A Loner Mentalist Pt. 05

"Yes, in this very bathroom, twice since remodeled, young Dorothy Bainbridge ended her unhappy life. Her story ended that night, but this room is about to bring doom to someone else." The screen showed the realtor sitting in his office, scribbling obliviously at some papers. "This man, Martin Lehaine, is both the house's new owner and the realtor trying to sell, or rent the property. He is legally obligated to reveal the fate of Miss Bainbridge to all prospective buyers and renters, but he is not doing this. His reason is strictly greed. He had gotten the house for peanuts at auction so he could lease it out at a reduced price and still cover the costs of his investment, but he wanted far more than just that.

"The knowledge of a suicide having happened there would drive some of the prospective buyers and renters away, so he is denying that information, taking a reasonable gamble that no one would ever go to the bother of looking it up. What manner of misfortune shall the fates deign to have befall Mister Lehaine for his transgression? Join us on the next episode of Jack's visions to find out!"

The movie faded from the screen and Jack blinked. "Whoa." He was faced with a tough choice. He could have this beautiful house for peanuts if he was willing to record the realtor denying the suicide. Since that was grounds for losing his license, and thus his livelihood, Jack would be able to blackmail him with the recording and dictate the terms of the lease.

He drew a deep breath and slowly let it out. That was certainly not the honorable thing to do.Two wrongs don't make a right.

At the same time, he couldn't help imagining himself bending Mia over each and every piece of furniture inside the house. He imagined filling her mind with pure pleasure as she willingly surrendered her body to him. The thought of being able to do that at his leisure and not have to worry about anyone interrupting them was very enticing. Deputy Drew had already come across them when they were intimate and Jack didn't think he could handle Janice walking in on them, too.

As he thought of Drew Maynard, he saw another movie start to play on the screen. When he thought of Janice, the movie abruptly changed to show her flirting with an elderly orthodontist from town.

"Gah! Change film! Change film! Back to Drew! Back to Drew!"

The film changed to one of Drew Maynard, looking strange and wearing a Sheriff's uniform from the next county. The picture was in color, but of poor quality, looking like it had been shot on video in the early nineties. When Drew entered his office and took off his hat, Jack realized he wasn't seeing Drew, but his father. The two looked so much alike in their hats and uniforms, especially with their identical, blonde, bushy moustaches.

Sheriff Maynard sat at his desk and his two children came into his office. Jack smiled at the sight of a young, svelte Chrissie and moustacheless Drew. They were both deputies and they presented their father and boss with cellphone records that suggested the local biker gang was running drugs and a prostitution ring in their jurisdiction.

The old sheriff didn't "rightly understand" all this new technology, but he decided to trust in Chrissie's analysis. He turned to the local judge and asked for warrants to be issued.

Unfortunately for the Maynard family, the bikers had been around the block a few times by then. They had already bought the judge's election and he had warned them of what the Maynards were planning. At the same time, he delayed issuing the warrants under the pretense of needing to look up the regulations of the law enforcement's use of this new cellphone technology.

While the Maynards went fishing on a lake up in the mountains to relax and discreetly plan how to take down a major criminal organization, the biker gang moved fast. They concocted a plan to frame the Maynards for any and all of their own crimes that could be proven.

They had enough cash and girls on hand to buy the deputies they could and offered Maynard's second in command the coveted Sheriff's post. The deputies that tried to reach the Maynards and stand by them and the rule of law were quickly brought to heel with threats aimed at their loved ones.

By the time the Maynards came back down the mountain, the whole department was either against them, or keeping out of the matter. With planted evidence and intimidated or paid witnesses, the Maynards were prosecuted for crimes the bikers had done. Sheriff Maynard took the brunt of the charges and, seeing he was not going to get out, tried to take the heat for all the stuff they were pinning on his kids. Drew walked, but Chrissie got to serve five years in prison.

Old Sheriff Maynard didn't last that long. He was shanked to death at the new sheriff's orders two weeks into his sentence. Drew had grabbed every gun and piece of ammo he could find and tried to go on a bloody rampage throughout the county, but the deputies that felt shame managed to stop him. They talked him into moving to Springfield, where the local sheriff took him on as deputy and tasked him with making absolutely sure the bikers didn't so much as spit across the town limits.

The traitor remained sheriff to this day, basking in his authority and getting freebies from every desperate young woman the bikers could get their hands on. The bikers were getting fat on running drugs and pimping girls. Every now and then, a girl would get offered a second chance at life and try to take it. The bikers didn't let girls go until they judged they had made them enough money.

Some would be easily cowed to keep being used as a piece of meat by callous fuckers. Those that tried to run away would be beaten to death and left by the side of the road, next to a broken down bike. The sheriff that used to fuck them for free would declare their deaths bike accidents. Seven young women met their brutal end in the last twenty years that way. Four orphans were left behind those innocent, young women.

Those weren't the only bodies the bikers dropped. Anyone that threatened to expose their operation, or turn state's evidence, was buried deep in the woods. Jack saw nine graves scattered over the mountainside.

He felt Drew's impotent rage and frustration and shared it. If it weren't for Alpha guarding the group home, Mia and quite a few other girls in it would have been forcibly recruited by the bikers to be their hookers. He quickly came to a decision to destroy this evil. Honor demanded it.

His fists flexed and his teeth grit as he thought about the gang and the traitor sheriff. He saw a movie that detailed how they operated and laundered their money. He saw how they rotated their gathering places and changed their communications. He learned everything there was to know about them.

The pot finally ran out and he found himself back in his room. He drew his cloak around his mind and sat at his desk. He grabbed a piece of paper and began to write down all he had seen to keep it straight. He was so angry at all the evil that was out in the world that he even wrote down all the repairs the house he had seen would need done. Once he got it all down on paper, including a map of the gravesites, he realized his stomach was growling.

The pot had hung around his system long enough to give him a wicked case of the munchies. He went downstairs and collected all the cookies that were there. He brought them to his room and slowly ate every last one as he carefully thought of how to take down the biker gang and Sheriff Sonuvabitch Traitor.

By the time he heard his dogs try to stop Mia from coming into the house, he had a plan. It wasn't the best of plans, but he was happy with it. He would need help with a few crucial steps, however. He sent his dogs the order to chill out. He checked the clock on his desk and saw that it was almost four in the afternoon. He was still feeling a bit hungry. He put his notes into a drawer of his desk and got up to put on a dress shirt.

"Hey, Mia," he called out, "you wanna go out for lunch?"

She rushed up the stairs with a smile. "I could eat. Where are we going?"

"I heard nice things about a place in the city."

"Who would you hear anything from?"

He gasped in mock offense. "Is that a dig at my popularity?"

"Yes."

"Well, egg's on your face. Back when I toured the University, some very amiable juniors told me about it."

Mia gave him a sour smile, but quickly dropped it. She squinted at him. "Were these juniors male or female?"

Jack channeled a politician at a Senate hearing as he said, "I am unable to clearly recall that information at this particular moment."

"Ha, ha, very funny."

He took a long look at her pretty face. She gave him a questioning look in response. "Mia, would you like to go on an adventure?"

She smiled wide. "Sure! What kind of adventure?"

"Fighting crime." She stared at him in surprise. "Taking down a vicious biker gang, to be more exact."

She stammered for a few moments and then said, "I'd love to do something exciting, but that sounds dangerous. I don't want to die for the sake of a quick thrill."

"That's not really a risk. Your part in my plan is short and sweet. More glamour and sophistication that any actual danger. But, yeah, if things go horribly, horribly wrong at every single step of the way, then we're going to have to run away, really fast and really far."

Mia bit her lip and considered his words. "But there will be no shootout, or anything like that?"

"No. None whatsoever." He held up two fingers. "Scout's honor!"

"What's the plan?"

"I'll tell you over lunch, when I tell the others."

"Others?"

"Yeah, we're not doing this all alone. I'm inviting some professionals to join our mission. Listen, have you got any photos that are document sized, like for an ID?"

She frowned in concentration. "Uh, yeah." She looked at her bedroom door and nodded. "Yes, I think I do. Why?"

"I'll tell you when I lay out the plan. Could you go get them?"

"Sure."

"Great! Thanks, babe!

She into her room to search for photos. He took out his cellphone and dialed a number as he walked downstairs. "Hey, Chrissie, it's your favorite dog trainer."

She sighed audibly. "Jack, I can't tell you how sorry I am for-"

"Yeah, I'm not calling you about that. How would you like a fancy lunch, on me?"

"Um...what?"

"Well, it's not a hundred percent free. You need to bring your old deputy's uniform. Back when you were your dad's favorite deputy, you were about my size, right?"

"What?"

"I'll explain it all to you when we meet. Come to the Leaky Ladle on Madison. It's in the city. Bring Drew with you. But, seriously, you should take that uniform out of mothballs right now."

"Jack, you're not making any sense. What's this all about?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you? I'm bringing down the fucker that had your dad murdered and you sent upstate for a nickel. I'm also gonna take down the biker shits, once and for all, and make them answer for all the blood that's on their hands. Provided, that is, that you bring me Drew and your old uniform." There was only silence on the other end of the line. "Be there at five, ok?"

"Uh...yes?"

He hung up and saw Mia coming down the stairs. She was holding a small envelope. "Are those the photos?" Jack asked. She nodded. "Cool. Let's go to lunch!

As he drove them to the city, Mia pressed him for information on this gang they were after. He told her about the lives they've taken and she fell silent. For the rest of the drive to the city, she seemed lost in thought. Jack grimaced, thinking that he had lost her. A crucial part of his plan hinged on her participation.

When he parked with the restaurant's valet, Mia suddenly grabbed his forearm. She looked him straight in the eye as she said, "I'm in. Whatever it takes to bring down these bastards, I'll do it!"

He smiled and patted her hand. "Thanks, Mia. I promise you won't have to demean yourself, or anything. Let's go inside and I'll tell you all about it."

He got out and let the valet park his car. They went in and only had time to place their orders before the Maynards showed up. Jack waved them over to their table.

Chrissie practically stomped over. "What the hell is the matter with you, young man?!"

Jack rose from his seat and put his hands up in a mollifying gesture. "Hey. Keep it down."

Chrissie scowled at him and he felt very uncomfortable under her glare. Drew joined them. "Tell him," Chrissie said, pointing at her brother. "Tell him what you said to me, right before you hung up! Go on! Tell him!"

"Let's everyone just be seated so we can discuss this calmly," Jack said.

"You need to be put over my knee and spanked until your brain starts working, Jack. That's what you need!"

Jack pulled out a chair. "Chrissie, please."

She glared at him with tightly pursed lips, but then conceded and sat down. Once Drew and Jack sat, Drew spoke up. "So you honestly think you got a handle on these guys?"

Chrissie shot her brother a surprised look. "I can't believe you're going to pander to this suicidal, teenage fantasy. For God's sake, Drew! You of all people should know better!"

Drew kept his steely gaze on Jack as he told his sister, "I'm just here to listen."

Chrissie seemed to finally notice the fourth person seated at the table. "Mia, what are you doing here?"

"I'm helping Jack put those bastards down."

Chrissie made a quiet noise of exasperation and buried her face in her hands.

"You can trust Mia," Jack said. "She's with me on this, one hundred percent. Her participation is actually crucial for this plan to work."

Drew nodded at Jack. "I'm listening."

Jack cleared his throat. "The Sheriff's department is just getting kickbacks for protecting the bikers. They're all getting freebies from the girls and a few of the deputies are occasionally using some meth. There's no meat for a case there. We can't nail them all if we go after the department."

Drew nodded with a somber expression. Jack continued. "The gang, however, has a weak spot. They're not as homogenous and unified as they like everyone to think. The next generation is trying to supplant the elders, who don't want to be taken out of the business they built. If a big shipment of product went missing, they'd be at each other's throats in a heartbeat. And if one of the Sheriff's deputies were to take it, then all hell would break loose and they'd have to summon everyone in one place to have it all out, or risk a war that would leave most of them dead within a week."

Chrissie raised her head. "Oh, for the love of...Jack, no one knows how they move their product, or launder their money!" She looked at Drew's firm face and then at Jack's mischievous expression. "And even if we did somehow learn about those things, we couldn't do a goddamn thing. We are not sheriff's deputies in that jurisdiction and the Hoover boys won't lift a finger without hard evidence. Hard evidence we can't get without legal warrants." She put a hand over her brother's. "Come on, Drew. This is stupid. Let's just go home and-"

"And what?!" Drew said, shooting her a look. "Sit on my ass and grow older and fatter while the piece of shit that ruined our lives, thatmurdered our father, lives free and acts like he's The Almighty himself?" He took a big breath and seemed to bite back the rest of what he was about to say. He looked back into Jack's eyes. "I'm listening."

Chrissie looked down and shook her head. "Why did I even mention this to you?"

Jack cleared his throat. "They steal the identities of dead people and use them to set up businesses throughout the county. They launder their money through those businesses and move the drugs in the official delivery vehicles."

Chrissie and Drew both looked shocked at Jack's words. He gave them a sour grin. "I bet you thought they just hauled them around on their bikes, huh? You probably tried to steal the books for their bike shops and the bar they openly own." He shook his head. "It's the wealthy, stand up citizens you have to look at to find the money. In particular, the ones whom no one around here had ever seen in person cause they supposedly live out on the coast."

Chrissie and Drew looked into each other's eyes, clearly considering his claim to be likely. "Why do you think that?" Drew asked him.

Jack leaned back in his seat. "I've cultivated a CI."

Chrissie's brow shot up as her jaw dropped. "You? You cultivated a CI? Do you even know what those letters mean, Jack?"

"Who is it?" Drew asked him.

"C as in confidential. I as in, I'm not telling."

Chrissie opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when the waiter brought Jack and Mia's appetizers. He took the Maynards' orders and left. Chrissie leaned in towards Jack and quietly said, "Look, Jack, I don't know how you got mixed up in all this business, but you need to put a lot of distance between yourself and this gang. These people are not stupid. They probably saw you coming a mile away. Whoever's been talking to you is feeding you a line of bull to draw you into a trap, or set you up to take the fall for something. Trust us, we know what that's like."

"I've already verified the information I was given. There are nine graves in the foothills of the mountain." Jack recited the names of the nine victims and Chrissie and Drew exchanged a look. He could tell from their expressions that he had managed to convince them of the veracity of his intel.

"There are two million laundered dollars in a bank account and there will be about thirty pounds of assorted drugs in the back of a florist's shop tomorrow. If you give me your old uniform, Chrissie, I can swoop in and take the drugs. If we make a fake ID for Mia, she can waltz into the bank and take their money. They'll call an emergency meeting with all hands on deck, including the Sheriff's people, and then all we have to do is record it. They'll freely admit enough stuff to have the State Police come in and sort this mess out."

"How would we know when and where they'd hold this meeting?" Chrissie asked.

"They'll hold it in the lumberyard. That's one of their holdings and, this week, that's the place where everything happens. As for the when?" Jack shrugged. "I'm guessing an hour after we hit them." They shut up when the waiter brought the Maynards' starters. "We should go over there, right now, and hide some recording devices in the mill."

Drew got a faraway look in his eyes which Chrissie found unsettling. "Please tell me you're not considering this, Drew! Let's just go to one of these alleged graves with a cadaver dog and verify the source. We can have them exhumed and have an investigation opened and-"

"And have that piece of shit Sheriff bury it, like always," Drew finished her sentence. "He'll probably try to pin it on you, no matter what the forensics say. You know they can simply rig a jury, if all else fails." Drew took a long breath and nodded to himself. "No. Jack's got a point. We need to hit them all at once and have the investigation taken out of that scumsucker's hands. Put it in the hands of the State Police. Or the Bureau. Once they're all in custody, we can have those corpses dug up and play pin the murder on the scumbag." Drew dramatically bit into his forkful of amuse-bouche.

"So, you're going along with this hare-brained scheme?" Chrissie asked him. "Look, Drew, I want to take down these fuckers as much as you do, but we can't do that if we get ourselves killed, or imprisoned. Which is what will happen to us if we go to that lumberyard to plant bugs and shit."

Drew said, "Agreed." Chrissie stopped and stared at him, shocked that he was listening to reason. He stared Jack right in the eye. "Are you completely sure about your intel?" Jack solemnly nodded.

"Drew," Chrissie exclaimed.