Descending Son

by Scott Shepherd

  “And all of them died?”

  “Most did, yes.”

  “Someone survived?”

  “The initial one. Our very own Patient Zero.”

  “Who was it?”

  Velma hesitated. Jess realized he’d pushed too far again. “I really don’t think I can tell you that.”

  “Confidentiality?”

  “That and the fact he carefully guards his privacy. If you really want to know more, I suggest asking Dr. Rice. He brought him here and I believe they’re still in touch.”

  Jess rooted around in his brain; something way in the back was trying to dig its way out. Finally, it broke through.

  He was really sick. We did a good job keeping it out of the tabloids.

  His silence gave Velma enough time for discomfort to settle in. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin and made a big production of looking at her watch. “I really should be getting back. They’re going to be wondering where I disappeared to.”

  Jess stood up and offered his hand. “Thanks again for your condolences. I appreciate the time you gave me.”

  “I’m sorry for blabbering on so. I feel like I’ve said too much.”

  No, Jess thought. You said just the right amount.

  8

  Jess was kept waiting by his future brother-in-law for over half an hour. He was certain Rice had talked to Sarah by this time, so he knew he didn’t have the element of surprise on his hands. But he also didn’t expect the physician to give up anything when confronted, so Jess needed a different plan of attack.

  Rice’s outer office was devoid of any personal touch. That included the no-nonsense secretary who had as much personality as the potted plant in the corner. The magazines on the coffee table followed suit; such thrilling titles like Critical Care Medicine and Public Health Journal threatened to put the reader to sleep before they got to the table of contents. Jess had gotten up, crossed the carpet to the window, and stared out at the Meadowland courtyard nearly a dozen times when Edward Rice finally emerged from his office.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Jessie.”

  Yeah, right. “That’s okay. Your assistant and I here were busy making small talk.” This didn’t even elicit a reaction from the dead-serious secretary who hadn’t uttered a word except for, “The doctor will be with you when he can.”

  “Let’s take a walk, shall we?”

  Minutes later they were back in the courtyard and Jess got another friendly wave from the gardener.

  “I like to get out and walk the grounds at least twice a day,” said Rice. “Not only is it good exercise, it gives me a chance to see what’s going on and make myself accessible to the staff and employees.”

  “I really don’t give a shit what you do with your time, Ed.”

  Jess had to hand it to Rice. He didn’t miss a step reacting to his blunt retort. “Look, Jessie. I know the two of us got off on the wrong foot. It might be a good idea if we started over…”

  “Considering we’re going to be brothers-in-law?” Jess pushed on, not giving Rice time to react. “I know my sister. No way she didn’t tell you she sprung the news on me.”

  “I guess it would be silly to think you came all the way over here to congratulate me.”

  “Pretty perceptive.”

  “What do you want, Jessie?”

  “Lots of stuff. First, I wanted to see the expression on your face when you saw I was up and around after leaving me for dead.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You having to call off your engagement because you’re going to be doing a long stint in a jail cell.”

  “I know these past few days have been traumatic. Maybe it wasn’t the right time for Sarah to share the news. In fact, I probably should have waited longer to ask her. But I swear that I love your sister and will do right by her.”

  “Promise me anything you want, Ed. It’s not going to change the way I feel.”

  Rice put on his best bedside manner. “I wouldn’t trust anything you’re feeling right now. Your family suffered a terrible tragedy. I know you and your father had issues, but he was still your father. It’s only natural to have an extreme reaction to the loss of a parent. It isn’t even uncommon to have fits of delusion under such stress.”

  “I’m not delusional, Doc. I just have a lot of questions and I believe you’re the person who needs to answer them.”

  Rice finally stopped walking. “Jessie. You’re all over the place…”

  The physician tried to place a calming hand on his shoulder but Jess shoved it away. Jess immediately rattled off a laundry list, never giving Rice a chance to slip in a word.

  “I want to know who helped you kill my father. I’d also like to know where he went after he came back to life. I’m really interested in who was with you when you clobbered me over the head with a shovel and then dumped me in a desert grave. And while we’re at it, maybe you can tell me what you did with Tracy James and why I can’t find her anywhere. Did you put her in a hole too?”

  “Jess, you’re not making any sense. Are you even listening to yourself?”

  “Does that mean you’re not going to answer my questions?”

  “First off, I’ll ignore the obviously crazy accusations—chalk them up to some kind of psychosis brought on by repressed grief.”

  “Mumbo-jumbo, Doc. So you’re just going to deny everything.”

  “There’s nothing to deny.” Rice pointed at a building across the courtyard. “There are at least two people on my staff you could walk in right now and talk to. I think they’d do you a world of good.”

  “I don’t need help, Ed. Just a few answers. But given the severity of the questions, I understand your reluctance.”

  Jess started for the parking lot. The physician chased after him. Six steps and they were side by side again.

  “At least let me give you something to help calm you down.”

  “Like the stuff you gave my mother? No thanks. She’s walking around like a zombie thanks to you.”

  For the first time, Rice lost a little of his cool. “It might do you some good to feel a little less.”

  “Is that what you and your buddy thought when you walked away from my grave?”

  Rice’s lips narrowed as he tamped down his rising fury. “I’ll say it once more. Get some help, Jessie. Before it’s too late.”

  “I appreciate the threat. I really do.”

  “I presume you haven’t shared any of this with your sister as I would’ve heard about it.”

  Jess reached the SUV and unlocked the door. “Like she’d ever believe a disparaging word about her dear Edward.” He fired up the engine. “Don’t worry. You have her right where you want—under your thumb.”

  Jess slammed the car door before Rice could utter a protest. He squealed out of the parking lot, leaving the troubled physician in a cloud of exhaust.

  Jess had picked out the spot on his way over to Meadowland. It was about one hundred yards down the road in front of a house with a SOLD sign on the front door. He had even peeked inside the windows to ascertain the previous occupants had moved out, so it was easy enough for him to park in the driveway facing the street.

  He had brought along a Subway sandwich, chips, and a drink, figuring when he was done with lunch he could piss in the cup if relief was necessary, just like James Garner did on those Rockford Files reruns. He had purchased a few sports magazines along with a crossword puzzle book, to while away the time. Jess figured he might have a long wait.

  He replayed his conversation with Rice in his head. He was glad that the physician had suggested walking outside. If they had been in Rice’s office, Jess would have been worried the secretary might overhear the conversation. He knew when it came time to go after the physician it might get quite animated and it wouldn’t help if anyone else heard Jess’s wild accusations.

  The moment Sarah told him about the proposal, Jess knew Rice was stepping up whatever plan he had into overdrive. He also realized
the doctor had plenty of time to prepare himself for Jess’s desert grave escape—going on the assumption Rice had put him in it. If Rice were involved with whatever Walter had become, he probably knew about Jess’s survival from the Civatateo himself. A call from Sarah would have only confirmed it.

  Jess knew he had to prompt some reaction on Rice’s part. His purposeful over-the-top tirade was meant to provoke one. If Rice were truly innocent, he would immediately reach out to his mother and sister and insist that Jess was in need of truly serious help. More specifically he would urge them to institutionalize Jess. There would be nothing duplicitous, just a genuine concern for his brother-in-law-to-be.

  But there was another option—kind of a Combo Plate—and the reason Jess was parked across from Meadowland. The first part still held true; he fully expected Rice to work the Starks about getting Jess medical treatment. But if Rice was guilty, Jess figured the physician might get in contact with some of his cohorts—the other assailant, possibly the mystery motorcyclist, maybe even the thing that was now his father.

  Jess didn’t have long to wait. A squad car pulled up to Meadowland within an hour. An exasperated Thaddeus Burke lumbered out and tromped up the path to the building. Fifteen minutes later he came out the entrance alongside Edward Rice.

  The sheriff looked more beaten down than when he had arrived. Rice had dropped the friendly neighborhood doctor façade. He was pissed off. Burke was acting subservient to Rice and it was wearing on him. Clearly, the law wasn’t giving the orders in this relationship. Eventually, Burke drove away and Rice marched back inside.

  Jess considered the meaning of Burke’s appearance. There were a lot of cops in Palm Springs. It confirmed his suspicion that Burke constantly turning up like the proverbial bad penny wasn’t a coincidence.

  The sheriff was in the middle of all the strangeness revolving around Edward Rice and Walter Stark’s family. Jess wasn’t sure how to deal with this information, but thought it best to avoid Burke for the time being. But he knew the next time he crossed paths with the sheriff, he would have to tread extra carefully.

  Then the long wait began. By the time Edward Rice came outside again, Jess had finished the magazine and half a dozen puzzles. Night had fallen and he hadn’t seen any familiar faces since Burke’s departure.

  Once Rice pulled out of his parking space, Jess started up the SUV.

  He had scoped out the physician’s house on the way to Meadowland. It was on the north end of Palm Springs, so he knew if Rice were calling it a night, he would turn left out of the driveway.

  When the physician made a right and floored the gas like a man really anxious to get somewhere, Jess was more than intrigued.

  His plan felt validated.

  He followed from a safe distance.

  9

  Ten minutes later, Rice pulled into the parkway leading to the Palm Springs Country Club. Once Jess realized where the doctor was headed, he slowed down, allowing Rice to move into the parking lot. Jess waited another minute, then pulled up to the gate. He was delayed by the guard, a pokey methodical old-timer, because he didn’t have a sticker identifying him as a member. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, keeping one eye peeled on the upper parking lot where Rice exited his car and headed toward the country club entrance. Finally, after convincing the guard he was the son of one of its founding (but not-as-dead-as-everyone-thought) members, Jess was waved through by the man with a grin as if he had been coming there for years.

  By the time Jess entered the parking lot, Rice had disappeared inside the clubhouse. He parked far enough away so he wasn’t right on top of Rice’s car, checked his look in the mirror to make sure he was presentable enough for the PSCC’s stuffed shirts, and then hoofed it to the front door. This time, Jess beat the staff to the punch and asked for a jacket. Once he slipped into a 42 regular, he walked over to the dining room.

  Dinner was being served but it wasn’t bustling; most of the membership was usually asleep by the time the restaurant opened. Jess saw that there were maybe six tables being used. Rice wasn’t at any of them, which was a good thing, as it would be hard for Jess to hide in the sparsely occupied room. He was about to leave the dining room when he heard Rice’s booming voice.

  This outburst caused a septuagenarian couple to look up and see what was disturbing their vichyssoise. Jess followed their gazes outside the window, where the doctor was on the balcony having an animated conversation with Clark James.

  He found it mighty interesting that Rice made a beeline for the actor at the first opportunity following their confrontation at Meadowland. Jess moved into the adjacent tavern room where he could sit at the bar and nurse a drink while keeping an eye on the physician and thespian. He ordered a Corona from the bartender and charged it to his father’s membership number. Then he staked out an angle where it would be impossible for the two men to see him because of the light reflections in the glass. Not that they were remotely interested in looking his way. They were too busy arguing.

  Jess strained to hear, but Rice and James were now keeping their voices down. The triple pane glass didn’t help matters. He sipped the beer and thought about Clark James. So much for the housekeeper’s intel that the actor was at his Los Angeles home. Jess was certain the Patient Zero that Velma Blake mentioned was James. Tracy had told him how sick her father had been when his movie shut down and he decided to retire.

  Jess considered how the Clark James pieces fell into the jigsaw puzzle surrounding his own father. Some fit; most gave him a headache. He was still trying to sort them out when a hand touched his shoulder.

  “Mr. Stark?”

  Jess looked over to see Jaime Solis, the owner of the country club, standing beside him.

  “Mr. Solis.” For a moment, Jess thought he was going to be kicked out for Bogarting his father’s membership number. But the impeccably dressed Latino offered up a welcoming smile.

  “Jaime. Please. To what do we owe this pleasure?”

  “End of a long day. Thought I’d stop by, try and relax a little.”

  “I am sure this has been a most difficult week for you.” Solis motioned to the bartender. “Please don’t charge Mr. Stark.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” said Jess. “I just threw it on my dad’s account.”

  “All the more reason I refuse to take no for an answer. Have something to eat while you’re at it. We forget nourishment at times of great stress.”

  Jess knew there was no talking the club owner out of the offer. Jaime Solis was a man used to getting his way. He politely accepted the drink and tried to let his eyes casually slip past Solis to peer out the window. Rice and James were getting more into it; their movements were increasingly flecked with anger. Solis seemed oblivious to the goings-on outside and kept his attention on Jess.

  “We will miss seeing your father around here. He was very helpful to me in revitalizing the club. It pained me deeply to see him struggle with his illness. He so enjoyed watching your brother on the course.”

  This surprised Jess considering he couldn’t remember his father attending one of his own high school football games, not even the state championship. “I know Harry loves playing here. He works hard at it.”

  “He’s going to be quite an excellent player. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up being club champion one day.”

  “If anyone could do it, it’d be Harry.”

  “Perhaps we’ll be seeing more of you now? On the links perhaps?”

  “I was never really much of a golfer. Plus I’m not sure how long I’m going to be in town. My work is in Los Angeles.”

  “Well, I hope you make use of the club while you are still with us.”

  Suddenly, Rice yelled from outside. “You’re out of your fucking mind!” This caught Solis’s attention for the first time and he looked over at the doctor and actor out on the balcony.

  Rice was up in James’s face. He had lowered his voice after the burst of profanity but was clearly agitated.


  “You’ll excuse me?” asked Solis.

  “Certainly.”

  “I hope to see you again soon. Please consider having something to eat.” Solis addressed the bartender. “Harold, make sure Mr. Stark gets whatever he wants.”

  Harold nodded and Solis took off for the double doors leading out to the balcony. Jess watched the club owner stride up to Rice and James. The commotion died down immediately as Solis focused on the physician. Rice started complaining but Solis took him firmly by the arm and escorted him out of sight. James watched them go, his face still filled with rage. Jess kept his eye on the actor and noticed him take a couple of deep breaths to regain his composure. James straightened his jacket, even though it wasn’t mussed, as if he needed to be presentable for a possible photo opportunity, and then came through the double doors into the tavern room.

  James sidled up to the bar and sat on one of the stools. Jess decided to state the obvious. “You look like you need a drink, Mr. James.”

  “What I need is my head examined for sponsoring that prick into the club in the first place.” The bartender wandered over but James waved him away. “Maybe later, Harold.”

  “I’m wondering why they let him into the medical profession, period,” offered Jess.

  “Believe it or not, he’s actually a good doctor. But he’s become increasingly insufferable.”

  “So why put up with him?”

  “He saved my life. Have to give him credit for that.”

  “Back in Mexico, right? Tracy was telling me about it the other night. During that disaster movie.”

  “Post-apocalyptic,” corrected James. “The movie was the disaster.”

  “I never really heard about it.”

  “That’s because the film was never finished and we were able to keep most of it out the rags once a few weeks had passed and they found another scandal to chase after.”