Super Meals: Part Thirty Eight

He was going to have to call the cops. 

Well, the DA, he thought.

He didn’t want to, admittedly, but perhaps, if he was careful, he could get the information he needed and stay out of sight.

But before doing so, he needed supplies.

He’d worked out several plans in his head while he cleaned up his hotel room. He found housework meditative, and the simple acts of straightening up and putting things away helped him center and focus his mind once more. By the time he was finished restoring his room to a state that wouldn’t alarm the housekeeping staff, he’d worked out plans A though F. While he showered and changed, waiting for room service to deliver a late lunch, he worked out plans G through K. And in the car ride from the hotel to the hardware store, he finalized plans L through Q.

He’d never needed to get past Plan D, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Inside the front door and around the corner, the hardware store had a generic ATM next to a pair of vending machines. Doctor Ralph selected one of the credit cards registered to a name with a PO Box on the opposite side of the country and withdrew $200 cash, the maximum amount allowed by the machine.

He then took a credit card registered to a name with an address in a border town in Texas, and withdrew another $200.

Another credit card, another $200.

And again.

And one more time again, rounding his cash reserve up to an even $1,000. He made a mental note to phone each of the credit card companies and report each card stolen once he was done at this store, but before he made it to the next.

Doctor Ralph was systematic and smart, and his preparation required no less than four stores. Five, if he could manage it.

At this store he purchased a number of chemicals used in professional green house fertilization work, as well as a few hand tools. Nothing special, and nothing that would seem to imply he was anything other than a homeowner looking to improve his backyard garden and pick up a few things for the garage while he was at it.

In his car, between stores, he called the accounts department of the first credit card company and reported it had been stolen two days prior. “No ma’am, I just now noticed it was missing. The last time I used it was a couple of days ago, so I figure it must have been taken out of my wallet at the gym while I was showering or something,” he said. He adopted a slight southern accent for the call, in order to make it more memorable for the operator on the other end of the phone, and because he’d discovered that people from all over the country used southern accents. It was less of a regional accent than it was an attitude, a style that ignorant rednecks adopted, regardless of where they lived, he thought. He’d visited all 50 states and heard the accent used in every one of them – Alaska and Hawaii were the most striking examples, but he chalked it up to just another example of how very very odd humanity was.

When he got to the second store, he headed directly to the back.

They always kept guns near the back of the store.

To purchase the firearm and fill out the paperwork, he used an ID matching the name on the credit card that was just reported stolen. He couldn’t purchase any handguns, of course, because of the three-day waiting period, but he could get a 12-gauge shotgun and a charming little sport rifle called an AR-7 and walk away with them both immediately. He didn’t buy any ammunition, though, but insisted that he’d be back before the week was out, “Provided the wife lets me keep ‘em,” he said with a smile.

The sales clerk smiled back and said, “Oh, I got my wife an AR-7 just like that one a few years back! She hated guns before that, but nowadays she can almost out-shoot me!”

Doctor Ralph forced a laugh and gave the elderly gentleman a salute as he took his packages and headed for the door. He checked his wallet upon exiting and realized that he’d used the wrong credit card to buy the guns, but that would end up working in his favor when he reported it stolen. The fake name on the firearms registration not matching the name on the credit card they were purchased with would only lend credibility to the story of the stolen card.

At the third store he purchased another collection of gardening chemicals that were entirely benign. They contained polysyllabic ingredients and chemicals that were impressive, even to Doctor Ralph, but they were entirely harmless unless ingested.

At the fourth store, a tremendously huge big-box store coated in neon orange signs, Doctor Ralph bought another collection of gardening materials. Again, these were perfectly normal chemicals that guaranteed the user that a single dose would keep grass green and flowers blooming for months to come. Another bogus credit card used, then tossed in the trash in the parking lot, and the fruits of the shopping trip placed carefully in the trunk of his rental car.

Placed carefully, because these chemicals, when mixed in the right proportions with the chemicals purchased at the first and third stores, would create a highly volatile compound that was exponentially powerful. One cup, properly mixed, was equal to a single stick of dynamite. Two cups, however, had the explosive power of a bundle of four sticks of dynamite.

With what he had in the trunk, Doctor Ralph could make up to ten pounds.

The final store he visited was a big sporting goods store, where he bought a large duffel bag, a box of 100 rounds of .22 ammunition, and a box of 25 rounds of 12 gauge shotgun shells.

With that, he was out of identities. There was no one left for him to be but himself.

He felt strangely vulnerable, but also empowered. He was so used to doing things as someone else, covering his tracks and make sure that nobody ever knew he’d had a hand in things, that it was quite exciting to think that he was going to pull this off as himself, all by himself.

As he pulled away from the sporting goods store he dialed the District Attorney’s office. Her receptionist picked up and put him through to her immediately – making him wonder if the DA was expecting him.

“So glad to hear from you, doctor,” she said. “I hope you were able to find what you needed and get good use of our facilities?”

“Indeed I did, counselor,” he responded. “But I’m afraid I may have to impose upon you just a bit further.”

“Of course,” she said. “Consider my office to be at your disposal.”

“Thank you very much,” he said. “I’ll be sure pass word along to my colleagues that you’ve been extremely helpful to me and my company. I must say, your professionalism outshines your station, counselor. Have you ever considered practicing in a larger city?”

“I – well, I can’t say that the thought hasn’t crossed my mind…” she said, but her hesitancy had already told him everything he needed to know. She wanted out, and he was rich and powerful and had friends in high places. He could dangle the prospect of a better job in a better place in front of her and ride that opportunity train as far as he wanted to go.

“Wonderful! I think a woman of your talents and capabilities would do quite well in the world. By the way, I’ll need to use the laboratory just one more time. I hope that’s not a problem?”

“Of course not, doctor! I will make a call to our medical examiner as soon as we’re off the phone and give her a heads-up that you’re on your way, and to give you every consideration.”

“Oh,” he said. “I was hoping for some privacy, actually. You know how it is, I’m sure; corporate policy requires I work alone to avoid violating the nondisclosure agreements I’ve signed, and to protect our intellectual properties. We’ve got some rather sensitive materials here, after all.”

“I completely understand,” she said. “And the good news is that you will definitely have privacy. She’s been reassigned to desk duty for the time being, so she’ll only be there to fill out paperwork and catch up on her filing and reports. The labs will be all yours, and yours alone.”

He wasn’t happy about it, but he couldn’t overplay his hand and try to demand that they shut down the morgue entirely just to accommodate his bomb making.

“No worries at all,” he said. “I’ll be in and out in no time, I’m sure, and I will do everything I can to stay out of her way.”

He hung up the phone and was at the morgue within minutes. Parking on the street, he went to the trunk and carefully loaded everything into the duffel bag; chemicals, firearms, ammunition, tools. He shouldered the bag and strode into the building, down the stairs, and through the double-doors.

Jane was sitting behind the one desk, situated to the side of the stairs and in front of a bank of file cabinets. The fluorescents cast the whole hallway in a blue-gray glow, but there was a lamp on the desk that shone a more natural light upon the reports Jane was filling out. She looked up as Doctor Ralph approached.

“Doctor,” he said, smiling as he walked past.

“Doctor,” she responded.

Doctor Ralph paused in front of her and said, “By the way, I want to thank you for the use of your facilities. You have quite an excellent laboratory here, and it has been very helpful to my work.”

“And did you find what you were looking for?” asked Jane.

“Oh yes, indeed,” he said. “I’m afraid I’ll need just a little bit more use of the lab, though. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” said Jane. “Our lovely district attorney just called, in fact, and said to extend you every courtesy.”

Doctor Ralph smiled and said, “How very kind of her.” He turned to head down the hallway and Jane spoke up.

“You will,” she said, “stick to the laboratory, right?”

“Why do you ask?”

“We have an…” her breath hitched and her voice caught in her throat for a second, but she coughed and continued. “We have a new, active case in the autopsy room. I’m afraid it’s off limits to everybody not involved in the case.”

His smile widened and he said, “Of course, doctor. I wouldn’t dream of interfering with your investigation.” He didn’t wait for her response, but turned away and went straight to the laboratory.

As soon as the door closed, Jane pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed. It rang twice, then picked up. Before the other person could speak, she said, “Mimi? It’s him, he’s back. You need to get down here now.”