Page 127 of Precise Justice

“Hi, you must be Caitlin,” Maddy said to the younger woman who had waved to her.

“And you must be Maddy Rivers,” Caitlin answered.

They shook hands and Maddy slid onto the booth’s bench seat across from her.

“How’s the food?” Maddy asked.

“Mediocre, but it’s local so I come here a couple times a week. They’re struggling like most places around here.

“I own a small house a block or so from here. I’m trying to sell but so is just about everyone. Good luck finding a buyer.”

“That’s too bad,” Maddy said. “I think it will come back to the nice neighborhood it once was.”

“Even the cops don’t think so. What do you want to know about Phillip Friedman? That he was a sick pervert who paid well? I was lucky. He didn’t seem interested in straight, nontrans women.”

That statement broke the ice and got the interview rolling.

An hour later, it ended with Caitlin saying, “Everyone in the building knew what he was really like. He had a thing for trans girls. I know he even had after hours relations with at least three.

“No, I can’t give you their names,” Caitlin said when she sensed Maddy was going to ask. “I called them and asked for their permission. They’re all pretty embarrassed about it. They each emphatically said no.”

Caitlin left through the back door and Maddy the front. Outside she found four older teens circling around the Corvette. Being Maddy, she tried to walk right through them.

“Hey, Momma, this your ride?” one of them asked acting as if he expected Maddy to swoon over him.

“Yeah, genius, this is my car. Now move so I can leave.”

“Hey, bitch, why the attitude? Me and you could have a good time,” he said for the benefit of his ego and friends.

They were on the sidewalk toward the rear of the Corvette. Maddy had looped the strap of her purse over her head and around her neck. It was also open and her right hand was in it.

Maddy turned to walk away. Her would be suitor grabbed her left arm and tried pulling it.

“Hey, bitch. Don’t be turnin’ your back on…”

In less than two seconds, Maddy spun around and drove her left palm into his nose, cracking the cartilage and causing the blood to burst forth. She then spun around again pivoting on her left foot while driving her right foot into his chest.

He dropped on his back and hit his head on the sidewalk. Worse, when he landed, he found Maddy standing over him. She had a grim look on her face and a Lady Colt .45 in her right hand. The barrel of the gun pointed right at his forehead.

Without turning her head, Maddy said to the subdued foursome, “Attacking a white woman who has a carry license. I could pop all four of you morons and I wouldn’t even stand trial.”

Still looking down at their mouthy leader, Maddy asked, “How about it, genius, still think we could have a good time?”

Maddy took a step back and said, “Let this be a lesson to you. You never know what you’ll be getting into when you act like street punk assholes.”

At the same time, a plain, unmarked car pulled up and stopped alongside the Corvette. Two plain clothes detectives got out and walked behind the three terrified kids still standing, open mouthed at Maddy and their subdued bro.

“Is this woman picking on you guys?” one of the detectives asked.

“Maddy,” his partner said, “put the gun away, please.”

“Oh, yeah, Bob, sorry,” she said.

“You okay?” Bob asked.

“No, goddamnit, the bitch broke my nose,” the one still lying on the sidewalk said.

“I wasn’t talking to you, shithead. I was talking to her.”

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