A Blast From the Past
Chapter 5
Della sat across from Paul at her kitchen table, watching him wolf down his second sandwich, a big handful of chips and a beer. She always marveled at how much Paul could eat at any given time. The sandwich she had made for herself sat untouched on the plate. Worry over the vandalism, the note and mostly Perry, had left her with no appetite and the beginnings of what was sure to be a pounding headache.
Paul, noticing Della's unusual lack of appetite, put his sandwich down and reached across to take her hand. "Hey Del. What's wrong?"
Della looked at him like he had just dropped in from the moon. "Really Paul. With everything that's going on, you have to ask me 'what's wrong'?"
"Hey Della. You know Perry and Tragg are doing everything possible to solve this. And Perry won't stop until he figures this out."
Della stood and walked into the living room, keeping her back to him. "That's just it Paul. You know how he gets when he can't figure something out. He's like a bulldog. He will go to any length, take all kinds of reckless chances; he won't stop."
Paul took the last swig of his beer then walked in to place his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. "Della, we both know him, you probably better than me." He couldn't help but see the blush that crept up her cheeks. Again, he wondered what had gone on between his two best friends.
"Oh Paul." At her sudden tears, he had no idea what to do except put his arms around her and let her cry.
"C'mon Beautiful. It's okay. Everything's gonna be fine." Paul led her to the couch, still holding her close. Finally the tears stopped, and he handed her his handkerchief.
"I'm sorry Paul. I don't know what's wrong with me."
Paul sat back, trying to decide how far he could push her. Finally he decided to just leap in with both feet. "Della, did something happen here last night? Or this morning? Because if Perry said anything to...we'll, I'll..."
When his questions brought on a fresh bout of tears, he knew he'd struck a nerve. He wasn't sure if he should be angry or...
"Per..ry kis..sed me." Her voice came out in a strangled whisper. Paul couldn't believe he had heard her right.
"He did WHAT?" He hadn't meant to shout.
Della shook her head. "Please Paul."
Paul stood and crossed to the room to look out of the balcony windows. He surely hadn't expected this. It was obvious that Della wasn't pleased. He felt like he wanted to punch Perry for upsetting Della. But maybe he'd better get the whole story. He returned to sit next to Della, seeing that her tears had finally stopped. She was nervously twisting the handkerchief in her hands.
Trying to be as sensitive as he could, he put his hand over hers. "Del, honey. Why don't you tell me what happened. Then we can figure this out, okay?"
Slowly, with an occasional teary pause, Della told Paul the story of waking, seeing Perry asleep, thinking he was having a nightmare, ending with their kiss.
Paul listened without comment until she had finished. "So do you want me to slug the big dope?"
Della finally smiled. "No Paul. It's just that..."
"Just what?"
"It's just that I've been in love with him for so long. And he seemed so ashamed. I don't know what to do."
Paul had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. What Della couldn't see is that Perry was probably experiencing the very same feelings. That's why his friend had been so distracted. So that he could regain his composure, he stood and walked back to the balcony.
The blast threw Paul across the room and knocked Della to the floor. The last thing she remembered was trying to crawl to where Paul lay. She didn't make it.
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Perry was going through the back files labeled K when his phone rang. He hurried to answer it, signaling the maintenance men installing the new balcony doors for quiet.
"Mason."
"Tragg. I'm on my way to get you."
Perry's heart clenched in his chest. "Della!"
Tragg's voice sounded tired, as if he had aged ten years. "Just get downstairs. I'll meet you."
Perry ran out the door of his private entrance, and deciding not to chance the elevator, dashed down the stairs as fast as he dared. As he exited through the garage door, Tragg's car was screeching to a stop. Perry yanked open the back door and threw himself in. Before the door had closed, Sergeant Brice was peeling away from the curb, lights and siren helping to clear a path through the heavy downtown traffic.
Perry was trying to catch his breath when Tragg turned in his seat. "We don't know much yet; the surveillance team reported an explosion on the balcony of Della's apartment. Thankfully there was no fire but the team called for fire and ambulances. I told the team not to enter until..."
Perry exploded. "Why?! Della could be badly injured or...". His mind wouldn't let him form the last word. "Radio and tell them to get in there. NOW!"
Tragg fired back. "You aren't giving the orders now, Mason. I'm not sending my men into a possible deadly situation. I want to make sure there are no more explosions."
"Tragg..."
At seeing the stricken look on the lawyers face, Tragg softened his tone a little. "We're almost there. Let me do my job, please."
Perry buried his face in his hands, unable to get rid of the image of what might be happening inside that apartment. Della and Paul. He should never have sent them away.
He raised his head when the car came to an abrupt stop. Fire trucks and an ambulance, as well as several police vehicles were parked at angles in the street. He and Tragg both jumped from the car and hurried into the building. A police officer waved them through and they entered the elevator. As they exited on the 3rd floor, the hallway was crowded with waiting fire and medical personnel and their equipment. When they made their way through to Della's door, both men stopped in their tracks.
On the door, in the same block letters and red paint:
Strike Two
