Good Chemistry (10 page)

Chapter 10

Debra sat warily at her desk and observed Kane and Meacham as they briefed Captain Frazier. Neither of them produced the diamond. Later, after Kane and Meacham left the building, Debra went to the print lab and found that they had not mentioned the blue diamond nor logged it into evidence.

“Great. Two more cops on the take,” Debra grumbled to herself, but she would have to let this one pass. When she finally arrested the Doc Robber, if he admitted to planting the diamond on Debra, she could always deny it, and Kane and Meacham could not contradict her story. The thought drifted through her mind, that Johansen would never tell them he planted that diamond if he knew it would hurt her.

She’d assumed they intended to fence the stone and pocket the money. There was nothing more she could do until the mysterious Johansen Davenport showed himself again. Next time, she would be ready for him.

In the meantime, Manning kept working diligently on the bombing case. She drove over to Andrew McGee’s house. The manager let her in after she served him with a search warrant.

“So have you ever seen any suspicious activity around Mr. McGee’s apartment?” Debra asked.

“No, ma’am. In fact, Mr. McGee was probably the best tenant I had. He went to work and came home. He pretty much kept to himself. Quiet fella.”

“No visitors? In government vehicles maybe?”

“No, ma’am, I’ve never seen him have visitors of any kind.”

“Okay, thanks.” Debra let the manager go back to his office while she stayed and searched the apartment. The apartment was Spartan. There was a couch, a bed, and a dresser. It was sparse even for a bachelor pad.

Debra found her way to his home office. Now this is where the action happened. His desk and work area were littered with Post-It Notes, equations, and open books everywhere. Debra looked at an open book on the computer desk. That was when she noticed the framed pictures of a pretty blonde-haired woman.

Debra’s suspicion was immediately aroused. None of the pictures were posed. All of them were shots of her walking, or playing with her dog in the park. He even had one of her getting her paper off the front porch first thing in the morning.

“Interesting. A bit of stalking behavior going on.” Debra digested how that nugget might reshape the case, as she pulled one of the pictures from its frame to show around.

Then she sat down at Andrew’s desk and carefully began to decipher his home project. After a few grueling hours, struggling with Andrew’s chicken-scratch notes Debra finally got a clear picture of what Andrew was working on. If the formula he invented actually worked as his notes described, Debra finally had a motive for someone wanting him dead. Good old-fashioned greed.

A foolproof love potion would be worth billions, and more than enough motive to want Andrew McGee and his associate dead. Blowing up the lab to cover any trace of evidence was beginning to make sense, but it still didn’t explain the nature or source of the explosive used. Plus, why would someone go to all the trouble of blowing up the lab and then leave all of this evidence where it could be so easily found?

The wheels were turning in Debra’s mind as she drove over to the neighborhood where the lab had been. She began a door-to-door canvas. She knocked on the door of a house one block down from the crater.

“Good morning. My name is Detective Manning.” Debra presented her badge for inspection, when the homeowner opened the door. “I’m investigating the explosion that occurred on the next block. Is there anything you can tell me about the chemists who worked there?”

“No, not much I’m afraid. They kept to themselves. I did see them every day though. They walked past on their way to Alexander’s a few blocks down.” The elderly woman held her housecoat closed with one hand while pointing the way with the other.

“Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate the information.” Debra headed straight to the steakhouse. She entered, and seeing no wait staff made a beeline to the bar.

“Good morning, I’m Detective Manning. I’m investigating the explosion. Do you recognize any of these people?” she asked the bartender as she passed him three pictures to examine.

“Sure, I recognize all three of them. These two are the people from the lab. That’s Heidi, my
former
bartender. She up and vanished the day of the explosion. And this freak was obsessed with her.” The Dom DeLuise-looking bartender pointed at Andrew’s picture with a chubby finger.

“All right. Can I get an address for the bartender?” Debra knew this couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Sure.”

Debra waited while he went and fished Heidi’s job application from a filing cabinet. “Here you go. All of its current as far as I know.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your help.” Debra drove to the address given for Heidi Gunderson’s apartment, and had the manager let her in.

“Are you sure you don’t need a warrant?”

“No, ma’am, Heidi has gone missing from work. I need to enter the premises to do a welfare check.”

“All right, if you say so.” The shriveled redheaded manager opened the door eyeing Debra warily.

Debra did a quick scan of the apartment and found no one at home. Nevertheless, a brief glance at the contents of the apartment told Debra she was getting warmer. In the bedroom closet, she found stacks of unopened DVD’s and car stereos. It was obviously stolen merchandise.

Debra found a picture of Heidi with her arms around the neck of an unsavory-looking character. She put in a call to the Crime Scene Investigation Unit, to come out and catalog the evidence. Then she took the photo and job application, and headed downtown to research Heidi’s background.

Later that night, when the city had calmed down as much as it was going to, Johansen Davenport rounded the corner onto Amsted Boulevard. He parked his black Mercedes in front of the Cantrell’s mansion as if it belonged there.

Bethany Cantrell had discussed the interior of her home at great length with Johansen at the Walter Alt’s Charity Benefit. Johansen posed as an interior decorator and the recommendations for a remodel of the master suite were well received, but a detailed plan would have to wait until they returned from Switzerland.

It turned out that Tuesdays and Wednesdays would be the ideal time to do the work, as there was always minimal staff on hand. Only Oswald the butler and two members of the kitchen staff were there tonight, as usual.

The pair of Doberman Pinchers was already unconscious from the tranquilizer darts he had fired at them through the fence. Johansen pulled the dart from each dog as he passed, careful to leave no trace of himself. Nimbly he scaled a side wall. The shadows from the portico obscured his movements. As he balanced himself precariously on a narrow decorative ledge, he applied a thin mist of first one chemical and then another from tiny spray bottles.

As the two chemicals mixed, they activated and the glass from the window softened to liquid goo and dripped down from the wooden frame. The circuit to the alarm remained undisturbed. Johansen pulled the drapes closed to hide the damaged window and then made his way silently across the spare bedroom to the door. He peered through and listened after he opened it just a hair.

Satisfied that he had the upper floor to himself, he tiptoed down the main hall and into the master bedroom. The president of Atwood Insurance was known to lavish his wife with the finest jewelry from the best craftsmen across Europe.

Johansen moved along quietly tapping the wall and listening to the sound through his stethoscope. Each rap told him to keep working his way around the room. He checked each picture hanging from the walls to see if any weren’t actually hanging from a wire.

Finally, an oil painting in an ornate gilded frame of Bernard himself, swung open on a hinge to reveal the safe built into the wall behind it. Johansen drew a deep calming breath. Quietly he began turning the dial and listening for the tumblers to fall a hair heavier when the right number was found. At last, the final number fell in place. The handle turned and the heavy steel door swung open.

Johansen quickly stuffed bundles of hundred-dollar bills into his tote bag. Next, two necklaces with matching earrings slid off their display trays into his bag. Then he quietly shut the safe and gave the dial a spin. He closed the portrait over the safe.

As he was turning to cross the room, the sound of the doorknob turning sent him diving to the floor beside the bed. The beam of a flashlight broke the darkness as it swept back and forth across the room. Footsteps fell heavily on the hardwood floor.

Johansen slid himself under the bed and held his breathing to a minimum. Through the tiny gap between the bedspread and the floor, Johansen could just make out the watchman’s feet as he walked around the room.

Johansen’s heart leaped in his throat when the bright beam of the flashlight suddenly flooded the edge of the bedspread, only inches from his hand. Johansen eyed the edge of the bed warily. His heart started pounding in his ears. Long moments went by.

The beam of light passed back and forth one last time. Footsteps whispered in his ear as they retraced their path back to the door. Then finally, the door swung closed again. The room was once more dark and utterly silent, except for the pounding of Johansen’s heart in his ears.

He waited for what seemed like an eternity. He slid himself out from under the bed and dusted himself off. His solid black attire had gray dust bunny racing stripes running down his left leg. Johansen tiptoed to the door. Putting his ear against it, he waited and listened.

The material of his mask was growing damp above his eyes as sweat leeched off his forehead. He slowly turned the ornate crystal knob. The door creaked softly. In the dead silence, it might as well have been a bow drawn across violin strings. Johansen stopped and winced, his face tightening up under his mask.

He stepped forward angling his face to see through the small crack between the double doors. The hallway was dark. The quiet was fragile, like an egg balanced on a fingertip. Again, he pulled the door toward him. Once more long, low creaking issued from its arthritic hinges. He had no choice. He opened the door enough to fit through and wedged himself through the opening sideways.

His eyes darted quickly up and down the hallway. Only darkness. Johansen walked as softly as a cat. He crossed the hallway and made it back to the small bedroom he’d gained entry through. He put his gloved hand on the handle and slowly turned it, pushing the door open into the room. He tiptoed inside.

Closing the door behind him Johansen paused and took a couple of deep breaths. He tiptoed across the last stretch back to the melted window. He eased himself through the opening. As he worked his body out the window and back onto the narrow ledge, a light flashed below him.

Underneath Johansen, the security guard was making his rounds. He passed the light through the shrubbery.

“Okay, buddy, you might as well come out. The police are on their way,” the guard shouted in a jovial mocking tone.

Damn. The absence of the dogs must have alerted the guard to his presence.

He had no choice. As the guard stepped directly below him, Johansen jumped with his feet held together. He landed them right in the center of the guard’s chest. He went down like ‘the other guy’ in a Mike Tyson fight. He had knocked the guard to the ground but he was still conscious. Johansen rolled sideways on the grass and leaped to his feet. The guard shot out a hand and caught him by the ankle.

Johansen tumbled back to the ground. The guard was getting up when Johansen kicked him hard, right in the face. His foot grazed the guard’s chin, but it was enough to send his head snapping sideways causing him to let go of Johansen’s ankle.

He instantly bolted for the wall. At a full run, he leaped as high as he could. His gloved hand caught the top row of stones, barely. Johansen pulled himself up and flung his body over the wall in his bid to escape.

He crashed to the cement on the other side, the wind knocked from his lungs. Gasping for air, he staggered his way to the Mercedes. He dragged himself in and turned the key. As he slammed the stick shift into gear and peeled out down the street, he saw the flashing blue-and-red lights of police cruisers coming around the corner at the far end of the block.

He left a huge cloud of white tire smoke in his wake. The police were right on his tail. He weaved his car around the tight turns of the residential neighborhood. Once he turned onto the huge eight-lane-boulevard, he was on a straightaway and he rapidly put distance between himself and the cops. He nearly rolled his car as he swung around, making a wide right.

The cops were far enough behind that they missed it. Johansen slammed on the brakes and skidded around one final corner. He threw the car into Park and lay down across the front seats. He could just see over the edge of the dash enough to make it out as one set of flashing red-and-blue lights shot past after another.

Johansen sat for a while, then put the car in gear and leisurely drove home.

Chapter 11

One month earlier

Bernie was on her way to the county jail to pick up Judy after Andrew’s parents insisted to the police that she had their permission to be on their roof. She guessed the idea of her bird watching was going to sell whether it had a buyer or not. As she pulled up, Judy was already out on the front steps waiting for her.

Judy hopped in nervously and quickly locked the door. “Go . . .go!” she insisted to Bernie as if she was afraid the guards were going to change their minds, come running out, grab her, and drag her back inside.

“God, am I glad to see you,” Judy piped dramatically.

“Of course, Judy. I just had to stop first and sit down for a talk with Andrew’s parents. I think I convinced them that I’m not crazy. I explained that you were just there for moral support. I think they bought it. They were pretty flipped out about that stunt I pulled on them.”

“Oh yeah, how was that, by the way?” Judy grinned and threw her a sideways glace.

Bernie just stared at the road in front of her with her head slightly cocked and the faintest trace of a smile on her face. She could do nothing but sit there and tolerate Judy with her cheeks growing progressively warmer shades of red.

Judy cared too much about Bernie to tease her too much about that, but she sat there fighting to suppress a laughing fit until Bernie’s
spell
finally passed.

“So . . .?”

“So, what?”

“Come on, Bernie. What was it like?”

“Oh come on. I don’t want to talk about that.” Bernie shook her head. Her enormous pile of red curls also waved ‘no’, a full half-second afterward.

“Come on, please? This isn’t fair. You have to do something that bizarre to your remotely possible future in-laws and I don’t get a single juicy detail. Come on, give.”

Bernie threw her a piercing look but searched for a place to begin. She knew Judy would never let this go without her telling her something.

Bernie pulled into their driveway and they both jumped out. As they walked to the front door, a moving van pulled in Steve’s driveway next door. Steve came out on the porch and spotted them. He shot them the most hateful, puzzled look Bernie had ever seen.

She quickly went inside, followed by Judy, on her heels. Bernie was blushing once again but only about half as high on the red hot and glowing scale.

“Oh my God!” Bernie exclaimed, as she peeked out between the crack in the drapes.

Judy touched an ice-cold beer to Bernie’s arm.

“Oh thanks. My God, is he really doing it? He’s going to move over a silly little thing like that.”

Judy shook her head dismissively. She played much rougher than most people, yet honestly couldn’t understand why Steve was so upset.

Aside from the fact that he later recalled being stuck with a needle, he also found Judy’s kisses so off-putting that he felt he needed a zip code’s worth of distance between them.

“Come on, forget him. Here. Sit.” Judy patted the spot next to her on the couch.

Bernie knew she wanted her to spill the beans. Bernie sighed and shook her head as she finally turned away from the window.

“Come on, come on.” Judy needled Bernie to sit down.

“Well, at first Joanna really freaked out. She tried clawing me off her. I licked her upper lip. I felt a little jolt go through her. I figured I’d better not go for any tongue, just in case she ever does become my mother-in-law.”

Judy nodded with the nonchalance of a person who easily recognized that as the appropriate boundary in a situation like this.

“What about Lewis?” Judy’s eyes wrinkled up with her silent breathless laugh.

“Well at first I thought ‘no problem’ because I thought for sure I was going to bowl him over backwards. But when he caught his balance and stood up, I slid down right onto his . . . cock area.” Bernie blurted the last two words and quickly chugged her beer.

“Oh my God. You’re shitting me! Did he . . .?” Judy trailed off on a high note.

“What?”

“You know, did he get a visit from Mr. Woody?” Judy chopped at the air with both hands, as she finally had to state the obvious.

“No! I don’t know. Maybe! I know one thing for sure. I’m a shoe-in for daughter-in-law as far as he’s concerned. But also I can’t ever be alone with him again.”

They both burst out laughing.

“Hey, you know, seriously for a minute. Steve could really get us in some serious trouble. I wonder if we should try to apologize or do something to fix it.”

Bernie eyed Judy over the edge of her beer can. “No. No way. Are you kidding? Listen, you can’t ever say anything like that to Steve. As long as you don’t confess to it, it will always be just his word against ours.”

Judy stared at Bernie with a look of grave concern. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“We should just stop and hope the whole thing blows over.” Bernie decided.

“Stop? What do you mean stop?” Judy’s jaw dropped.

“Of course I mean stop. Look at all the trouble this has caused already—”

“Bernie, please! You can’t stop. I’m serious. Bernie, I need this to work. I’m never going to meet a man I’m compatible with.”

“No, Judy. Don’t say that. Of course you will.” Bernie scooted next to her friend and hugged her as she began to cry.

“Bernie, I’m serious. Please, let me do this. I understand the risks. They’re mine to take. And I want to.”

“Oh all right, but we have to figure out a different delivery method. We can’t stick any more people with needles.”

“Oh yes we can! Hold on.” Judy scrambled off the couch to her room. When she returned she was carrying a three-foot long blow-dart tube in one hand and a hypodermic dart in the other.

“Uh- huh?” Judy nodded her head affirmatively as she handed them to Bernie. “Where on Earth did you get these?”

“You remember Alfred, don’t you?”

“That Romanian midget you dated?”

“Dwarf, he was a dwarf. Anyway, he was diabetic and instead of giving him regular shots, he dressed up in a leopard-skin loincloth and I’d give him a ten-second head start. Then I would hunt him down and shoot him.” Judy trailed off as if it was just an ordinary story anybody might tell.

It took a few seconds for Bernie to pull her mouth shut. She shook her head briefly as her mind swept this one into the ‘Judy’ file. That was the place where she stored all the crazy shit Judy had said throughout the years. This nugget made less sense than usual.

“Okay, so just who do you plan to use that thing on?”

“Well I’ve sort of had my eye on that pizza delivery guy. The one who drives the cute little red truck.”

“That guy? Why him?”

“He’s sweet. He gets a little twinkle in his eye whenever I pay him and he gets too embarrassed to speak. Be sort of interesting to try this stuff on a person who has a problem like that, don’t you think?” Judy blinked her eyebrows like Groucho Marx.

“Yeah, that would be interesting.” This latest wrinkle got Bernie back into the spirit of things. She believed in true love. She did, however, have the tiniest bit of curiosity over what the elixir could do for her shyness.

“Okay. Let me call Andrew and see how close he is to a new formula.” She got out her cell phone and punched in his number.

“Hi, Andrew, it’s me, Bernie. I was calling to see how the new formula is coming along. Oh. Okay. All right, well, I’ll begin my fast again and we can try it tomorrow. Great. Okay. Bye.” Bernie snapped the phone shut and gave Judy a stern look.

”He’s already finished with the reformulation. We’re doing our test at this time tomorrow.”

“Okay, so what do we have to do?”

“I just have to run to the lab and switch out the vials again. You just stay here and get yourself ready.”

About an hour later, Bernie was back from the lab. Judy met her at the front door bubbling over with enthusiasm.

“He’s there. He’s at work right now.” Judy was walking around with her cell phone out and open, just waiting to make the call.

“Okay, give me five minutes to load up the darts and get my computer set up to record.” After a few antsy minutes, Bernie finally hollered to Judy in the living room. “Okay.”

“And, hey, no mushrooms,” Bernie interjected as she joined Judy back in the living room already ordering the pizza.

“Okay, thank you.” Judy hung up. “It’ll be here in about twenty minutes.”

Bernie handed Judy the loaded dart gun and an extra dart, just in case, God forbid, something should go wrong.

Judy dug around in the closet for a camouflage rain poncho, which she put on. She went out on the front porch just in time to see Steve pulling out and following the moving truck as it drove away. Judy hopped over the railing and hid herself in the bushes next to the front door.

The wait seemed to take forever, but finally, Judy saw the red delivery truck pull up and park in front of their mailbox. It was him. Devon grabbed the pizza heat-insulating bag and headed for the front door. It opened before he had a chance to knock.

“Hello, there.” Bernie smiled playfully at him and handed him a twenty. As he was getting her change, Judy lined up her shot. Her cheeks puffed out. Her face turned red. And with a mighty swoosh, the dart found its mark.

“Ouch! What the hell?” Devon screeched when the dart stabbed him in the shoulder.

“What is it? Turn around and let me see.” Bernie practically ripped him off his feet as she spun him around with lightning speed. Then she pulled the dart out and tossed it back in the bushes near Judy before Devon could wrench his head around to see anything.

“Oh wow. I think a wasp or something stung you. Here, come inside and sit down for a minute. Let’s make sure you don’t have an allergic reaction.” Bernie guided him inside and deposited him on the couch as she took the pizza bag from him and set it on the coffee table. “Would you like a soda?” Bernie held a can of 7-UP over the top of the refrigerator door and waved it back and forth.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks. Listen, I’ve got to get going.” Devon tried to rise but Bernie pulled him back down.

“No, wait. Let me have a look at that bee sting, won’t you? The stinger might still be in there.”

Just then, the front door opened and Judy pretended to be coming home from work. “Hey, Bernie. Oh hello. Who is this?” Judy asked playfully as she grinned at Devon. He recognized her and immediately his freckled face went flush with embarrassment.

Bernie probed around under Devon’s collar rubbing the injection spot. “I’m sorry. I never asked your name.” Bernie leaned over Devon’s shoulder to look at him.

“Devon. My name is Devon.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Devon. Devon here got stung by one of those wasps that have been hanging around the porch.”

“Oh you poor thing.” Judy squeezed herself onto the couch next to Devon. She took his hand in hers and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Judy marveled as Devon’s eyelashes began to flutter. Then all the color drained away from his face. After a few moments of violent shaking, Devon slid over sideways unconscious.

“Oh no. Give him the antidote.” Judy was freaking out as Bernie started loading the other dart.

Then suddenly Devon’s eyes sprang open. He turned his sights on Judy. His nostrils flared like a snorting, raging bull. His eyes were wide and full of fire.

Then he pounced. In a flash, he had Judy pinned to the couch. He worked his mouth into a hot, writhing tangle with Judy’s. His hands were working every spot on her body.

Bernie quietly scampered back to her room to monitor the test.

Their breathing became hot and labored. Devon grabbed a hand full of Judy’s hair and yanked her head back. Kissing and nibbling the flesh on her neck. Judy moaned and melted at his touch. She felt a quiver run through Devon.

Suddenly he lost consciousness and slumped over.

Judy rolled him back against the couch before he fell over on the floor.

“Oh my God. Is he?” Judy asked, mouth open in horror.

“No, he’s just passed out. Let’s time it until he wakes up and then give him the antidote,” Bernie said as she ran back in.

“Okay,” Judy said with utter disappointment. It was really going quite well as far as she was concerned. Just then, a car pulled up in front of the house. Judy’s parents again.

“Oh shit! It’s my folks. We have to get him out of here.”

Bernie and Judy quickly swung into action. Judy got him under the arms, and Bernie got his feet, just like an angry gator. They hustled him back to Bernie’s room and Judy sprang back across the living room just as the doorbell rang. Judy pulled open the door.

“Hey, you guys. You should have called and let me know you were coming.” Judy hugged both of her parents in turn.

Usually they called before a visit, but after what happened before, they decided to drop in unannounced so they could catch a glimpse of what was really going on.

Richard was about to launch into an explanation that they were in town on business and had decided to swing by on the spur of the moment. But he never got a chance.

When he turned to address Judy, his eyes grew wide in shock. Devon, reawakened and now stripped naked, wheeled Judy around by the shoulders and buried his tongue in her mouth. Judy’s mom began slapping Devon about the head and shoulders. Richard grabbed Devon by the shoulders and physically pried him from his daughter. Fearing he was about to be kissed again he instinctively punched Devon in the stomach as hard as he could. Devon doubled over.

Judy’s parents, without saying a word, both grabbed Judy. They dragged her out to their car, shoved her in the back seat, got in themselves, and sped away.

Devon seemed barely perturbed by the vicious gut shot. He ran to his truck and went after them in hot pursuit. Bernie, thinking quickly, grabbed Devon’s clothes and jumped into her own car to follow the other two. For about half an hour, Mr. Marx did pretty well. He led them all through the neighborhood.