by Craig Hurren
“You were married once but not anymore.” she broke her silent study.
Alan was taken aback. He hadn’t spoken of his wife since his final therapy session and didn’t want to now but he felt so disarmed and magnetically drawn to this woman.
“She died a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry. Do you miss her?”
“Every day. Does that sound emotionally stunted? I went to therapy afterwards and the psychiatrist said I needed to finish the grieving process and move on.”
“Psychologist.” She said matter-of-factly.
“Pardon?”
“Psychiatrists are medical doctors who treat sick people and may or may not do counseling. Psychologists may or may not be doctors who counsel healthy people with unhealthy thoughts or feelings. Since you can’t be a detective if you have a mental illness, I’m assuming it was a psychologist.”
Alan found that his jaw had dropped leaving his mouth slightly agape. He realized how this must have made him look and quickly closed it.
“Wow, you’re full of surprises! Why do you know so much about psychiatrists and psychologists?”
“Because I am one… A psychologist, I mean.”
“You’re a psychologist?!” Alan looked incredulous. “Why do you work here?”
“Ah, the sixty four thousand dollar question. I’m currently completing my Ph.D, and working in this place allows me to gather data for my dissertation while providing an income to pay my rent.”
“I’m sorry but you’ve caught me unaware. The only word that springs to mind is… wow!”
“That’s OK; most people wouldn’t have a clue either.”
“I knew there was something different about you.” Alan said.
“What do you mean?”
“Not in a bad way. I mean I’ve never met anyone like you before. You’re very refreshing.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Speaking of refreshing, let’s take a refreshing walk up to the party.”
“On one condition… No psychoanalyzing please.”
“I promise.” she soothed.
The pair left the restaurant for the short walk up the road to the party. Alan was so enthralled with Holly’s natural beauty and stimulating conversation as they walked, he didn’t even think about his car. The party was in a large but comfortable English style pub, complete with dart boards, pool tables and brass ornaments. They took a seat together at the bar and talked the night away. Several of Holly’s coworkers tried to interrupt them to play pool or darts but they were both so absorbed with each other’s company they politely refused all invitations.
Gradually, some party-goers went home and others moved on to a nightclub until, by one in the morning, only one or two stragglers were left. Neither Alan nor Holly wanted the night to end but both had to work the next day so they agreed to meet for dinner at seven the following night; one of her two nights a week off work. Alan offered to take her home in a taxi but she said it was only two blocks to her condominium so he took her hand in his and they walked. At the front entrance of her building, they said goodnight and simultaneously leaned toward each other to kiss. Alan’s mind flooded with thoughts as the excitement of the night’s events cut through his normally composed demeanor and replaced his usual thoughts of work and sadness with feelings of hope and possibility. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes and she gave him one last brief, tender kiss before turning to go inside.
Arriving at his car, Alan barely remembered the walk back. He hadn’t felt this way in so many years and thought about pinching himself to be sure - but if this was a dream, he didn’t want to wake. Holly was so absorbing, so captivating that Alan’s one drink at the party had lasted all night and driving home posed no problem. He unlocked his apartment, took off his coat and turned on the television. Sleep would not come easily tonight so he decided to catch up on the day’s news.
As the screen came to life, Alan changed to his favorite news station and watched one or two local news items before the anchor dramatically announced a major coup for the network. They had managed to get hold of some security footage from the hallway in the Capitol Building where Congressman Taylor and Matt Lewis were murdered. He watched enthralled as the scene was broadcast to the nation. The sudden change in Officer Damien Fraser’s demeanor after the two victims entered the meeting room was very evident and the ensuing events played out like something from an episode of The Twilight Zone.
Despite the surreal nature of the event, Alan’s years of experience forced his well trained eyes to watch for details as only a skilled detective could. As the uniformed officers arrived at the scene to handcuff George Geoffrey, the newscaster announced that the footage obviously cleared the second officer of wrongdoing but the veteran detective wasn’t listening. His jaw suddenly dropped and the object of his shock was not the crime itself or the announcer’s revelation but in the background of the security footage, beyond the crime scene. Alan almost didn’t believe his own eyes but what they saw was undeniable. There, at the top of the stairs, was a small man in an overcoat and hat – the same overcoat and hat that Alan had spent hours in the crime lab trying to see past to identify the man beneath. The footage was not totally clear and the face was not visible but Alan knew in his gut that this was the same man who stood behind Helen Benson in the elevator the night she died. His instincts were tingling and his experience told him that no matter how difficult it might prove to be, he needed to examine that footage.
Chapter 7
“Boss, we’ve got to get hold of that footage.” Alan said.
Lieutenant Walker, still rubbing his eyes and yawning, was irritated at being woken from a sound sleep but also knew that Alan wouldn’t call at this time without good reason.
“I hear you but what the hell! It’s midnight and we gotta go through proper channels. As soon as I get to the office, I’ll get our Divisional Commander to put in a call with the Deputy Chief of the US Capitol Police but considering what just happened, they’ve got bigger fish to fry. Let’s face it; a suspicious circumstances case in Columbus takes a back seat to the assassination of a freaking US congressman! And this happened right in their own backyard so I doubt we’ll be getting a response anytime soon.”
“I realize that but that footage may show a connection between the assassination and Helen Benson’s death. Surely they could have an assistant make a copy for us. I saw it on the news for God’s sake – apparently it’s not that difficult to… Damn - why didn’t I think of that sooner?! I’ll call the news station and get a copy from them. As long as the footage is digital, it won’t lose any quality.”
“Now that’s the Beach I know. So get to it and let me get back to sleep!” The lieutenant hung up the phone and settled back into his pillow.
“What did Alan want honey?” his wife asked sleepily.
“Nothing babe; it’s just Beach being Beach. Go back to sleep.”
“Don’t be like that Tom. Remember what it was like before he came along.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know but don’t tell him that.”
“You really think he doesn’t know how good he is? You should show him more appreciation.”
“Aw geeze honey, I just wanna go back to sleep.”
“Alright but we should have him around for dinner soon. Maybe we can invite my cousin Sally too. That poor man is so lonely; it’s not natural for him to be on his own for so long.”
Lieutenant Walker turned his eyes up in defeat and tried not to think about his wife’s attempts at match-making.
“Yes dear.” was all he could say as he pondered the awkwardness to come.
Alan examined his options. Washington was four hundred and twenty miles away so even with his police lights flashing the whole way, it would be at least a twelve hour round trip and he had to be sharp for his meeting at Blue Sky Biotech the next day. It was too late to fly and even if it wasn’t, Lieutenant Walker would not be happy if he did, so he was left with one choice. His eyes turned to the ceiling
as he sighed heavily and resigned himself to his task. Dialing the number into his phone, he knew full well what to expect from this call.
“This is Marissa Wilson.” came the painfully chirpy voice at the other end.
“Marissa; it’s Alan.” he replied sheepishly.
“Wow, Detective Alan Beach calling me at midnight. This should be good! What can I do for you?” she spoke with the anticipation of a spider watching its prey coming close to her web.
Despite knowing what to expect, Alan groaned inwardly at the thought of what he was getting himself into. Marissa was a very ambitious television news reporter from Boston. She had been highly successful at breaking stories before any other reporter and it was due in no small part, to her fascination with Beach and the development of a symbiotic relationship over the years. This relationship became so beneficial to her career that she had transferred to Columbus when Alan did, despite having to go to a much smaller network affiliate. Aside from allowing the reporter to maintain her status as a scoop queen, the transfer came with a promotion to Segment Producer and part time News Presenter, which increased her authority and autonomy as well. The relationship had begun with small favors back and forth and became a full blown quid pro quo situation, which Alan tried to avoid whenever possible. Unfortunately, despite his disdain for her on a personal level, she had proven very useful on a number of cases so he had continued to give her information before other reporters when appropriate.
“I need a favor.”
“Of course you do. Why else would you call me - and at this time of night too. Must be something really juicy.”
Trying to downplay things so she didn’t think she had the upper hand, Alan replied, “Not so juicy Marissa. In fact, I nearly didn’t call but I think you can speed something up for me a bit. Your network released some footage from the assassination in the Capitol Building and I need to get a look at it.”
“Now Alan; don’t be coy. We’re talking about the assassination of a senior United States congressman – if that’s not juicy, I don’t know what is.”
“You would be right except I’m not interested in the congressman. There’s something else in the footage that may relate to another case I’m working. I can’t tell you about it yet but it may put a hole in someone’s alibi. It’s really not a big deal but you’d be saving me some time.” Alan said, hopeful that he had downplayed the situation as much as possible.
“Hmmm… OK, since it’s you, I’ll get the footage sent over on our network link but I want first dibs on whatever you’re up to – and if I find out this is more important than you’re letting on, I’ll be very disappointed Alan.” she said in mock menace.
“Have I ever lied to you?”
“Does that include white lies?”
“Come on Marissa; we both get what we want out of this relationship so let’s not pretend.”
“Mostly true but I still want to continue what we started in the stairwell in Boston.”
“That’s not going to happen. Let’s keep this professional.”
Alan knew she would bring up the incident but it annoyed him anyway. Years earlier, not long after his wife died, Marissa’s fascination for Beach led to her making a pass at him when they were meeting alone in the stairwell at Police Headquarters to exchange information on a case. He was in a vulnerable state at the time and it took a moment for reality to hit and to realize the folly involved in such a tryst. He had no romantic feelings for her at all but he missed his wife and the advance had been so unexpected that he came to his senses just in time to stop her hand from slipping into his pants. She was quite attractive in her own way but Alan knew her personality defects and her mercenary attitude would make for a very difficult relationship. Besides; he just wasn’t ready at the time and since then, she had revealed more and more of her self-serving nature – she was definitely not his type.
“Oh come on; I don’t see what the big deal is - it’s just sex after all.”
“It’s not just sex and you know it. It’s a conquest for you and I’m not going to let things get out of balance.”
“OK, OK, have it your way spoilsport. I should get the feed at about seven in the morning. Do you want me to burn it to a disc?”
“Yes please, and send it to Larry at the crime lab.”
“Alright but don’t forget; you owe me.”
Alan wanted to put her in her place and point out how much her career had benefited from the relationship but there was no point prolonging the conversation. “I owe you a small one.”
“We’ll see about that Detective Beach.” she said. “Anyway, I’ll have the disc sent to the crime lab by about noon tomorrow. I expect you to keep me in the loop. Goodnight.”
Satisfied that he had saved himself a lot of time while hiding the true importance of the footage from Marissa, Alan showered and went to bed. He needed to rest and be fresh for the big day ahead but found his mind drifting back to Holly as schoolboy excitement flooded in to take over his thoughts until sleep came and changed them to dreams.
Alan woke and had breakfast then pulled out his notes to refresh his mind on Helen’s team of coworkers. Not that he was any kind of authority but it seemed to him a strange mix of specialties. What kind of technology would require Helen’s expertise, combined with that of an advanced computer programmer, a biochemical engineer, a mechanical engineer who specialized in drug delivery systems, and the revered and multi-disciplined Professor Linus Gelling? Alan could only hope that they were forthcoming enough for him to make some sense of the situation or he would be left with the security footage as his only lead. He had signed the confidentiality agreement and was an officer of the court but Tom Finch, the head of Blue Sky’s legal department, was very protective toward their intellectual property and the detective did not expect an easy time.
Alan’s satellite navigation spoke in a clear, instructive tone, “You have reached your destination.”
He looked up at the very interesting example of modern architecture that was Blue Sky Biotech’s headquarters. It was designed to complement the natural surrounds while presenting an air of technological advancement, and the architect had certainly earned his commission. Alan didn’t much care for modern architectural style but this building was genuinely attractive. He parked in the visitors’ car park and walked to the dark tinted glass front doors. Entering the building, he noticed a conspicuous absence of security personnel. There were a multitude of small black plastic bubbles concealing cameras in the ceiling throughout the lobby but no uniformed security staff to be seen. Approaching the reception desk, he presented his detective’s shield and announced himself to the receptionist.
“Good morning Detective Beach. You’re a few minutes early so please have a seat.” She motioned to an inviting set of two opposing sofas with a glass coffee table between them. “Please make yourself comfortable. Would you like a coffee while you wait?”
“I like your style miss. A coffee would be great - thank you.”
The friendly but professional woman looked to be in her late twenties and possessed an elegant, European beauty and warm smile. She touched an icon on the face of her computer screen. “Your coffee will be here in a moment detective. I’ll notify Mr. Finch of your arrival.”
Alan was impressed by the welcome he’d received and the obviously advanced technologies employed by the company. He sat on the sofa facing the front entrance and wondered how much these marvelous pieces of furniture must have cost. Their comfort and finish were far beyond anything he’d experienced before and a far cry from what the waiting room at the police station in Columbus had to offer. As promised, his coffee arrived promptly and he couldn’t help admire the presentation. A very unusually sculpted cup sat atop an elongated saucer with a small dish built in, big enough for two small imported Italian cookies. Alongside was a matching cream and sugar set and beautifully designed teaspoon. He added some cream, put the cup to his mouth and was instantly captivated by the aroma and flavor of this exquisite
blend. So taken with the coffee, he sampled a cookie and it too, far exceeded expectations. Alan was lost in the superb refreshments until a voice pulled him back from cloud nine.
“Good afternoon Detective Beach.”
Alan looked at his watch. Indeed it was after noon; almost ten minutes had passed since he sat down, though it seemed like no time at all. “Mr. Finch?”
“That’s right.”
Alan stood to shake hands with the head of Blue Sky’s legal department. Thomas Finch was very well dressed in a tailor-made suit and expensive Italian shoes, much as Alan had anticipated for a highly paid corporate lawyer but his manner was much more pleasant than expected. He seemed genuinely concerned and eager to assist Alan however he could.
“Once again detective, we are all deeply saddened by Dr. Benson’s passing and will do whatever we can to assist you in your investigation. Before we proceed however, I’m sorry but I do need to reiterate your obligations under the confidentiality agreement which you signed and returned to me.”
“The terms are fully understood Mr. Finch. My lips are sealed.”
“I understand why your attitude may be somewhat flippant toward this legality but I hope you understand that in our business, a leaked secret could cost us millions or even billions of dollars in revenue.”
“I think I understand but what exactly is it that you do here?”
“Predominantly, we conduct original research and development of novel medical treatments. Once patented, these therapies are usually offered for sale to major pharmaceutical or other healthcare companies but some of the technologies are retained for production in house as well.”
“So what’s the difference between a biotech company and a pharmaceutical company?”
“Well, the lines have become blurred in recent years but I’ll give you the basic definitions. Shall we walk to the lab and I’ll explain on the way?”
