Book Five
Vengeance In Vallejo
Vengeance In Vallejo
Posted 6/1/2010
CHAPTER ONE
Jeannie Nelson’s, concentration was so focused on the
documents in front of her that the nine tones of the clock didn’t
register with her any more than the figure who silently opened the
door to her law office. The tattooed gang member, with
the diagonal scar just below his left eye, reached the desk before
the movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye. Startled,
the svelte beauty bolted upright sending the leather covered chair
careening against the window sill behind her.
“God, Ramon, you scared me.”
She had her hands over each other pressed to her chest.
“What in the world are you doing here?”
“Don’t fight me law lady.” He closed
the distance between them. “I could tell how you
looked at me, when you worked my case you wanted me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She pushed his hand away as he reached for her.
He grabbed her by both arms and pulled her close when
she attempted to back away. Greasy black hair hung
down in a curl on his forehead. His lip curled up in
more of a sneer than a grin.
“Ramon, stop it! Turn me loose.”
She placed her slender hands against his chest and her eyes
pleaded with him. “Trust me; you don’t want to do
this.” Jeannie struggled in vain. Even
though she worked out and was in top physical shape, his strength
overcame her. The young Hispanic’s alcohol and
cigarette breath was disgusting; she turned her face away from him.
“Ramon, that’s enough. I defended you,
it was my job. That’s all there was to it.”
“You gonna enjoy a real man now lady.”
He pushed her back against the mahogany desk. Her trim
body was pinned by his and his hand cupped her ample breast over her
white silk blouse.
“Man you’re built.” Ramon was breathing
hard now.
The fight or flight syndrome gave the attorney extra
strength, but still it was not enough to free her from the
athletically built twenty-year old gang member.
“Them pretty smellin’, suit wearin’ wimps - uh - you
work with,” struggling harder the five-foot eight-inch male
continued, “that have been getting in - un huh - your pants will
make you appreciate me more. Uh.” He
thrashed about to maintain control of the uncooperative sylph-like
female.
She fell back onto the slate inlaid top of the desk
with him over her. The sparkle was gone from her now
wide dark brown eyes. His left tattooed arm was
trapped beneath her five-foot seven-inch frame while his right hand
began to raise her blue silk skirt. Kisses and bites
on the neck made her cringe and look around desperately for
something to put a stop to the assault.
“JAIL, RAMON, I will see to it you go - OUCH - to
jail if it’s the last thing I do.” The biting
intensified her rage. “Hunh - I will see - OH DAMN IT,
you’re hurting me. I will put you in jail.”
The silk skirt was held up to her waist by his body pressed
to hers. She felt him tearing at her white silk
panties. A note spindle caught her eye; it resembled
an ice pick on a molded red base.
“You shouldn’t - un huh - have said that woman.
You screwed up good. Now, I - come on bitch
hold still - can’t let you testify. Making love to me
is the best and last thing you’ll ever do.” The
elastic waistband of the panties was cutting into her pale, soft,
white flesh as he pulled frantically on it. “Hang on
baby we’re just about there.”
Panic had set in. She knew it to be a
life and death situation. Jeannie could smell the body
odor emanating from the young Latino’s active sweat glands.
She realized that she had to calm herself, taking a
deep breath she reached the spindle and, with one swift motion,
shoved it into his ear cavity. The lack of resistance
as it plunged past the tympanic membrane and inner ear and through
the soft tissue of the cerebral cortex surprised her.
She immediately rotated the base as if winding string around a ball.
The scream was deafening and painful to her ears.
His rough scarred hand grabbed her wrist tightly at first.
Then she felt the grip loosen and the hand slowly fall away
as his limp body slid to the floor.
She stood, straightened and forced herself to look
down, then leaned back against the desk with her brown hair
cascading down her face. The look of the dead man at
her feet was like a grotesque nightmare. Her gaze
shifted slowly to the window and out into the chilly Halloween night
as she began to sob.
Jeannie reached blindly behind her, searching for the
phone. Patting the desk, her fingers slid over the
device. The receiver tumbled from the cradle and her
hand. Her hand wouldn’t stop shaking.
She turned around and concentrated on lifting the receiver.
The other quivering hand pushed the outside line button and
dialed 911.
“Seattle Police Department, Sergeant Johansson.”
“This is Jeannie Nelson, office 601 in the Barnett
Building. There is a dead man in my office.”
“Uh, Miss, are you sure he is dead?”
“I ought to be. I just killed him.”
*
*
*
The sound of the shot was deafening. The
body of his fiancé falling back into his arms knocking him to the
ground was vivid. Those last words of hers, “Till
death do us pa…,” rang loud in his ears. John Bodie
awoke and sat up with a gasp and yelled out “No!”
The police criminal investigator rubbed his face and
noticed the perspiration on his brow. His pulse was
still racing and he felt his heart pounding in his chest.
How long would these images continue? It had
been more than a month since the Arkansas tragedy.
He slid his legs out from under the warm covers and
felt his feet touch the cold floor. The Vallejo Police
Department’s only detective sat for a few seconds wondering how much
longer this grieving process would continue. John
never wanted to forget Christy; he wanted his memories of her to
last forever but wanted the hurt to go away.
He didn’t like this new John but couldn’t shake it.
This sadness, depression, increased irritability and
crankiness with people was not him. He experienced
poor concentration, loss of energy and appetite and his sleep
pattern had become erratic.
He stood, stretched and wondered what to do today.
His memory left something to be desired as well.
The shower helped him shake the cobwebs of sleep.
It dawned on him that there was no light coming through the
window as he stepped out of the shower. He looked at
the clock on the night stand and saw the time - four o’clock in the
morning.
“What the hell am I going to do at four in the
morning?” he yelled at the clock. “You stupid clock,
you’re supposed to tell me it is seven o’ clock.”
This is absurd; I’m standing here naked as a jaybird hollering at my
clock. I might as well go ahead, shave and get
dressed. I’ll just sit in the recliner and go back to
sleep for awhile, I hope.
John had been appointed as an officer of the Vallejo
Police Department and was a Criminal Investigator on an as needed
basis. Police Chief Frederick Raul Solis-Ortega did
this to control John on investigations that occurred in the city.
John had proved himself invaluable in the past both as a
polygraph examiner and an investigator.
He awoke three hours later, sadder than before.
The image of Christy’s face as she closed her eyes for the
last time had awakened him. Seeing daylight, made him
get up and go to the kitchen. After standing there for
a few minutes and staring at the various appliances, he decided that
he was not in the mood to even make tea water. It was
time to venture out of the house and make an appearance in the café.
A half hour later, a solemn individual entered the
east entrance to the Towne Café and looked for a vacant booth.
John spotted one over on the north wall about halfway to the
rear of the room. Silently, he returned nods to those
who greeted him as he made his way between the red and white
checkered table tops. He seated himself quietly with
his head slightly cocked to one side and stared across the booth’s
wooden table, also covered with a red and white checkered plastic
table cloth. Looking at the Naugahyde covered bench on
the other side as though someone was sitting there.
The waitress arrived a minute later with the hot tea,
he always ordered, and a menu. He didn’t acknowledge
her at first, and then his head turned slowly upward toward her.
An attempted smile met with weak results. Dede,
the southern blue-eyed blonde haired waitress, looked down at him
and shook her head.
“John Bodie, your behavior is bordering on morbid.
What in the world is wrong with you? Whatever
it is, you need to put on your big boy pants and deal with it!
“You have everything going for you. You
are highly respected by the people in Vallejo. You’re
a hero to them. I mean, like, wow, you have single
handedly stopped a bank robbery with a shootout. You
rescued a little girl from a child molesting kidnapper.
Your polygraph proved the Doc’s wife didn’t commit murder and
was instrumental in catching the man that did. The
Mexican facility that produced identification for illegal aliens was
put out of business and another murderer was caught in the process.
All thanks to you.” She stopped and stared at
him in anticipation of an answer. None came.
She leaned her petite frame against the chrome hat
rack attached to the end of the booth and continued, “What’s even
more important, you used to bring a lot of happiness into this
woman’s life. John, you need help. We
can’t stand to see you like this. Will you see Doc
Armond for me? He wants to talk to you.”
“Dede, I’m just fine. I just need a
little time to myself. I’m not quite ready to
socialize yet.” He made a gesture with his hands as
though he was trying to slow someone down.
“Most of the people, I’ve talked to, think that you
have just become bored with us.” Dede moved from the
hat rack and leaned over with both hands on the table.
“We’re all worried that you’re thinking about leaving us.”
“Don’t be foolish. This town is my
family. I couldn’t leave here. Well
maybe I could leave the chief once in awhile, but it doesn’t last.
I just need time to heal.” He reached up and
patted her arm. This time his lips smiled, but still
his dark brown eyes didn’t.
“John we have a history together, good times and bad,
loving and fighting.” She ran her hand through his
salt-and-pepper hair. “My feelings for you have never
changed. I’m sure you know that. I would
like nothing more than to share your hurt with you.
When I see you like this it makes me want to cry.
Please tell me what’s wrong”
“Sugar, I promise that I will talk to you about this.
I’m just not ready yet. I care for you as well.
But, I made a vow never to get into another romantic
relationship again.”
“As many times as we broke up you never acted like
this. Has some woman hurt you this bad - the hard
core, ex-Army, police detective and private investigator John Bodie.
I would like to meet this lady, I think I’m jealous.
Who was she? Was it someone you met in
Arkansas? What’s her name? Where does
….”
“Stop it Dede, just stop it. You have
no idea what you are talking about. So let’s just drop
it, okay?”
“I’ll be damn - it is a woman. Wow, now
that’s a heart stopper. Well remember, I’m here for
you when you’re ready. Now you’d better order, Fred
will be in shortly and I’m sure you don’t want to talk to him
either.”
John ordered and watched the trim, blue eyed beauty
with the southern accent walk away with her blonde ponytail swinging
from side to side. She was right; time for grieving
had to end. It seemed to him that the older you get
the more emotional you are. He had never been felt
this sad before.
“My goodness if it isn’t the elusive Mr. Bodie.
How are you doing John?” Barbara was a five
foot, ten inch red headed administrative assistant to police chief.
John had given this lady, with a nice figure and brown eyes,
an employment polygraph for the job a few years before.
“I’m doing okay gal, how about you?”
Again, John attempted to smile. This time the effort
met with better results.
“Fred sure misses you. Don’t you tell
the cantankerous old curmudgeon I said so. Since you
started avoiding him he hasn’t had anyone to argue with.
Heck, I thought we were friends, John. The word
on the street is you are avoiding all of us.”
“I’m sorry Barb. I’m getting better;
before you know it I’ll be back out and play with Fred.
I’m just not ready yet.” John’s gaze returned
to the table top.
“Take your time John. You know what’s
best. We’ll wait. In the meantime, just
remember, we all love you. Talk to you later, I hope.”
John nodded to her as she left. He
looked at her briefly as she walked away but didn’t really see her.
He again stared at the top of the table and continued to
struggle with his depression.
“Here you go Sad Sack, eggs over easy, hash browns,
ham and white toast. Are you feeling any better now?”
Dede set the plate down and smiled.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about blowing up at you awhile ago.”
He unrolled the silverware from the napkin.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re worth
putting up with.” She winked at him and walked away as
seductively as she could, hoping he was watching.