Red Ochre Falls

by Kristen Gibson

  I saw a flash of light and returned to the green field of my previous dream. The light of day was dim, maybe fading into night. I could just make out the same young girl in her dress as I had before. This time we stood nearer together. Her mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear her, so I inched closer.

  Next to her, an old native man crouched over something on the ground. I watched as he pulled a small brown satchel off his belt. The man’s calloused fingers untied a leather strap that held the bag closed. He said a few words, but I couldn’t hear much because the wind whistling past us.

  The old man said something else then reached inside the satchel and pulled out a handful of a reddish-orange powder. He began chanting and let the dust fall from his hands to the ground. The wind blew it around, but I looked down to where he wanted it to land, and saw a body. The person was unrecognizable. I watched as the powder cover the body. The old man rubbed his hands together. More dust fell and stained the grave.

  The girl in the dress caught my attention. She tried to tell me something. I still couldn’t hear because of something now buzzing in my ear, but watched as she mouthed the same thing over and over. I stepped toward her again—was it one, or won, no. Then a switch flipped off the buzz and I could hear.

  “Run. Run. RUN!” She screamed at me. I turned to see what she wanted me to run from and everything went black.

  BEEP! BEEP! “Hello?” The intercom sounded distant. BEEP! “Mattie, are you there?” Garrett’s voice pulled me out of the dream world. I must have drifted off a bit.

  “Yes.” It felt like my body was nailed to the couch. It took me a minute to move and pick up the phone.

  “Stanley’s gone, and Ryder’s covering. Come on down, we’ll grab lunch, and review the plan.”

  “I thought we didn’t have a plan.”

  “We don’t,” he admitted. “But we’ve got a little bit of time to make something up before the meeting.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll lock up and meet you downstairs.” I checked outside. The sky had turned grey green, so I grabbed a jacket and an umbrella, just in case. Then padded downstairs, determined to get some answers about Chloe’s murder.

  We agreed to grab a quick lunch so we could spend some time reviewing the information we had and preparing questions. The problem is, I’m short on cash and bills don’t pay themselves. Wouldn’t that be nice? Before I could say much of anything, about lunch or questions and murders, Garrett pulled up a chair for me and asked me to sit.

  “Can you help me with something?”

  “Sure, I guess,” I answered him.

  “I planned on picking up lunch, but we have some paperwork to submit and Ryder is tied up right now. It isn’t a job requirement, the pay isn’t great, but it would really help us out. Would you be interested?”

  Would I be interested? In my head it sounded desperate and sarcastic. “Of course,” I said in a normal voice. “What do you need me to do?” I figured they’d give me some mundane job like stapling papers, checking e-mails, or making coffee.

  Turns out the guys hate writing obituaries. Obits are informational paragraphs, sometimes stories, about a person who died. They typically include the deceased’s name, a bit about their family, what type of services would be held, along with the where and when. They’re needed for practically everybody who comes through here. If I worked it right, this could turn into a nice side-job.

  The problem was I had no idea how to write, format or even submit an obit. Garrett agreed to teach me. I grabbed some paper and a pen to take notes. He handed me a newspaper with some obits circled in red. He gave me a slip of paper with a website and login information, and some paperwork for Harvey Glump.

  I eyed Garrett because he knows this one wasn’t going to be easy.

  Harvey Glump came in with his wife a few weeks ago to make a down payment on his funeral in advance. He was a real jerk to his wife; criticized the way she walked, corrected nearly every comment she made, and pushed her when she didn’t move fast enough out the door.

  The only reason I knew it was because mom and I happened to be waiting for a tour of the casket room at the time. Hank asked us to wait in the parlor next to the office up front, so we heard a lot of what he said. Afterward, Hank told us Glump was the guy on the news connected to a real estate scam. Glump had ‘allegedly’ conned a bunch of old folks to invest in a Florida retirement community with the promise of timeshares in winter and profits from managed rentals the rest of the year. I could see how it might be an easy sell; especially since we lived in the snow and ice belt.

  Maybe Glump got what was coming to him, or maybe he was innocent, but he seemed like a jerk. Like Tab thirty years from now. Ok, it was harsh, but I did not like mean people.

  “How much does this pay?” I wondered if it was worth it.

  “We can negotiate the fee, but I will make it worth your while.” He knew he had me hooked. “I’m heading out. Will bring back food, then we can go over some paperwork to prep for our meeting.”

  “Okay. I’m pretty sure I’ll need sustenance if I’m going to negotiate with you, so bring me one of whatever you’re having and a soda.”

  He left. I sat there looking at Harvey Glump’s file. What should one write about a person they didn’t know, and certainly didn’t like? I read a few of the obits in the paper and scanned a couple more on the computer—you can look up everything online these days. After reading several examples, I stared at a flashing cursor.

  In some article archived in my brain, I’d read that the best way to tackle a blank page was to just let it rip—write anything and everything down and edit afterwards.

  Here goes: Harvey Glump. He was a real jackass to his wife, rumors around town said he swindled old people out of their life savings in a fake real estate deal, and probably no one will miss him much. It was a rough draft, but it had potential.

  Second draft: Harvey Glump lived a corrupt life. He stole from the elderly, treated wife poorly, and was an all around jerk. His death will be celebrated Tuesday from 6-8 pm with a Mass and party to follow Wednesday at 10 am. Donations to the people he swindled and his poor wife for enduring 35 years of his crap will be accepted in plain envelopes anytime between now and Thursday.

  There, I felt better already. Too bad I couldn’t use any of it. Although it was creative, I needed to start over. This was harder than it appeared. I wondered if a drink would help.

  No one was around. I thought about raiding the desks for a bottle of something mind-altering, then decided against it. I didn’t need a shot of whiskey to do this. Harvey Glump may have been a tool, but he was dead. No sense in putting his wife through any more heartache. Maybe Glump was having a bad day when we saw him. Maybe a bad year. I shouldn’t judge. He’d meet his maker, good or evil, and get back what he gave. The fact remained: I needed money. They needed an obit. Time for a new approach.

  Stick with the script. Include the basics: name, age, surviving family members, and details of the service.

  Harvey Glump was a walking, breathing person—a good start, I thought. Then my fingers flew across the keys writing stuff about a guy I never knew. After inserting some details about his family, and his businesses I’d finished. That ought to do it. Where’s the next one? I was ready for more. Show me the money!

  CHAPTER 12

  Garrett walked in with lunch. Good thing I didn’t scream out loud or try to jump up on the desk. I smiled, made a mental note to ask for more obit work and got ready for lunch.

  We laid out our sandwiches and split a bag of chips. Garrett told me it was some kind of tuna with peppers and I turned up my nose. There was no way I was going to eat it, except I was really hungry, and I didn’t want to insult the guy who provided the meal. So, I picked up one of the triangles bursting with tuna, mayo and peppers, and nibbled on the end. It was surprisingly good.

  While we ate, Garrett told me about his history with the pathologist we were meeting at the Coroner’s office.

  “I met Tess in college. We
both wanted to work in medicine. But we’d been raised around family businesses. The expectation was for us to follow our parents’ footsteps—I’d become a Funeral Director, and Tess was supposed to become a Pharmacist. Only Tess had other ideas.” He paused to take a bite.

  “What happened?”

  “Tess and her family had a falling out when she informed them of her interest in Forensics. Her father planned to have her take over a small chain of independent pharmacies when he retired, and if she went into Forensics, she couldn’t take over and he couldn’t retire on schedule. He got mad. Apparently, mad enough he stopped funding school.”

  Garrett had a faraway look in his eyes for a moment. “We were dating at the time, so I offered to let her move in with me while she sorted out her family issues. Things got serious. Then Tess took a job to help pay for school. The problem was her employer was a mobster. I asked her to quit. Tess insisted it was legal, and refused.”

  Whoever the mob guy was, and whatever work he had Tess doing must have been pretty bad if Garrett insisted she stop. They broke up over it. I could tell she meant a lot to him, and the way things ended was rough. This meeting could get messy.

  We talked it over. Since we didn’t want their past to cause problems, we decided to take this approach: Garrett would explain that I brought Chloe’s case to him, and I’d explain the reasons I did. We’d ask questions about the exam Tess performed as politely as possible. If I had trouble, Garrett could back me up and diffuse Tess, if needed. He didn’t think she’d react as badly to me asking questions as a concerned friend, as she might react if he came out and accused her of missing something important. We agreed to the strategy then cleaned up our sandwich wrappers and drinks before we left.

  The atmosphere was so dense sweat beaded up on my skin as soon as we walked outside. Thankfully, Garrett’s Maserati was right outside. He opened my door and let me in before he walked around and got in the driver’s seat. He was polite and sweet as well as handsome, and I liked that he opened doors for me.

  The new car smell, and the rumble of the engine followed by the blast of A/C made me want to stay there all day. Sitting next to Garrett didn’t hurt either. His strong hands steered through turns and I watched his sharp facial expressions when one guy tried to cut us off. All of it changed as we came to a stop outside the Coroner’s Office. He looked glum.

  Our plan to finesse information out of Tess better work. The sooner we got out of here, the better.

  We checked in at the front and were issued Visitor IDs. We swiped the badges under a red scanner until the light turned green, and we were cleared. I followed Garrett through a turnstile and down a corridor. He looked at me and tried to smile as we approached the conference room. I smiled back and hoped for the best.

  Garrett knocked, even though the door was open. A woman in her thirties sat behind a desk eyeing a monitor. She finished typing something, clicked the screen and turned her attention to us. When she stood I noticed she was a couple inches taller than me, with tan skin and striking brown eyes. She wore a grey power suit, which looked mostly business-like. But I wondered about the revealing blouse and black stilettos. Her rich, warm perfume floated near us. The twisted up hair, dangling earrings and expensive manicure looked out of place at the morgue. Was this all a seductive show for Garrett? She extended her hand and let it linger in his. “It’s been a while, Garrett.” She looked perfect.

  “Sure has.” He responded with quick words and one firm shake before he broke free.

  “And this is?” She turned and looked me over.

  “Mattie.” I shook her hand.

  “Hello, Mattie. You can call me Tess. Would you like to see our research library?”

  “Maybe another time.” We needed to get to the point and get out.

  “I like to offer it as a courtesy, although not many people take me up on it. Usually it’s limited to students interested in forensics. Anyway, we’ve got some remodeling projects going on, so there’s not a whole lot you can see.” She signaled us to sit. “Garrett tells me you are looking into a friend’s death. I’m sorry for your loss. How can I help?”

  It was weird to be in the room with both of them, knowing personal details about their relationship. It was also awkward because Garrett had already asked Tess about Chloe, but he wasn’t satisfied with the answers he got, so we were here to investigate. He sat stiffly and stayed quiet while we discussed Chloe.

  “I wonder if you can help us answer some questions about the way she died.” I used my polite voice.

  “I’ll do my best,” Tess said, and offered a genuine smile. “Why don’t you tell me a little bit more about your friend?" She appeared sympathetic to my case even though I was a stranger. Perhaps, she was doing this as a favor for an old flame, or she could have had other reasons, it didn’t matter. This was our chance to find out more about the way Chloe was killed.

  “Well, she lived in the area for several years. We went to school together and she just started her law career.”

  Tess leaned forward and I got a closer look at her face. Her complexion looked nearly perfect—uniformly tan, slight blush on the cheeks, and deep red lips. Either she was gifted with good looks, or she worked very hard to look polished for our meeting. I could see how Garrett could have been attracted to her. I studied the woman he’d once loved, took a heavy breath, and explained Chloe’s situation.

  “When my friend was found,” I did my best to sound informational, “there was a bottle of prescription pills near her. Her mother told me it was a recent script written to treat anxiety. As far as I know, someone at the scene had my friend transported here, so the cause of death could be determined. She was examined, and her death was ruled a suicide.”

  I noticed a change in her expression when I made the last statement. It was slight, but easy for me to spot since I was analyzing her so closely. I’m sure Tess had seen a few cases like this before, but I couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about right then. She paused before she spoke.

  “When I spoke with Garrett,” she glanced at him when she said his name. “I told him I conducted the examination on your friend. I noted she was young and healthy. By our accounts, the evidence indicated your friend ingested a number of pills and died as a result.”

  I needed to know more. “I understand, but what about—”

  “What about the bruises?” Garrett broke his silence.

  “They looked old, and the police noted she’d been in an altercation with her boyfriend a week prior.” Tess sounded pretty sure.

  “Ex-boyfriend,” I added.

  “What about the scratches? And what about the needle mark? Why weren’t they noted in her file, Tess?” Garrett asked the questions I hoped we wouldn’t have to ask.

  “Listed in my notes, but they didn’t make the final report,” Tess answered.

  “Why not?”

  “Because they weren’t direct contributors to her death.”

  “But why did you choose to leave them out of the report?” Garrett sounded upset.

  “Look, obviously the girl was into something more. Drugs are more common for people in high-stress jobs.”

  “Drugs?” I asked in disbelief.

  “The needle mark on the neck is typical in addicts who want to hide their drug use.”

  “But, Chloe didn’t use drugs. She had nothing to hide,” I insisted.

  “The police report indicated Chloe was an abuser. She had prescriptions for several anti-anxiety and depression meds over the past couple years. The needle mark may have been her new way to get high, but the facts were clear—she overdosed on the pills.

  “The facts?” My anger flared. “Chloe wasn’t a druggie, and there is no way she did this to herself. No way!”

  “Looks like you left out some facts,” Garrett told Tess. “It seems to be a regular occurrence with you these days.”

  “This has nothing to do with my past mistakes, Garrett.” Tess fidgeted. She was definitely uncomfortable. “Besi
des, I told you over the phone it was a cut and dry case. The report Detective Marlucci gave me backs it up.”

  Tess got beet red, like she was upset or said something she didn’t mean. She immediately fired back at me. “Your friend, Chloe, took enough pills to put down a horse, I didn’t think it was necessary to smear the girl’s reputation any further.”

  It must have been what Garrett wanted to hear because he softened. “I just thought you might have gotten caught up in something.”

  “Chloe had her problems, but she would not have given up like this. You have to believe me!” I pleaded with Tess, but I really wanted Garrett to believe me and help me find the truth.

  “Garrett,” Tess ignored me and reached for his hand. “I’m past it, now. Ruggiano was a long time ago. Please don’t hold it against me any more.” She squeezed his hand and he let her.

  Garrett stood, so we all stood. He walked over to her and took her hands in his again.

  “I’m sorry, Tess.” Garrett said it like he’d hurt his best friend, or lover. I wanted to barf. In fact, I contemplated launching my partially digested tuna all over the both of them. Why was he apologizing anyway? She was the one accusing my dead friend of being a drug user, which was insane.

  “I understand. We had a great time together, but we didn’t exactly end on the best of terms.” It was clear she was using their past against him.

  This was why I came—why he wanted me to be here. I did the best I could to keep it together and press her for more information.

  “We appreciate your discretion Tess,” I said in my most annoyed voice laced with sweetness, “but in the interest of truth, it would really help us if you shared your notes.” Garrett told me at lunch this was what he really needed to get out of this meeting. I guess he knew exactly what he was doing by bringing me here.

  “I’d love to, but I can’t share them at this time. Perhaps, I can run them by your office Garrett?” She batted her eyes and started to stroke his hands.

  No. Way. No way! Give us the exam notes now, or else! I wanted to yell at her, but I took a breath instead, because I was about to lose it.