Chapter Twenty-Four
Sparlo stood at the window of his office. He’d purchased the space more than two years ago and never tired of the view. From his vantage on the 12th floor, the entire stretch of West Seattle was before him, including a large portion of The Sound and nearby ferries that connected the mainland to Vashon and Bainbridge islands, as well as those traveling to Vancouver, B.C. Beyond that, due south, he could see the tip of Magnolia Bay.
With contentment, he watched rising smoke drifting eastward, driven by strong bay winds.
“That should get your attention, Mr. McPhearson,” he said, tapping his finger against the glass. A knock came from his office door. “Come in,” he said, still looking out the window.
A tall, well-tailored man with glacier-blue eyes entered, his mood casual as he walked to the Italian leather chair opposite Sparlo’s massive cherrywood desk. He sat and crossed his long, Armani pant legs. “How’s the show?”
“Nicely done, Oscar.”
“I called first. Made sure she was there. A couple others ended up as part of the equation but it couldn’t be helped. The whole place fell into the water.”
Sparlo gave a final look out the window before settling into his dark leather wing-back chair. “How long until someone other than our friend realizes it was deliberate?”
“Hard to say. A week? Maybe two? What’s left of the detonator is halfway to the Pacific by now. The rest is at the bottom of the bay.” Spotting a piece of fuzz on his pant leg, Oscar Tarretti brushed it off with one, smooth motion. “Even if they drag it, they’ll find Jimmy Hoffa before they find anything conclusive. It was designed to obliterate the structure.”
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Ned's Blog 
Still sitting on pins and pine needles (as my son said years ago)!
Hahaha! Spoken like a true Northwesterner!