Déjà-BOOM!

by Wally Duff

  He wore a beige linen suit, a patterned, green silk shirt with matching tie, and tasseled light brown loafers with no socks.

  “New threads?” I asked him.

  He nodded. “Got this on sale at Ralph Lauren. Purple label. Forty percent off. Couldn’t pass it up.”

  “Did they tailor it for you?”

  “No way, sweets. My guy always fixes my clothes.”

  I didn’t mention his gun, and when he didn’t ask me why, I knew he wasn’t interested in anything but Brittany’s legs.

  “Tony,” I said.

  “Huh?”

  I pointed at the email. “What do you think?”

  “Amazing.”

  The mole, you dope! Not Brittany.

  “Tony, focus,” I said. “We need to get to work on this.”

  “Okay, what I need from you,” Tony said, as he tossed the printout of the email on the table, “is something concrete I can take to the captain to convince him this mole of yours is the real deal. This crap coulda come from anyone.”

  “If the FBI lab discovers that the C4 residue from Hinsdale, Deerfield, and the North Side bombing match, that should be enough to convince your boss to take this seriously,” Brittany said.

  She’s all over this story.

  I wondered how long she’d been working on it.

  Tony didn’t respond. The blank look on his face proved he was not fully invested in this.

  “How about asking them to compare the C4 residue from Arlington with the three Chicago area bombings?” I asked. “That should be more than enough.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He took out his small, spiral cop notebook and wrote it down. “Don’t expect the FBI lab guys to bust their humps to get the results to us any time soon.”

  The FBI lab is notorious for taking a long time sending results to local law enforcement agencies.

  I knew a way to speed up the process. “Tell them this might involve Dr. Micah Mittelman.”

  “You mentioned him in the O’Hare story,” Brittany said. “But I haven’t seen his name associated with the bombings.”

  “Good pickup,” I said. “There’s a new element to this story.”

  61

  I told Brittany and Tony about Micah and the therapeutic cloning in his lab. Brittany recorded what I said on her cell phone.

  Tony took out his cell phone and logged on to his Facebook account while I talked. I should have been pissed, but I wasn’t. Science wasn’t in his wheelhouse, and I didn’t want to take the time to explain SCNT to him.

  I finished.

  Brittany immediately understood.

  Tony did not.

  She tapped her finger on her laptop. “Tina, what do you think the abortion clinic bomber’s been doing the past five years?”

  “I’ve wondered the same thing,” I said. “I shot him as he detonated the bomb, so he was obviously injured in the Arlington explosion. The FBI assumed that either the bullets or the blast, or both, might have put him out of commission.”

  “And your mole wrote you the same thing.”

  “Yep.”

  “But it didn’t happen.”

  “Obviously. But it takes money to live, so where has he been getting it?” I asked.

  “Robbing banks would be the perfect way to stay financially solvent,” she said.

  “Don’t think so,” Tony said. “Dude is keeping his head down working at a nondescript job.”

  “Maybe he has some anti-abortion supporters with money providing funds to him,” she said.

  “I’ll research it,” I said, adding that to the notes I was making to transfer to my computer file.

  “Tony, in case you’re wrong, why not have the FBI compare this C4 with any other bombings in the U.S. for the past five years?” she asked. “This might give us some clues as to where he’s been and what he’s been doing before he arrived in this area.”

  He wrote it down in his little book, but he didn’t seem too happy about it.

  Brittany observed this. She leaned over and put her fingertips lightly on his upper arm. It looked like she had a fresh manicure. My short nails could use one, but being a mommy, I didn’t have time — and it wouldn’t last anyway.

  “It would help a lot if you would do this for me,” she said.

  He glanced down at her hand. “Okay, I’ll handle it. You both stay out of my way. That way, the boss won’t complain.”

  “No way,” I said. “If we’re going to help you, we want an exclusive on everything you have.”

  “Ain’t happenin’.” He put his notebook in the inside jacket pocket of his suit coat.

  “Maybe we can have a drink somewhere tonight and discuss this further,” she said to him.

  “Was thinking the same thing,” he said.

  My cell phone pinged.

  It was a text from Molly: Found Jamie. Need you and Tony.

  I texted Molly back: OMG! You found Jamie? Where?

  Molly: His new place.

  Me: Tony with me. Where R U?

  Molly: With Jamie.

  Me: Address?

  Molly texted it to me.

  62

  I’d walked to Dinkel’s, so I rode shotgun with Tony in his detective car, a brown Ford Crown Vic. It took us fifteen minutes to speed to Jamie’s new apartment. It was located in Wrigleyville.

  At the front door, Tony checked his gun to make sure he had a bullet in the chamber. I took mine out of my backpack and did too. He noticed but didn’t say anything. The front door of the building was locked.

  I texted Molly.

  Me: Here. Which apartment?

  Molly: 401. Buzzing front door 4 u.

  The buzzer sounded. We opened the door and rushed into the hallway.

  Tony punched the elevator button. I couldn’t wait. I shouldered my backpack and ran up the stairs.

  “What the…?!” he yelled at my back, as I opened the stairway door and began my sprint up the stairs.

  The elevator dinged on the first floor as I reached the second floor. I continued to sprint to the fourth floor.

  When I reached it, I took out my gun. The elevator door slid open and Tony stepped out. He took out his gun and looked at me. I shrugged my shoulders.

  We walked quietly to 401. I held my Glock in both hands. Tony raised his arm, preparing to knock, but before he could, the door flew open.

  “Hi guys,” Molly said.

  Tony’s mouth fell open. Mine did too.

  “Molly?” I gasped.

  “I know, right? Sorry about the way I’m dressed, but these are some of the clothes the farmers bought for me when I worked for them.”

  “Farmers had a skimpy budget,” Tony observed.

  He was right. Think black silk push-up bra, matching thong, black fishnet hose, and six-inch-heeled, knee-high black boots. Oh, and thick eye makeup, fake eyelashes, and a heavy dose of expensive perfume. Her blond hair was covered by a black wig.

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  “Where else?” She jerked her thumb toward a closed door. “The bedroom.”

  Tony stepped toward the door with his gun in front of him.

  “No need for that,” she said. “He’s tied up.”

  Jamie was so muscular it was hard to picture her restraining him without a fight.

  “He wanted me to,” she continued.

  Tony looked over his shoulder at her when she said that. “Oh, baby,” he whispered to himself.

  He moved toward the bedroom. I followed.

  “Ah, Tony, you might want to wait out here for a minute or two,” Molly said. “I need to talk to Tina in there first.”

  63

  We walked into the bedroom. Jamie was on the bed, spread-eagle on his back. Each of his wrists was handcuffed to a bed post. Each ankle was cuffed to the foot of the bed. He had a ball-like gag in his mouth. A white sheet covered his body.

  I noticed a short black whip on a chair close to the bed. The plug from an orange extension cord dangled out from under the sheet.
>
  The aroma of incense burning on a table by the bed irritated my nose. Enya sang from a matched set of Bose speakers on each side of the bed.

  Jamie began squirming when he saw us come in. Molly picked up another extension cord that was stuck in a wall outlet. She held the far end of the cord in one hand and picked up the opposite end — from the bed — in her other. She brought them close together.

  “Now, Jamie, remember I told you to settle down or there will be consequences,” Molly said, as she acted like she was going to plug the two cords together. She spoke with a distinct southern accent.

  That’s new.

  Jamie’s eyebrows shot up, and he stopped moving.

  I put my gun in my backpack.

  “How did you find him?” I asked.

  “Yesterday, I went on one of his favorite porn websites. We connected, and today, I came over.”

  She continued to speak with the southern belle accent.

  I whispered in her ear so Jamie couldn’t hear me. “How did he not know it was you? He sat next to you each time you were in spinning class together.”

  She whispered back to me. “Yeah, about that. No guy really looks at my face for obvious,” she glanced down toward her massive boobs, “reasons. In fact, none of them even know what color my eyes are.”

  Count me in that group. I stared into her eyes. They were brown.

  She noticed. “They’re actually blue.” She continued to whisper. “I’m wearing brown contacts. And with the black wig and heavy face and eye makeup, there was no way he knew it was me.” She turned to Jamie and spoke up with her southern belle accent. “Right, sweetie?”

  He strained against the cuffs. She brought the cords close together. He stopped moving.

  “But anyway, I know what guys like, so I suggested we play a couple of games,” she continued with her accent.

  “That’s how you were able to handcuff him?” I asked.

  “That and do a couple of other things.”

  Not sure I want to know what those are.

  “You didn’t…?” I asked.

  “The big ugly?” she responded.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Never came up. He was so excited about what I told him I was going to do to him that he never got around to going for it.”

  “What’s with the extension cords?”

  “Insurance,” she said. “At first, he was super excited about what I was going to do. But then he got a little out of control, so I changed the game around a little.”

  She jiggled the ends of the cord. Jamie’s eyes widened.

  “You settled right on down, didn’t you, big boy?”

  I wasn’t sure exactly what she’d done, but it worked. Jamie didn’t move a muscle.

  “When I did this for the farmers, we used to record what the bad guy confessed to us after I had them controlled.”

  “Great idea,” I said.

  “Yeah, but Linda always brings up this legal crap, and she says whatever we do is illegal. What do we do about that?”

  She was right. How could we get Jamie to confess to anything with him handcuffed to a bed and some kind of “insurance” device attached to him under the sheets?

  64

  “I did think of one solution,” Molly continued. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you without Tony hearing it, just in case it’s illegal too.”

  “Tell me,” I said.

  “Jamie and I talked about why the FBI let him go at O’Hare. At first, he fibbed about it, but,” she twirled the cords in her hands, “he realized that was a mistake, and he told me the truth.”

  “Which was just as you suggested: he was going to do wet work for the feds.”

  “You got it, and that might be the solution to our problem. He’s afraid that if he’s busted by the Chicago cops, the feds might think he’ll roll over on them about what they hired him to do.”

  “Hired?”

  “Jamie doesn’t work for free.”

  I turned to him. “That right?”

  He nodded.

  “Let me get this straight,” I said to him. “If Tony arrests you, you’ll try to beat the rap with the cops by confessing that the feds hired you to kill Micah.”

  He nodded.

  “And if the cops release you, the feds will hunt you down to keep you from testifying against them and confessing to the plot to kill Micah.”

  He nodded again.

  “Looks to me like you’ll be safer in jail. At least you’ll be alive.”

  He stared at me and then slowly nodded.

  “Before we call Tony in, we might want to take off his handcuffs and remove the other stuff,” Molly said. “We don’t want it to look like we forced him to confess.”

  I took out my Glock from my backpack and pointed it at Jamie. Molly reached under the sheets and tugged on something. Jamie squirmed and then relaxed. Molly unlocked the cuffs.

  Jamie sat up and pulled out his mouth gag. He stared at me. “Do I know you?”

  “You should. You tried to blow me up.”

  He turned to Molly. “Then who the fuck are you?”

  Molly pulled off her black wig and shook out her blond hair. His eyes widened as he watched her.

  “Like Tina just said, you should know me too.” Her accent was gone.

  “But…” he stammered.

  Molly tossed his clothes to him. “Get dressed, darlin’.”

  He stood up and did as he was told.

  I opened the door and beckoned for Tony to join us in the room. I told him Jamie wanted to confess to burning down his apartment building.

  “Not trying to blow you up too?” Tony asked.

  “I don’t want to testify in his trial and be associated with him in any way.”

  “Hubby might not like that?” Tony asked.

  “Something like that,” I said.

  “You good with this?” Tony asked Jamie.

  “Yeah,” Jamie grumbled.

  I pushed the record button on my phone. Tony recited his name, badge number, time, and date. He then read Jamie his rights.

  “Do you understand your rights?” Tony asked.

  “Yeah, I do,” Jamie said.

  “Do you want a lawyer?” Tony asked.

  “No.”

  We had one crime we could pin on him: arson. Tony asked him about it. Jamie told him details only he would know about how he burned down the building.

  We had him.

  I stopped the recording. Tony cuffed Jamie and led him into the main room.

  “Liv is babysitting. She needs to leave in an hour, so I have to change and get home,” Molly said.

  I stepped into the living room. Molly closed the bedroom door. Eight minutes later, she walked out with a large Louis Vuitton tote slung over her shoulder. She wore white sweat pants, a red tank top, and flip-flops. She had removed her makeup, eyelashes, and brown contacts. Her blond hair was now in a ponytail.

  Jamie lunged at Molly and me. “Fuck both of you!”

  Tony grabbed his arm and shoved him toward the door. “Button it, slick.”

  I remembered that line from fourteen years ago when he helped arrest Dr. Mick Doyle, the “Fat Doctor.”

  I wondered how many times he’d used it during that interval.

  “Send me the video,” Tony said.

  “I will. Do you think you can make this stick?”

  Tony prodded Jamie in the back. “Any comment on that?”

  “I’m guilty. I want a speedy trial, and I want to go to jail.”

  “Wish catching bad guys was always this easy,” Tony said.

  Tony pushed Jamie through the door and left.

  “What can I say, Molly?” I asked. “You saved my life, maybe all of our lives.” I gave her a hug.

  “The only way we could protect ourselves and our kids was to get him arrested,” she said. “I know how men think, so I did what I do best. It was actually pretty easy.”