All The Dead Girls

by Tim Kizer

  Marilyn nodded.

  Freedom was near! This ordeal was about to end!

  “The police won’t bother helping you with this,” went on Warner. “What are you going to tell them? I didn't beat you, I didn’t steal from you, I didn't threaten you. You won’t even be able to prove we met. There are no witnesses, are there? In any case, the police can only harm Frank. As you just told me, he killed Kelly, am I right? I'm going to release you, and I hope you’ll justify my trust. Don’t tell anything to Frank, or police, or friends, or anybody else, do you understand?”

  “Yes, I’ll keep my mouth shut. I won’t tell anything to anyone. You are a reasonable man, Peter.”

  “Yes, I am a very reasonable man. All I want is find Kelly’s body and bury it. It’s the least I can do for her. I consider it my duty to give Kelly a proper burial. I think you’ll agree it’s not a crazy idea. I'm not planning revenge on anybody. Revenge is childish.”

  “Yes, Peter. Revenge is childish. I trust you. I’ll keep everything secret.”

  Warner smiled and silently removed the handcuffs from Marilyn’s wrist and the steering wheel.

  “Here is the plan,” he said as he shoved the handcuffs in his pants pocket. “You will ask Frank where he hid Kelly’s body. I'll call you in a couple of days. Be very careful when you ask him about the body; don’t push it, don’t pressure him. Frank is a shrewd guy. If you sound phony, he’s going to catch it.” Warner started the car. “Do you want me to give you a ride to the hotel or to drop you off here?”

  He had said she had four days to get the information from Frank, so it would be dumb of him to kill her today, right? He should be harmless for at least four days. And he had removed the handcuffs, hadn’t he?

  “I’ll ride with you,” answered Marilyn.

  “Good. I'm glad you trust me. Don't worry, I’m not going to change my mind halfway to the hotel. I won't strangle you like Frank did Kelly.”

  The Explorer rolled onto the road and started accelerating.

  “If I were you I wouldn't try to find out who I am,” said Warner. “It's absolutely useless for you to know that.”

  “I won’t. I don't care who you are.”

  “Wonderful. How do you plan to get the information from Frank? Have you learned how to work him?”

  Marilyn, what are you going to tell Mister Warner in a couple of days when he calls you? Will your make him angry? Or do you hope that Frank can protect you?

  “I'll figure it out. He won’t suspect a thing. He trusts me blindly.”

  “Okay.” Warner grinned. “Just so you know, I’m not judging Frank. He’s not the first and not the last guy to kill his wife. And looking at you, I understand why he got tired of Kelly. If you were my mistress, I would have probably whacked my wife, too.”

  Chapter 11.

  TRAINS

  1.

  On the way home from his meeting with Bluth, Frank thought about Josephine’s latest phone call. Last night she had asked him if he had recalled anything else since they had last spoken. Frank had discerned faint undertones of desperation in her voice, which, however, might have just been the fruit of his imagination. He did not want to overanalyze that conversation since it had been a call from an unrelated person in whom he had absolutely no interest. That’s right, Josephine wasn’t his relative any longer now that Kelly had gotten out of the picture, and he had no desire to think about her or the undertones in her voice.

  What did she tell him on the phone?

  No, he didn’t forget their little chat because it had taken place last night, not in one of the years devoured by amnesia. In fact, every major detail of it was still fresh in his mind.

  She said, “Frank, you have to remember everything Kelly told you before she went missing.”

  And before that she asked, “Did you think about seeing a psychiatrist? I will pay for it if money is the issue.”

  “Josephine, it's not about money,” he replied wearily. “There's just no point in it.”

  “The psychiatrist will help you restore your memories. They have special methods for that.”

  There was something strange about her voice. What was it?

  “Josephine, let's talk about it later. I’m not feeling well, and I have no idea how long it will last.” He was lying, but he saw no other way to stop her from mentioning a psychiatrist again. Didn’t she understand she was imposing on him? Why the hell did she keep nagging an unfortunate accountant who had just begun recovering after a horrible car crash?

  “Did you remember anything?” she asked. “Anything at all?”

  What was strange about her voice?

  He breathed a heavy sigh and pondered if he should simply hang up and end the suffering.

  “No,” he answered. He rejected the idea of hanging up. He decided to do it later when he concluded that the conversation had dragged for too long. “I’ve been having headaches this whole time.”

  Then she said something about psychiatrists and their special methods, said he was the only one who could help them find Kelly. And at last she asked, “Frank, do you want to find Kelly?” Frank sensed Josephine had a more strongly worded version of this question, which she was probably saving for later.

  Naturally, he assured her that he did, that it was the only thing he dreamt about. He also added, “I am afraid I’ll be unable to remember anything useful in the next several weeks because my skull was cracked just a month ago and the recovery will take a while. That was a bad car crash, Josephine. You’ve seen the pictures, haven’t you?”

  “That’s why you need the help of a specialist, Frank. If it's about money, Ron and I will pay. It's not too late to find her. I know she is still alive. I want you to remember everything you heard or saw in the last two weeks of April. Even if it has nothing to do with Kelly—we need to know it.”

  “Did you talk to her friends? Friends sometimes are better informed than husbands.”

  “We already spoke to them. She didn’t have a lot of friends in the first place. They know nothing we can use. How bad are your headaches, Frank?”

  Frank was amazed at Josephine’s unabashedness with which she steered the conversation back to where she wanted it to go. He wanted to scream with rage. This bitch was going to give him a heart attack if she didn’t shut up.

  “It’s not just headaches,” he said. “I got bruises all over my body in the crash. You may not see them anymore, but the pain still comes back.”

  It was definitely time to hang up. He had decided to do it in three minutes. And he had followed this plan.

  So what was that strange thing that he had noticed in her voice last night?

  You ought to be recalling your fishing trips with your nephews Jake and Tommy, Frank! You are not a masochist, are you? Stop thinking about Kelly and her stupid family. Remember Marilyn Hancock, remember how you first met her, okay? Where did you first meet her?

  No, he hadn’t remembered that yet, probably because he hadn’t tried hard enough.

  What was strange about Josephine's voice?

  Are you starting this crap again, pal? Can you please cut it out already? Nobody cares about the strangeness in Josephine’s voice. You are so good at forgetting things; why the hell can’t you forget that damn conversation?

  “Frank, if I were you I would see a psychiatrist,” Josephine said in the end. “You will remember Kelly much quicker.”

  Frank, concentrate on your fishing trips with your nephews! Remember Marilyn! Throw Josephine out of your mind, dump this garbage now!

  Her last words were: ‘You must remember Kelly, Frank.’

  What was strange about her voice?

  You just love torturing yourself, don’t you?

  No, she used different words. She said, “You'd better remember Kelly.”

  ‘You'd better remember Kelly,’ that was the exact phrase. And the strange thing about her voice was mistrust. He sensed icy mistrust in Josephine’s tone, and he didn't like it. Josephine didn't believe a single wo
rd he had said, a damn single word! Either he had sounded too unconvincing, or she had been predisposed to be skeptical of anything he told her.

  2.

  The first thing Frank did when he arrived home was drink half a can of cold beer. His mood immediately improved one notch.

  He still couldn’t stop thinking about Josephine’s latest call.

  You see, she did not believe him. And now Frank wouldn’t be surprised if Josephine even doubted his amnesia. Actually, he would be surprised if she didn’t. Should it worry him? Should he be concerned that Josephine didn't believe he had forgotten Kelly and couldn't remember Kelly’s plans on the day of her disappearance? Come to think of it, this was a chilling idea since it implied that he remembered Kelly and the circumstances of her vanishing. Josephine must believe that he knew the place where Kelly had planned to be and the names of people she had been supposed to see on the day of her disappearance. He knew it all but wouldn’t share the information for some sinister reason.

  Maybe this bitch imagined that he was faking the amnesia not for fun but because he’d killed Kelly. He’d had similar suspicions earlier but attached no importance to them, hadn’t he? Now was the time to discuss them.

  Josephine had gotten so crazy as to consider him Kelly’s killer? Was it possible? Was she reasonable enough to understand he hadn’t murdered her stepsister?

  Frank sighed wearily. He should focus on remembering Marilyn Hancock.

  Remember Marilyn, Frank! Don't fall under Josephine’s influence!

  He didn't care about Josephine. Let her wallow in her paranoia and consider him the killer, let her think he was a crossdresser or whatever else her twisted mind could come up with, he didn’t give a damn. She was harmless; let her lie on a couch, gnash her teeth, and pierce his eyes with a toothpick on his photos, it wouldn’t ruin his sleep. Her wailing wouldn’t make him go bald or cause impotence.

  How about her friends? Or her relatives? You do remember she has a brother, right? And a husband? And a cousin? And probably a bunch of other relatives you’ve never heard of?

  Okay, she might have a big family, good for her. But who said she could instigate them to go vigilante on him?

  You don’t think she is capable of it?

  Well, should he be afraid of that? Was he afraid of that? Was it possible that fear had been the reason why his amnesia had relaxed its clutch and released some of the lost memories?

  Have you had these thoughts in the back of your mind this whole time, buddy? Are you afraid of Josephine Buckhaus and her clan? That’s a doozy.

  No, that was bullshit. Frank Fowler wasn’t going to be afraid of these morons. He knew one thing: he hadn't killed Kelly, he was innocent. If Josephine started to hassle him with these ludicrous accusations, he’d simply tell her, “I'm innocent, bitch!” Frank Fowler was not scared of her. Frank hadn’t survived a terrible car crash to tremble with fear. And now, if you’d excuse him, he would drink another can of beer. Then another one. And then probably one more. Later tonight, he might go to the bar or play poker with his friends.

  Frank lazily scratched his chest, smiled, and then opened a new can of Heineken. He liked his current way of thinking.

  Josephine must be taking him for an idiot and a coward she could intimidate by merely showing him a knife.

  She underestimated him. When they barged in here with guns, he would demonstrate them his shooting skills. He would shoot them all dead, and law would be on his side!

  Josephine would definitely bring her whole band of idiots: her brother, her husband, and her cousin—and he would have to dispatch them all.

  Oh, Josie. You're provoking a mellow accountant to wreak havoc on you and your family. And all because of your irrepressible love for your stepsister.

  Toledo, Ohio. Kelly traveled to Toledo early last year. She went there to see her lover, right?

  Hey, buddy, you just recalled Toledo. Was she really meeting her lover there? Is it possible that she had a relative in Toledo?

  Frank dialed Marilyn's number once more, listened to the phone ringing for half a minute, hung up, and headed for the bathroom. His face felt sweaty and hot.

  Toledo. Try a little harder, pal; forget Michael Bluth for a while and dive into the depths of your memory, towards the beginning of last year, where Kelly's lover is hidden. Somewhere there's a clue that will lead you to your missing wife.

  Toledo, Ohio. It was rather far from here, at least three hundred miles. Good thing more memories had begun to ooze out. Toledo. The ticket. She had bought a ticket to Toledo. A train ticket. Damn, he remembered this, too! She bought a train ticket to Toledo, where she was planning to meet her lover, right? Did her lover live in Toledo? It was possible, sure; long distance relationships do exist. So her lover lived in Toledo.

  No, buddy, it's bullshit. Why would Kelly have a lover living three hundred miles away? Three hundred miles is not a distance conducive for regular dates.

  But it was a fact—she bought a train ticket to Toledo in February of last year. Well, now he remembered the approximate date of that journey—February of last year. Three hundred miles is a roughly six-hour trip by train. Why didn't she fly by plane? Or it was actually a plane ticket and you simply got confused. It must be damn easy for you to get confused in your current condition. So far you can be sure about one thing—she went to Toledo. You have recalled Toledo and April of last year. In April of last year you found out that Kelly had been hiding something from you; you suspected something was wrong.

  What the hell was she doing in Toledo?

  She bought a return ticket—a train ticket. From Toledo to Buffalo she traveled by train; and how about her trip from Buffalo to Toledo? Did she take a train? Or did she fly there by plane?

  Kelly claimed she was going to Syracuse to see her college friend Cindy, but the truth was she had bought the return ticket from Toledo to Buffalo, which meant she had lied to him. Typically, when a woman lies about her out-of-town outings, chances are she is cheating on her husband. She did say she wanted to meet her college friend in Syracuse, he had remembered that. She did bother to explain her absence—a female friend from her college days, whom she hadn’t seen in years. Actually, there were more than one trip. She had left Buffalo for a couple of days at least five times by April of last year. Was it twice a month? Yes, something like that. Every other week she would go to Syracuse to hang out with her friend, but now it is clear what kind of friends she was meeting.

  When did she first hook up with this guy? Well, let’s see... When was the first time she had announced she was going to Syracuse? February of last year? Prior to that, Kelly had not been big on traveling alone out of Buffalo: she visited her parents every once in a while or occasionally went to New York to do some shopping (at least that was how he remembered it now). She was very busy with Kathy and had little time for extracurricular activities that excluded her daughter.

  What if she had more than one lover—have you thought about that possibility, buddy? What if she was so deviant that she looked for sex partners on trains? She would sleep with those men in her or their compartments, give them her phone number, and then meet them again and again. Or she could prefer one night stands. A new man every two weeks. Blowjob galore on steel wheels. Sperm splashed everywhere. Did it make your hair stand on end yet, pal? Do you realize whom you slept with this whole time?

  Frank shivered. Every two weeks Kelly had sex with a new guy. It was hard to imagine, but it was still in the realm of the possible. Kelly probably bought all seats in a compartment in order to have her own personal sex lair. She could have been in bed with a man within half an hour after boarding the train—it wouldn’t take a hot young woman very long to seduce a typical straight guy. What a surreal idea, right? And kind of funny, too. Kelly must have had dozens of dicks in her mouth by the time she disappeared. Dozens of them.

  Toledo. Train tickets. Visits to the friend in Syracuse.

  Once he was done washing his face, Frank returned to the liv
ing room. He sent Marilyn a text message to call him when she had a chance.

  The train tickets fell out of Kelly’s bag when he accidentally knocked it from the table. That's how he found those tickets—the bag landed on the floor, opened, and spilled some of its contents. He didn’t deliberately rummage through the bag in search of something incriminating, he wasn’t that distrustful back then. But he was watching out for Kelly as he examined the tickets. And he might have taken a good long look at the inside of the bag just in case there were other curious things in it.

  You saw two train tickets: one to Toledo and one back from Toledo.

  Or was it four tickets?

  Four? Why four? Something went wrong in your head, pal. It only takes two tickets for a person to get to and back from Toledo, unless it is one of those scenic train vacations your mother loved. That day, you saw two train tickets in Kelly’s bag. Kelly went to Toledo to see her lover.

  What if her lover didn’t live in Toledo? What if they had sex on the train? Maybe he traveled to Toledo for business and Kelly decided to accompany him for the ride. Perhaps that’s what they call combining business with pleasure. Dates on a train. Romantic and somewhat kinky.

  Frank looked at the wall clock. Half past two. He checked his text message inbox; Marilyn hadn’t replied yet. Had she left her cell-phone at home?

  What did he do after finding out that Kelly went to Toledo instead of Syracuse? Did he begin to spy on her? Hired a private investigator? Made a scene?

  “Honey, I demand to know what these tickets mean. I thought your friend lives in Syracuse. What the hell were you doing in Toledo? Why would anyone voluntarily go to Toledo?”

  No, there was no scene. He acted in a more sophisticated way. He elected to collect more information. Collect proof.

  Yeah, it's time for you to recall how you gathered the proof, buddy. How did you go about it?

  The doorbell rang. Frank tiptoed to the window, peered through the blinds, and made a wry face: it was Josephine.

  3.