Mystery Powder Lab
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The second thing I learned was that the powder lab looked like a bomb went off in it. There were shards of glass everywhere, along with pieces of metal and some large black plastic objects that appeared to be components for something that had been built into a box about four feet wide by two feet deep. The whole mess had been covered over with trash bags.
But there was no way you could hide anything from me. It turned out that I’d grown up on an island where people used to make their own fireworks all the time, so I knew how they worked pretty well—at least at first glance. A good amateur pyro knows what things look like when they’re not being hidden under other stuff.
I found a piece of paper in one of the piles of garbage that said “Makeshift detonator” and took this as my starting point. The fact that it was handwritten made me think this might have been a student project gone wrong. In any case, whoever wrote down these instructions didn’t know much about explosives themselves, but they did a great job of describing them.
So I followed the directions exactly. Unloaded the contents of the box onto the table. Slipped on rubber gloves. Unloaded more tools from the drawer where I keep them. Sawed open one end of the box. Attached wires to it using a soldering iron. Attached are wires to a battery. Used a little bit of wire to attach a fuse to the detonator. Taped everything up inside the box.
Set the timer to ten seconds and then set the box down against the wall. Unloaded another box of ingredients and added them to the mix. It was a lot harder than I would have thought. You can never get enough bang for the buck from homemade explosives.
When I opened that box, I got a bunch of small gray rocks that weren’t particularly interesting. This is why I prefer to use a professional company for my business. If you want big explosions, they’ve got the best product line anywhere.
It was while I was working on the detonator that I heard a familiar voice coming through the door. “Hey, Jonah! What are you doing?” I recognized it right away. Oh, crap. It was just too perfect. Now the cops would be here in five minutes. “This isn’t funny,” I told him. He said nothing. Just came over and picked up my video camera. “Give me that back!” I demanded.
He threw it at me. I caught it. Watched him disappear around a corner. Unloaded a couple of boxes and put them aside. Found a note in one of them that said “Cops don’t need to see what we do behind closed doors.” Read it over. Got really angry for some reason. Unloaded two more boxes.
They were both filled with black powder and dynamite, but the dynamite wasn’t connected together yet. Made sure each was attached properly by checking with the other pieces. Unloaded another box that had a bunch of gunpowder inside of it and a note saying “Fireworks will make your house shake when it blows up.
No damage though.” Unloaded the rest of the boxes, leaving them stacked neatly beside the detonator. Took off my gloves. Unloaded two guns and set them aside. Unloaded another bag that contained a huge amount of ammunition, but I decided I didn’t really need that much firepower. Unloaded one of my knives and left it lying on top of the pile of weapons.
Unloaded my backpack, which was full of all sorts of interesting things. Unloaded the last box. Unloaded three or four bottles of pills, but most of those had already been taken. Unloaded a few vials of chemicals and a bottle of alcohol, plus a note saying “You’ll need these if you plan to survive.” Unloaded the remaining tools from the drawer.
Unloaded a pocketknife I carry with me wherever I go. Unloaded a pair of handcuffs that I usually leave locked up in my safe. Unloaded a roll of duct tape and a lighter. Unloaded a tube of superglue and a note saying “Not very useful without the glue.”
And now it was done.
Everything that could be unloaded was unloaded. Everything that should be loaded was loaded. All I needed to do was wait for the police to show up, light the fuse, and hope that nobody saw it.
I sat down on the floor next to the detonator and waited. My heart pounded wildly in my chest. The clock was ticking loudly. Fifteen minutes passed. Thirty minutes passed. Forty minutes passed. Fifty minutes passed.
And still, I waited. At seventy minutes, my nerves started to fray. But then I realized something: I hadn’t seen any police cars pull up outside. I couldn’t hear sirens. There must not be any cops nearby.
The only problem was, I didn’t know how far away they actually were. Or if someone else might spot us before we blew ourselves up.
Then, finally, there was a knock at the door. Damn. That’s way too late. Why would anyone come knocking so long after the explosion?
But no matter. Maybe they’re here to arrest me instead. Let’s face it; I’m the kind of guy who always gets himself into trouble like this. I mean, look at the name of my blog. Not very subtle. Then again, I guess if people read that blog, they’d probably understand why I write it the way I do.
A man stood in the doorway, smiling at me. A cop. An undercover cop, judging by his uniform. His badge hung on a chain around his neck. I recognized him instantly. He was the same cop I’d talked to yesterday about getting out of jail early. We exchanged greetings. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I answered.
He looked at me suspiciously. “Are you kidding?”
“No.”
“Why did you blow yourself up?”
“To get out of prison early.”
His smile widened. “That’s brilliant. Did you think of that on your own?”
“Nope. I stole it from an old movie.”
“Well, let’s go check this place out.” He turned toward the front door.
There were two officers waiting outside. Both had their hands cuffed behind their backs. One officer led them inside. As soon as I got a good look at them, I knew they weren’t cops. “These aren’t the real cops,” I explained. “They’re here because they want to take me to jail.”
The undercover cop nodded approvingly. “Good thinking. So where is this bomb?”
My stomach twisted nervously. If he found the detonator, he wouldn’t believe me when I claimed it was a joke. It was time to try something new. “It doesn’t exist anymore.”
Both men looked confused. I felt stupid. “Never mind. You guys can have fun looking for it. Just keep searching until the explosion happens.”
One of them frowned. “Explosion?”
I pointed to the ceiling. “Don’t worry. I made sure the house will explode safely. It won’t hurt anybody. But the cops may find something interesting.”
The officers glanced upward. “Maybe.”
I grinned at the man. “Or maybe not. Depends on what they find.”
***
The officers spent over an hour going through the contents of the house. They took everything apart, even breaking some stuff just to see how it worked. I don’t remember exactly what happened, but I eventually lost patience. I told them to stop. I didn’t care what they found.
Finally, after a lot more discussion, they decided to give up. One of them came back into the living room. “Okay,” she said. “You’ve proven that explosives are missing. Now, let’s talk about motive.”
I smiled. “Motive?”
She shook her head. “We’ve already determined that the explosives aren’t missing. What makes you think there’s a reason for them to disappear?”
I shrugged. “Because somebody wanted to destroy the evidence.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Who would do such a thing?”
I laughed. “Me!”
For several seconds, neither one of us spoke. Finally, she sighed and shook her head. She went to sit down on the couch. “Look, kid. Do you really think that’s funny?”
“Not really.”
“Fine. Well, then tell me who you think would benefit from blowing themselves up.”
“Nobody benefits,” I replied with certainty. “But if I were to ask myself who would make me do it, well, it might be a person named Roger.”
Roger. Of course.
As far as I remembered, Roger hadn’t been arrested yet. The police had never figured out anything against him other than being part of a burglary ring. I doubted they’d ever catch him, or anyone else involved. Which meant I could claim that the whole thing was a setup. No one would believe me, but it would buy me some time to figure things out.
If I was lucky enough, I might still manage to escape. After all, nobody believed I’d blown myself up. Even if the police did figure out who I was, they couldn’t prove I’d done it. Or could they? There were so many possibilities. Was it possible they’d actually managed to link my fingerprints to the explosive device? Could that happen without my knowledge? And what about my DNA?
Had someone used me to create a sample, then planted it on the bomb itself? That seemed unlikely since I wasn’t wearing any clothes at the time. But if it had happened, would the authorities know which particular person had been responsible for planting the sample? How could I explain that?
Would they accept my explanation that it must have come from my mother, who’d once tried to kill me? Or would they realize that my mother was dead now too? Then again, if my mother was truly gone, why should I be afraid of saying so? I could probably bluff my way past it.
I considered telling the officers that Roger had hired me to commit the crime. This idea seemed crazy in retrospect. Why would I admit to a murder I’d committed? Yet I was convinced I was onto something. When the woman returned, she brought a cup of coffee. I accepted the offer and drank half of it while watching her closely.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” I drained the rest of the liquid in the mug. It tasted like crap. “Why did you bring me a coffee?”
She stared at me suspiciously. “Doesn’t matter.”
I gave her a strange look. “Sure it does. Maybe we should get started talking before we go home. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” she agreed reluctantly. “Do you want the truth, or what?”
“Either works fine with me.”
She nodded. “Well, when you first came here, you mentioned your name is Paul. Is this true?”
“It is.”
“And where are you from originally?”
“New York.”
“How long ago?”
I paused to think. “About three years.”
She pursed her lips. “You’re lying.”
I laughed. “No. Sorry. I’m not trying to hide anything.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh good. So tell me, why did you lie to begin with?”
I thought carefully. “Maybe because I didn’t feel comfortable revealing personal information right off the bat.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
My mind raced frantically. I needed to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t seem totally ridiculous. A couple minutes passed in silence. As much as I hated to admit it, I was beginning to panic. If I wasn’t careful, these people would end up locking me away forever.
Then, suddenly, I remembered something. “Wait! You don’t need to know everything just yet. Let’s save questions for later. We can talk about those issues after I’ve had a chance to cool off and consider the facts more objectively.”
The woman looked unconvinced. “Are you sure?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll give you that. But let me say, though, that I am very curious how you plan to convince me that you haven’t been playing a game.”
There was a pause, then she said, “Okay. Fine. Now, about the explosion—what was the purpose behind it?”
This was exactly what I wanted. I took another sip of coffee. “To destroy evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
I hesitated. I’d known the answer before asking the question, but there was no point in giving them clues until I was certain they weren’t going to try to trick me into admitting something incriminating. “A crime,” I finally decided.
The woman frowned. She studied me carefully for several seconds.
“Did you see anything unusual when you arrived here?” I asked. “Anything different from before?”
Her brow furrowed even further. “What do you mean?”
I sighed. “Let me put it this way: Did you notice anything odd about the room when you walked inside?”
After a few moments, she shook her head. “No.”
“Hmm…”
Another awkward moment followed. My brain felt fried from overthinking every move I made.
Finally, she cleared her throat. “So…why are you here?”
I smiled. “Same reason you are. To figure out who murdered Mr. Johnson.”
The End