The Nitrogen Murder by Camille Minichino

cocked her head and smiled at me. “She won’t be coming to the wedding, in case you’re wondering.”
    I realized I knew few wedding details. I was embarrassed to ask, in case Elaine had already told me the vital statistics by phone or e-mail. How many guests? What time of day in the Rose Garden? Who was performing the ceremony? I knew Dana was Phil’s “best man,” but were she and I the only attendants?
    But more than wedding data, I wanted to know what was going on at the Berkeley PD. I knew Matt had called ahead to tell—warn?—Inspector Dennis Russell that he’d be accompanying Dana. I imagined Russell welcoming Matt graciously. Let me show you the files, I heard. And please bring Gloria to help us with the investigation . My imagination wouldn’t quit these days; the California sun was doing strange things to my brain.
    I couldn’t wait for the fog to roll in.
     
    We skipped the idea of sitting in an un-air-conditioned coffee shop and drove directly from the linen lady’s shop to Elaine’s. I headed straight for the pitcher of iced coffee in the refrigerator and poured us each a glass.
    Elaine’s answering machine was blinking 4. The first call, from a colleague at work, annoyed her.
    “Elaine, this is Dave Hamill. I need to talk to you about some of the edits you made to my input for the annual report. I don’t think we need to spell out those acronyms. Everyone who reads this will know
what they stand for. If they don’t they should be taken off the distribution list. Anyway, call me back …”
    “Typical,” Elaine said. “I’m on vacation,” she shouted to the machine, giving the NEXT button a sharp push.
    Dana called to say thank you for the massage, claiming to be totally looking forward to it and to being so not ready to just go back to work.
    Two messages were for me, from Revere. Elaine and I stared at the machine as we heard Rose, in a panic over an explosion. Someone had planted a bomb under a hearse belonging to O’Neal’s Funeral Home in. Chelsea.
    “It’s terrible,” she said. “At least the vehicle was empty, but these people will stop at nothing, and I just know we’re next. Frank and Robert are with the police now, to see if there’s anything preventive we can do.” A big sigh. “Well, I’m sorry to be always bringing bad news. I’m sure everything there is rosy and beautiful and I wish I were there, or you were here, not that I’d want you to miss the wedding …”
    Rose rambled for a few more seconds. Ordinarily I would have called her back immediately upon hearing something so dramatic as an exploding hearse in my hometown. But the next message on Elaine’s machine precluded that.
    It was from Andrea, and it caused an explosion between Elaine and me.

CHAPTER TEN
    D ana plunked down on a comfortable chair in Dr. Ann Barnett’s waiting room. The office was in a modern building by the bay, the decor a welcoming pale green with soft lighting and ferns that were the healthy version of what hung in her house. A big improvement over Julia Strega’s industrial digs. Not for the first time, Dana wished Valley Med would spring for an upgrade to the EMT lounge.
    Matt arrived a few minutes after Dana. HAVE A SUPPORTER ACCOMPANY YOU TO THE SESSION, TO BE THERE FOR YOU WHEN THE SESSION IS OVER, the pamphlet said, in deep blue. No one had asked her, “Why Matt, whom you’ve known all of two days?” But she knew everyone was wondering, why not Dad, or Elaine, or one of her EMT friends?
    For one thing, Matt was also an ES worker, in a sense, but not another Valley Med employee. His telling her about his own CI when he was a rookie had moved Dana. Matt had been so open, though he’d just met her, and she knew he was sincere, not playing a game to make her feel better.
    Also—and she had to admit this was a big factor—in a couple of weeks, Matt would be three thousand miles away, unable to embarrass Dana or remind her of this ordeal.
    They greeted each other with a hug,