Good Chemistry (4 page)

“Hey! This is for the advancement of science.” Bernie’s lips curled up into a devilish smile at the corners of her mouth.

“Oh wait! One last thing.” Judy dashed out into the backyard and returned with a catchpole and a roll of electrical tape.

“Just for a worst-case scenario.” Judy leaned the pole against the edge of Bernie’s computer desk.

“So who did you have in mind as our first test subject?”

Chapter 4

Manning put the top down again as soon as the brief storm blew itself out. The sun cooked off the raindrops on the asphalt like a frying pan. Rain barely hit the ground before turning to muggy humidity. Debra pulled into her spot in the two-level garage below police headquarters. She caught the elevator and headed straight to Frazier’s office. “Captain.” Debra said, and took a seat in front of the desk.

Frazier let out one long significant sigh to let everyone know he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was garbage, of course. The only weight he carried was an extra forty pounds around his middle. The source of his angst was the prospect of being a fat, angry, balding police captain on the losing-end of divorce number three. He was estranged from his children and his career had hit a glass ceiling. Only the crushing weight of alimony kept him from hanging up his badge.

“So where are we at on the bombing?” he finally asked.

“Right now we have virtually nothing. The M.E. can only speculate that we have three dead, two lab techs and a neighbor lady across the street. There is nothing but ash and bone fragments for him to examine. He found a molar with the root intact so we may have one viable DNA sample. All of the tooth and jaw fragments have been taken to Oscar for a forensic profile, but he already called and told me it’s not enough for a reconstruction. He’s comparing the fragments to the records of Andrew McGee and Bernadette O’Malley, the chemists named on the lease. I’m heading over to the O’Malley residence as soon as we’re through here.” Debra glanced down at her notes.

Frazier could barely disguise the contempt in his eyes. He knew Manning was twice the cop he ever dreamed of being and he despised her for it.

“So what about the explosive?” he demanded gruffly.

“I was coming to that. So far, it has our boys at the lab stumped. They ran it through the mass spectrometer and got some strange results that came back with two chemicals they can’t identify. They still aren’t sure if this is just an accidental lab explosion or some sort of attack. I’m taking a sample of the residue to the FBI lab on my way to the O’Malley’s. We’ll see what they can make of it.”

Frazier snorted with contempt. Any mention of the FBI got his ire up and brought down his derision. Twenty years ago, he had applied to the FBI and they politely but dismissively told him that he wasn’t what they were looking for. Frazier had hated the FBI ever since. He balked at cooperating with them, but he knew that on a case of this magnitude he had no choice. Not working well with others was what got his file flagged at the FBI in the first place, and it was the primary reason he would never rise to a rank higher than captain in the police force.

“I’ve got calls in to everybody: FBI, CIA, NSA, and DOD. Somebody must have a clue what this stuff is and where it came from. If it was terrorism, the target seems unusual. They killed two chemists, a retired English teacher, and destroyed a thirty-year-old building.” Frazier stroked his chin back and forth, letting out a noxious “hmmm,” as if he was considering something deep and profound. “So what’s your take?” What is your gut telling you?” He needed an intelligent opinion to kick upstairs and he couldn’t produce one himself.

“Right now I’m leaning toward a simple lab accident. I think somebody’s top-secret research blew up in their faces. I seriously doubt that whoever it belonged to is going to cop to it.”

Frazier frowned and nodded knowingly. Another “hmmm” then he asked, “What brought you to that conclusion?”

Debra drew a deep breath. She found Frazier tedious. This was a waste of her valuable time. He just wanted something for which he could take credit, and Debra knew it.

“Well two things. First, this explosion was unlike anything anyone has ever seen. That sort of research takes big funding. Second, is the location, it was such a nondescript little lab and well off the beaten path. It just strikes me as odd. It had to be top secret. If the city had any inkling someone was toying with something that dangerous, they would never have permitted it near a residential neighborhood.”

Frazier nodded with his usual asinine smug approval. “Okay, it sounds like you’ve got a solid handle on this. Oh, by the way, I need you to run the Doc Robber case-file down to Detective Kane in Robbery. Let Kane and Meacham take another run at it. I’m going to need you to give your full attention to this bombing deal.”

As she expected, the ass-holes in robbery would get their case back, and Frazier telling her to take the file down to them was just another dig at her.

Manning left the Captain’s office and went to her desk. She pulled open the bottom drawer and barely caught herself before she shrieked. Inside the drawer, lying on top of a dinner napkin was a dead, stiff rat. It’s cold, lifeless eyes stared up at her.

Debra quickly scanned the room. The five or six people milling around wouldn’t look at her. They just snickered under their breath. Debra scooped up the rat with the napkin and threw both in the trash with a disgusted shake of her head.

This had been going on for weeks. A case Debra had disintegrated when two kilos of coke went missing from the evidence room before going to trial. Ever since, she placed tracking devices inside each cache of dope or drug money that now went to the evidence room.

It took about three weeks to track a fresh bundle of hundred dollar bills to the home of vice-squad’s Detective Loman. Debra put him under surveillance and caught Detective Marcel and Sergeant Sandoval with their hands in the cookie jar as well. Loman and Marcel were in county lock-up awaiting trial. Sandoval took the easy way out. He went home and ate his gun, leaving a splash of brain spray for his wife and kids to clean up.

Detective Debra Janine Manning was now persona-non-grata with her fellow boys in blue. Roberts, her partner, had applied for a transfer a week earlier, and it was granted. So now, Debra worked alone. That was all right with her. Roberts was always more of a dead weight hanging around her neck than a partner anyway.

Still, Debra was rapidly concluding that it was time for her to move on. Now, whenever she responded to a call that might involve gunplay, she kept her fellow officers in front of her where she could see them. It was her way to keep from accidentally taking a slug in the back of the head, in a friendly-fire mishap.

Debra grabbed the file on the Doc Robber case and walked downstairs to dispatch. Jasmine, or Jazz to her friends, was one of the few people in the building still on Debra’s good side.

“Hey, Jazz, I need you to do me a solid.”

The chunky, black woman with kind eyes and an infectious laugh looked up. “Debra. How you doin’, girl?”

“I’m okay. Hey, listen, can you burn a copy of this for me and tuck it in the center drawer of my desk and then give the original to Kane in Robbery?” Debra handed her the key to her desk drawer. She removed a Post-it-Note from the first page of the file and jammed it in her pocket. She passed the folder over.

Jazz winked at her as she took it. “No problem, sugar.” She knew what was up.

Debra had the time and address of a swanky high-society charity ball written on the Post-it-Note. It was just a hunch, but her gut was telling her, that this was the way the Doc Robber found his victims.

His information was too precise. He had to be rubbing elbows with the high-society types he robbed. He must be one of them or somebody passing as one. He was someone these people felt comfortable opening up to. They revealed personal information to him that he then used against them. He must be beyond reproach. Even after the robberies, the victims couldn’t or wouldn’t come up with a name or a face of anyone who aroused their suspicions.

“Thanks, Jazz.” Debra went out to her car and made the short drive over to the FBI Miami field office. She pulled open the thick, glass door. The cold air-conditioned breeze stunned her system after being out in the blazing sunshine.

“Jen, I need to see Franklin. Is he in?” Debra asked the receptionist.

“Sure, Detective Manning. Let me see if he’s available.” “Go on back, Detective,” she said, after seeing that Franklin was off the phone.

“Thanks.” Debra stepped into Franklin’s office and quietly took a seat.

“Detective Manning. How the hell are you?” Franklin gushed.

“I’m good, Franklin.”

He looked knowingly into her eyes. He knew things were anything but good. He hoped that was the reason she was here.

“I caught the bombing case over on Citrus. And I’m hoping your boys can tell us a little more than our lab did.” Debra slid the small, clear cellophane sample bag across the desk. Franklin picked it up and examined it. “Sure, no problem.”

Franklin was performing his role as FBI liaison to the MDPD. But his thoughts were following the sub-text conversation.

Debra read him like a book and responded. “I haven’t made up my mind yet. I’m definitely leaving the force. There’s no question about that. But I’m just not sure what I want to do next.”

The restlessness Franklin always saw in her eyes was now more intense. The feeling that there was something wild, something primal, something too powerful to unleash in her, sent a shiver down Franklin’s spine. He saw her tightly controlled passion. A fire burned in Debra. A fire hot enough to consume whoever it touched. He imagined she could crush his head like a walnut, in the heat of passion, if she ever really let go.
My God . . . what a fine way to die.

“Franklin, did you hear me?” Debra pulled him back to reality. She knew what he was thinking. It tickled her. She liked Franklin. He lusted after her, but was secure enough not to try knocking her down the way a lot of guys did.

“I’ll put a rush on it with the lab. Now about the other thing. I ran your file by the chief. He liked it. We want you here Debra. You’re exactly the caliber person the FBI needs. You just say the word and the job is yours.”

Debra smiled at the news. It felt good to feel respected again. The constant harassment she was enduring was beginning to take its toll. She might be ‘super cop’, but she was still a human being. Having her colleagues turn on her, for doing the right thing, ended up being more difficult to deal with than Debra had imagined. But she didn’t really think about it. It had been the right and honorable thing to do. So, she did it. There was nothing to think about, and she would do it again, regardless of the fallout. Her father may have been a borderline lunatic, but he instilled in his daughter, a code of honor and an unswerving commitment to duty, respect, and honesty.

“I appreciate that, Franklin. I’ll let you know as soon as I can. I have one last case I need to clear.” Debra rose and shook his hand.

“You just say the word, Detective.”

Debra returned to her car and drove to the home address of Bernadette O’Malley. As she waited at a red light, she got out her phone and dialed Amanda Harrington’s number. She was an art curator and a consultant to the department in cases involving stolen or counterfeit art.

“Hello, Amanda. Hi, it’s Debra Manning from Major Case. Yes, I’m fine. She’s doing okay . . . no, nothing like that. Listen, I need a favor and you’re the person who popped to mind. Ah-huh. I need an invitation to the Walter Alt’s Charity Benefit tonight. No, no, it’s for work. Okay, sure you don’t mind? Great, I’ll swing by and pick it up this afternoon. I really appreciate this. You, too . . . thanks . . . bye.” Debra flipped the phone shut and realized she had nothing to wear to such a high-end event. She’d have to go shopping for a dress. “Dammit!” Clothes shopping was in the top ten of Debra’s least favorite activities. Allan Manning had never allowed her to wear a dress as a child. She’d only bought two since she moved out on her own. She found the whole process uncomfortable, even though she looked good in dresses. Hell, she looked good in everything.

But, shopping exposed one of her weak spots. For a woman, as beautiful as Debra, her lack of knowledge of all things feminine put her at a disadvantage when trying to negotiate that realm. It kept her off balance, mainly because she was plagued by the nebulous fear of not knowing what it was she didn’t know. She had to guess at what constituted a stupid question, especially coming from a thirty-two-year-old woman. She felt sure that most of it was stuff she should have learned in high school, but she never did.

She pulled up in front of Bernadette O’Malley’s bungalow. This was awkward. Bernadette was probably dead, but Debra was in the untenable position of not being able to give official notification to the family. The whole matter was hanging in the air like a dark cloud of uncertainty. She pushed the doorbell and heard the shuffling of feet.

The door swung open inwardly. “Good afternoon, ma’am. My name is Detective Manning. May I come in and have a word with you?”

Judy’s face lost all its color and a wave of terror played across her features. Her hand trembled as she pushed open the screen door.

Manning frowned. A strange reaction before she had said anything.

“It’s Bernie, isn’t it? She’s dead. She was in her lab, wasn’t she?”

Okay, now the woman’s reaction was starting to make some sense.

“Well . . .”

“Judy Marx, I’m her roommate.”

“Well, Ms. Marx, I can’t confirm that to a certainty, but yes, we believe three people were killed in the explosion.”

“Oh my God. Andrew.” Judy buried her face in her hands.

“I realize this is a difficult time, but if you could answer some questions for me?”

Judy nodded. “Yes. I’ll help any way I can.” Judy blotted her eyes with a Kleenex tissue.

“What exactly were Andrew and Bernadette working on in the lab? Was it research into high explosives?”

Judy looked genuinely shocked. “No, no, nothing like that. They were studying aspects of the chemical basis for perception in the human brain. Andrew was looking for a treatment for schizophrenia.”

Debra took careful notes. “Did any of their work involve the use of volatile compounds?”

“No, not at all. Their work used pheromones and neurotransmitters. Stuff produced naturally in the body.”