NO HARM DONE

by Daniel B. Young

Bailey "Buck" Johnson walked calmly across his current campus, away from his latest peccadillo. He loved that word. A slight offense is how he thought of it. A necessary and intense release for him and a little humility and education for her. No harm done. It was the natural order of things. He was the predator, they were the prey, and universities were the hunting grounds. She had gone into the bushes with him willingly. She wanted it, they all did. With his moviestar looks, cultivated charm, and physical endowment she would have done it anyway, eventually.

That's how it had started for him. Put in the time, money, whispered words, a peek at Johnson's "Johnson"(they always laughed) and they would do anything for him on their own.

It was easy. Too easy. No kick anymore, no rush. That became the key. Rush it a little, get a little resistance. That brought back the intensity. Oh, they would sulk a little, but with the right handling they would be all the more willing the next time. That was the problem. The more willing they were, the less there was in it for him. Anything but one-night stands became a waste of time. Inevitably there were complaints and attempts at filing charges. Stupid bitches kept forgetting he was enrolled in pre-law. He made sure he was always covered, like today.

Yeah, today. Today was the best ever, the first time with a total stranger, first time in public. She had willingly joined in his frantic search for his dear, dead mother's wedding ring, dropped while jogging. She had followed him into the bushes where he was sure he had spotted a glint of gold. It might have bounced there. Yeah, right, what did she expect? God what a rush, and only foreplay. Still, choking and sobbing at the same time...it was going to be hard to top that. His whole body was still humming.

Buck kept walking when he heard the siren being tapped, even when he heard running steps behind him. He didn't acknowledge any of it until the campus policeman grabbed his shoulder and arm.

"Hey. Didn't you hear the siren?" the red-faced cop snarled as he led Buck face first toward the nearest wall.

"Yes sir. I didn't have any reason to think it was for me."

"We'll see about that." Sergeant Edward Bill patted him down, cuffed the hands Buck had already placed behind him and turned toward the squad car. Rookie patrolwoman Nancy Ferns was helping a whimpering young woman out of the squad.

"It was him!" the woman shouted, pointing and sobbing."

"Me! Me what? What did I do?"

"This young lady says you sexually assaulted her on the jogging path behind Wilson Hall," Sergeant Bill said.

"Lady, my ass..."

Edward tightened his grip painfully on Buck's arm.

"Look officer, this is some kind of scam. This... lady solicited me. She asked for twenty bucks, said she liked it rough."

"You lying bastard!" the victim said, trying to claw and kick at Buck. Nancy was holding her in a bear hug from behind to restrain her without harm.

Edward turned Buck so they were face to face and gave him the police-patented ice-cold stare. "Do you think that story is gonna fly?"

"Honest sir. She put the twenty-dollar bill in her bra. Take a look."

"Rookie?" Edward said, nodding at Nancy .

Nancy turned the victim away from the others and reached into her bra and withdrew a twenty-dollar bill.

"Affirmative, Sergeant," Nancy said turning back around.

The victim, Sharon Thomas, stood limp, shocked. "I don't know...he must have...I didn't..." She lapsed into silence.

"I don't know that you gave her that. It could be hers and you just saw it there." Edward said, not relinquishing his grip on Buck.

Buck fought not to smirk, now's not the time. "I can give you the serial number of the bill, it's written down in my wallet. Just look!"

"You just happened to write down the serial number of this twenty dollar bill?"

"I'm a law student. I keep the serial numbers of all my cash in case of theft or fraud."

Edward retrieved Buck's wallet from his back pocket. There was some cash and a list of denominations and serial numbers. The top one was circled. "$20.00 - BK89388906 with "head" written in pencil next to it. It matched the bill he had gotten from Nancy . The other numbers matched the other bills.

"I think this stinks," Edward said. "We're all going to the city detectives to sort it out."

"Whatever you want officer." Buck said, knowing that the Sergeant wanted more than anything for him to resist. He could understand that.

"Watch your head honey," Nancy said while assisting Sharon 's placid form into the back seat of the squad.

Sharon began to protest. "I can't stay in here with him...I can't."

"It's okay honey." Nancy said. "He'll ride in a different car. You'll see. Everything will be alright."

* * *

I considered the two men sitting across from me in my office. The older one ("Call me George") was in his fifties, expensively dressed, expensively groomed, and expensively accessorized. There had been fire in his eyes once, but now it was all ice and calm. Far more disturbing than the other. The other was his clone, twenty-five years younger, except for the fire. It was still in his eyes, his voice, his posture. His whole being radiated fury.

"George, how is your daughter doing now?" I said.

"Doing! Sharon isn't doing anything, you..." the younger man said.

"Now, John," George said evenly, putting his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "We've come to ask this man to help us. Let's not antagonize him before we find out if he's able to."

George's qualification on antagonizing was not lost on me. Like I said, more disturbing, more dangerous.

"Mr. Williams," George said. " Sharon was devastated when charges were not pressed against this person, Bailey Johnson. Even so, she might have weathered that if not for that benighted ass, assistant prosecutor Delmar Caswell. After a cursory reading of the police report, he got a rubber stamped arrest warrant issued for solicitation against Sharon .

"The bastards arrested her in class, announcing the charges in front of her professor and classmates. She was handcuffed, fingerprinted, and put in a holding cell with prostitutes for six hours before we were notified. She wouldn't return to college, even though everything was dismissed at the court hearing. After another month she refused to go to her therapy sessions, or leave the house for any reason. She eventually became hysterical even at the mention of going out. For the last two months though, she hasn't minded being moved, because she never leaves her mind. She's in a private clinic, slowly slipping into a catatonic state.

"You can understand that John is enraged. I don't know which assault was more damaging, the sexual or the legal. Right now I'm concerned with Mr. Johnson. Can you help us?"

"I assure you I appreciate the tragedy of the events and I'm offended by the injustices that have occurred. As for Delmar Caswell, since he was appointed only as payment of a political debt, it's a scandal that he doesn't have the sense to stay away from a job he doesn't have to show up for. That said, just what, exactly, would you have me do?"

They told me. George spoke briefly and succinctly. John went on rather a bit, descending into a rant just shy of drooling, when daddy put his hand on his shoulder instantly cutting him off. Dr. Pavlov would have been proud. It reassured me that daddy could keep him in hand if necessary.

"Gentlemen. It appears that you have been misinformed about my services. People often misjudge me. If I could do the things just suggested, in cold blood, for money, I could have more lucrative employment in one of the older criminal fraternities."

"I knew it! I knew it!" John again. "They were just blowing us off. Your reputation....Bullshit! You can..."

George with the hand again.

"Thank you, George. To continue, if our further discussions do not involve the death of Bailey Johnson, quick, lingering or otherwise, I may have a counter proposal. First, I need the answers to some questions. This proposal will include the understanding that if you accept I will overcharge you egregiously, so I may later assist someone not as financially enabled as you."

"We're listening." George said.

I asked my questions. I made my proposal. George accepted. John smiled.

* * *

Margaret Ann Squalls ate her lunch on a bench in the center of the campus common. There was no cover for three hundred feet in any direction. Constant foot traffic flowed up and down the criss-crossed paths. Her hair was worn in a bun. She wore large black-rimmed glasses, no makeup, sweater two sizes too large, a flowing ankle-length skirt, and Nike running shoes. Every twenty seconds she looked up from her lunch and scanned the grounds. I timed her.

My police contact was also frustrated that Bailey Johnson had moved from the area. Once again Lakeside County was playing cover-up for Delmar Caswell's idiocy. Since there were no charges, no warrant could be issued for the university's confidential files to find out were he had transferred to. My contact was happy to give me a copy of the file of complaints lodged against Bailey, with the usual admonishments.

I walked directly to her bench and sat down five feet away from her on her left. I looked at her.

"Margaret Ann Squalls?"

She looked directly back, chin up. "Yes. I don't know you."

It was not a question. Her right hand had casually slipped into her plain black purse, the strap on her shoulder.

"I'm a private investigator, Margaret," I said, tossing her my I.D.

She looked, tossed it back. I clasped it with both hands and kept them in my lap where she could see. I wasn't sure what she was holding in her purse and I didn't want to be.

"Yes, you are. I still don't know you."

"I've been hired to find Bailey Johnson. My clients would like to talk to him."

"Talk to him?"

"Forcefully."

"Oh...why talk to me then?"

"You work as an assistant in the university records department. I thought we might have a mutual interest in his whereabouts."

"Forcefully?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean by this." She stood to go, then turned to me. "I have lunch here every day at this time. If I'm not here tomorrow, don't ever come back. Please leave now.”

I walked away from her. Her hand never left the inside of her purse while I was in sight. I know. I looked back.

When she saw me coming the next day she laid something down on the bench got up and left. When I got there I picked up the manila envelope and went back to my car to read the contents. I now knew where Bailey Johnson had gone and how he was able to move from place to place so freely.

Bless you Margaret. I was going to add you to my prayer list anyway, but bless you for this. I hope this helps you too.

* * *

Patty Ryan was using a rusted hoist to lift a '68 Chevy Corvette engine onto a concrete block. Even covered in grease and wearing an ancient cap and coveralls, she was still 5'11" of gorgeous red-haired woman. We had grown up together. We had raided junkyards (her interest), fought bullies together, and even lost our virginity together. We had both thought we were the love of each other's life. However, after several more frustrating and confusing attempts at sex, she came to the revelation that she only played well on the all-girls team. Which, I later learned, she already had, but had been unsure of because of her feelings for me.

After a period of adjustment we retained a personal friendship akin to siblings. Over the years we had also developed a professional relationship. She had proven herself (as I had known she would) a smart, effective, and self-sufficient operative. Nothing could replace her love of the auto repair shop she owned and operated, but she had often worked cases with me. If the job suited her and the money was right.

"Hey, Dan. You finally decided to get a decent body for that fine engine I rebuilt for you?"

"No Patty. If I were to get a chassis to match that engine I'd have to triple my insurance and spend all my time watching it. With the body it has I don't have to worry about thieves."

"What can I do for you then? Is this a friendly visit or is there something you want from me?"

"Want? Me? No, I have something for you. An all expenses paid trip to Florida ."

"Miami ?"

"Close."

"What do I have to do and how much does it pay?"

"Patty, you're gonna love this."

* * *

Buck loved Florida . Bikinis everywhere. He couldn't wait for spring break. That was going to be like raw meat for a tiger. He'd been sticking to one-night stands. Co-eds were still the easiest. Nourishing, but just barely. He was ready for some real excitement. Not in public yet, because he hadn't found just the right spot. Not to worry. If things didn't work out he could just up and move once more. That's the only thing his prissy, nagging parents ever did right for him. His whole life, always going on about "Do the right thing", "Play nice", "Wait your turn", Consider the feelings of others", "Give it back, it's not yours" and "Stop tormenting those cats". Never about what he felt or wanted. Convenient, them dying in that crash together, leaving him all that insurance money. Couldn't have worked out better if he had planned it. If he had thought of it, he would have planned it.

He had decided on that redhead who had moved into his apartment building last week. She was his type. He could swear she was teasing him on purpose, then wouldn't give him a smile or the time of day. That was okay, he could take what he wanted. He had snatched up her stinking cat yesterday, and returning it would get him in the door.

That's all he needed. He had his cash and list ready.

He was right. She opened the door with a smile and took the thing right into the kitchen, away from the door, Buck following. She squatted down to feed it, wearing that tissue thin tank top, mini-shorts, and high-topped leather boots on those long, long legs. He had to make his move now. He opened his fly, freeing his erection. He grabbed her by her ears and twisted her head around.

"Come on baby. You know what to do.”

Damn long hair. All over the place. Making it hard tosee her face while she struggled. At least she had a grip on the end of it.

"Hey, that's it baby. But lighten up on that grip and move it to the other end."

"I can't," she said in a whimper.

"Yes, you can baby and you will, or I'll rip your ears off."

"No. I can't." Her voice was matter-of-fact now. "I'll cut myself."

"Cut your..."

Patty yanked her head back and out of his loosened grip. Now he could see the razor-edged, six-inch blade of the boot knife hovering a quarter inch from the base of what she was gripping.

"Hey! Baby, this is a mistake..."

"Yes it is. Yours. And Buck. Don't..Call..Me..Baby!"

* * *

Patty had him pretty well softened up and hog-tied by the time I left his room and entered Patty's. He thought I was his savior, until I showed him the 2" barrel of the Charter Arms, .44 Bulldog revolver under the T-shirt draped over my hand. We untied, zipped up, and escorted Buck outside and into the back seat of the car that had been rented in his name. Patty waited on the sidewalk. Buck flinched when John gave him the injection, then began to rapidly lose consciousness.

"Okay, gentlemen," I said. "I will complete the contract. Gentlemen, this is Bailey Johnson. Bailey, this is George and John Thomas. Are you satisfied with the introduction?"

George reached back from the front seat and handed me a bulging business-sized envelope. Buck was no longer able to respond.

"Mr. Williams," George said. "Would you be available, in the future, to discuss Mr. Caswell?"

"It would be my pleasure, but remember, if Bailey here turns up dead, I'll go to the police. Stick with the plan."

"You can go now," George said.

I left.

I gave Patty her share back in her apartment.

"Not that I would have forgiven you if I hadn't been included.."Patty said, "...but why did you need me? You could have handled him by yourself."

"I needed to know he was guilty before I turned him over. Once I saw that you had him well in hand..."

"Very funny."

"...I was able to start phase two of the plan in his room."

"Which was..?"

"We can't change Buck's predatory nature so the plan is to pull his fangs and claws metaphorically. According to the records on the computer in his room, Buck has had an attack of remorse. It appears that he transferred all but ten thousand dollars of his money through several obscure banking agencies and then made a very generous, anonymous donation to the National Rape Crisis Alliance. Now that he'll need employment he'll have less time for stalking. By the way, we're taking his hard drive and disks with us, you think they could find their way into a car crusher?"

"Done. So you've pulled his fangs and they'll pull his claws? Seems like it would be justice if they just killed him outright."

" Sharon isn't dead, and then he wouldn't learn anything."

"Well then, what's phase three for justice? "

"Justice failed on this one. Phase three is retribution"

* * *

Carri Stiles finished scrubbing her hands and rushed to the parking lot. She really needed a cigarette. She reached the allowed smoking area and fumbled for a Virginia Slim 100s. Her brain was racing. What HAD she just seen. It was only her third observation of a surgical procedure since she had started working as an RN for the Thomas Clinic last month. She had just completed nurses' training, what did she know? Still, it had all seemed somehow wrong .

Chief Surgical Nurse Helen Walker was coming toward her now. Carri worried that she may have blown her evaluation, Helen wasn't referred to as "The Dragon Lady" for nothing.

"Your first emergency surgery?" Helen said.

"Yes."

"Well, count your blessings you were accepted here instead of spending years in an emergency room first."

"I'm very grateful to be working here and training with you. You're considered one of best."

"Best what? Dragon?"

Carri unsuccessfully fought back a smile.

"Don't worry," Helen said. "I actually encourage the title. Makes it easier when I have to be tough on trainees. You, however, are doing quite well. I see a great future for you as a surgical nurse. What did you think of the surgery just now?"

"Well...I ..uh." Carri hesitated.

"Come now. Your ability to evaluate is as important to your training as mine is. Consider this a pop quiz .....and honesty counts."

"Dr. John did his usual masterful suturing on the patient's face," Carri said. "The scaring should be unnoticeable. It's just that the patient seemed to have been so strikingly handsome and the alterations will leave him so plain looking."

"Go on," Helen said, keeping a steady watch on Carri's eyes.

"The vertical gash on the patient's penis was deep and long but it seemed such a waste to remove the entire length of tissue that was damaged and reattach the remainder, rather than deep suturing the wound. Not that I'm questioning Dr George's judgment. It was just creepy, like someone surgically altering my D-cup breasts into A-cups."

"Aside from creepy, do you have any reason to think anything untoward was happening?"

"Well..uh."

"Remember, honesty counts."

"The patient's name was the same as the man I had heard was accused of violating Sharon Thomas. It just seems.....convenient that he would crash his car just down the road and the Doctors Thomas would be the ones to find him and operate on him in such a manner."

"I see. Had you considered that the patient might have been stalking Sharon Thomas? Perhaps he was under the influence of some intoxicant when he crashed. That is easily checked. He was lucky George and John found him and were able to attend to his injuries so quickly, don't you think? You are aware of how easily total castration, brain damage, gross facial disfigurement, or even death could have been induced had the doctors been so inclined?"

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Carri said. "It explains how Mr. Johnson would have come to be here. It certainly speaks highly for the doctor's character," Carri said brightly, though avoiding eye contact with Helen.

"Is there something else?"

"Just..... the other nurse who was observing seemed out of place. I didn't recognize her. She was staring so intently it was disturbing, and I could swear she was smiling under her mask."

"You needn't concern yourself with her. Perhaps there is one more thing you should know before you sum up your evaluation. You know that I'm divorced?"

"I had heard," Carry said, puzzled.

"My married name was Thomas."

"Oh........give me a minute to gather my thoughts?"

"Certainly."

Carri thought her way through the last six puffs and forty millimeters of her cigarette. Under Helen's unblinking gaze, she reached a decision.

"I can sum up my evaluation like this," Carri said. "After considering all the factors involved, my novice opinion is the surgery was urgently required and professionally executed. So, no harm done."