The Mystery Danger Serials: Dead Man Running

The Stakeout

The Stakeout was a bust.

     She wasn't here. She wasn't coming either. Someone tipped her off.

     We had been sitting in the rain, three cars down from Bud's Flower Shop, for a day and a half. An anonymous tip had come in claiming that Bud Thorn's business was a front for one of the major criminal organizations in the city. Plain clothes detectives had been keeping tabs on the florist shop ever since. That had been thirty-four hours ago. They had discovered nothing out of the ordinary.    

     It had been nearly two months since the mess out on Sawtooth Drive. Rose Jones had left that warehouse with a truck full of guns, money, and explosives. Her mission was to clean up the city. She had gotten off to a good start the instant she pulled the trigger that ended the Suit. 

     From that moment, she never looked back. The Dynamite Gal was blazing a trail through the city's  dirty underbelly. All over town, rats that had long been buried in the shadows were turning up burnt to a crisp. The leeches that had sucked good people dry were pulled from their bloody hiding spots and tossed to the flames.

     I watched as the fifth old lady of the day entered the building. She opened the door, shook off her umbrella, and stepped inside. A few minutes later she exited the shop carrying two large bouquets of flowers, one in each hand.  

     "More flowers. Third one to forget her umbrella..." Jim said, writing a new entry in the observation log.

     "This just in..." the radio announcer interrupted the song that was playing. "Another explosion rocks the dock area. This is the second explosion this week, and eleventh in the last two months. Official spokesman for the White Anchor Shipping Company reports that the blast was the result of an accidental..."

     I switched off the radio, turned the key in the ignition, and pulled into the street.

     "The White Anchor Shipping Company? Isn't that the..." Jim began. 

     "Suspected smugglers. Anything from stolen watches to Russian spies. We could never get a warrant." I said. "Bet you a nickel that it was no accident."

     "You think this has been a distraction, to keep us busy while they hit the docks?" Jim wondered aloud.

     "No." I said slamming on the brakes. "No, no-no!" I watched the scene unfold in the rear view mirror. 

     A man had stepped out of the flower shop holding the old lady's umbrella. He shouted, and waved to her.

     She didn't turn to look at the man, who was already raising the umbrella.

     As he slid one hand up the handle, in the distance, the old lady broke into a run...

     The blast was violent. There had been no warning. A pile of charred flesh sat where the man had been standing. The blackened wiry remains of the umbrella stood like an ornate cross, designating the man's final resting place.

     Through the smoke, I caught a glimpse of the old lady sprinting down the street in the opposite direction. As she rounded the corner her gray hair fell to the street, revealing long flowing locks. 

It was her alright. Right here under our noses.