guns do that to you—but you don’t want to be on the receiving end of their multiple rocket launchers.
“We’re not going to have those guys come looking for their stuff, are we?”
“Not to worry, Lieutenant. I’ll make sure everything’s back where it should be before they return.”
“Who furnished the PowerBars?”
“Buddy Thompson at the gym. He ordered a dozen case lots for the Military Marathon a few months back. Some doofus in central purchasing screwed up and bought two dozen by mistake. Bud’s been trying to get rid of ’em ever since.”
His chair squeaking, Noel leaned back and looked around me.
“Charlie didn’t come in with you? I told him I would take him to get his truck.”
“You’ll have to take me, instead. Charlie made an emergency exit last night.”
“Huh?”
I heard arrival sounds and delayed an explanation. “I’ll tell you about it at confab. We’d better grab a refill before Pen dumps the coffee and boils up some milk-weed and chrysanthemums or something.”
Noel was already on his feet. We managed to snag fresh cups before a tch-tch ing Pen did her thing with the canisters and coffeemaker. When everyone had squeezed into my office for our morning session, I informed them that the perpetrator of yesterday’s electrical blowout had flown the coop.
“Charlie had a couple of visitors last night. One came after us with a lead pipe. The other arrived a few moments later and . . .”
“Whoa! Back up a sec, Geardo Goddess!”
Dennis thumbed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. He was wearing all black today. Black high-tops, black jeans, black T-shirt displaying an ornate, medieval-style chess piece tipped on its side. Abstruse metaphors and symbols usually go right over my head but even I grasped that he was in mourning for his ruined Garry Kasparov poster.
“Someone attacked you and Charlie?” he echoed, bug-eyed. “With a pipe?”
When I nodded, Pen clucked her tongue in dismay. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”
“I wasn’t, but Charlie took a nasty hit. So did my Sebring,” I added glumly.
I gave my team the details as I knew them. No one seemed particularly surprised to hear Charlie owed big bucks to the Mob. Or that he’d hoped that I would bail him out with a cut of the reward money.
The reason he’d gone into debt earned another tongue cluck from Pen and raised brows among the men. Particularly when I told them Brenda Baby had descended on the scene all hyper and scared and carried Charlie off with her even before the cops arrived.
“They left you holding the bag?” Noel said.
“The bag and his truck.”
“Huh. I kinda liked Charlie, but they shouldn’t have skipped on you like that.”
I chose not to remind him this wasn’t the first time my ex and Brenda had done wrong by me. I was more interested in getting my team’s opinion of Junior Reporter’s post-incident speculation.
I was hoping they would collectively pooh-pooh the idea that I might have been the target of the attack, not Charlie. To my chagrin, the possibility produced an assortment of worried frowns and pursed lips.
“There could be a connection,” Rocky said slowly. “Did the man who attacked you say anything?”
“Just ‘get in the car.’ I figured he mistook me for Brenda and planned to hold me as surety until Charlie came up with cash. It didn’t occur to me to wonder if Pipe Guy could be connected to the Duarte mess until Cub Reporter DeWayne suggested it.”
“Have you discussed this possibility with Mitch?”
“Not yet. He’s out of town and we didn’t connect last night.”
“How about your friend at the FBI?”
“I guess I could call him,” I said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
“Do it,” Rocky urged with a nervous twitch. His thin shoulders hunched under his short-sleeved shirt. “You don’t want to take unnecessary—”
He was interrupted by the jangle of my cell phone. I eyed the number on caller ID and groaned.
“Oh,
“We’re not going to have those guys come looking for their stuff, are we?”
“Not to worry, Lieutenant. I’ll make sure everything’s back where it should be before they return.”
“Who furnished the PowerBars?”
“Buddy Thompson at the gym. He ordered a dozen case lots for the Military Marathon a few months back. Some doofus in central purchasing screwed up and bought two dozen by mistake. Bud’s been trying to get rid of ’em ever since.”
His chair squeaking, Noel leaned back and looked around me.
“Charlie didn’t come in with you? I told him I would take him to get his truck.”
“You’ll have to take me, instead. Charlie made an emergency exit last night.”
“Huh?”
I heard arrival sounds and delayed an explanation. “I’ll tell you about it at confab. We’d better grab a refill before Pen dumps the coffee and boils up some milk-weed and chrysanthemums or something.”
Noel was already on his feet. We managed to snag fresh cups before a tch-tch ing Pen did her thing with the canisters and coffeemaker. When everyone had squeezed into my office for our morning session, I informed them that the perpetrator of yesterday’s electrical blowout had flown the coop.
“Charlie had a couple of visitors last night. One came after us with a lead pipe. The other arrived a few moments later and . . .”
“Whoa! Back up a sec, Geardo Goddess!”
Dennis thumbed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. He was wearing all black today. Black high-tops, black jeans, black T-shirt displaying an ornate, medieval-style chess piece tipped on its side. Abstruse metaphors and symbols usually go right over my head but even I grasped that he was in mourning for his ruined Garry Kasparov poster.
“Someone attacked you and Charlie?” he echoed, bug-eyed. “With a pipe?”
When I nodded, Pen clucked her tongue in dismay. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”
“I wasn’t, but Charlie took a nasty hit. So did my Sebring,” I added glumly.
I gave my team the details as I knew them. No one seemed particularly surprised to hear Charlie owed big bucks to the Mob. Or that he’d hoped that I would bail him out with a cut of the reward money.
The reason he’d gone into debt earned another tongue cluck from Pen and raised brows among the men. Particularly when I told them Brenda Baby had descended on the scene all hyper and scared and carried Charlie off with her even before the cops arrived.
“They left you holding the bag?” Noel said.
“The bag and his truck.”
“Huh. I kinda liked Charlie, but they shouldn’t have skipped on you like that.”
I chose not to remind him this wasn’t the first time my ex and Brenda had done wrong by me. I was more interested in getting my team’s opinion of Junior Reporter’s post-incident speculation.
I was hoping they would collectively pooh-pooh the idea that I might have been the target of the attack, not Charlie. To my chagrin, the possibility produced an assortment of worried frowns and pursed lips.
“There could be a connection,” Rocky said slowly. “Did the man who attacked you say anything?”
“Just ‘get in the car.’ I figured he mistook me for Brenda and planned to hold me as surety until Charlie came up with cash. It didn’t occur to me to wonder if Pipe Guy could be connected to the Duarte mess until Cub Reporter DeWayne suggested it.”
“Have you discussed this possibility with Mitch?”
“Not yet. He’s out of town and we didn’t connect last night.”
“How about your friend at the FBI?”
“I guess I could call him,” I said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
“Do it,” Rocky urged with a nervous twitch. His thin shoulders hunched under his short-sleeved shirt. “You don’t want to take unnecessary—”
He was interrupted by the jangle of my cell phone. I eyed the number on caller ID and groaned.
“Oh,
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