Boobytrap

From the notebooks of Donald Michael Latimer

Mon., July 1 — 11:00 P.M.

Bomb signature. Bomb signature!

What’s the matter with me? I know how advanced forensics have become, I should’ve foreseen the danger, yet it never even occurred to me until the kid bragged about it this afternoon. Careless. Stupid. Each of the devices for Cotter and the judge was different, I made sure of that, but I used pretty much the same types of materials for both — same types I used five years ago for Kathryn and Lover Boy. Cops haven’t got a computer match yet, nothing on the radio and there would be if they had an end, but they could come up with one any time and if they do they’ll know right away that Dixon’s my next target, and that I’ll be going after Kathryn, too.

I shouldn’t have been so wedded to the Plan. That’s where I made my mistake, and damn lucky it wasn’t a fatal one. Have to change it now, no choice. Can’t wait any longer, it’s past time for the mountain to go to Mohammed. Do Dixon, then get to Kathryn before she’s warned and goes into hiding somewhere.

Wish I could take Dixon’s Subdivision (c) boobytrap along with me, it really is perfect, but I’d be a fool to transport it armed the way it is and I don’t have time to disassemble and rewire it. I wouldn’t even risk bringing it over here now that it’s been moved. Too much chance of it blowing up in my face. Have to whip up a new bomb, destructive device, boobytrap for Mr. Prosecutor and I know just what kind, just how to fix him. New plan, and it’s a good one. Not quite as fitting but the end result is what matters. And this way the son of a bitch hurts before he dies, too, hurts bad. Might turn out to be even better this way, even sweeter. Fix him good and proper.

Fix that bastard private cop, too. He’s sniffing close, but I’ll be long gone before he gets close enough to do anything except die. Surprise package for him, surprise package for Dixon, then a fast trip to Indiana to give Kathryn her big send-off.

Boom!

      BOOM!

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               O

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