| General Fiction posted August 27, 2024 | Chapters: |
...14 15 -16- 17... 
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It's a whodunit for sure
A chapter in the book Spirited Justice
Spirited Justice Chap 16
by Begin Again
| Background "Beauty, Brawn, or Brains" was a global platform showcasing women's diverse talents, yet murders, accidents, and deceit haunted the pageant worldwide. Was there a common link or merely coincidence? |
Eleanor felt relieved to leave the confines of the prison behind her, but she was worried about Thomas. Donatelli had his hands full with Beckett's murder, and Angelo was with Naomi, so that left Garth, who wasn't in the mood to cooperate. That thought didn't settle well with her.
She needed a plan.
*****
Tango studied Eleanor's bulletin he'd found on his desk. A sideways glance told him Garth was on his way out. And the Stetson sitting low on his forehead was a sure sign that everyone better stay out of his way.
Poppa looked across his desk at his partner. "He's leaving. Maybe you can show it to him tomorrow."
Tango shook his head. "Eleanor was here yesterday and now this today. That tells me that tomorrow might be too late."
"He's a stubborn bull lately, Tango."
The FBI agent pushed his chair away from the desk and stood, turning to watch his boss head toward the exit. "Guess I take the bull by the horns. Wish me luck."
Poppa's eyes widened, but he only managed to say, "Are you sure —" before Tango hurried to catch his boss.
*****
"Wait up, Garth!"
The Cowboy stopped, his mouth in grumbling gear, as Tango approached. "This better be important. I'm sure you knew I was leaving."
"Yeah, I figured that, but I thought you might want to discuss what I have to say with Allie. The cemetery — that's where you were headed, right?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I was." He frowned at his agent. "What could you possibly have that might be worth a conversation between Allie and me?"
"A bulletin you received from Eleanor." Tango waited for the hammer to drop.
Garth glared at him. "If it was sent to me, why are you reading it?"
He hadn't snapped as badly as Tango had expected, so he felt better saying what he had to say. "One, because it was on my desk, and two, you haven't been reading much of anything lately."
Garth turned, muttering, "And I don't want to read anything now," as he headed for the door. Tango quickly stepped in front of him, struggling to remain composed under Garth's dark stare.
"Just give me a minute. That's all I ask, and then you can go."
"Eleanor told me about a case yesterday. I'm not interested. Donatelli can handle it." Tango didn't move; he just continued to return Garth's stare. Finally, Garth shrugged. "Considering you put your life on the line for that minute, it's yours."
"I'll cut to the chase, Garth. There's been a lot of trouble over the years, including deaths, accidents, and reports of pageant entries being assaulted. It's not just a beauty pageant. It's called Beauty, Brawn and Brains. Research papers were stolen." Tango paused, wanting to make sure Garth was listening. "Papers about a breakthrough in cancer."
"A breakthrough in cancer?" Garth grabbed the bulletin from Tango and read it himself. He handed it back and opened the door. "I'll be back in ten."
He stepped outside, leaving Tango frowning, unsure of what to do. Garth tipped his Stetson back, staring upward at the sky, and called to Tango, "Have the jet ready in an hour. We've got a case."
Tango smiled. His boss was back.
*****
Within minutes, Tango and Poppa had every available agent scouring the internet and official files for information about the pageant, including the murder of Lila Whitaker and her father, Thomas Whitaker.
Knowing Garth would want to start from the beginning, he had people track down Thomas's whereabouts and arrange for them to talk to him.
As the wheels of the jet left the tarmac, Garth was already studying the files.
"So, Tango, is our first stop at Donatelli's office, or did you have something else in mind?" Garth grinned, waiting for Tango's answer.
"You already know, don't you?" Tango laughed and shook his head. "That's the boss I'm accustomed to working with, always two steps ahead."
"It didn't hurt to check on our flight plan. It said we were headed to Joliet. I assume we are paying Thomas Whitaker a visit."
"And, of course, you are right. I've contacted the warden, and you can see him whenever we land."
"You've had longer to study these files, Tango. What's your take on this guy? Did he murder his daughter?"
"My gut says no, and I think Eleanor thought the same."
"Well, those are two people I would trust my life with, so let's see what Mr. Whitaker says. If he's innocent, someone pulled a lot of strings to get him locked up."
"It wouldn't be the first time."
"You've got that right." Garth tipped his chair backward and slid his Stetson over his face. "Didn't sleep too well last night. Wake me when we arrive."
*****
Two armed guards stood at the prison's entrance, their expressions stern and unwavering. Garth flashed his badge against the glass door, stepping back as it swung open.
One guard told him, "We're on lockdown, sir, but the Warden expects you. " Garth raised an eyebrow but didn't respond.
A female guard seated outside the Warden's office stood and motioned for Garth and his men to approach. As they closed the distance, Garth quickly assessed the woman.
Her uniform was pristine, a stark contrast to the chaotic situation that had led to the lockdown. Her eyes were cold, she stood rigid, and she pressed her lips into a thin line, suggesting she had seen more than her share of bad days. "No-nonsense" didn't even begin to describe her.
"No firearms allowed, sir. You and your men will have to surrender your guns. You can place them in the lock boxes," she directed, pointing to a row of steel cabinets.
Garth's dark eyes drilled into her, but he complied, nodding to Tango and Poppa to do the same. Once their weapons were secured, the guard turned and knocked on the door to the Warden's office, opening it without waiting for a response.
"Sir, the gentlemen from the Bureau are here," she announced, her voice clipped and professional.
The Warden, a man whose weary face bore deep stress lines, looked up. He had regained control of his prison, but the cost was evident in the slump of his shoulders and the deep lines on his brow. "Show them in," he replied, his voice heavy with fatigue.
Garth, flanked by his agents, wasted no time. His expression was grim, his tone sharper than usual. "I see you've had some problems," he began. "We won't get in your way. I need a few minutes with Whitaker, and then we'll be out of your hair."
The Warden's face paled slightly. "There's a problem with that."
Garth's impatience flared. "It's my understanding the Director cleared us to speak with your inmate. Why would there be a problem?"
The Warden cleared his throat, his eyes darting nervously. "There was a fight in the yard this morning. And another incident in the shower area. Thomas Whitaker was stabbed and beaten in the showers. He's alive, but barely — he's under medical care, and it's touch and go."
Garth's jaw tightened as he absorbed the news. "Suspects?" His voice was sharp, demanding answers.
"There was a power outage that knocked some cameras out," the Warden admitted. "We're still piecing together what happened."
Garth's eyes narrowed, his displeasure evident. He turned to Tango, his words clipped. "Get copies of the reports filed on both incidents."
Before Tango could respond, the female guard muttered, "Don't look at me. That's not my job."
Garth spun around, his eyes blazing with barely restrained anger. He took a step toward her, ready to confront her insubordination, but the Warden quickly intervened, "I'll get one of the secretaries to make copies for you," he said, hoping to defuse the tension.
Garth paused, his gaze still locked on the guard, before nodding curtly. "Good. Tango, get the folder from the secretary." He turned back to the guard, his voice firm. "And I'll want our guns back — now."
The guard's expression didn't change, but her eyes shifted to the Warden. She knew better than to push further, especially after Garth's pointed demand. With a slight nod from the Warden, she moved to unlock the gun boxes.
The Warden, attempting to regain some control, cleared his throat. "The reports are on their way."
Garth didn't bother responding, his focus already shifting to their next move. "Can we see him?"
The Warden, looking even more worn down, shook his head. "He's not here. He was transported to the ICU at the local hospital."
Garth nodded curtly, clearly displeased but already calculating their next steps. "Keep us updated," he said, leaving no room for argument.
Tango secured the reports while Poppa and Garth reclaimed their weapons. Garth shot one last hard look toward the guard, and then the three men marched out the prison doors.
*****
Jose cursed under his breath as he bumped his head against the doorframe of the rented car. His swollen eye throbbed, and every muscle ached from the brutal beating he'd endured the night before. He hadn't needed to see the men lurking in the shadows to understand their message — it was as clear as the bruises on his body: Get Beckett's papers now, or suffer the consequences.
He knew the risks, but he couldn't afford to walk away empty-handed. He was gambling everything, including his life, by breaking into Naomi's apartment for the second time. He had no idea if Donatelli had the place staked out, or even if Naomi was dead. Maybe the unknown person entering the apartment had saved her, but at this point, all he cared about was finding the research papers.
With the hood pulled tightly over his head, Jose hurriedly closed the gap between the parked car and Naomi's building, his heart pounding with the urgency of his mission. The lock yielded with a reluctant click, and he pushed the door open. He paused to ensure he was alone, then swiftly made his way through the living room, where an overturned chair served as a stark reminder of his last hasty departure. The door to the secret room stood ajar.
Beckett's room turned up nothing but frustration, and the living room was a wreck of discarded papers and overturned furniture. His frustration mounted as he made his way to the bedroom, where the sight of Naomi's blood-stained bed stopped him cold. The memory of that night flashed in his mind — her startled gasp, the quick slice of the blade, the way she had looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.
Rage bubbled up inside Jose, a hot, seething force that demanded release. With a furious roar, he grabbed the nearest lamp and hurled it across the room. The crash echoed in the stillness, sending a shockwave through the air. A picture frame on the wall shuddered, teetered, then fell with a sharp clatter, shattering glass across the floor. He stood there, his chest heaving, fists clenched, as the remnants of his anger pulsed through his veins.
Something caught his eye amidst the wreckage — a small, folded note taped to the back of the frame. Beside it, gleaming dully in the dim light, was a key. His breath hitched as he realized what it might be for — the safe deposit box — the one where the papers were likely hidden.
Pain shot through his body, a reminder of the brutal beating he'd endured. His ribs ached with each breath, and his vision blurred as he bent down to retrieve the key. As his fingers brushed the cold metal, a shard of glass sliced into his hand. He hissed, instinctively jerking back as blood welled up and splattered onto the floor, mingling with the broken glass.
Cursing under his breath, he clutched his wounded hand, his pulse throbbing. He staggered to the bathroom, each step sending fresh jolts of agony through his battered body. The faucet squeaked as he turned it on, and he shoved his hand under the cold stream, watching as the water ran red. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it tightly around the cut, the fabric quickly soaking through with blood.
He knew he needed to leave, to get out. But as he turned to go, his eyes were drawn back to the bloodstain on the floor — a stark reminder of the violence that had taken place — Naomi's blood.
Was she dead? The thought gnawed at him and twisted his insides. The room was eerily silent. No crime tape marking the scene. Had the police not discovered what had happened yet? Or had she managed to escape?
The uncertainty gnawed at him, but he couldn't afford to linger. Clutching the key tightly in his injured hand, he steeled himself. Whatever had happened was done, and now he needed to find the secrets locked away in that safe deposit box.
She needed a plan.
*****
Tango studied Eleanor's bulletin he'd found on his desk. A sideways glance told him Garth was on his way out. And the Stetson sitting low on his forehead was a sure sign that everyone better stay out of his way.
Poppa looked across his desk at his partner. "He's leaving. Maybe you can show it to him tomorrow."
Tango shook his head. "Eleanor was here yesterday and now this today. That tells me that tomorrow might be too late."
"He's a stubborn bull lately, Tango."
The FBI agent pushed his chair away from the desk and stood, turning to watch his boss head toward the exit. "Guess I take the bull by the horns. Wish me luck."
Poppa's eyes widened, but he only managed to say, "Are you sure —" before Tango hurried to catch his boss.
*****
"Wait up, Garth!"
The Cowboy stopped, his mouth in grumbling gear, as Tango approached. "This better be important. I'm sure you knew I was leaving."
"Yeah, I figured that, but I thought you might want to discuss what I have to say with Allie. The cemetery — that's where you were headed, right?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I was." He frowned at his agent. "What could you possibly have that might be worth a conversation between Allie and me?"
"A bulletin you received from Eleanor." Tango waited for the hammer to drop.
Garth glared at him. "If it was sent to me, why are you reading it?"
He hadn't snapped as badly as Tango had expected, so he felt better saying what he had to say. "One, because it was on my desk, and two, you haven't been reading much of anything lately."
Garth turned, muttering, "And I don't want to read anything now," as he headed for the door. Tango quickly stepped in front of him, struggling to remain composed under Garth's dark stare.
"Just give me a minute. That's all I ask, and then you can go."
"Eleanor told me about a case yesterday. I'm not interested. Donatelli can handle it." Tango didn't move; he just continued to return Garth's stare. Finally, Garth shrugged. "Considering you put your life on the line for that minute, it's yours."
"I'll cut to the chase, Garth. There's been a lot of trouble over the years, including deaths, accidents, and reports of pageant entries being assaulted. It's not just a beauty pageant. It's called Beauty, Brawn and Brains. Research papers were stolen." Tango paused, wanting to make sure Garth was listening. "Papers about a breakthrough in cancer."
"A breakthrough in cancer?" Garth grabbed the bulletin from Tango and read it himself. He handed it back and opened the door. "I'll be back in ten."
He stepped outside, leaving Tango frowning, unsure of what to do. Garth tipped his Stetson back, staring upward at the sky, and called to Tango, "Have the jet ready in an hour. We've got a case."
Tango smiled. His boss was back.
*****
Within minutes, Tango and Poppa had every available agent scouring the internet and official files for information about the pageant, including the murder of Lila Whitaker and her father, Thomas Whitaker.
Knowing Garth would want to start from the beginning, he had people track down Thomas's whereabouts and arrange for them to talk to him.
As the wheels of the jet left the tarmac, Garth was already studying the files.
"So, Tango, is our first stop at Donatelli's office, or did you have something else in mind?" Garth grinned, waiting for Tango's answer.
"You already know, don't you?" Tango laughed and shook his head. "That's the boss I'm accustomed to working with, always two steps ahead."
"It didn't hurt to check on our flight plan. It said we were headed to Joliet. I assume we are paying Thomas Whitaker a visit."
"And, of course, you are right. I've contacted the warden, and you can see him whenever we land."
"You've had longer to study these files, Tango. What's your take on this guy? Did he murder his daughter?"
"My gut says no, and I think Eleanor thought the same."
"Well, those are two people I would trust my life with, so let's see what Mr. Whitaker says. If he's innocent, someone pulled a lot of strings to get him locked up."
"It wouldn't be the first time."
"You've got that right." Garth tipped his chair backward and slid his Stetson over his face. "Didn't sleep too well last night. Wake me when we arrive."
*****
Two armed guards stood at the prison's entrance, their expressions stern and unwavering. Garth flashed his badge against the glass door, stepping back as it swung open.
One guard told him, "We're on lockdown, sir, but the Warden expects you. " Garth raised an eyebrow but didn't respond.
A female guard seated outside the Warden's office stood and motioned for Garth and his men to approach. As they closed the distance, Garth quickly assessed the woman.
Her uniform was pristine, a stark contrast to the chaotic situation that had led to the lockdown. Her eyes were cold, she stood rigid, and she pressed her lips into a thin line, suggesting she had seen more than her share of bad days. "No-nonsense" didn't even begin to describe her.
"No firearms allowed, sir. You and your men will have to surrender your guns. You can place them in the lock boxes," she directed, pointing to a row of steel cabinets.
Garth's dark eyes drilled into her, but he complied, nodding to Tango and Poppa to do the same. Once their weapons were secured, the guard turned and knocked on the door to the Warden's office, opening it without waiting for a response.
"Sir, the gentlemen from the Bureau are here," she announced, her voice clipped and professional.
The Warden, a man whose weary face bore deep stress lines, looked up. He had regained control of his prison, but the cost was evident in the slump of his shoulders and the deep lines on his brow. "Show them in," he replied, his voice heavy with fatigue.
Garth, flanked by his agents, wasted no time. His expression was grim, his tone sharper than usual. "I see you've had some problems," he began. "We won't get in your way. I need a few minutes with Whitaker, and then we'll be out of your hair."
The Warden's face paled slightly. "There's a problem with that."
Garth's impatience flared. "It's my understanding the Director cleared us to speak with your inmate. Why would there be a problem?"
The Warden cleared his throat, his eyes darting nervously. "There was a fight in the yard this morning. And another incident in the shower area. Thomas Whitaker was stabbed and beaten in the showers. He's alive, but barely — he's under medical care, and it's touch and go."
Garth's jaw tightened as he absorbed the news. "Suspects?" His voice was sharp, demanding answers.
"There was a power outage that knocked some cameras out," the Warden admitted. "We're still piecing together what happened."
Garth's eyes narrowed, his displeasure evident. He turned to Tango, his words clipped. "Get copies of the reports filed on both incidents."
Before Tango could respond, the female guard muttered, "Don't look at me. That's not my job."
Garth spun around, his eyes blazing with barely restrained anger. He took a step toward her, ready to confront her insubordination, but the Warden quickly intervened, "I'll get one of the secretaries to make copies for you," he said, hoping to defuse the tension.
Garth paused, his gaze still locked on the guard, before nodding curtly. "Good. Tango, get the folder from the secretary." He turned back to the guard, his voice firm. "And I'll want our guns back — now."
The guard's expression didn't change, but her eyes shifted to the Warden. She knew better than to push further, especially after Garth's pointed demand. With a slight nod from the Warden, she moved to unlock the gun boxes.
The Warden, attempting to regain some control, cleared his throat. "The reports are on their way."
Garth didn't bother responding, his focus already shifting to their next move. "Can we see him?"
The Warden, looking even more worn down, shook his head. "He's not here. He was transported to the ICU at the local hospital."
Garth nodded curtly, clearly displeased but already calculating their next steps. "Keep us updated," he said, leaving no room for argument.
Tango secured the reports while Poppa and Garth reclaimed their weapons. Garth shot one last hard look toward the guard, and then the three men marched out the prison doors.
*****
Jose cursed under his breath as he bumped his head against the doorframe of the rented car. His swollen eye throbbed, and every muscle ached from the brutal beating he'd endured the night before. He hadn't needed to see the men lurking in the shadows to understand their message — it was as clear as the bruises on his body: Get Beckett's papers now, or suffer the consequences.
He knew the risks, but he couldn't afford to walk away empty-handed. He was gambling everything, including his life, by breaking into Naomi's apartment for the second time. He had no idea if Donatelli had the place staked out, or even if Naomi was dead. Maybe the unknown person entering the apartment had saved her, but at this point, all he cared about was finding the research papers.
With the hood pulled tightly over his head, Jose hurriedly closed the gap between the parked car and Naomi's building, his heart pounding with the urgency of his mission. The lock yielded with a reluctant click, and he pushed the door open. He paused to ensure he was alone, then swiftly made his way through the living room, where an overturned chair served as a stark reminder of his last hasty departure. The door to the secret room stood ajar.
Beckett's room turned up nothing but frustration, and the living room was a wreck of discarded papers and overturned furniture. His frustration mounted as he made his way to the bedroom, where the sight of Naomi's blood-stained bed stopped him cold. The memory of that night flashed in his mind — her startled gasp, the quick slice of the blade, the way she had looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.
Rage bubbled up inside Jose, a hot, seething force that demanded release. With a furious roar, he grabbed the nearest lamp and hurled it across the room. The crash echoed in the stillness, sending a shockwave through the air. A picture frame on the wall shuddered, teetered, then fell with a sharp clatter, shattering glass across the floor. He stood there, his chest heaving, fists clenched, as the remnants of his anger pulsed through his veins.
Something caught his eye amidst the wreckage — a small, folded note taped to the back of the frame. Beside it, gleaming dully in the dim light, was a key. His breath hitched as he realized what it might be for — the safe deposit box — the one where the papers were likely hidden.
Pain shot through his body, a reminder of the brutal beating he'd endured. His ribs ached with each breath, and his vision blurred as he bent down to retrieve the key. As his fingers brushed the cold metal, a shard of glass sliced into his hand. He hissed, instinctively jerking back as blood welled up and splattered onto the floor, mingling with the broken glass.
Cursing under his breath, he clutched his wounded hand, his pulse throbbing. He staggered to the bathroom, each step sending fresh jolts of agony through his battered body. The faucet squeaked as he turned it on, and he shoved his hand under the cold stream, watching as the water ran red. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it tightly around the cut, the fabric quickly soaking through with blood.
He knew he needed to leave, to get out. But as he turned to go, his eyes were drawn back to the bloodstain on the floor — a stark reminder of the violence that had taken place — Naomi's blood.
Was she dead? The thought gnawed at him and twisted his insides. The room was eerily silent. No crime tape marking the scene. Had the police not discovered what had happened yet? Or had she managed to escape?
The uncertainty gnawed at him, but he couldn't afford to linger. Clutching the key tightly in his injured hand, he steeled himself. Whatever had happened was done, and now he needed to find the secrets locked away in that safe deposit box.
 Recognized |
Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Dylan - Eleanor's nephew and art curator
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Thomas Whitaker - Lila's father
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent
Tango and Poppa - FBI agents under Garth
Allie - his love who died of cancer (an investigative reporter)
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Dylan - Eleanor's nephew and art curator
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Thomas Whitaker - Lila's father
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent
Tango and Poppa - FBI agents under Garth
Allie - his love who died of cancer (an investigative reporter)
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