Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 122, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 745 & 746, September/October 2003

Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 122, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 745 & 746, September/October 2003

One Shot Difference by Brendan DuBois

An EQMM Department of First Stories author, New Hampshire-man Brendan DuBois has become a prolific writer of series mysteries, stand-alone thrillers, and short stories. He has two new books out this year, a collection of stories from Five Star (Tales from the Dark Woods) and a thriller about MIAs in Vietnam. The latter, Betrayed, appeared first in England (Time Warner U.K.; followed in the U.S. by Thomas Dunne Books).

* * *

The training session that day took place in an area of the decommissioned Air Force base that had once stored nuclear weapons for the B-52s and FB-111s stationed there. The Air Force bombers were long gone and it was mostly civilian aircraft that were now using the mile-long runway. Other parts of the base had been cut up and subdivided for high-tech firms, a passport-processing office for U.S. customs, and a regional bus system. Since no one had come up with a commercial use for the two dozen concrete bunkers half-buried in the soil, they had been abandoned when the base had closed years earlier. Each bunker was long and curved, covered with soil and grass, with a ventilation shaft poking out from the center. They looked quiet and peaceful, not at all like a place that had once stored weapons capable of incinerating a city and killing millions in a matter of seconds.

Craig Francis leaned against the hood of a Porter police department cruiser, watching the SWAT team members from a half-dozen local towns get suited up and ready for the day’s session. His arms were folded and he was enjoying the early-morning sun. He was also enjoying seeing the cops goof around, eating donuts and drinking coffee and tossing footballs back and forth. Most of them were much younger than he was, quite muscular and strong, and they had the cocky attitude that came with being healthy, young, and on top of their game. He, on the other hand, was on the wrong side of forty years old, had never walked more than a mile at a time in his life, and had long ago ceased being cocky. Except for a young woman who worked as a dispatcher, talking to a couple of the cops, he was the only civilian among the early-morning crowd. His real job was owner and manager of the Francis Farms convenience store in Porter, a popular place for the Porter cops. No cop ever paid for a cup of coffee or snack at his store, and in return, they kept an eye on the place and responded quickly whenever he needed them, for something as small as a teenage shoplifter or somebody who passed a bad check, or something as bad as a holdup.

It was a good arrangement, a comfortable arrangement, and sometimes it came with a few perks, like today. The cops from Porter and other towns that belonged to the regional SWAT response team were conducting a training session, and they needed a couple of volunteers to serve as criminals, to make the training more realistic. Craig had done it a few times before and found it fun; though he usually ended the day with bumps, bruises, and once, a bloody nose, it had always been worth it.

But today... well, today was going to be different. He looked around at the cops as they put on their protective vests, their Kevlar helmets, their kneepads and gloves, and saw one Porter cop tossing a football to another. Even among the other cops, he stood out. Dirk Conrad. Twenty-seven years old, black hair shorn quite short. Even with the protective gear and body armor, it was easy to tell from the swell of his upper arms and chest that he spent a lot of his time working out.

Dirk spotted Craig looking at him, grinned, and gave him a big wave. Craig waved back with a smile. Craig knew a lot about Dirk: where he had grown up, where he had gone to school, and how he was doing with the department. Dirk was a crack shot, tough on the streets, was on a fast track for promotion, and made it clear that he intended to get out of the department one of these days and try for the FBI or CIA. He had big plans to go with those big muscles, and Craig knew that, and more.

He shifted his weight on the cruiser and lifted his head up to the sun. For Craig also knew that young Dirk Conrad was having an affair with Craig’s wife Stacy, and for that, Craig planned on ending Dirk’s life today, in the midst of all his fellow cops.

The thought and the bright sunshine on his face made him smile.