Rachel's Folly

by Bruno, Monica

  Paul stopped playing the piano and looked pensive. “I have a friend who works at the New England School of Communications in Bangor,” he said. “I wonder if he can take her voice message to the audio engineering department and see if they can slow it down and analyze it. Maybe they can pick up something that the human ear can’t?”

  Ben quickly turned to face him. “Really, you think so?”

  “It’s worth a shot. I’m sure the police already analyzed it, but at least you can get some peace of mind knowing you got all you can from it. We definitely can’t lose anything.”

  “Yes. Please. Can you find out?” Ben asked eagerly.

  “Let me see if I can reach him.” Paul went to retrieve his phone from the kitchen. Ben heard him talking and held his breath until he heard Paul say, “That’s great, I’ll take the phone over tomorrow. Oh? Alright. Thanks so much.”

  Ben entered the kitchen just as Paul disconnected the call. He looked at Paul anxiously.

  “The good news is he thinks he can do it. The bad news is he’s swamped until after the Christmas break, so it may be a few weeks before we get any information.”

  Disappointed, Ben said, “Well, I’ll just have to wait, then.”

  * * *

  In the weeks that followed, Ben tried to keep occupied with his work and his writing. He called Edward from time to time to check on him and Jacob. Ben’s heart ached whenever he spoke with Jacob. He could tell that he was trying to be strong and Ben marveled at how resilient he was, being so young. He wished the same was true for Edward, but he often sounded angry or depressed and kept their exchanges as short as possible. Ben had thought about telling Edward he was having Rachel’s voicemail analyzed, but he feared that Edward would just belittle his efforts.

  Paul was now spending most of his nights at Ben’s home, and Ben could tell he was trying hard to keep his spirits up. Paul had managed to make Christmas more bearable by preparing a homemade dinner and inviting a couple of mutual friends over to celebrate the holiday. Even Janelle had stopped by and stayed for a while.

  Ben was in his office reviewing a student’s graduate application when the phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. It was Paul. He answered immediately.

  “Hey, I just got off the phone with my friend in Bangor,” he said without waiting for a greeting.

  “And?” Ben stopped breathing.

  “Well, unfortunately, he wasn’t able to make much more sense of the recording than you already had.”

  Ben’s heart sank.

  “He said the static was just too thick—but he did find out one thing.”

  “Yes?” Ben raised his eyebrow in anticipation.

  “Well, I know it sounds weird, but he swears Rachel didn’t say ‘the bastard was selfish.’ He says she said ‘the bastard was with dish.’”

  Ben wrinkled his brow. “Excuse me? Did you say dish; D as in dog?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “The bastard was with dish,” Ben repeated. Dismayed, he wrote it down on a piece of scrap paper lying on his desk. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I know, but he’s absolutely convinced that’s what she said.”

  Ben sighed and sat back in his chair, pondering the new information. “Okay, okay. Let me think about this. I’m going to have to call Edward.”

  “Good luck with that,” Paul said sarcastically.

  “Yes, I’m sure he’s going to be thrilled,” Ben replied. “I’ll see you later?”

  “I’ll be there before seven.”

  Ben hung up and rubbed his eyes. He dreaded the call he was about to make. He knew Edward was going to be upset that he was still digging around, “chasing theories” as he had called it. Ben also knew that “the bastard was with dish” sounded ridiculous and probably meant nothing. But he had to ask. It was all he had.

  The phone rang four times before Edward picked up.

  “Hey Ben, what’s up?” He sounded tired.

  “Uh, did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “No, I was just about to pick up Jacob. What’s going on?”

  “Well, I know you’re probably going to get upset, but just hear me out, alright?”

  “Alright,” Edward replied calmly.

  “So, I had the voice message Rachel left me analyzed by a sound engineer over here and he thinks Rachel didn’t say ‘the bastard was selfish.’” Ben hesitated a moment. “He thinks she said ‘the bastard was with dish’; dish with a D. Does that make any sense to you?” There was a long pause on the line. Ben winced, fearing a negative reaction. “Does ‘dish’ mean anything to you? Edward, are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here, just a minute,” he said evenly.

  “Do you know what that could mean?”

  There was another long pause before Edward said, “Maybe.”

  Ben sat up in his chair.

  “Dish was the name of one of Rachel’s clients. Rach was really wrapped up in her. She’s a troubled kid, mixed up in drugs and has a lot of problems at home.”

  “Do you think Jack could have been involved with her in some way?”

  “I seriously doubt it, and even if he knew her, why would Rachel be upset about that? I don’t know, Ben. That sounds a little farfetched to me. ‘The bastard was selfish’ makes much more sense; plus, don’t you think the police would have picked up on that?”

  “I guess. I don’t know.” Ben felt a little embarrassed. “Well, maybe I could just ask her if she knows anything. It can’t hurt. You wouldn’t happen to know how I can get a hold of her, would you?”

  “That’s not even her real name. Rachel never told me her clients’ actual names. But your mother stopped by here a few days after the funeral with some religious books for Jacob and a teddy bear. She said the bear was left at the funeral home. There was a personal note attached. I didn’t recognize the name when I first read it, but I remember thinking later it could have been Dish. I’m looking for the card right now.” Ben heard him shifting things around. “Here it is.” Edward read the card out loud. “You don’t know me, but your mommy was a good friend to me. She was a good person. The card is signed Sara Dishner.”

  * * *

  There was a snow storm expected overnight and the accumulation was already more than two inches. From the window in his home office, Ben watched the snowflakes falling rapidly.

  When Ben told Paul that he thought he knew who Dish was, Paul suggested searching for her on Facebook. Since Ben had never been into social media and didn’t have an account, Paul sent a personal message from his own account to the three Sara Dishners who lived in Austin. Four days had passed and Ben still hadn’t received the message he was hoping for. He had gotten a message from one of the women on the same night the request went out, but it was just a quick reply to say that she wasn’t the person he was looking for.

  Ben turned his gaze away from the window and back to the computer screen. He had been spending most of his free time in front of the computer, hoping he would get a message from the Sara he was looking for. Each day that passed, he became more discouraged.

  He sighed deeply and stared at a picture of Paul, Rachel and himself on Paul’s Facebook page. Ben remembered when it was taken, on top of Mount Bonnell, years before on one of their trips to Austin. It was a good day, but it felt like an eternity ago, back when his life made sense.

  When Paul had opened his Facebook account to Ben, he had made it a point not to go through Paul’s postings and messages. He made sure to keep the screen on the picture and messages that were right in front of him. He did this partly because he wanted to respect Paul’s privacy, but also because he was afraid of what he might find. He still held resentment towards the man Paul had cheated on him with and Ben knew he would be upset if he found any indication that they were still in contact. Even so, as he sat there, with his chin resting in his hand, Ben toyed with the idea of taking a deeper look at Paul’s page. Ben had never opened a Facebook account himself because he liked to keep his private lif
e private. He was grateful that Facebook hadn’t been around when he was younger and foolish, finding comfort in the fact that his irresponsible indiscretions were locked away in his memory and not carelessly exploited, like on the cover of a tabloid. At least he hoped that was the case. Paul had gone upstairs to bed, but Ben looked over his shoulder anyway, just to make sure he wasn’t around. He turned back to the computer and clicked the mouse on Paul’s page.

  He slowly scrolled down to read various postings and look at some pictures. He quickly became aware that unlike himself, Paul had no problem sharing his life with the world. He put it all out there for everyone to see. And rightfully so: Paul was one of the most photogenic people Ben knew, and most of the pictures were simply of him looking beautiful. Some looked like a professional photographer had taken them. He noticed a picture Paul recently posted of himself and Ben that was taken years back at a party in Miami. They were both smiling broadly, holding each other tightly while looking directly at the camera. That was a good night, Ben thought, remembering how the two of them had ended up on the rooftop of a trendy hotel, drinking and dancing with the full moon shining overhead and the ocean glimmering in the distance. The caption Paul had written read, “Happy to report, I’m back with the love of my life!” The post had thirty-six likes and fourteen comments. Most of the comments were congratulations and well-wishes. There was one from Hector, a mutual friend, who said they should all get together the next time they were in Austin. Someone named Marty, however, was clearly not happy and let Paul know it. “Boo!” he wrote. “You’re too young and gorgeous for that old hag. Call me when you get tired of being his live-in maid.” Ben was hurt but felt better immediately when he read the comment directly below that one. Angelo had written, “Bitch, please. You’re just jealous!”

  Ben snooped around a little more, read some meaningless, catty banter between Paul and his friends, and browsed through some of Paul’s likes before he clicked back to the picture taken at Mount Bonnell. He felt irritated and wasn’t really sure why. He knew he wasn’t jealous or mad at Paul, but he wasn’t feeling good about him either. After a moment of letting busy thoughts bounce around his head, he realized he was disappointed that Paul was still in the same place he had been before they broke up. The age difference between them had never been a problem before. In fact, Ben liked that Paul was so much younger because it made him feel younger, too; but now, it made him wonder. Paul had the same friends, was still going to the same nightclubs, and still obsessed with the latest in fashion and music. It was like he hadn’t grown at all.

  Feeling downhearted, Ben was just about to call it a night when a little, red message sign popped up on his screen. He hesitated for a second in anticipation and then clicked on the icon. There were only four words followed by a phone number. It read: “I was Rachel’s client.” He felt a rush of adrenalin and immediately picked up his cell to call the number. A girl’s voice answered the line promptly.

  “Sara?”

  “Yeah.” She dragged out the word, sounding cold and guarded.

  “Hi. This is Ben Mosley, Rachel Richards’ brother.”

  “Yeah,” she replied again.

  Ben suddenly felt panicked. He could sense Sara was put off and quickly realized he wasn’t going to get much out of her over the phone. “Ms. Dishner, I know this might seem highly unusual, but I really need to speak with you, and I think it would be better to meet in person. Will you meet with me? It can be in a public place of your choosing.”

  “Uh …” There was a long pause. “Sure, I guess,” she said indifferently. “I can meet you tomorrow after I get out of work.”

  “I can’t be there tomorrow. You’ll need to give me a few days. I live in Maine, but I think I can be there by Sunday or Monday. Will that work?”

  “You’re coming all the way from Maine to talk to me?” She sounded skeptical. “It must be pretty important.”

  “It’s extremely important,” Ben said.

  “I work late on Monday, but I can meet you when I get out around seven. There’s a place called Isaac’s Coffee House on 28th and Lamar. It’s right next to my work.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  * * *

  Ben was able to schedule a flight for that Saturday. He decided to take Homer with him this time to help cheer up Jacob. He wanted to do whatever he could to lift the spirits in that house. When he called Edward to let him know he was coming, Ben told him he missed Jacob and had some business he needed to take care of. He had expected Edward to ask for more information about Ben’s business, but he didn’t. He simply said it was fine. Ben realized then that Edward was just going through the motions of daily life, but had emotionally checked out. He figured that was just Edward’s way of coping, which might be fine for him, but was not healthy for Jacob. Ben worried that Edward was inadvertently neglecting his son, who seemed to be trying to stay strong for his father. That was just too much to bear for such a small child.

  He arrived in Austin late that night. He knew Jacob and Agnes would be fast asleep and he didn’t want to bother Edward for a ride, so he took a cab and tried not to make too much noise when he got there. He texted Edward when the taxi pulled onto his street to let him know he was there. Homer ran ahead of Ben as he struggled with his luggage and paid the driver.

  When Edward opened the door, Ben was immediately struck by his brother-in-law’s appearance. His eyes were dark and drained; his hair, messy and flat on one side. His dress clothes looked worn and wrinkled, missing its usual tie. Everything about him appeared untucked. Edward gave him a quick, strong hug and Ben nearly recoiled when he caught a whiff of Edward’s foul body order. He wondered how long it had been since he had showered. Ben entered the house and walked into the foyer.

  “How was the flight?” Edward asked as he carefully closed the door.

  “Fine, I’ve burned through all my frequent flyer miles in the past few months alone. I think they know me by my first name at the airport.” Ben put his bag down by the staircase. He stood up, looked around and inhaled slowly. “The house still smells like her.”

  “Yeah …” Edward stood by him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you want some tea?” he asked quietly.

  “That would be great,” Ben said, trying to keep his voice low so as not to wake the others.

  Ben followed Edward into the kitchen where he poured the tea, and then they both sat down in the dim light at the kitchen table. Ben looked at Edward and couldn’t help noticing how aged and tired he appeared. He had lost weight, his skin looked pale gray, he needed a shave and his hair was in dire need of a good trim.

  Concerned, Ben asked, “How ya doin’, brother?”

  Edward took a deep breath and looked out into space. “Getting by, I guess.” He paused for a moment, then asked, “How are you?” But before Ben could answer, Edward continued. “You know, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I mean, I see death all the time at the hospital. I genuinely grieve for the families when it happens. But no one can prepare you for this.” He looked over at Ben. “Jacob walks around with his little packed suitcase saying he wants to get on an airplane to go see his mommy in Heaven. I’ve caught him talking to himself. He says he’s talking to her. He sleeps with me every night now, cries out for her in his sleep. He cries during the day at the drop of a hat. He even started wetting the bed again.” He looked off into space again. “I just don’t know how to do this.”

  “I’m sorry, Ed. I don’t know what to say. It’s heartbreaking.” Ben reached across the table and put his hand on Edward’s shoulder. Edward bowed his head and closed his eyes. Ben noticed that he was still wearing his wedding ring.

  After a moment, Edward raised his head and rubbed his scruffy chin. “So what made you come back so soon?”

  “Sara Dishner,” Ben replied apprehensively, knowing Edward wasn’t going to like his answer.

  Edward grinned and shook his head slowly. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You’re still playing detective, huh? And
what exactly are you trying to find?”

  “Look, I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I’m meeting with Sara on Monday, and I really think she might be able to shed some light on this whole situation.” He turned his chair to face Edward’s and raised his voice slightly for emphasis. “I think I might be able to—”

  Edward raised his hand and stopped him mid-sentence. “You know what, Ben? You’re right. I don’t want to hear it,” he said sternly. He grabbed his head with both hands and pushed his fingers through his hair. “I feel like I’m going insane here.” He paused and squeezed his eyes shut. “I really wish you hadn’t told me about what happened between Rachel and Jack. I can’t grieve properly because I’m so fucking angry. I can’t talk to her to work it out. I’ll never know why she did it.”

  “I didn’t want to tell you. I had to tell you. I really do believe that son of a bitch had something to do with her death and I’m going to keep digging for answers until the truth comes out.” Ben spoke rapidly, but then realized how loudly he was speaking and stopped himself from saying more. He was frustrated that Edward was being so closed-minded about his quest for answers about his sister’s death. He felt feverish and his heart was pounding. He took a deep breath to calm himself down.

  “You know what I think?” Edward asked. “I think you can’t let this thing about Jack go because you’re so damned consumed with guilt over not being there for Rachel. You just can’t handle it. But if you can prove there was a murder, that someone else did it … well, then you didn’t do anything wrong, right?”

  Ben shook his head in protest, but deep down he knew what Edward said was true.

  “I wasn’t there for her either, Ben. I have to live with that, too.”

  Ben was about to speak, but Edward spoke first, looking directly into Ben’s eyes and tapping the table with his index finger to emphasize his point. “Look, you do what you need to do to get through this, but let me mourn in peace. And don’t talk to me about Jack anymore because it only makes me think about what happened.”