The Case of the Vanishing Twin

"Jesus F. Christ. Are you kidding? That's the body of a man after you hit him with your car? You've got to be shitting me."

"I swear, I am not shitting you. I didn't think anyone would believe me when I explained what I saw, so I took these pictures."

"Well, this is the goriest goddamn thing that I've ever seen. I'm almost afraid to say it, but please continue."

"I know. It scares me just thinking about it. When the Oakland Police Department showed up, they looked around at the scene, the nearly disintegrated body sticking into my car, determined that I must have been driving well over a hundred miles an hour, and arrested me for DUI, speeding, and felony vehicular manslaughter. That's all bullshit. That's not how it happened. I wasn't speeding."

"Then how do you explain the condition of the body and the damage to your car? Oh, wait. Before you answer that, what's up with the DUI? Had you been drinking before you started driving home that night?" I asked.

"Well, that part is true. I had stopped by a bar in Alameda, the 1400 Bar & Grill on Central and Webster Street, and had just two drinks. I felt like I was as sober as a judge. My driving was fine. I wasn't zig-zagging in my lane or anything."

"As far as you know. No one was with you, and there weren't any other cars around, so you don't know for sure."

"Well, that's true. I was just barely over the limit at a.09. That's a joke. Anyway, I'll cop to the DUI, but I wasn't speeding, and I have no idea where the guy I hit came from. I mean, that part of Doolittle Drive isn't close to anything open that time of night. What the hell was a pedestrian doing there? I don't believe it."

"Then where do you think he came from? Just asking."

"I have no idea. But that doesn't mean that something crazy-ass weird isn't going on here. That's why I need your help. For the life of me, I can't figure it out, but that's what you guys train for, isn't it? You're supposed to figure out stuff that other people can't figure out, right? If not, I think I'm screwed. I mean, how can I prove that I didn't hit that guy. He's stuck in the front of my car, for Christ's sake. How the hell did he get there?"

"Okay, Mr. Rodman, I'll do some checking and see if I can get a handle on this and figure out exactly what happened. I can't promise anything. This accident is a bizarre situation. You had been drinking and driving, and you hit a pedestrian. That seems pretty cut and dried. If I were the police, I probably would have arrested you too. You understand that, right?" I asked.

"Yeah, you're right. There's a big fucking arrow pointing right between my eyes. But there's something else going on here. Thank you for agreeing to at least look into this and try to help me. Am I supposed to pay you a retainer or something?"

"Thank you for asking. Yes, please see Nora on your way out, and she'll go over our retainer rates with you."

"Oh, you mean that--"

"Yes, the pretty blonde woman that greeted you when you came in. I'll be in touch after we do some investigating into your case. All right?"

"Okay. Thank you, Miss Fontaine. I feel good about you. I'm sure you can help me. I'll talk to you soon."

OAKLAND POLICE DEPARTMENT

HOMICIDE DIVISION

June 23, 3:50 p.m.

Detectives Marco D'Agosta and Fran Wheeler had been assigned to the Mustang Mulcher Case. Somewhere along the line, someone decided that was the appropriate name for this crime.

"So, Marco, what do you make of this accident? This is one of the craziest auto/pedestrian cases I've ever seen. The facts seem concrete, but something is eating at me. I'll figure it out eventually."

"I think we should go have a look at Rodman's Mustang. I want to see this for myself," replied Wheeler.

Fifteen minutes later, the two detectives were standing next to Keith Rodman's Mustang in the police department's garage. Both of them just stood there shaking their heads.

"This guy says he wasn't speeding?" said Detective Wheeler. "What's wrong with this picture? If this wasn't a high-speed impact, I'm Mary Poppins. This car had to be going well over a hundred miles an hour to cause this kind of damage from hitting a pedestrian. I have a hard time believing a human body could cause this kind of damage no matter how fast the car was going."

"I'm with you, Fran. We need to hire a licensed accident reconstruction expert to help us out. This case is way beyond us."

"I know who we should call. It's an accident reconstruction firm that knows what they're doing. It's a place called Accident Dynamics. They're over in San Rafael," said D'Agosta.

"Okay. See when you can get them over here."

"I'll call them first thing in the morning."

NIKKI FONTAINE INVESTIGATIONS

GRAND AVENUE, OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA

June 27, 8:30 a.m.

It's a full house. Everyone is in the office, and it's only 8:30, even Nora. What gives? Did I threaten everyone about being in early and forgot that I did?

Just then, the door opened, and in walked Nikki Fontaine Investigations' newest member, Morgan Brown.

I think my answer just walked in the door. What the hell's going on here? Are they all here for the pretty boy? I know he's good-looking, but what the fuck? Why would Nora be coming in early? It's not like she even likes guys. I can understand Jessie because she's comfortable on both sides of the fence, but Nora would kill her if she messes around on her. And I'll kill Max if she wanders in his direction. What's that make me? The office master? I don't think so. And I know Barton doesn't give a shit. Won't it be fun watching how all of this plays out? Well, I'd better get things rolling.

"Good morning, Morgan. Can you come in here for a second? Hey, Max, can you join us?"

"Okay, Morgan. Let's get your feet wet and see how you do with a fascinating case. Max, I was hoping you could do a joint investigation with Morgan on this crazy Mustang/pedestrian case. I want you to find a good accident reconstruction expert and see if the OPD will let you and the expert access the Mustang. I'm just dying to know what an expert comes up with for this accident. I'd like to know how a human body could do something like what we saw in those photos to a car. Something's wrong with this whole thing. Keep me posted."

"You got it, boss. I'm sure Morgan and I will get to the bottom of this thing," replied Max.

"See you later, Max?" I asked.

"Definitely. I'll bring," said Max.

11:40 a.m.

"We're meeting the AR expert at the OPD at 2:15 that they hired to take a look at the Mustang," said Max as she leaned her head inside my door.

"Great," I replied. "Let me know what you find out tonight. How about Mexican again?"

"No problem. Morgan and I are going to go out for a quick lunch and discuss this case before we roll on over to the PD to see what the expert has to say."

"Just don't have too much fun, hon," I responded while tilting my head and displaying a mercurial expression.

"Don't worry. Morgan's not my type. I just hate tall, gorgeous, athletic-looking guys," replied Max with a wink of her eye.

GUY-KAKU JAPANESE BBQ

459 8th Street, Oakland, California

June 26, 1:05 p.m.

After a frustrating ten minutes looking for a parking place, Max and Morgan finally got parked within half a block from the Japanese restaurant.

"I'll have an iced tea, please," said Max as she and Morgan were seated at their table.

"Make that two," said Morgan.

"This place has great food. I know you'll like it," said Max.

"I'm looking forward to seeing for myself. I've been in Oakland less than a week, so I'm just learning the lay of the land. I like what I've seen so far. So let me ask you something, Max."

"Sure. What would you like to know?"

"Were you and Nikki speaking some kind of code back in the office?"

"Code? What do you mean?"

"See you later? I'll bring?" asked Morgan.

"Oh, you noticed that," said Max.

"Kinda hard to miss. Do you two have something going on with each other?"

"Well, let me put it like this. Our office is a Don't Ask But Pay Attention place of employment. You'll figure out a few things on your own after not too long if you pay attention. Suffice it to say, don't try to date anyone in the office. Well, except Barton. But I don't think he's your type."

"He's not my type. So I kinda figured out that you and Nikki have something going on. Eliminating Barton from the equation, that leaves Jessie and Nora. Really? I never saw that one coming. I don't want to be so crass as to say, what a waste, because that would be narrow thinking on my part. Do you still think I'll fit in?"

"I do unless you don't have the tolerance for the different versions of love that flourish in our office," replied Max.

"So far, I've liked everyone I have met. I don't see any reason for that to change. I'm always happy to be around love. I'll just have to look elsewhere to find some of my own."

"I like the way you think, Morgan," replied Max.

OAKLAND POLICE DEPARTMENT

HOMICIDE DIVISION

June 26, 2:15 p.m.

Carol Danzig was sitting on a bench in the hallway when Max and Morgan exited the elevator and started walking down the hall. Detective Wheeler had contacted her to take a look at the Mustang, determine what happened, and provide a report. Wheeler heard that Keith Rodman had hired Nikki Fontaine's office to investigate his case, so she gave Nikki a heads-up about hiring Accident Dynamics. They both agreed to have Accident Dynamics do the evaluation in this case, and Wheeler would share the report with Nikki.

"You must be the AR expert from Accident Dynamics," asked Max as she and Morgan got within talking distance of the woman sitting on the bench.

"Yes, that would be me," replied Carol as she stood to shake Max and Morgan's hands. "Detective Wheeler told me to wait here for you so we could all go down to examine the Mustang."

"Have you talked to anyone yet, or were you waiting for us first?" asked Max.

"Detective Wheeler told me to come and find her once you arrived," continued Carol.

"Excellent," said Max.

The three of them walked into the Homicide Division offices and announced themselves to the person standing at the counter.

"I believe we're supposed to meet with Detective Wheeler," said Max. "Is she ready for us?"

"Yes, let me call her for you," replied the sergeant.

"Good afternoon," said Detective Wheeler as she walked into the waiting area. "Which one of you is Max?"

"That's me," replied Max, reaching out to shake Wheeler's hand.

"And I see you've met Carol, our AR expert. Are you ready to take a look at the Mustang?"

"Yes, we are. And hopefully, Carol will be able to determine exactly what did and did not happen in this accident," said Max.

Max couldn't help but notice that underneath the clunky clothes, shoes, and pinned-up rat-ass hairdo, Detective Wheeler was quite attractive. Who knows? With the right outfit, hairstyle, and makeup, she might be a real babe.

Damn. Who'd a thought? She's what I'd call a diamond in the rough.

"Let's go take a look at this thing and get the ball rolling," said Max.

"Okay. Follow me. It's down in the garage, what's left of it. It's a real mess. Have you seen any pictures of the Mustang?" asked Wheeler.

"Yes, we have," replied Max. "But there's nothing like seeing the real thing up close and personal."

"Fasten your seat belts," said Wheeler. "I doubt if you've ever seen damage like this to a car from hitting a person."

After exiting the elevator, Max, Morgan, Carol, and Detective Wheeler walked over to where the OPD kept the wrecked Mustang.

"Jesus," said Max after seeing the car. "The photographs are nothing compared to the real thing. This car looks like artillery hit it or something."

"I know," said Wheeler. "I've never seen anything like it, except in a head-on between two vehicles. I've never seen this kind of damage between a pedestrian and a car--at any speed."

Carol was quiet and reflective as she stooped down, leaned over, and examined the damaged vehicle from all angles.

"You say this is from an impact with a pedestrian?" she asked.

"That's right," replied Wheeler. "I estimate that this car had to be doing well over a hundred miles an hour to cause this kind of damage."

"I don't think so," replied Carol. "I've never seen this kind of damage caused by a pedestrian to a vehicle at any speed. This amount of damage makes it look like someone shot the victim out of a canon straight into the front end of this Mustang. Let me do a few quick calculations to give us a rough idea of the impact speed."

Ten minutes later, Carol had a baffled look on her face as she looked up from her calculator and notepad.

"How fast did the driver say he was traveling at the time of the impact?" she asked.

"The driver said he was driving approximately 50 miles per hour when all of a sudden a pedestrian appeared out of nowhere and struck the front end of his car," said Wheeler. "There were no witnesses to confirm his story, so we're going with the facts and common sense.

"The pedestrian wasn't running faster than a hundred miles an hour or shot from a canon," continued Wheeler. "The only answer left is that the car, which is capable of about 180 miles per hour, according to what I've been able to find out, was traveling at an extremely high rate of speed at the time of the collision."

"There's only one problem with that, Detective," said Carol.

"What's that?"

"That's not fast enough."

"What?" replied Wheeler.

"Wait. What are you trying to say?" asked Max.

"What I'm saying is that my preliminary analysis of the damage to this car, plus some math calculations, indicates that the impact speed would have been over 220 miles per hour. I can't tell you who or what was going at what speed, but somehow the impact speed between the pedestrian and this car had to have been over 220 miles per hour," concluded Carol.

"Well, if that's not a fine howdy-do," said Max. "This car isn't even capable of going that fast unless the owner did some fancy after-purchase modifications. Let's find out about that."

"Well, the driver's out on bail, so one of us is going to have to call him and ask about this," said Wheeler.

"We've got his number," said Max. "We can go back to my office and give him a call and let you know what we find out."

"Okay. Let me know. I'm dying to find out what the hell happened here," said Wheeler.

"Excellent," responded Max.

Usually, you can apply logical mechanics, appropriate mathematical equations, and common sense to an auto accident or auto-pedestrian accident and come up with the answers to explain everything to a satisfactory degree of positivity.

Everyone thought that the AR expert would answer most of their questions after looking at the Mustang, but now all they're left with are more questions than answers.

This case just made no fucking sense.

NIKKI FONTAINE INVESTIGATIONS

GRAND AVENUE, OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA

June 26, 4:10 p.m.

"Hey, y'all," said Max as the three of them walked into the office.

"Hi, guys," replied Nora.

Nikki saw them walk in and walked out of her office to greet them.

"Hey, Max. Hey, Morgan. And you must be the accident reconstruction expert from Accident Dynamics that the OPD hired, right?"

"Yes, I am," replied Carol.

"So what did you guys think of the Mustang?" I asked.

"It looks like they put it on the railroad tracks and hit it with a fast-moving train," replied Max. "I've never seen a car get that kind of damage from hitting a pedestrian."

"We were going to call our client and have Carol see what she can pull out of him to help her do her analysis. After a cursory look at the damage to the Mustang, she believes the impact speed between the pedestrian and the Mustang had to have been more than 220 miles per hour," said Morgan.

"What?" I said. "Two hundred twenty miles per hour?"

"That's right," said Max. "And we know that isn't possible. I mean, a Mustang GT500 is a fast car, but not that fast. This accident is baffling so far. Let's hope Carol can shed some light on this accident."

"What phone can I use to call your client?" asked Carol. "What's his name, by the way?"

"His name is Keith Rodman. Let's go over here, and I'll dial his number for you," said Max. "I'll put it on speaker phone so that we can all hear what he has to say."

"Hello," said Keith as he picked up his phone.

"Is this Keith Rodman?" asked Carol.

"That would be me," he replied.

"Hi. My name is Carol Danzig, I'm an accident reconstruction expert at Accident Dynamics, and the Oakland Police Department has hired us to consult in your case. We're also sharing our findings with Nikki Fontaine's office, who I understand you have hired to investigate your case. We just got back from looking at your Mustang at the police department. And I must say that I've never seen any vehicle sustain that much damage from hitting a pedestrian.

"I need you to go over the facts of the accident with me one more time. Something isn't adding up," said Carol.

"I've told the police and Nikki the same story several times. The important facts are, I was driving my Mustang down Doolittle Drive at about 9:45 p.m., I was driving approximately 50 miles per hour, and out of nowhere, a pedestrian appeared directly in front of my path of travel, and I slammed into him. The impact totaled my car out and sent my airbags flying into my face. The guy's body looked like it had been shredded or ground up by some machine and then splattered all over my engine compartment. And that's all I can tell you about this accident."

"Okay, Mr. Rodman. Thank you for going over your story one more time for me. There's just one thing I need to confirm so I can do my calculations and my report. Please tell me again your best estimate of your car's speed at the time of the impact," said Carol.

"The best I remember, I was driving somewhere around 50 miles an hour, but for the sake of your report, show my speed between 50 and 54 miles an hour. I know I wasn't going at or over 55, and I'm almost positive I wasn't going under 50. That's the best estimate I can give you."

"Okay. Now, I understand that this Mustang of yours is the highest performance Mustang that Ford makes," said Carol.

"Yes, that's correct. It's a GT500, and it has an amazing 890 horsepower. That's enough to melt the tires right off the rims if you keep your foot in it. And if you do keep your foot on the accelerator, it will burn through the tires and melt the rims down to the axle."

"So I guess my question is, with all of that horsepower, you didn't make any performance modifications to your Mustang, like after-market parts to make it faster than it already is, did you?"

"Hell no. I already have enough power to kill myself ten times over if I'm not very careful. The last thing my Mustang needs is more horsepower. That's for pros, not some schmuck like me."

"Okay, Mr. Rodman. I want to thank you. You've been very helpful. We'll get ahold of you again if we need any more information or have any questions for you. Take care now," said Carol as she hung up the phone.

"Okay. If Mr. Rodman didn't do anything to increase the performance of his Mustang, that means he couldn't have driven faster than 180 miles an hour at the most," I said. "And that would be under optimal driving conditions, not on Doolittle Drive at 9:45 p.m. That road isn't long enough or straight enough for that kind of insane speed."

"Well, then that leaves us in a pickle," said Carol. "Because, based on the extent of damage to the car, that's what my figures say the speed was. I'm not sure where we go from here, but I've done about all I can do, outside of sending you my finished report that I'll have done by tomorrow sometime."

"Okay. Thank you, Carol," I said. "I'll look forward to seeing your report. Take care now."