The building rocked, windows shattered and people panicked. An explosion. Mass panic was not unusual with the many terror attacks in 2018. But, first, let's step back to explain how the evening began.
It was boy’s night out, something I did with my college buddies once a month. We’d grab a few beers, and throw darts or play pool at the local sports bar, nothing dangerous or even adventurous ever happened. Our group had gotten smaller with people taking jobs in other cities and growing families. That night there were four of us, Benny, Tomàss (Thomas really but he thought Tomàss sounded upper class), Carl and me, Steve. That night I told Tomàss to call me Stefan just to give him a hard time.
Boy’s night was a lame attempt to hold onto our youth. It was always at Juan Carlos O’Kelly’s, the Mexican restaurant with an Irish themed sports bar. They were well-known for the Irish tacos with cabbage and shredded corned beef. It doesn’t sound like a great combination but it was great with a Guinness or Corona.
We were playing darts when Sally, our waitress, brought the food. The game didn’t stop when the food arrived. She set the plates on a table next to our beers. We ate, drank and threw darts, taunting each other like high school kids.
“Benny, you throw like a girl.” Carl laughed.
“Like … Wonder Woman.” Benny twirled the dart like a baton.
“Stop performing and throw the dart, Jackass.” Tomàss washed down the last bite of taco with his Guinness.
“It’s Sir Jackass … Tomàss.” Benny threw his second dart and missed the board.
“You’d make Wonder Woman weep.” Carl picked up his beer.
Halfway through our match and munchies Tomàss stumble walked to the head, bumping into tables and knocking a women’s drink over. Not cool, a low-classmove forTomàss.Benny and Carl went out back for a smoke. I sat by myself when the night turned into an unexpected adventure.
It was hard to tell where the blast occurred. There was damage to the building but not like you would expect if a bomb were inside. Tomàss rushed out of the men’s room yelling my name. Seems funny how a traumatic event can sober you up instantly. Funny’s not the right word, but it works.
“Steve, where are you? It’s Tom.” He screamed.
“Over here, by the bar.” The pretentious use of Tomàss was gone.
“Are you alright?” He kicked a chair out of the aisle.
“Yes.” I pushed a ceiling tile off the table. “Benny and Carl went out back for a smoke.”
“We need to check on them.”
“You’re right. Let’s go.”
We carefully made our way toward the back door. It wasn’t far but the clutter from overturned tables and the panicked people slowed us down. It was a blessing for us since a second explosion coming from the back parking lot blew the back door off its hinges. Debris was scattered everywhere. This was anything but a blessing for Benny and Carl.
Sirens blared. Help was on the way. The smoke-filled bar made it hard to see and breathe. We didn't know if the building was on fire, but we knew we had to find a way out. Was there another bomb? I hoped not, but I didn’t know.
I looked at Tom. “We need to get out of here, now.”
We helped each other to our feet and made it the rest of the way to the back door, not knowing what to expect. People blocked the doorway, pushing and shoving each other to escape. Everyone was in survival mode. Tom and I headed for a window that was blown out. I grabbed a chair leg and used it to knock out the shards of glass still left in the window frame. Once we climbed through to safety, others followed. Safety might be a poor choice of words. Safe is relative to the situation.
Once outside, we saw the destruction, likea war zone. Vehicle parts were strewn around the parking lot like a junkyard. But, the biggest surprise was the money floating through the air like confetti. People who escaped the restaurant changed from survival mode to scavenger mode, running wildly to snatch as much of the free money as possible.
Tom looked around, then shook his head. “Let’s go around back to check on Benny and Carl.”
I could see the damaged armored bank truck overturned and had a gaping hole in the side. People were climbing over the injured to reach the truck and the money inside. Fights were breaking out.
Weaving our way through the crowd we made it to the back lot just as the police arrived. They came to help the injured but now were faced with looters as well.
It was mass hysteria-bloodied bodies, looters pushing and shoving and the police trying to maintain control. We searched the parking lot as best we could, but found no sign of Benny or Carl. In a matter of minutes the police, EMT’s, and firefighters had things under control. The cops had corralled the looters; EMT’s were attending to the injured and the firefighters doing their thing. Neither, Benny or Carl answered their cell phones, so we had noother choice but to check with the local hospitals. This could go onall night.
We had decided that we would split up and go to different hospitals. When I turned around to leave, I noticed a guy runaround the side of a building. It looked like Carl. I couldn’t be sure, but the jacket he wore was distinctive with a Spirits of St. Louis logo on the back. They were a defunct basketball team from the ABA. It was from his father’s obscure sports memorabilia collection. I doubted that there were more than a handful left. It had to be him.
Tom had already taken off to check local hospitals, but couldn’t leave. I needed to find out why he was running. Maybe it wasn’t him, but the one other guy on the planet that wore the same jacket and happened to be in the same place as Carl. I took off chasing him. He was well ahead of me, I could see him turn left at a corner by Bailey's Range. By the time I got to the corner, he was gone.
I continued running. I looked down alleys and streets trying to spot him. At the second alley, I saw the jacket thrown over a dumpster. I rushed down the alley and picked it up. Carl’s name, C Bradshaw, was written in the liner. I was baffled; he loved this jacket. Why would he throwit away? Something strange was going on.
I started to leave but then spotted a hundred dollar bill on the ground, then another about ten feet farther down the alley. My guess was cash from the armored truck. The jacket was worth more than two hundred dollars. Did Carl have financial troubles? Was Benny with him? I decided to follow the money trail to see where it led. Could this be a crime of opportunity? Itdidn’t seem like something Carl would do.
My cell phone rang. It was Tom.
“Hey, I found Benny. He’s at St. Alexius. He has minorinjuries, but he’ll be fine.”
“Great! Will he have to stay in the hospital?”
“No, he’ll be released shortly. I’ll wait for him. Did you find Carl?”
“No, he’s disappeared. I thought I caught a glimpse ofhim, but I couldn’t catch up, so I’m not really sure it. I found his jacket on a dumpster. Crazy. He loved that thing.”
“You’re right, that makes no sense. Let me talk to Benny to see if he knows what happened to him. I’ll call you back if I find out anything.” Tom hung up.
Standing in the alley, I threw the jacket over my shoulder then turned to walk down the street. I nearly got run over by Carl as he rode past on a Lime bike.
He yelled, “Get out now before it’s too late.” Then he tossed out handfuls of cash. They floated to the ground like snowflakes.
The ringing phone startled me. “Steve, it’s Carl. We need to talk.”
“Where are you? What the hell’s going on?”
“You know where the Eat-Rite Diner is on Chouteau?” Carl asked.
“Yes, I’m close.”
“I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes. I’ll explain everything.”
Carl was at the booth when I arrived at the diner. I slid into the seat across from him.
I thrust the jacket toward him. “What’s going on and don’t lie? “
“That’s not mine.” He said.
With a smug look, I pointed to C. Bradshaw, written in bold black letters in the liner. “It’s got your name in it.” My fist banged the table. “How many people named C. Bradshaw own a jacket like this?”
“Two that I know of … me and my twin brother Craig.”
“Twin brother?” A shiver went up my spine. “I’ve known you since we were freshman in college. That’s ten years ago. You’ve never mentioned a brother.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
“My brother started hanging out with a bad crowd in high school. We went to different
colleges. He continued his bad behavior and got kicked out and never returned home. Craig was always looking for easy money, so he took to running scams. I sent him money from time to time over the last ten years to get him out of trouble, but I recently cut him off.”
“Does this have something to do with the explosion and the armored truck?” I asked.
"I suspect he's involved. I just don't know how. But thereal problem is that
I’ll be blamed. He’s vengeful and likes to create a disturbance.”
"I saw you … er … Craig passes me on a Lime bike, throwing hundred dollar bills inthe air. Is that what you mean by causing a disturbance?”
“Exactly. I’m sure he’s been photographed by dozens of smartphones. His face is my face, so that’s bad for me.” Carl pointed to the TV. Police had a suspect they wanted to question. It was a picture of Craig riding a bike tossing money in the air, and identified as Carl Bradshaw.
Steve looked at Carl. “This isn’t good.”
“Now that my … his … that photo is on the news. He's going to drive away making
me the suspect. That’s what he does.” Carl rubbed his forehead. “But there’s more.”
“More? Holy crap, what else could there be?”
“He came into town to ask for money. He was pissed when I turned him down. Without him knowing I put a tracker on his belt buckle. I know where he is. I need to get him before he leaves town, but I’ll need help.”
“Let me call Tom and Benny.”
"Thanks, we made need them. Craig's smart, but he has a routine. I know what it is. Here's what we'll do …"
We all met at the 7-Eleven on Southwest Avenue. “Craig always stops for a Big Gulp. It will be either here or Gravois. Steve and I will go to Gravois. Call if you see him.”
Benny looked puzzled. “Wait! How will we recognize him?”
“Huh! He’s my twin … look for me.”
Tom shook his head. “Benny, you’re sharp as a bowling ball.”
We tracked Craig to Gravois, and thankfully a cop was there getting coffee. Steve pointed him out to the officer. He was immediately recognized and cuffed.
No one expects to be taken down because of a Big Gulp.
Later in his apartment, Carl smiled as he sat and counted a stack of crisp hundreds. He hoisted a cold Bud and laughed at how he finally got revenge on Craig for a lifetime of dirty tricks, even his friends were clueless.
Knock, knock. “Open up, it’s the police.”
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