Page 52 of Delusional

I asked, “How do you know it’s a wolf?”

Trilling shrugged. “Too small to be a bear and Fido’s locked up all the time. That pretty much leaves a wolf.”

“Sorry, you have to remember that I’m a born-and-raised New Yorker who’s always lived in Manhattan. Tracking and cataloging animal poop wasn’t ever taught in my local schools.”

Trilling laughed. He knew I was only trying to occupy my mind. He stopped and said, “You’re thinking about the bombings, aren’t you?”

I had to smile at my partner’s growing insight into my habits. I nodded as I admitted, “A few things bug me. Like why’re the bombs becoming more powerful? Who’s smart enough to overcome security systems and make complex bombs? I haven’t heard about anyone like that since Ted Kaczynski.”

“Who?”

“You know, the Unabomber. A brilliant nut who lived in the woods by himself. You must’ve heard of him.”

“Yeah, I think I read about him once in a history book. But he was active a long time ago.”

“You’re not screwing with me, are you?”

“Not this time.”

I did some quick math and realized Rob Trilling was probably telling the truth. He wasn’t even born when the Unabomber was arrested in 1996. I decided not to dwell on how old that made me feel. “Ted Kaczynski was a very smart guy, but he was a recluse and a radical who worried about high tech taking over and a bunch of other stuff. To get attention and to punish those who supported positions he disagreed with, he mailed lethal letter bombs. Very effective domestic terrorism. His bombs killed several people.”

“Wasn’t there something about a manifesto?”

“Yes. The New York Times and the Washington Post both published Kaczynski’s manifesto.”

Trilling asked, “How was he caught?”

“His brother figured it out from reading the manifesto. He went to the FBI with what he knew.” I could see Trilling had more questions. I told him, “Kaczynski was convicted and died in prison.”

Trilling said, “I bet we could get Walter Jackson to compare some profiles similar to our bomber. We should come up with a good name too. Something catchy like the Unabomber. The Lone Bomber?”

“We don’t know if the bomber is working alone or not,” I pointed out.

“Even if other people are involved, I bet only one guy is making the bombs. And that guy is smart.” Trilling’s face lit up. “So we call him Smart Bomb.”

I groaned. “You’ve been spending too much time with Walter Jackson.”

“The Manhattan Project?”

“Taken.”

“The Steak Bomb?”

“How’d you come up with that one?”

Trilling shrugged. “Just hungry, I guess. I’ll keep working on it.”

“You do that.”

CHAPTER 64

ROB TRILLING AND I had just arrived at Mona’s house next door for dinner. I didn’t know what we were having, but based on her previous meals, my hopes were high. It smelled fantastic. Almost as good as something Ricky would make.

Before I had ditched my winter jacket or was even completely inside, however, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Walter Jackson. As challenging as it was, I excused myself and went outside for privacy.

As soon as I had stepped back outside, I realized my mistake. I should’ve simply excused myself to another room in the house. I huddled in the little covered porch area right outside the front door. The alcove mostly blocked the freezing wind that was ripping down from the hills.

Walter sounded like his usual cheerful self. The first thing he said was “I waited until I got home to call you. I know you’re always hesitant to use NYPD time or resources for personal issues. I still think this is a criminal case, whether it’s here in New York or out there in whatever the hell state you’re in.”