Blue Justice Page 8

  I thought about what the young man had just said and figured I would try and make contact with JP. The problem was, if there was a rumor flying around, then why JP wasn’t brought in for questioning? For that matter, why isn’t he a target?

  I turned out the lights and looked out my window. I couldn’t see anything. It had just started to rain and the windows were fogged. I took the box with the remnants of pizza slices down the elevator and outside. I waited near the door to see if I could catch an old codger pushing his grocery cart.

  I was in luck. There was someone pushing a grocery cart down the sidewalk in front of the park and he was looking in the garbage cans as he passed them. I got excited. I stepped out into the rain. A car had turned its headlights on bright. I quickly got across.

  “J.P.!” I called out. The homeless man turned. All of a sudden, the car with the bright lights raised its engine and spun its tires and was headed toward J.P. I dropped the pizza and ran toward the old man and pushed him into the park. The car came up on the sidewalk and then turned quickly back onto the road.

  I pulled out my .45 and tried to read the license plate, but there wasn’t one. The car was a white Chevy impala box-style from the late 80’s. It was plain and had no hubcaps. I only saw a shadowy figure of what I assumed was a man. I tried running to catch it, but the car sped down the road and disappeared.

  I looked back at J.P., who was having a difficult time getting himself off the ground.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, panting.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” said the gravel voice. “Somebody needs to call the police on that guy.”

  “I am a cop, J.P.”

  He looked at me and I showed him my badge. “C’mon, J.P., let’s get you out of this rain for a few. I need to ask you some questions.”

  We walked inside to the corridor of the hotel doors. J.P.’s body odor was all over my clothes, but that didn’t matter right now. Somebody had just tried to kill him because he knew something, or at least they thought he did, and I wanted to find out as much as I could from him.

  I gave J.P. a few dollars for his information. I could see why maybe officers didn’t take him seriously or didn’t think about talking to him. But he was scaring somebody.

  “White Knight be killing the officers,” he said. It didn’t make any sense to me.

  “Do you think you can recognize him when you see him?”

  “Oh yeah, these old eyes are good in my head.”

  “Listen J.P., I think you might need some protection. Would you mind if I called a friend that could get you some protection?”

  “You are talking ‘bout police protection—then, no,” he said.

  I was about to ask why until he told me. His words put ice water in my gut.

  “I have seen that White Knight before roughing up the local hustlers around town like Joppy and Shank but I never seen his face. That is all I know. But I also believe he is a cop, at least he acts like one.”

  He refused my assistance and I feared for his safety but there was nothing I could do to persuade him. He was up now, and on his way out of my sight. Somewhere out there was possibly a cop killing cops but I wasn’t sure about that either. I decided to hold all that information from everybody even Detective Coffy until I understood it myself.

  J.P. turned a corner and disappeared into the rainy night with his grocery cart.

  I went back up the elevator. I had to take a shower anyway, but after my close encounter with JP it was absolutely necessary.

  It was good to wash that funk off me. The hot shower gave me time to think about everything—should I share my information with other cops, especially Detective Coffy. The truth is I didn’t know any of them. I hadn’t been in New Orleans two hours and already had a break in the case.

  I got to thinking that maybe I couldn’t trust any of them. I decided I would just go to the muster and play dumb and see how much they knew.

  I dried myself off and went and sat on the bed. I glanced down at my phone. I had two text message alerts from both Chief Davis and Charlotte. Both were urgent so I checked Charlottes first. It said to call home ASAP. The chief’s message said the exact same thing. I was hoping everything was okay. My mind was racing with questions. I frantically scrolled through the numbers to find Charlotte’s.

  She picked up on the first ring.

  “Charlotte!” I yelled into the phone. “Is everything alright?”

  “I’m fine, Baby,” she said. “But there is something you should know. Chief Davis is here and he needs to talk with you.”

  My mind started racing again, but not as bad.

  “Jared?” he said.

  “Yeah chief, what’s up?”

  “Burncutt!”

  The name sent a rage of fury in me so strong my hand shook holding the phone.

  “What about him?” I asked trying to remain calm. I knew it had to be something serious for him to be calling me. I was hoping he would say, the idiot was killed in prison, but I doubt that would be what this was for.

  “He escaped out of prison,” said the Chief.

  I gathered my thoughts. “How?” I asked.

  “During the night, they had him on a clean-up detail in the cafeteria. One of the guards let his guard down and Burncutt overpowered him and switched clothes. Afterwards he hid the guard’s body in the cooler and proceeded out the back door of the kitchen where some cars were parked. He must have taken the guard’s keys and tried the cars until he was successful in stealing one. He stole a black Ford Crown Victoria.”

  “How long ago was this?” I asked.

  “He has been out now maybe a couple of hours. We have a statewide manhunt for him, don’t worry. Margaret and I are staying over here with Charlotte and her parents. Plus I have a couple of units outside watching the house.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief again. “Thanks, Chief.”

  “No problem. So, how is New Orleans so far?”

  “It’s okay; my mind is not focused on it right now with what you just told me. But there is a muster in the morning in which I will be briefed about everything and maybe learn what they know.” Even though I trusted Chief Davis, considering what we have been through on my case with the Reaper; still I didn’t want him to accidently pass on to his friend the New Orleans Police Commissioner that I had anything. I needed to keep everything to myself until I knew more about what I was getting into.

  “Jared, I know you will do fine. They asked me for my best man and that is you. We got everything under control here. Just be safe and catch whoever it is that has it out for the men in blue.”

  “Thanks, Chief. Put Charlotte back on please.”

  The phone was silent for a few seconds and then I heard Charlotte’s sweet sensual voice.

  “Baby, I…” I must have sounded scared or something. She cut in.

  “We are okay, Honey. Concentrate on the case and be safe, okay?”

  Part of me wanted to say the hell with New Orleans and take my ass back home. I probably would have if Charlotte didn’t support me the way she does.

  “Okay, I’ll try,” I said. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” she replied and hung up.

  Chapter 5

  I tried to get some sleep but it was difficult. The thought of that bastard Burncutt on the loose made me boil that I wasn’t there by Charlotte. And also the fact that somebody tried to kill a possible witness last night in my presence because he thinks the person might know something or know them. I needed some coffee.

  I could have made it in my room but I felt the walls closing in and so I got dressed and took the elevator to the front lobby. It was 6:00. Early risers were still eating in the restaurant. The coffee smelled great. I went to the courtesy bar and made me a cup. It was very black, bitter stuff, but delicious in its way. Enough cream and sugar and I could see why café au lait in New Orleans was the way to start the day.

  I looked around the lobby. The sun was starting to break through the dim morning sky. T
he front desk clerks were doing a shift change and the housekeepers were coming in to work as well. The French Quarter was coming to life before my very eyes.

  I walked outside with my cup in my hand. The aroma of food filled the air. The air in New Orleans is always fragrant with coffee and spices. I figured I would go back in and sit down to a quick breakfast off the hot bar before going Detective Coffy arrived.

  I walked inside the restaurant. A waitress escorted me to a table. The breakfast bar was very attractive—with French bread, doughnuts, and fruit. I was going to eat light though because that pizza was very filling last night. I sat down and ordered a glass of orange juice and some water. The waitress then directed me to the plates at the hot bar and then walked off to get my beverages.

  The bacon looked crisp, the sausages smelled spicy, and the eggs were fluffy. The biscuits looked like they could float and the grits were drowning in melted butter. I was going to hate myself later but I only had the stomach for a couple of pieces of bacon and a small portion of eggs.

  I walked back to my table and sat down to eat. The waitress had returned with my water and juice. Just as I was about to dig in, I looked up and noticed that Detective Coffy had walked in to get her a table. I watched her for a minute to see if she had noticed me. She didn’t. Perhaps she was hungry too and wanted to get something before the meeting. I waved at her and got her attention. She smiled and walked my way.

  “Well, good morning, Detective Jackson.”

  “Good Morning to you also,” I said biting a piece of bacon.

  She told the waitress to bring her a glass of water. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  She walked over to the cold bar and picked up a grapefruit and came back to the table.”

  “That doesn’t look like a good breakfast,” I said breaking the ice.

  “Well, I’m trying to watch my diet.” I nodded. I usually am very careful with loaded comments like that from a woman. I learned long ago to just be silent and change the subject.

  “New Orleans is not bad,” I said placing a fork full of eggs in my mouth.

  “No it’s not. It’s a lot of history here—rich history. Perhaps after the meeting I could show you around some. The French Quarter is a high tourist area.”

  “I would like that,” I said, watching her peel the grapefruit.

  “So how did you sleep?” she asked.

  “Well, everything was new to me so I didn’t sleep much. I just watched TV until at some point it started watching me.”

  She looked at her watch. “Oh, shoot! It’s 6:45, we better get going.”

  I wiped my mouth with a napkin. I noticed that she only ate a couple of sections of the grapefruit. I signaled the waitress and told her to charge it to my room and we left her a tip and walked out. Her car was parked along the curb in front of a wall covered with what I believed to be gang graffiti. The traffic was light and we reached the station in 15 minutes. During that the drive she pointed out a few historic landmarks and tourist attractions. I liked the way she told the back story to everything. She had a talent for placing you in the history of her unique city.

  It clouded up quickly, and looked like a real downpour was about to begin when we reached the rear entrance of the precinct. We had just beaten the rain.

  The muster room was full of uniformed and plain clothes officers. The odor of the old building lingered in the air even though a collision of different perfumes, colognes, and soaps tried to mask it.

  I felt all eyes were on me. Coffy introduced me to a couple of officers. One being a tall chiseled jawed Detective named Bernard Santiago and the other a silver- hair uniformed Sergeant who stood with a military bearing named Paul Drexler who looked like he had been on the force for some years.

  The commissioner was a balding man with piercing blue eyes. What little hair he had was grey. He stood next to a medium size black woman with a stylish wavy hair cut, wearing a business suit. I assumed she was the chief of police.

  The black woman walked to the front of the room and centered herself on the audience of officers.

  “Good morning, everyone…”

  She went through the whole spiel about how much she appreciated the hard work the department was putting forth in finding the murderers of the two officers and then she introduced the commissioner to speak next.

  He didn’t speak very long either. He touched on some of the things chief spoke about and then finally looked in the back and saw me.

  “Ladies and gentlemen and fellow police officers, I want to introduce an Alabama officer who was sent as an advisor to help us along with solving this case. Most of you have probably heard or read about the recent Reaper murders in Alabama. Detective Jared Jackson there”—he pointed at me— “was very instrumental in capturing the killer and solving the case.”

  The commissioner looked at all the puzzled faces in the room and anticipated their question.

  “I requested his help here. I think that it is good to have a set of outside eyes that might detect something we may have missed. Again--this is nothing against any of you. I admire all of you, but we are a little too close to the recent murders and victims here. This way, most of us won’t be caught up so much in emotion as we investigate. Detective Jackson will be here with us until Friday and will be working close with uhm…” He looked at the chief.

  “Detective Coffy,” said the chief.

  “Thank you, and so I want all of us to be cooperative in this investigation,” the commissioner went on. “The goal here is to find and capture this guy before he kills again. Detective Jackson, this is Estelle Adelaide, chief of police here. You two will report directly to her and me on any and every issue and also whether there is progress being made in the case.”

  “Yes sir,” said Coffy. I nodded.

  He ended his briefing with a moment of silence for the fallen officers and a small vigil prayer.

  “Be safe out there everybody; I don’t want to attend any more officer funerals for a while.” He said somberly and walked out the door wiping the tears from his eyes.

  Chapter 6

  “So where do we start?” I asked Coffy. I wanted to see what else she could tell me about the case.

  “Well for starters, I could take you back over to both scenes and look over the areas.” She responded.

  “I like that, and since you only ate two slices of grapefruit, lunch will be on me. Besides, I can’t wait to try some real Louisiana gumbo.”

  “Well, that’s a deal! I even know the best place to eat.”

  The first murder scene was out in the edge of town near a place called Metairie. It was obvious to me that it might have been a traffic stop gone badly for Officer Clements.

  We talked during the drive to the second murder scene, which was in an empty lot a few blocks from the first scene. There wasn’t much to see. All the evidence was gone by now, washed away by rain or carried away by humans. Maybe even Officer Jones tried to leave a clue but now it was gone too. Still I looked around. The place was sort of secluded. A good place to meet somebody in secret I suppose.

  Coffy stood back as I walked around getting a feel for the area. I turned to her.

  “A perfect secluded place for a murder don’t you think,” I said.

  “Perhaps. Is that what you have come up with, because I saw that the first day.”

  She was smiling but she was being sarcastic. I thought about it for a second, but then smiled too. “Okay, let’s go check out the other site,” I said.

  I didn’t talk much on the drive to the next scene. She had picked up on my change in demeanor and tried to get me to talking to see if she had gone too far with her sarcasm. I had her where I wanted her. Yes, she pissed me off, but now I had the advantage. She was trying everything she could to get back in friendly mode with me, but I kept her at bay. This helped me keep the information I had gathered last night to myself.

  I got out of the car and closed the door gently to show that I was not upset. I walked around th
e area of Elysian Fields Avenue where the third officer, Officer Davies, was discovered. It was the same thing. No physical evidence.

  “About what time was this officer discovered?” I asked.

  “A little after 10:00pm I believe.”

  “Okay thanks,” I replied. I walked back to the car with a bounce in my step. Both Officers Davies and Jones were meeting somebody in secret and I had other information also that she didn’t. Now I needed to get back to the hotel and make a phone call. But I did promise her lunch so I didn’t want to be rude.

  “Ok, where do you want to go for lunch?”

  She looked puzzled as if she knew I knew something that I wasn’t sharing. She probably was afraid to ask because she had spoiled those chances with her sarcasm back at the other scene.

  “Well, we can go to my mom’s house. She is making gumbo today and I figured you would probably want the real thing instead of the commercial gumbo you find in restaurants.”

  “Sounds good, let’s go,” I said. I kept my high going and I knew it was killing her. She wanted so bad to know why I was elated. I didn’t say a word; instead I hummed to the tunes on the radio. However, I have to admit, I wasn’t ready for the curve ball she threw at me about eating at her mom’s house—but, oh well, I was down for it.

  Coffy’s mom had a white country setting home with black shutters and wood railing going around the large porch. Inside it looked like an art museum. There were paintings, small statuettes, and flowers placed throughout the house that blended softly with the furniture, and giving it a warm and cozy atmosphere.

  “You have a wonderful home, Mrs. Coffy, and that gumbo was off the chain—that is I mean, great.”

  “I know what you mean,” she replied. “Just because I’m older doesn’t mean I don’t understand some slang.” She smiled showing her white dentures with one solid gold tooth and one open-face crown tooth. I see where Coffy got her beauty from. Her mother did not look 65 at all. If I had to guess without ever meeting her, I would have to say she looked to be in her early 50’s.