by E. J. Larson
“I'd like to see what's in store for me.”
Tom rang a little bell, whereupon a female colleague came up behind him and looked at him hurriedly. “Linda, can you take over for a few minutes? I'll give our guest a tour of the facility.”
The addressed nodded and took his place with the same friendly smile. Tom pressed a button behind the counter and the buzzer of the small gate sounded. “Just go right through. You can hand me your bag if you like. Linda will keep an eye on it.”
He also accepted this offer without further hesitation. If it was always like this at this gym, maybe it was worth the money, he thought. A membership cost four times as much as at the other gym in his neighborhood. For this amount according to the website, he got access to an indoor climbing park and a swimming pool with a counter-current system. The polite tone as a bonus made working out a real highlight of the day. At least, that's what he hoped for when he was already sacrificing his life savings for it. One step closer to Burton, two steps closer to a defined figure.
Those were two decidedly attractive birds he could kill with that one stone. So why not? Tom explained the merits of this and that to him, but Milo only listened with half an ear. His eyes scanned the people they passed. He tried to memorize who was in the premises and with whom. Maybe he'd get a clue, recognize an unexpected connection, or something else of significance was happening.
“Is there anything else in particular that interests you here? Anything else I can explain to you?” Tom wanted to know, following his gaze around the open room.
“No, everything's fine,” Milo explained. He much preferred to look around on his own for a while before Tom became skeptical after all. “It looks really impressive. Let's get the deal done and then I want to do a little something for myself.”
He clapped his hands and marveled. The sound produced no reverberation despite the open space and high ceilings. Only now did he notice how quiet it was in the busy rooms. In a normal gym, one would hear constant chatter and inadvertently catch almost every word of the bystanders. But here it was almost as quiet as in a library, but no one made a special effort for that.
“How come it's so quiet in here?” he wanted to know.
“Sound-absorbing ceilings.” Tom pointed up to the honeycombed elements that adorned countless holes. “Incredibly effective. You can also have business conversations here when you meet a partner. No one you can't see will be able to overhear.”
Of course, that wasn't so conducive to his request. It meant he had to actively seek out conversation with the other members if he wanted to get information. And that, in turn, meant he had to bring himself to talk to strangers. He wasn't anti-social by any means, but the people here were a very different breed than the ones he usually interacted with. That would be a challenge, he thought, sighing softly.
They swiftly took care of contract matters in the reception area upstream. Milo decided on a model that could be cancelled monthly. In case this thing didn't work out, he didn't want to commit to a whole year right away. That way, the single month was more expensive, but the flexibility was worth it to him.
“Would you like to make an appointment right now for your first personal training session?” Tom asked in conclusion. Sensing Milo's hesitation, he lowered his voice confidentially. “That's already included in our monthly rate. A trainer will regularly help you optimize your workout and reach your goals. We want you to be the best you can be with us.”
Actually, he had no clue what he was doing here at all. How did a spaghetti-armed journalist attract as little attention as possible here?
“Yeah, I guess that's a good idea,” he admitted.
“Sienna would be free in half an hour,” Tom replied after glancing at the calendar.
Time was running out for Milo. He'd promised Jasper he'd be home promptly at 9 p.m. with something to eat, because they were both in for another night of SteamPower 3. Jasper downloaded the latest version of the game in his absence, which Carter's developers at Daedalus had completed during the day.
“This is going to take a while, isn't it?” Milo asked skeptically.
“An initial training session usually lasts an hour.”
“No, then it won't be today.”
He shook his head to emphasize his point, and got himself an appointment on Sunday. He wouldn't make it here again before then. He wouldn't be in the shape of his life then either. Though, because he'd be on a business trip down south for the start of the weekend, but Jasper needed him today for once. They took turns at the controller, each preparing notes to send to the developers, because not everything they noticed appeared in a system report. They had been through this process several evenings now, and by now they were a well-rehearsed team. Sometimes only single colors were mixed up, which made a strange impression, but were not recognized as a bug. It wasn't something that would spoil the fun for a normal player. But to be honest if a meadow suddenly turned pink, it made people in front of the screens smile and users would talk.
“Is there anything I need to be aware of when I go swimming with you guys?”
He didn't want to make any mistakes on his first day. Maybe today was like the women's bath day and he burst into the middle of it.
“No, not really,” Tom returned, already giving him his winning smile again. “But we don't have a coach in that area today.”
A few minutes later he was standing in his dark blue swimming shorts with a towel under his arm behind the frosted glass panes. To his amazement, one of the three large pools was occupied by a surfer riding waves on his board.
Milo paused and watched the athletic guy on the water. He hadn't thought about bathing slippers when he packed his gym bag that morning. The fine nubs of the non-slip bottom pressed to the soles of his feet. The surfer expertly floated the board to the edge of the pool and dismounted. With a fluffy towel bearing the gym's logo, he ran it through his wet hair.
“Hi,” he greeted, and Milo realized he was staring at him.
“Um, hi,” he replied with an apologetic smile. “I didn't mean to stare at you, I was just …"
“You want a go?” the surfer offered him his board. The other was about his age.
“I'd love to, but I'm sure I'll unpack myself in the process.”
“No problem, the water's warm. Just make sure you don't bang on the edge. That's a little painful.” He turned around and showed Milo a bruise on his back. “I got a little unlucky there.”
“Ouch,” Milo returned. He could vividly imagine what the edge of the pelvis was doing to the back of his head. “You going to explain how it works?”
“Sure, I will. I'm Ethan, by the way.” The surfer extended his hand to him. Milo chimed in and told him his name as well. Under the guidance of his new acquaintance, he climbed death-defyingly onto the board and took on the countercurrent. Everything felt unstable beneath him and he stumbled. His posture still left something to be desired, but to his own surprise he managed to stay standing for a few seconds before splashing into the water for the first time.
“Good jump. But be careful if you ever practice on your own. Here in the pool, no one will notice if you pass out in the water,” Ethan warned him forcefully.
“Don't worry, I'll be fine,” Milo returned with feigned neutrality. Bravely, he climbed back onto the board and tried again. But he was aware that he would never get on a board alone. As long as Ethan was there, he would surely call for help if something happened.
12. Tyler
HE HEAVED THE last package up the narrow stairs. Once again he had had to borrow a van. This time, however, it didn't belong to a car rental company, but was a service provided by the furniture store. He was allowed to use for an hour after his shopping. So he had to hurry to get all stuff up to the apartment. Groaning, he set the box down on one of the scraps of cardboard. All of these he had scattered around the room to maneuver the furniture so as not to make scratches in the floor.
Tyler now had an inexpensive bed, an equally inexpe
nsive desk, and a makeshift wardrobe. Unfortunately, all three pieces of furniture still needed to be assembled, but he would make time for that later. First he had to return the car before the gift became an expensive luxury after all.
His reserves were almost gone and he didn't get his first paycheck until the middle of next month. Still, he wanted to buy a local newspaper and read it with a fresh coffee somewhere in the park. He was doing well on a shoestring budget and the outdoors were free. As long as his money was enough for rent and something to eat, he was content. He didn't go out expensively, nor did he have any other vices that he had to save from his mouth. Anything he didn't need, he gave to others who needed it more, like the homeless man outside his new apartment. Surely the twenty dollars had been used up long ago. How long could you get by on that kind of money?
One last look at the packed furniture and the moving boxes that stood around his sleeping bag assured him he had to clean this up. He couldn't sleep here another night under these conditions. He had to set up the furniture and put the boxes away before he went to bed that night. But that should be manageable. Maybe even Simon would feel like helping him when he came from work. A second pair of hands certainly didn't hurt.
Through the now somewhat more familiar streets of the neighborhood, he steered the van more routinely than he had a few days ago. Without any problems he found his way back to the parking lot of the furniture store. It was located at the edge of the freeway. He returned the key and got a receipt for the transaction. He had to make his way back on foot, just as he had gotten there a few hours ago.
First he marched back along the main streets towards his apartment until he found a shop that offered takeaway coffee, sandwiches and newspapers. He ordered a bit of everything and asked the young man at the counter for the best route. The latter gave him a look that was probably meant to impugn his intelligence and pointed his finger vaguely in a direction. Tyler shrugged and shook his head. Well, don't then.
He grabbed his cup, the bag with the sandwich and tucked the Fairfield Chronicle under his arm. Somehow he felt like a cross between an old man and a secret agent. Of course, he could have used the online edition of the paper, but he got a feel for the city best with paper in his hands. What was important enough in this city to find its way onto the front page?
His secret hope of meeting the stranger from the day he moved in again dwindled with every hour he spent walking the streets and not meeting her. Even now he kept his eyes open for her. The neon signs and all the gimmicky advertising of the stores to the right and left of the roadway banished large portions of his attention. But a woman like her just had to catch his eye.
He followed the approximate direction the barista had pointed until he actually stood in front of a tall fence that separated him from the park. A walking path ran along it. Surely there was an entrance somewhere nearby. All he had to do was follow the path. Tall bushes blocked his view, but at least they provided generous shade. The houses in this fringe were as well-kept as the one he'd moved into. The row of buildings he looked up to even had small balconies overlooking the park, framed by wrought-iron bars.
A spot of light on the pavement already announced that he had been right with his guess. Some distance away was an entrance to the grounds. Although the sun blazed down from the sky, the heat was much more bearable in the green. Manicured lawns, lush flowering beds, and healthy trees made the park shine. In the middle of it all was a spacious lake, with walking paths leading around it at various intervals. Some took detours through certain areas of the grounds, as a map at the entrance indicated. Tyler decided to find a bench by the lake to read his newspaper. He let his eyes wander into the distance and involuntarily breathed deeper and calmer. The solitude that nature gave him was so different from the one he felt in the company of people.
He took a seat on a free bench, put his half-empty coffee mug down next to him and opened the newspaper. Already on the front page he noticed an article from the national news. The Martini case was now making headlines in Fairfield. How wonderful, he thought grimly. He felt as if this case haunted him no matter how far he ran from it.
He devoted a few minutes to the written lines. Apparently the trial had finally been scheduled to begin. The investigations, involving some of the highest ranking members of Detroit society, would undoubtedly cause a ruckus in court as well. By now Tyler was sure that the prosecution and the judge were somehow involved in the case as well. By the time of the indictment, investigating officers had suffered so many setbacks that Tyler had temporarily lost faith in the legal system.
The futility of his commitment to justice frustrated him. It had cost him his usual life. He had had to leave his home because the earth he walked on had burned. His friends had distanced themselves from him. That had also ended the longest and formerly best friendship for Tyler. He didn't need anyone who didn't have his back in a crisis. As a result, his grief at the loss of his previous life was contained. There was nothing for him to return to. Detroit no longer had anything to offer him.
He folded the newspaper and set it aside. His gaze slid over the lake, which lay quietly in its urban oasis. In his pants, the smartphone stirred. He stumbled. It had been ages since anyone had called him. Hopefully it wasn't his mother who wanted to shower him with renewed accusations.
No, an unknown number out of Detroit. That couldn't be good.
“Tyler Ducharme,” he replied skeptically.
“Ducharme? Where are you?” the caller with the barking voice wanted to know from him.
“Who's there?” He preferred not to tell a stranger from Detroit where he was. He wanted to avoid bad things from his past following him. After all, it was enough that the news haunted him.
“Ruthridge, lead prosecutor in the Martini case. Our letter to you was returned as undeliverable. Where are you hiding?”
He was not comfortable telling the man anything about his whereabouts. The uneasy feeling that the prosecution and the judge might be deeper in the matter than advisable just wouldn't leave him.
“I moved because I didn't have a chance in Detroit anymore thanks to the case.”
“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” the man feigned. “Still, you'll have to file your information with the court. You've been subpoenaed. See that you get your ass over here for that appointment.”
The way the man spoke to him did not inspire much confidence in the state and its servants. In retrospect, he regretted answering the phone at all. There were no more calls from Detroit that he wanted to speak to. On the other hand, the man didn't want to lull him into excessive security either. If someone had wanted to elicit his new address, it would be far easier with a newspaper subscription or some other gift. He mumbled something that his interlocutor took as agreement.
“Now be a good boy and give my secretary your new address so we can forward the summons.”Before Tyler could object, the gruff lawyer had hung up and he found himself on hold.
“Hello, are you there?” asked a delicate voice that was so unlike the man. Not even to a woman he could imagine next to the man.
He cleared his throat.
“Yes, I'm still here, but I'm not sure I should really give you my address.”
“Was he as charming as the ugliest cat in the world again?” she asked with a pleasant lightness.
“I wouldn't have put it that way, but that's about right,” he admitted. Slowly his mood improved and the uneasy feeling faded. She would have been his tool of choice if he had wanted to get at someone's address.
“Don't worry about it. He's not exactly a ray of sunshine, and the big fall is putting a lot of strain on him. You can't imagine what it's like here just now. A dovecote is a holiday paradise by comparison.”
In his mind's eye he saw a cute blonde in her early twenties. He didn't know that the secretaries of the public prosecutor's office were so talkative from his time in the north. She had to be new there, otherwise the older assistants would have long since driven this chatter out of
her.
“Yes, I can vividly imagine that. It's one of the reasons I left town a few days ago.”
“Oh, yes, your address,” she recalled the reason for the conversation. “I'm ready when you are.”
He told her his new address and flipped the newspaper back open on his lap to look for the trial opener. She repeated his details conscientiously.
“It's going to start in early December?” he asked when he found the relevant passage in the article.
“Yes, in December,” she confirmed. “All further information will be in the letter then.”
He politely said goodbye, slipped the smartphone back into his pocket and continued to carelessly flip through the newspaper. But he perceived nothing of what was written on the pages. His thoughts turned exclusively to the case that had ended his career. There was really nowhere to go but up for him in Fairfield. He took a deep breath and turned his gaze back to the lake to regain his composure.
The phone vibrated again. The display again showed an unknown number - this time with a Fairfield area code.
“Tyler Ducharme,” he repeated the greeting from a few minutes ago.
“Tyler, how great to reach you,” a powerful female voice fluted that he couldn't place at first. “I hope you've already arrived in Fairfield. Did you get through your move all right?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” he returned guardedly. In his head, he ran through who all knew about his move by now. After a few seconds, the face of the woman who had recruited him for the job in Fairfield appeared before him.
“I'm glad to hear that, really. Tell me, would you mind starting your duties tomorrow? We have a situation here that would greatly welcome your presence.”
The expression gave him pause.
Was that a request or a demand? Was “no” even an option? He didn't have much of a desire to start the job first thing tomorrow. He would rather treat himself to the next few days and the weekend to arrive in the city a bit.
