent, I knew she wouldn’t give me that satisfaction.

  “I really think we are on to something and we will find all of our answers at that mental hospital.” My phone chimed. It was Charlotte.

  “Hey baby,” I said, “I’m glad to see you made it home.”

  Charlotte and I talked a few minutes more. I told her I had to go and that we were about to go check something out. She still had her newspaper job and I knew she wanted details. But I still had to be careful. I told her she would get the full story for her column when we catch this guy. I also thanked agent Faulkner for having her guys tail them back home.

  “Okay, Agent Faulkner, let’s go catch this guy.”

  “Margaret.”

  I looked at her.

  “Call me Margaret,” she said. “I think we have got beyond titles now.

  “Okay,” I said. “Call me Jared.”

  “Okay, Jared,” she said.

  Chapter 6

  The Psychological Behavioral Center was just inside the I-285 beltway that goes around Atlanta.

  She parked her car in front and we got out and walked through the sliding doors. We were met by a black overweight security guard with a frown. He looked like we disturbed his food dream.

  “Can I help you,” he asked in a husky voice.

  I let Margaret do her thing.

  “I’m Agent Falkner with the FBI. I am working on a case and I need your help please.”

  The guy came to life, with a sense of pride that the FBI needed his help.

  “Yes ma’am, what do you need?” he asked straightening his shirt in his pants.

  “Do you remember a Lenora Wells working here?”

  He thought for a minute and then his eyes grew big to match his smile.

  “Yes ma’am, I knew her, well I didn’t know her—know her, but I used to see her come to work when she worked here. I believe she works at one of the hospitals downtown.”

  I stayed quiet as Margaret filled his head with all the possibilities of helping the FBI and that when he applied for the agency, that she would give him a recommendation for hire. I noticed that she did not leave her card.

  After she was done, I asked him a question.

  “By the way, is there or was there ever a tall black guy maybe bald that used to work here? Or perhaps he still does?”

  He thought again and rubbed his chin. “Yeah, you are t
alking about Jennings. He was a mental health worker. Strange type and always kept to himself.”

  “You remember what his first name was?” I tried to hide the excitement in my voice but it didn’t work. Margaret and I both were damn near leaning over the guy waiting for his answer.

  “Yeah, it’s Money—Money Jennings. I remember because some of the workers used to tease him about his first name, especially when he be looking broke all the time. In fact some of them called him Baron Samedi, you know like the tall guy from one of those James Bond movies from long ago.”

  Margaret and I looked at each other. We had him. We knew who he was.

  “Do you have an address on that guy, or know where we might be able to find him?” asked Margaret.

  “That is privileged information. I could get fired for that.”

  Both Margaret and I knew we couldn’t make him cross that line.

  “Wait a minute,” he said. He typed something into the computer and looked up at us. “I have to go to the restroom. Could you all watch the desk for me for a minute?” He winked his eye at Margaret.

  I moved my lips and formed the words, Thank You.

  Margaret wrote down the address and we were out of there before he got back to the desk.

  The address was near Kenilworth Avenue and Quarrels Street. The ghetto. The area looked run down. Some buildings were boarded up. Graffiti was on every wall. Even an advertisement for buying crack was painted on one of the walls. The name of the apartments was faded from the sign outside.

  We walked to the first apartment, downstairs on the right. I really wanted to knock the door down, but we really didn’t have any hard evidence that this was the guy. I rapped on the door. Nobody answered. I looked at my watch; it was close to 10P.M. I rapped on the door again but still no answer. We heard a noise above us.

  “If you are looking for Monday, he ain’t here,” said a teenaged boy.

  “Do you know where he might be?” I asked.

  “Are you all cops?” he asked.

  “No, we are friends of his from the hospital.”

  I had to respond fast. We didn’t want to leave and let this guy know the cops were on to him.

  “Oh, ya’ll are from that crazy hospital huh,” he asked.