The Girl Who Didn't Die--A Suspense Novel

by Tim Kizer

  He had probably said that name, but it didn’t interest Frank at the moment.

  By the way, he could make a fine detective, judging by the dexterity with which he had reconstructed the relationships within Kelly's family.

  “Lackawanna,” Frank said with a nod. “Was there Kelly’s blood in the car?”

  “No. They didn’t find any useful clues in her car.”

  “Where is it now?”

  “Probably in some police impound lot.” Josephine paused. “I’m afraid that’s all I know about her disappearance.” She sighed. She seemed upset that she knew nothing more.

  Frank knitted his brows. It looked like their rendezvous would be over sooner that he had expected. He had anticipated a rough flow of information from Josephine but got a pathetic trickle.

  “What do you think happened to Kelly?” he asked, his eyes still shut. “Do you have any theories?”

  “I can only speculate. There are so many possibilities. She could have been kidnapped. Or maybe she got into an accident, lost her memory just like you, and can’t find her way home.”

  So when did he first meet Kelly's sister, cousin, and brother? Did it happen before or after the wedding? By the way, he had yet to remember the wedding itself.

  Were they a close family? If you looked at Josephine, who had gone insane without Kelly, you would conclude they were pretty close to each other. When Kelly was born, Josephine was in her early teens. She must have been heavily involved in raising her baby sister. After years of changing Kelly’s diapers, wiping her butt, and rocking her to sleep, Josephine had become strongly attached to the little sis and now treated her like a daughter.

  This theory definitely explained Josephine’s hysteria over Kelly’s disappearance. You could see why she didn’t care how much time had passed since her sister had gone missing, why she didn’t give a damn about psycho killers, why she wouldn’t stop the search until Kelly returned home, dead or alive. Josephine was a great sister. Frank almost envied Kelly.

  Frank roused himself from his lethargy. Had she just said “lost her memory just like you?” Just like him? Perfect, it meant that she believed he’d actually lost his memory.

  “What do police think?” he asked.

  “Kidnapped, killed in an accident, killed by a psycho, stuff like that. Also, one of them told me she could have run away with her lover, but I'm absolutely sure Kelly has no lover.”

  “Do you think it could have been a psycho?” Frank opened his eyes a crack and looked at the watch. 6:22. They could be done by half past six if Josephine had nothing else to add. “Or robbery gone wrong?”

  “It's certainly possible. However, I doubt it. Kelly is very cautious and vigilant. She stays away from bad neighborhoods. Besides, she can protect herself. And she’s a fast runner, too. She runs faster than you, Frank, as a matter of fact.”

  “I see.” Frank paused. “What else do you know about her disappearance?”

  Josephine plunged into her memories again, hoping she had missed something before.

  Frank was still unable to remember how he had first met Josephine, Albert, and Graham.

  You don’t seem upset about it, do you, buddy? Of course, you don’t! You’re glad about it! You shouldn't waste your time recalling all those unimportant events. Who are these people to you, Frank?

  Nobody.

  You’ve got to stop filling your head with useless information, Frank. Can Josephine and her clan affect your career in any manner? Can they give you a million dollars? Are they fun people to hang out with?

  Forget them, Frank. They can neither help you nor get in your way.

  Enjoy life, to hell with Kelly and her whole family. Start remembering the time you spent with your nephews. Remember when and where you went fishing with them.

  Yeah, to hell with Kelly! She was nothing more than a distant echo in a deep dark cave to him now.

  “I have very limited information about it, Frank,” she finally said. “You are her husband; you’re supposed to know more about her life than anyone else.”

  “What did I tell you about Kelly's disappearance? Did I say anything useful?”

  “Anything useful?” Josephine pulled a white handkerchief out of her jacket pocket and blotted her forehead. “You said you had no idea where she could have gone.”

  Maybe he should ask her about Albert? Ask her why they had garrisoned Al so close to his house? Al hadn’t abandoned his place just for the fun of it.

  “You called me the morning after Kelly had gone missing and asked if she was at our place,” Josephine continued. “I told you she wasn't. You said that you hadn’t seen her since the evening before.”

  “So the last time I saw her was the night of April twenty fourth?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did I tell you what time I came home that day?”

  “You said you had come home around six in the afternoon.”

  “Was Kelly home?”

  “Yes, she was. You said she had left the house around nine in the evening. It was a Friday night, so you thought she was going out with her friends.”

  “What else did I tell you?”

  “You told me that you’d had no marriage troubles, that you’d never argued with Kelly, that you were sure she wasn’t going to leave you.”

  “Did I talk to Kelly’s friends?”

  “Yes, you did, but none of them knew where Kelly was.”

  “When did I report her missing?”

  “On the morning of April twenty seventh. It was Monday. I drove you to the police station.”

  “Can you tell me what kind of person she is?” Frank almost said ‘was’ instead of ‘is’ but managed to avoid this treacherous slip of the tongue just in time.

  “Kelly’s a smart and caring person. Everyone loves her. And we miss her very much.”

  “I miss her, too.” Frank tried to sound as sincere as he could.

  Too bad, Kelly wasn’t smart enough to avoid getting murdered by a psycho.

  “You might know something that will lead us to her, and I want you to remember it. I know you can do it. I believe in you, Frank. We still have plenty of time; she’s only been missing for a couple of weeks. She is alive, and we'll find her.”

  Poor Kathy. Were seven months a long enough time to abandon all hope that she was still alive? Kathy wasn’t as strong and smart as Kelly; she was a little helpless three-year-old girl. Thank God, he had forgotten her. Thank God.

  “She loves you very much, Frank,” Josephine went on. “She didn't run away with some guy if that’s what you suspect. Something bad happened to her.”

  “I’ve never thought she was cheating on me.”

  “I want to make sure that you have no doubts about her honesty. She’s not playing games here, Frank. Her life is in danger.”

  Frank nodded and replied, “I realize that.”

  “Try to remember the week, or even two, before Kelly went missing. There must be some clues there.”

  Josephine began to sound like a broken record. How many more times was she going to ask him to get his memory back?

  Frank glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 6:34. He had fulfilled the purpose of inviting Josephine, so it was time to wrap things up. Josephine didn’t consider him an evil bastard, judging by her facial expression and tone.

  “I’m sure we’ll find her,” Frank said. “By the way, it looks like Albert has moved into my neighborhood.”

  He lowered his feet to the floor and sat up.

  Time to scram, Josephine.

  “I think he has. But it’s temporary,” Josephine replied. “Have you met him in the area?”

  There had been a miscalculation on Frank’s part since he had expected to see Josephine get a bit nervous after he’d hinted to her that he was onto their little plan. Her eyes didn’t become restless, and her face didn’t turn pale; Josephine remained calm as though he’d asked her if it had been raining yesterday.

  “Yes, he dropped by my house the other day.
” Frank peered at Josephine's face. No changes whatsoever; zero reaction.

  “He told me he’s working on some project here in Amherst. Al hates long commutes. Don’t we all?” Josephine flashed an optimistic smile. “So did our meeting help you? Did I give you a push?”

  Frank took the voice recorder and switched it off.

  “You gave me food for thought that could be the catalyst I’d mentioned before,” he said. “We might see some results in a few days. But you must know that it’s impossible to predict when memories will start coming back. It’s not an exact science. We’ll have to be patient.”

  Josephine rose, readjusted her nondescript teacher's skirt. She was beaming with satisfaction: she had performed her sibling duty and thus might have saved Kelly’s life today. She would sleep like a baby tonight, Frank thought.

  “Are you sure that’s the catalyst?” asked Josephine.

  “I'm sure.” Frank got up. “I will listen to this recording every day and eventually begin to remember things, bit by bit. That’s the basic idea. Thank you, Josephine, for coming here.”

  They stood in the middle of the room, in complete silence, staring at each other, for half a minute until Frank, in order to prompt Josephine to leave, said, “I'll call you when I remember anything new. You've been a great help to me, Josephine.”

  “You said it could take a few days, right?”

  “Hopefully, a few days. I can’t promise you anything.”

  Josephine’s face grew dim instantly; her resemblance of an old uptight teacher hit its peak.

  “We can't wait much longer, Frank. We have no time left. You must remember everything in a week. Two weeks at most. The end of May is our deadline.”

  The sharp sting of irritation pierced Frank's heart. If he hadn't been reluctant to destroy all the goodwill generated by his meeting with Josephine today, he would have definitely jabbed her in the jaw.

  “I will talk to my friend. He might come up with some ideas to speed things up,” he said. “I just want to tell you that we have to be realistic. You can’t fix amnesia overnight. There’s no quick solution, Josephine.”

  You sound like a professor, Frank. Good boy.

  “I understand that you can’t fix it overnight. But you have to try harder, Frank. Kelly could be dying as we speak, and we're just sitting here doing nothing.”

  “I’m going to listen to this recording twenty-four-seven. I’ll do my best, I promise you.”

  Josephine bent her left eyebrow and darted a curious glance at the recorder, which Frank was holding in front of her for a greater effect.

  “If you recall anything that can give my memory a push, please let me know immediately,” Frank said. “The more information, the better.”

  “Okay, I’ll do just that.”

  While maintaining a feeble smile, Frank walked Josephine to the front door and let her out of the house. Several seconds later, as soon as he saw Josephine's car pull away from the curb, he heaved a sigh of relief.

  He wondered if she was going to look up the definition of “catalyst” just to check whether he hadn’t made this word up.

  What if Josephine only pretended not to know what “catalyst” meant? It’s often an advantage to have your enemy underestimate you, and Josephine clearly didn’t view him as a comrade-in-arms.

  Frank eased into the armchair, settled back, and shut his eyes.

  Hopefully, this little exercise proved to Josephine that he was a good boy and she would get off his back. He couldn’t wait to cross Josephine and her family out of his life.

  Chapter 10.

  RELAXING

  1.

  Relax. Relax, Frank kept telling himself.

  Relax, buddy, nothing tragic has happened so far. Everything is fine.

  His landline phone had rung half an hour ago.

  “Hello, Frank,” said the man.

  Frank didn't like that voice. It sounded creepy. However, he was not very nervous after hearing those two words on the phone. He wondered if it was Albert.

  The caller was not Albert. It was another enemy of his.

  “Did you guess who’s calling?” asked the man.

  “No.” Frank decided to proceed with caution.

  How good your life would have been if you had always exercised caution, pal! Take the day you transported Kelly's body, for example.

  Say what? That’s bullshit. Kelly’s body? Nonsense!

  “No? Did you receive my—”

  Once he uttered the word ‘receive,’ it dawned upon Frank that it was the mysterious Bluth, whom he was beginning to forget. Four days of silence after he’d gotten the letter in the mail had made him think Bluth had moved on to more entertaining things.

  “—letters?”

  “What letters?” he asked, playing dumb.

  “My letters. The letters with my request.”

  “What letters?” He kept pretending to be obtuse. “What request?”

  “I know you have read them both. Cut this crap out, okay, bro?”

  Frank’s forehead perspired with anger. He could hardly resist the desire to toss the phone on the floor. He asked himself if he should keep mocking this clown, and the answer was: “Yes, of course.” He hadn't killed Kelly, so he didn’t give a damn about Bluth’s feelings or threats.

  “Who is it?” he asked in a calm voice. “What’s your name?”

  “Do you think it’s funny? Can you read? My name was in that letter.”

  “Go to hell,” he said and three seconds later hung up.

  He lay down on the sofa, chuckling. He regretted he hadn’t informed Bluth what he had done to his letter: that moron would have blown a gasket for sure!

  But his date with the sofa was quickly interrupted. The phone rang again, and he picked it up.

  “We got disconnected,” said Bluth. “Or did you hang up? You don't want to talk to me?”

  He had not killed Kelly. He was innocent. Bluth was harmless as far as his accusations were concerned. On the day of her disappearance, he had come home around six o’clock in the afternoon and twelve hours later started calling Kelly's relatives and friends. He was not a wife slayer.

  “You need me more than I need you, Frank. I know it and you know it, too,” said Bluth. “I have information about you and your wife.” After a pause, he added, “Your dead wife.”

  Frank cracked a smile, leisurely scratched his chest, and said, “Who are you? Do you want me to call the police? If I’m not mistaken, you're trying to blackmail me, correct?”

  “Actually, it’s me who should call the cops. I saw you taking your wife's body out of the house. You should thank me for not ratting you out, bro.”

  Bluth couldn’t have seen him murder Kelly, assuming that Kelly had been killed in the bathroom: there was opaque glass in the bathroom window. If Bluth had had supernatural hearing, he could have heard Kelly scream, but screams might mean a lot of things besides murder: a horror movie played loudly on TV or a dumbbell dropped on a foot, for example. The only activity a casual witness would have been able to observe was the body being moved out of the house.

  So, Bluth saw a car (Kelly’s car) leave your garage with a human-sized sack in the back. You believe that the psycho was behind the wheel. Sounds plausible, buddy.

  “I’m not going to thank you,” Frank said. “You're wasting my time, dude. Stop bugging me, okay?”

  “I'll take my story to the police,” Bluth said hurriedly. “I'll tell them you killed your wife. I’ll tell them I saw you take your wife's body out of the house. Both of us know what happened that day. We need to come to a mutually beneficial agreement, Frank.”

  “What do you want from me?” Frank asked himself if he should call Bluth an asshole. Funny idea.

  “I want you to lend me twenty thousand dollars. I’ll pay it back, I promise.” Bluth chuckled.

  Frank was not afraid of him. Who would listen to a degenerate who had no physical evidence to back up his claims? Talk is worthless.

  “A
re you going to declare that money on your tax return?” Frank smiled. “Why should I give you twenty thousand?”

  “Are you deaf? If you don’t pay, I’ll report you to the police. Listen, I feel like we’re going in circles here. Let’s do business already.”

  “I don't want to do business with you, Mister Bluth.”

  “Let's meet. I understand it's not something we should be discussing on the phone. Come to the Starbucks on Arbor in two hours. You know which Starbucks I’m talking about?”

  Frank had said he knew where it was. Then he had put the handset down gently. He hadn’t been irritated, he had been in control of himself.

  And now he was sitting on the couch, calm and collected, his legs crossed. He was thinking of going to Chili’s later tonight with Marilyn.

  Relax, buddy. What are you afraid of? What the hell are you afraid of?

  One and a half hours.

  What about one and a half hours? Are you really thinking about meeting Bluth? It’s crazy talk, buddy. You're not going anywhere! Bluth is insane, and if you are seriously considering seeing him, you're insane, too.

  How about the blood? Those stains in the bathroom—they must be blood, right?

  Frank opened a can of Coke and took several deep sips.

  The stains in the bathroom were Kelly's blood. That is a good reason to meet Bluth.

  No. The stains only proved that Kelly had been killed by some maniac. A psycho had snuck into the house—Kelly must have forgotten to lock the door—stabbed her to death, and taken the body to another place, probably to subject it to various perversions.

  And who was that maniac? Was it you, Frank?

  Frank shook the Coke can, letting the last drops of soda fall into his mouth, and slowly lowered the empty can on the armrest.

  He did not kill his wife.

  How can you be so sure if you don't remember anything from the last six years? The harsh fact is you can’t. After reading the letter, you didn’t turn pale with fear and shock, but how would you have looked at that moment if you had known the truth—if you had remembered this past April? Imagine it was you who killed your wife a month ago. Just imagine, it won't hurt you. The police have no proof, and they will never find it because you left no traces.