Blonde Bomb Tech

by Lara Santiago

  “Once I get it loaded and running, it will just take time to go through all the records and match the request.”

  “Call me on my cell when you get a hit,” Sabrina said.

  “Okay.”

  “And I owe you.” Sabrina added.

  “Yes, you do and now you will owe me more.” Raquel nodded, smiling again as she practically made smoke come off the computer keys. Raquel had beautifully manicured nails. Sabrina wondered how she kept them looking so terrific after all the typing she did. Another one of life’s girly mysteries she’d never solved.

  The three of them stepped out into the hallway and right into the path of Captain Hennessey.

  “I thought you all might be down here,” He gloated.

  “How?” Sabrina asked.

  “You left the bomb pieces laid out in the investigation room along with a nervous dispatcher who told me where you went. Besides, I knew you’d be too chicken to check it out on your own computer, so I assumed I would find you right here anyway. See how smart I am?”

  “I didn’t want to be kicked off the investigation again,” Sabrina said hotly.

  “Really? Well, with the earlier display I wondered at your diabolical plan to stay on board. At what point did you come up with the brilliant vomit plan?”

  “I drank bad coffee for breakfast. I was sick. I tried to leave. He grabbed me. You think maybe I’ve broken him of that nasty habit now?”

  “I think you better get prepared to make another formal apology,” Hennessey countered and put his hands on his hips.

  “I’ll think about it.” Sabrina looked down when she heard her cell phone chirping. Hennessey signed long and dramatically.

  “This is Morgan.”

  “Hello Sabrina, it’s me, Raquel. I found your logo.”

  “You’re kidding all ready. What is it?”

  “The logo is for Linden House Canning. You know them right?”

  “Linden House Canning? Yeah, I know them. Do you happen to have the address handy?”

  “100 Grove Lane

  ”

  “Thanks, Raquel.” Sabrina hung up.

  Whoa, Sabrina thought with surprise. She knew the Linden House Canning logo because they were also one of the richest local families. The Lindens had made their money way back in local history by developing tin canned goods with a special seal that held in the freshness of the vegetables they canned. Their first big successful product with mass appeal was canned pumpkin. Later on they used the pumpkin logo on everything they produced, whether it be green beans, carrots or tomato sauce. Each can of Linden House products, from the biggest to the smallest, had the logo on it.

  “The logo is from Linden House Canning. Let’s head over to their headquarters and ask some questions before I lose my job.”

  “Too late. You already lost your job, but I can’t officially tell you until I see you.” Hennessey put his hands over his eyes. “Hurry up and leave, so I don’t have to tell you.”

  “Thanks, Captain,” Sabrina said and patted him on the shoulder as she passed him.

  Sabrina, Murphy, and Brian quickly left the building and headed over to the corporate headquarters of Linden House Canning.

  * * * *

  “We’d like to talk to someone about your product logo. Who could help us with that?” Sabrina said holding up her city of Heathton bomb tech badge to the receptionist at the Linden House Canning corporate offices, who looked like a life-sized version of Receptionist Barbie, complete with plastic hair and a falsely interested smile plastered in place.

  Sabrina enjoyed the satisfying moment of minimal power when flashing her badge in an official capacity. Those she showed it to usually seemed impressed or at the very least uncomfortable. Besides, this might be the last time she got to whip it out and flash it in an official capacity. Receptionist Barbie didn’t react as expected.

  “Mr. Porter is the Director of Public Relations for the company.” The receptionist sat a little straighter in her seat. She had responded in a chirping voice, which came across as fake to Sabrina. The woman didn’t seem too impressed with Sabrina’s official badge so she pocketed it.

  “Great. Could you call him for us, please?”

  “I’ll see if he is available.” She turned away as the fake smile slipped from her face.

  Mr. Porter, a middle-aged, balding, harried manager-type, showed up a few minutes later and directed them into a small conference room by reception to answer their questions. He looked resigned to speaking with them, but not happy about his ‘busy’ schedule being broken up.

  “Do you recognize this?” Sabrina held out both the copy of the hand-drawn logo from the diary and a picture of the pieced together metal from the bomb at the Fireside Inn.

  “It looks like our logo,” he responded carefully.

  “The photo is of pieced together fragments from a bomb. The design of your logo seems to be etched into it. Do you have any product containers where the logo is etched into the metal?” Sabrina asked.

  “Not exactly,” the man countered as he tugged at his tie, making it lopsided for his efforts.

  “What exactly then?” Murphy asked.

  “The logo used to be stamped into the lids of all our canned goods, but that was over twenty years ago. The company decided it wasn’t a cost-effective practice back in the early eighties, so we now just have the logo on the labels.” The expression on his face let them know he didn't want to justify the company’s position on the cost-effectiveness of not stamping the lids.

  “Did you have any lids that would have been say twelve inches in diameter that were stamped?” Sabrina asked.

  “Well, all of our larger restaurant-sized lids for canned vegetables were about that big.”

  “Is there any way we could get a sample of one? Maybe tucked away in an old warehouse somewhere for comparison?” Murphy asked.

  “Possibly. I’ll call packaging and see. Do you want to wait?” Mr. Porter asked as several employees began gathering at the door to the conference room they were occupying. Mr. Porter looked at his watch and frowned as he explained, “I’m sorry, there’s a meeting scheduled in this room. Do you mind waiting out in the lobby?”

  “No. We’ll wait by reception,” Sabrina said, and exited through the conference room door behind him. They parted in the hallway and made their way to the lobby after Mr. Porter’s assurances he’d be right back.

  “Are we sure that the fragments are from the bomb device and not just some can of vegetables that got disintegrated in the blast?” Sabrina asked.

  “Well the report says the fragments were tested and showed residue from the explosives used,” Brian said.

  The three of them re-entered the Linden House Canning lobby from the conference room hallway as Councilman Peters also entered the lobby from outside. His face turned purple with instant anger as he approached them. Sabrina wondered what she’d done to the heavens above to deserve this surprising reunion. She’d hid so carefully and now her nemesis was here to greet her.

  “What are you doing here?” Sabrina asked incredulously. She couldn’t help it.

  “Ms. Morgan, the better question is why you are here? Captain Hennessey was supposed to talk to you.” He kept a safe distance from her.

  “We’re investigating the case. You know, the one with all the bombs being planted everywhere,” Murphy said hotly. “With all due respect sir, we need Sabrina on this case.”

  “That is not up to you…” The councilman started to say something more, but someone else had entered the lobby.

  “Holy shit,” Brian said under his breath. They all turned to face the man who’d exited a small private elevator behind the reception desk. He was an older man, possibly in his fifties, but with his wealth he appeared to be in his mid-to-late forties. His hair was stylishly graying at the temples and his thin frame was impeccably dressed in expensive everything, from his eyeglasses to his shoes. If Sabrina had had to discern what he was saying with his look it would be ‘hey look
at me, I’m rich.’

  “Councilman Peters,” the man greeted him, with a smile on his lips and warmly welcoming eyes until he caught sight of Sabrina. Then she noticed a glacial chill creep across his features. He had the breeding to keep the smile in place, but Sabrina noticed the smile no longer resided in his eyes. He then brightened up somewhat. “Have you brought the troops with you, Councilman?” he asked.

  The rich-looking man stuck out his hand and reached for Murphy first. “Do you have some more questions for me? If you do I’m afraid I’ll have to call my attorneys. You understand, of course.”

  “Of course,” Murphy said. “But we are here on another matter. Do you work here, Mr. Hollingsworth?”

  Sabrina perked up at hearing his name. Here was the infamous John Everett Hollingsworth the Third, of that she had no doubt. The man her mother had written she was frightened of to the point she ran away and hid. Given that the man had later been convicted of statutory rape made her think her mother might have taken the right approach.

  Murphy and Brian had met him a while back when she’d been on her forced vacation, courtesy of the bomber.

  “Not exactly. My aunt, Margaret Linden, is the owner. I just help out when she’s out of the country, like now. One day when she gets tired and wants to retire, I’ll take over the reins, but for now I have other interests.” Hollingsworth looked directly at Sabrina when he’d said other interests.

  Great, she thought at first, another lecherous old man, but then revised her thinking. Hollingsworth didn’t look like he was that interested in her, and in fact seemed to dislike her. A distasteful look registered on his face as he watched her for a few moments more before he finally looked away from her. He turned back to Councilman Peters with a more guarded expression. What was that about?

  Just then Mr. Porter came back and reluctantly walked across to the group. “I’m sorry,” he said, directing his remark to Murphy, Brian and Sabrina, and glancing once at Mr. Hollingsworth nervously. “We do not have that particular lid any longer. Here is a picture of it along with the specifications of the fabrication,” He handed a piece of paper to Brian. “I hope this will help you. Call me if I can help you with anything else.” He held out his card for Sabrina.

  “Thanks for your time, Mr. Porter,” Sabrina said, taking the card he proffered. She was glad he didn’t hold out on them in light of Mr. Hollingsworth’s presence.

  “You’re Sabrina Morgan, aren’t you?” Mr. Hollingsworth suddenly asked.

  “Yes. I don’t believe we’ve met. How do you know my name?” Sabrina cut a look over at Peters who actually had the nerve to blush while looking superior all at the same time.

  “I saw the article in the paper about you meeting your long-lost sister, Suzanne, this morning, and then of course the other article regarding the difficulty you’ve had in defusing the bombs which have been plaguing the city in the last several weeks.” He tsk-tsked and looked at her with mock sympathy as he cited her supposed failure. What a slime ball. Plus he gave her the willies. An unnamed feeling danced up and down her spine as she watched Mr. Hollingsworth furtively. She’d only just met him and already wanted to run and hide…just like her mother.

  “Yes, well don’t believe everything you read in the papers Mr. Hollingsworth. Sometimes they don’t get it quite right.”

  Mr. Hollingsworth’s eyes narrowed. “Really?” he asked with exaggerated interest. “Do you have an example you might share with me?”

  “I’m sure all the reports in the papers twenty-three years ago about your unfortunate incident with that sixteen-year-old were not completely accurate. Or were they?” The surprised look on his face made Sabrina think Hollingsworth’s head was going to suddenly blow off his shoulders he got so red in the face. Apparently, he was expecting her newspaper example as a way to defend herself.

  “I think it’s time you were going,” Councilman Peters said to the three of them, but most especially to Sabrina. She turned to avoid the angry glare from Hollingsworth, until he spoke again.

  “I hope you get better at your job, Miss Blond Bomber, or you may be the one trying in vain to save yourself from…the next bomb set. I hope you don’t fail again.”

  Sabrina froze in her tracks and looked back at him. “What makes you think there will be another bomb set, Mr. Hollingsworth?” The mad bomber had spoken similar words to her the other night before he’d hung up on her. Almost verbatim, with the same attitude and everything. Hollingsworth remained silent, his stormy angry eyes betraying the calmness he was attempting to exude.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter. It isn’t likely to happen anyway, as I’m not on the bomb squad any longer. I’ve been temporarily pulled from duty, due to the negative press I’m getting in the media.” Sabrina looked straight at Councilman Peters when she said it. “Rest assured, Mr. Hollingsworth, whoever is setting the bombs which are plaguing the city, I won’t be there trying in vain to save anyone. Least of all myself.”

  Councilman Peters shuffled Mr. Hollingsworth away before he could answer her query of why he expected another bomb to be set. Sabrina didn’t move. She watched the two self important men, one hustling the other across the expensive tile floor, until they disappeared into the private elevator behind the reception desk. Hollingsworth turned to catch her watching him and before the elevator doors closed, he gave her an evil smile. Sabrina had a revelation as she watched the elevator doors close.

  Hollingsworth was the mad bomber.

  “It’s him. He killed my parents and he’s after me now,” Sabrina said when they got back in the car. It was late afternoon by now and the air-conditioner was making a feeble attempt at cooling them. Brian’s head and forearms hung over the front bench seat in an effort to get closer to the air conditioning vent.

  “What?” Murphy asked incredulously as he turned a vent to blow on his face directly.

  “What Hollingsworth just said? It was what the bomber said to me the other night when I was talking to him at the Orphanage site. Almost verbatim.”

  “He may be the one in the last couple of weeks, but you yourself researched and know he can’t be the one from the Fireside Inn,” Murphy said.

  “The Linden House Canning Company is sure a coincidence though, don’t you think?” Brian asked from the back seat. “I mean, what are the odds that the bomb fragments are from the lid of a can produced by a company where Hollingsworth has a connection?”

  “It’s him. From before and now.” Sabrina stared out the window, thinking about her mother. Had Hollingsworth tried to violate Maggie Morgan before she ran away from him? Did he succeed? Sabrina shook off the errant vile thought. Why would her mother decorate her diary with the logo of a place connected to him? Was it a warning? Had she gotten a warning the day of the explosion? Another important thought popped into her head. She nearly said, “Ah ha.”

  “Where do you want to go next, Sabrina?” Murphy asked as she was having her epiphany.

  “I think we should look into the Fireside Inn bombing some more. We need to dig deeper. Is there any one from that day who survived and witnessed anything going on inside the restaurant?” Sabrina asked.

  “We’ve read all the eye-witness accounts. No one saw anything. Everyone just heard a big loud boom and then…chaos,” Murphy said quietly.

  “Did anyone go back and get statements from the people who were removed from the scene unconscious and hospitalized, but not dead?” Sabrina asked.

  “I don’t know. What might these people have seen that we need to check out?” Murphy’s eyebrows scrunched up in question.

  “I want to know what made my parents predict there would be an explosion. Why did they throw their bodies over me and save my life? How did they know to do that?”

  Murphy was quiet for a moment thinking over what she’d brought up. “Good question. I never thought about it.”

  “Maybe it’s just a little more personal for me.” Sabrina quietly stared off out the window at the Linden House Canning facility and the e
vil man ensconced within.

  The three of them went back to the office to review the statements from people injured in the Fireside Inn. Captain Hennessey came through the office as they worked, noted their presence, but didn’t approach them to talk. He put his hands over his eyes again from his open office door and then smiled as they continued working. Sabrina was glad he was on her side, but knew the minute Councilman Peters called or stopped by, she might be out on her ass again.

  Until that time, Sabrina was determined to solve these crimes. They each took files from the boxes to review and made three separate lists of names and last known addresses for all the injured people. Combining the lists as they checked for current addresses on the witnesses still alive from a search on the computer’s obituary database. They had narrowed the list to twenty-one people after a couple of hours. Once the list was compiled, Sabrina noted there was one person on the injured list who was a very surprising discovery.

  Alice Henderson, the crazy bun in the oven lady, was listed as a casualty of the explosion who’d been taken to the hospital that same day, wandering around the scene of the bombsite in a daze. She’d been taken to and treated at St. Catherine’s, the same hospital as Maggie Morgan and Suzanne.

  Mrs. Henderson’s address was listed as the apartment building, which had been partially destroyed from the recent explosion, but they all knew she was staying with her son until he could find a place for her. The apartment building where Alice had been living was still in insurance hell limbo. Adjusters were working long hours trying to determine if it was better to knock the old building down and start over or try and fix the several apartments ruined in the blast. They dug up Alice’s son’s address to add to their list.

  Sabrina followed closely by Brian and Murphy as they went and knocked on Hennessey’s door to give him a progress report. Plus Sabrina wanted to mention their Councilman Peters slash Mr. Hollingsworth accidental meeting before he heard another version. Sabrina was actually surprised the Councilman hadn’t called already. Captain Hennessey was just getting off the phone, but had motioned them in to his office when they knocked.