Saboteur: A Novel

by J. Travis Phelps

  Sullivan held up the laptop turning it in all directions like a cavemen analyzing something utterly foreign and perplexing to him. He put his teeth to it for a taste and then sniffed it. Tierney rose to leave in disgust, but Sullivan stopped him. “I synced my phone with this yesterday from home, I hope you don’t mind. My appointments calendar is updated. It’s a little too easy to hack into your shit to be honest. I cleared out some bugs for you guys as well. Is there an actual I.T. guy or is everybody over there taking orders for value meals?”

  Tierney walked away without speaking. Sullivan chewed absent-mindedly at his pen. So Tierney was keeping him on a truly tight leash. Perhaps he was worried about his lack of full disclosure on the case after all. Nah Sullivan thought, he just wanted to be the first to know if there was a break in the case. He was snooping. Tackett was probably shooting straight on Tierney. He looked two desks down where the chief’s son sat typing away at his computer.

  “Hey, Sheppard,” Sullivan yelled. “You know the fastest way to San Diego College?”

  “Yeah,” he said without looking up. “MapQuest it.”

  “Thanks,” Sullivan said, “you’re the best.”

  Chapter 18

  Downy had almost forgotten about his appointment until Janine buzzed him. “Should I bring in any refreshments, boss?” She said.

  “No, it’s a not a social visit.”

  He had been awake since early morning staring at his cell. Nothing still from Nazim. It was getting very worrisome. His class would begin in ten minutes. He thought of his grad student up there nervously walking everyone through the discussion. He felt a little disgusted with himself for not being there. It would have been nice to see Samara again too. He thought of texting to warn her, but that seemed too—well--too something. Downy needed to keep what happened at school and outside of school separate. Why in hell did the cop need to speak to him anyway? You had to give credit to the police though, for their commitment. The first time had been many years ago now. How long, almost ten? His cell started buzzing on the desk. It was a 202 area code. Thank God it was Nazim. Then his secretary buzzed.

  “Professor, there is a Detective Sullivan here to see you.”

  He looked at the phone with dismay. He would let Nazim talk to his answering machine then. Why did everything have to happen at once? It was one of life’s great questions. Still he was relieved to know he was calling.

  “Send him right in, Janine.”

  Sullivan walked in the office with a big grin.

  “Hello Professor, thank you so much for your time today. I’m Detective Nick Sullivan.”

  Downy rose for a handshake and the two men sat back down quickly.

  Sullivan surveyed the room looking at the pictures on the wall. He rose again and walked to a picture of Downy with his wife on set.

  “Wow man, this is some picture! Is that your wife?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a nod, “it is.”

  “So, she’s like a princess or something?”

  “It was for a mini-series; she had a small role.”

  “She makes Elizabeth Taylor look like a dog. Cleopatra, right?”

  “Right, well her sister actually, the one Cleopatra executed.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit,” Downy said smiling wide.

  “Congratulations. I should get married someday, probably,” he said with an emotionless laugh.

  “I’ll spare you the pep talk, but it’s pretty great. Marry the right person though.”

  “Good advice, thanks.” Sullivan continued to stand and looked at all the pictures in the room with a sense of genuine marvel. “Man, it’s some life you got here. Egypt, Rome, I had you professor types pegged as a bunch of goateed hippies, but you got the world by the cajones.”

  He laughed. It always made him uncomfortable when people flattered him so completely. Sullivan finally returned to his chair and opened a folder in his lap.

  “Hey, could I get you a coffee or tea, water?” Downy said.

  “A coffee would be just great.”

  “Janine, could you bring coffee for two please?”

  “Cream? Sugar?”

  “Black is fine.”

  “Two black coffees, please Janine. It’s Greek boiled coffee, imported from one of my favorite restaurant’s right here in town.

  “Nice.”

  “Yeah, really good stuff. If you like it’s from a place called Woody’s over on Third. Nice place to drink it too.”

  “I’ll check it out.” Sullivan said gratefully.

  “So what part of the South are you from, Detective?” Downy knew accents almost instantly. He wanted to guess South Carolina, but the cadence was too flat.

  “All over really. I spent most of my time in Charleston, but ended up in Richmond.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “About a year” he said, lying. He couldn’t bear the thought of a whole ‘welcome to town’ discussion.’

  “I grew up in the South as well, Kentucky actually.”

  “No shit,” Sullivan said looking genuinely surprised.

  “I went to college in England for a while and lost most of my accent.”

  Janine tiptoed into the room and offered each man his coffee.

  Janine looked back at Downy on her way out the door and fluttered her hand in front of her face like she might faint. It took Downy a second to catch her meaning.

  He smiled at her. He had to admit the guy was awfully good looking.

  “This is really great” Sullivan said putting his cup back to the plate. “Let me get down to tacks here,” he said returning to his folder with a smile. “Could you remind me when it was that you moved into the house on 381 Latimer Street?

  “Oh man, that was in 2005, I think. Maybe 2006.”

  “How did you guys find out about the property?”

  “Well it was empty when we bought it, but it was a friend of mine who lived nearby that told me about it originally.”

  “And what was the friend’s name?”

  “It was Charlie Patterson and his wife Sarah who told us about it.”

  “Would you mind if I contacted them?”

  “I’m sorry, but Charlie is deceased.”

  “Oh, gosh. I’m very sorry.”

  “And his wife, Sarah?”

  “She lives out of state now, but it was just a house near them is all. That’s how they knew about it.”

  “Oh, ok. I know we’ve just about pestered the hell out of you guys with this investigation.” Sullivan said changing his demeanor. “Let me level with you that this case is about as cold as they get. I’m grasping at straws to say the very least. I’m still kind of the new guy and my boss is taking it out on me.”

  Downy laughed. “My first classes when I became a professor were Saturday mornings at 7 am.

  “Ouch.” Sullivan said laughing.

  “Hey as long as you’re here, could I ask you what it was that happened at our place? I never had the nerve to ask the other detectives, but I’d like to know, my wife too.”

  “Fair enough. Thing is, it’s a bit of a mystery even to us, obviously. There was an assault there we believe, probably a fatal one. There was blood, mountains of it actually, but there was never a body. Two blood types at the scene. Sorry I hope this isn’t too shocking to hear,” Sullivan said catching himself, “I know you live there.”

  “No, No,” Downy answered, “I asked. Go on please.”

  “We might have a missing person who could be connected, but that’s about it. I’m just being asked to reexamine the case with fresh eyes.”

  “The house is available during the day, so feel free to come by. It’s been redone for a long time now though, painted.”

  “Sure I understand. We so appreciate your patience, really. The first detective you met with, Fleming was his name. Do you remember anything about what he looked at when he was at your place? Anything seem to interest him particularly?”

  “I think he spent mo
st of his time in the large, front room next to the bay window. I excused myself both times as I recall, but the second guy looked in that area too, for a while actually. I figured it was kind of better not to know, at the time.”

  “Yeah I can see why.”

  “I can show you where later, if you want?”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. Just one more thing: anything unusual about the detective when he interviewed you? Either of them, actually? Were they behaving normally? Anything stand out as odd to you?”

  “No, not that I can recall, but gosh it’s been a really long time.”

  “Yeah, it has.”

  Downy was surprised by how nervous he felt talking to the police, especially when they started asking about each other. He was careful to express that he wanted to be forthcoming. Sullivan leaned back in his chair.

  “I grew up in a college town. I never considered it though,” he said looking around the wall again at all the pictures of Downy’s life. “I’ll bet there are some cool things I missed out on, but you know what, I like how things have turned out anyway.”

  “Great. Being happy is important,” Downy said.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean I was happy exactly. Are you,” he said looking at him suspiciously.

  “I’m sorry,” Sullivan said coming to his senses. “You meant to compliment me and I got very philosophical and dark, didn’t I? I’ll bet the girls love you here, huh,” he said smiling a toothy grin, trying to change the subject.

  There it was; everybody went there eventually. Downy smiled demurely, “A lot fewer than before.”

  He laughed with him. “Come on, you’re about my age. You’re still in the fight.”

  He raised his ring finger and pointed, “I don’t have to fight anymore. They’re not as interesting as you might think either, though of course they are forever young.”

  “Yeah, I hear you. You know, there is just one last thing I wanted to ask you about. In Detective Jensen’s notes he mentioned possibly collecting a blood sample from you. Did he ever ask you for one? I think I’m misreading his notes actually, probably I am.”

  “From me? No, he never did.”

  Sullivan paused.

  “He had written get blood from the professor?” he said holding up the page and pointing to each word of the detective’s hand scrawled notes. “It’s weird though, he put a question mark at the end. Maybe he was only considering it, but even that seems—well--I mean you didn’t even live there yet.”

  “No, as I said, we never really discussed the case with them.”

  “Right, not with Fleming either?”

  “No, not that I recall.”

  “Another professor he meant perhaps?” Sullivan sighed and closed the folder. “Professor Downy, I can’t thank you enough. Maybe our paths will cross again sometime under better circumstances.”

  “The pleasure has been mine,” Downy said finally rising from his chair to shake hands.

  “I’ll see myself out.”

  “So you won’t be needing keys to get in then, to the house?”

  “No,” he said smiling, “I have gotten everything I needed. Thank you.”

  Downy sat for a few moments staring at the wall in front of him. He looked at the pictures and had to agree, life had been pretty good to him. He snatched his cell phone off the desk. It was time to figure out what the hell was going on in Cairo.

  Chapter 19

  Sullivan got on his cell as soon as he was in the parking lot. He hit the name Tackett and waited patiently. It was always an incredible feeling when there was a break in a case. He had to tell someone. Tackett seemed like he had his best interests at heart, even if he was being a bit overly protective. It couldn’t hurt to share some at least of what he had found.

  “Tackett here,” he said picking up.

  “Sergeant, this is Sullivan. Could we meet? I think the uh—house--would be best.”

  “Uh, yeah, yeah,” Tackett said with noticeable surprise. “Everything ok?”

  “Yeah sure,” Sullivan said, “I just want to have a quick chat, probably best had there.”

  “Ok, give me ten minutes. I’m on the other side of town. I get to serve a warrant to a lawyer. It’s my absolute favorite part of the job, so give me a few minutes to savor it, ok? I’ll be right there.”

  “Ok, see ya’ in twenty then.”

  “Don’t go anywhere else, just drive straight there, ok? I’m coming as soon as I can.”

  “Fine. Fine.” Sullivan said clearly annoyed. “I won’t move a muscle.” He passed a small cluster of girls walking together as he arrived at his car. They all giggled, and looked impossibly young.

  “Nice suit man, one of them chided.”

  Sullivan flashed his badge. “Are you girls parked legally? Do you have your decals up in their proper positions?” he said with mock authority.

  They laughed more. “You can arrest me,” one of them said fluttering her eyelashes.

  Being overdressed on a college campus was a major giveaway apparently. He opened the door to his car and in one swooping move grabbed the yellow parking ticket from his windshield. Then, as if he were dancing with an invisible partner, turned to pivot toward the car next to him. He placed the ticket on the windshield, slapping it down under the wiper blade. He then reversed the move back toward his own car and rolled in through the window. He started the engine and a black cloud of exhaust burst out of his tailpipe. He revved the engine like everything depended on it and squealed out of the parking lot. Yes, he thought, College could have been a good place for him.

  ***

  Downy wanted to talk to Naomi immediately. She would definitely want to hear that the cop had seemed more interested in the other detectives than he had been in the crime. What a strange interview it had been for all that. There was something guarded about the detective though. And why had they wanted to speak to the Pattersons? It bothered him, but Nazim’s message was the most important thing on his mind at the moment. He hit the voicemail button. The phone rang only once before a voice answered. The voice was Nazim’s.

  “Hello, Mr. Downy. This is Nazim Celedana returning your call. I presume you must be looking for a boat and I am just your man. You may call me anytime and we can discuss what you’re looking for, and further I can tell you what I can provide. My craft is very large and can hold up to twenty-five crew, fully serviced.”

  It was another generic response. He must not have listened to his message, and must have him mixed up with a new client, Downy thought.

  Downy ignored the rest of the message and hit the redial button and waited. But surely Nazim recognized his number? Weird.

  Downy felt a surge of nervous anticipation as the phone rang.

  “Yes, hello. This is Nazim.”

  “Nazim, it’s Noah, Noah Downy calling. Thank God! Is everything ok over there?”

  “I don’t follow you, sir. Have we met? I am sorry I do not recog--”

  “Nazim, this is Noah calling, Charlie’s partner, Professor Downy.” Downy’s throat tightened as he spoke and his voice went up noticeably in pitch.

  “Ohhhh, so sorry, sir. Yes, Charlie Patterson’s friend. How are you today, sir? I mean Professor Downy; I hope all is well.” There was something off in his voice though.

  “Sir, I believe you sent a messenger to my home recently and there was a bit of a mix up, my family did not know why she had come. One thousand apologies if she was upset by us. I just feel terrible. Charlie has told me all about you, but didn’t mention you were looking for a boat, so my family was confused. They said she seemed very distressed, the girl.”

  Downy sat up stiffly in his chair. What the hell was he talking about?

  “Nazim, how could Charlie tell you?”

  “Sir, I am very sorry if we have met and I have forgotten. I am getting on in years now and some names and faces escape me.”

  “Nazim, are you sick? Are you ok?”

  “No sir, I am sorry. I just do not recall our having ever spoke
n before. Charlie is a dear friend though and anything you want, I can assure you, I can provide.”

  “It was Samara at your house, Nazim. You remember Samara?”

  “I cannot, I’m afraid. Perhaps you have me confused.”

  “So you do know Charlie, but not Samara? I’m sorry, but could I speak to your wife? Can you put Diba Jan on the phone, Nazim?”

  “I am so utterly confused right now my friend. My wife is at home, sir. I am at my office. Have you and she met before?”

  Downy was speechless. He sat motionless for many seconds.

  “Sir, perhaps I should call Charlie and you can speak with him to refresh my memory.”

  “Nazim, Charlie is dead. Why would you say that?”

  “No, sir, that cannot be. I only just saw him, only two weeks ago. Has something happened? Sir?”

  “Yes, Nazim he died on your boat five years ago, goddamnit. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Sir, there is a terrible confusion here. No one has died on my boat. Let me call Charlie and get back to you immediately. Charlie, he is fine. I know it. I would have heard. I will call after I--”

  Downy threw his cell across the office, hitting the wall. Janine rang immediately.

  “Professor, is everything ok in there?”

  Downy could barely speak, “Fine, Janine. Cell phone trouble.”

  He darted to pick it up. The line was dead. It was for the best as he was about to lose control anyway. Was his friend losing his mind? Had Charlie’s death caused him to go insane, or was it something else? It seemed like the only rational explanation. It was just as Samara said. He was polite like always, but seemed genuinely confused. It frightened him how much it sounded like true mental illness. He didn’t have Nazim’s home number in his phone, but buzzed Janine to get it for him.