Joe couldn’t stop thinking about the trial. Move on they told him. But how? Rob Glitz had murdered Stephie, and Glitz was free. Restless, Joe took a last sip of coffee as he stood. A tall, barrel-chested man, he filled the small lunchroom with his presence, and all eyes turned his way. Joe nodded to Sam and made his way back to the meat-processing floor.
“So the big guy leaves. Does that mean our break’s over?” Bob was new on the floor and still trying to figure out the rules.
Sam glanced at the clock. “No, we’ve got a few minutes yet.”
“He makes me nervous,” Bob said in a low voice.
“Don’t worry about Joe. He’s all right, just mad at the world right now.”
“Well, as long as he’s not mad at me. I need this job.”
“It’s not about you,” Sam said, revealing a trace of a smile. He paused for a minute and then leaned forward over the table. “Remember that hit and run with the jogger about six months ago?”
“The Bay Village guy that hit that girl.”
“Yeah, that girl was Joe’s kid.”
Bob sat back in his chair, pushing a hand through his hair. “Damn, I’ve got two kids of my own. That’s got to be tough.”
“Yeah.” Sam paused and looked toward the door. “Makes my blood boil just thinking about it.” Sam stood up. “Come on, let’s get back on the floor.”
* * *
Joe sat in his car near the pay phone, weren’t many of those around anymore. Joe didn’t want anyone to be able to trace his call. It was eight-fifteen, so there were only a few cars in the shopping center parking lot. Most of the stores didn’t open until nine. He wanted it quiet when he made the call.
Joe knew it was Glitz who hit Steph. The dents in the car and tire tracks were proof enough. Glitz had been coming home from another night out. The prosecutor said it was typical for him to hurry home before his wife came off her sleeping pills. What surprised Joe was that his wife covered up for him. Victoria’s pricey lawyers and alibi saved him. He hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “How could the woman be that stupid?” Victoria had taken the stand and said Rob spent the night at home and that he was a faithful husband. “Wrong, Victoria,” Joe mumbled. Women were Glitz’s weakness, and Joe planned to use that.
He made the call to Glitz, using a handkerchief to disguise his voice. The receptionist put him right through.
“I’ve got some pictures of you and a babe.”
“Who is this?” Glitz asked.
“Never mind. The newspaper says you’re the happily married man again. Well, looks like you’re with some other broad in the picture I got. Just taken too, I can prove it by the car’s license plate in the picture.”
Glitz sighed. “What do you want?”
“Five grand.” Just then a boy rode his bike up close to the phone booth, staring at Joe and his handkerchief. Joe pretended to wipe his nose and smiled. The kid took off, but the exchange distracted him for a minute. Did he just blow his cover? Talk without the handkerchief disguise? Joe could feel the rising panic.
“You still there?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m here,” Joe said.
“Okay, so where? Where do we make the exchange?”
Joe explained the details. Glitz was to park behind B&B Meat Processing, Building D at three in the morning and knock hard on the door marked “Employees Only.” They’d make the trade there.
* * *
At quarter to three, Joe, a B&B supervisor, halted the conveyor and reported it as a temporary malfunction. The few guys on third shift were glad for the break. The rendering machines below the floor weren’t shut off for temporary problems, so the whine of the machines made it difficult to hear. Joe waited in the hallway near the door. He had a picture to trade with Glitz, all right, but it would be a picture of the symbol for justice, the blindfolded woman holding a balance in one hand and a sword in the other. Justice would be served tonight.
Waiting, Joe began to think of his daughter again. He had so many good memories, but sometimes when he thought too much about the accident, when his thoughts turned to her dying all alone on the side of the road, it made him feel like he’d been sucker punched. They’d become so close, especially after Elizabeth’s death.
Poor kid losing her mother so young. Smart though, smart enough to get into medical school. I’m going to be an oncologist, she’d say, and save people from the Big C.
The pounding on the door brought Joe back to the present. Glitz was on time. Then Joe’s whole body began to tremble. Could he go through with it?
Glitz pounded on the door again.
Joe didn’t want Glitz to recognize him right away, so he dimmed the lights. It took a minute for Joe’s eyes to adjust to the darkness. He opened the door.
“You the one with the pictures?” Glitz asked.
The hallway was dark. Both men were in shadow. All Joe could see was the outline of Glitz. “Yeah, come in here.” Joe motioned for Glitz to enter the rendering room, a shade darker than the hallway with only security lights to see by.
“I’ve got a picture.” Joe steadied his shaking hand and produced the picture of Lady Justice. He had a gun tucked in his pocket and held onto it with his right hand.
Glitz didn’t take the picture. He brought a gun from his side and fired.
Joe was on high alert and reacted quickly with a side step. The bullet’s deafening ricochet echoed through the cinder-block room, muffled by the high-pitched whine of the conveyors. The bullet had grazed Joe’s left arm. The surprise and intense pain caused Joe to drop the gun when he clutched his injured arm.
Glitz roared in anger, “I’m sick of you blackmailing scum.” He lifted the gun to fire again.
Joe dove toward Glitz’s feet. Thrown off balance by the tackle, the gun flew out of Glitz’s hand before he smacked his head against the wall, triggering the cleansing switch and the blindingly bright light required for the work. Water rushed down the walls from the pipes at ceiling height. The deluge of water and light confused Glitz.
Joe was used to the system and not surprised by the high-powered lights and wall of water. He grabbed Glitz’s gun. The slaughter room was slick with water, the drain areas pink with Joe’s blood. Joe pointed the gun at Glitz’s chest.
From his crouched position in the corner of the room, Glitz raised his hands in defense. Then his eyes widened with the realization that this had nothing to do with blackmail or pictures.
“So you recognize me,” Joe said. “You murdered my daughter. You couldn’t look at me during the trial, could you?”
“Joe Campbell, that’s your name, right? It was an accident. She was running too close to the road. I didn’t see her when I came over the hill.”
With his finger ready on the trigger, Joe hesitated. “I ought to kill you.” he yelled to be heard over the machines and pulse of water. He wanted to kill him, wanted to make him pay for the pain he caused.
Glitz picked up on Joe’s indecision, “I didn’t mean to kill her. I swear it was an accident,” he said as he pushed himself up from the corner, heavy and awkward with wet clothes. He began taking small steps toward Joe.
Joe’s wet hair was plastered against his face and made it difficult for him to see. He pushed it out of the way with his uninjured arm, waving the gun with the movement. Glitz stopped unsure of Joe’s actions.
“She drowned in a few inches of water.” Joe said. “If you would’ve stopped, she’d still be alive.” Joe began to back up, disgusted with Glitz’s nearness, keeping the gun leveled at his chest.
Glitz resumed his steps toward Joe. “I couldn’t stop. My wife would divorce me. She has plenty of money. I can make this good.” Glitz continued taking steps toward Joe. “I can easily get my hands on ten grand.”
“Ten grand. Is that what you think my daughter’s life is worth? She was all I had!” Joe’s voice rose in anger.
Glitz’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the situation. “How about a hundred grand?”
Joe had backed up too far, only a few feet from the floor chute. The night crew had jimmied the interlock system, over-riding the safety system. The floor chute had opened along with the hosing switch, a safety violation, but the guys used it to speed up processing. A few more steps back and Joe would fall through the chute to the rendering machines used to pulverize the cattle’s bones and guts.
Glitz saw the sudden realization and fear in Joe’s face and lunged forward. Startled, Joe fired the gun into Glitz’s chest.
* * *
Glitz was dead. In a daze, Joe moved with the methodical purpose he usually devoted to his work. He flipped the switch to hose down the blood in the room, stripped the body, stuffed the clothes in a plastic bag, and sent Glitz through the floor chute. It would take about ten minutes for the body to be ground into pulp. He’d get the conveyor line running again and call the guys back. The bullet’s graze on his arm would be a good excuse to leave. He’d say it was cut during repairs, have Sam bandage it, and then he would head out.
* * *
A few days later, two police officers arrived at the parking lot of Building D just as Joe was finishing his shift. They asked Joe if they could have a word with him. Mrs. Glitz had filed a Missing Person’s Report. The older officer explained that they had a few questions for Joe because of past associations with Robert Glitz and the suit for wrongful death.
Joe kept a cool head the night Glitz died, and he wasn’t about to blow it now with these cops. After the rendering machine had pulverized Glitz, Joe spent the rest of that night getting rid of evidence. Joe figured that Glitz wouldn’t have told anyone about their meeting. Joe had walked out into the woods behind the plant and burned the clothes and wallet contents on the railroad tracks. By now four or five trains a day would have passed, scattering the ashes. Glitz had parked his Mercedes in a wooded area near the plant. Joe threw Glitz’s keys and empty wallet in the lake and rolled the car over the cliff. Fifty feet of Lake Erie took care of that problem.
“I understand there was a break on the production line early Tuesday morning,” the young officer said.
He nodded. “Yeah, yeah, nothing major. We had the line back by four or so.”
The young officer wrote in his notebook. After a minute, he looked up at Joe. “Then you went home?”
“Yeah, I wasn’t feeling too good.”
The older officer, a sergeant, flipped through his notes.
Joe’s mouth was dry. He took a hard swallow.
The officer glanced at Joe then back to his notes. “Time sheet shows that you clocked out at seven minutes after four. Did you leave right away?”
“No, I got stuck hanging around the toilet for a while. I wasn’t ready to drive home yet.”
“That explains the delay,” the younger officer said. He seemed relieved.
The older officer gave him a stern look. “Bob Furring said he saw your car out in the lot around five when he took his break. That’s a long time to hang around. Anybody see you here?”
“No, I don’t think so. I wasn’t in the mood for company”
The officer let a small smile slip as he closed his notebook. “I think that’s all we need.”
* * *
Sam had noticed a change in Joe over the last few days. He couldn’t say that Joe was happy. Joe might never get over Steph’s death, but he seemed content. He’d even seen Joe laugh yesterday when Bob told one of his stupid jokes.
It was quitting time, so Sam was leaving the plant as Joe was finishing up with the cops in the parking lot. He overheard part of their conversation when he paused on the stair landing to light a cigarette.
Joe nodded as he passed Sam on the landing. “Forgot my coat,” Joe explained as his reason for returning.
Sam took a long drag on his cigarette and watched as the cops got into their car. They must have gotten an important call because they left quickly. Their tires stirred up a lot of gravel and a four by six picture flew up in the whirl of dust. Sam descended the stairs and walked over to where the picture had wedged between two rocks. A wry smile played across his face as he looked at the photo. It was Joe’s picture of Lady Justice. Sam had seen it taped inside Joe’s locker.
Sam crushed the cigarette under his foot. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered. “He’s going to get away with murder.” Sam took out his lighter and burned the picture.