Cherry Bomb
Authors: J. A. Konrath
A Jacqueline “Jack” Daniels Mystery
Cherry Bomb
J. A. Konrath
This book is dedicated to my wife,
my one true love,
and my very best friend.
Happily, they’re all the same person.
You’re magic, Maria.
Contents
Chapter 1
AT MY FIANCÉ’S FUNERAL I got a phone call from…
Chapter 2
MILES AWAY, Alexandra Kork sits in a coffee store chain,…
Chapter 3
TURNING LATHAM’S FUNERAL into a crime scene didn’t endear me…
Chapter 4
THE MAN’S WRINKLES are caked with filth, and the layers…
Chapter 5
I WANTED TO GET GOOD AND DRUNK, but I’d been…
Chapter 6
AN ASTHMATIC BLOWS HARDER than the complimentary hair dryer in…
Chapter 7
I CABBED IT from the Crime Lab, heading for the…
Chapter 8
STUN GUNS WORK on two levels. The first is through…
Chapter 9
“STOP THE CAB.”
Chapter 10
ALEX HAS THE CAR RADIO cranked to the max, singing…
Chapter 11
“I WAS WONDERING when you’d call, Jackie. Did you buy…
Chapter 12
THE JORDAN HISTORICAL SOCIETY, located only a mile from the…
Chapter 13
“YOU SHOULD TURN THE PHONE IN, Jack.”
Chapter 14
ALEX SITS IN A BOOKSTORE CAFÉ, dressed in her funeral…
Chapter 15
PHIN WORE JEANS and a white T-shirt, an outfit I’d…
Chapter 16
ALEX CAN’T SLEEP.
Chapter 17
“SO FAR,” Herb’s voice was tired, frustrated, “not a single…
Chapter 18
THE HONDA’S SPEEDOMETER is up over ninety mph, and has…
Chapter 19
THE CRIMEBAGO ACCELERATED with the speed and grace of a…
Chapter 20
ALEX PUSHES THE PATROL CAR up past 120, sirens screaming…
Chapter 21
SOME URBAN LEGENDS are too good to be false. There’s…
Chapter 22
ALEX CALLS ALAN’S ROOM from the house phone in the…
Chapter 23
SCOTT HAJEK’S EYES bugged out when he saw me, and…
Chapter 24
“GOOD CALL ON THE FISH, CYNTHIA. The prime rib was…
Chapter 25
THE PHONE WOKE ME UP. In the darkness of the…
Chapter 26
ALEX DREAMS.
Chapter 27
“I GOT NOTHING, SIS.”
Chapter 28
ALEX WAKES to the ringing of the hotel phone and…
Chapter 29
“HOW’S OUR TIME?” Phin asked.
Chapter 30
LUCKY BITCH.
Chapter 31
I FELT LATHAM’S ARM slip around my waist and I…
Chapter 32
ALAN ISN’T A BAD-LOOKING GUY. Not as muscular as Lance,…
Chapter 33
HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE to get donuts?
Chapter 34
ALEX CLIMBS OFF THE BED. Naked. Satisfied. Bloody.
Chapter 35
PHIN AND I STARED AT EACH OTHER for a little…
Chapter 36
THE COP UNIFORM has gone from asset to liability. Showing…
Chapter 37
“SQUEEZE IT,” I told Phin. “But be soft and gentle”
Chapter 38
ALEX HEADS EAST, wondering if she’ll pass Jack on the…
Chapter 39
AS SOON AS I GOT off the phone with Alex…
Chapter 40
NOW THAT WAS GREAT. The only thing missing was sound.
Chapter 41
“JACK! PUT ON YOUR DAMN SEAT BELT!”
Chapter 42
“OH MY GOD!” Samantha squeals. “Those boots are to die…
Chapter 43
AFTER THREE HOURS of sitting next to a cornfield, hiding…
Chapter 44
ALEX HAS THE WINDOW CRANKED DOWN—a temporary solution for the…
Chapter 45
NO PHOTO THIS TIME. But the first text message was…
Chapter 46
ANOTHER DRIVE, BUT SHORTER THIS TIME.
Chapter 47
BY THE TIME I found a room for the night…
Chapter 48
THE MORNING AND EARLY AFTERNOON are going to be uneventful.
Chapter 49
IT WAS ALL I COULD DO not to tear out…
Chapter 50
PERFECT. ABSOLUTELY PERFECT. The male stripper Laugh-O-Gram showed up with…
Chapter 51
THE FEEBIES ARRESTED ME AT THE HOSPITAL.
Chapter 52
ALEX YAWNS, STRETCHES, AND OPENS HER EYES. The hotel room…
Chapter 53
I STEPPED ONTO VAN BUREN, walking out of the Metropolitan…
Chapter 54
“HEY! NORMA BATES! You’re the one who needs to cover…
Chapter 55
“IT’S AN ABANDONED LOT,” Alex said. “On Old Higgins Road,…
Chapter 56
I OPENED MY EYES, stared up at empty sky.
Chapter 57
“I’M READY TO SAY GOODBYE.”
Chapter 58
NOT PERFECT, but not bad.
Chapter 59
IT ISN’T MURDER. Like my dad said, killing a rabid…
Chapter 60
I WAS SWEEPING UP my wreck of a house—something I’d…
CHERRY BOMB
1 oz. vodka
1½ oz. white crème de cacao
¾ oz. grenadine
1 maraschino cherry
Shake vodka, crème de cacao,
and grenadine with ice.
Pour into a rocks glass.
Garnish with cherry.
A
T MY FIANCÉ’S FUNERAL
I got a phone call from the woman who killed him.
“I checked the Weather Channel.” Her tone was conversational, cheery. “It’s raining in Chicago. That’s appropriate, don’t you think? Funerals on sunny days seem so wrong.”
The pastor hit the switch, and the mechanical winch lowered Latham’s casket into the ground on black canvas straps. Slow, like it was sinking into a swamp. The rain beaded up on the lacquered oak lid and I had an irrational urge to find a towel, wipe it dry. Latham didn’t deserve to spend eternity wet.
“I’m coming after you,” I whispered into the phone.
“That’s what he said. Before I shot him. He said you’d come after me. Latham had faith in you until the very end, Jack. Like a puppy dog. Poor guy. Murdered, just for loving the wrong woman.”
My partner, Sergeant Herb Benedict, had been staring at me since the phone rang. Herb’s black suit was purchased back when he weighed less, the tightness making his large stomach seem even larger. His free hand—the one that wasn’t holding the crutch—reached up and touched my shoulder.
Alex?
he mouthed.
I nodded.
“Is this your grand plan, Alex? Calling me to make me feel guilty?”
“I don’t need to make you feel guilty, Jack. You’re already guilty. Latham was a good man. I would have preferred shooting you in the head, but our game isn’t over yet. Later today I’m sending you a picture over the phone. Twelve hours from then, the man in the picture will die. Unless you can find him and save him. I hope, for his sake, you do a better job than you did with your fiancé.”
I gripped the cell phone so hard my hand was shaking. Latham’s casket dropped below ground level, and the tears on my face mingled with the rain. I managed to keep my voice even.
“And what if I don’t want to play your game?”
“The man I’m going to kill has a wife and kids. Leading the kind of life that you might have led, if you weren’t burying your future. If you don’t make an effort to save him, the next picture I send you will be of a playground filled with children. How much more guilt can you handle before you crumble and blow away?”
I wiped my cheeks, then turned away from the grave. Latham’s family stared hard at me. No pity in their eyes. Only disdain.
“Don’t cry. And if I may be blunt, don’t you think that skirt you’re wearing is a little short? Not very appropriate, unless you’re cruising the funeral for a rebound fuck.”
I glanced down at my knee-length dress, then did a quick 360.
“Careful, Jack. You’re spinning so fast you may knock your fat partner off his crutch.”
I covered the phone and faced Herb. “She’s here.”
Herb hit his lapel mike, turning on his radio and calling for a perimeter sweep. There were more than fifty cops at the funeral. As they scattered I dug my. 38 Colt out of my Gucci handbag and walked away from the grave site, scanning tombstones and monuments, heels sinking into the wet sod, worming my way through Latham’s family while they shamed me with hateful glares.
“You brought a gun to a funeral, Jack?” Alex asked. “Were you expecting me to show up?”
“I was hoping.”
The October wind kicked up, blowing dead leaves and cold air across my scalp, making my stitches sting. Twenty-plus years of on the job training made me keep low, a smaller target. Not that it mattered. Alex was a crack shot.
“Turn left,” Alex said, “another few yards, next to the mausoleum. There’s an angel watching over you.”
I followed instructions, feeling like I had a bull’s-eye on my forehead, and not minding much. I ran my eyes along the slanting granite roof of the stone structure, and noticed the statue of a cherub perched on top. Something was duct-taped to his hand. I moved in closer, gun arm extended, and saw it was a camera phone.
“Twelve hours, Jack. Then he dies. And keep your cell on. Never know when I might call with a hint. Don’t fail him like you failed Latham.”
Alex hung up. My legs decided they didn’t want to support me anymore, and I fell to my knees, my gun hand dropping to my side, cursing the day I became a police officer.