CHAPTER 2

"Mornin', Chris." Houston stepped off the elevator at the penthouse suite offices of Houston Investigations and stopped. "You okay?"

"Yeah…" The secretary didn't look it.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"C'mon…" He ushered her up the steps to the inner office as she began sniffling, trying to hold back tears. "Have a seat here." He went behind the bar and made a cup of peppermint tea for her, what CJ usually drank these days instead of coffee, and then hit the coffee pot for himself. Sitting down next to her and handing over the cup he got a good look at her; although she had tried to cover it he could see that she had been crying. "So what's going on?" She shook her head. "You know I'll find out anyway." The last was said with a hint of humor in it and she looked up at the face of the man that she had worked for since her first week in Los Angeles. "What'd he do?"

She shook her head and gave a small smile. "It isn't all him." The "him" they were talking about was Chris' husband, Murray Chase, Matt's former accountant and now CEO of Houston Industries.

"She's awake this morning." The PI smiled as he reached over and gently placed his hand on her belly where the baby girl that she and Murray were expecting was kicking. "You know…that's something I never get tired of…kinda makes you feel a little better about life in general."

"I'm glad you don't get tired of it." She gave a laugh and rubbed her belly.

"So what happened?"

"We had a fight." Taking a sip of the tea she shook her head. "It was stupid of course – they always are." He waited. "He wants me to take off on maternity leave and I want to stay on a little longer."

"Hon, you can go on and take off; it'll be fine."

"Who's going to stay here and handle the phones?"

"I can forward them to the ranch."

"CJ doesn't need that – good Lord – she's expecting twins. I've only got the one."

"She's been getting bored." He took a sip. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it can get when that girl gets bored?" They both laughed.

"She's been around you too long."

Nodding he smiled. "But you know what? It'll never be long enough…no matter how many years we have together." He got a shocked expression on his face as the secretary burst into tears. "Easy now…"

"That just makes me feel so bad about fussing with Murray."

Matt took the tea from her and set it on the table, wrapping an arm around her. "Easy…tell me something: if you weren't tired from hauling this little lady around would you be upset like this?"

"I…I don't guess so…"

"So maybe he's right. Have you got your nursery all set up?"

"Not quite."

"So go ahead and take off. Work on the nursery, take your time and enjoy it."

"But I can't just…"

"Stop crying and hear me out, alright?" He handed her a tissue and after she honked her nose, handed the tea back. "Now…think about it. I'm not here near as much as I used to be – am I?"

"No."

"I haven't been taking outside cases either – I've been too busy with my classes, and Michael, and the fire deal…"

"And everybody else. How in the world do you do it?"

"It just happens. Now – I can forward the phone calls. Security is already screening people before they can make a trip up here these days. They can wave 'em off down in the lobby."

"I guess so…"

"You know what?" He leaned back and took a sip. "You could spend part of the time out at the ranch if you wanted – maybe you can keep CJ out of trouble."

"And she can keep me out of trouble – is that what you're thinking?" She started laughing.

"If the shoe fits…" He gave her a smile and she wrapped her arms around his neck giving him a hug as the elevator chimed and Murray walked up the steps.

"What in the hell are you doing, Houston?!" The CEO stalked down the stairs toward the pair.

"Huh?"

"Murray, I just gave him a hug for heaven's sake!"

"So you get mad at me and then I come up here to apologize and find you two in each other's arms?!"

"Murray, come on, bud…" Matt put the coffee cup down and stood up looking at the man as a fist caught him in the jaw.

"Murray!" Chris tried to get to her feet.

"Calm down. Have a seat." The PI hadn't even flinched when the punch hit and it seemed to have more of an effect on the sender.

"Houston…I'm so sorry…I can't believe…I'm sorry." The bald-headed man sank onto the couch.

"Hush. Chris, tell him our plan." The PI went to the bar and came back with a cup of coffee for the CEO as his wife explained what they had been talking about.

"I'm sorry." Murray took the cup.

"Would you hush already? So what do you think?"

"I think it's a good idea." He took his wife's hand. "Oh God, I've made a fool out of myself." Taking off his glasses he turned to Matt. "Go ahead."

"Huh?"

"You owe me a punch."

"Murray…" He burst into laughter. "I'm not gonna hit ya."

"You have every right."

"Thanks for the laugh. I don't think I've made a husband jealous in quite a while." He burst into laughter and eventually so did Murray. "Okay, now. Chris, if you want to go, go ahead."

"Well, I'm already here so I'll just stay today."

"Fine by me." Houston downed the last of the coffee and went back to the pot for a refill. Glancing back up he caught sight of the pair kissing, rolled his eyes and grabbed his laptop, going out on the patio overlooking the Los Angeles skyline and checked his mail, finding the files that Mitchell had promised to send him. According to the ATF lab, the first package bomb in St. Louis was made from a concentrate of benzoyl peroxide and the apparent trigger had been a wrist watch with an alarm set. A wire had been run from the watch to the container and the electrical charge had caused the explosion. An attached note from Mitchell said that he had talked to the lab tech who was reasonably sure that the El Paso bomb had been the same setup. Neither the sender nor recipient information on the packages was recovered.

The next file he opened contained information on one of their suspects: Andrew Pace Lane, age 27, male Caucasian, 5'8", and 180 pounds. He was a high school dropout who had applied for a job with XPRS and been denied because he didn't have the educational requirements. His response had been to trash the reception area of the local office, the result of which had been his arrest. After his parents posted his bond he returned to the scene that night and defaced the building with spray paint. The officer who took the report had included, "Mr. Pace had incorrectly applied the paint as XRPS." That got a snicker out of the cowboy who now agreed with Mitchell: he didn't think Pace was smart enough.

After another swallow of coffee he opened the next file. Arlo Zebidiah Wilkinson, age 58, male Caucasian, 5'11", and 276 pounds. Mr. Wilkinson had filed several complaints against the company, several of the drivers, and pretty much anyone else involved with what he had described as a "poultry conspiracy". Although he had tried to file several lawsuits he hadn't been able to get legal representation – so far at least. He claimed that XPRS was directly responsible for the deaths of 117 chicks that he had ordered. Although he had been questioned by ATF, the agent didn't think that Mr. Wilkinson was capable of understanding how to find directions to make a bomb, much less being able to construct one without blowing himself up.

Mitchell had added a note:

Now you see why I didn't seem too hopeful about the situation.

Closing the laptop the PI walked to the edge of the patio and leaned on the wall, looking around him at the buildings and traffic. Lane and Wilkinson didn't stand out as suspects to him. There were bound to be disgruntled employees. Hardly any company didn't have at least one or two, and they were often behind such stunts. Finishing off the cup of coffee he went back to the laptop and began looking into XPRS. Founded in 1988 by two brothers, Alan and Edwin Faltzer who had worked through high school and college as bicycle messengers in Boston, it had become a success within ten years and had expanded across the country. By 2000 they were in sixteen countries around the world and had never been hit with a union strike. Their policy of keeping workers happy seemed to be paying off for them. They were doing well on the stock exchange and had managed to ride out some of the latest economic downturns with hardly a hiccup.

A little more digging led him to find five lawsuits that had been filed against them since 1988, only one of which had been successful. Two were filed by former employees, and he delved into them. The first was filed by a man who claimed that the random drug tests that employees were required to take were a violation of privacy laws, but the suit was dropped when he was arrested by the DEA for trying to move drugs using his employer as a courier. Sighing at the stupidity of people, the PI shook his head and went to the second case filed by a female employee who had complained that she had been fired from the job because of her hair – specifically the length. XPRS had changed the requirements for hair length after her hair had become entangled in a conveyor system that resulted in one of their service lines being shut down for two hours when a rescue squad had to be called in to extricate her four foot long pony tail. "Good Lord…"

The next three lawsuits were over either lost or damaged deliveries. Even though reparations had been made before the suits were filed the plaintiffs had continued with the cases and all but one had lost. For such a big company, Matt was impressed that they didn't have more legal problems. He closed up the computer and went inside, washing out the cup before he told Chris that he was leaving for the ATF office on North Brand in Glendale.

The fifteen minute drive was uneventful and he thought about the trip to Houston and the reaction of CJ to being the new owner of the old Parsons ranch. Chuckling he thought back to the night before when he had shown her pictures of how it looked now after the tornado that had blown through the area while he had been there. The shocked expression on her face gave way to eventual laughter. Then she had thanked him…repeatedly, the thought of which made him smile even more.

At the reception desk, he was surprised to find that Mitchell had already left word for him to be issued a visitor's pass and directions to his office on the eighth floor. "Knock, knock." He tapped on the door facing receiving a smile from the agent.

"Come on in, man. Have a seat." Gunterson rolled back in his chair. "So have you had a chance to think about it?"

"Yep. Looked through the files you sent...had a good chuckle." Both men cracked up. "Kinda liked the poultry conspiracy deal, I gotta say. But I agree with you – I think both of those guys would have trouble finding their butts with both hands let alone making a bomb without blowing themselves up."

"And?"

"And I looked into XPRS – they seem to be pretty good folks to work for; most of the employees seem to be happy from what I can find. They're doing good on the stock market." He shrugged. "Have any of the other carriers had similar problems?"

"No." Watching as the PI chewed on the information he put his hands behind his head and leaned back.

"You said the St. Louis and El Paso bombs were pretty much identical in makeup and result."

"They were."

"The one yesterday was bigger."

"Uh huh."

"An escalation maybe? Our bomber started out small, just experimenting. Now he's moving up in scale a little bit."

"That's what I think...and it's got me worried. What will he do next?"

"I realize that there's some security at the delivery companies but let's face it – they can't check every single package that comes through there."

"It's a high volume business. XPRS has come a long way in a relatively short time. One other company does a higher volume than they do, but it isn't really a significant difference. They're closing in fast. Do you think it could be some of the competition?"

"I really don't think they would want to give any of the nut jobs out there more ideas than they already have...it could backfire on them."

"Hadn't thought of that one." The agent looked at the ceiling.

"The package yesterday..." The PI got up and began moving around the office. "...was it being loaded or unloaded?"

"It had just been unloaded...damn."

"If that had happened in flight..."

"Big time disaster."

"Uh huh."

"Could the lab tell what percentage the concentration of benzoyl peroxide was?"

"No...but in its pure state it wouldn't take much for an explosion."

"It can detonate without a trigger."

"Yep."

Houston began pacing, stopping after a minute. "Whoever this is..." He tapped on the corner of the desk. "...is good. They're very good. If they weren't it would most likely have blown up sooner. Have you checked with any of the producers that make products that contain it? I mean there's more than just the zit creams – there's hair dye, teeth whitening, work with resins...hell, they even use it in manufacturing flour."

"Flour? That one I didn't know about. Okay, that gives us a place to look for missing supplies. Good. I'll get started on that."

"I'll see you later."

"Where are you going?"

"To see my favorite lab tech – maybe she can give me some other ideas."