JUSTICE REBORN (A Charlie Taylor Novel Book 1) by Ivan Bering

have
you been able to get Stephen in the mood?”
    Both men smiled. George probably understood
Stephen as well as anyone, and he sensed his friend’s withdrawal. There seemed
to be a regular pattern; any discussion, beyond superficial comments, about
Justice Reborn, and Steve quickly changed the subject. It left the impression
Steve’s friends couldn’t be trusted to understand the implications or gravity
of the new system of justice.
    George thought about Stella’s complaint:
Stephen was thoroughly entangled in his new appointment, marriage and
friendship slipping off the table.
     
     

CHAPTER 13:  Charlie’s Log: At the
Hotel
    I’m on my way to the Ritz to meet Wes. And
yes, I’m late.
    This hotel is now confirmed as the location
of the fifth serial killing.  Although I am sprinting from one place to
another, I feel better. This is what I need:  a full workload, a challenge,
pressure and the company of a team. It’s late in the day. I should have been
there hours ago.
      Wes and I worked numerous homicides;
we’re close for various reasons, but I think he is most grateful for one
unofficial sting. Early in Wes’s career, his good looks and a few too many
beers resulted in an affair. He wasn’t married at the time, but Mrs. Alice
Price, wife of the Chair of the Police Commission was. At first Wes enjoyed the
excitement of an affair with an older woman and the attention of someone placed
so close to the top of the pole. The crash came when Alice declared her love
and her plan to divorce her husband; she was adamant. My stunned partner
pleaded for help.
     I literally forced Alice to meet me, my
excuse: I felt obligated to warn her about Wes. I didn’t give her a chance to
decline but launched right into my pitch. Wes was AC/DC and rather reckless
with his sex life, AIDS certainly a possibility for any partner. She became
outraged and proclaimed Wes had nothing to do with her, and, in any case, she
didn’t believe me.
      I played my trump card and dumped the
pictures on the table. There was a naked Wes and another man as his company,
also without clothes. Each picture presented a different position or a
different angle, the light and focus not great, but the situation was obvious.I
pressed. “My recommendation get a blood test as soon as possible. For your
husband, best to wait to see if it will be necessary, and be grateful if you
are not infected. These pictures and the enclosed note warned about unprotected
sex with this detective. I think the anonymous sender is the other man in the
picture, angry because Wes found a younger man.”
     
     By the next day she refused to answer any
of Wes’s calls; he was delighted. It only cost him a few hundred dollars for my
friend to doctor a series of photos.
    Of course our relationship goes beyond this
incident; he was a real strength in the weeks after the accident which killed
my family. Millie, his wife, who was in our car when the crash happened, is
still wrestling with depression. Wes rarely talks about her problems. In the
days after the accident, Wes, teaming with Monk, took charge. Between the two
of them they looked after the myriad of details associated with these types of
bloody disasters.
    Wes is the lobby waiting. The place
presents as you would expect from a five-star hotel, a large rotunda, opulent
with thick carpeting, many plants, bright lights and well-dressed people,
representing a contemporary cross section of the affluent.
     In the lobby is a huge fountain, spraying
water about 20 feet in the air, the water falling back into a circular basin
filled with various marble nymphs, a centerpiece for the hotel. There are
numerous staff ready to be of assistance, adroitly located to be available but
not obtrusive, most wear the brilliant gold hotel vests. At the north end is a
bank of elevators all with clear glass facing the lobby, providing a view as
you ascend to your floor, not for the vertically challenged. Not your first
choice as a murder