Super Meals: Part Forty

            Mimi immediately killed the siren and wrenched the wheel to the side, skidding the car to a stop at the curb. “Who is this and what do you want?” she asked.

            Before Doctor Ralph could respond, she hit the mute button with her thumb and pulled the phone away from her ear, saying, “Shut up and listen.” She then un-muted the phone and switched on the speaker.

            “—eed to speak with the gentleman you went to the park with this morning, and I’m afraid I have been unable to locate him. And who do you call when you need to find a missing person? The police, of course!”

            Walter shrank back into his seat, and Mimi said, “So you were gonna call me?”

            “Well,” said Doctor Ralph, “eventually, yes, actually. But I had some other business to attend to, first, and your district attorney has been most accommodating. It’s a shame that Doctor Jane here had to enter into the equation, but, so it goes.”

            “How do you expect me to find him?” asked Mimi.

            “Officer Spatchcock, I really hate the anti-police rhetoric that seems to prevalent in our society, and I choose to believe that most law-enforcement agents are both intelligent and resourceful. As a woman, you must be doubly so in order to rise through the ranks at all in such a small town. So I’ll leave you to your own devices on finding our mystery patient.”

            Adam and Walter shared a look, and Adam mouthed the word patient? Mimi looked between the two of them, but said into the phone, “I’m gonna need some time to dig him up. He could be at work, he could be at home—”

            “You have thirty minutes.”

            “Half an hour!?”

            “Yes, Officer Spatchcock. This town is painfully small, and you’re a cop. If you took the highway with your lights on and your foot to the floor, I imagine you could make it from one side of town to the other in less than three minutes, and this isn’t like in the movies where you get some ridiculously long amount of time to formulate a plot or assemble your forces. Thirty minutes, that’s all. In thirty one minutes, the good doctor and, most likely, the majority of this morgue, will be a smoking heap of rubble if you’re not here with the man. Can we assume you’re going to take me seriously?”

            “What do you mean?”

            Doctor Ralph sighed into the phone. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

            Mimi, genuinely confused, asked, “Say what?”

            “Oh, fine, if you want to drag it out.” Doctor Ralph cleared his throat. “If I see anybody other than you and our mutual friend, I will kill them, and Doctor Jane here. If I see any other cops in the area before you arrive, I will kill them, and Doctor Jane. If I think I hear anybody trying to sneak into the building, I will kill them, Doctor Jane, and simply blow up the building. Are you happy now?”

            Mimi said, “Yes, I understand now. I will see you in less than thirty minutes.”

            Before she hung up, Doctor Ralph said, “When you come in, I want both you and he to announce yourselves. If I hear a third set of footsteps or any other voices…death, destruction, mayhem, etcetera, etcetera.”

            Doctor Ralph hung up before Mimi could.

            She looked at Walter in the back seat. He opened his mouth to speak, but there were no words. He was completely out of his depths.

            In the front seat, Adam lit a cigarette.

            With his finger.

            Mimi looked at him and said, “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

            “I’m having a smoke,” said Adam. “Relax, I’m rolling the window down,” he said, hitting the button on the door and watching the glass descend.

            “Dude, you can’t smoke in a cop car,” said Walter.

            “Bitch, I’m supposed to be dead, remember? What’s she gonna do, arrest me?”

            “Don’t be a dick. Toss it, will ya? Time’s wasting and we gotta think of something.”

            “Fine, be a pussy,” said Adam, flicking the cigarette at Walter and hitting him in the chest.

            “Mother fucker!” shouted Walter, reaching for the cigarette and burning his fingers as he picked it up and threw it out the window.

            “The fuck did you do that for?” shouted Mimi.

            “Fucker can’t feel pain, remember?” shouted Adam right back.

            “I felt that, asshole!” shouted Walter.

            “Then have another burger!” shouted Adam.

            Everybody stopped shouting.

            Mimi looked at Walter, who smiled.

            Mimi said, “You hungry?”

            Walter said, “I could go for a last meal.”

            Back at the morgue, Doctor Ralph hung up the phone and walked back to the laboratory. Inside, Jane was sitting in an old wooden office chair and holding perfectly still.

            The reason she was holding perfectly still was because she was about to explode.

            “I hope you’ll forgive my crude setup,” said Doctor Ralph. “But I don’t imagine you have much in the way of restraints here, do you?”

            Jane, remaining as still as possible, said, “No.”

            “I thought not,” said Doctor Ralph, striding across the room and picking up the shotgun from the table next to her. He racked the slide open and began to load it with shells from the box on the table. Jane kept her head locked in place, but her eyes were fixed on the shotgun.

            When it was fully loaded, Doctor Ralph set it aside and loaded the AR-7.

            “I do appreciate your patience, however. I promise, when the time comes, I will do everything I can to make sure you don’t suffer at all.”

            Jane dared to cock an eyebrow.

            “I’m sorry, but you must understand, I can’t let you live. But don’t worry, it won’t hurt at all, I’m certain.” He picked up the shotgun and, with a gun in each hand, turned away from her towards the workbench. As he moved, the barrels of both guns swung closer to her face, causing her to recoil, but only slightly. As she flinched, the chair moved ever so slightly, and the sound of crunching glass froze Jane in place.

            Doctor Ralph had wedged test-tube bombs into the swivel of the chair, and under the rocking mechanism. If Jane moved too far in any direction, at least one would burst, causing an explosion.

            To prevent her from moving further, he’d wedged bombs under the wheels of the chair.

            Her eyes scanned the room, trying to figure a way out of it, but unless she could figure out a way to fly or float straight upwards out of the chair, she was trapped.

            She hoped Mimi could help her.

            She hoped to even see Mimi again.

            Six blocks away, Mimi’s  car blazed into the parking lot of the fast food restaurant and screamed to a stop. She and Walter and Adam all jumped out and ran inside, where Mimi held her badge out in front of her and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for the inconvenience, but this is a police emergency. Please remain calm and patient and we will be out of your way in no time.”

            The three of them pushed their way through the line of people at the register, ultimately shoving aside a middle-aged woman with a sweater tied around her shoulders who was hemming and hawing over which mocha-frappa-latte-chino to order. She threw a burning look at Walter and Adam and started to say, “What do you think you’re—” but Mimi cut her off, stepping between them with badge and gun in hand.

            “Did you have something you wish to say, ma’am?”

            The soccer mom huffed and turned her nose up as she spun around and stormed out of the restaurant. Mimi looked at the rest of the crowd gathered around them and said, “Again, I thank you all for your patience, this should only take a minute or two.”

            The woman behind the counter (aged forty-six, looked fifty-six, working for unpaid overtime, again) swallowed hard and said, “Y-y-yes?” She cleared her throat. “I mean, um, welcome to—”

            “Skip it,” said Mimi. “Just take the order.” She nodded at Walter.

            “O…okay,” she said. “What would you like, sir?”

            Walter leaned in, putting both hands on the counter and tilting his head until he was looking at her from the tops of his eyes. “Whaddaya got on the secret menu?”

            “S-secret menu?” said the woman behind the counter.

            Walter straightened up a little and said, “Yeah. The secret menu. You’ve got one, right?”

            “Dude, are you trying to be cool?” asked Adam.

            “What? No. I’m just trying to order,” said Walter.

            “You don’t have a secret menu?” asked Mimi.

            “Not at this store, ma’am,” said the woman behind the counter.

            “What do you mean you don’t have one at this store? You’re part of a chain!” said Walter.

            “Dumbass,” said Adam.

            “I’m afraid you’re going to have to order from the regular menu, sir,” said the woman behind the counter.

            “And hurry it up, would you?” asked Mimi. “We’re running out of time.”

            “But how am I supposed to know what to order?” asked Walter, panicking.

            “Do you want me to order for you?” asked Adam.

            “No!” shouted Walter.

            “Then hurry the fuck up, we gotta go.” Said Mimi.

            “Fine. Give me…”