CHAPTER 16
“Did you say ‘Boom-Boom’?” Mamma asked, alarmed.
“As in the ‘Boom-Boom’?” Bugsy said, face contorted with disbelief.
I screwed up my nose in confusion. “I have no idea what either of you are talking about.”
“I could take a stab in the dark,” said Stella. “But I think my definition of a ‘boom-boom’ is very different to what your folks are talking about.”
The four of us were sitting on crates in Mamma’s warehouse, the documents from Howard Hart’s desk strewn across the floor before us.
Mamma had picked up the telegram from Herr Bockenheimer telling Hart that the project he was working on was complete.
“This explains why my damn ears are still ringin’ from the blast,” said Bugsy.
“That was no tin-can boobytrap of a bomb that took out Ginger’s,” added Mamma. “That was the work of the maestro.”
I held up my hands to make a T-shape. “Whoa, whoa. Mamma, Bugsy… time out. I got no idea what you’re talking ab out, so would you mind letting me and Stella in on the conversation?”
“Sorry, son,” said Bugsy. “One day all of this will be second nature to you, once you become the kingpin of Wilde City.”
“Oh, slow down! Whoever said I wanna be the kingpin of Wilde City? I don’t want that job at all.”
“Sure you do. And I’ve decided I’d like you to start calling me Pops. That’s what you called me before and I kinda liked it.”
“If I’m honest, it just kinda slipped out in the moment. I wasn’t expecting it to become a habit.”
Bugsy sounded offended. “What’s wrong with calling me Pops? You call her Mamma.”
“That’s because it’s her name.”
“Not when I first met her it wasn’t. Not until she decided to try to beat me at my own game.”
Mamma gave Bugsy a clip behind the ears. “Maybe if you hadn’t bought that necklace for Minnie the Smoocher I wouldn’t have got so angry.”
“If you must know, I didn’t buy Minnie anything. That necklace fell off the back of a truck.”
“Mamma! Pops! Please can we forget the barney and concentrate on the ‘boom-boom’ for one minute.”
“He’s right. Why fight? I’m sorry, my delicious Mamma Muffins,” cooed Bugsy in a tone that caused me instant reflux.
“I’m sorry too, my Bubby Bugsy Boo-Boo,” baby-voiced Mamma.
With lips puckered, my parents caved against one another in one big messy, mushy lovefest.
“Oh my God,” I winced. “I’m never gonna save Harry in time.”
Thankfully, Stella sorted things out, jumping off her crate, stepping up to my parents, and slapping them both around the cheeks and ears. “Hey! Hey! Boo-Boo and Muffins! Put your sloppy pink bits back in your heads and quit canoodlin’, would ya! We’re heading toward a different kinda climax right now, so stop pumping the breaks and let us get on with the plot. Capiche ?”
Mamma and Bugsy promptly separated.
Bugsy cleared his throat and straightened his tie.
Mamma’s eyelids fluttered busily like she was trying to blink away the stars. “Of course, where were we?” she asked, before answering herself. “Ah, that’s right. Berthold Bockenheimer, otherwise known as ‘Boom-Boom’ Bockenheimer, the greatest, most lethal bombmaker in the world. He’s a maniac for mayhem, a fanatic of doom and destruction. He’s so obsessed with his explosives that he cut off his own right hand and replaced it with an assortment of tools and gadgets to make his bombmaking skills even more efficient.”
“In other words, he’s completely crazy,” interpreted Stella.
“Correct,” Bugsy nodded. “He also happens to be a devoted and influential member of Germany’s swiftly rising Nazi Party.”
“So, are you saying Boom-Boom Bockenheimer set off the bombs that blew up Ginger’s and the Peking Empress?” I asked.
Bugsy nodded again. “Without a doubt. But those blasts were just to whet his appetite. Nobody hires Boom-Boom just to light up a gin joint and a Chinese junk. No, the Germans have commissioned him to do something much, much bigger.”
Mamma was already looking over another document. “What’s this? It looks like a giant mechanical snake.”
“That’s The Millennium Express ,” I said. “It’s Hart’s rocket-train and it’s where I need to be if I wanna save Harry.”
“Wait a minute, who’s Harry?” asked Bugsy.
I sighed impatiently. “Holden Hart. He’s Howard Hart’s son.”
“And Buck’s boyfriend,” added Mamma with a wink to Bugsy.
Bugsy’s eyebrows arched excitedly. “You didn’t tell me you were in love.”
“I guess maybe because I’ve been too busy trying to get you two back together, and solving this case, and doing my cotton-pickin’ best to stay alive.”
Mamma looked at her ex-husband with a crinkled brow. “Surely you had an inkling. Didn’t you see the goo-goo eyes they gave one another after the explosion at Ginger’s?”
“He probably had smoke in his eyes,” I answered for Bugsy to try and shut the topic down. “And for the record, Harry and I never use words like ‘goo-goo eyes.’ Now, can we please get back to figuring out exactly what Howard Hart and the Nazis are up to?”
“Do you even need to know?” Mamma asked, standing up and grabbing a crowbar. “I mean, you’re certain they’re up to no good, right?”
I nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“And you’re certain they’ve kidnapped your boyfriend, loaded him onto that train, and you need to get him back, right?”
“Yes. God, yes!”
Mamma shoved the crowbar under the lid of a nearby crate and pried it open. “Well, poring over a bunch of paperwork ain’t gonna get him back.” She pulled a shotgun out of the crate, evidently one of many. “But this might.”
“What are you saying?”
Bugsy piped up. “Mamma’s saying if you wanna save your boyfriend, we need to get you onto that train… and give you the best possible chance of getting out alive. Consider this your first lesson in gangster school. Back yourself, arm yourself, get yourself the hell out of there.”
“But I don’t wanna go to gangster school! I just wanna save Harry!”
Mamma threw me the shotgun.
Instinctively, I caught it.
Bugsy and Mamma exchanged a smile at my reflexes.
“Maybe he’s his father’s son after all.” Mamma grinned.
“Or his Mamma’s boy,” Bugsy smirked .
“Either way,” said Mamma. “We need to get him on that train.”
Stella started jumping up and down. “Ooh! Ooh! Me too! You need to get me on board too.”
I shook my head. “Stella, there’s no way you’re getting on that rocket-train.”
“You see, you say the words ‘rocket-train’ and there’s no way I’m not! ”
I heaved another sigh. “Okay! Okay! So what’s the plan?”