A Grand Plan

by Ann Roberts

  “Hell, no. I’m not crazy. I threw it and jumped in my car and drove off. I have no idea how that rock managed to get out of Brown’s Diner.”

  A thought occurred to her. “Chynna, did you see Ms. Wonders on the day of the incident?”

  “I might’ve,” she admitted. “I saw her a lot after it happened, that’s for sure. It was like she knew what I’d done.”

  “I’m wondering if she did. I think she saw you throw the rock. And what if, after you drove away, she stepped through the broken window and picked it up? Do you think that’s possible?”

  She mulled the possibility. “Sure. When that rock went through it was like the entire window just dropped out of the frame. I had no idea that would happen. There were these huge jagged shards sticking up and down. It reminded me of those things in caves.”

  “Stalactites and stalagmites?”

  “Yeah, exactly. But there was definitely a hole big enough for someone to step through if they were careful.” She looked at her quizzically. “So if Ms. Wonders had the rock, how was she killed with it?”

  Ari shrugged, but as she took her leave, she thought it was no mystery. Whoever came to her room picked up that rock…and afterward took it, the knife, and Ms. Wonders’s notebook with him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Molly called the team together at five o’clock on Friday afternoon. Yoli made a point of standing with the group and not at the front with her. Her arms were crossed and she wore a look of contempt and defiance. Molly had prepared herself and wasn’t rattled by it. She checked her watch. Drew was late.

  “Where is he?” she asked Yoli.

  “I don’t know. I was with him earlier. I’ll call him.” She pulled out her cell and stepped away while Molly briefed the crew about their assignments. They dispersed and Molly rejoined Yoli.

  She shook her head. “He’s not answering. I’ll go to his house.”

  “No,” Molly disagreed firmly.

  “Yes.”

  She stared Yoli down. “You need to get out to LGA.”

  She stepped into Molly’s personal space, a tactic that previously crumpled Molly’s resolve. “I’m not leaving. Drew was my responsibility. I need to find him.”

  Molly leaned over her, using her height to her advantage. “You will get your ass out of this building right now. I’m going to Drew’s apartment. Your responsibility is to LGA. Either go there or go home.”

  She saw her lip quiver ever so slightly and Molly knew she’d made an impression. The old Molly was back.

  “Fine. There’s a key above the porch light.” She started for the door and Molly could tell she was worried. She whirled around and added, “I’m calling Leon and telling him to get his ass down to LGA. And I don’t give a shit what Mr. Council President might think about Leon’s past history.”

  She stormed out of the room and Molly called Ari as she headed out to her truck and explained that Drew missed the briefing and wasn’t answering his phone.

  “What do you need me to do?” she asked.

  “I want to keep tabs on Yoli. I trust her but this is fishy. I need you to go to Drew’s apartment right now. There’s a key above the porch light. Let me know what you find. I’ll keep trying to reach him.”

  They hung up and Molly pulled out into traffic. She could see Yoli’s Jeep a few cars ahead, but as she scanned the heavy rush hour traffic she knew it was going to be incredibly difficult to tail her and not be noticed.

  The traffic crept along and Molly’s gaze flicked between the car ahead of her and the stoplight ten feet ahead. It went yellow and Molly thought she’d gotten a break, but Yoli gunned the engine and ran the red, leaving Molly at the light.

  “Shit,” she said. Helpless in a sea of traffic, she grabbed a cigarette.

  * * *

  It took Ari nearly half an hour to get to the small duplex where Drew lived. Molly had let her know she’d called him several more times but he wasn’t answering. She pulled up next to a new Toyota Corolla, one that bore the RoG decal on its bumper. It’s pie day.

  If Drew’s car was here, she assumed he was home. There were only eight units, four on each side with a grass patch in between. As she approached the front door an older woman emerged from a unit directly across the grass. She wore a beige pantsuit and looked as though she’d just come home from work, except she’d removed her shoes and exchanged them for a pair of slippers. In her hand she held a can of cat food.

  She glanced at Ari with a look of surprise. “Well, hello. Are you looking for Drew?”

  Ari immediately figured that a neighbor this close probably knew a lot about him. “No, I know he’s not home, but he forgot to bring his pepper spray with him for the security detail at Third Friday. I’m picking it up for him. Did you know he worked security?”

  “I did,” she replied. She emptied the can into a plastic bowl at the edge of the sidewalk and smiled at Ari. “Well, you have a good night.” She offered a little wave and disappeared inside her apartment.

  Ari grabbed the key from its hiding place and quickly moved inside, making sure to lock the door behind her. The smell of sweat immediately made her gasp. She knew Drew boxed, which meant a lot of dirty clothes. She was rather certain he didn’t spend much time cleaning them. She held her nose and scanned the small living room that could’ve doubled for a Mad Men set with its furniture from the sixties, except for the fifty-five-inch television that hung on the wall opposite a lime-green couch. She wouldn’t be caught dead with the bubble floor lamp in the corner, and the purple faux suede chaise against the back wall made her chuckle.

  There were no pictures or mementos except for two framed photos on the end table. In the first one, he had his arm around an older woman Ari suspected was his mother. She looked vibrant and healthy. In the second picture, he hovered over her. She looked weak and her head was shaved. Ari fought back tears as she remembered her own mother’s fight with cancer. A battle she eventually lost. Apparently Drew’s mother had lost as well.

  “Drew,” she called, the thought occurring to her that he might be in the bedroom getting ready. She didn’t hear the shower. She didn’t hear anything.

  The living room led into a kitchen and small dining area that he used for an office. His keys and wallet were on the table. Her skin prickled. Not a good sign.

  She checked the kitchen, noting his utility belt on the counter. He was obviously getting ready for work. Across the dining area light flooded the hallway from the bedroom’s partially opened door.

  “Drew,” she called again as she approached. “It’s Ari Adams. Are you here?”

  She pushed open the door, bracing herself for a bloody scene, but all she saw was a queen-sized bed with a leather headboard. She exhaled, not realizing she’d been holding her breath. His Nelson Security polo lay on the bed as if he was getting ready to put it on. The sliding closet doors to her left were open and she noted the highly organized habits of an ex-serviceman.

  She took a few steps to the right so she could see past the bed, her heart beating fast, worried about what she would find.

  Drew lay slumped in a heap on the floor between the bed and the wall. He was half dressed, wearing his khaki pants and undershirt. Near him on the carpet were an opened energy drink and his laptop, which had apparently toppled over with him. She imagined he’d been sitting on the bed with it, enjoying the energy drink and watching something on the computer.

  She checked for a pulse and found none. He had no visible wounds and there was no sign of a struggle. It was as if he’d collapsed and died while he was getting ready for work. She stepped around him to look at his face. There was fluid coming from his mouth. She leaned over and sniffed the energy drink, but all she smelled was the raspberry flavor advertised on the can.

  She cocked her head to see the laptop’s black screen. She fished a tissue from her pocket and tapped it against the spacebar while whispering, “Please don’t be password protected.”

  She smiled when the screen didn’t
display a security code. Instead it showed the last operation. Apparently Drew had been making a video right before he died. Still using the tissues, she tapped the rewind button and the video started at the beginning. Drew sat on the edge of the bed, cradling the laptop on his knees and holding the energy drink.

  He cleared his throat and said, “My name is Drew Sachs, and if you’re watching this, it probably means I’m dead. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, in fact, things I’m ashamed of. I’m making this video as a way to tell my story.”

  He started to tear up and squeezed the bridge of his nose. He took a swig from the energy drink before he continued. “I was hired to create mayhem on Lower Grand Avenue, LGA. I’m the one who slashed the paintings and planted the smoke bomb. But I didn’t throw the rock. That was Chynna. And I didn’t start the gang fight. I don’t know who did that.” He sighed and looked away momentarily before his gaze returned to the screen. He took another swig and said, “I’m very sorry for all the trouble I caused, but I want to be very clear about something else: I didn’t kill Ms. Wonders, but in a way I’m probably responsible for her death too. I figured out she was following me and writing stuff in her notebook. I told my employer and then she was dead. Maybe if I hadn’t said anything…”

  His voice trailed off and he finished the energy drink. “The last thing I want to say is that I’m sorry for planting the bomb on the Third Friday trolley. Since I’m going to be on the detail over there, it’s my job to make sure everybody’s off the trolley before the bomb explodes at seven p.m. That’s the plan. I’ll save the day and be a hero.” He looked away, embarrassed at the idea.

  He suddenly stopped talking and started coughing and gagging. The energy drink and the laptop fell away simultaneously. The camera turned to a sideways view of a nightstand leg. She could hear him gurgling and then there was silence.

  Several seconds passed before Ari realized she was holding her breath. “Oh, my God,” she murmured. She took a deep breath and her brain jumped from the shock of Drew’s death to his last statement. She glanced at her watch. It was six-forty.

  She punched in Molly’s number and before she could even say hello, Ari shouted, “Drew’s dead and he planted a bomb on the trolley! It’s going off at seven! Jane could be on that trolley!”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Molly raced down Roosevelt Avenue, punching numbers on her speed dial. No one on her team was picking up. Most of them had probably silenced their phones to ensure they heard all the radio chatter. In her haste to tail Yoli she’d left her own radio back at Southwest Realty, a bonehead move she once again chastised herself for as she spun onto First Avenue.

  She knew Yoli would answer her phone. In their months of going together Yoli had never missed a call. She remembered what she’d told Ari about Yoli’s loyalty to the team—and hit her speed dial.

  “What?” Yoli hissed. “You ready to stop tailing me? Don’t trust me anymore?”

  She ignored the question and said as calmly as she could, “Listen to me. There’s a bomb on the trolley and it’s set to go off at seven.”

  “Got it,” was the reply.

  “Don’t be the hero, Yoli—”

  She heard the line disconnect. “Shit.”

  She was gambling on her belief in Yoli. What if she was collaborating with Drew? What if she wasn’t the upstanding person Molly believed her to be? Just keep believing. Focus on finding the trolley.

  If they were going to save the trolley riders, they needed to know its location. She knew that three trolleys operated on First Friday, but she thought only one ran on Third Fridays since the crowd was smaller. She pulled into the trolley lot and drove right up to the office door. A light was on and through the partially opened blinds she saw a dispatcher behind the desk. The front door was locked but she pulled out her PI license and held it against the window. A middle-aged man with a potbelly ambled to the door.

  “You gotta stop that trolley right now,” she said when he opened it a sliver. “There’s a bomb.”

  “Christ almighty!” He gaped at her then yanked open the door.

  They went to the radio and attempted to call the driver three times. “He’s not answering,” he said. “I thought it was odd I hadn’t heard from Joe in over an hour.”

  “His radio’s probably been disconnected. Does he have a cell phone?”

  “I’m sure it’s off,” the dispatcher said. “Company policy.”

  What’s the route?” she asked.

  He grabbed one of the flyers and a pen. “We go east along McDowell to Seventh Street. Turn right and head up Roosevelt. Then down to the diner in LGA. Over to Van Buren and back up Seventh Street. Then we do it all over again about ten times during the event.”

  “Any idea where they might be now?”

  “Hard to say. He’s been out about an hour, so he’s done the route at least twice. Probably coming up through LGA again real soon.”

  While he’d worked and talked she’d pulled up her email and scrolled through it until she found the one with Drew’s bio and his history in the army. There it was. Demolitions expert. He certainly had the capability to build a bomb.

  She exchanged her truck for a ten-speed bicycle that an employee had left in the trolley lot. No way she could get through the RoRo traffic with her truck. She steered one-handed and called Yoli again. “It’s headed for LGA right now!”

  “Team responding,” was the smooth reply before she hung up.

  Molly was almost to Seventh Avenue and saw no sign of the trolley. She flew through the intersection and headed into the Roosevelt Historical Neighborhood. The road crested from its slight incline and she saw the trolley turn onto Grand, its huge frame splashed by the streetlights for just a few seconds.

  She turned on Thirteenth Avenue, determined to avoid the major intersection of Fifteenth, Grand and Roosevelt. She zipped past the dilapidated homes and shops and cut across Pierce Street. When she hit LGA she saw the trolley in front of the diner. Yoli and Leon were herding people off. As she approached, the trolley started to move again with Yoli behind the wheel. It whizzed by her and Yoli glanced her way but didn’t stop.

  She did a quick U-turn, overhearing the chatter of the Third Friday goers who’d just debarked. Someone called her name. It sounded like Jane but she couldn’t be sure.

  Yoli turned right at Tenth where the Stapley Building met Grand. She continued for two more blocks until she hit the old railroad yard—a vacant lot. She parked the trolley and jumped out. Molly sensed what was coming and stayed on the sidewalk, nearly a hundred yards away. As Yoli walked toward her she glanced at her watch. She flashed five fingers, which became four, then three, two, and finally one.

  Molly jumped when it exploded. The end of the trolley was suddenly engulfed in flames. She pulled out her phone but Yoli waved her off. “No need. I already called them.”

  Within seconds sirens wailed and the fire trucks approached. Molly stared at Yoli, her arms folded, grinning and watching the flames. “I love a good bomb.”

  “What the hell happened?” She debated whether to slam her to the ground but seeing as she’d just saved all of the trolley riders, she wasn’t sure now what to think. “Did you know that trolley was going to blow up?”

  She scowled at her. “What? Are you fucking crazy?”

  Molly leaned into her space. “Drew planted that bomb. He made a video. You’ve been stuck to him for the past week. You mean to tell me you didn’t know about this?”

  “Shit no, I didn’t know,” she said through gritted teeth. “That’s the truth. I knew somethin’ stunk about him, but he wouldn’t confide in me. He kept breaking down and crying, saying his mom wouldn’t be proud of him. I kept asking him why but he wouldn’t tell me.” She looked around. “Where the hell is he, anyway?”

  Molly struggled for the words. “He…”

  Yoli closed her eyes and grabbed the sides of her head, as if she could tamp down her emotions. She turned away and kicked the dirt, swe
aring and choking down her sobs. She arched her shoulders and took a deep breath. When she turned around she asked, “How did he die?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Yoli stared at her, no longer trusting her answers.

  Molly pointed at the flames. “You really didn’t know about this?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not lying to you. That’s the one thing you gotta know, Molly, in your heart. I’ve always been straight with you even when you didn’t like it.”

  A knot formed in her throat. That was true. It was Yoli’s honesty that had kept her sober. She swallowed hard before she said, “I believe you.” She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jack Adams talking to Detectives Perkins and Flores. “Do you have any idea who might’ve killed him?”

  “I only saw him for a little while today. He’d said he had to stay late at work. I stopped by around four and left around four thirty. He was still getting ready for the detail tonight. Told him I’d see him at the meeting. He was fine.”

  Work lights and yellow flames illuminated the dark field and she saw a tear crawling down Yoli’s face. When she saw Molly watching her, she quickly wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.

  “You know, you saved a whole lot of lives tonight,” Molly said gently.

  She nodded, looking away. “Yeah, but I couldn’t save him. He was always the runt of the platoon.”

  “Nelson!” Jack Adams called.

  She turned toward him and said, “Just give me a sec, Chief.”

  “Now,” he said tersely. “I don’t care that you don’t work for me anymore.”

  She stifled a chuckle and turned back to Yoli. She was gone.

  * * *

  Three hours later Molly, Ari and Jane, who’d followed the flames to the explosion site, climbed into Ari’s 4Runner. Perkins, Flores and Jack Adams had grilled Molly extensively on what she knew about the death of Ms. Wonders and the incidents that had occurred on LGA. She’d known Jack for a long time and she could tell from his tone and facial expressions that he wasn’t happy with his detectives.