Detective Cross

Chapter 35

Two days later, in the early evening, I was helping Nana Mama set the table for six. The aromas wafting from the oven were heavenly. Painfully hungry, I wished I’d eaten a bigger lunch.

“What time did you say dinner was?” Nana said.

“Six-thirty.”

My grandmother nodded and checked her watch. It was just shy of six. “That’ll be fine then. I’ll start the jasmine rice, and you can finish up here?”

“Seeing how you put this together on short notice, I’d be happy to.”

That pleased her. She opened the oven to take a peek at the lamb shanks, bone in, braising in the oven. It smelled so good my stomach growled.

“I heard that,” Bree said, and laughed as she came into the kitchen.

“The whole neighborhood heard it,” Nana Mama chuckled.

“It’s your fault,” I said. “My stomach’s just reacting to your latest masterpiece.”

That pleased her even more. I saw her smile as she put the rice into a cooker. Bree gave me a kiss and picked up the napkins.

“Good day?” I said.

She thought about it and said, “Yeah, you know, it was. The pressure was off, and I could think about something other than the bomber.”

“Mickey’s story shaking out?”

Bree cocked her head and pursed her lips, but nodded. “So far, but he broke about fifty different laws. He can’t get around that, even if he is a juvenile.”

“They’re making him sound awful sympathetic in the media,” I said.

She shrugged. “They’re focused on the mitigating circumstances.”

“What does that mean?” Nana said.

Bree explained the latest: Mickey Hawkes had cooperated fully since his arrest. Kate Williams had been absolutely right that there was no bomb in his vest.

The “plastic explosive blocks” he carried were actually large chunks of colored wax. The wiring was nonsensical, connected to no timer or triggering device whatsoever. Kate had recognized the wiring issues immediately, but wanted to see what Mickey was going to do with a fake vest.

Once the veterans’ bill had passed the Senate, bound for the President’s desk, Mickey Hawkes had surrendered. As he was led off the Capitol grounds in handcuffs, the crowd of vets on Constitution Avenue and Northeast Drive broke into cheers and applause.

“I watch the news. He’s got popular opinion on his side,” Nana Mama allowed. “But he did set off three bombs, and that plastic explosive at the Korean Memorial. And he did blackmail the Senate.”

She wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t the whole story. It turned out that the bombs on the Mall were made from muzzle-loader black powder, tamped into thick cardboard tubes and wrapped in duct tape. With no ball bearings or screws inside, they were basically large firecrackers.

Mickey had told Ned Mahoney that he found the small chunk of plastic explosive material buried in a locker sent back from US Special Forces in Afghanistan, shortly after the IED explosion that took his father’s arm and legs.

Mickey had done enough research to know that the small amount of C-4 could not do any significant damage — so he decided to leave it at the Korean Memorial to raise the stakes, making us believe he had access to unscented plastic explosives.

My grandmother seemed unconvinced.

“We were stumped on this, too, Nana,” Bree said.

I said, “But you have to hand it to him. He actually got Congress to act.”

“Pigs fly every once in a while,” Nana said.

“What?” Ali said, looking puzzled as he came into the kitchen. “They do not.”

“It’s just an expression,” sighed Jannie, who followed him, looking at her phone mid-texting. “It means that miracles can happen.”

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” I said, pausing to give Jannie a hug. “No phone at the table. No phone behind the wheel.”

She scrunched up her nose, but put her phone in her pocket. “A deal’s a deal.”

“Thank you for remembering,” I said, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Ali said, “I can’t believe she’s getting a car just for controlling her texting!”

As I was leaving the kitchen, Jannie said, “Maybe you’ll believe it when you need a ride.”

The doorbell rang again. I hustled down the front hall and opened it to Kate Williams.

“Welcome!” I said.

“Not too early?”

“Right on time. I hope you’re hungry for a home-cooked meal.”

Kate smiled. “It’s been a long time. It smells outstanding! I’m just happy to be invited, Dr. Cross.”

“Upstairs, I’m Alex. And you do look happy.”

Kate stopped in the hallway, grinning and lowering her voice. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I got a call from the lab at Quantico this morning. There’s a slot open in TEDAC, the Terrorist Explosive Device Analytical Center. They want me to interview for it!”

“Wow. That is great news! How did that happen?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe your friend? Agent Mahoney?”

“I’ll ask him if you want.”

“No, no, it doesn’t matter. I’m just... I can see a way forward now, Dr.... Alex, and I’m grateful.”