More Twisted

explosives.”
    “Explosives?” Trotter asked, frowning deeply.
    “Don’t get cute,” Lampert snapped.
    “But there was an empty propane tank,” the cop added. “From Rodriguez’s.”
    Trotter added, “I needed a refill. That’s where I always go. I was going there after lunch.” He nodded at the bar menu. “You ever try the tamales here? The best in town.”
    York muttered, “You played us like a fish, goddamn it. Making us think your trash was a bomb.”
    Another cold smile crossed the landscaper’s face. “Why exactly did you think I’d have a bomb?”
    Silence for a moment. Then Lampert turned toward Eberhart, who avoided everyone’s eyes.
    Trotter nodded at the computer. “Hit the play button.”
    “What?” Lampert asked.
    “The play button.”
    Lampert paused as he looked over the computer.
    “It’s not a bomb. And even if it was, would I blow myself up too?” The detective hit the button.
    “Oh, Christ,” muttered Eberhart as a video came on the small screen.
    It showed the security man prowling through an office.
    “Stan? Is that you?” Lampert asked.
    “I—”
    “Yep, it’s him,” Trotter said. “He’s in my office at home.”
    “You told us one of your sources said Trotter was asking about where York shopped and about propane tanks.”
    The security man said nothing.
    Trotter offered, “I was going to stop by the police station after lunch and drop off the CD. But since you’re here . . . it’s all yours.”
    The officers watched Eberhart ransacking Trotter’s desk.
    “So what’d that be?” the landscaper asked. “Breaking and entering, trespass too. And—if you were going to ask—yeah, I want to press charges. What do you guys say? To the fullest extent of the law.”
    “But I . . .” the security man stammered.
    “You what?” Trotter filled in. “You shut the power off? And the backup too? But I’ve been a little paranoid lately, thanks to Mr. York. So I have two battery backups.”
    “You broke into his house?” Stephen York asked Eberhart, looking shocked. “You never told me that.”
    “You goddamn Judas!” Eberhart exploded. “You knew exactly what I was doing. You agreed to it! You wanted me to!”
    “I swear,” York said, “this is the first I’ve heard about it.”
    Lampert shook his head. “Stan, why’d you do it? I could’ve overlooked some things, but a B and E? Stupid.”
    “I know, I know,” he said, looking down. “But we were so desperate to get this guy. He’s dangerous . He’s got books on sabotage and surveillance . . . . Please, Bill, can you cut me some slack?”
    “Sorry, Stan.” A nod to a uniformed officer, who cuffed him. “Take him to booking.”
    Trotter called after him, “If you’re interested, those books about bombs and things? I got them for research. I’m trying my hand at a murder mystery. Everybody seems to be doing it nowadays. I’ve got a couple of chapters on that computer. Why don’t you check it out, if you don’t believe me.”
    “You’re lying!” Then York turned to Lampert. “You know why he did this, don’t you? It’s all part of his plan.”
    “Mr. York, just—”
    “No, no, think about it. He sets up a sting to get rid of my security man and leave me unprotected. And then he does all this, with the fake bomb, to find out about your procedures—the bomb squad, how many officers you have, who your undercover cops are.”
    “Did you leave a Whole Foods bag on the trunk of Mr. Eberhart’s car?” Alvarado asked.
    Trotter replied, “No. If you think I did, why don’t you check for fingerprints.”
    York pointed at Trotter’s pocket. “Gloves, look! There won’t be any prints. Why’s he wearing gloves in this heat?”
    “I’m a landscaper. I usually wear gloves when I work. Most of us do . . . . Have to say, I’m getting pretty tired of this whole thing. Because of what some day laborer said, you got it into your head that I’m a killer or something. Well, I’m sick of my house being broken into, sick of being watched all the time. I think it’s time to call my lawyer.”
    York stepped forward angrily. “You’re lying! Tell me why you’re doing this! Tell me, goddamn it! I’ve looked at everything I’ve ever done bad in my whole life. I mean everything . The homeless guy I told to get a job when he asked me for a quarter, the clerk I called a stupid pig—’cause she gave me the wrong order, the valet I didn’t tip because he couldn’t speak