Craig remembered one night when she and Eric were over for supper. Vikki was a tiny bit tipsy and cornered Craig in the kitchen. She jokingly made a pass at him. He was flattered by the compliment, and even though it had all been in fun, she had managed to intrigue him.
Wait a minute! Vikki Millard! Craig stopped beside the receptionist’s desk. I only know one person contemptible enough to take those pictures and then mail them to Helen. “Eric Millard,” Craig said. The receptionist stared at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Eric Millard—that’s who!”
* * *
Garth was looking out the coffee shop window as he waited for Craig. Strange, how life can change in an instant, he thought. One minute, you’re a down-and-out bum and the next; you’re on top of the world. A man getting out of his car in front of the drug store across the street interrupted Garth’s thoughts. “It’s Lorne Davis!” In one motion, Garth grabbed his camera and slid out of the booth. “Gotta get closer and see what the creep is up to.”
Craig arrived and parked beside Garth’s car. Not hard to tell it’s Garth’s, he thought. Tan over rust.
The coffee shop was empty except for a couple sitting near the back. Garth was nowhere to be found. Craig figured he must be late or in the washroom. He seated himself at a table by the front window. He spotted Garth walking across the parking lot with his camera in hand. Garth smiled at him and pumped his fist in the air like he had just sunk a twenty-foot birdie putt. Craig could hardly wait to find out what he was up to.
Garth sat down across from Craig. “Hey! I just got a great shot of Lorne Davis with some broad in his car.”
“Hi, Garth. What’s new?”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? I got a great—”
“I was kidding, Garth. Of course, I heard what you said. Who is she?”
“No idea, but she’s a chic and a half. Gotta get these developed right away.” Garth went on to happily explain he and Loretta had patched things up. He had moved back home. He also told Craig what Loretta said about Lorne Davis.
“You’re kidding,” Craig said. “Are you sure she isn’t exaggerating?”
“Loretta swears it’s true. And she oughta know because she dated the weasel. Says he’s hung like a horse.” Craig almost mentioned the fact Loretta had only Garth and the neighbor for comparison but thought it might hurt Garth’s feelings. The size of their own manhood is a touchy subject for most men. It is not something to ridicule, especially with a friend.
“Well—we both know what that’s like, huh, Garth?” Craig winked and Garth just rolled his eyes. “But I hope you realize, the purpose of our mission against Lorne Davis has changed.”
“How?”
“Our mission is now more of a service to men everywhere. We must get that well-hung weasel out of circulation.” Craig and Garth both laughed at that. They agreed that with Loretta’s statement and all the pictures, Lorne Davis was as good as done at the SOE.
“None too soon,” Craig said.
Garth asked what he meant. Craig told him about Jim Roberts’ suicide, the sale of Victoria Crossing and his subsequent job loss.
“Kinda leaves you out in the cold, huh? What are you gonna do?”
Craig stirred his coffee. “My lawyer suggested I should start a small business. I’ve decided he’s right. Owning my own business is the best solution. I’ve got some start-up money, so I’m going into office supplies.”
“When’s this gonna happen?”
“I’ve set up some appointments for later this week to check out locations, suppliers and get a loan from my bank. If it all comes together, I’ll be in business before you know it.”
“What about the next phase of Operation Well-Hung Weasel?” Garth said with a wide grin.
“Let’s launch it next Monday morning.” Craig could hardly wait.
* * *
Garth picked Craig up at eleven o’clock on Monday morning. As usual, they stopped for take-out donuts and coffee. “This always make me feel like a real cop,” Craig said. The day started with a chuckle.
They staked out the SOE building. It wasn’t long before Lorne Davis emerged and walked across the street to his car. They followed him to a restaurant and found a secluded spot in the parking lot. They watched him walk to the front door. “Looks like Lornie’s going for lunch.” Craig put down his binoculars. “Wonder who the lucky girl is?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Garth said. “Ya think it’s just lunch?” They both had a good laugh. The next instant, Lorne was standing at Garth’s open car window. He yelled right into Garth’s ear. Garth flinched and let out a high-pitched screech when he realized it was Davis. He slammed the car into gear, the transmission clunked and the car leapt forward. The tires smoked all the way out of the parking lot onto the street. Garth slammed on the brakes to avoid the opposite curb.
“What are you doing?” Craig said. “Floor it! Let’s get outa here!” A few blocks later, Craig assured Garth they weren’t being followed and told him to slow down. Garth looked frazzled. “You okay, Garth?”
“He saw my face.” Garth was trying to catch his breath. “He recognized me. He knew my name.”
“So? He can’t do anything about it. We have lots of incriminating evidence on him. He won’t do anything. Davis is a coward. He only picks on defenseless people.”
“Yeah.” Garth knew Craig was right. “We’ve got him on the run, not the other way ‘round. Let’s see where he goes tonight.”
“Okay,” Craig said. “But how about I pick you up early? I think it would be a great idea to do happy hour at the good ol’ neighborhood watering hole we fondly call Malarkey’s. I’ve got a loose end I have to tie up for an old friend. I mean, if you’re not too busy that is.”
“Well,” Garth said, “just by a strange coincidence, this whole business today has made me thirsty.”
The boys were on another mission.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Points of View
Lorne Davis was feeling pleased with himself as he prepared to leave for the day. He had successfully prosecuted two deadbeats. One was sent to jail, and the other was forced to write a check, in court right in front of the judge. Not a bad day’s work for a Monday. He closed his briefcase. Also, I told Roy Wood about those two losers who followed me to the restaurant today. And to top it all off, I smoothed things over with the charming and talented Miss Millard.
Vikki had called Lorne that morning and asked to meet for lunch. She sounded strange on the phone. He figured something was up. He wasn’t worried. He knew how to handle women like her. As he drove away from Fortress he thought, they’re easy—in more ways than one.
Lorne was about five blocks from the restaurant where he was meeting Vikki. As he crossed 7th Street, a vehicle behind him caught his attention. He was sure he recognized it. I‘m pretty sure I’ve seen that car following me before—more than once. And parked across the street from my apartment building. Okay—let’s see if it stays with me. Lorne made a quick right turn at the next intersection. The vehicle followed him. He continued to the restaurant, keeping an eye on the rear view mirror. He didn’t recognize either one of them. I don’t think they’re cops. Better be careful, Lorne.
Lorne pulled into the restaurant parking lot, curious to see if they would follow him or pass on by. The vehicle drove in and parked at the other end of the lot. He decided to make the plate and identify them. From where they’re parked, they can’t see the front door of the restaurant, Lorne thought. I can sneak back behind that hedge and get closer.
Lorne headed for the front door, but he doubled back once he was out of sight and hidden by the hedge. He stayed low as he moved closer to their car. The two men inside were laughing. Lorne stood up right beside the driver’s open window and yelled at the top of his lungs. “Why the hell are you following me?” He recognized the drive
r. It was Loretta’s ex, that Hodgson guy he had prosecuted. “Hodgson!” Lorne reached into the car and tried to grab him.
The driver screamed, and the car lurched forward violently. Tires squealing and smoking, the car sped out of the parking lot onto the street. It screeched to a stop across the street and then quickly bolted away.
Lorne wrote down the license number. “Gotcha, Mr. Hodgson and friend. Have a nice evening, while you can. The cops will be paying you a visit very soon.”
Lorne had calmed down and was at his regular table, nursing a scotch when Vikki walked in. Boy, she looks good. I have to get into her pants againsoon. Careful how you handle this, Lorne. Don’t blow it.
Lorne stood, took her hand and seated her. Vikki wasted no time telling him she had followed him to the motel. She saw him in bed with Chrissie Andrews. He sat and listened, carefully formulating a persuasive defense. Vikki had no idea Lorne had faced this same predicament before. He was a practiced and convincing liar.
Lorne claimed Chrissie had tricked him. He blamed himself for being a fool and falling for her charms. He swore he had never done anything like that before. He professed to be riddled with guilt and ashamed of his behavior. He prayed Vikki would forgive him, promising it would never happen again.
“Chrissie threw herself at me. What was I supposed to do? I mean I’m only human. I wasn’t thinking. Please forgive me, Vik. I’m so—so sorry.”
At first, Vikki didn’t believe him. She stared at him accusingly. She was leery. She had already divorced one man for cheating on her. She wanted to slap Lorne’s face, cause a scene and leave. But then, she changed her mind. He had won her over. She reluctantly accepted his apology and the promise he would never stray again. She still had feelings for him. He wasn’t perfect, but he was a treat after Eric. Lorne made her feel attractive and desirable. She agreed to see him that evening.
As they ate lunch, Lorne continued to woo her. He used every trick to appease her; told her she was beautiful, she made him happier than any other woman and he was developing very real feelings for her. Then, he mentioned he was being followed.
“Followed?” Vikki looked worried. “By whom? I mean do you have any idea who it is?”
“Yeah, I know exactly who it is. Well, one of them anyway. The other guy didn’t look familiar. I’ve called the police. They’re looking into it.”
“Who was the guy you recognized?” Vikki was understandably upset. Her man was threatened, and she was frightened he might come to harm.
“A deadbeat named Hodgson.” Lorne reassured her and told her everything was under control. He would be fine. “Don’t you worry. The cops’ll handle this. I’ve got lotsa friends on the police force.”
Vikki checked her watch. “Oh my goodness, I have to go.” She picked up her shoulder bag. “Sorry, I’ve got a one o’clock.”
Lorne stood and squeezed her hand. “You take care, doll. I’ll see you tonight.” Vikki blew him a kiss and left quickly.
Lorne winked at himself in the rearview mirror as he started his car. “You’re smooth, Davis. Soooooo smooth.” Lorne drove back to his office with a dirty little smirk on his face. It had been easy to pacify Vikki. He had a way with women and he knew it.
* * *
Detective Roy Wood overheard the radio call about a disturbance at Malarkey’s Bar. The patrol car responding was still about twenty minutes away, stuck in rush hour traffic. “What’d ya think partner?” Roy looked at Dave Astor. “Wanna do some ol’ fashioned harness work?”
Dave laughed. “Sure. Maybe we can stop ‘em from killing each other.”
Their unmarked Dodge pulled into Malarkey’s parking lot, red fireball light revolving on the dash and siren wailing. They didn’t need the lights and siren. They weren’t speeding. Roy had learned this valuable lesson early in his career from an old cop.
* * *
“Slow down, rook. Never rush to a fight,” the old sergeant told a young rookie Roy Wood. “Let ‘em get tired first. We don’t want ‘em fresh when we arrive.”
“Why the siren, Sarge?” Roy had asked. “Won’t they know we’re coming?”
“Absolutely. Hopefully, they’ll head for the hills. We can round ‘em up later. You know, tomorrow in the daylight, when they’re sober.”
Old cops never rush to a bar fight. That’s how old cops—get to be old cops.
* * *
Roy and Dave entered Malarkey’s and saw two guys at the bar talking to Danny, the bartender.
“Hey, Danny,” Roy said. “What’s up?”
“It’s all over, Roy. The guy you want is in the can.” The men’s room door opened, and a man emerged sporting a fat lip and a shiner.
“What does the other guy look like, pal?” Roy said sarcastically. “Got some ID?” Eric handed the detective his driver’s license. “Eric Millard.” Roy looked at the license and compared the photo to the face. “So what happened here, Mr. Millard?”
“Nothing happened here, sir.” Eric checked the wet paper towel he had been holding against his lip. “Nothing at all.”
Roy glanced at Danny. Danny winked and put his hand over his mouth to hide his smile.
“How’d you get the shiner and the fat lip?” Roy was having fun. “Shaving?”
“No,” Eric said. “I accidentally walked into a door in the john.”
It was clear; no assault charges would be filed. Whatever happened was settled and wouldn’t require any further action from the police. Danny advised no damage was done. Dave had taken down everyone’s name, so this investigation would be closed.
“Who were those two guys at the bar?” Roy asked Dave, as they pulled out of the parking lot. He was thinking about Lorne Davis’ phone call, earlier that day. They matched the description he provided. “Was one of them named Hodgson?”
“No,” Dave said. “ID’d them as a Greg Hodges, and the other one was a Craig Andrews. Both locals.”
“They looked awfully nervous. Let’s run them when we get back to the squad room.” Roy was writing in his notebook. “And Millard too. I’ve gotta feeling there’s more going on here than meets the eye. Something ain’t right.”
Dave said he’d check them out. He trusted and respected Roy. They had worked together for many years, and his partner never failed to amaze him. Roy was the best detective on the force because he had great instincts. If Roy suspected something was going on, something was definitely going on.
* * *
Loretta was in the living room, curled up with a book. She heard Garth drive into the garage and went to meet him as he came in the kitchen door.
“Hi, honey.” Garth gave her a thumbs-up. “We got him! Tonight, we got Davisbig time.”
“I’m so glad. I knew you guys would.” Loretta took his jacket and hung it on the coat rack beside the door. “I’ll get you a beer, and you can tell me all about it.”
Garth was clearly excited as he explained to Loretta what had happened during tonight’s surveillance. “Craig and I staked out Lorne’s apartment, and then we followed him across town to a fancy restaurant. He met a woman Craig said was Vikki Millard. We have pictures of them going in for dinner and later, walking down the street to a hotel.” Garth purposely excluded the lunchtime incident with Davis and the fight at Malarkey’s. He didn’t want to upset Loretta. “If this Vikki chick is a client of the SOE, that’s even more proof Davis is a bomber.”
“What’s a bomber?”
“Apparently, it’s a lawyer who sleeps with clients. Craig told me his lawyer says they’re not supposed to do that. It’s a big time no-no in the legal profession.”
“Well, someone should tell Lorne that,” Loretta said. “He’s already a bomber. He was with me and probably with that other woman. You know, the dark-haired beauty in his car? Remember—the one you took pictures of last week when you met Craig
for coffee?”
“Oh, geez—I forgot all about those pictures. We’ve already got so much evidence.”
“We have him cold,” Loretta said. “I think someone should warn this Vikki about him—don’t you?”
“Let me talk to Craig about it. He’s known her for quite a while. Meanwhile, I’ll get that film developed. We gotta find out who that woman is. The sooner the better.”
Garth didn’t know the dark-haired woman in Lorne’s car was Chrissie.
* * *
Craig drove home that night thinking about Davis’ escapades with Vikki. He had developed a healthy disgust for the man, but he still marveled at Davis’ talent with the ladies. He couldn’t believe someone like Vikki was out with Davis tonight. She’s way too classy to be with him.
Thinking about Vikki reminded Craig of his confrontation with her ex, earlier that evening at Malarkey’s. Eric was seated at the far end of the bar. Craig simply walked up and said: “Good evening, Mr. Millard. This is for Jim Roberts.”
He delivered a punch that sent Eric careening off the stool and landing unconscious on the floor. Craig was glad Garth backed him up tonight. He stopped Craig from inflicting any more punishment on Eric. “That’s enough, buddy.” Garth moved in-between Craig and Millard. “He’s out cold. That’s enough.”
Several of Millard’s friends surrounded Craig and began to yell. The whole thing could have easily escalated into a donnybrook. Fortunately, Garth was able to diffuse the situation by telling them about Jim Roberts, the photos and Craig’s ex-wife.
The bartender Danny suddenly put two and two together. He had helped Millard identify Jim Roberts in those photographs and told him about Roberts’ wife Helen. He was as much to blame for this as Millard. Danny was glad the police were on their way.
Eric’s buddies helped him to his feet. He told Craig he didn’t know Roberts was a friend. He apologized and humbly shook Craig’s hand before heading to the men’s room to clean up. Everything had settled down by the time the cops walked in.