Chemical Burn (41 page)

Breakfast at the Rio

O’Neil sat across from me in the Rio Grande Café south of San Diego. He’d already polished off most of his pancakes, eggs, and bacon, with a second order of bacon on the way.

I’d picked him up in my T-Rex auto-cycle, a low-slung, two seat three wheeler with a roof and a sportbike engine. I had bought it two years prior as a perfect highway vehicle when I needed to go fast, corner hard, and avoid people chasing me. I’d chosen it that morning in celebration of the T-Rex case being blown sky high … literally. The auto-cycle didn’t have doors, so it had been difficult for us to talk on the way down. This was also part of my master plan. I had already downed my own breakfast of huevos rancheros and a double order of bacon.

Over breakfast I’d related most of the significant facts to O’Neil so he’d have everything he needed to put together the case against Shao and all of the dry cleaner operators. Xen had already sent all of the data he’d copied from Shao’s computer, and I provided the pictures from the whole facility by way of my goggles.

“I should still be pissed at you, by the way,” O’Neil said around his last mouthful of pancakes.

I was genuinely confused. “Why’s that? You’re a hero.” I poured six packets of sugar into a fresh cup of coffee and stirred it, staring at O’Neil.

“You never mentioned blowing up half of the California desert as part of your plan. I played hell covering that for you. We’re blaming it all on Russian gangsters. The two tons of coke and meth in that giant safe made things easier, though. A lot of it had been melted and charred, but still identifiable.”

“Me? There you go again always blaming everything on me.” I gave him a hurt look, and he paid it back with an
I-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that
look. Then he drank some coffee. “I’d never tell this inadmissible information to Captain O’Neil, but as your friend, I can assure you, Mister Smarty Pants, that I know with absolute certainty that Gino DiMarco is the one who set off that explosion.”

O’Neil’s disbelief was palpable. “Yeah … sure he did.”

“No, really. I wasn’t even in the building.…” I took another sip of coffee and added three more packets of sugar. “It’s not my fault he opened the door of his limousine. I mean, sure … I did cover the floor with flammable liquids, and I also put the motion sensing explosive by the door, but he’s the one who filled the building with all that stuff in the first place. He was reckless … and irresponsible. And I’d warned him to stay in the car. Had he done like I asked, he’d be fine … maybe.” I took another sip of now perfect coffee.

“So, how’d you find out about this place?” he asked, changing the subject as his second order of bacon arrived. “Come here often? It seems a little out of the way.”

I got a knowing smile on my face. I loved it when my plans worked out exactly the way I wanted them to. “Funny you should ask. An abatement guy told me about this place. Weird guy. He’s into all sorts of stuff. He’s a clown, you know.”

“Real crack-up, hunh?” He took a healthy bite of bacon.

“No. He’s an actual clown … make-up, funny nose, the works.”

O’Neil’s face looked confused around the bacon. “I thought you said he was an abatement guy.”

“He is … Stanley Fast Abatement Services.” I waited.

O’Neil paused, his fork hovering between mouth and plate. “Wait … Stanley Fast? As in Stanley Fast Catering and Clowning?”

“That’s him,” I confirmed, nodding.

Recognition spread across O’Neil’s face. “I know that guy … he did a birthday party for a friend of my youngest. Good food.”

“He does both … and more,” I added subtly. “Well, apparently he comes down here every now and again … part of one of his side jobs. He knows this pig farmer. They work together sometimes. Stanley said this place had the best bacon he’d ever eaten.” O’Neil took a big bite of bacon, clearly enjoying it. “So … how do you like it?” I asked, preparing to drop my bomb.

“You know, Stanley’s right. This is the best damn bacon I ever had. So, you said you were gonna tell me what happened to Bennie DiMarco.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” I said snapping my fingers and grinning wickedly.

I proceeded to tell O’Neil of Bennie’s demise. And then I told him how Bennie could very well have ended up on O’Neil’s plate. O’Neil stared at me with bland disdain, but he didn’t stop chewing, partially out of pride. I knew he’d be damned if he was going to let me get the best of him. I waited for what I knew was coming next.

“I hate you Case,” he said around a mouthful of the best bacon he’d ever had.

“I know,” I said, sipping my sickly sweet coffee.

***