by Jim Magwood
Two days later, at three in the morning, Paul’s bedside phone rang and Jake’s low, mellow, singsong voice came through. “Out of bed, sweetheart. You are a dee-tective now and you will not sleep at night. That’s an o-fficial order. No sleepy, sleepy. Wakee, wakee.”
Paul almost threw the phone across the room, then growled, “You have got to be kidding. I just got to bed. You are really not right.” Then he continued, “Where are you?”
“You need to get out here to the WBAK building. We’ve got a fire that looks like the others and we need to be looking at it even before it cools.”
“Okay. Give me an hour.”
“Half, sweetheart.” Then his voice lowered even more. “And bring your shoe shine kit. Carver’s here on this one.”
Paul groaned, put the phone down and got out of bed. He was far too tired to even pretend any excitement.
Fifty minutes later, he drove up to the WBAK building on 9th and Jefferson, parked across the street in the reserved lot in front of the museum, and walked over to the gathered troops. He saw Jake very plainly taking up most of the doorway near the corner of the building, so headed that way. As he got to him, Jake pointed in the door to a man several feet inside and said, “There’s Carver, so look awake and be nice.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“I told you he’d be out here any hour when something big got going. He’s a good man for that. Anything big and bad, if we’re here, you can figure he’ll probably be here.”
At that moment, Commander Carver came back out to the steps with tears coming down his face from the smoke and fumes still boiling inside. “About time you got here, Corbin. Figured you were gonna sleep all night on us. Still trying to figure out how to be a detective, huh? We don’t work no nine to fives around here.” Then he looked over at Jake, and they chimed in unison, “We never sleep.” Paul just groaned.
Carver directed the two men over to a quiet place across the street and leaned against a patrol car while wiping the tears out of his eyes. “You’ve been here for a bit, Jake. Do we have anything?”
“Nope. Still too hot to get far inside, so the arson guys haven’t found much yet. They can smell accelerant, but no real signs yet. There’s a big area around back where it looks like a basement window was broken in and fuel poured inside. Looks like a trail poured out a few feet into the alley, then torched and it ran into the building and took off. It’ll be another few hours though before they can get inside to really check things out. No bodies yet.”
“That’s one good thing, anyway.”
Paul asked, “How did we find it?”
Carver and Jake looked at each other and toned, “We?”
“Okay. How was the po-lice department notified and how did you gentlemen find out?”
Jake said, “I think he may be starting to learn, Cap’n.”
Carver nodded, then replied, “Citizen called it in. Thought he saw some fire inside the building. Didn’t leave a name, though, and left before the trucks got here. The desk was kind enough to call those of us who they knew did not sleep at night, and so we got here right early. Right, Jake?”
“Right, Cap’n. Right early. We did, yup.”
Paul sighed and asked, “Shall I solve it for you now?”
Carver looked at him with a fatherly look and answered, “Why yes, Detective Corbin, I think you should do just that. Any minute now would be just fine for you to do that.”
Paul turned around to face the building, wet a finger and held it to the breeze, sniffed a few times, then turned back and said, “Someone torched this fine building.”
Carver and Jake turned to each other with incredulous looks on their faces and Jake finally said, “Now there, Cap’n. I told you he was one of them college-educated boys and he would be exceptionally good for our antiquated old department. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“Yes, you did, Jake, And to think I didn’t believe you. My, oh my, oh my.”
The three men stood there quietly for several minutes just watching the fire crews going about their work. Finally, a crew chief came over and said, “We’ve got most of the fire out now, but it’ll be a few hours before it’s cool enough to get very far inside. Haven’t found anything noticeable yet. And no bodies so far. Thank god for that, at least.”
“Did it get very far?” Carver asked.
“No. Thankfully we got here and were able to be on it quick. Maybe about a quarter of the ground floor, maybe less. And just smoke damage to parts of the next couple of floors. They’ll probably be back in business later today, and have it fully cleaned by the end of the week. Presses will still be rolling for tonight’s news.”
Carver thanked him, then asked whether the two detectives had any immediate plans.
Jake replied, “Yessir, I think we’re going back to the station to roust a fine young computer data man out of his beauty sleep and see what we’ve got on that search. We need to plug this fire into that search right away.”
Paul asked, “What makes you think this one’s related to the others, Jake?”
Jake took him by the arm and they went to the back of the building. He pointed to the wall beside a window that had been blackened by flames that had come out of it. The lettering was crude and the paint had dripped and run down from several letters, making the letters appear halloween-ish, but the words were legible.
The dark dont wait. Dont need no light to fix things and dont need no news to make it right. The news dint do it right to start. No body did it right.
CHAPTER 18
Sammie Zetta sat at his terminal and carefully logged in items given him by Jake and Paul. The data file already had thousands of matches from the previous data, and this would likely add many more links. He had dragged out of bed when Jake called him, but was wide-awake with anticipation by the time he got to the center.
“Okay,” he said, “We’ve got ‘WBAK’ specifically, plus references to ‘news media’, ‘newspapers’, and a dozen more like that. We’ve got the new poetry as a whole and all the individual misspelled words and phrases.” He paused a moment, then said, “This one sounds even more illiterate or disjointed than the others. You think?”
“Maybe,” Paul replied, “but we don’t want to get hung up on that. It could be a complete red herring. Just leave it like it is and we’ll see what comes up. We’ve got the references in there already about misspellings and literacy. Let’s not go any further and maybe confuse the issue.”
“You put in ‘the dark’, right? He seems to be sitting on that.”
“Yeah, it’s there, Jake.”
Paul and Jake sat back in the chairs with their minds obviously spinning. They had had Sammie print off a few pages of the data to see if anything was popping up yet. More just to get their minds flowing in a direction they could hopefully focus on. Every few minutes they would grab pages and look something up, then toss the pages back on the desk in frustration.
“Jake, you got anything gelling at all yet?”
“Nothing but the obvious. We might have something to do with kids specifically. But there’s—how many pages do you think there are of data, Sammie?”
“Looks like well over a thousand so far. But that’s got every incident from every school in the District for the past ten years, even from other states if they’re in the base, and it could have stuff about missing lunch bags for all we know.”
“Okay, so we’ve got kids and missing lunch bags. On these sample pages, I didn’t see anything linking kid stuff to fires or WBAK or news people getting shot. We’ve also got a senator getting shot. We’ve got weird poems.” He paused. “Do we get any hints out of the poems?”
Paul answered, “The first one had something about somebody going for fun, and then a gun. I remember that. Then that one with the senator said… what was it… it talked about ‘they.’ Another reference to maybe someone specific. Would it be kids he’s referencing?”
“But kids where? We’ve got thousands of links to kids from the sch
ools. Maybe a bunch of kids have met with the senator over the years. Maybe they all had fun. But… what would that have to do with school fires… or the senator getting killed? Nothing’s clicking here, Paul.”
“Yeah, I don’t have anything, either.”
“Okay, guys, I’ve got all the stuff in that you gave me, and it’s running again. I think that the main search was likely pretty much done, but I have a feeling this one might add a ton of stuff to the file. WBAK must have a million articles they’ve done over the years on schools and kids, and senators and fires and… Man, this could go on forever. But it’s running, for whatever good.”
“Okay, Sammie. I guess no prognosis on time?”
“Nah, I couldn’t even give a guess. Like I said, WBAK…“
“Yeah, I heard. I guess we just let it sit and spin?”
“That’s all I can say for now, Jake.”
“Okay, then why don’t you go on home, Sammie. We’ll catch you in the morning.”
“Uh, in case you didn’t notice, Jake, the light coming in that little window up there tells me it’s already morning. And this beautiful watch my missus gave me before she divorced me this morning for coming in here tells me it’s time for my shift to start anyway. Might as well stay, right, since it’s such a lovely day?”
“Right. Lovely. Yeah, stay.” Then he looked at Paul and growled, “And why aren’t you up at your desk figuring all this out. You gonna sit down here and bother Sammie all day?”
“Uh, last time I heard, I think that was our desk.”
“Yeah, but you don’t have all this figured out yet, right?”
“So what answers do you have for us?”
“Me? I’ve got me this here computer running like crazy and gonna give me so many answers in just a few minutes, right Sammie?”
“Yup. You sure got that, Jake. Just a few minutes. Lots of answers. Yup.”
“Well, then maybe we oughtta go get some donuts, huh?”
“Donuts? What is it with you and all these donuts? I thought you gave them up when you came to this ee-leet outfit. Donuts?” He paused.
“Well… maybe… just a couple of them cinnamon thingys. You know… with them crunchy things on them, and hot, and a tub of icing… and butter. But, just a couple, okay? I don’t want none of that tem-ta-shun to set in, right?”
“I think we need to go get the car, Jake. See you Sammie. You know our number, right?”
“Sure. 123-DONUT.”
CHAPTER 19
When Paul and Jake got back from their donut run, Paul saw the light blinking on his phone and listened to the message. As it ran on, Jake saw the look on his face change to one of disbelief, and sat back quietly waiting to get enlightened. When Paul hung up the phone, he just sat there for a moment, and Jake finally said, “Well?”
“It was him, the arsonist.”
“You have got to be kidding.”
“No. Unless it was someone who knows everything and
decided to cash in.”
“This only happens in the movies. The bad guys don’t
really call us and give up. What’s he gonna do, walk in here
and slip into a cell all by himself?”
“Nope, he sure didn’t say anything like that. But, he said
some things he is gonna do, that’s for sure. Hold on for a minute. Let me get this copied onto our recorder here and we can
listen together.”
It took him a minute to get the machine hooked up and
then another minute plus to get the message recorded from his
voice mail. He finally disconnected the recorder and sat back.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Let it run.”
Paul pushed the Play button and the message began. The
voice was low and scratchy, very disjointed and jerky, and it
slurred its way slowly as it rambled on.
“You dunno who this is but ah want you to. Ah seen yur
name in the papers so ah calling to make you know. Ah gonna take care of all this so you don’ got to. So you can jes’ stay ‘way. Maybe ah tell you, maybe not, but ah do it. You don’ worry. They din’ do nothin’ wrong but they got killed anyway and nobody don’ wanna help ‘em so ah gotta take care of ‘em. That politic guy, he was no good and din’ help ‘em. Din’ do nuthin’ for ‘em. Couldn spent any money on them but got a bunch for him. An’ he spen’ it on a bunch’a more people but not on them. That ain’t right an’ you know it, too. So he gone now. An’ the others gonna be gone too. Gonna burn them places cause they din’ do nothin’ but trouble. Lotta rules but no love, right? Gotta have rules but don’ gotta have no lovin’, right? Jes’ rules. He tell me what ta do, so ah gonna go now so to get stuff done an’ you jes’ leave me be so ah can do what
ah gotta.”
The sound clicked off and both men sat silently. “Wow,” was all Jake could say.
“Yeah. Wow.”
“Think we mighta got his number?”
“Probably not. It came through the switchboard, so they’d
have lost the contact when they switched it to my voice-mail.
I’ll check, though. I’ll get the time stamp in a minute and call
the switchboard. Didn’t leave his name though.”
“Nope. Didn’t hear a name.”
“Anything pop out at you quick—first listen?” “I got that phrase about ‘they didn’t do anything wrong
but got killed.’ That might get us somewhere. And the ‘politic
guy’—that’d be the senator, I suppose. He was attached in
some way. Didn’t help them or something? And did you catch
that about ‘He told me what to do’?”
“Yeah, maybe someone’s directing him? And he’s got a
lot of that broken English talk—broken words and phrases.
Some inflection or accent at times, but not all the time. Did he
sound black to you?”
“Sometimes he did, but like you said, not all the time. I
got more the impression of someone missing some smarts.
Maybe an accident victim, or sick. Not stupid, just maybe not all there. But, you said before it could be a con job, so I don’t
know.”
“Yeah. Hold on for a minute.” Paul grabbed his phone
and dialed. “Sammie. You still awake? Yeah, I know. Listen,
we just got a call and I need to have you run another search.
Can you run a separate search on the same data we’ve already
collected, all at the same time? Okay, well then try plugging in
these words and see what happens. Use ‘kids’ and ‘children’,
with ‘guns’, ‘weapons’—others like that; ‘Senator Marks’;
words like ‘killed’ ‘shot’, ‘wounded’, maybe like ‘kids
died’—like that. Put in words like ‘schools’, ‘school children’,
maybe ‘teachers’. Right now I can’t think of any more, but
when you get all that ready, call me and maybe I’ll add some
more. Okay, thanks.”
“Whoo-wee, I can see your mind spinning. Good thinking, partner.”
“Let me call somebody—one of the techs and get this
phone message saved for sure. Then I’ll get hold of the
switchboard and see if maybe they have anything. Then what?
Okay, I’ll get a written copy made of the message and we can
start really going over it. Maybe listen to the tape a few more
times?”
“Did you stop to question how he got your name, and
even why he bothered to call you?”
“Well, I’ve been on TV a couple of times after the first
fire I went to, so I’m sure that’s where. Maybe we can trace
backwards and get a copy of the TV file. No, wait. Didn’t he
say ‘the papers?’ Maybe ‘WBAK’, do you think?”
> “I don’t know, but we better find it. In fact, why don’t
you call Sammie back and have him search it. He’d be faster
at it than trying to get the paper to dig through their files.” “Good idea. I’ll do that.” He paused and thought for a
moment, then said, “You’re right, though. Why’d he call me?
How did he really know me?”
“Maybe just confirming he really is a nut case? But he
really didn’t say much, just that he got your name. Hmmm. I wonder what he would have done if you were here to get the
call?”
“Yeah. I just thought of that myself.”
The cell phone rang just once and the ragged man picked
it up. The voice immediately said, “Cobra seven?”
The ragged man stopped moving and his heartbeat
slowed. Relaxation poured over him and he relaxed as if he
had just been wrapped in a huge, soft blanket.
“Cobra seven, are you alright?”
“Yes,” the voice from the ragged man slurred out. “Where are you on the list?”
“I on,” he paused a moment, “number six today. Done
number six. Tomorrow number seven.”
“There is a change. You need to look at the list and do
number nine first. You need to do number nine before number
seven. Do you understand, Cobra seven?”
“Okay, I understand. I do number nine before number
seven, okay?”
“Yes, that’s right. Take the tools in the truck like I told
you and then wait like it says on the list. After the job, wait for