When he got upstairs, Pena knocked twice on the door to room 901. Carr opened it. A body bag was at the foot of the bed. Two empty H-Pack backpacks were positioned against the credenza.
Carr closed the door. First the two men clicked elbows. Then they embraced. “Where are the loaded backpacks?” Pena asked.
“I carried them down the corridor,” Carr replied. “One of those packs is set to explode mid-morning. It’ll do a lot of damage to the building but no one’ll get hurt.”
“Okay,” Pena said. He kicked the body bag. “Did he give you any trouble?” he asked.
“No trouble. Just a whole lot of satisfaction.” Carr looked at Pena. “Let’s fill the two backpacks with books. Go downstairs and grab the other box. I’ll handle this one.”
Pena went back to the car and returned with a second box of books. After both backpacks were filled with books, Carr crushed the cardboard boxes with his boot and placed them in the other wing of the hotel.
Next, Carr and Pena took the freight elevator to the ground floor and walked outside. Carr moved Landry’s car from the alley and Pena backed his car up to the dumpster. Then they returned to room 901 and carried the body bag down the hall and positioned it precariously at the mouth of a construction chute that went from a window on the ninth floor to the dumpster in the alley. Carr went downstairs, popped the trunk of Pena’s car, and stood next to the dumpster. Pena dropped the body bag down the chute. After it fell into the dumpster, Carr retrieved it and threw it into the trunk.
Pena went back downstairs. He kicked the wad of paper out of the corner of the freight elevator door and got into his car. A few blocks from the hotel, he stopped. Ari Hammond got into the car. They didn’t speak to one another. Pena drove to the Whitehurst Parkway and across the Key Bridge.
Carr took Landry’s car. He wore his mask, a way to disguise his identity in case anyone saw him. He drove down 17th Street to the Tidal Basin and across the 14th Street Bridge. Both cars arrived at Roaches Run at about the same time. The place was deserted.
After Pena parked, he and Hammond carried the body bag to the van. They unzipped it, removed Landry’s naked body, and dressed him in the clothes he’d worn to the hotel.
“It looks like you forgot a sock,” Pena said.
Carr looked around. “Looks to be the case.”
“Are you going to go back and get it?”
“No way. The surveillance cameras are operating by now. Plus, no one is going to notice a missing sock. He’s going to be blown to shit tomorrow afternoon.”
Pena looked at Hammond, who nodded in agreement.
“This is all going to be dust and debris,” Hammond said. “I got the power,” he sang, mimicking the 1990 hit tune by Snap.
They left the body on the floor of the van, minus one sock.
Carr handed Landry’s cell phone to Hammond, who slipped it into his pocket.
**
Once Hammond learned her name, he addressed her as S. Stone. That was a mistake. It suggested he did not know her name. He wondered if anyone would recognize his error. He stared at the tablet. She wanted him to surrender. No chance of that happening. He punched the keyboard:
Like I said, I have no such intention.
He looked across the parkway to Roaches Run. Where had Katz run off to? He had to laugh. Katz was a pretty good judge of character. At dinner last night, Katz had correctly identified Hammond as a fraud, of sorts. Except Katz hadn’t really put two and two together and figured it all out.
If he had, Katz would have realized that Hammond created his alter ego to acquire a degree of anonymity. He needed to distance himself from being Ruth Hammond’s twin brother. By doing so, he would be less likely to become a suspect if it ever came to that. Not that he expected it to. It was only a matter of time before Landry engineered a plot against Ruth again, having failed to kill her the first time around.
When Landry contacted Hammond about a foolhardy plot involving H-Pack backpacks, Hammond deduced there was an ulterior motive. Thanks to Roscoe Page’s hacking of Landry’s account, Hammond discovered efforts were also underway to enlist Ahmed Suleiman and Maria Pena. It took Hammond a while to figure out Landry’s sinister plan, but he finally got it, namely to destroy Fernando Pena, Trey Carr, and Ruth Hammond by annihilating the person they loved the most: a daughter, a son, and a brother.
Another text from Stone. Hammond looked at how far away the police and emergency response crews were standing. He didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Time for another warning.
Get back or like I said, or I’ll blow this tin can.
Another text from Stone. This was dragging on too long. Time to end it.
You have 2 minutes to clear the field. Then I’m gonna blow.
**
It was two in the morning. Pena had dropped off Hammond at Ruth’s place, then driven to Gravelly Point. Dressed in dark clothes, Pena walked along the bike path and crossed the deserted parkway at the far edge of Roaches Run.
He walked cautiously in the shadows toward the parking area. To his surprise, no one was patrolling the area around the burned-out hulk of the van. He removed the phone that he had thrown on the pavement numerous times and flung it over the yellow tape into the middle of the “crime scene.” It crashed on the pavement, but the sound went unnoticed as he slipped away.
Chapter Fourteen: After Midnight
THE BOTTLE was empty.
“I actually saw Hammond,” Katz said. “I was up at Green Point by the aquatic center.”
“When you left Roaches Run?”
“Yup. The text you received mentioned a crowd gathering at the side of the van. I thought it was odd because Landry wouldn’t have been able to see that from the inside.”
“So what did you see?”
“Someone at Gravelly Point with binoculars. He wore a hoodie. I couldn’t see his face. At the time, I assumed it was Landry.”
“Landry?”
“I thought he had placed someone else’s body in the van to stage his own death. I spoke with Rodney Brown to be sure it was Landry.”
Stone laughed. “You’re kidding.”
“No.” Katz laughed as well.
“So, it was Hammond?”
“Had to be. He was there texting you. After the area was cleared, he detonated the bomb. Then, sometime later, he returned to Roaches Run and dropped the phone, making it appear as though it had been there all the time. It pisses me off that I didn’t recognize it was him. I mean, I’d met him just the other night.”
Stone got up. “Let me see if there’s more booze,” she said.
“I think we should call it a night,” Katz said.
Stone did an about-face and returned to the counter. She held out her hand. “What’s said here stays here,” she said. “Deal?”
“Deal.” They shook.
**
THE online producer finished editing the tape for Tuesday night’s show. He sat down and ran the tape to make sure there were no glitches.
Thomas Mann: “Good evening. I’m Thomas Mann and this is Mann-Up Newsmaker Tuesday Night. Our guest this evening is Henry David McLuhan, author of the wildly popular book, The Rhythmic Cycle of Life. Welcome, Henry David, and thank you for being available on such short notice.”
McLuhan: “Thanks, Tom. Good to be with you.”
Mann: “I should point out to our listeners that tonight’s show was pre-recorded. Therefore we won’t be soliciting any calls or messages during the program. It’s not as interactive as I like the show to be, but it is what it is.
“First question: Is it okay to call you Henry David? I was an English major, you know, and Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau were two of my favorites. So I’m putting you in revered company.”
McLuhan: [Laughing.] “You can call me Henry David, at least for now.”
Mann: “Spoiler alert.”
McLuhan: “And I’m flattered to be in such august company.”
Mann: “At least for now.” [Laughte
r.] “But, you know, I don’t think either one of them sold nearly as many books as you.” [Laughter.] “On a serious note, you did a show this past weekend at Constitution Hall. It sold out. The first volume of your book appeared twelve years ago, yet today you’re more popular than ever. What’s the secret to your lasting success?”
McLuhan: “You have to remember, Tom, that the premise of my book is that you can change the rhythm of your life, but it takes twelve years to see the results. So, if I’m more successful, it means that people are following the roadmap I laid out and they’re seeing positive results.”
Mann: “That must be very heartening to you.”
McLuhan: “Yes, of course. It means everything to me.”
Mann: “Something else that means everything to you is a charity with which you’re involved. Tell us about it.”
McLuhan: “Yes, thanks. It’s called Restore Our Dignity. It was created by my sister, Ruth Hammond, following a tragic beating in 2013 in a parking garage in Crystal City.”
Mann: “And that leads to our spoiler alert. Did you just say Ruth Hammond is your sister?”
McLuhan: “Yes. And Henry David McLuhan is my nom de plume. My real name is Ari Hammond.”
Mann: “So much for holding you in revered company.”
McLuhan: “Alas.”
Mann: “Now, getting back to Ruth.”
McLuhan: “Ruth is my twin sister. The beating she endured in that parking garage resulted in permanent disability. It’s been a challenge for her, one that she successfully meets each day.”
Mann: “You’re aware of the fact that Phil Landry — who died in that explosion the other day at Roaches Run — has now been identified as the perpetrator of that horrific incident. How are you coping with that revelation?”
McLuhan: “It’s been a relief, frankly. It’s brought closure to my sister and to me.”
**
KATZ WAS too drunk to drive. He left his car in front of Stone’s townhome and walked home. The air was chilly. Streetlights stood sentry over the stillness of the night, spewing light over deserted sidewalks. He walked further up Prince Street than he needed, all the way to Daingerfield Road, where he made a right onto Diagonal and then another onto King before turning left on his street, Harvard.
He found Snowe asleep in bed with Katie nestled beside her. He grabbed a blanket, went downstairs, and settled on the living room sofa.
“Hey,” Snowe said a moment later. She sat on the side of the sofa.
“Hey.”
“Welcome home.”
They kissed.
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he said.
“I wasn’t really sleeping. Did you hear?” Her eyes were filled with tears.
“Yeah, it was on the news.”
“I’d like to seek custody,” she said. She clutched his hand.
“It’s what Maggie wanted,” Katz replied. “It’s in her note.”
“What do you want?”
“I want it too.”
Snowe looked at him carefully. “Have you been drinking?” She furrowed her brow. “Where exactly have you been, Mo?”
“I’ve been with Stoner and, yes, we have been drinking. A lot. But I’ve been thinking about Katie in the back of my mind, and I’m ready to commit. Let’s do it.”
**
STARS TWINKLED in a black sky. Somewhere a card game was still being played. Aces ran wild.
Sherry Stone nuzzled in Curtis Santana’s warm embrace, her head resting contentedly on a pillow. Katz and Snowe discussed the future over a freshly brewed a pot of coffee. Freddy Pena walked up and down a creaky hallway all night checking on his daughter, asleep in her room. Trey Carr dressed for a new job as a short-order cook at a greasy spoon on U Street. He glanced out the window and smiled as Sully slammed the door of an Uber and walked up the driveway, returning from a night out with friends. Tom Mann finished looking at the files and accepted Wilson’s invitation to spend the night. Ruth Hammond rested in her wheelchair; for the first time, it felt like a comfortable easy chair. And the plane carrying Ari Hammond touched down at Charles de Gaulle Airport as the morning sun broke across the City of Lights.
Epilogue
In 2009, I made a commitment to revisit the premise of my book after completing the next rhythmic cycle of my life. At the time, I felt confident that I had identified a way to review past experiences, identify problem areas, and chart a future course that converted problem areas into successes. The only ingredient I needed to prove that the theory worked was time.
Now, twelve years later, I am confident that it works! At least it did for me. And I hope the same is true for you.
By the time I turned 36 in 2009, I had experienced a series of high moments punctuated by some very low ones. I can modestly say that I had attained a modicum of professional success that exceeded all expectations. I was an accomplished writer and lecturer. Fame and fortune were mine. But there was a space in my personal life that needed improvement. It was a black and painful space. In the second cycle, it was my father’s suicide. In the third cycle, my sister’s injury.
I did not want to revisit it.
As I began the fourth cycle, I resolved to preserve and increase the professional achievement I had attained while avoiding the black space, in effect channeling from the disastrous consequences of the previous cycle and steering toward something that brought greater satisfaction and personal reward.
I identified shortcomings in the eleventh and twelfth years of my life cycle. Specifically, I saw that I withdrew support for others during those years and let members of my family fend for themselves. Bad things happened and I suffered because of it.
I also realized that good things happened during the fifth and sixth years of my life cycle, and those things happened when I was active and involved in family affairs.
As a result, I decided to become proactive, to duplicate the good things that I experienced early in my cycle and to avoid the bad things that came at the tail end.
Based upon my own experiences, The Rhythmic Cycle of Life is a useful tool to making a better life for yourself. Simply examine your past behavior. Construct different approaches to present and future tasks.
You don’t need a life coach, a spiritual guru, or a new-age psychologist, and you don’t need any professional counseling. All you need is to look at yourself.
You can do this thing. Get started today. And the next time someone tells you, “Never look back,” look them squarely in the eye and say that the only way to change the future is to study the past. The Rhythmic Cycle of Life beckons.
See you in the next go-round!
Ari Hammond, Ile St. Louis, Paris
June 2021
Acknowledgments
My thanks go to a dedicated cadre of readers from book clubs in the Alexandria area who read the manuscript: Emily Wilkinson, Charles Monfort, and Nicole Spero. Ralph Tedeschi, who runs a bookstore in Williamsburg, Virginia, also read the first draft. They tightened the prose, exposed inconsistencies in the story, and improved the tale by recommending changes that I adopted without reservation. Each of them came at the book from a different angle. Individually and collectively they made Roaches Run a better story than the one I gave them to read.
My wife, Robin Herron, meticulously edited the manuscript before it went to my editor, Charles Rammelkamp, and publisher, Clarinda Harriss. Alex White, who proofread Slaters Lane, rejoined the editorial team to assist with the newest addition to the series.
I’m honored by the encouragement and support that I receive from Charles, and appreciative for his insights and comments. His suggestions transform the final product. And I am extremely grateful to Clarinda for including Mo Katz mysteries among the books published by BrickHouse Books, her Baltimore-based print house.
Ety Bush manages the website for BrickHouse and I’m thankful for her updating my profile and events. Ace Kieffer has done the layout of all four books and does a masterful job of it. My son, Alex Wasowicz, des
igned the book covers and developed a theme for the series, beginning with the first Mo Katz mystery in 2017. Bookmobile prints and Itasca Books/BookHouse Fulfillment distributes Mo Katz mysteries, and Mark Jung, Devin Koch and everyone there provides great support.
My local community in Northern Virginia has welcomed the series, and my continued thanks go to Alexandria Living Magazine, Arlington Magazine, The Zebra, the Principle Gallery, the Old Town Shop, and Made in ALX, an online service that promotes and sells the work of local “talented makers.”
My thanks to everyone who’s reviewed the books on Good Reads and Amazon.com and to everyone who has emailed and texted me about the stories. Keep those cards and letters coming! I can be reached at [email protected].
Many cups of Misha’s coffee were consumed in this book. Green Hat Gin has been poured into glasses in three of my four books, including this one. My gratitude to the folks at Misha’s Coffee House in Old Town and New Columbia Distillers in D.C. for letting me use their labels. Cheers! And “Good Coffee!”
My thanks to Meggrolls and Principle Gallery for allowing me to refer to their Old Town establishments.
Finally, my gratitude to Robin and our sons, Alex, Andrew and Aron. I’m only as strong as the core that surrounds me, and I’ve been blessed my entire life with a loving family. I treasure and value their love and affection and trust I give back as much as I’ve received.
Mo Katz will return in Mount Vernon Circle.
Jim Cuddy narrates the audiobook edition of Roaches Run
Jim Cuddy narrates the audiobook edition of Roaches Run, available online from online distributors and through your favorite bookstore. Cuddy is a 15 year radio veteran, audio book narrator, commercial voice over artist, and the co-founder of MyHomesMedia. He resides in Arlington, Virginia.
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