Ultimate Justice

A light snow was falling as Charlie Reardon left the diner and made his way down Madison Street.  His thin boots crunched on the snow-covered sidewalk.  Charlie yanked his hood on and zipped his leather jacket.  Juniper had stood him up—again.  When would he finally accept the truth—she didn’t love him anymore, or sadly enough, maybe she never did?

A small town like Indian Creek had very few single women.  Most were married to farmers, and those remaining were too young or too old.  Charlie’s middle-aged physique longed for not only just plain, good ole sex, but his heart craved love.  He thought he’d found both in Juniper.  Unfortunately, it would seem not so.

            He unlocked the rustic front door.  The house was dark and empty.  Inside, he flipped a switch. The living area lit up. The second-hand maroon sofa, a well-worn lounge chair, and two scratched end tables decorated the space. A musty smell from the aged farmhouse lingered.

            Charlie’s cell phone vibrated. He immediately pulled it from his jeans pocket.  Juniper’s name flashed across the cracked screen.  Hesitating, letting his anger take control, he answered.  

            “What do you want, Juniper?” he demanded through gritted teeth.  Silence filled the air.  “Well, aren’t you going to answer me?  You called me!”  His face felt flushed.

            “Is this Mr. Charlie Reardon?” asked a male voice.

            “Who is this, and why do you have Juniper’s phone?”  His pulse quickened. 

            “This is Detective Stan Riley, from the Warsaw Police Department, sir.  Are you Mr. Charlie Reardon?” he repeated.

            “Yes, Detective Riley, I am.  Why do you have Juniper’s phone?” asked Charlie. His palms were sweating. 

            “Mr. Reardon…we’d like you to come to the Warsaw Police Department.  We’d like to ask you a few questions about a case we’re investigating,” said the detective.

            “What kind of case, and why do you have Juniper’s phone?” asked Charlie.  He plopped down heavily on the sinking sofa.

            “Sir, we’d rather not go into detail on the phone. Can you come down to the station?   Is now a good time for you?” questioned the detective.

            Charlie glanced up at the clock on the wall.  It was close to 2 a.m.  His eyes felt scratchy from the lateness of the hour.  “It’s two a.m., Detective.  Warsaw is about a half-hour drive from Indian Creek.  Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

            “Mr. Reardon, if this wasn’t important, we wouldn’t ask you to come at this late hour.  We really need to speak with you, sir.” 

Charlie sighed. “Alright…but I hope you plan on explaining why you have my girlfriend’s phone.  I’ll be there as soon as I can,” responded Charlie. 

“Thank you, sir.  And Mr. Reardon…drive safe.”  The call ended before Charlie could reply.

---

The deserted winding road to Warsaw was slippery.  The snow falling had turned to ice.  Charlie took his time and safely maneuvered his twenty-year-old pick-up on the hazardous pavement. He had no idea why the Warsaw Police wanted to speak with him.  Sometimes he could be a hothead, but not enough to get him into trouble with the law. Especially in Warsaw.  He hardly ever made a trip into the city.

About forty minutes later, Charlie pulled into the empty parking lot of the Warsaw Police Department.  He rang the buzzer since it was after “normal business hours.”  But then again, he didn’t realize crime was restricted to certain “hours” of the day. The large glass door immediately unlocked.  He stepped into the warm hallway and looked at the young female officer seated behind the bulletproof glass. 

            “Can I help you, sir?” she asked.  Her voice echoed inside the bubbled area.  He leaned close to the infused speaker.

            “Um…I’m Charlie Reardon…Detective Riley wanted to see me.”  He wiped his wet boots on the carpet. 

            “Please have a seat, Mr. Reardon.  I’ll contact Detective Riley.”  The female officer lifted a handset.  Seconds later, she hung up the phone.  Charlie was just about to sit down on the black vinyl chair. “Mr. Reardon, Detective Riley will be right with you.”  Charlie reared up and gave her a slight nod.  Seconds later, the large wooden door opened.  A tall and fit fiftyish man in a dark suit gestured for Charlie to follow him. 

            “You, Detective Riley?” asked Charlie, his feet planted firmly. 

            “Yes, I’m Detective Riley, and you’re Mr. Charlie Reardon.”  The detective’s eyes were deep blue.  His gaze fixated on Charlie’s face.  A long arm and well-manicured hand stuck out.  Charlie reciprocated.  The two men shook hands.   

            “If you will kindly follow me, Mr. Reardon.” 

Charlie stepped through the doorway.  A faint smell of Old Spice was in the air.  Stan Riley led the way.  Empty cubicles were on both sides of the narrow hallway. 

“Let’s use the smaller meeting room to talk.  This way, please.”  Riley pushed open an unmarked door.  Instantly, the lights flickered on.

“Please, Mr. Reardon,” said Riley, gesturing to sit at the large round table surrounded by several chairs. Charlie dropped down on the high-backed leather seat.  Riley took the one directly across from Charlie.  “Would you like a coffee, tea, or water?”

Charlie acknowledged him with a slight of his hand, meaning no.

“So, Detective Riley, why am I here?  Especially at three o’clock in the morning.  I should be at home, getting my beauty sleep.”  Charlie smiled. 

The veteran detective released a small sigh.  A light shadow was beginning to show on his chin.  It had been over 24 hours since he’d been home. A single manila file folder sat between the two men.  Riley slowly slid it in front of himself. 

“Mr. Reardon, I would like you to look at this photograph and tell me if you know this person.”  Riley opened the folder.  It was a black and white 8x10 photo of Juniper Hoffman.  Her face was washed out, and her eyes closed.  A sheet was pulled up to her bare shoulders.

Charlie lifted the photo so he could take a good look at the person.  His green eyes grew wide.  Nostrils flared.  “Say, what kind of joke is this?” He tossed the photo back onto the table.

“Mr. Reardon, do you or do you not recognize the person in this photo, air?” asked Riley softly.  Charlie shook his head up and down. 

“It’s…it’s Juniper…Juniper Hoffman.  My…girlfriend.”  He stared hard at Riley.  “What’s going on?”  His body tensed.  But deep inside, he knew.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Reardon, but Juniper Hoffman is deceased.  She is a victim by homicide, which means she was murdered, Mr. Reardon. I am truly sorry for your loss,” said the detective. 

“No.  No.”  Charlie shook his head from side to side. “This can’t be.  She was supposed to meet me at the diner, but she…she never showed up.  I just thought she didn’t want to…you know…be with me.”  Charlie winced as he looked at the inconceivable image again.  His eyes swelled with tears.  “Where did you find her?”  His voice was slow and thick.

Ignoring Charlie’s question, the detective moved on with his questioning.  “Can you tell me where you were yesterday, Mr. Reardon?”

Charlie’s eyes suddenly fixated on the detective’s face. “Hey, wait a minute…you don’t think I had anything to do with this…murder, do you?  Juniper was…is my girlfriend!  I loved her—a lot! I would never do such a thing!” exclaimed Charlie.  The detective remained silent.

“I already told you.  She was supposed to meet me at the diner, Toby’s Diner, last evening but never showed.  So, I left and walked home down Madison Street. I wasn’t even in the door five minutes before you called me, Detective.” Charlie squirmed in his seat.

“Why don’t we start from the beginning, Mr. Reardon?  Tell me what you did yesterday, beginning with what time you got up in the morning,” asked Riley.  He took out a small notebook and pen from his pocket.

Charlie described his day in detail, finishing with his ride to the Warsaw Police Department.  “And that’s about it, Detective.  I never saw Juniper yesterday…at all!” He ran his fingers through his thick brown hair. 

“Would you be willing to provide us with a sample of your DNA?  It helps with eliminating you as a suspect,” solicited the detective. 

Charlie sighed. “Sure…why not?  I didn’t do anything to Juniper.  I loved her.  I even figured…maybe someday we’d get married.”  Charlie’s chin trembled.

“I’ll be right back with the DNA kit, Mr. Reardon.” 

Detective Riley stood up and left Charlie alone in the room with the morgue photo of Juniper.  Charlie slowly slid it back towards him.  Seconds later, he wept.

---

For the next several weeks, Charlie’s mundane life went on.  The Warsaw Police gave up little information on the circumstances surrounding the mysterious death of Juniper, his girlfriend. There was no mention of Juniper’s murder anywhere in the newspaper.  In fact, there was only a short article pertaining to the death of a woman called Sally Richardson.

Charlie had already submitted his DNA and taken a lie detector test.  Not just once, but twice.  What did this all mean?  There was still a killer on the loose, getting away with murder.  And maybe Juniper wasn’t his only victim.

           Charlie called the detective.  He was patched through immediately.  “Detective Riley.”  Charlie suddenly became tongue-tied.  “This is Detective Riley.  May I help you?”

           “Um…yeah, Detective Riley…it’s Charlie Reardon.  I’m calling to see if you’ve made any progress on the Juniper Hoffman case.”  He could hear a faint rustle of papers.

           “Mr. Reardon…I was going to call you, sir.  We have a few more questions for you.  Any chance you could come down to the station…say, today?” asked the detective.

           “More questions?  I’ve told you everything I know!  Why aren’t you out looking for Juniper’s killer instead of questioning me all the time?  This guy could be anywhere, murdering more people.” Charlie pinched his lips together.

           “Mr. Reardon, it’s all part of the investigation.  Eliminating potential suspects…Like I told you before,” said Riley.  “This afternoon, then?”

           “Sure.  Business is slow here at the hardware store.”  Charlie ended the conversation.

Once again, Charlie told the same exact story as the previous times before.  He was getting aggravated being questioned over and over again.

           “…and I told you before, Detective, Juniper had no family in Indian Creek, or anywhere else I know of.  That’s what she told me, and I believed her,” replied Charlie.

           “Mr. Reardon, you’re telling me that you were in love with Juniper and were thinking about spending the rest of your life with her, but didn’t know she had a husband in Wisconsin?” explained Riley. 

Charlie just about choked on his swig of Pepsi. “What?  Juniper wasn’t married!  She would have told me.  I probably wouldn’t have gone out with her if I knew she was married!” he shouted.  “I may be a lot of things, but a homewrecker is not one of them.  Dating married women brings nothing but trouble!  Besides, she told me she grew up in Kansas.  Her parents died when she was young.  She was raised by a great-aunt.  Once she graduated from high school, she roamed from state to state, then about two years ago she finally settled in Indian Creek.  Look, Detective Riley, I told you all this before.”  Charlie crossed his arms.

           “You believed her story?” asked Riley.

           “Of course I did!  Why would I doubt it?  Why would she lie?  She seemed genuine and all.  I felt bad for her scraping by for food.  Odd jobs just to get by.  It’s a hard life, let alone being dealt a crappy hand.”  Charlie wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans.

           “Well, Juniper was not destitute. In fact, both of her parents are alive, and they are quite wealthy.  Her husband is also alive and makes a very good living.  She has been receiving allowance checks each month.  She opened an account here in Warsaw under her real name, Sally Richardson.  Everything you thought you knew about your girlfriend was just a façade.”  Detective Riley sat back in his chair and watched Charlie’s reaction.

Charlie remained silent.  His eyes blurred and face reddened.  How could she lie to him?  He loved her!  “I don’t know if I believe you.”  His voice was barely a whisper.

           “Are you sure you didn’t find out she was leading you on, so you decided to do something about it?” pushed Riley as he leaned forward. 

Charlie’s body tensed. “This is the last time I’m going to tell you, Detective Riley, I did not kill Juniper.”  Charlie abruptly stood up.  “And if you have any other questions, you can contact my lawyer.  I’m done here.”  With two long strides, Charlie was out the door to do some investigating on his own.

---

The sun rose slowly in the magenta sky. Charlie sat in his beat-up truck down the street from the Richardsons’ residence, which was located in the upper-class community of Glass Lake.  Unfortunately, he stuck out like a sore thumb.  He just wanted to get a glimpse of the husband Juniper had left behind. 

           A knock on his window startled him.  A Glass Lake police officer stood with his hand on his weapon.  He gestured for Charlie to roll down his window.  He cranked down the old window.

           “Morning to you, Officer.  Can I help you?” he asked, flashing a smile. 

           “License and registration, please,” responded the older cop. 

Charlie handed him both items. “Is everything alright, Officer?”  He smirked. 

The officer glanced down at the two documents, then handed them back to Charlie. “Mr. Reardon, may I ask the nature of your business here in Glass Lake?”  The older cop crossed his arms. 

           “Well, I thought I’d take a drive, and here I am!  I didn’t think it was against the law to sit inside your vehicle, Officer.”  It was then that Charlie noticed the front door open to the Richardsons’ house.

           “It’s not against the law to sit in your vehicle, Mr. Reardon, but it is against the law to sit in your vehicle on a street where there is ‘no parking.’  You need to move on, Mr. Reardon.  Now!” commanded the cop. 

Charlie started his truck.  The sharply dressed man exited the Richardsons’ house and climbed into his BMW.

           “I’m moving, Officer…have a nice day!” 

Charlie moved forward and fell in line behind the gentleman in the fancy car. 

Charlie eased behind the garbage truck, picking up trash.  The fancy dresser had pulled into the four-tier parking garage in Downtown Warsaw.  It wasn’t long before Charlie could see the suited man carrying his briefcase making his way across the skywalk above.  It led straight into the American Insurance high-rise. 

            As usual, Charlie had done his homework.  The Internet was bursting with information—all kinds of information—especially if someone was willing to pay for it.  And Charlie did.  He delved not only into the biographical background of the Richardson family, their financial background, too. And even though Sally had married Jackson Carter, she’d kept her maiden name, the name attached to the money—old money.

It would seem Sally’s husband married into the money ten years ago.  Her family had the financial stability wrapped around one of the largest life insurance companies within the state of Idaho. And by all means, Jackson must have wanted a huge piece of that pie.

           The more Charlie sat and thought about it, the more it felt like a definitive motive for murder. Maybe Sally had an enormous insurance policy on herself.  Jackson could have either murdered his wife for the money or paid someone else to do his dirty work.  But why wait for ten long years?  Maybe he found out about her indiscretions.  Maybe he was tired of her spending the money.  Maybe he just got greedy.  Maybe he had someone else on the side who was tired of waiting.  Maybe…

            It wouldn’t be the first time a spouse had murdered their significant other for sex or money. But how could he prove it?  Juniper deserved, at the least, justice.  She led a risky lifestyle, but she didn’t deserve to die. 

Charlie’s eyes blurred with tears.  He missed Juniper—not Sally, but Juniper.  She would always be Juniper to him.

---

Detective Riley fidgeted in the leather-backed chair, waiting for Jackson Carter.  Being on the twenty-eighth floor gave him the shivers.  He was not fond of heights.  Even if it was within the concrete walls of a high-rise.  And the elevator ride made him nauseated.  He pulled out a fresh pad and pen.  He had his doubts about Carter.  In fact, he was quite surprised when Carter agreed to speak with him without a lawyer present.  A good sign, or bad?

           The door opened, and the handsome insurance agent strolled in.  Riley stood up to greet the man.  Both men shook hands and proceeded to sit down, Carter behind his mahogany desk.

           “Detective Riley, how may I help you today?” And before Riley could respond, Carter continued. “I presume this unannounced visit is about the untimely death of my wife, Sally?”  Riley stared at the shrewd businessman. 

           “I just have a few questions for you, Mr. Carter.  And you are correct, this has to do with your deceased wife,” he said, noting the lack of emotion when Carter made reference to his dead wife. 

           “When did Mrs. Richardson leave you?” asked Riley.  Carter leaned forward on his desk.

           “Detective Riley, let’s get something straight…my wife never left me!  She liked to travel a lot. We were happily married.” Carter sat back in his seat.

           “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t Sally receiving allowance checks each month?” asked Riley.

           “Yes, indeed, she was.  She considered it her spending money.  I’m sure you already know it’s her family that are the wealthy ones—not me.  Sure, I make a decent amount, but in all reality, Sally controlled the finances, or should I say at least hers, not mine.”  Carter’s jaw clenched.  Riley hit a nerve.

           “What about her alleged indiscretions?” asked the detective. 

Carter’s eyes narrowed. “If my wife - and I emphasize the word if - had an affair while she was traveling, well, I wasn’t made aware of it.”

           “Ah, ha…what about life insurance?” pressed Riley.  Carter slowly swiveled his chair around.

           “What about it?” asked Carter.

           “I would assume since you work for the Richardsons’ life insurance agency, your wife would have had a substantial amount of life insurance?” asked Riley.

Carter sighed. “Detective Riley…I see where this questioning is leading…so I am terminating this interview.  Any other questions you may have can be addressed through my lawyer.  Good day, Detective.  You can see yourself out.”  And with that, Jackson Carter got up and left Riley alone. 

           Riley sat for a brief moment, then left the building.  He was positive the proceeds from the insurance policy were indeed a considerable payout.  Jackson Carter not only had the means but the motive for murder.  Now all he had to do was prove it.

---

Charlie Reardon followed Jackson Carter over the next couple of weeks.  It cost him money he didn’t have.  He had to hire someone to run his hardware store while he played detective.  After several encounters with the police, he was just about to give up his pursuit to solve Juniper’s murder when the unexpected happened. 

Carter was having lunch at the Red Star—one of the classier restaurants in downtown Warsaw—alone.  Alone, that is, until a stocky man in blue jeans and a tight polo shirt strolled up to Carter’s table and sat down.  Carter’s face reddened as he whispered something to the muscle-bound guy.  The unexpected guest roughly grabbed Jackson’s wrist.  Jackson squirmed in his seat. It was obvious he was very uncomfortable.  After several intense seconds, the burly man let go.  He stood up abruptly, toppling his chair backwards.  Many of the patrons in the restaurant stared at the unusual encounter between the two men.  Jackson cleared his throat and motioned for the server.  Minutes later, he was leaving the restaurant without finishing his lunch.

Charlie followed the muscle-bound man on foot.  He needed to speak with him.  Maybe he had some dirt on Carter.  After a block or so, Charlie sped up until he was alongside the hurried man.

“Hey buddy, got a minute?” Charlie called out.  The large man kept walking.  “Hey man, come on, don’t make me chase you!” 

Instantly, the bouncer-shaped guy stopped and turned to face Charlie.  Charlie almost ran into him.

“Why are you following me?” he asked, crossing his huge arms. 

Charlie swallowed.  He knew he had no chance against this weightlifter.  He held up his hands. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions,” replied Charlie. 

The tight-skinned man tilted his head. “About what?” answered the stranger.

“It’s not about what…more like who,” replied Charlie.

The big man shifted from one foot to the other. “Well…” said the stranger.  “Who?”

“Jackson Carter.”  Charlie shoved his nervous hands inside his jean pockets.  The sound of traffic echoed behind them.

“What about the jerk?” questioned the man.  Charlie let out a puff of air.

“Well, I’ll get straight to the point.  I saw what just happened in the restaurant.  I know that his wife was murdered.  And to be honest with you, I think that creep had something to do with her murder,” explained Charlie.

“What are you, a cop or private investigator?” asked the man.  His left eye twitched.

“Neither.  I’m a friend of Sally’s,” said Charlie.  “And I want justice for her.  I think Carter had her murdered for the life insurance payout.  Wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened, right?”  Charlie relaxed a tad. 

“I wouldn’t put it past the guy.  He’s a lowlife in a fancy suit.  Good luck on your search for the truth.”  And with that said, the muscle man turned and left Charlie standing alone.

Charlie immediately called Detective Riley. 

The detective answered, “Riley.” 

Charlie glanced around, making sure no one else could hear what he had to say. “Detective Riley…it’s Charlie Reardon.”  Silence.  “Hello?”

“Mr. Reardon, what can I help you with today?” His voice wavered.

“I was doing a little recon, and Carter met with this shady guy at lunch.  The two looked like they had a disagreement.  Anyways, I followed the bouncer and asked him about Carter.  Needless to say, he wasn’t receptive.  But I think Carter had this dude take out Juniper…I mean, Sally.  You should check this guy out.”  Charlie couldn’t get his words out fast enough.

“Mr. Reardon, we appreciate your wanting to help out with the investigation, but I can assure you we are working on several leads pertaining to the death of Sally Richardson.  I would advise you to stay clear of Mr. Jackson Carter and…any or all of his associates.  Are we clear, Mr. Reardon?  Please let the police do their job. And if you continue on with your own investigation, you may be visiting the inside of a jail cell for obstruction of justice. Now, if we have any more questions for you, we will contact your attorney. Have a nice day, Mr. Reardon.” 

Charlie licked his dry lips. He was quickly running out of money and the resources to pursue his own theories.  Maybe Riley was right.  It was time to step back and let the police do what they do best.

---

Sally Richardson’s murder trial lasted eight days.  Jackson Carter’s defense attorneys outnumbered the prosecution’s three to one.  The jury was swift with their unanimous decision—Not Guilty.

Charlie’s stomach churned as he read the article in The Warsaw Gazette.  Insufficient evidence to link Jackson Carter to the death of his wife.  The entire Richardson clan was behind Jackson Carter during the trial.  So much for family loyalty.  Sally was dispensable.  An ugly mark on the legacy of old money. 

His eyes filled with tears.  Charlie saw a side to Sally no one else took the time to see.  And even if in the future something, anything, should surface to connect her husband to her death, double jeopardy would prevail. 

---

Charlie loaded the last heavy box onto the dolly.  He whistled as he pushed it through into the main aisle of his hardware store.  Business had picked up since the changing of seasons.  It didn’t take much for his thoughts to wander.  Juniper would have enjoyed the blossoms on the cherry trees that lined Madison Street.  His shoulders drooped as his chin quivered.  Sadness seeped into his soul.  Suddenly, a voice boomed from the front of the store.

“Charlie?” called the stranger. 

Charlie cleared his throat and wiped the wetness from his eyes. “Over here,” he replied. 

Charlie moved toward the front counter.  There, standing with a huge grin on his face, was the muscle-bound guy he stopped on the street in downtown Warsaw.

“Can I help you?” asked Charlie.

His steps slowed to a halt.  The stranger looked larger than before.  Muscles rippled up and down his thick arms. 

“Remember me?” The stranger smiled.  His pearly whites filled his tanned, round face.

“I do.  What do you want?” questioned Charlie.  He leaned against the worn counter.

“Ultimate justice.” 

With that said, the burly man tossed a folded newspaper near the cash register and left the store without saying another word.  Charlie blinked several times before he moved.  With shaking hands, he opened the paper.  On the front page of The Warsaw Gazette was a photo of Jackson Carter.  Above, the headline read: Life Insurance Agent Dies in Traffic Accident.

“What the…” Charlie continued to read.  “…well-known life insurance agent Jackson Carter, died yesterday in a tragic traffic accident when a Metro Bus struck him as he crossed Needham Avenue. Witnesses report seeing Mr. Carter talking with a man before stepping out into the street…Mr. Jackson Carter was acquitted of his wife’s murder…no one else had been arrested in the killing of Sally Richardson.  The Warsaw Police Department states Sally Richardson’s case is unsolved and remains an open, active case.

           “Not anymore.”

Charlie closed the newspaper, then pitched it into the garbage can.