The Boardwalk Bomber

By Michael Jesse

Chapter 15

The TV was on mute but closed-captioning was on and I squinted to read it. But I was too late. The news went on to other topics so I ran out of the bar and up the boardwalk to my place where I called McCain's cellphone. It rang several times and I nearly hung up when she answered.

"Hey there," I said. "It's Jack Durham."

"I knew it was a mistake giving you this number."

"Oh, I've hardly abused it yet. Did I call at a bad time?" I looked at my watch. It was a few minutes after ten.

"Yes. I was in the tub after a sixteen hour day. What is it?"

"Uh, in the tub? Sorry about that. So ... you're standing there dripping?"

"None of your business. What is it you wanted?"

"I forget."

"Good night, Jack."

"No, wait, I remember. Brinckman got arrested."

"Yes I'm aware of that. Thanks for the tip though."

"Wait. I wasn't trying to tell you something you already know, but all I know is what I just saw on TV, which wasn't much. What happened?"

"Well he went to the cemetery and found Hulman already there visiting the grave. Got royally ticked off and used that metal footrest on his chair to scratch up Hulman's car."

"I assume Brandi was there too. He doesn't drive, does he?"

"No he doesn't and yes, she was there. She said she did her best to stop him but he threatened to fire her and she backed off and let him go at it. Hulman came running up and they had a shouting match until someone called in a complaint."

"So you brought Binckman in?

"I didn't personally, but yeah, a squad car went out to the scene and escorted them in. They let him ride in his van but they brought him in. Booked him on misdemeanor property damage and released on his own recognizance. Hulman's pressing charges so there's a court date."

I heard water sloshing near the phone. "Are you back in the tub?"

"None of your business. What, did you expect me to stand there air drying while you quizzed me on the case?"

"No, I'm just readjusting my mental image."

"I'm hanging up now, Jack."

"No, wait. I'll be good. So does this surprise you? I got the impression Brinckman was pretty aloof. Not one to go berserk emotionally I thought."

"He didn't go berserk emotionally. According to witnesses he scratched up the car calmly and methodically.

"Well for my money Hulman is the crazier of the two. That whole thing about his 'relationship' with Barbara Brinckman."

"I agree," she said. "I talked to several of her friends and they said Hulman was basically stalking her."

"Did she feel threatened?"

"Apparently not. She just found him increasingly creepy and a pest, but she didn't want to hurt his feelings. According to her friends she was ticked off at him for telling people that they'd been involved when as far as she was concerned they never were."

"So the rumors Hulman mentioned
were started by Hulman himself?"

"Seems so," she said, and in the background I heard the loud gurgle of a drain.

"Bath over?"

"Yes, and so is this little chat."

"Oh, okay. Hey, want to go sailing with me?"

"Not right now, thank you."

"I didn't mean now. Tomorrow."

"I'm working tomorrow. Some of us work."

"I work"

"Then how can you go sailing tomorrow?"

"I have flexible hours."

"Very flexible from what I've seen."

"Okay, how about Sunday?"

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"Well, you could put it that way."

"Then I would have to say no."

"Or not put it that way."

"Because it wouldn't be appropriate for one thing."

"This wouldn't be a date."

"And you need to know I'm not ... available."

"Not available for a date."

"No."

"How about for sailing? Would you be available for sailing?"

"I've never been sailing."

"You'd love it. Very exhilarating -- in a non-date sort of way."

There was a pause. "I'll think about it," she said. "But I have to go now."

"To do what?"

"None of your business. Post-bath things."

"Ohhhh, yeah. All those little lotions and stuff."

"Something like that. But I'm not giving you any details."

"Oh c'mon," I said. "I'm good with details. I'm a detail kinda guy."

"Good night, Jack."

The next morning I left the "closed" sign in the window and rode my bike down to the college. I knew where Brinckman's office was and I knew his class schedule. But he wasn't the one I wanted to see.

At 8:45 I was in the parking lot of the physics and mathematics building making a show of tinkering with my engine. I was sitting on the curb and had a couple of tools out. I was also positioned in between the building and Brinckman's van. I spotted Brandi leaving the building and busied myself taking out a spark plug as she approached.

"Uh-oh, somebody's toy broke down," she called out perkily.

I looked up and showed a small surprise. "Hey there," I said.

"Hey yourself. I can give you a ride somewhere if your wheels ain't moving."

I stood up. "Thanks, but I'm done.

"Well I like motorcycles. I used to have a little 350 Kawasaki."

"Chick bike," I said with mock dismissiveness.

"It was red," she went on, "with the cutest little racing stripe."

"And you don't have it anymore?"

"Nah, sold it. Dr. B always bitched about the noise anyway."

"I, uh, saw him on the news last night," I said. "Is everything okay?"

She sighed. "Yeah, you and everybody else in town saw it. I feel bad for him because even though he acts like he doesn't care what anybody thinks, it's not true. He cares about his reputation among the other profs. He won't let on like he's embarrassed, but I know he is."

"He doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who gets embarrassed easily -- but then he also didn't strike me as someone who'd ever lose control either."

"That's the thing," she exclaimed, patting me on the leg for emphasis. "Dr. B is a control freak to beat all control freaks. He does have a temper, oh boy does he. But even when he's totally ticked off he's always in control of the situation. He'll tell you off like you have never been told off before and he will, like, put you on the spot and quiz you about everything you should have done right but didn't -- and then he doesn't listen to five words of your answer before he's telling you off again."

"Sounds like you speak from personal experience."

"Oh I do. I mean, I'm on the spot on a real regular basis, but he just has to vent and then he's fine. I've never seen him do something like this before."

"Well maybe that was because of Hulman. I mean, I've heard rumors about him and Mrs. Brinckman ..."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Most of that talk is from people who don't know one way or the other. Mrs. B said poor Dr. Hulman was just lovestruck and infatuated and that she saw him only as a friend. Personally, I'm not sure that's the end of the story, but I'm not one to spread rumors and it doesn't matter now anyway."

"No," I agreed, "but if there really was something to it that might explain why Dr. Brinckman got so upset at the cemetery."

She shrugged. "Guess it would, but other than my own suspicions I don't have any reason to think that."

"Well," I said carefully. "A lot of times a feeling of suspicion comes to you for a good reason, even if you can't say exactly what that is."

She shook her head and went silent. Time to change the subject. "Say, it turns out we have another mutual friend."

"You mean besides Andy? And Dr. B?"

"Well, I'm not sure that last one counts. No, I mean Bigfoot."

Her eyes lit up and a grin stretched out her face. "You mean you're buds with that big ol' sweet lug?"

"Well we've met a few times."

"No kidding? And how did my name come up?"

"Oh, I don't know, let's see... . I think maybe we were listing the most beautiful women we'd ever met or something like that."

She squealed and slapped me on the leg. "You fibber!"

"Not by much. You were mentioned in a very positive manner. "

"Is that sooooooo? Welllll, my my. He is a sweet lug, I know that. I remember thinking he was sweet back in high school, but I never even thought of him romantically back then."

"Why not?"

She laughed. "He probably didn't tell you this, but he was ... different back then."

"Different how?"

"Well he had hair of course. Big old shaggy head of never-combed hair. And he'd gotten his face and body hair pretty young. I mean, it seems normal on him now but at fifteen-sixteen years old he was like freakily hairy. And being so big -- that's how he got to be called Bigfoot."

"Yeah I guessed that," I said. "So you weren't attracted to him back then because he was big and hairy?"

"Well not just that." She paused. "He was also ... fat."

"Ohhhh. Well he's fairly heavy now, but it seems to be mostly muscle."

"Not in those days. He was just a big, fat, hairy uncool boy who could not look a girl in the eye and talk at the same time. He was my lab partner in chemistry class and I could tell he sorta looked at me when he thought I wasn't noticing. Lots of boys did that cuz I was quite the popular cheerleader chick in those days. I've gotten chunkier in my old age."

I laughed dismissively. "You're not 'chunky' by any definition, and you're not remotely 'old'. What are you, 30??"

Like any man with more than one functioning brain cell I knew better than to let a woman make a comment like that without overcorrecting immediately in the other direction -- and as sincerely as possible. It worked. She grabbed my head like a football and planted a kiss on my cheek, just barely off the mouth. Then she shouted, "I'm 42 -- same as Ervin."

"Well you sure don't look it." Actually she did, but it's a great age. Women usually end up looking better at 35 or 40 than they did at 20, but they don't believe it when you tell them (probably because you still notice the 20-year-olds too). And she wasn't thin, but had the kind of solid build that short athletic women often have. There's no way a man can describe it out loud and survive the attempt, but the truth is it's actually very attractive.

Best to get off the topic while you're ahead. "You call him Ervin? Isn't Bigfoot a cooler name?"

"Maybe now it is, but that started out as a put-down."

"Wow, really?"

"Yep. I mean, obviously he's okay with it now."

"Hmmm. So you and Ervin were lab partners, huh?"

"Which was actually a lucky thing for me, because I sucked at chemistry and he knew how to do everything. He did all of our experiments all by himself while I was busy being popular. We barely spoke."

"Okay, so Bigfoot -- Ervin -- was a completely uncool dweeb who was good at chemistry and you were Miss Popularity Total Babe Cheerleader. And years go by and you bump into each other again. How did that happen?"

"Didn't he tell you that?"

"Well I'm trying to remember. Something about seeing each other on the news after the bombings?"

"Yeah. I saw him on the TV news. And if I hadn't heard the name "Bigfoot" I probably wouldn't have recognized him. What a hunk he turned out to be. I called him up. Did he tell you that?"

I nodded. "He was impressed by that I think."

She grinned. "When he answered the phone he was so tough sounding, but when he realized it was me he started stammering and he sounded like the old Ervin. It was cute."

"And then what happened?"

She made a pouty face. "Didn't he tell you?"

"Yeah, but I want to hear you tell it."

"Wellllll. We met for lunch the first time. And he was so grown-up, handsome and manly! And yet still sweet and deferential like he was in high school. Still has a temper though."

"Yes, I've seen his temper," I said.

She looked at me intently. "Were you afraid of him when he got mad?"

"Well I was ... very respectfully aware of him, I'll say that for sure."

She grinned. "That day we had lunch the waiter was a bit of a jerk and when I asked him to repeat the specials he kind of rolled his eyes impatiently and Ervin slapped his hand on the table, making all the silverware jump around and the water glasses nearly fell over and everyone in the restaurant went silent, and he didn't even say anything and just glared at this boy. And let me tell you that young man got respectful quick!"

"I can picture that scene, " I said. "So was he hot-tempered back in high school."

She leaned close. "Yeah, but it was just different then. It was more internal in him. Kids would tease him and shit and he'd just boil but it was all inside. He never directed it at other people. I remember he'd get this determined but submissive look like he was just gonna stand there and take whatever abuse they gave him and the anger was there but it just went inside him and stayed there for a long time, probably eating away at him. Nowadays I think he's just so much healthier because he throws it out immediately ."

"So you two are an item after all these years?"

She seemed startled and gave an odd, dismissive laugh. "We're just friends, really. We had lunch and I suppose we'll see each other again, but I'm so busy with Dr. B so I don't really have time for a relationship anyway."

I was probably looking at her with a puzzled expression -- because I was puzzled. She seemed to have shifted gears all at once and backed up over everything else she'd said.

She looked at her watch. "Hey, I need to get back. I've got a bazillion things to get done before I pick up Dr. B after his classes."

I watched her drive off, still puzzled, then rode down to the bridge and crossed over to the Point. The traffic was heavy and I took a few shortcuts through the little clumps of side streets.

The only problem with taking the side streets is you still have to get back on the main road to cross the bridge at the bottom of the peninsula. As I waited in heavy traffic in the left turn lane I noticed a familiar figure walking out of the bank branch on the corner. It was Allison Taylor. She got into a tan Caprice with rental plates and made a right turn up the strip towards her hotel.