Having somewhat reassured himself, Barry continued with his search of the doctor’s office. On the top shelf of the desk were more papers and books: Experimental Transplants of Vital Organs; Blood Vessels & Surgery; Spinal Cord Injuries. Barry would hate to be a doctor. He’d miss reading an entertaining mystery novel.
He rifled through the drawers next, full of medical reports, articles, and papers written by the doctor. Some files were research about the shipping industry and how to flash-freeze and keep 500-pound tunas frozen in a ship’s holding tank. He didn’t understand why this information was here, but he took a mental note in case the information would come in handy later.
Some of the files held documentation and drawings similar to props used in a science fiction movie. There were drawings of metal cots rotated by a huge crank. The contraption was similar to a Ferris wheel, except the beds were longer. The drawings had human bodies on the metal cots and they looked frozen.
Barry didn’t understand. Rotating frozen bodies? What was the doctor into? Was this a scene from a science fiction movie, like the Mars Attacks! poster? He raised his glasses to his forehead to peer at the 8x10 drawing, eyes narrowing in concentration. Up close, Barry realized that what he was looking at wasn’t a drawing, but a photograph. Was somebody pulling the doctor’s leg and manipulated the photo using editing software?
He cocked his head when he heard a noise outside. He peeked through the blinds and saw an elderly woman wearing an apron walking up to the front porch. She had a cellphone to her ear and he heard her giving advice about dealing with teenagers. She was carrying a bucket full of cleaning supplies. The housekeeper?
She picked up a pot of geraniums and extracted a key. Barry was thankful he’d figured out the doc’s character a little bit and retrieved a key from under the mat rather than raise alarm by knowing there was another key.
He grabbed some of the files at random and placed them in his backpack, fingers fumbling. Barry had to hustle out. He couldn’t be a house burglar in a wheelchair, he reasoned, but he wasn’t fast on his two canes, either. He stepped out of the back-patio door and walked around the porch to the front. There was no way he would get out of here without the housekeeper noticing him, so he might as well approach her. He walked lop-sided and noisy on the whitewashed boards. As he walked closer, the housekeeper glanced up, startled.
“Oh, hello, dear. May I help you?”
“Hello,” Barry answered, acting flustered. “I’m here for the doctor?”
She smiled at him. “The doctor’s away on an important business trip and won’t be back until Saturday. Should I leave him a message?”
“N-no, it’s fine. I can leave him a voicemail. Uh, it’s about the latest news on the... uh... Handicapped Board, is all.”
The woman nodded. “Okay, dear. I’m sure he’d like to hear all about it. I’ll jot down a note for him.”
“No need. But I appreciate it, Ma’am.” Barry was careful as he stepped down to the concrete walkway. “Bye now,” he said hoping the housekeeper wouldn’t ask more questions. He could see the headlines now: “MD Man Who Walks with Canes Robs House While Housekeeper Watched.” Not something he wanted to be remembered for.
He walked through the front yard, biding his time so the housekeeper would disappear into the house and forget he was there. She continued her phone conversation as she did exactly that. After the front door shut behind her, Barry retrieved his wheelchair. He didn’t waste any time wheeling himself to his van on the next block. He wanted some time to study the information he’d put in his backpack, doubting the doctor would miss the documents and files from his cluttered office.
He mentally placed a checkmark next to item one on his list. Number 1: Gather evidence-check. Number 2: Blackmail. Number 3: Operation-a new body.
But what if Farkis refused to play by the rules, a voice inside his head asked.
“Kill.”
Chapter 17
Dumpster Graveyard - Oakland
After Joey rolled Jenny out of the hospital, and helped her into his truck, his cell rang. Kevin’s name popped up on the screen.
Joey ignored the call and ran around to the driver’s side and hopped in, grimacing. Jenny noticed and laid a hand on his leg.
“Are you still sore?”
“Yeah. I—”
His phone rang again and he brought it up to his ear. “Geez, Kevin, what are you blowing up my phone for? Can’t it wait?” he said, irritated. He listened for a minute and banged his palm against the steering wheel. “They did what!?”
The driver’s door groaned in protest as Joey shoved it open. He jumped out and began pacing and yelling into his cell.
Jenny leaned over to the driver’s side and hollered. “What? What’s going on, Joey?” She waited a few seconds for his reply, but Joey continued screaming expletives.
His hand gestures and pacing were abrupt, but eventually he stood still long enough to take a deep breath. “Okay,” he said into the phone. “Kevin, I want you to lock up the shop and go straight to the hospital.” He paused, listening. “Okay, damn it, go to the clinic. I’ll get back to you asap!” Joey pounded his fist a few times on the hood of the truck.
“Joey, please! Tell me what’s going on or else I’m getting out of this truck!” Since she had stitches in her shoulder, her arm in a sling, and feeling the heavy fog of painkillers, she knew she couldn’t get out of the truck without help. But she had determination when she needed it.
Joey jumped back into the truck, slamming the door closed. He was breathing hard, focusing on something in the distance through the windshield. Jenny’s eyes surveyed the lot too, but all she saw was a normal parking lot at a hospital. She turned back to Joey, placing a hand on his arm. He flinched a little, like he’d forgotten she was there.
She spoke in a subdued voice, trying to calm them both down. “Joey. Look at me.” Joey turned to her, and she saw his eyes had changed. They were sad, with dark circles under them. “Hon. Tell me.”
“Some guys went to the shop asking for me. They told Kevin to give me a message.”
“What?”
“To stay away from Warehouse Row and quit sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong… or else.”
Jenny gasped. “What is going on?” She brought a finger to her lips and gave them a nervous rub.
“Then... then they beat him up.”
Jenny grabbed Joey’s hand and squeezed. “Poor Kevin!”
Joey put his key in the ignition and turned it, revving up the motor.
“I’m taking you home, then I’m headed back to Oakland.”
“Babe, I want to do this with you.”
He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”
“An empty warehouse is too dangerous?”
“Jenny, you got shot, for God’s sake!”
Jenny sighed. “Listen, don’t be mad, but I kinda told Brett our problem.”
“Jenny! You knew I’d want to talk to him in private. He and Jim putting us into this situation is beyond uncool,” Joey said. He loved this girl, but she could be so stubborn sometimes.
“Don’t be mad,” Jenny said in a soft voice.
“When did you have time to call Brett?” He tried to keep his voice in control.
“I called him after you left my room. Before the detective came—”
“First of all, he was not a detective,” Joey said. “Didn’t you see his hand? The tattoo of the coiled snake and cross? The same hand, or one similar, with the same tat came through the window and gave Brett an envelope.”
“What envelope, Joey? What are you talking about?”
“Listen, there’s something going on in or around that warehouse, but—” Joey’s brain registered what Jenny had told him. “Wait a minute. You called Brett while we were at the hospital?” Joey’s hands turned white as he clenched them tightly.
“You were gone, and I wanted to get to the bottom of this for you—”
“And I can’t get us in, or figure this o
ut? Oh, I get it. I’m second-class.”
Jenny’s brows furrowed and she stared at Joey, her eyes large and sad. His stern profile screamed that he was upset with her.
“I’m going now,” he said, gripping the steering wheel. “If you insist you’re not going home, you need to come with me. You can stay in the truck.”
“I understand,” Jenny complied in a soft voice, sad she had betrayed her boyfriend.
Joey noticed the drugs Jenny had taken before they left the hospital were taking effect. Her eyelids drooped, and she leaned towards his shoulder. His voice became a little more tender and compassionate when he realized she was a woman who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. It wasn’t her fault he was a moron and hadn’t protected her like he should have. If his dad were still alive, he would’ve slapped him in the head for not protecting a woman.
“We’ll stay a safe distance from the warehouse, I promise. I want to see more so I can call it in or something.” Joey reached for Jenny’s hand, finding she had dozed off, her face relaxed. “I swear that son of a bitch will pay for roughing up my employee and threatening my girlfriend,” he said.
***
When Joey and Jenny arrived at Warehouse Row, there was a dirty, white, 90s-style van parked a block away.
Jenny frowned. “Didn’t we see this van earlier, when we arrived? I’ve seen it before.”
“I dunno, babe. All I remember seeing was dirt and gravel flying as a small sports car sped out of here, remember?”
“Oh, yeah, how can we forget?” Jenny said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “You remember a sports car speed out of here and, oh, yeah, your girlfriend got shot at!”
“Honey, not what I meant—”
“Oh, shush right now, please!” Jenny grabbed the binoculars off the dash and climbed out of Joey’s truck, slamming the door.
Joey noticed she stumbled and caught the door handle to steady herself. He sighed and grabbed the other set of binoculars. Even though she wore a sling and took medication several hours ago, Joey knew when Jenny was set on doing something, she did it.
After the threat on Kevin’s life, he wanted to find out what was happening at Warehouse Row. Delivering bodies at midnight, getting shot at, mobsters threatening his assistant and girlfriend, all added up to trouble.
He was scared, too. Kevin said the mobster told him to give Joey a message. “Don’t go to the police. We know where your girlfriend lives.” Joey didn’t know if it was an empty threat, but he wasn’t about to find out. Of course, he wasn’t planning on mentioning this new information to Jenny. This was the reason why he wanted Jenny to stay within his sight, if not by his side. She may not be safe at her place, alone and drugged. No, better to keep her beside him so he could keep an eye on her.
They noticed a man who appeared focused coming towards them in a wheelchair. The man was talking to himself. Jenny moved closer to Joey.
He waved as he drew nearer, sweating.
“Hey, what’s up?”
The couple relaxed a little. The man didn’t seem intoxicated or crazy. “What are you doing here?” He paused a few feet in front of them.
“Well, I could ask the same of you, Mister,” Jenny replied, her words slurred due to the drugs she took earlier.
The man smirked. “The drug dealers don’t show up until after dark.” He noticed their binoculars and quirked an eyebrow. “Birdwatching? You’re not going to find anything here except winos, some homeless and a—”
He stopped in mid-sentence when he noticed Jenny nervously glance up to the warehouse windows. The exact warehouse where he’d met the mad doctor only a week ago. His eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?”
“Listen, I’ll be honest,” Joey started, stepping a few feet closer to the man, who backed up.
“Hey, I don’t know who you are, so yeah. You’d better explain yourself.”
The man and Joey stared at each other for a few seconds before Joey gave up and answered. “I’ll tell you why in a nutshell, and then you tell us why you’re here.” Joey had the feeling this guy wasn’t out for a leisurely, Sunday afternoon roll in his wheelchair. There were many other picturesque spots to visit in the East Bay area, rather than wasting an afternoon at Oakland Warehouse Row. People generally referred to this area as dumpster graveyard, because of the numerous abandoned and rusty dumpsters sitting around. Where they’d come from, no one knew.
“How do you know he isn’t one of them?” Jenny leaned into Joey and took his hand.
“Okay, okay. I can see you think I’m someone else. Be cool, man. I’m here to look around some.” He didn’t want to divulge why he was here… to find the doctor. His eyes darted around, not used to lying.
“Honey,” Jenny said, moving behind Joey, “this guy’s making me nervous!” She stared at Barry, wary. “Maybe he’s high, or mentally ill, or—”
“I can hear you!” the man said crossly. “Listen, I’m not a homeless person. I’m not crazy, either. My name’s Barry. I work at Sacred Heart Hospital. I heard about this program where the doc is planning on placing a head on someone else’s body.” Barry gushed, feeling somewhat relieved the pressure was off and he didn’t have to hold in this information any longer. “Listen, I can prove it,” he said as he reached behind him to grab his backpack.
Joey held up his hand. “Whoa, I don’t know what you have in your backpack. You could have a bomb in there to blow us up right here, for all I know. You could be one of the gunmen from this morning who tried to kill my girlfriend. Show him, honey.” Joey gestured towards Jenny. She pulled away the sling and showed off her black-and-blue upper arm.
“Ouch,” Barry said.
They heard a car’s tires squealing over on the next block. Joey stretched out his arm in front of the other two.
“Did you hear that?”
They all stopped and listened. Sure enough, a vehicle was on its way toward them.
“Come on, hide behind the dumpster!” Joey and Jenny helped Barry as they stumbled behind a nearby dumpster, scooting behind it as a white convertible came up fast, rock music blaring. The vehicle stopped in front of the steel door. A middle-aged man hopped out of the driver’s seat and ran around to the passenger side. He opened the passenger door for a younger woman, offering her his hand as she stepped out.
Chapter 18
Stapled Rat Heads - Oakland
“Are you sure this is the place?” Denny looked around and saw graffiti-covered buildings everywhere he turned. He didn’t see any signs other people were nearby. All he saw was litter and remnants of a homeless camp with broken lawn chairs, liquor bottles, and a fire pit. A shredded tent had blown against the building as if an angry black bear had ransacked the place.
He felt vulnerable but noticed a few vehicles a couple blocks over, so he hoped there were other people around somewhere. The hairs on his head bristled and he felt like they were being watched. Denny tried to shake off the feeling of dread and regret.
Baby, oblivious to their ominous surroundings, stomped her delicate high-heeled foot in frustration. “Yes, honey. How many times do I have to tell you? This is the right place!”
“Okay, okay. Call him, would you?” Denny said in resignation. The sooner he got this over with, the better. Get Baby taken care of and get back home. That was the plan. Earlier Baby had screamed an ultimatum: “Get me a new body or I’ll tell your wife your dirty little secret—Me!” Before he knew it, he ended up here.
Women! Denny had no choice for now. He’d do this one last thing for Baby and then—
“We’re to wait by the door,” Baby said, her voice telling him not to mess with her. Denny flinched but didn’t argue. He followed her to a steel reinforced door. It’s newness and appearance of security bolted into the otherwise dilapidated building was strangely out of place.
A man in a white overcoat and a bad haircut opened the steel door and motioned them inside. They both jumped when he turned three deadbolts after the door clanged shut behind them. The co
uple eyed each other in puzzlement. Baby shrugged.
They walked down a short, narrow hallway to the end and stepped through a hidden doorway, which led them to an open warehouse. High above their heads they noticed a catwalk hanging by thick wires next to the row of broken windows. Baby shivered when she saw someone dressed in black step back in the shadows. Maybe her imagination was running overtime? She still clenched Denny’s hand. Aside from their footsteps, it was silent in the warehouse.
The doctor led them to another locked door behind some crates and a partition. He took out a ring of keys for this door as well. The room beyond was a cluttered office. A steel filing cabinet with overstuffed and bulging drawers stood next to a chair piled high with medical journals. There was a small basketball hoop over an overflowing trash bin filled with wadded-up paper. The man gestured to the two chairs in front of a metal desk.
Baby picked up a carton of half-eaten doughnuts with two fingers and set them on the desk in front of her. She sat down and crossed her legs, her tight skirt riding up past her thighs.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Farkis,” the doctor began as he sat across from them, digging through papers strewed across the desk. He pulled out a pair of brown readers from his lab coat pocket and perched them on the edge of his nose.
“Well, now. Well, well…” Farkis folded his hands in front of him, but changed his mind and patted the scattered papers, files and journals in search of a pen.
He paused in thought and held the pen over a small notepad of scratch paper. “Mr. and Mrs.?” His eyebrows arched as he stared at them, waiting for an answer.
Denny cleared his throat. “Oh, we’re not–”
Baby interrupted. “Doctor, I’m the one getting the surgery, of course.” She held out her hand and Farkis leaned over and gently pulled it up to his lips. Baby giggled. Denny made an involuntary gagging noise.
The doctor glanced at Denny, cleared his throat, and sat back down. He continued with a thoughtful tone to his voice. “So, you’ve heard about our procedure, eh?”
Heads Will Roll Page 7
