by Dan Kolbet
“What about the data you recorded? Where did that go?”
“He had a laptop inside the lab that I used and we filed everything away.”
“Do you remember if it was issued by the university?”
“No it wasn’t. The university used PCs, but this was a Mac.”
“So it was probably his personal computer.”
“I never thought about it much, but yes, it probably was. I thought that it was a computer for the lab only because I only used it there.”
“So what does that tell us?” Kathryn asked.
“It means that whatever experiments he was doing right in front of me, weren’t university sanctioned,” Luke said.
“I agree. So the laptop is the key if we want to find out what exactly he was working on, but I have no idea where it would be.”
“His possessions had to go somewhere after he died. What about his wife, Loretta? She probably still has all of his things.”
“He wasn’t married,” Kathryn said.
“Yes, he was.”
“There is no record of him being married. Even on his death certificate – and yes, I did go as far as to check it,” Kathryn said.
“That doesn’t fit. He wore a wedding ring. I noticed it because he always took it off when he was working in the lab. He even had me send Loretta flowers on their anniversary.”
“I don’t know who you were sending flowers to, but it wasn’t his wife.”
“I guess we should start with her,” Luke said.
“Do you have her number?”
“No, but I’ve got a pretty good idea how to find it in the morning.”
The bartender made the rounds to all the tables and announced it was last call. It was nearly 1:30 a.m. Luke couldn’t believe they’d stayed there so late. They both had had a lot to drink. The downtown streets of Portland were relatively safe at night, but Luke decided the right thing to do was to walk her back to her apartment, given the late hour. She didn’t protest.
She lived in a 15-story complex on SW Salmon Street near Chapman Square. Standing outside in the breeze, her hair blew into her face and she was repeatedly tucking it behind her ear.
“You want to come up for some coffee?” she asked. “Maybe sober up a little before heading home.”
Her eyes told him to take her up on her offer. He knew what going up to her apartment would lead to. They were standing just inches apart. The writing was on the wall, but rejecting her could backfire too.
“I think maybe I should just head back,” he said. “Get an early start on finding this laptop in the morning.”
She flashed him a knowing smile, took a small step forward and reached up, placing her right hand on the back of his neck. She pulled him close and lightly kissed him on the mouth.
“Thanks for dinner.”
With that, she turned and walked into her building, leaving Luke to wonder what it would have been like if he’d accepted her offer.
Chapter 24
Luke hit a button and unfrosted the glass surrounding his workstation. It took him about 15 minutes on the phone to find the address for Loretta. He recalled the name of the shop he had used to send her flowers on behalf of her husband. Rainbow Flowers. He told the shop he was an administrative assistant trying to find a distant relative’s place for his boss. After some arm-twisting the girl on the phone reviewed the addresses of orders sent on behalf of Blaine Kirkhorn. There were only two. One was to Kirkhorn’s home address in Palo Alto. The other was to an address a few miles south.
“Can you tell me who the orders were addressed to?”
“They both went to women named Loretta. Loretta Kirkhorn and Loretta McDonald.”
“Are they the same person?”
“How in the world would I know that?”
“Good point. How about this? What did the deliveries consist of?”
“I thought you just needed to know the addresses to find and old relative.”
“Yes, and you’ve been very helpful, but can you tell me what was sent?”
“I’m sorry, I just have the cost listed, not the items delivered. But I can tell you they were large orders. The charges are all for $115 apiece, plus tax of course.”
“So they were probably the same bouquet?”
“Like I said, I don’t have that here. We don’t have itemized order records that go back that far. Would you like to place an order to one of those addresses?”
“No thank you, but I appreciate your help,” Luke said as he hung up the phone. Since Kirkhorn spent the same amount on each, it had to be the same woman with two last names.
He found an online reverse directory and got phone numbers associated with both addresses. He called the number attached to the address he thought was Kirkhorn’s old house.
“I’m sorry,” said a friendly man who answered. “There’s no one by that name who lives here.”
“I was afraid of that,” Luke said. “I’m trying to find an old friend. Maybe you can still help me. Did you buy the house from a professor from Stanford named Kirkhorn.”
“I’m not sure. It was an estate sale. We never knew the previous owners.”
He called up the second address on an online search and saw it was for a retirement community called Palms Arms Living Center.
“Hello, I was hoping to speak to one of your residents, Loretta Kirkhorn,” Luke said. He could hear the tapping of the computer keyboard as the name was entered.
“Doesn’t look like we have a resident by that name,” said the elderly woman in a slow, measured voice.
“How about Loretta McDonald? Maybe I’ve got my names mixed up.”
“No, McDonald is a winner, just the wrong place. Loretta McDonald hasn’t lived here in years. I remember her, she was very nice.”
“Can you tell me where she moved to?”
“Well, I’m a volunteer here. Actually I’m a resident here, but I say volunteer, because they don’t pay me nothing. They tell me I can’t give out personal information about the residents.”
“But it sounds like you know where she went, right?”
“Of course I do, honey. I know everything that happens around here. I work at the front desk.”
Chapter 25
Tucson, Arizona
Loretta McDonald stared at the hanging ceiling tiles above her bed. The white tiles were speckled, which provided just enough of a peak to allow cobwebs to take hold. She had been looking at three cobwebs and their residents for the past eight days. The spiders didn’t bother her much. She needed the excitement. She remembered it had been eight days since that was when they moved her into the room. Her previous room was a private one and had a nice view of the sunset over the mountains each evening. Now, she was sharing the room with Glenda, who besides having an ungodly smell, just didn’t know when to stop talking. Morning, afternoon and into the night Glenda talked.
Despite her efforts to show her indifference, Loretta was forced to listen. There wasn’t much a quadriplegic could do to escape when they were in bed. If it wasn’t the construction happening on the ceiling above her pillow or the chattering of Glenda, Loretta’s only way to pass the time was television. And she loathed television. The other residents of Sunset Ridge couldn’t get enough. They became virtual zombies, plopped in front of their screens with glossy eyes. Game shows, news programs, soap operas – it didn’t matter, they watched them all. Loretta had given up on television years ago.
Her eyesight was finally going, so she wasn’t able to read her favorite authors any longer. Though she still had her electronic book attached to a swivel arm next to the bed. It was useless, but familiar and she wouldn’t let them take it away. The little device held her entire library of books - 73 years worth of titles. She knew she’d never read them again, but having them close by was reassuring.
She had partial control of both left and right hands. Mounted on the bed next to her right hand were a small joystick and several buttons. From the controls she could move the brace th
at held her head left or right. She could also move the bed into several positions, not that it mattered much. She had no sensation below the neck, except for her hands.
She rarely spoke anymore, although when she was alone in the room, she’d whisper a few country songs to herself. Her memories were from a different life. A better life. Her new room and roommate were all thanks to a dwindling bank account. She always thought there was more money in the account, but it seemed to be going faster and faster every month. Of course, she had a death horizon too. No question. She didn’t know how many years she could hang on, but she did know how much money she had to pay for her stay at Sunset Ridge. Her shared room was one-third cheaper per month than her private room. She needed to economize or face the real possibility that she’d be placed in a state-run facility. She did not want that to happen. She was cared for as well as she expected to be. The staff wasn’t the best, but they provided the minimum care she required.
A green light flickered on below the wall clock, indicating that one of the nurses was about to enter – another welcome feature of the place. Residents don’t get caught with their pants down.
Glenda’s aimless rambling about the cabin her cousin used to own on Lake Michigan came to a thankful end as she noticed the light.
“Come on in!” She bellowed toward the door. “We’re both decent!”
A nurse named Larry stepped into the room and walked past Glenda.
“Loretta, are you up for a visitor?”
A visitor? Loretta hadn’t had a visitor in more than four years and even then it was an insurance man. She pushed the button to raise the bed up, so she was in the seated position and more presentable.
“I guess it’s all right,” her frail voice squeaked out. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Larry went back into the hallway and let the guest in.
He was a big man who towered over her. His speckled gray hair was parted on the site in an unnaturally straight line. White, crusty spittle marked the corners of his mouth.
She could tell the smile was forced. Damn salesman, she thought. He pulled up a chair adjacent to the bed.
“Loretta, I’d like to talk to you about Blaine.”
Chapter 26
Luke and Kathryn took the first flight from Portland to Tucson, but it was already late evening when they arrived, so they had to postpone their visit to Loretta until morning. Luke booked separate hotel rooms for them near Sunset Ridge so they didn’t see each other until breakfast the next morning. There was still an obvious tension between them that started on the sidewalk outside her apartment in Portland.
“What are you going to ask her?” Kathryn asked, dipping her spoon into a bowl of yogurt and granola.
Luke had spent his five-mile morning run wondering the same thing. The woman didn’t know him, but she was the only connection he could dig up to Kirkhorn.
“I’m hoping that maybe she knows something about what Kirkhorn was researching over the last years of his life, Luke said. “But it’s a long shot. I don’t know that she was ever involved in his research. I never saw her at the school, not even once in four years.”
“At the moment, she’s the only lead we have. So, let’s hope she’s willing to talk.”
“Especially to a couple of strangers.”
Luke pulled their rented sedan into the retirement home’s parking lot and they both walked into the lobby. An orderly led them down a series of hallways to Loretta’s room.
“She’s a surprisingly popular woman these days,” the orderly said.
“How do you mean?” Luke asked.
“Mrs. McDonald doesn’t get too many visitors, but you two are now her second and third in the last two days.”
Luke and Kathryn exchanged a quick glance, but had no reason to think that the visits were related. The receptionist punched a few buttons and directed them down the hallway.
Glenda excused herself when Luke and Kathryn came in the room and introduced themselves. Loretta was sitting in a motorized wheelchair by the window, her head strapped to the back of the chair.
“Loretta my name is Luke Kincaid and this is my co-worker Kathryn Tate. I used to work for Blaine when he was at Stanford and I was hoping that I could ask you a few questions.”
“You can ask, but I can’t guarantee any answers,” she said. “You’re the soccer player, right?”
“Yes, I played soccer at Stanford and worked as a Teaching Assistant for your husband.”
“He wasn’t my husband.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were married.”
“We were, but after my accident, he divorced me and here we are.”
Loretta didn’t look angry. Luke was searching for a reason Kirkhorn would have divorced her in such a condition. Maybe he didn’t really know the man at all.
“Your accident, can you tell me what happened?”
Loretta cleared her throat, most people were afraid to ask. She respected Luke for not shying away from the obvious question.
“I used to ride barrels competitively when I was a girl. Damn good at it too. Made some extra cash on the national rodeo circuit and got to see the country. But that was a long time ago. Even after I officially retired I kept riding, even did a little bit of coaching for the younger riders.”
She paused and closed her eyes, as if trying to recall the memory from the back of her mind.
“I was working with this young girl on a ranch in Montana - granddaughter of a friend of mine. You see there is only so much you can tell someone about riding. At some point you have to show them – especially when they don’t get it. And this girl didn’t get it. So, hindsight being 20/20, I shouldn’t have done it. But I mounted the girl’s horse. Just so I could show her how to maximize her final turn. You see she was dragging her heel on the mare’s flank and slowing it down. The damn thing got spooked by an unfamiliar rider and bucked me off. Damaged my spine at C1, C5, C6 and C7.”
“I’m so sorry,” Luke said. “There’s nothing medically that can be done?”
“Nothing. Not when the damage is so severe in so many places. You hear about people gaining back some control of their limbs under certain circumstances, but that just wasn’t in the cards for me. So that’s my sad story, but you didn’t come to hear about me, now did you. What to you want to know about Blaine?”
Luke explained that he and Kathryn worked for MassEnergy and wanted to know more about Kirkhorn’s research.
“Like I said, I was his TA for a few years during college and I think there may have been a link between some of what he was working on and what we’re researching today. Did he ever talk about his work with you?”
Again, she closed her eyes for a few moments before beginning to speak.
“I fell in Montana on a Sunday morning. Blaine flew up to see me in the hospital Monday. He was very concerned about me. So concerned in fact that he filed for divorce on Wednesday. The next time I spoke to him on the phone I remember distinctly what he told me. He said that he expected his life to get very busy soon and that I’d be better off without him. He was so busy that he was about to hire an teaching assistant – you.”
Luke knew he was Kirkhorn’s first teaching assistant, but not about the curious timing. Kirkhorn kept his personal life mostly to himself, but this was very much a surprise.
Kathryn couldn’t believe what a jerk the man seemed to be.
“Who would divorce a woman that just became paralyzed? What an ass,” she said.
“I’ve wondered that myself,” Loretta said. “He was a wonderful man for our entire marriage. We rarely had an argument. Even after three decades, we were best friends. Never once did I think that we wouldn’t be together, but I’ve accepted what he did. We had a great life together. I’ve forgiven him.”
“I’m sure that was a difficult thing to do,” Kathryn said.
“In some ways, yes. For some reason he couldn’t handle my accident – couldn’t handle being with me. After so many years of marriage he wasn�
�t going to give any more. I can’t fault him for that, he’d reached his breaking point.”
“So he never discussed his work with you?” Luke asked again, just to confirm that the trip was in fact a total waste.
“No, but I know his focus shifted in his last few years. He’d been working in the mines for so many years that he was on autopilot. He liked the freedom that an academic setting allowed him. Whatever made his life busy, as he put it, was different from all that.”
“How could you tell? Wasn’t this happening right when you got divorced?”
“It was. You see, Blaine always took his work home with him. His whole life, he’d tinker with something after dinner, or at night or on the weekends. He didn’t like being confined to an office or laboratory. Which is probably why he liked the mines – they didn’t come with cubicles and office doors. My point is that he had to pay for his own research when it was conducted at the house. I was staying at an assisted living facility, so I never saw what he was doing, but it was expensive. Since the divorce wasn’t final he needed my signature when he took out a second mortgage on the house. He told me it was important, but that was it. Blaine wasn’t one to waste money. He spent that money on whatever he was researching, I’m sure of it.”
“How much was the second mortgage for?” Kathryn asked.
“A little over $700,000. Enough that when he died, last year it wiped out nearly all of his savings to pay it off.”
“What happened to all of his things when he died?”
“He willed everything to me and I had an estate company sell off as much as they could. This lavish lifestyle I enjoy needed some cash.”
“I was hoping that maybe there was something left over that we might be able to look through.”
“The estate company didn’t sell everything. What’s left is boxed up in storage.”
