Unlucky 13(75)

I had wanted Timko to scoff. To say that this latest bomb was all hers and Walter’s, that there was no accomplice, no copycat. That one of their bombs had been sitting in a freezer until it was slapped onto the grill and served up to a soldier.

I especially wanted her to tell me if there were other bombs out there lying dormant in Chuck’s kitchens, and that she knew where they were and that she’d trade that information for a deal.

But no.

I wasn’t playing Timko.

She was playing me.

Still, she was telling me her motive for the killings. She did it for the power: over her victims, over the police, over the heads of Chuck’s, over the FBI, and over me.

She was grinning, and I felt the twist, like a knife between my ribs. The more bombs that went off while she and her brother were in jail, the better it was for them.

She said, “I had nothing to do with any bombs, Sergeant. And you can’t prove anything. In fact, our attorneys are going to call this ‘reasonable doubt.’

“Problem solved, right?”

She winked, then called out toward the barred door.

“Bubbleen, get your fat ass in here. Sergeant Boxer and I are done.”

My husband is a modest guy, and he’s almost always right. He’d said to me after the first bombs, “Sooner or later, the bomber is going to take credit.”

Well. Hadn’t happened yet.

As soon as I got out onto the street, I called Jacobi.

When he answered, I shouted into my phone, “Jacobi. Timko admitted nothing, but bombs are gonna go off. Call the FBI. Call the mayor. Get Chuck’s closed! Every last Chuckburger has to be recalled so no one else dies.”

Jacobi snuck in a few words edgewise.

“Exactly right,” I said. “We nail them on hindering prosecution, interfering with a police officer, reckless endangerment, everything else we’ve got. We buy time. We buy time and find the one forgotten thing. We find the thing that proves that she and Walter made those damned dirty bombs.”





PART FIVE


HIGH NOON





CHAPTER 103


JOE CALLED OUT to me from the foyer, “I’ll be back in an hour, Blondie. And that’s a promise, more or less.”

“Godspeed,” I called back.

I was in a hurry, closing the snaps on Julie’s pastel-striped onesie and looking for her knitted hat with the daisy in front, when the phone rang. I’d ducked her calls too often.

“Cindy—hey.”

“Tell me everything,” she said.

I was glad to hear her voice. It had been a while.

“Joe’s picking up Martha from the vet and I’m using my lunch hour to take Julie to the park.”

Cindy laughed, said, “That’s fascinating, but I meant, tell me everything about Brady and Yuki.”

I only had time to give her the Twitter version, so no need to go off the record. I told her that Brady had made an appearance at the squad this morning and was going to be back on the job as soon as he was able to pull a full day.

“Lost part of his ear,” I told her. “An earlobe. Four broken ribs, too, but he’s going to be fine.”

“Whoaaa. And Yuki?”

“Yuki is down to about two-thirds her fighting weight, which means she couldn’t go one round with a chicken. But she seems pretty good, all things considered. She’s going to take off work for a couple weeks.”

“Sure. She probably needs to sleep with both eyes closed.”

“She said the ground is still moving under her feet.”

Julie was fussing, gearing up for a tantrum. I picked her up while keeping the phone between my ear and shoulder. I unfolded the stroller with one hand and said to Cindy, “How are you? Just the headlines.”

“Everything is good, well, except for.” Cindy’s voice dropped. “Morales.”

I looked at the time. I had a meeting with Jacobi in forty-eight minutes and I hadn’t left the house.

Cindy was saying, “I still worry, you know. That she’s got it in for you.”

I said, “Please don’t worry about me, Cindy. Please? I’m a cop. I carry a gun. And now I’ve got a playdate with my bossy baby girl.”

We said good-bye and I strapped my precious daughter into her stroller.

“Wow, you look amazing with that hat,” I said. “Hold it.”

I got my phone. I took Julie’s picture and sent it to Joe.

“Are you ready?” I asked Julie.

And then I said her lines, too.

“‘Ready? It’s about time you got off the danged phone. I certainly am ready to go to the park, Mom.’

“All right, baby girl. Let’s go.”





CHAPTER 104


THE SUNLIGHT WAS soft and the air was scented with eucalyptus. In fact, I could almost smell the ocean, too, as I walked Julie’s stroller through my neighborhood, its diversity reflected in the restaurants and shops.