trace the individual components back to their source is next to impossible. And what hardware store doesn’t carry duct tape and wire? It’s all pretty generic stuff.”
“And what about the explosive itself?” I asked.
“You can find it in just about any school chemistry lab. Again, pretty generic stuff. The actual putting it all together probably takes a little research, but that wouldn’t be difficult for someone with any real desire to figure out how it’s done. And all the other components could be picked up in almost any hardware store.”
“Any prints on anything you recovered?”
Dan shook his head. “Nope. Whoever did it wasn’t a dummy.”
“How long would it take to install a bomb?” I asked.
Carpenter shrugged. “Once it was all put together? Maybe five, ten minutes. Bomb under the seat, wire from bomb to ignition—that’s the part that takes the most time.”
“Yeah, but wouldn’t Grant have immediately noticed a wire running from under the seat up to the ignition?” I asked. “I can’t see how he could have missed it.”
“Well, whoever did it slit the carpet just enough to run the wire under it, all the way up the firewall. We found small pieces of duct tape, which was probably used to hide the wire where it came out from under the carpet and ran along the passenger’s side of the steering column.”
“Seems to me the bomber took quite a risk of being caught,” I said. “Somebody could easily have seen him screwing around under the dashboard,” I said. “And he had to be pretty confident that Grant wouldn’t show up.”
“Well,” Carpenter said, “we think the plant probably was done in two stages. Most likely most of it was done while Jefferson was at work—employees park in the same lot as cars brought in for service, so it wouldn’t be unusual to see someone monkeying around inside one of them. We think he might have gotten most of it done except for the actual connection to the ignition switch when something scared him off.
“Most likely he followed Jefferson after work, waiting for the chance to make the final connection. He obviously couldn’t risk it in the supermarket parking lot, but when he saw Jefferson come out and drive off with another guy, he probably figured out what was going on and that he’d have more than enough time while the car was parked at the trick’s house. Jefferson was leaving the guy’s place when he triggered the bomb.”
“Was this guy someone Grant knew, or a pickup?” I asked.
“He’s just some kid who works at the supermarket. He said he’d met Jefferson as he was getting off work and that he invited him over. He claimed he’d never seen Jefferson before, and his story checked out. One of his buddies from the supermarket had seen the pick-up.”
“Sounds like something Grant would do,” I said. “You’ve talked to Crandall Booth, I understand.”
“Within an hour of the explosion,” Marty said. “And while he appeared to be duly shocked by the news, he wasn’t too helpful. According to him, Jefferson was simply a friend from Atlanta staying with him, and he claimed he knew very little about Jefferson’s private life. We took that one with about three pounds of salt.
“He claimed he hadn’t left work until around eight and that checked out. So, he wouldn’t have had time to make it from work to the fifteen-hundred block of East Monroe to hook up the bomb. But anyone with his money could easily have hired someone else to do the job for him. We’re looking very closely at his recent financial transactions. It’s beginning to look like he has a rather serious gambling problem.”
“Partly based on that, we also briefly considered whether Booth might have been the target rather than Jefferson,” Dan added. “It was his car, after all, and a man that rich, especially one with a gambling addiction, has to have enemies.”
“Yeah,” Marty added, “but since the bomb had to have been connected to the
“And what about the explosive itself?” I asked.
“You can find it in just about any school chemistry lab. Again, pretty generic stuff. The actual putting it all together probably takes a little research, but that wouldn’t be difficult for someone with any real desire to figure out how it’s done. And all the other components could be picked up in almost any hardware store.”
“Any prints on anything you recovered?”
Dan shook his head. “Nope. Whoever did it wasn’t a dummy.”
“How long would it take to install a bomb?” I asked.
Carpenter shrugged. “Once it was all put together? Maybe five, ten minutes. Bomb under the seat, wire from bomb to ignition—that’s the part that takes the most time.”
“Yeah, but wouldn’t Grant have immediately noticed a wire running from under the seat up to the ignition?” I asked. “I can’t see how he could have missed it.”
“Well, whoever did it slit the carpet just enough to run the wire under it, all the way up the firewall. We found small pieces of duct tape, which was probably used to hide the wire where it came out from under the carpet and ran along the passenger’s side of the steering column.”
“Seems to me the bomber took quite a risk of being caught,” I said. “Somebody could easily have seen him screwing around under the dashboard,” I said. “And he had to be pretty confident that Grant wouldn’t show up.”
“Well,” Carpenter said, “we think the plant probably was done in two stages. Most likely most of it was done while Jefferson was at work—employees park in the same lot as cars brought in for service, so it wouldn’t be unusual to see someone monkeying around inside one of them. We think he might have gotten most of it done except for the actual connection to the ignition switch when something scared him off.
“Most likely he followed Jefferson after work, waiting for the chance to make the final connection. He obviously couldn’t risk it in the supermarket parking lot, but when he saw Jefferson come out and drive off with another guy, he probably figured out what was going on and that he’d have more than enough time while the car was parked at the trick’s house. Jefferson was leaving the guy’s place when he triggered the bomb.”
“Was this guy someone Grant knew, or a pickup?” I asked.
“He’s just some kid who works at the supermarket. He said he’d met Jefferson as he was getting off work and that he invited him over. He claimed he’d never seen Jefferson before, and his story checked out. One of his buddies from the supermarket had seen the pick-up.”
“Sounds like something Grant would do,” I said. “You’ve talked to Crandall Booth, I understand.”
“Within an hour of the explosion,” Marty said. “And while he appeared to be duly shocked by the news, he wasn’t too helpful. According to him, Jefferson was simply a friend from Atlanta staying with him, and he claimed he knew very little about Jefferson’s private life. We took that one with about three pounds of salt.
“He claimed he hadn’t left work until around eight and that checked out. So, he wouldn’t have had time to make it from work to the fifteen-hundred block of East Monroe to hook up the bomb. But anyone with his money could easily have hired someone else to do the job for him. We’re looking very closely at his recent financial transactions. It’s beginning to look like he has a rather serious gambling problem.”
“Partly based on that, we also briefly considered whether Booth might have been the target rather than Jefferson,” Dan added. “It was his car, after all, and a man that rich, especially one with a gambling addiction, has to have enemies.”
“Yeah,” Marty added, “but since the bomb had to have been connected to the
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