Rock & Roll Homicide by R J McDonnell Page A

it. I’m going to talk with Molly about it while you two go back to your shoptalk. OK?”
    Dad said, “Sure, you do that.” Then he turned to me, and in a quiet voice said, “Does she drag you off to see those things?”
    “Not yet,” I replied.
    Over the next couple of innings Dad shared stories about cases he worked that had some similarities. When we got into the top of the ninth inning he said, “I’ve got a confession to make. I made a lot of my cases working closely with Forensics. O’Hara said he’d check with them about your case and meet me at Casey’s Bar. When I got there he was sitting with Dennis Fallon, the Forensics Department night supervisor. As he was giving us the grisly details, O’Malley and McCoy joined us. When he was done, O’Malley, who has a bunch of relatives in Belfast, said the IRA has been using blasting cap bombs for the past 50 years.”
    “Dad, I appreciate your help, but, unless the IRA and the Russian Mafia worked out a merger that nobody knows about, I don’t see how that’s gonna help,” I said.
    He responded, “Since I retired I’ve been helping your mother with her jigsaw puzzles. It seems like with every puzzle I work on I come across a couple of pieces that look like they don’t belong. Do you think I should throw those pieces out?”
    “I see where you’re going, Dad. But I also know that you and your buddies think the world revolves around the Emerald Isle. Thanks for helping out,” I said as the announcer gave us the final score, Giants 3, Padres 1.
    When we got to the parking lot and were about to part company, Dad gave me a curious look that I had never seen before. He then gave Kelly a little hug (another first) and said, “You’re welcome to come over for a visit anytime.”
    As we walked toward my car Kelly said, “Your mom is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. You’re a lucky guy.”
    I replied, “You’re not kidding.” Holding my thumb and forefinger an inch apart I added, “I came this close to a month of Fried Green Tomatoes and The Bridges of Madison County .”
    “You got that right,” she replied.
    When we found the Acura, I noticed that the black rubber weather strip alongside the driver’s side window was pushed in toward the bottom. It looked like somebody tried using a coat hanger to pop the door lock. “Kelly, would you do me a favor and run over to the vendor by the entrance and pick up a miniature Padres bat for my nephew?” I asked as I handed her a $20 bill.
    “Sure,” she replied as she snatched the bill out of my hand. Without asking questions she walked toward the entrance. I don’t know much about car bombs except that they’re usually located either under the driver’s seat, the dashboard, or the hood. As she walked away I carefully ran my hand under the passenger seat and found nothing. I walked around to my side and repeated the procedure until my fingers touched a hard, plastic object. I withdrew my hand as carefully as possible and reached into the console for my flashlight. With both of my knees on the parking lot pavement, I turned on the flashlight and placed it on the floor so that it would illuminate the space under my seat. As I leaned forward to rest my head on the floor, a bead of sweat ran down the side of my face. When my eyes adjusted to the light I let out a loud sigh as I recognized the object to be my nephew’s Darth Vader action figure. While I was down there, I looked under the dash and noticed nothing unusual.
    After getting to my feet, and brushing off my knees, I popped the hood and began my final inspection. I noticed a red wire running under the air filter and bent down lower to have a closer look. When I reached the lowest point in my bend, I was sure I had detonated a bomb. My body flinched in one huge spasm and I banged my head hard on the hood as I bolted upright. In a dazed state I heard Kelly say, “I’m so sorry, Jason. I had no idea you’d react like that.”
    When my eyes