by J A Whiting
“From what the chief told you, do you have an idea who this might be?” Angie asked.
“I might have, but I can’t accuse anyone until I know more,” Bruce told them.
“Have Dave Hanes or Joe Boles caused any more trouble at work?” Courtney questioned.
Bruce leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh. “Since you’re working with the police, I’ll tell you. I fired both of them yesterday.”
Angie sat up. “You did? Why?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Bruce told them the reasons. “There’s an employee room in here. Most guys come by in the morning before they head off to their assignments for the day. They have coffee, get their assignments, talk with the other guys, pick up equipment, and head out. Yesterday morning, Dave and Joe had another altercation. They were yelling, arguing, and then Joe punched Dave and a fist-fight broke out. Those two can’t control themselves when they’re together. It was a toxic situation that threatened to infect the other employees so I had to end it. They’re both skilled workers, but that doesn’t matter if they’re going to wreak havoc here at work.”
“How did they handle being let go?” A tingle of worry nagged at Angie.
“Dave listened to my reasoning, then he nodded, accepted the paperwork, got up and left. He didn’t say a word. I felt bad about it. The way he took it, made me feel worse.”
“And Joe Boles?” Courtney asked. “How did he take it?”
“Not as well. At least, not as quietly.” Bruce shook his head. “He ranted at me, told me it was all Dave’s fault. He said Dave was always the instigator. Dave was quiet so nobody noticed how he needled Joe. Honestly? I don’t believe a single word of it. Joe had it in for Dave. He couldn’t stand Dave staying to himself, acting shy, being so introverted. I don’t know way it bothered Joe so much, but that’s what it was like. I couldn’t let one go and not the other. They both have blame in the game.”
“Did Joe calm down and leave?”
“He didn’t really calm down.” Bruce looked stressed recalling the morning. “I told him his yelling was unacceptable and that he’d have to leave. I told him to write me an email outlining his complaints. I told him to email a copy to the state department of labor and file a complaint against me. Joe got a gleam in his eye when he heard that. He cursed at me a few more times, and then he stormed out.”
“Chief Martin told you that Mary Foley reported that a man in a restaurant parking lot who harassed them and followed them home was wearing a shirt from your company. If the man didn’t work here, how could someone get hold of a company shirt?” Angie questioned.
Bruce shrugged. “I guess it could be someone who used to work here. Or maybe one of my employees lent a brother or a friend a shirt? We gave some away at a 10k race we sponsored last spring, but those were t-shirts. Was the shirt the guy had on a polo or a t-shirt?”
“I don’t know. We can find out.” Courtney wrote a reminder in her notebook.
“Do you know Dennis Leeds?” Angie asked. “He’s a plumber who lives in town.”
“I don’t think so.” Bruce shook his head, but stopped. “Wait, wasn’t he one of the bomber’s victims?”
“He found the package in his mailbox, but he didn’t pick it up. Do you have a list of the people who entered the 10k race?”
“I don’t. The race organizer would have that. I believe they keep the information on file,” Bruce told Angie. “I can give you the name of the organizer.”
Angie thanked him. “Do you have any concerns that Dave Hanes or Joe Boles will retaliate against you for letting them go?”
Bruce frowned. “I didn’t … until you just brought it up.”
“Do you think either one of the men is capable of doing something in anger because he was fired?” Courtney asked.
“I suppose so. The way they behaved towards each other is a red flag, I guess. I never gave it any thought.” Bruce shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Do you think I’d better watch out? Do you think I should be on guard?”
“I don’t think it would hurt to be watchful,” Angie chose her words carefully.
“Great.” Bruce ran his hand over his face. “As if I don’t have enough on my mind, now I have to watch my back in case one of those guys has to act out his anger.” His eyes widened and he stared at the sisters. “You aren’t thinking that Dave or Joe could actually be the bomber, are you?”
“We just gather information for the police,” Courtney fibbed a little. “We really don’t know who the police suspect.”
24
Euclid and Circe watched from the top of the refrigerator while Angie mixed the ingredients for a chocolate pie. The details of the case ran through her mind as she worked. So much of her and the family’s suspicions revolved around speculation and not much in the way of concrete facts.
They needed more information. Chief Martin and Chief Peterson were still negotiating with the hospital for the name of the man who threatened Carol Leeds, and Chief Martin had requested the names of the participants of Solana’s spring 10k road race since shirts with Blue Sky Painting on them had been given out that day to the runners.
But where are the connections between the victims?
Angie knew that Dave Hanes and Joe Boles had been working at the Reynolds’s house, but Dennis and Carol Leeds hadn’t had any painting done at their home. Agnes Shield’s husband told the police they hadn’t hired anyone to paint and neither had Jesse and Mary Foley.
Dave and Joe could only be linked to the Reynolds’s household.
Looking off into space, Angie rested her whisk on a small plate. How would the case be solved? How would they find the clues they needed? She hoped it wouldn’t be because the bomber got careless and left a clue when he targeted more people.
It has to stop before someone gets killed.
Angie spotted Courtney’s case spreadsheets and notes on the kitchen table and went over to look at them again. Thankfully, there were no new markers on the map indicating new victims. Angie reviewed the list of names, family members, addresses, and jobs Courtney had compiled. Her eyes moved from the map to the spreadsheet. And then, she noticed something in the spreadsheet notes she’d forgotten.
Agnes’s husband, Everett, mentioned that Agnes had been yelled at by a painter who was working across the street.
It must have been the same painter who had been rude to her and Jenna when they parked near the house momentarily. It must have been Joe Boles. The company doing the work nearby was Blue Sky.
Angie looked up and stared across the room at nothing.
Joe Boles and Dave Hanes were working across the street from the Shield’s house. Joe or Dave, if one of them was the bomber, may have chosen Agnes as a victim while working in the neighborhood.
Blue Sky might have connections to two of the victims. Could the company somehow have links to all of the victims?
Angie looked around the kitchen for Mr. Finch’s sketchbook, and then she remembered her sister had moved it to the sunroom desk. Before Angie went to look at it, she checked the time. Chief Martin had asked her and Jenna to meet him at Dave Hanes’s house for a short meeting, and Jenna would be by soon to pick her up.
Slipping some wrap over the bowl of batter, she put it into the refrigerator to bake later, and then she hurried to the sunroom with the cats racing after her.
Sitting in one of the easy chairs by the big windows, Angie steeled herself to look at Mr. Finch’s drawings. With each turn of a page, she became more anxious. Her heart pounded and her palms became sweaty.
Leaning closer, Angie realized what the pictures were trying to tell them all along. In each of the drawings, someone was standing on a ladder painting a building.
A painter.
That was the clue. All this time, the pictures were pointing them to a painter.
Euclid and Circe sat at attention on the rug looking up at Angie.
“The bomber is a painter,” she told the cats.
Euclid let out a loud
hiss, and Circe swished her tail back and forth.
“The bomber is either Joe Boles or Dave Hanes.”
Angie heard the front door open and Jenna call to her. “Angie? Are you ready to go?”
While Jenna drove, Angie chattered away about what she’d figured out.
“So you think it’s Dave or Joe?” Jenna asked. “How can you tie them to the other victims?”
“I can’t. Yet. But I know one of the painters is the bomber, and I know the bomber can be tied to everyone who has been targeted. We just need to figure out how. Maybe interviewing Dave today will give us the information we need.”
“Why does Chief Martin want to talk to him again?” Jenna asked.
Angie’s voice was excited. “I bet the chief and the other officers have a hunch Dave is the bomber, or they think he knows who the bomber is. Today’s the day we’re going to get answers. I can feel it.”
“What about Dennis Leeds?” Jenna asked.
Angie deflated. “I was so sure one of the painters is the bomber, I forgot about Dennis.” Letting out a moan, she said, “Lots of things point to Dennis as a suspect.”
“True. But Mr. Finch’s drawings seem to suggest a painter.”
“They do.” Angie perked up. “Let’s see how the interview goes. I bet we’re going to learn something important.” Turning to her sister, she asked, “Do you have feelings one way or the other?”
It took a few moments for Jenna to reply. “The closer we get to Dave Hanes’s house, the more nervous I feel.”
“Is it because I was telling you he’s a probable suspect?” Angie’s concern was growing.
“I don’t think it has anything to do with what you said. I’ve been on edge about this meeting all day.”
Angie’s heart dropped into her stomach as Jenna pulled the car to the curb in front of Dave’s house.
“I don’t see Chief Martin’s car.” Jenna cut the engine.
“He’ll be here soon.” Angie opened the door to get out. “Or maybe he got dropped off here by one of the officers.” She checked her phone for messages, but there was nothing from the chief.
Dave came out of the garage and walked over to them when he saw the sisters standing by their car. “Chief Martin isn’t here yet. Do you know why he wants to talk to me again?” He hadn’t even bothered to say hello to the young women.
“I think he just wants to go over a few things,” Angie said.
“What things?” Dave demanded.
“I really don’t know. Chief Martin asked us to come. He didn’t give us any details.”
“I got fired.” Dave’s face was sad and drawn.
Angie and Jenna pretended they hadn’t heard that Dave had lost his job.
“Did you?” Angie asked. “I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”
“It was that Joe Boles. He caused it. He’s always picking at me, making fun of me, saying rude things to make me feel bad.”
“Did Joe start some trouble?” Jenna questioned.
“He was always starting trouble.” Dave’s voice was loud and angry.
“What happened this time?”
“He was making fun of me for being quiet. He swore at me, pushed me, pretended to strangle me. I can’t stand him.” Dave’s hands had balled into fists.
“Maybe it will be better to work in a different place,” Angie suggested. “Maybe it’s good you won’t have to see Joe anymore.”
“It will be good, but I shouldn’t have been fired. Joe was the only one who should have been let go. Not me. I was only defending myself against him.”
“Could you talk to the owner once things have a chance to cool down?” Jenna asked. “Maybe you could tell him why you don’t think you should have been fired.”
“He should know that.” Dave’s face was bright red. “Why do I have to tell him?”
“It might help to talk to him,” Jenna said. “It might help you get your job back.”
Dave fumed for a few minutes. “Why doesn’t the chief show up?”
“He’ll be here soon.”
“Do you want to come see the garden again? I’m overrun with tomatoes. Can I give you some vegetables to take home?”
Angie was surprised Dave had calmed down so quickly. “Sure. That would be nice.”
“There are some baskets in the backyard,” Dave told them. “You can fill them with any vegetables you want.”
Following the man around the side of the house, little beads of nervous sweat started to trickle down Angie’s back. She moved closer to Jenna and with every step she took, she felt more panicked.
“Maybe we should wait for Chief Martin,” Angie said.
“Why?” Dave kept walking.
“He won’t know where we are.”
“He seems pretty smart. He’ll see your car. I think he’ll figure out that we’re in the yard.”
When they entered the rear yard, Dave pointed out which vegetables were where. “The lettuce is in the back. The carrots, beans, and cucumbers are over on that side. Tomatoes are on this side. There are baskets on the shelf by the door of the shed. Take whatever you want. Take some for the chief.”
The sisters walked through the rows of vegetables towards the shed, but before they picked up the baskets, Angie, feeling more nervous by the second, looked around the yard and whispered to Jenna, “Let’s go back to the car. We need to get out of here.”
25
“Where are you going?” Dave looked surprised that the sisters were heading away from the shed.
“I’m feeling a little dizzy. I’m going to sit in the car for a few minutes.” Angie touched her temple. It wasn’t really a lie since her head truly was buzzing.
“The car will be hot. Come in and sit in the house. I’ll get you some water.” Dave stared as the sisters kept walking away. “Is something wrong?”
Angie’s phone vibrated and she looked at the text. It was from the chief.
The hospital administrators gave us the name of the man who threatened Carol Leeds. It was Joe Boles. I’m on my way to Dave Hanes’s house to meet you.
Jenna gasped just as Angie was looking up from her phone.
When Angie saw who had come around the corner to the backyard, her heart dropped into her stomach.
Joe Boles. Wearing a backpack. He halted steps from the sisters. “Is the cop here?”
“Chief Martin is on his way.” Jenna tried to make her words sound forceful.
With an angry expression on his face, Dave hurried over to the three people and gave Joe an evil stare. “What are you doing here? You’re trespassing. Get off my property.”
“In a minute, I will. This won’t take long.” Joe grabbed Jenna by the arm.
“Let go of her,” Angie demanded while trying to get hold of the man’s arm, but Joe pushed her away.
Joe pulled a gun from the back of his waistband. “I could just go ahead and shoot the three of you, but I have a more fitting end.” A wicked grin crossed his mouth and he shoved Jenna against her sister. “Give me your phones. Get in the shed. Move.”
Dave started to shout obscenities at the man until Joe leveled the gun at him.
“Get going.”
Angie, Jenna, and Dave trudged to the shed. Joe pushed them inside, but not before leaving something on the floor. “Better not pick it up. Any little thing will set it off … especially vibrations from anyone trying to break down the door. Don’t worry though. It won’t be long, then your worries will be over. See you.” Joe gave them an ugly smile. “Or, maybe not.” He closed the door softly.
They could hear the lock click into place.
“We’re going to die.” Dave clutched at his head, backed up against the wall of the twelve-foot by twelve-foot windowless shed, and slipped down to the floor.
“Angie.” Jenna’s voice was soft. “I want our babies to live.”
Angie blinked away hot tears. “Think. We’re going to be okay.”
Jenna wore a sorrowful expression.
Angi
e whispered, “Months ago, my daughter’s spirit came to warn me about my safety. I know Gigi’s going to be born … and for her to be born, I have to live. We’re going to get out of this.”
Jenna looked into Angie’s eyes. “But, Gigi didn’t tell you I was going to get out of this.”
Angie took her sister’s hand. “I’m not leaving you and you aren’t going to be hurt.”
“Do something,” Dave wailed.
Angie whirled to the man. “Hush, you. Your screeching might set off the bomb.”
Jenna tip-toed around the space looking for some way to get out while Angie pushed on the door, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Is that thing ticking?” Jenna asked with wide eyes. “How much time do we have?”
A metallic whirring sound came from the rectangular box near the door.
“I don’t see a timer.” Angie asked Dave, “Do you have any tools in here?”
“On the shelf. In the box. What are you going to do? You can’t disable a bomb. Don’t get us killed.”
Angie went to the box on the metal shelf. “If we just stand here and do nothing, that’s exactly what’s going to happen to us.” She lifted two screwdrivers, a pair of pliers, a hammer, and a small crowbar from the container. “The door isn’t that sturdy. Let’s get it open.”
Jenna ran her hand over the door. “The hinges are on the outside, but the door is old and has pulled away from them. If we wiggle the crowbar into the space, maybe we can make it big enough to loosen the door from the hinges.”
Dave shuffled his feet across the old wooden floor. “Let me help.” He took a quick glance at the bomb and reached for the crowbar. He shoved it into the slit of space at the middle of the door and started to work it.
Angie knelt and used the claw end of the hammer to do the same thing Dave was doing, pulling and yanking to make the door loosen from the hinges.