A Lit Stick of Dynamite

By Kevin Henkin

Dean Kingston Ellis is bank president with a legendary gunman's past and a suddenly missing ex-wife. When she leaves him a desperate message, Ellis dives back into the underworld of Boston to enlist the help of his brutal band of estranged enforcers. Along the way, Ellis and his crew are joined by the elusive Mina Bell, a woman with a well of dark secrets deeper than a canyon in hell. Together, this unlikely comical band ignites a two-front war with a burgeoning crime lord in Newport and a transplanted mafia clan from New York. But can Ellis save someone who was never meant to be found?

Set in Boston's backstreets of Chinatown and the seaside city of Newport, Rhode Island, A LIT STICK OF DYNAMITE tells the story of a man who is forced to reckon with his true nature, the potential upside of his violent skills and the cost of blind allegiance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Oct 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667868714

Book preview

The only cure for grief is action. – George Henry Lewes

CHAPTER 1

Ellis tuned out the hammering of his own heart. He was listening to the men on the other side of the wall. They were waiting there to kill him.

Where’s Moore? one of the men said. Don’t you think he should be here for this?

I have no idea, said the other. I’m not my brother’s keeper.

The first man snorted. I hate that saying What’s the point of saying you’re somebody’s brother if you’re not even going to help him out when he has a problem?

Relax. It’s just a saying.

Yeah? Well, where’s it come from?

No clue.

See, that’s my point. It’s stupid to go around quoting things when you don’t even know where they’re derived from.

I think I saw it in a meme recently.

Ellis couldn’t stand to listen any longer. He walked into the room with both of his guns drawn and raised.

The men were positioned in the middle of the room, standing too close together. Easy targets. Both of them had their guns tucked into the front of their jeans. They looked back at Ellis with blank expressions.

Cain and Abel, Ellis said.

Those aren’t our names, dickhead, the man on the left said triumphantly. His hair was a floppy mop of bright red hair.

Ellis sighed. I meant the brother’s keeper thing, he said. It’s from the Bible. Cain says it to God about his brother Abel right after he kills him.

The man on the right nodded. You the ex-husband?

The man was tall and muscular with close-cropped hair on the sides but worn long and combed over on the top. He wore a plaid blue designer shirt, which fit tightly across his swollen pectoral muscles. Ellis guessed him to be in his early twenties. Too inexperienced to be afraid, Ellis thought. The man smiled casually.

The divorce isn’t final, Ellis said. Where’s Amber?

She’s not here, the man said. But she said you’d come.

What else did she say? Ellis always wanted to know what Amber said about him.

The man shrugged.

The three of them stood there in silence, Ellis waiting patiently for the next move to unfold.

After a long moment, the man with the red hair grew visibly agitated. He shook his head and said, Primo, stop messing around. Come out here and shoot this prick.

Ellis waited some more until he heard the distinct creak of floorboards in the hallway behind the wall. The redhead reached into his waistband for his gun. The other man was moving too. With both guns, Ellis shot both of the men in front of him. As they fell, he quick-triggered more shots into the wall in front of him.

From the hallway, a man emerged with a shotgun pointed straight ahead. Ellis shot the man in the right arm and then several times in the chest. The shotgun boomed into the ceiling as the man fell onto his back. Ellis kept shooting until he was certain the man was dead. He then nudged the other two with his foot. The men remained motionless on the floor, their eyes open in shock.

Ellis waived at the air in front of him to disperse the stench of gunpowder. Shit, he said.

He walked back into the kitchen and sat down at the table. He methodically replaced the clips in each of his guns and placed them back into the holsters that hung under his armpits.

The clock that hung above him ticked away the seconds, mocking him. Click. Click. Click.

Fuck you, Ellis thought. I’m moving.

He stood and examined his surroundings. He noted the ray of sunlight that spread across the linoleum floor. Within the angled sunlight was a wide smudge of blood. Ellis knelt down and inspected it. The blood was sticky and still wet to the touch. Standing again, Ellis walked into the bedroom, the guns back in his hands.

The queen-sized bed was stripped bare. The mattress was ruined by slashes that revealed the interior springs. The contents of the emptied drawers were strewn across the carpet.

The bathroom was similarly trashed. Bottles and other items from the medicine cabinet were tossed about. As he scanned the room, Ellis caught the fragrance of orange-scented shampoo. Amber’s presence still hovered. He inhaled deeply.

As he turned to go, he spotted a business card tucked into the corner of the vanity mirror. He tucked a gun into a holster and removed the card. Printed on it in large block letters were the words Tom Jacey - TJ’s Contractor. Below the title was a phone number and an address.

Strange place for a business card, he thought, knowing that Amber was obsessive about keeping her things neat and organized. He tucked the card into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and walked out of the bathroom.

In the hallway that led to the kitchen, he passed a large photo hung in an ornate silver frame. He recalled the exact moment when the photo had been taken. It was during their honeymoon in Bermuda. He paused, as he always did, to look at it. He removed it from the wall and held it up closer for inspection.

They were posed in a tight embrace, surrounded by sun-bleached sand and rolling waves crashing in the background. Amber was beaming with a rare uninhibited grin. She was young and ravishing, her long brown hair wrapped around her face as the wind licked playfully at the tips of her mane.

Ellis dropped the photo and watched the glass and frame shatter on the hardwood floor. He bent down and carefully removed the picture from the broken frame. After folding the picture twice, he slipped it into the pocket of his jacket and kept moving.

He headed out to the back yard and found two large containers of gasoline in the shed, just where she said they’d be. He carried the containers into the house and set them down in the hallway. After locating a book of matches in the kitchen, he set to work soaking the floors, furniture and other surfaces throughout the house. He doused the three corpses as well.

After looking around the kitchen one last time, he lit a match and threw it into the puddle of gas in the center of the floor. As the flames expanded into an angry blaze behind him, Ellis let himself out and shut the door behind him.

Less than an hour before, Ellis had missed Amber’s call by mere seconds. Now back in his car, he played the voicemail again as he drove away from her house. The eerie calm in her voice chilled him to the core.

I have no time. They’re coming for me. If I’m not here when you arrive, burn my house to the ground, then come find me. Gas is in the shed. Please…just do this for me. I love you.

That was all her message said, no matter how many times he listened to it.

Those skilled in war bring the enemy to the field of battle and are not brought there by him. – Sun Tzu

CHAPTER 2

Bansville University was wedged tightly between the sprawling beaches of Middletown and the Gilded Age mansions of Newport.

At the front gate, Ellis told the security guard of his scheduled lunch meeting with professor Amber Ellis. The guard nodded and granted him entry. Driving slowly, Ellis admired the campus. Faded red bricks dominated the architecture and the walkways that meandered across plush lawns. Crowds of students buzzed by in every direction.

To his right, beyond a massive sports complex, Ellis recognized the building where Amber’s office was located. It had been more than a year since he’d last visited her there. He turned into a parking lot that fronted the building and pulled into an open spot. After checking the guns fastened in underarm holsters, Ellis eased out of the car and made his way into the building.

The directory in the lobby indicated that Amber’s office was still on the third floor. Ellis rode the elevator up and stepped out. After checking the directory again, he found her office three doors down on the right. The door to her office was closed and locked.

As he examined the door, students and professors passed behind him in both directions. He milled about in the hallway, waiting for the crowd to diminish. After several minutes of sustained foot traffic, Ellis gave up. He headed for the nearest stairwell. Inside, he found what he was looking for.

He pulled out a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, placed it over the lever of the fire alarm and yanked it down. The alarm sprang to life from the speakers overhead. As he stepped back into the hallway, he was met with a crowd of people emerging from the various offices. Their faces seemed to reflect annoyance more than anxiety about the possibility of fire.

Ellis squeezed through the crowd, making his way back to the door of Amber’s office. When the hallway was empty, he took a step back, planted his feet and kicked the door just to the side of the knob. Two more kicks sufficiently splintered the wood around the jamb. Ellis gave the door a shove and pushed it open. He entered the office and pulled the door shut behind him.

He settled into the chair behind Amber’s desk and began searching. In the top drawer, he found standard office supplies. The middle drawer was stacked with a large mirror and an assortment of nail polish bottles, lipstick and other makeup compacts. In the bottom drawer, the deepest of the three, Amber kept a set of hanging folders. Most were tabbed with various class names such as Organic Chemistry and Chemical Biology. The folder placed furthest to the rear was unmarked. As he reached for that folder, the door to the office opened.

A striking woman Ellis had never seen before stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. She appraised him with her dark brown eyes. After a moment, she gave him a smile that held all the warmth of a mannequin.

So, she said flatly. "You must be him."

The greatest deception men suffer is from their own opinions. – Leonardo da Vinci

CHAPTER 3

She looked at him and waited, her empty smile still in place. Clearly, she expected him to explain himself. He returned her smile and sat back, content to wait as the alarm wailed overhead.

She pulled the door behind her into the busted jamb, reducing the noise of the alarm. After sitting in one of the chairs facing the desk, she crossed her legs carefully and pulled her skirt to the top of her knee. The skirt matched her tailored form-fitting suit jacket, which was buttoned and worn over a silver satin blouse.

You’re a cool one, aren’t you? she said. She brushed her fingers through the bangs of her dark brown shoulder-length hair, which gleamed in the office’s fluorescent lights.

I’m just here to see Amber.

After busting in her office door?

I found it that way.

We have cameras. They’ll show you breaking and entering.

There are no cameras, he said. I checked.

She nodded in appreciation. They sat looking at each other some more until the door was pushed open again. A black man in a blue security uniform poked his head inside. His expression shifted from confusion to irritation when he saw them.

There’s a fire alarm, he said. You’re not supposed to be in here. His voice was deep and inflected with authority.

I was told it was a false alarm, Ellis said.

By whom?

Her, Ellis said, pointing at the woman.

I did not! she said in mock outrage.

The security guard looked at them and waited for them to explain themselves. After being met with silence, he said, You’re both going to have to leave.

Ellis and the woman shook their heads in unison at him. The guard opened his mouth to speak but he clamped it shut again when the alarm suddenly ceased in its howling.

Looking down at the shattered wood around the doorjamb, the man said, What happened here?

Kids, Ellis said. I saw two of them kicking in the door after the alarm sounded. I scared them off. I was keeping watch here in case they came back.

And who are you? the guard said.

Ellis gave him his full name. I’m Professor Amber Ellis’s husband, he added.

Ex-husband, actually, the woman said.

The divorce isn’t final, Ellis said.

The woman embraced his statement with a gratified smile.

What did these kids look like? the guard said.

Ellis seemed to give the matter some serious thought. They were white males, he said. Young, probably students.

The guard made a face. White males, he said with a snort. You know how many white male students are here? I need a better description than that.

They were big.

"Ah, I see. Two big white male college students. That’ll narrow it down to about half the campus."

Ellis shrugged. It happened so fast. I didn’t get a good look at their faces.

The guard gave Ellis a hard stare for a moment before shaking his head. He reached into his back pocket and produced a card from his wallet. Looking down his nose, he handed the card to Ellis.

Well, the guard said, if your memory improves, come on down to the station behind the campus center. We have facial portraits of all the students in our database. Maybe you could give it a review for me.

Sure, Ellis said.

The guard nodded with obvious skepticism and left without another word.

After he was gone, Ellis turned his attention back to the woman. So, you seem to know who I am, he said. Who are you?

Mina Bell, she said, extending her hand across the desk. "I know you’ve heard of me and I’ve certainly heard an awful lot about you."

"So you’re her, Ellis muttered. He shook her hand and sat back again. Why are you so interested in what I’m doing here?"

Because Amber is a colleague and a close friend. I try to watch out for her.

He laughed harshly. You’re a lot more than a friend.

My, that sounds like an accusation.

He shook his head. Forget it. I’m just trying to look out for her. Make sure she’s okay.

But why? she said.

Responding to his silence, she said, As in, why not just let her live her life and you go live yours? I think you’d be far happier.

He dismissed that with a wave of his hand. Resuming his search through Amber’s desk, he found the unmarked folder again and pulled it out. The folder contained a pocket-sized calendar with Amber’s scribbled notes and appointments. Ellis slipped the calendar into the breast pocket of his jacket.

Looking back at Mina, he watched as she typed something into her cell phone. When she was finished, she placed the phone back on the desk and smiled at him again.

Here’s what I think, she said. Something happened to Amber and she’s in trouble. She’s asked you to get her out of it. Am I right?

Interesting theory, he said as he stood up.

Wait a minute, she said. We’re still talking here.

He laughed a little. "No, you’re still talking. I’m leaving."

Her expression hardened. Maybe you should think about what you’re doing, she said. If I decide to talk to the police after you leave, your little mission is over.

He paused. How so?

For starters, I could mention those guns you’re carrying in the holsters underneath that jacket. I could also mention that I witnessed you breaking into the office of your ex-wife, a woman who has recently gone missing under suspicious circumstances. That would take quite a bit of explaining, don’t you think? And not just to the campus police. Real police.

Silence hung between them until she said, Be a smart boy and sit down. We’re still talking here, whether you like it or not.

He sat. What makes you think she’s missing? he said.

You tell me. You’re the one setting off fire alarms, kicking in doors, creating mayhem. You’re being reckless, which indicates urgency, she said. Maybe you’re actually as formidable as she claims, but you don’t know anything about her anymore. You’re going to need my help to find her.

And why is that?

Because I have some very intimate knowledge about her troubles.

In the hallway, they could hear students filtering back into the building. A few curious faces peered around the broken door and registered surprise. Ellis’s stony expression kept them moving.

Moments later, a pair of muscle-bound students arrived at the open doorway and blocked it with their sturdy frames. They were both wearing skinny jeans and tight designer t-shirts.

Ah, Ellis said. The Chippendales. I’m a big fan of your dance moves.

The student on the right shook his head. Guy thinks he’s funny.

The one on the left said, You know what I find funny? Kicking the shit out of middle-aged guys who think they’re still tough.

He put some increased effort into his scowl until Ellis removed the gun from his left shoulder holster and aimed it low.

If I shoot you in the knee, it won’t kill you, Ellis said. But it will hurt like hell and will probably give you a limp for the rest of your life.

The student maintained the scowl but backed away until his knee was out of sight behind the door frame. Ellis slipped the gun back in the holster.

Ellis turned to Mina and said, Get rid of these clowns before they bring us any more attention. The broken door is bad enough. If we’re going to talk, we need to do it in private.

She considered that for a moment. It’s okay, she said to the two students and waved them away. You can go.

They both gave Ellis a final threatening stare before disappearing.

Ellis said, Let’s get off-campus somewhere. It’s better that way. Are you hungry?

"Oh, you wouldn’t believe my appetites, she said, her eyes narrowing. After sizing him up for another moment, she stood up and said, You know, I’ve seen you in lots of Amber’s pictures over the years. I have to say, you’re much better looking in person."

Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heels and left the room.

The color of truth is grey. – Andre Gide

CHAPTER 4

They rode over to the wharf area in Ellis’s car. On the way there, they made passing conversation about the weather. The temperature had remained unseasonably warm for early October. When they arrived downtown, Ellis pulled into a space in front of the Banana Republic in Washington Square. They emerged from the car and Ellis locked it with his remote.

This way, she said.

As he followed her, he watched her walk. She was wearing higher than typical heels, and yet she strode effortlessly in them, even across the cobblestones of Thames Street. She led Ellis to a restaurant called the Brick Alley Pub, which was mostly empty in the middle of a weekday afternoon.

In the dining area to the left of the bar, a table was surrounded by people in business attire. The woman at the head of the table was wearing a pointed cardboard birthday hat affixed around her chin with an elastic band. The group seemed at ease and jovial.

Ellis and Mina sat in a booth next to a window facing Thames. Mina ordered the most expensive glass of Chardonnay on the menu. Ellis ordered a bottle of Lagunitas IPA.

After the waitress departed, Ellis said, So you’re a chemical biology professor, just like Amber, correct?

Mina nodded. I am. Together, the two of us really built that department from scratch. She’s almost as knowledgeable about the subject matter as I am.

Humble, Ellis said.

I am, she said. Exceedingly.

Mina said, So what was it like to work for the mafia? Her eyes danced with a playful light.

I didn’t work for the mafia, he said. I was a freelancer.

Ah, she said. Amber told me you liked to split hairs. She said it helped you to ease your troubled conscience.

He shook his head and looked away. Nothing eases my conscience, he said. But I make distinctions when warranted.

Forget your distinctions, she said. I just want to hear what it’s like to be a thug-for-hire.

He shook his head again. I don’t think so.

Why? Because you’re ashamed of it?

Ashamed of what, exactly?

Demonizing deadbeats.

That’s not what I did.

Then clarify it for me.

Ellis laughed at himself, aware that she was getting what she wanted out of him regardless of his protests. He proceeded anyway.

It’s a hard business, he said. "Losing bettors can’t just be allowed to