Attempted Murder!

The prompt was to take a memoir you have written and turn it into a story (i.e. leave you out, become the narrator).  Think “narrative non-fiction”, which allows you to use more flowing words and embellishments to tell a true story.

This happened to me in 1998, and is rewritten here to satisfy the prompt.

The call-display heralded the expected call from Tony’s garage, and Jamie held his breath when he answered, hoping the repair bill wasn’t out of sight.

“Jamie!  You gotta get over here!  Somebody’s planted a friggin’ bomb in your car!”  Tony’s voice was high-pitched, almost breathless.

“Yeah, right!” Jamie laughed.  “What’s the bill?”

“No, really!  My guys found a bomb in your car!  I already called the cops!  You gotta get over here!”  Jamie knew from experience that nothing much fazed Tony, but he was really wound-up.

Moments later, Jamie and Dawn, driving her car, were racing up the highway from their home on the lake, headed to the garage.  “What else did he say?” Dawn asked.  “This sounds crazy!  Who would put a bomb in your car?”

“It is crazy,” Jamie agreed.  “There has to be some mistake.”

But there wasn’t.  Two cruisers were already at the garage off the highway, their blue lights strobing the lush, midsummer forest surrounding the property.  Two officers were standing with Tony on the grease-stained tarmac in front of the building, while the other mechanics huddled close by, leaning in to hear whatever was being said.

As Jamie and Dawn walked toward the group, they saw his car atop a lift in one of the service-bays inside.  Its gas-tank cover was popped open, all four doors were ajar, plus the rear hatch, and the front hood was raised.  Tony pointed Jamie out to the cops as he approached.

“That your car?” one of the officers said, stepping forward, aiming a finger at the station wagon.

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Jamie replied, glancing quizzically at Tony.

“I’m PC Shirley Connor,” the cop said.  “There appears to be some sort of booby-trap wired inside your car.  We got the bomb-squad on the way.”

Jamie looked at Dawn, then said, “That’s crazy!  My wife and I dropped the car off here this morning.  I didn’t notice anything wrong.  It’s just a routine service-check.”

“Car wasn’t runnin’ a little rough?” Connor asked.

Jamie considered her question.  “Maybe a bit sluggish, now that I think about it, but not enough that I mentioned it to Tony when I dropped it off.”

“I want you to walk over to where PC Harris is standing,” Connor said.  “You’ll see what we’re talkin’ about, but don’t try to get any closer.”

Dawn followed Jamie to the far side of the wide-open garage door to get a better look at the car.  “See that right there,” Harris said, pointing to the left rear wheel.  “See that thin wire?  It’s comin’ from the engine, underneath the chassis, an’ it goes up behind the wheel to the gas-cap space.”

Jamie’s eyes followed the cop’s directions, and when he looked where the gas-cap should be, he saw the wire had been inserted into the filling-tube.  It was secured in place with what looked like electrician’s tape, only white. 

“What is that?” he breathed, scarcely believing his eyes.

“We think it’s a bomb,” Harris said.  “Nobody’s goin’ near it ‘til the bomb-guys get here, but me an’ Connor think the end of the wire could be attached to a spark plug dropped into the gas tank.  The other end’s prob’ly attached to the distributor cap.”

“What does that mean?” Dawn asked, wide-eyed.

“Means the car coulda gone up like a firebomb when you turned the key to start the engine,” Harris said, not mincing words.  “You wouldn’t have had a chance!”

Jamie stared at the cop for a long moment.  “I started it up at home this morning, drove over here.  Nothing happened.”

Connor had joined them by now.  “If it’s what me an’ Harris think it is, you’re lucky!  How much gas you got in the tank?”

“I filled it up last night on the way home from my office in town.”

Connor and Harris locked eyes, nodded briefly.  “See, how these things work,” Connor explained, “is when the fuel gets below a certain point in the tank, if there’s a spark plug in there, it’ll ignite the gas-vapours when you crank the ignition.  But if you got a full tank, the plug is immersed in the gasoline itself, so it can’t spark.  Later on, though, when the fuel-level gets down again, an’ the plug dries…”  She finished by miming an explosion with her hands.

“So, if my husband hadn’t filled up with gas last night, you’re telling us he could be dead by now?” Dawn said.

Both officers nodded again.  “An’ if Tony’s guy hadn’t found the wire under the car today an’ traced it to the gas-tank, you’d be like a dead man walkin’,” Harris said.  “Or woman…whoever mighta started the engine later on after the fuel level dropped.”

Dawn put her arm around Jamie’s waist, both of them speechless.

A large, black vehicle pulled into the lot just then.  The driver and another officer climbed down from the cab, conferred for a moment, then strode over to Connor and Harris.  Two other men clad in body-armour clambered out the rear-door, adjusting their gear, then pulled out a few pieces of robotic equipment.

After the cops introduced themselves to each other, Connor said, “This here’s Jamie an’ Dawn Brodie, owners of the vehicle inside.  Mr. Brodie drove it over here this mornin’, says he didn’t notice anythin’ wrong.”

“Got it,” the older of the two officers said, acknowledging both Jamie and Dawn. “We got the K-9 guys on the way, so we’re just gonna wait on them.  Meanwhile, my guys’re gonna take some pictures of the vehicle.  If the dogs give us the all-clear, we’ll go over it with a fine-tooth comb.”

“Okay, Mr. Brodie, while we’re waitin’, how’s about I get some information from you?” Connor said.  “Mrs. Brodie, PC Harris will do the same with you.”  She lead Jamie to her cruiser, and once they were seated, she said, “Is everythin’ good between you an’ your wife?  You havin’ any problems?”

Jamie stared at her, perplexed, but didn’t answer.

“When somethin’ like this happens,” Connor continued, “we always gotta check on how things are between spouses.  You’d be surprised what we learn ‘bout people’s marriages.”

“Well, ours is good!” Jamie assured her.  “Neither one of us has any idea what this is about!”

“Okay, I hear you.  What about neighbours at the lake?  Any problems there?”

“None,” Jamie said.  “Our place is on a small bay with two other residences, both seasonal.  We’re the only full-timers.”

“Tony told me you’re the head of the local school board, right?”

“I’m the superintendent,” Jamie said, “the CEO of the board, not an elected trustee.”

“Meanin’ you’re the head honcho, right?”  When Jamie nodded, Connor said, “Can you think of anybody in your employ who might wanta do you harm?”

Jamie pressed his head back against the headrest, furrowing his brow.  “Well, I’m sure I’m not universally loved,” he said, smiling wryly.  “There are always situations that require me to make decisions or take actions that don’t please everyone.  We have disciplinary issues from time to time, or grievances from the unions.  But no one has ever threatened to harm me…not to my knowledge.  I think I’m pretty well-regarded, all things considered.”

“You had any partic’lar issues this past year with anybody?”

“Issues?”

“Yeah, like did you hafta suspend anybody for somethin’, or dock their pay, or maybe fire ‘em for somethin’?”

“We’ve had a few issues like that over the years,” Jamie said.  “I suspended a couple of people this past school year, as a matter of fact, and fired one teacher last Christmas, but I can’t really discuss those matters.”

“Not askin’ you to discuss ‘em,” Connor said.  “Just askin’ if you think any of the people involved coulda done somethin’ like this to your car.  Maybe wantin’ to get back at you.”

Before Jamie could answer, a police minivan pulled into the lot, parked beside the bomb-truck.  Two men stepped out, opened the van’s side-doors to allow two dogs out.  “There’s the K-9 guys,” Connor said.  “Wait here a minute ‘til I fill ‘em in.”

As all eight officers gathered on the tarmac to confer, Jamie waved at Dawn in the other cruiser.  She simply shrugged her shoulders in bewilderment.  Tony and his crew were still seated at the picnic bench they used for breaks, watching all the action.

A few minutes later, Connor climbed back into her car.  “Okay, the dogs are gonna do some sniffin’ around the vehicle, see if there’s any weapons or live ammunition inside.  You have any firearms in it?”

“No, Jamie said.  “I have two long-guns at the house, but they’re locked in a cupboard.  I have a few boxes of ammunition there, too.”

“Okay, we’re gonna head to the house after we’re done here.  Tony told us you live on the lake, right?    If you got ATVs, snowmachines, boats, the dogs will check ‘em all after goin’ through the house.  You got a garage?”

“We do, yeah.  That’s where the two snowmachines are stored for the summer.  The boat is moored at the dock.”

“Okay, the dogs will get at all of ‘em.”

“So, you think somebody might have planted a bomb on our property?” Jamie said.

“We’re gonna find out,” Connor declared.  “Looks like somebody planted one in your car, so maybe there’s more!  Now, before the dogs got here, you were gonna tell me if any of the employees you suspended or fired mighta had a grudge against you.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Jamie said, “Jeez, I don’t know.  The teacher I fired was pretty upset, but he didn’t make any overt threats.”

“I know you can’t go into details an’ names, an’ so on, but broad-strokes, why’d you fire him?”

“We discovered he’d been having sexual relations for several months with a troubled student at one of our high schools, a seventeen-year-old female.  Both of them admitted it when I spoke to them separately, but they claimed it had been consensual.  The young woman had a number of problems at home, as well, so she was especially vulnerable.  In my view, she wasn’t able to properly consent, and we had to refer her to child protection to ensure she wouldn’t suffer a complete breakdown.”

“I think I know that case,” Connor said.  “Back in the fall, right?  I remember we arrested the guy an’ he went to trial last spring.  Named Archer, maybe?  Or no, Archembault, I think.”

Jamie nodded.  “Jack Archembault, right.  He got off, though, because the judge didn’t view the victim as a credible witness.  The guy was a predator, but the judge didn’t see it that way.  Anyway, his verdict—a bad one, in my judgement—didn’t affect my decision to fire the teacher.  He had definitely sexually abused that young woman.”

“So, you said he was he upset at you for firin’ him after the court cut him loose?”

“Right, but I figured that was to be expected.  As far as I know, he left town after his dismissal, and I haven’t seen him since.”

“Refresh my memory,” Connor said.  “What subject was the guy teachin’ when you fired him?”

Jamie turned to face her as the import of the question dawned on him.  “Holy cryin’ out loud!  He was teaching auto-mechanics!  He worked in the school’s auto-shop!  And before his misconduct came to light, his principal had wanted him for head of the tech department.”

Connor snapped her notebook shut.  “Okay, we’re gonna find this guy, wherever he is, an’ take a good, hard look at him.  If it turns out the way I think it could, the only thing he’ll be wanted for is attempted murder!”

_{© J. Bradley Burt 2023}