The Memory of All That

by Gibson, Nancy Smith

  Marnie’s anxiety increased when she heard violence was involved, and she began pacing as she trembled with apprehension.

  “No, I have no idea why Ms. Kelley would be calling my wife. Neither she nor I know Ms. Kelley. The name doesn’t ring a bell. Would it be possible for my wife and me to see the place where you found the paper with her name and phone number on it? Perhaps there is something else there I might recognize as having significance to the matter. Yes . . . yes, I have a pad and pen . . . go ahead.” David scribbled an address.

  “I’ve got it. I’d like to meet with this landlady. I have a picture of Boling, and I’d like to see if she recognizes him . . . if she’s seen him with Ms. Kelley.”

  When David got off the phone, he turned to Marnie. “Come sit down, and I’ll tell you what I found out.”

  She was shaking so hard when she sat down across the small table from him that he moved his chair closer to her and grasped her hands in his.

  “Shh. It’s going to be OK.” He tried to soothe her, but it did no good. “Why are you so upset? Are things coming back to you?”

  “Maybe. There’s something . . . I don’t know what. Oh, David, I’m so frightened!”

  “What of?”

  “That’s just it, I don’t know,” she squeezed his hands and held tight. “David, you told the detective you have a picture of Ray Boling. I don’t remember his name, but maybe seeing his picture would bring something back to me.”

  David reached into the open briefcase sitting on the table and drew out an employment form with a picture of a square-jawed, sandy-haired man, in his late thirties, and placed it in front of Marnie.

  She immediately cried out and shrank back against the chair.

  “You recognize him?” David said, excitedly. “I don’t know why I didn’t show you a picture before. That’s what you needed to start your memory working again!”

  “David, he’s evil! I don’t remember anything except I’m so scared of him. He made me . . . he made me . . .”

  “What? What did he make you do?”

  “I don’t remember, David,” she held her hands up to her spinning head. “I still don’t remember! I just know he wanted me to do something, and I was frightened and didn’t want to do it.”

  “Calm down, sweetheart. Calm down. It’s coming back to you,” he said in a composed voice. “Don’t be upset. It’s all working out now. It’ll be OK.”

  “But, David, you said there were signs of a struggle, and now she’s missing. What if . . . what if Ray . . . killed her? What if I’m involved in a murder? What if that’s the trauma that made me lose my memory?”

  Chapter 38

  David held her close, his arms sheltering her and his strong hands rubbing her back. His voice was deep and calm as he tried to alleviate her fears.

  “Whatever it is, I’ll be there with you, but I can’t imagine any circumstances in which you or Ray would kill someone. He’s a jerk, all right, and a thief, but not a murderer. And neither are you.” His hand touched her hair, brushing it back from her face. “Yes, you’ve done some irresponsible things, and you’ve been thoughtless about other people’s feelings, but that’s a long way from murder. Don’t let your imagination paint pictures that never happened.”

  Marnie drew back in the circle of his arms so she could see his face as she spoke. “But the detective said there were signs of violence, right? Something bad had to have happened. And seeing the picture of Ray, I know something happened in connection with him, something that made me frightened of him. I can’t remember what it was, I can’t even remember him, but I was frightened when I saw his face.”

  “The detective said there was no blood,” David said, “no sign anyone was injured, just a small table turned over, a lamp and some papers on the floor, things like that. Let’s not make more of it than it is. Detective Mendez said they are investigating it, but that there is nothing to make them believe Martha Kelley is dead. She may have had a fight with a boyfriend. On the other hand, she may have gone out of town with a friend—male or female.” David released her from his arms and stepped away. He reached for one of her hands, drawing her toward the bed.

  “Ray is out for number one, himself, and his main objective at this point is to sell the plans and prototype for a lot of money.” David sat down on the side of the bed and urged her down beside him. “He wouldn’t have done anything to jeopardize his chances for a big payoff. So that pretty much eliminates the chance he hurt or killed someone. He just wants to get away with the money without being caught, and committing assault or murder wouldn’t fit in those plans. Besides, I’ve always thought of Ray as a coward at heart. That’s why I don’t understand your being afraid of him. You’ve known him for a long time, even if you don’t remember it. If you were frightened of him, you would never have left town with him.”

  David’s words comforted Marnie. “I guess you’re right. I don’t know why I reacted so strongly. I think this whole memory loss thing is wearing on my nerves more than I thought.”

  “Losing your past would be harrowing on anyone. You have a right to be nervous and upset.”

  Marnie nodded her head in agreement, but she was determined to get ahold of her emotions. Nothing could be gained by losing control.

  “Let me call the landlady and see if we can meet with her.” David retrieved his cell phone from the table. “Maybe she can shed some light on this puzzle.”

  David called the phone number he had gotten from Detective Mendez and introduced himself as the husband of the woman whose name and phone number were found in Ms. Kelley’s apartment. He asked her if they could meet and try to figure out what happened and how his wife was involved.

  “Part of the problem, Mrs. Oberle, is that my wife recently suffered a severe trauma which left her with amnesia. She can’t remember anything that happened before a few weeks ago. We hope that if we can figure out what connection she has with Ms. Kelley and why Ms. Kelley called her, it will help bring back my wife’s memory. If it does, maybe we’ll know where Ms. Kelley went,” he explained, trying to simplify the complicated story.

  He wrote an address on the pad of paper. “We’ll be there within the hour. Thank you for seeing us.”

  The GPS in the rental car helped them easily find the address. The neighborhood was a modest one, filled with single-family homes. The front yards were mostly neatly raked sand or gravel. A few homeowners had obviously tried to maintain a small grass expanse, but in Phoenix’s climate, they had little success. Although yucca and cactus were the plants of choice, a few yards boasted small trees that gave minimal shade.

  Marnie watched closely as they drove through the city. As they neared their destination, she felt more certain she had been there before. The buildings along the streets they traveled resonated within her, as if she had seen them in the past. The houses were built of various materials and sat on small lots. Some were stucco, some wood, and some covered with siding. The neighborhood was older, but the area was clean and well kept.

  The closer they came to the Oberle home, the tighter Marnie’s nerves seemed to be stretched. Her heart was pounding so strongly it felt as if it would jump out of her chest. She knew without a doubt they were coming to the center of the mystery of her lost memory, and although she wanted her memory back and this uncertainty to be over, she was nervous and afraid of what she might find out.

  They pulled up in front of a stucco house, terra cotta in color. A long covered porch extended the full breadth of the home, which was larger than the other houses on the block. The yard was neat and clean, covered with small gravel. A fairly large tree shaded a good deal of area, and large blue pots sat on either side of the single step.

  Marnie looked at the house, and her head started spinning. “This looks familiar,” she told David. “I’ve been here before. I know I have.”

&nbs
p; They remained in the car while Marnie looked at the house and David watched Marnie. He finally spoke. “Anything else? Just that it looks familiar?”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s all for now. But my head is swimming. Something else is coming.”

  David went around and opened the car door. Marnie slid out; she had to cling to his arm to keep from stumbling. The whole world seemed to be revolving, as if she were in the center of a top that was spinning around her. With great effort, she cleared her vision and walked beside David to the porch. When they stepped into the shady space, they noticed two front doors, both painted cerulean blue—bright and welcoming. David guided her toward the nearest one.

  Above an old-fashioned doorbell button was a small piece of paper that read “R. Oberle.” David pushed the button then placed his hand over Marnie’s. She gripped his hand, trying to gather what reassurance she could from his touch. The things they were about to learn might devastate her, and no matter how unsettled their relationship was, he was her only hold to reality, however tenuous that might be.

  The woman who opened the door appeared to be in her fifties: gray-headed and plump, she looked like a picture of a perfect grandmother.

  Her eyes went to David as he introduced himself. “Mrs. Oberle, I’m David Barrett,” he said, “and this is my wife, Marnie.”

  When Mrs. Oberle looked at Marnie, her mouth fell open, and she grasped the doorframe for support. “Oh my God! Martha told me she had a twin sister, but I can’t believe how much you look like her.”

  Chapter 39

  “Twin?” Marnie sputtered as she clung harder to David’s arm. “I’m her twin?”

  “Oh, you poor thing!” Mrs. Oberle said. “I didn’t mean to shock you. Please, come in and sit down.” She held the door wide for them to enter. “I forgot you had lost your memory.”

  David helped Marnie inside. The feeling of being in the middle of a twirling top intensified until she rested and drank the glass of water Mrs. Oberle had given to her. “I think I’m OK now. Please continue.”

  “Your husband told me you didn’t have any memory of your past, but I didn’t realize it was so severe. I truly didn’t mean to shock you like that.”

  “That’s all right, Mrs. Oberle. You didn’t know. You see, I don’t even know what caused me to lose my memory. The doctor said it was some kind of trauma, but we don’t know, without me remembering the past, what it was. So I don’t even know if I knew before the amnesia that I have a twin sister. Would you tell me about her, please?”

  “She’s a lovely person—I’ll say that first off—a lovely person. A lady. And she’s had some bad things happen in her life. She looks just like you, or you look just like her, whichever way you want to put it.” Mrs. Oberle looked at Marnie and smiled. “I’ve known twins before like that. Once you get to know them, you can tell the difference, but at first it’s a real shock.

  “Martha started renting from me almost a year ago. You see, after my children were all grown and my husband passed away, I divided my house into two living spaces to have a little extra income. She rented the apartment.” She nodded toward the wall. “Has a good job, she does, and had good references, too.”

  “Tell us about Ms. Kelley going missing,” David said.

  “I didn’t realize she was missing at first. She travels with her job, so I didn’t think much about it,” replied Mrs. Oberle. She turned toward Marnie. “She’s a sales rep for a company that sells things to big hotels: furniture, sheets, towels, and all sorts of things they use. She travels all over the country doing that.”

  Turning back to David, she continued, “She came down with the flu, that bad kind that’s been going around. It knocked her for a loop, let me tell you. Put her flat in bed, not able to work a lick. She was pretty run-down before she took sick, so that’s probably why it hit her so hard. She was thin, and she said she didn’t sleep well. She worked hard, I’ll grant you that. It’s like she tried to work hard so she wouldn’t have time to think about anything else. When I didn’t see her up and around, I thought she had gone back to work and was just gone on one of her sales trips.

  “Are you saying that this is when she disappeared? She wasn’t gone on a sales trip?”

  “Yes. That’s what I’m trying to explain. She usually tells me when she’s leaving, but I thought she’d just forgotten this time, so I wasn’t worried at first.

  “But then the first of the month came, and the rent was due. Now I trust her to pay the rent—she’d never been late, not once—and I thought she’d pay it once she got back. But she didn’t come back. I started getting worried, and I got her rental application out of my file and looked up the number of the company she worked for and called them. I was thinking she might have fallen sick in some other city—maybe even been put in the hospital somewhere.

  “They said she hadn’t come back to work. Her boss said they were thinking she was still home, sick. That’s when I called the police. They came out and looked all over the apartment.”

  “The police detective called us,” David explained. “They found a slip of paper with my wife’s name and phone number on it and thought maybe she knew what had happened. Of course, the police didn’t know about them being sisters—twins at that.

  “But with my wife’s memory loss, she couldn’t tell them a thing. We came to Phoenix hoping something here would help her remember. It’s possible her memory loss and her sister’s disappearance are tied together somehow.”

  “My goodness!” the older woman exclaimed. She drew back and stared at Marnie.

  “I’d like to ask you something else,” David said, drawing a picture from his jacket pocket. “Have you ever seen this man around here—around Ms. Kelley?”

  Mrs. Oberle took the picture and studied it. “No, I can’t say as I’ve ever seen him before, but that don’t mean much. I’ve got a little sitting room in the back of the house where I spend most of my time. I don’t see anyone who comes and goes next door, but I don’t think she has much company. She’s a loner—except for her job, of course.” She handed the picture back. “I’ve never known her to date, or even to go out with a girlfriend. But, like I said, I don’t know everything that goes on. It’s not any of my business. I try not to be a nosy landlady.”

  “I wonder if we could look at her apartment,” David asked. “Maybe we’ll see something we recognize that would have no significance to the police.”

  “Well . . .” Mrs. Oberle paused to think about the request. “I guess as long as I stayed with you it’d be OK.” Her concern showed in her eyes. “Not that I think you’d take anything, but you’re strangers to me, after all, and I can’t just let strangers rummage around in her things. You understand?”

  “Certainly,” David reassured her. “I understand. It would perfectly fine for you to be with us. In fact, I would prefer it.”

  “Let me go get the key.”

  She disappeared down a hallway. While she was gone, David questioned Marnie.

  “Well? Does any of this seem familiar?”

  “Yes, it does! Mrs. Oberle seems familiar to me, and this house does, too. But if I came here and met my sister, if I met Mrs. Oberle, then why doesn’t she remember me?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you saw her from a distance, and she didn’t see you. Or maybe your sister has a picture of Mrs. Oberle in her apartment.”

  “She doesn’t remember seeing Ray, either.”

  “No, she doesn’t. But as she said, she doesn’t see who comes and goes at your sister’s.”

  The landlady returned, her house slippers slapping the tiled floor as she entered the room.

  “Found it! Sometimes I don’t put it back where I usually keep it. Then I have to hunt. I had it out for the police and didn’t put it back in the drawer of my desk, like I ought to have. Come on. Let’s go next door. Maybe s
omething you see will tell us where she went. I tell you, I’m plum worried about her. I hope nothing bad has happened.”

  They went out the front door and along the covered porch until they reached the other blue door. As Mrs. Oberle was fitting the key into the lock, Marnie asked, “Her first name, is it Martha?”

  The door swung open, and Mrs. Oberle stepped back to let them enter.

  “Yes, that was her first name all right, but she went by her nickname—Martie.”

  Chapter 40

  When she stepped inside the door to the apartment, she was bombarded with images and sounds, seen and heard only by her. It was as if dozens of movies were playing at once all around the room, along with radios blaring strange conversations with unfamiliar voices, none of which made any sense, and the room whirled around her. No! No! Don’t! Let go of me! There’s someone who wants to hurt me! They’re going to make me . . . make me . . . what? I’ve got to get away! I’ve got to get away from . . . . Terror threatened to take over. It took all of Marnie’s resistance to withstand its power.

  It was an ordinary room, small and furnished with a tan couch and an overstuffed side chair. A colorful afghan was tossed across the back of the couch, and a book lay on an end table. It looked, to Marnie, like a comfortable place to sit and read—not a scary place at all. Off to the side, through an arched doorway, was a dining room, although it looked as if it was being used as an office. The table held stacks of papers and file folders. A cup kept a supply of pens and pencils close at hand.