by Mike Befeler
I stopped to sip some water from the drinking fountain in the lobby, and Meyer came bounding out of the restroom. He gave me a whack on the back, causing the jet to spurt water on my chin.
“Besides getting whipped at shuffleboard, what do you like doing for exercise?” he asked.
“Walking,” I said, wiping away the remaining drops from my face. “And you?”
“I enjoy swimming and the water aerobics class.”
I grimaced. “I hate swimming.”
“You’re something else, Paul. You hate swimming, lawyers, and pills.”
“Hey, everyone has his preferences. I like reading.”
“That’s what I miss, curling up with a good book.”
“Do you listen to books on tape?”
“I tried that, but with my poor eyesight I kept getting the tapes mixed up. I’d be listening to the beginning of a murder mystery, and suddenly it was solved. I didn’t realize I had jumped from the first to the last tape.”
“Why don’t I read to you?”
He stopped and looked at me. “You joking?”
“No. I used to read out loud to Rhonda. I enjoy it, and we could share a good story together.”
We took the wait-forever elevator up to the eighth floor and traipsed down the hallway to Meyer’s apartment.
The first thing I noticed was that his place was neater than mine. No clothes thrown on chairs, although some books had fallen over on his bookshelf. The blue flower-patterned couch looked almost new.
Right inside the living room stood the only unusual item. On top of a tall three-legged table with a white marble top, rested a red, blue, and green oriental vase. It didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of the décor.
I was going to ask about the vase when Meyer signaled me over to the sliding glass door.
“What I like about this apartment is the view . . . or more correctly, what I remember about the view because everything is pretty fuzzy now. At sunrise on a clear day the mountains are a vivid orange. Now I still look for the color, although I can’t make out the shapes of the peaks very well.”
“But you remember what it looks like,” I said. “I can see sunrise clearly, but it’s a new experience for me every morning.”
My attention returned to the multi-colored oriental vase. I reached my hand toward it.
“Careful,” Meyer said. “Please don’t touch that.”
I pulled my hand back like I had been burned.
“Valuable heirloom?” I asked.
“It’s Martha.”
“What’s Martha?”
“The vase contains the ashes of my wife Martha,” Meyer said.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb her.” I looked at it more carefully, glad that my wife Rhonda was buried and not in a container in my apartment. “A pretty vase, but is it such a good idea to keep the remains of your wife here?”
“It helps me remember her.”
I thought back to Rhonda and all our happy times together. Even with my defective memory, I could still remember her crooked little smile and the glow in her eyes when she was excited about one of the accomplishments of our son Denny. I didn’t need any ashes for that.
“Must be quite a chick magnet when you have a woman up to your apartment,” I said.
Meyer laughed. “You have such a quaint way of stating things.”
“That’s me. One friggin’ quaint guy.”
I looked toward the bookshelf. “What would you like me to read to you?”
“This may sound strange, but why not Alice in Wonderland?”
“That’s appropriate,” I said. “I feel like I’ve gone down a rabbit hole. May give me insight into this nuthouse I’m in.”
* * * * *
When I returned to my apartment, the light on my phone was flashing, so I called the operator and received a message that my son Denny would be arriving for lunch.
I was looking forward to seeing him, but there was some underlying irritation I couldn’t put my finger on. Anyway, we’d sit with Meyer and Henry. That would provide a good neutral territory to start off.
I had barely finished that thought when my doorbell rang. I opened the door. There was Denny, six foot even, neatly cut hair, mustache with a hint of gray. He looked older than I remembered. He had grown into a successful businessman, husband, and father. I liked seeing my only offspring. Yet, he was too intense. Probably my own fault.
“Hi, Dad.”
He handed me a box of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts. We’d never been a family that hugs.
“Come on in to my new villa. It’s good to see you.”
“It’s only been two days,” he said.
“Yeah, well I forget things. How’s that granddaughter of mine?”
“Jennifer is growing like a weed. She’s looking forward to coming to visit you this summer.”
“I’d like to see her again,” I said. “You still gainfully employed?”
He laughed. “Job’s going great. Closed a deal on Maui yesterday; so in addition to getting you moved in, it has been a profitable trip.” He looked at me carefully. “You look in good physical shape, Dad. Keep up your daily exercise.”
“I plan to. I enjoy walking, and it keeps my legs strong.”
Denny strolled through the kitchenette. “Does it feel like home yet?”
“No. It’s like a whole new adventure every morning.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You taking your medicine?”
“Sure. Doesn’t seem to do any good.”
He shuffled his feet. “I know you weren’t anxious to move here, but it’s best for you.”
“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll get used to it. Say, it’s chow time. Let’s head down to the mess hall. I want you to meet a couple of people.”
* * * * *
At lunch Meyer and Denny hit it right off. They discussed business while Henry did his thing with the tuna sandwich and barley soup.
“You interested in baseball?” Meyer asked Denny.
“One of my favorite sports.”
“We have our own almanac here in Henry. Ask him any baseball trivia question.”
Denny scrutinized Henry.
Henry kept eating without looking up.
“Okay,” Denny said. “Who won the 1949 American League pennant and who was the manager?”
“Easy,” Henry said still without looking up. “Yankees. Casey Stengel.”
“National League batting champion for 1939?”
“John Mize . . . 349.”
“Not bad,” Denny said.
“Henry and I have very similar memories,” I added.
“Except yours leaks like a sieve,” Henry said. He looked up at Denny. “Did you know your father’s a criminal?”
“What?”
I jumped in. “It’s only a little matter of a murder. I found the body.”
Denny’s eyes widened. “That’s horrible. Must have been quite a shock to you.”
“I guess. It happened yesterday, so I don’t remember the particulars other than what I wrote down. From the notes I made last night, I know that the police questioned me. The victim was someone who sued me.”
“That Tiegan guy?” Denny asked.
“That’s the one.”
* * * * *
After lunch we returned to my apartment. Denny surveyed my living room and picked up one of the two novels lying on the end table. “Looks like you’ve settled in.”
“Yeah. My home away from home.”
“What do you mean by that, Dad?”
“Nothing. I’m getting used to this place.”
The doorbell rang. A stranger who resembled a bulldog in a dark suit stood there. “Yes,” I said. “What can I do for you?”
“I need to ask you some further questions,” he said.
I grimaced. “And who are you?”
“We talked yesterday. I’m Detective Saito.”
“I remember reading that name, but you don’t look familiar.”
“Your memory
problem?”
“That’s it.”
“May I come in to speak with you?”
“Sure. My son’s here.”
“We can talk another time if it’s more convenient,” he said.
“That’s all right. Denny can hear what you have to say.”
Detective Saito walked inside.
“Denny, Detective Saito is here in regards to the murder investigation I mentioned to you.”
“I need to ask you some questions about Mr. Tiegan,” Detective Saito said.
“Fire away,” I said. “But I don’t remember him.”
Denny looked up. “I know something about Tiegan, but I don’t know if I should discuss it with the police.”
“Doesn’t matter to me,” I said. “I’m anxious to learn more with regards to this whole situation anyway.”
Denny cleared his throat. “Marshall Tiegan sued my dad. I’ve seen the paperwork.”
“Give me some details,” Detective Saito said.
Denny wrinkled his brow and looked at me again.
I nodded my head.
Denny let out a breath. “It seems Dad and Tiegan were acquaintances from the condominium where they both used to live. Tiegan showed Dad his stamp collection and then went into his kitchen, leaving Dad scrutinizing the stamps. After Dad left the apartment, Tiegan discovered that some stamps were missing. He accused Dad of stealing them and filed a suit.”
“How much did he say was missing?” I asked.
“Six thousand dollars’ worth,” Denny replied.
“Shit,” I said. “I wouldn’t take something like that. Stamps, I mean.”
“You accused Tiegan of lying,” Denny said.
“He must have lied. I don’t steal.”
“So a trial date was set for a month from now,” Denny said.
I looked at Detective Saito. “This is all news to me. I can’t remember any of it.”
“Do you know what kind of stamps were in Mr. Tiegan’s collection?” Saito asked.
“Since I don’t remember, I can’t help you there, Detective,” I said. “Denny, do you know?”
“I don’t recall,” Denny said.
“It seems, Detective, that memories are kind of sparse around here,” I said.
“That’s all very interesting.” Saito’s gaze met mine. “It was a Swiss stamp collection. Bring back some recollections, Mr. Jacobson?”
At first I didn’t know what he was getting at. Then I remembered something I had read in my journal.
“You found a Swiss stamp in my apartment yesterday,” I said with a gulp.
Chapter 5
“Very good, Mr. Jacobson,” Detective Saito said. “Your memory is coming back.”
“No, but I read some notes this morning about what happened yesterday.”
“So how did you and Tiegan both end up here?” the detective asked.
Denny said, “That’s a surprise to me. I moved Dad in two days ago. I didn’t realize that Tiegan lived here as well.”
“What time did you leave that day?” Detective Saito asked Denny.
He thought for a moment. “It was right before dinnertime. Probably five-thirty. I had an eight P.M. flight to Maui.”
Saito turned his gaze from Denny to me. “Mr. Jacobson, we found your fingerprints on the handle of the trash chute.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t surprise me. Apparently, I was throwing away a bag of trash and opened the chute. That’s when I saw the body.”
“Could also have been prints from when you stuffed the body in the trash chute.”
“Give me a break, Detective. I found the body. I didn’t put it there.”
“What else did you do the night of the murder?”
“Look, Detective, I’ll help any way I can, but I really don’t remember things from day to day.”
“That’s true,” Denny said. “I can get a statement from Dad’s doctor if that will help.”
“What’s the name of his doctor?” Detective Saito asked.
Denny gave him the information.
“Detective, you’re wasting your time with me,” I said. “If I were you, I’d look elsewhere. Someone has a key to the trash chute. See, I had no way to get into that locked trash chute during the night. But someone else did. For starters, the night watchman, Moki, had a set of keys. I’d pursue him.”
“That’s a fascinating theory. You keep bringing up keys. Any chance you made a duplicate copy of the trash chute key, Mr. Jacobson?”
“Why’d you think that?”
“Just curious.”
“The answer is no,” I said. “But go check with the facilities manager or Moki.”
“You keep coming back to Moki,” Saito said. “You seem overly interested in him.”
“He was there the night of the murder.”
Saito scribbled some notes on his pad and then looked up at me. “We’re closing in on you, Mr. Jacobson.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
Detective Saito stared at me. “If you can’t remember, how do you know you weren’t involved?”
* * * * *
After Detective Saito left, trailing behind the aroma of stale cigarettes, I sat there pondering what I’d heard. This guy Saito seemed intent on getting me to confess to something. But I had nothing to confess. What if he arrested me? Not much I could do to prevent it. Then I’d have to get a damned lawyer. But still there wasn’t anything useful they could drag out of me. Maybe they could hypnotize me. Would I remember any better under hypnosis? Probably not. What if I had done something, but couldn’t remember it? Nah. I’d never been that kind of person. What if I’d undergone some kind of permanent change like those people who start swearing when their brains go on the fritz? Hell, I already swore. No change there. My brain was defective, but it hadn’t gone that haywire. No, I’d have to figure out what was going on in my own half-assed way.
I gave Denny my journal. “Here, go through this. It’ll give you an account of what’s happened.”
Denny read the material, then raised his eyes to peer at me. “Finding a body in the trash chute must have really shaken you.”
“Not as much as being accused of murder.”
Denny nodded his head. “And you and Tiegan both moved here.”
“It does seem strange that he and I ended up on the same floor.”
“That part is understandable,” Denny said. “When I signed you up for Kina Nani, there was quite a wait. Then things were expedited because they converted the sixth floor from administrative offices to residence rooms. You and Tiegan must have both moved in as the new floor opened up.”
“So what happens to the lawsuit with Tiegan dead?”
“Good question. I’m going to check.” Denny pulled out his cell phone. “I have your lawyer and the other lawyer’s phone numbers here.” He punched buttons a number of times.
“This is Denny Jacobson. May I speak with Frederick Kapana, please?” There was a pause. “And when will he be returning?” Another pause. “Okay. Thank you.”
He lowered the phone. “Your lawyer’s on vacation for a few days. I’ll try the opposing lawyer. Guy’s name is Harrison Young.”
Instead of watching Denny do his finger-punching thing again, I went to the bathroom. When I returned, Denny was pacing the floor like Meyer and glowering.
“Not good news?” I asked.
“Harrison Young wasn’t very cooperative.”
“You mean he’s a typical lawyer.”
“Worse than that. He says he knows you’re a suspect in Tiegan’s death. He accused you of stealing the whole stamp collection this time. He promised to come after you on behalf of Tiegan’s estate.”
“Maybe we can get him together with Detective Saito so they can take turns tearing off my limbs.”
“Very funny.” Denny scowled. “We need to get your lawyer involved as soon as he gets back from vacation.”
“I’m not ready for that. I’ll see what I can uncover on my own first.”
“This whole situation worries me, Dad.”
“Thanks for the concern, but I didn’t do anything. I’ll get it cleared up.”
“I wish there was something that could be done to help your memory,” Denny said.
“You and me both.”
“When I last spoke to your doctor, he was puzzled by your situation.”
“Me, too.”
“He said short-term memory loss was typical for someone like you who had experienced minor strokes, but your symptoms are unusual.”
“I always like to be different,” I said.
“Apparently, the loss of function is activated when you go to sleep.”
“That makes sense. I remember things fine during the day.”
Denny cleared his throat. “On another subject, we need to discuss finances.”
“You going to stake me to a poker game?”
“No. You know what I’m referring to. Paying for Kina Nani.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t remember,” I said. “What’s the situation?”
“When I sold your condo, I put the proceeds and your other savings into an annuity. Your social security and interest on the annuity pay for this place, but you don’t have a lot to spare. After the annuity comes due in a year, you’ll be able to take money out to afford a more expensive care facility if needed.”
“Meaning I better watch my expenses and not try to support any of the widows clunking around here.”
“Meaning you’re covered for now, as long as you have no major medical expenses.”
“If I get sick, I promise to die.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Dad.”
“Well, what are you saying?”
He sighed. “You’re not making this easy.”
“I’m not making it anything. What’s on your mind?”
“You can afford things right now if you don’t get worse and have to go to a care home too soon.”
“Worse? You mean if my mind really craps out?”
He frowned. “Something like that.”
“I’ll be economical and try not to let my brain turn to mush. And I do want to leave you a little inheritance.”
“It’s not that. . . .”
“I know, but I don’t want to be a burden on you and your family,” I said. “Let’s see how things work out. You don’t mind if I donate fifty-thousand dollars to the Kaneohe Orphans’ Society?”
