Beautiful Disaster

by C. J.

  “Um, well” stammered Danny as he looked for some helpful Cliff Notes on the ceiling.

  “We have, or I guess had, a major presentation to give on Monday regarding a”

  A loud throat clearing came from Mr. Millwood. “If I may, there are some products that we cannot and should not talk about,” he said pointedly, looking at Danny, “due to formulas that are still in the formative stage. I feel the incident involving Ms. Verassing was corporate espionage, so when we discuss this, could we use generic terms and not go into any specifics?”

  “Yes, but I don’t want any important details left out. You don’t have to mention ingredients or anything. I’m just interested in what happened in the lab, your movements, what you saw and heard. I also want your impression of Ms. Verassing. Now, Mr. Kensington, continue,” Preast said.

  Danny’s brain was working furiously on what exactly to leave out without making it seem like he was leaving gaping holes in the story. Then he remembered Maggie’s advice, keep it short and to the point. He took a deep breath, and out gushed the story minus a few illegalities here and there. There was a lot of hand-waving and re-creation of gunfire and explosion sounds, but all in all, Danny managed to tell the story without actually telling the whole story. He did wander off point in describing some of Suzanne’s baked goods, but a helpful kick from Kevin put him back on track.

  Kevin, who kept his head in his hands at the beginning of the story, got sucked in during the part about the entrance of Tweedles and went along with the ride. He would “clarify points” when Danny started to wander too close to either things that they shouldn’t know or entrances that they should not have been using.

  When Danny finished, Preast said, “Well that certainly is an interesting story, and the statements of Mr. Rodger and Mr. Mitchell do seem to back up your version of events.”

  “Um, not to get picky, but their Christian names are Roger and Mitchell,” informed Kevin.

  “According to my information, the security guards employed by Lexi are as follows: one Roger Mitchell and one Mitchell Rodger,” Preast said, checking his notes. “Aren’t those the same guards that assisted you during tonight’s little adventure?”

  “Roger Mitchell and Mitchell Rodger, you gotta be fucking kidding me! No wonder they’re interchangeable. And they would answer to either name. That is too fucking funny,” snorted Danny. He turned to Kevin and said in a sing-songy voice, “Roger Mitchell, Mitchell Rodger, Roger Dodger, Mitchell Twitchell.”

  Kevin replied, “Roger, Roger, Mitchell Twitchell. This is Mitchell Twitchell coming back at yah. Roger Mitchell Tweedle III reporting for duty, sir. I’m looking for Mitchell Rodger Tweedle IV.”

  “Gentlemen, this is not the time or place for this nonsense. I will see the two of you in my office first thing Monday morning. Is that clear?” boomed Mr. Millwood.

  “Yes, Mr. Millwood,” chorused Kevin and Danny who were just about to launch into another verse of the Tweedle song.

  “Thank you, Franklin, for joining us, I’ll see you out on the handball court tomorrow,” Sgt. Preast told Millwood and walked him to the door.

  “You two, however, will come to the station tomorrow at 09:00 and make a statement. A clear, concise statement with no bullshit attached. Do I make myself clear?” Sgt. Preast shouted at Danny and Kevin, who scrambled to their feet and managed to squeak out an affirmative to Sgt. Preast’s back as he stormed out the door.

  Kevin was hot on Preast’s heels trying to rearrange his clothing and de-smudge his face, and only managed to stumble into the door with a crash. He looked through the peephole to see if Jay was still there, and saw her turn toward the door, presumably to see what just crashed into it. He opened it quickly to make it look like he was going out, and not checking out the hallway like some sort of perverted stalker. But he overestimated the force necessary to open the door and flung it open with a bang. The door struck the round porthole door deflector and crashed closed, leaving Kevin staring at the inside of his bisque colored door with the faux brass doorknob and trim.

  Jay had briefly seen Kevin’s shocked face just before the door closed, and crept slowly forward, wondering what in the hell she had just witnessed. Kevin decided to open the door again with much less gusto now found himself face to face with Jay.

  “Uh, I was just checking the door to see, you know, if it had been damaged by the search warrant guys. I didn’t know how they got in and I would hate to have an unsecured door all night. Ummm, well, it turns out the door is fine,” Kevin offered feebly as heard a muffled gasp behind him, then a faint whisper, “Right on, Casanova,” followed by more stifled moans and giggles courtesy of Danny.

  “Right, why don’t I step out into the hall while Danny straightens up,” Kevin said guiding Jay along the corridor.

  “They used a passkey from maintenance; there shouldn’t be any damage to your door,” Jay informed.

  “Of course, how silly of me. So have you had time to think about us, as in you and me going out somewhere nice and quiet? Free from all distractions work-related and otherwise. Somewhere with soft music and a menu in a foreign language, where the waiter sniffs at your pronunciation of the entrees and your choice of wine.”

  “You know, you only just asked me I’m going to need some more time to think about this. I heard the Sergeant say you were coming in tomorrow morning. Maybe I’ll have an answer for you then.”

  “You could hear him when he was leaving? He has such a soft, soothing, calming voice that I’m surprised you could hear it from the hall.”

  “I think I could hear my Sergeant with a jet plane taking off down the corridor. I best be leaving and rejoin the rest of the team before they leave me behind. See you tomorrow.”

  Kevin grasped Jay’s left hand, kissed it gently, and said, “Until tomorrow, when seeing you will be the highlight of my day, possibly the decade.”

  He then walked back to the apartment door, which had closed again and was locked. He grasped the doorknob and waved until Jay was out of sight, whispering madly for Danny to let him in.

  Danny, was being a dick as usual, was asking for his name, what he wanted and, informing, no, he hadn’t ordered a pizza, but that sounded like a good idea.

  “Fine, I’ll just go over to Maggie’s. I’m sure she is pretty shaken up by tonight’s events and will need someone to talk to. Maybe have a glass of wine and watch some Netflix. I know, we will watch a marathon of “Mythbusters” and perhaps she’ll take pity on me and offer to let me spend the night.”

  At first, all Danny heard was blah blah blah coming from the other side of the door, but then his brain began to reorganize things and heard “Maggie,” “wine” and “spend the night.” He flung open the door and said, “You wouldn’t. If anyone needs to go over to Maggie’s, it’s her boyfriend, the one and only man in her life. I’m the one who should be sharing a bottle of wine and a marathon of “Mythbusters,” not you buddy.”

  Danny then shook his keys at Kevin, and a few minutes later he and the beast were headed to Maggie’s.

  “I thought they would never leave. Now I can get some work done.” Kevin opened up the pantry which he had converted into a cleaning cupboard that “Monk” would have swooned over and pulled out the vacuum cleaner. He Hoovered until the neighbors pounded on the walls, at which point he switched to his arsenal of cleaning supplies and dust bunny wands.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  KEVIN SLEPT LIKE A baby after his marathon cleaning session, awoke at 07:00 and went over to Maggie’s at 08:00 to rustle Danny out of bed. On the way, he had stopped at a bakery and a fast food joint and bought enough fattening and cholesterol ridden food to kill a small gathering. However, all three of them had a high tolerance for a diet that had only heard rumors of a food pyramid, and their systems welcomed the familiar fare.

  “Hi, babe, I bought an overabundance of breakfast stuff. Sure to please if not slowly kill all us,” Kevin told Maggie after she stumbled into the kitchen after hearing him knocking about.r />
  “Lovely, but why are you here so early?” she asked.

  “Your man and I have an appointment downtown with detective or inspectors or whatever they’re called at the cop shop at 09:00. That’s how you say it, oh nine hundred. Cool, right?”

  “Yeah, but I thought you guys already made your statement. That’s what Danny said. He was so wrung out from all the questions I made him a snack when he came over, and then I gave him a massage.”

  “All the questioning? Yes, well, that wasn’t a formal interview, just an overview type of thing. Today’s the formal interview where they record it, or we write it down or something.”

  “Danny will never get through this. He was a wreck last night. And according to him, you weren’t any help. You could’ve at least talked him through it. It was a shared experience and all.”

  “Yes, that’s me. I’m a selfish bastard. I’m no good at that sort of thing, so I suggested he see you since you’re a woman and know the womanly things to say to calm his nerves and all.”

  “Why do I smell a rat? Or should I say rats? Danny, get your ass in here,” Maggie yelled.

  Danny appeared, looking as usual as if he slept in his clothes, which today were a frayed denim shirt and equally worn blue jeans.

  “What is it, hon, I couldn’t have done anything. I’ve been sleeping for the last few hours, well, mostly sleeping... Oh, it’s you. I figured my happiness couldn’t last long,” said Danny, glaring at Kevin.

  “You guys have another interview at 09:00. Why didn’t you say so, Danny?” asked Maggie. She surveyed Danny’s attire, looked at Kevin for help, and then exploded, “For God’s sake, Danny, the police are going to think you belong in one of their holding cells or just escaped from a work gang. Look at Kevin; he is dressed like an adult. I don’t know about these things, but I’m guessing you will get more respect from whoever interviews you if you wear something appropriate. Find a collared shirt that doesn’t have a cartoon character on it and a pair of khakis, and come back down here.”

  Danny was trying to think of a witty comeback, but noticing the look in Maggie’s eyes, decided he may have misjudged his attire for the day and took off for the bedroom. A faint, “I refuse to look like a reject from the local Mega Mart,” floated down the stairs.

  “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a light blue polo shirt and tan pants,” Kevin shouted and then looked at himself. “Oh crap, I do look like I should be handing out shopping carts at the front door of a megastore.”

  Danny returned looking somewhat more presentable in a button-down blue plaid shirt and gray slacks. “Well, I am ready for my interrogation. I hope it’s not in some dark, dank cell without windows. I get claustrophobic.”

  “For God’s sake, moron, they simply want our statements, either in written or possibly in audio form. You are such an ass.”

  Maggie, who had already dismissed the two, was making coffee and had helped herself to several helpings of a heart attack on plate, courtesy of Kevin.

  “God, Kevin, these crullers are to die for. Where did you get them?” she asked between bites.

  “Bob’s Bakery and Bait shop at the corner of Louis and Market.”

  “They’re the best, I’ve ever. What? ‘And bait shop’? You made that last part up, didn’t you? Great, now I have that bait shop picture in my mind, way to go. Breakfast is ruined, and you may be seeing a re-run here shortly.”

  For Maggie, however, the call of the cruller was too much. She ignored the image of worms wiggling their way through the pastry, finished it, and started on an egg and sausage biscuit.

  “Yes, I can see I’ve put you off food entirely. You will have to be given food intravenously in the future if you don’t recover soon,” Kevin countered snidely.

  A donut sailed in his direction, which he grabbed in mid-air and began scarfing it down. “Thanks, don’t mind if I do.” He then watched Danny trying to pour coffee into a cup over the sink while nearly asleep; the contents of the carafe whooshed down the drain.

  “Come on Danny, time to go,” said Kevin and propelled Danny out of the house and into his Jag.

  “But I haven’t had my coffee yet!” wailed Danny.

  “You had half the pot, I saw you,” said Kevin, firing up the Jag and heading it at warp speed toward the police station.

  “Oh, I should be good then,” Danny said, and nodded off to sleep, not waking until Kevin jerked to a stop at the local police station.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ALMOST TWO HOURS LATER outside the police station.

  “I don’t know what I was worried about. That was a breeze. I thought it would be like giving a speech in school, but I just stuck to the facts and kept cool throughout my statement. I think I even impressed Detective Masters, and he looked like a guy that doesn’t impress easily. He kept staring at me like he couldn’t believe what we had gone through. In fact, in the end, I think I overloaded his thought process, and he could only handle yes and no answers,” said Danny.

  “I know. I thought we would be in there for hours and it took less than two. Maggie was right, just keep it simple. Detective Bellows seemed impressed by my statement as well. He was hanging onto my every word. At times he seemed almost speechless. At one point, he looked like he couldn’t believe that the two of us could handle a situation so well with absolutely no training.” Kevin raised his hand toward Danny for a high five.

  Danny smacked Kevin's hand. “I bet they are used to the more un-educated type of individuals. When they come across learned people such as ourselves, it throws them off their usual interviewing techniques and they have to use a different approach for us scholarly types.”

  “Damn straight. Let’s take our scholarly butts off to brunch, I’m hungry,” Kevin said, and trotted toward the parking lot with stacks of pancakes whirling in his head.

  Almost two hours later. Reality inside the station

  “Christ, these Lexi security guards are star witnesses compared to those two morons. If I have to interview either one of them again, I’m going to eat my gun. I swear to God, there isn’t an assistance program in the world that can stop me from taking those two idiots out first and me afterward if I have to see or hear from them again,” moaned Detective Vincent Masters, an 18 year veteran of the Police Department. Masters appeared ageless. Even though he was 42, he could pass for someone in their thirties. He was a compact man with small and tidy features to match. Given his tiny, mouse-like nose and mouth, one almost expected him to sniff the air in the room before entering. After 18 years of being on the force and eight of those as a detective, he was a dangerous mouse that no one wanted to go against. Today, however, he looked like a beaten down man ready to collect social security.

  “I know. I had to cut my interview short, I couldn’t take it anymore. My idiot was making sound effects throughout the whole interview. Kabang and kablooey, like it was a fucking Batman cartoon. Julie is going to kill me when she tries to transcribe this,” moaned Detective Frankie Bellows. He had 15 years in the police department, seven in the detective division. In comparison to Masters, Bellows was tall and skinny with a lean, long-distance runner’s body. He was 40 but looked older due to years of smoking and drinking which he tried to counteract by running. Consequently, he had lines on his round owlish face. His handlebar mustache and small dark eyes only contributed to his owl-like look.

  “I know what you mean. My moron...” Masters looked, through his notes, “...Kensington kept falling into some sort of a trance. Julie is going to think the interview is over and then he starts up again, and when he does, it’s a bunch of incoherent garbage. I finally had to ask him to just give yes and no answers. Open-ended questions were either going to kill him or me. At one point I almost sympathized with Verassing trying to kill them.”

  “Well at least we can clear them as accomplices. They spent more time hiding than anything else, and those security guys back up their story for the most part,” said Bellows.

  “Don’t remind me about t
hem. Mitchell and Roger were just as moronic as the other two. For a while, I thought I was being set up for some sort of joke I kept waiting for someone to enter the room and shout, “You’ve been had!” As soon as I asked those guards about a weapon that either Verassing or they had used, I was immediately sorry. I nearly had to pull the fire alarm to get them to shut up about the type of weapons, the type of ammo the history of the weapons, and C-4. It was like listening to the History Chanel on weaponry given by Elmer Fudd and his equally weird brother. This whole case is surreal. Give me a good old gang shooting any day,” Masters said wistfully as he and Bellows walked down the hall to the detectives’ office.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  MAGGIE, KNOWING SHE only had a few hours tops, flew into action as soon as Kevin’s jaguar was out of sight. She grabbed the formula the guys had snuck out of the lab and set about recreating it in her lab.

  “This is unbelievable. Except for my nanotech bit, this is all-natural. This is the most amazing breakthrough the world has ever seen. I wonder if my under the sea additions had anything to do with....Nah, there was just a far out chance those elements would have any effects other than an extremely noxious odor.” A little voice kept whispering to her, what if there are unforeseen side effects that haven’t surfaced yet? “Oh, shut up,” she told it. She had consistently squashed that little voice over the years so that it now could barely be heard over the loud, cheering voice of “GO, GO, GO.”

  Maggie made enough of the formula to use on her, with, a small amount left over to put into a pint bottle. She hid that container in a secret compartment at her workstation in the lab, semi-confident that neither Danny nor Kevin knew about her hidey-hole.

  After gorging themselves at Uncle Harry’s Feedbag and Country Store, Danny and Kevin waddled to the Jag and returned to Maggie’s just in time to see her exit the lab and head for the house.