Justiceman

Chapter 1

I braced myself for impact in the back of the hearse, feeling as if it took forever. Once it hit the guardrail, I was shoved into the rear glass wall with a thud while the coffin pressed against my back, flattening my falsies even more. At least I had padding.

When I thought it was safe, I took mental inventory of myself. Since I was fine, I stared out the front to make sure the hearse wasn’t heading over the edge past the guardrail. Steam billowed into the air in the darkness of the moonlit night, but the car remained motionless.

All I did was crawl out of the coffin and wave, I said to no one. What did the driver think I was, a ghost or something? I pushed the coffin away from me and shoved it against the side wall.

The back of the hearse flew open, making me stare into the moonlit countryside. No one was there except for the barrel of a handgun appearing at the edge of the door. If you’re alive, come out with your hands up. It was a loud nervous male voice, probably the driver. Considering we were in the middle of Nowhere, Nevada, on a warm June night, it had to be the driver. No one else was around or they’d probably be eaten by coyotes. I wasn’t deaf, but the good-looking driver must’ve thought the dead couldn’t hear from the way he yelled.

I moved a little bit closer to the door. If I’m alive? What do you think?

The driver, with the dark slightly curly hair, popped his head forward toward the open door, keeping his terrified-looking eyes on me.

I hiked up my breasts with my hands, then reached down into my size triple-D cup on the left side and removed a falsie. I hate that part. I did the same on the right while the cutie with the gun moved in front of the open door, staring at my boobs with his mouth hanging open.

He blinked twice, probably reliving a childhood dream in his head. You just removed—

Yep. Falsies. Get over it. I stuffed the pieces of covered foam into my tight shorts pocket and moved closer to him at to the back of the hearse. I want to thank you for rescuing me. I thrust out my hand in a greeting.

The man lifted his mouth from where it had been hanging, but didn’t shake my hand. As I dropped my arm in awkward embarrassment, he lowered his eyes to my breasts, to the coffin, and back to my breasts again. Excuse me? he said. Rescuing you? But you weren’t the dead guy in that box. Where is he?

I’m definitely not him. The man in front of me wasn’t wearing a ring, so I shot Mr. Adorable my ‘come-hither’ grin in the moonlight. He’s sitting at a bus stop on the Vegas strip, waiting for a taxi. He was so tiny; it was easy to pull him out of the back of your hearse. Was he a midget or something?

Yes, but it’s more politically correct to call them ‘little people.’ He worked as an actor on the strip.

I’ll make a note of the little people name. Not. I wasn’t into being politically correct. Thanks.

I crawled out of the back, standing a good ten inches shorter than the sexy man still holding the gun. I was a sucker for men with guns. Actually, I was a sucker for men, period.

As I took a breath to hike up my breasts even more, I grinned at the guy. I pinned a note on the ‘little person’ so someone would send him to the home of none other than Giuseppe Pasquale.

Mr. Sexy raised his eyebrows. The mob boss?

I stared down at my bust line again, adjusting my top. I hate falsies. Now the bra’s too big and I might fall out. As I lifted my eyes to his grin, I winked. Yes, the mob boss. He hired me—

Mr. Sexy’s grin morphed into a frown as he lifted his gun higher. Hired you?

Yes. Why?

I’m a cop for the Las Vegas Police Department.

I glanced toward the hearse in confusion. Cops drive hearses now? Is money that tight for the LVPD that they have to outsource?

No. My brother owns a mortuary and I help him out every once in a while. I’m not on duty as a cop right now.

I grinned and inched up closer to him in a come-hither move. Cops turn me on.

No, you don’t, missy. He raised his gun as he took a step backward. You have the right to remain silent—

What for? I didn’t do anything wrong. Other than take a body from the back of a hearse and put it on a city bench…oh yeah…and steal money from Giuseppe. But stealing from a thief didn’t sound illegal to me.

The cop-slash-hearse driver leveled his gaze on my face. Giuseppe Pasquale hired you and that’s good enough for me to arrest you.

My hands flew to my hips. For being a cop, you’re kind of naïve. Are you a rookie?

Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t use this gun. The sidearm shook in his hand. Definite rookie.

I reached up and flipped on the safety. You’re not going to shoot me. I’m not a threat to you, so put the gun away and face me like a man.

He swallowed hard as his expression turned innocent, and stuffed the gun back into his pocket. Yes, ma’am?

That’s better. I moved closer and stroked the hair on his temples. What’s your name, handsome?

N-n-ame?

I leaned into him, moved my hand to his chest, and met his gaze. With the full moon, I could make out enough of his face, light-colored eyes, and studly body. Yes, your name. A cute hunky man like you has a name, right? I stroked his chest because he looked more like a stroker to me than a take-charge kind of guy.

Buddy, he whispered.

I leaned in and touched my lips to his. Well, Buddy, this is your lucky day.

He shifted his jeans a bit. It is? His voice cracked.

He was right where I wanted him.

I grinned, playing up to him even more. I want to take some evidence to the police station so I can get Giuseppe in trouble. Can you take me there?

Buddy took a step back, seeming to assess me from head to toe. Just as he was about to speak, a car motor sounded in the distance. I turned and made a beeline for the front seat of the hearse.

Where are you going? he asked.

To hide. That might be Giuseppe or one of his goons.

But he’ll find you.

I opened the door of the hearse. No, he won’t. I handed him a blanket from the front seat. Throw this over me when I get in place.

He glanced back at the sound. He’ll figure it out.

Trust me, Buddy. I touched my lips to his with a grin as the car got closer. After sitting on the passenger’s side floor, I bent myself into a very small ball with my knees around the back of my neck. Throw the blanket over me.

Buddy just stared. Ho-ly—how do you do that?

I used to work for the circus. I was a contortionist.

I bet you’re good…uh…anywhere.

I chuckled. Male attention was like a game to me. You’ll have to find out. Blanket, please?

He did as he was told and shut the door. The car stopped beside the hearse, with mumbling sounds coming through the open window. The volume of the conversation suddenly got louder.

Where’s the girl? the unknown man asked. He sounded like a thug.

What girl? Buddy had just earned himself a huge, wet kiss.

Was there a girl in the hearse with you?

No, and I told you before there wasn’t. Go ahead and check. I went off the road when a coyote ran in front of me.

I waited and held my breath as long as I could, certain they’d check under the blanket. But I was so small that they couldn’t think I was in the car, could they?

The back of the hearse moved downward and the coffin lid screeched a few times. The sound made me think those coffins had been used more than once. I wanted to write an exposé on it someday, digging up bodies by moonlight to see if they were in coffins or not.

Within minutes, the other car drove away.

Buddy spoke on his cell phone, getting closer to the car. Yes, we need a tow truck at that address. Uh-huh. The blanket lifted off me and Buddy touched my arm. I unfolded myself, got out of the passenger’s side, and headed for the back of the hearse. After climbing inside, I knelt beside the coffin, lifted the screechy used lid, and stuck my hand under the fabric on the bottom. The bag of money inside was bigger than the palm of my hand, probably containing at least a few thousand dollars. It would come in handy, but I might get even more information if I turned it in like a good girl.

I climbed out of the hearse and handed the bag to Buddy.

He ended his call and stared at the bag, the light from the passenger’s side of the hearse illuminating his face. What’s this?

A bag of money. I pointed to the side. See where it says so right on the side? Sixth Bank of Broadway Cash Deposit. Cash means money, in case you didn’t know that.

I know that, he said in a sarcastic tone. I guess I sounded dim-witted or something, but it was pretty obvious to me that it was money. Where did you get it?

I took it from Giuseppe’s home, where there are at least twenty more bags just like this one. I assume it’s from a robbery. Right?

Probably. He examined the side of the bag and lifted it in his hands. Did you open it?

No, because—

And he did. As soon as the bag opened with his head facing the top, a huge blue cloud of dye exploded in his face and on his hands, drifting down to his shoes.

I backed away with a chuckle, unscathed, to the front passenger’s side of the vehicle. You’re in so much trouble—

I see that. He looked at me with very blue skin, covering everything except for small flesh circles and wrinkles around his eyes. I’d say yes, this is from a robbery. I have to phone this in.

Yep. I laughed at him. Are you feeling blue, by chance?

Very funny. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed again, as fast as he could. Bob, it’s Buddy. I have a problem.

A problem, for sure. I reached into the pocket of my short shorts and removed a very thin cell phone, turned it on and dialed the editor of the Las Vegas Times. Hey, Frank. Whatcha paying for a story about a robbery these days?

It’s my little part-time freelancer, Aspen. Who’s the robber? Frank always sounded very burly and deep-voiced, probably because he was a chain-smoker.

None other than Giuseppe Pasquale.

The mobster? Whatcha got?

I glanced over at Buddy, who was still holding onto the blue bag. A bag of loot. I got him red-handed. I did as you said, and—

You played a hooker on the strip? Frank asked. That was just a suggestion. I didn’t mean for you to risk your life. We can’t pay if you get hurt.

Relax. I didn’t get cozy with him. But I got a bag of the cash and it just exploded in a cop’s face. He’s sort of blue now, except for the rings around his eyes, kind of like a raccoon.

Frank chuckled. I guess he saw this sort of thing all the time. Where are you? I want a picture.

Wait. I’ll call you back. I don’t multitask well. I ended the call, aimed my phone at Buddy and snapped a picture, then sent it to Frank and called him again. When he answered, he was laughing so hard, I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Buddy was still on his phone trying to explain the situation to someone, so he had no idea I’d taken a picture.

I had to raise my voice over the laughter on my phone. Frank? How much?

Two grand, he finally wheezed out. That’s all we can afford before the paper goes bankrupt.

Five, and I want the top of the front page.

Get the shot of Giuseppe being brought in tonight, and it’s a deal. Otherwise, nothing. He ended the call, still laughing.

Great. Now I just had to get Giuseppe hauled into jail. Who knew how fast these yahoo cops would work. Buddy wouldn’t be helpful, looking like he should be performing at a club on the strip as a blue person. No, I was on my own for this story.

I just needed a plan to get away from Officer Blue Face so I could take on a mob boss. No big deal—I hoped.

~~~~~

Chapter 2

I got out of the car and slapped Buddy on the back. See ya. Thanks for the ride. I turned and walked away.

Wait just a minute, lady. He flipped his phone closed and grabbed my hand, forcing me to turn toward him.

What?

I have to take you in.

I looked at him as if he was crazy. With his blue face and hands, he certainly fit the part.

Why? I said. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t steal the money from the bank and certainly didn’t hurt anyone. You’re the one who opened the bag. I raked my eyes over him. And you really can’t escape that fact. I wanted to laugh, but it wasn’t the right time, considering he was packing heat.

I’m supposed to bring you in anyway. Besides moving a dead body, you knew where the money was hidden. I doubt the dead guy put the money there himself. He would’ve had to do it after he died, because his wife picked out the casket when he was in the morgue. I watched her pick it out, and she’s innocent.

He doubted the dead guy took the money? This guy was brilliant. And the wife couldn’t have been much brighter, picking out a used casket.

I sighed at Buddy, the genius, then remembered old Giuseppe and slapped Buddy on the shoulder. Tell you what. I’ll make you a deal. I had to slip in my verbal legal form, in case Frank ever asked. You bring in Giuseppe, and I’ll talk to your boss about what happened so you don’t get in trouble with the hearse, as long as you give me implied permission for that picture of you. I had to confuse him with the facts. If he didn’t explicitly deny permission, I was home free. But I don’t want my name on any documents for the mob to find. Got it?

That’s not how I work. I have to prove to my boss that I’m tough.

He didn’t catch the implied permission. Good. If he didn’t deny it, he’d admitted his picture could be used, according to Frank’s version of the law, which bordered on an extremely dark gray interpretation of legalities.

You’re tough? I bit my lips, trying not to laugh. With a blue face?

He clenched his teeth, took a stronger hold on my wrist, and yanked me back to the hearse.

What are you doing? I yelled, hoping someone would hear me. I just had to pick a desolate area to knock on the window and make him crash, didn’t I?

Doing what I should’ve done when you scared me.

When you wrecked the hearse?

Don’t remind me. He opened the glove compartment and pulled out handcuffs.

That’s kind of a kinky thing to have for carrying dead bodies. I looked down at him slapping the cuffs on my wrist. You know that’s not necessary, right? I’ll go peacefully. I promise.

Nope. He slapped the other cuff on himself, putting it on the wrong hand. We were now cuffed together, each with a bracelet on our left hands.

I stared down at both of our hands and shook my head. Let me guess. You failed handcuffing 101.

Smart aleck. You distracted me. Buddy searched in his right pocket with his right hand, then tried to reach his left pocket, but to no avail, spinning in circles. Can you help me out? I think the key is in my left pocket.

I let the smile cover my mouth slowly. Sure. I’d love to.

He grabbed my right hand with his free right hand. Wait. I don’t trust you.

I pulled my hand from his and moved closer to his blue lips, tracing them with my finger. I didn’t see any residue on my finger, so I knew I could pull out all the stops with this guy. But Buddy. I thought we had a thing.

Uh…no…thing.

I leaned closer, letting my breath whisper across his cobalt cheek. Are you sure?

No…I mean, yes.

I reached into his pocket while distracting him with my feminine wiles and removed his keys without him even knowing about it. I was good at slyly stealing things, having to perform it when I was a pickpocket at the circus while working for a former boyfriend’s act. I lowered my cuffed hand while covering Buddy’s sapphire lips with small kisses. Trying each of the keys in the lock on my handcuff, I finally hit pay dirt, slipped off the cuff and backed away. See ya, Buddy.

I ran for all I was worth, in the gravel on the side of the road. Just as I was ready to take off across some open desert field, I was tackled from behind and fell onto the dusty ground, the keys flying from my hand.

Buddy held me down with his knee on my back. Now I can take you in for resisting arrest.

I hate to point out the obvious, but you never said you were going to arrest me. So how could I be resisting arrest?

I felt his weight shift off me. Good point. Guess I need to rethink this. May I have my keys back now?

I rolled over to see him, rubbing my sore elbows. I don’t have them. They flew when you attacked me, which I might add is police brutality.

Flew? He looked back toward the hearse, ignoring my police brutality comment. Where?

I got to my feet and dusted myself off. I have no idea and it’s too tough to find them in the dark, even though it’s a full moon. Guess I’ll just be going now.

He grabbed my hand again and slapped around my wrist one more time—the left one again, so we were handcuffed wrong one more time. No, you don’t, he said. I’m supposed to take you in to be questioned. The black and white should be here any minute.

I wouldn’t hold my breath. The cops are always slow in this town.

Are you sure?

Yep.

As he dragged me back to the hearse, a cop’s car drove right up to us.

Buddy shot me a nasty smile. I guess you were wrong. Hey, what’s your name, anyway?

I put my finger to my lip. Let’s see. What name did I use for Giuseppe again? How about Dawn? Yeah. I think I like Dawn tonight.

No, what’s your real name?

I’m not telling you. I wrinkled my nose and glanced down over him. I hardly know you and you look kind of scary, being blue and all.

Two uniformed officers got out of the car and approached Buddy and me, leaving the car door open for light. As soon as they saw Buddy’s face, they both broke out in laughter. One was bald and the other was tall, dark, and handsome. If I needed to get away fast, the tall, dark, and handsome one would be my ally, and I intended to use everything I had to make sure he knew I was flirting.

What happened? the balding cop asked. Did you find the money from the bank heist? The man laughed again, doubled over, and gasped for breath.

Buddy didn’t look very happy. Guess so. He thrust me toward the men, pulling his left hand with me. I want her taken in for suspicion in that robbery. He shot me a knowing look.

But I didn’t do it. I know who did and it wasn’t me. I faced BaldGuy and Handsome. I’m a free-lance journalist and was doing an exposé on Giuseppe Pasquale when I stumbled into a whole room full of bags of money.

The men glanced toward each other before BaldGuy stared at me. His mouth shut and his eyes roamed down to my chest and my bra, hanging loose because it was too big. I was just glad he wasn’t in the fashion division of the police force.

Wait, he said. I know you. Aren’t you Aspen Dove, the journalist who can get a lead on any case? You’ve helped us many times before and we’ve been very grateful.

I shot a glance toward Buddy. That’s me.

Buddy looked confused, and turned toward the two officers. She said her name was Dawn.

I rolled my eyes. My undercover name.

BaldGuy shook his head slowly, staring at my hair. A blonde now, huh?

Yeah. I figured a hooker— I pulled my right hand to my mouth. Never mind.

Giuseppe fell for the hooker ploy? BaldGuy asked. You’re kidding. Both cops standing in front of me laughed. How did you get away?

I grinned, remembering the slip. Well, while Giuseppe was getting himself all ready for our romp, I kind of slipped out of the room, ran down the hall, and found this small room. I sort of found a wire in a fake flower on the credenza, picked the lock and walked in to see the room full of bags of money. I grabbed one, and walked into the hallway, where the maid had left a big laundry basket on wheels. I got in, folded myself up—

Folded? Handsome asked, staring at my cleavage.

I winked at him while thrusting my chest out slightly, remembering I might have to use him for a getaway. I used to be a contortionist in the circus. I had to learn how to pick pockets for another show. I also learned how to pick locks from another boyfriend who’s now in jail.

I shot Buddy a glance and he lowered his eyes. Men always trusted blondes. I needed to make a note of that for future reference.

I looked down at the cuffs. I seem to have left my good pick at home. Besides, someone doesn’t know how to cuff someone to themselves.

Handsome chuckled, reached out, and lifted both of our left hands. I see that. We need to review this, Buddy. Side-by-side makes it a lot easier.

Yeah, I know.

And he did it twice, I said, leaning closer to Handsome. I got away from him once already, but he threw me to the ground. Can I get him on police abuse? He didn’t even tell me I was arrested. Can you uncuff me?

Handsome addressed Buddy. Where are the cuff keys?

Buddy lifted his left hand and pointed to me while the cuff chain clinked. She lost them.

They flew when he attacked me, I said, with a nod.

Handsome sighed, glancing toward Buddy before returning to my face. We’ll get you out of the cuffs later.

BaldGuy pulled out a notepad and a pen, poised to write as he stared at me. So, you were in the laundry basket. What happened next?

I wasn’t there more than a minute when the laundry basket moved into the elevator in Giuseppe’s house to the laundry room on the first floor. When the maid wasn’t looking, I got out, grabbed the money, and ran outside. I scaled the wall in the front—

Let me guess, Buddy said. You did high wire work, too, while in the circus.

No, but I dated a high wire guy. He showed me a few things when we went rock climbing in Utah.

Buddy rolled his eyes, framed by his blue eyebrows. I should’ve guessed.

I thrust both hands on my hips, pulling Buddy’s handcuffed arm with me. Hey, I get a lot of information from all the men I date. You never know when it’ll come in handy.

Just go on, BaldGuy said. Ignore the rookie here.

Buddy lowered his eyes and I addressed the two other cops again. By the time I got to the road, Giuseppe’s men were running around looking for me. I saw this hearse on a side road, pulled out the dead midget guy—

Little person, Buddy said.

I shot him a dirty look, then turned back to the two real officers and crossed my arms while pulling on the handcuffs. I stuck the ‘little person’ on a bench, crawled into the hearse, found some paper in the front, and wrote a note for the dead guy. When no one was looking, I tucked the end of the paper into his front pocket, with the words hanging out of the top of the pocket so they’d see it. I hopped into the back of the hearse, pulled the back door shut, and crawled into the coffin with the creaky lid, waited a minute or two, and the hearse started to move.

Buddy shook his head in frustration, the blue blur from his skin almost as intimidating as hearing the rocks rattle in his head. I had to go to the bathroom, he said. I never thought anyone would be stupid enough to touch a hearse. I was working for Dewey.

That comment just ticked me off. I’m not stupid. I’m not the one who opened the bag containing the blue dye. My hands flew to my hips again, but from all three of their faces, they were ignoring me. It was the blonde hair, I bet.

Your lazy brother, Dewey. BaldGuy shook his head at Buddy before addressing me again. Why did you write the note?

I needed to plead more to get out of the cuffs, so I talked with my hands to get the psychological advantage. Thank you, Dr. Henry for teaching me that one on our one and only date.

Well, I said, meeting the eyes of each of the seasoned cops. I didn’t want Giuseppe to be lonely, so I wrote for someone to take him to Giuseppe’s house, because he was looking for a fun ‘live’ time. It’s all I could think of on short notice.

The real officers chuckled, but Buddy didn’t seem to get it. At least someone thought I was funny.

Do you think Giuseppe will recognize you? Handsome asked.

"Not once I go back to my real hair and eye color. I even used some things they use in movies to change