A Ripple in Time

by David Berardelli

  “Mr. Danner? I’m Brittany Sanderson. I’ve been sent by E&S to make sure you’ve got everything you need and that you’re being well taken care of…” She sent over a sort of embarrassed smile.

  The nurse had been right in her appraisal. This woman was truly a babe. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties and was close to six feet tall in her heels. She had one of those long-limbed, slender bodies that made her legs look like they went on forever. She wore a dark-blue business suit with a cream-colored blouse and carried a large black leather handbag with the strap resting on her left shoulder. She gave the appearance of a serious businesswoman, but her looks and her sweet lavender smell softened the overall picture.

  “I’m pleased to meet you.” I returned her smile. “And yes, they’re taking good care of me.”

  “First of all, Mr. Erikson told me to tell you how deeply sorry we are that this happened in the first place.”

  “You’re not responsible for this.” I winced at the sharp pain in my head.

  She took a step closer to the bed. “Are you okay? Should I get the nurse?”

  “No. I’ll be fine, thanks.”

  “Are you sure?” She looked worried.

  “I’m okay.”

  She waited a few moments, possibly to see if I’d pass out. When she decided it was all right to go on, she said, “Well, we still would like you to know how badly we feel about this. Mr. Erikson has already been in contact with the police and was assured that the matter will be handled as a top priority.”

  “That’s very nice of you, but it was just a mugging, and—“

  “It was inexcusable, and we’d like to make amends in whatever fashion we can. Mr. Erikson has already gotten with Mr. Crosley in Orlando and assured him that we’d take extra care of you.”

  “There was no need for you to do that…”

  “It’s just our way of trying to make this right. You’re very important to us, and we’d like to continue dealing with your company for many years to come.”

  “I assure you that what happened to me will have nothing whatsoever to do with our future dealings.”

  She smiled. “I’m very pleased to hear that, but I still find it appalling that this happened.”

  I shrugged. “There really isn’t much anyone can do about it now. I’m kind of pissed that a gang of street punks decided they wanted to relieve me of my wallet, cell phone and credit cards, but that sort of thing tends to happen these days. I guess I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It wasn’t your fault, and it certainly wasn’t anything your company should be responsible for.”

  Mindful of my suit, she sat down in the chair and crossed her legs. I was right; they did seem to go on forever.

  “It still shouldn’t have happened at all,” she said. “When we got a call from the police just a few hours ago—“

  “From whom?” Suddenly reminded of the main issue, I realized once again that I needed to know exactly what happened. There had to have been some way the people at E&S were told about all this so quickly.

  “The Police Department, of course.”

  “Obviously, but how would they know about you?”

  She gazed at me in silence. I’d apparently said something she hadn’t considered. “Well, they must’ve been told by someone that you’d been mugged, and—“

  “What I mean is, how did the cops know to get in touch with you, specifically?”

  She didn’t reply. She obviously had no idea what I was talking about.

  I decided to help her out. “No one else up here knows I’m here.”

  “No one at all?”

  “I don’t even know anyone here anymore. I haven’t kept tabs on anyone from the old neighborhood for the last twenty years.”

  “You’re not on Facebook?”

  “Business takes up of most of my time nowadays. My boss and secretary know I’ll be up here for two or three days, but other than that…“

  “That’s it, then.”

  “What’s it?”

  “Someone from Florida called and told them about your meeting.”

  “Who would do that? And how would they know what happened in the first place? I had no ID on me. Those punks robbed me. The paramedics had no idea who I am. Neither did the cops.”

  Her huge green eyes narrowed. “This is strange…”

  “Ya think?”

  “To say the least...”

  “Then you tell me what you think happened.”

  She gazed at me in silence. I could tell she was trying to make sense of all this. “I have no idea what happened. None of this makes any sense at all. If you’re right, and since those hooligans robbed you, then, yes, you had no ID on you anyone could use to figure out who you are. And since you were unconscious, the paramedics had no way of asking who you were or what happened.”

  “The cops might have lifted my prints when the paramedics were loading me into their van… But even if they did, how would they know to call you, specifically?”

  “I don’t know. I only know that you’re safe now. Once I can get you out of here, I’ll take you back to your hotel so you can rest. Mr. Erikson told me the meeting can be postponed for a couple of days so you can recover, if you wish.”

  “Did the hospital give you any idea when I’ll be able to be released?”

  “They said they need to do a few more tests to check and see just how severe your concussion was.”

  “Did they mention brain damage? Anything like that?”

  “They wouldn’t share that with me, but they did say they were optimistic about your condition.”

  “I guess that’s hospitalese for saying I’ve got a hard head.”

  She smiled. Then she got up. “I’m gonna go out there and see if I can get a few questions answered. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “While you’re out there, could I possibly borrow your cell phone? I’ve got to make a few calls to my credit card people and have them cancel my cards.”

  “Certainly.” She rummaged through her bag, found her cell and handed it to me. “I’ll be right back.”

  “I promise I won’t go anywhere.”

  She was smiling as she left the room.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Brittany came back about ten minutes later. She sat down in the chair beside my bed and waited patiently until I’d finished with my last call.

  About a minute later, my last transaction was completed. Suddenly tired, I gave Brittany back her cell and lay back on the pillow. “Did you find out anything?”

  “A few things,” she said.

  “Really? I didn’t think they’d confide in you.”

  “Neither did I. Since I’m not exactly family, they didn’t want to share much at first, so I took one of the nurses aside and explained the situation.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “Well, I was told by Mr. Erikson that you’re not married. This is true, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Never married.”

  She blinked. “Never?”

  “Nope.”

  “Problem?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Then please go on.”

  “I also told her that we have no details about your immediate family, that we feel responsible for this unfortunate incident happening and would consider it a personal favor if we were told a couple of details so we might be able to communicate with the police to help them solve this case as quickly as possible.”

  “Are you the public relations guy for E&S?” I was really impressed. She definitely sounded like someone who knew how to get things done.

  She smiled. “I handle all sorts of things for them. And by the way, I’m a gal.”

  “It was just a figure of speech.”

  “Good thing. If I’m not, I’ve been spending way too much money on my gynecologist.”

  I laughed.

  “You must be feeling better.”

  “It’s the company. So tell me what else you found out.”

  “As I s
aid, I found out a few things, but not nearly as much as I would have liked. The nurse was sympathetic. She told me someone called it in on the nine-one-one line and said you were the victim of a mugging and were lying unconscious in a Dodge Challenger on Liberty Avenue, about half a block east of Gino’s Bar & Grill.”

  This was incredible. The moment I thought about that, I realized that this kind of information could have only come from someone who knew exactly what was going on…

  And that meant, of course, the voice…

  “This was probably why you were brought in so quickly,” Brittany said.

  “Anything on the caller?”

  She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know anything about that, Mr. Danner. All I learned was how the paramedics found out about you and how you were brought in so quickly…“

  “Did the nurse happen to mention how your company was brought in on this?”

  A pause. “I’m afraid that wasn’t brought up, either...” She looked confused.

  This was making less and less sense, and I realized once again that I knew just as little about all this as I did before. I decided to ask her a few specific details and see if I could glean anything at all from them.

  “Okay…how did you find out about this?”

  “You mean the emergency itself?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Erikson got a call.”

  “Did he tell you what the caller said?”

  “Mr. Erikson said he was told by her that you’d been mugged and robbed. She also told him you were brought in to the hospital and—“

  “Her. You said her. And she.”

  “Mr. Erikson said the caller was definitely a woman.”

  “Did she identify herself?”

  “I don’t recall him saying anything about that…”

  “I thought the police and the hospital identified themselves when making such a call. And most 911 callers usually identify themselves as well.”

  “She probably mentioned the name of the hospital and then hung up.”

  “Probably?”

  Brittany shrugged. “How else would Mr. Erikson know to tell me where to come?”

  I didn’t reply.

  Brittany watched me in silence. I could tell something was on her mind. “Something’s still bothering you, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “A couple of things.”

  “Care to share?”

  “The woman who called and talked to your boss… She said what happened, when it happened, and where I was.”

  “Yes…”

  “But she didn’t say how she knew about you, did she?”

  “You mean E&S?”

  I nodded.

  Brittany went silent. She seemed to be weighing all this in her head. Then she frowned. “No. As far as I know, she didn’t.”

  ***

  After Brittany left, the doctor and a different nurse came in to tell me they wanted me to stay until the next morning for further observation to determine if I should be discharged. Since I was still exhausted and weak, the back of my head still aching, I wasn’t too eager to get up and start moving around, so I didn’t argue.

  At around three that afternoon, a uniformed cop came in to ask me questions about the mugging. His nametag said Randall, and the three stripes on his sleeves told me he was a Police Sergeant. He was around forty, about six-two and beefy, with wide shoulders and huge hands. The moment he came in, he stopped at the foot of the bed and removed his service cap to expose a large skull shaved down to thick dark stubble. A two-inch jagged pink scar extended from the center of his lined forehead to the inside of his right eyebrow. He shoved his cap into his left armpit and gave me a quick half-smile. “Mr. William Danner?”

  “That’s me.”

  He removed a thick leather-bound notepad from his jacket pocket and found a large black ballpoint pen in a different pocket. “I’m Sergeant Randall, and I’m with the Pittsburgh Police Department.”

  I wanted to tell him his blue uniform was a dead giveaway, but I didn’t want to sound like a smartass. I just nodded and smiled politely.

  “I was told you’re from out of town.”

  “Winter Park, Florida.”

  “And I suppose you’re visiting friends for the holidays?”

  “Actually, I’m here to conduct business with E&S SoftSystems, a software brokerage on Smithfield.”

  “Is this your first visit to Pittsburgh?”

  “I was born and raised here. I attended college at Carnegie-Mellon. I haven’t been back in more than twenty years.”

  He raised both thick black brows. The scar on his forehead turned into a miniature lightning bolt. “Whereabouts are you from?”

  “Gibsonia, actually.”

  He gave a brief hint of a smile. “Close enough. I’m from Richland Township.”

  “Small world.”

  He nodded and suddenly looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight while adjusting his collar. “Uh, sorry this happened. Can you give me some details about the perps that assaulted you?”

  “There were four of them.”

  He began scribbling. “Any guess on their ages?”

  “I’d say late teens.”

  “White? Black? Hispanic?”

  “It was dark, but I’m reasonably sure they were white. There might’ve been one Hispanic with them.”

  “They talk much?”

  “Some. I caught their names, but they’re probably just nicknames, or street names.”

  Another nod. “Lemme have ‘em.”

  I tried hard to remember every detail. “One was called Jake. There was also a Chopstick, Naddie, and Jonesie. And I believe they mentioned someone they called Bugger. They were going to take my rental to him to have it chopped up.”

  He kept scribbling. “You pay attention to details. Great work. We know about Bugger and who he deals with, so at least we’ve got somethin’…”

  “Any idea if this’ll help catch those assholes?”

  He stopped scribbling. “You’ve just given us a lot more than we knew before. It might not catch them or get your wallet and valuables back, but at least we’ve got enough details now to start building a case. By what you’ve just told me, I think we might have some idea where this gang hangs out, but street punks have a tendency to move around, especially after a big score, so it’ll be much harder to catch them. If I were you, I’d get with your credit card companies—“

  “I already did. They’re cancelled.”

  “Good deal. At least you’ve got that covered. Thieves usually try the ATMs right off to pull out as much cash as possible with the cards. If that doesn’t work, they’ll try selling them through a fence. We’ll work from the ATM cameras and any other security monitors we can find in the area and then get with our local CI’s to find out if they heard anything about stolen cards moving around during the last twenty-four or forty-eight hours. If we get a line on ‘em, we’ll grab ‘em. Other than that?” He shrugged.

  “I get it.”

  “Sorry, but that’s the best we can do.”

  “Those are the breaks, I guess.”

  “I wish I could give you some hope, but…”

  “I understand.”

  “At least you got away from the bastards. I was told out there that you’re recovering nicely. Hopefully, you’ll be okay when you leave here.”

  “E&S sent someone to take care of me.”

  “Great.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a card and handed it to me. His name and number were printed on it. “Give me a call in a few days. I’ll let you know what we’ve come up with. Will you be in town?”

  “Since all this happened, I’ll probably be here until after New Year’s.”

  “Good deal. I hope the rest of your trip turns out well. And sorry about what happened.” He put his cap back on, tipped it, then turned and marched out of the room.

  ***

  Not long after Sergeant Randall left, I discovered that I was really tired. Another nurse had brought
in a tray of food, but after glancing at it and realizing just how unappetizing it looked, I pushed it aside. Then I lay back and began to reflect on the last twenty-four hours.

  I wondered once again about the voice. Then it dawned on me that I hadn’t heard it since I’d blacked out in the Challenger. Shouldn’t I have heard it at least once after I’d regained consciousness? Shouldn’t it have stuck around just long enough to give me the opportunity to thank it for saving my ass?

  All of that made sense—at least, it did to me. But what if it wasn’t meant to? What if it had all been a fluke? A weird malfunction of the mind brought on by the trauma of being struck on the back of the skull?

  Maybe it hadn’t really happened at all. Maybe it had been nothing more than my imagination…

  Perhaps it really was brain damage. For all I knew, the sharp blow might have jarred something loose—something that had been able to fabricate the fantasy so realistically that I was totally convinced I was actually talking to some disembodied voice.

  Considering this a medical issue, I worried that the blow might have been severe enough to blank out all logical thought. It might have even caused temporary madness, triggering some aspect of my subconscious I’d never even known about or had reason to use before.

  I suddenly found that this thinking was making my head hurt.

  Was all this really necessary?

  Did I have to reason this predicament half to death to actually understand it?

  Why did I have to understand it at all? It wasn’t necessary, was it? The fact that it had happened should have been enough. I’d seen, heard, and read about enough strange things to conclude that everything in life didn’t necessarily have to be explained or understood.

  The simple fact was that I’d been mugged, hit over the head and dragged into an alley. I’d heard a voice. This voice—that of a woman—had helped me get away by maneuvering—in total darkness—down the hall in a condemned building, while four vicious young savages were a safe distance away, distracted by strange sounds they’d heard just as they were about to do me in…

  This was where my imagination theory rapidly fell to pieces.

  I’d never been in that alley before—how could I possibly know how to maneuver in a strange building—especially at night, and in total darkness? How would I know about the closet? The stuff gathered in its center? The sleeping bum in the hall? The hall itself?