“Two bombs have exploded downtown today within minutes of each other,” the newswoman on the radio declared. “The first was in a music store on Marketplace, the second was in the Paramount Center during a concert rehearsal. The police have no leads so far–“
Nicky Saint turned off his transistor radio and swiveled his chair around to look out of his office window. Past the words “Detective for Hire” he watched as innocent people casually walked through the snow covered street two stories below. To nearly all Bostonians this was just another cold winter day in January, but to Nicky Saint, this was a day he’d been dreading for a long, long time: January 5th, the twelfth day of Christmas.
The chatter Nicky was listening to on his contraband police radio had already informed him that the BPD had no leads. However, what he heard next was the clue he’d been waiting for.
“This is Lieutenant O’Brien, District C-6 ballistics expert, at the scene of the Marketplace Street bombing,” the voice crackled, “Chief Inspector Lewis wanted an update as soon as I had one. Tell him we’ve determined that the detonation device was planted inside a drum.”
The drummer most likely wasn’t the target, just the trigger, Nicky immediately thought.
Twelve drummers drumming. Two down, ten to go.
Nicky Saint grabbed his overcoat and scarf and headed outside. With dozens of music stores all over town, a handful of performance centers, not to mention dozens more drums in private citizens homes, where would the holiday bomber strike next?
Nicky took out his pipe and lit it while he thought. Killers like this want maximum impact. Explosions are meant to be seen, heard, felt. They’re almost like mini performances themselves–concerts of flame, ash and death.
On the street corner was a newsstand. On the back page of today’s newspaper there was a large advertisement for the music store that got bombed. “Everything must go!” it said. “One day only liquidation sale.”
Nicky flipped to the paper’s entertainment section. Sure enough, there was a concert at the Paramount Center scheduled for tonight. The orchestral drummer was probably just warming up earlier than anticipated.
Where would the next target be? Nicky flipped through the paper looking for more clues. He found the answer on page twelve.
“Three Kings’ Day Parade,” the headline of a short article said. “For the thirtieth year in a row, scores of people will come downtown to celebrate the start of the feast of Epiphany with the journey of the three wise men.” The rest of the article went on to say there would be floats, dancers and a marching band.
A decent sized drum line had at least three snare drum players, five tenors and one bass drum. That’s nine chances to blow the Boston skyline sky high.
Nicky looked down at his wristwatch. The parade was scheduled to start at noon and march down Tremont Street. He had five minutes to make it across town before…
A puff of smoke rose up towards the clouds from the direction of Brookline. Police sirens began to wail. People on the street began to point and murmur. Nicky Saint went the opposite direction. He had a parade to stop.