“So you were able to find him?” she said.
“Who?”
“Terry. You found his grave. Mom and Dad said that you were going to look for it.
“So, you’re his sister?”
“Yeah. I’m Marisol.”
Parminter was surprised. He had thought that Terry was an only child. He had never said anything about a sister. “I’m John Parminter. Your brother and I were roommates in college.”
“Oh, I know who you are. I also know what you’re thinking,” she said smiling. Before Parminter had a chance to say anything, she continued, “You’re thinking that you didn’t even know that Terry had a sister. Especially a Mexican one. Well, he did, and that’s me.”
“You must be quite a bit younger.”
“Yeah, he was out of college when Mom and Dad adopted me out of a shithole orphanage in Mexico. They did it through an orphan sponsor program,” she said pointing to the church. “I was too young to really remember it, but I imagine it was probably like winning the lottery or something.”
“Oh, well, then that must have happened after we roomed together.”
“Yeah, probably.”
She came in closer to him. She looked to be in her mid-to late twenties but it was hard to tell. “I know that we weren’t blood, but Terry and I were close. He was an only child before I came along and he really played the big brother role to the full extent. I loved him and these people are the only family I know.” At this, her eyes started to tear up.
“I understand completely,” Parminter said, noticing that she quickly wiped her eyes, as if hiding the fact that she was emotionally moved.
She looked out over the cemetery. “It’s hard to imagine that every one of these gravestones represents a person. I mean there’s hundreds of them and probably half of them are my family. It just boggles the mind that each of these spots holds a lifetime of experiences.”
“I know. It can be a little overwhelming.”
She looked him at him and smiled. “I know what you’re thinking again.”
“Okay, what am I thinking?” Was he so easy to read that this girl knew his every thought?
“You’re probably wondering why there’s no mention of the great author Nate Geralds on Terry’s grave.”
“You’re good. That’s exactly what I was thinking. Well, one of the things I was thinking.”
“It’s not like I’m a mind reader or anything, I’m just good at figuring out what people are thinking. I just put myself in their place and figure out what I would be thinking in that same situation and usually I’m right.”
“You would make a good cop,” Parminter said. “My ex-wife is a cop.”
“Well, you’re close. I’m a lawyer.”
“That makes sense,” Parminter said.
“Do you want to know the reason why there’s no mention of his alter-ego on the grave?”
“Yes, I would.”
“That’s because there’s another grave. A memorial to Nate Geralds over near his house. It’s about an hour and half away from here. As far as anyone outside the family knows, Terry Dufresne and Nate Geralds are two separate people.”
“Why would that be so important? Most people take it for granted that a lot of authors use pen names.”
She looked around as if she was revealing a great secret. “This is different. They wanted to keep it a secret with Terry. They didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Who’s this they you’re talking about?”
“His agent. The publisher. Everybody involved.”
“So, you’re saying that there’s a cover-up?”
“Not exactly. I mean, nobody’s trying to disguise the fact that he killed himself.”
“It’s just that there’s something else going on that doesn’t really make sense?”
“Exactly.”
“But why?” Parminter asked.
She looked over her shoulder again. “He told me things that he didn’t tell them, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m pretty sure I do,” Parminter said.
* * * * *
“No, I’m grieving. I’m just doing something about it.”
Parminter and Marisol were sitting in a roadhouse type bar/restaurant a few miles from what Marisol called, “The Official Burial Site of the Author Nate Geralds.” Marisol had invited him there so they could talk a little more comfortably. She was going up to the official site anyway, so she had asked him if he wanted to come up and see it.
“Well, you seem to be holding up well,” Parminter said and took a sip of beer.
“Oh, I’m completely broken up inside. It’s just that there’s something not right about this. I mean, this was my brother. If he was going through this kind of depression why he wouldn’t say anything about it?”
A few hours earlier, Parminter had followed her in his Jaguar to the other memorial that was situated from what was called the “Author’s House.” The official burial site was on the estate at a hill overlooking a large pond. Construction had already begun on an elaborate walkway to the place. The memorial consisted of a large stone monument in the form of a book. A gentle breeze seemed to blow constantly over the site so it gave off a rather pleasant aura. It was completely clichéd but quite grand. It was exactly the sort of thing someone would imagine for an author like Nate Geralds.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Marisol said.
“It is.” Parminter looked around the estate and his eyes rested on the enormous old farmhouse-style mansion in the distance. “Did Terry live here alone?”
Marisol smiled. “No. He didn’t.”
“Oh, did he have a girlfriend?”
“No, actually he didn’t live here at all.”
“What?” Parminter was confused.
“That was also a secret. Not even my parents knew. All this is actually owned by Nate Geralds on paper, but Nate Geralds is actually an entity of the book company. He isn’t even a real person. Terry didn’t own any of it.”
Parminter was flabbergasted. “But surely your parents suspected?”
“Yeah, they thought something was up. But the book company let Terry live here when he need a place to stay just to make it look authentic. They also let him use it for family holidays and special occasions—you know to take pictures and stuff.”
Parminter had seen some of the holiday pictures at the place on the internet and knew exactly what she was talking about.
“He could come here anytime he wanted.” She pointed over at a building to the left of the coach house. “That’s where he did it.”
“Where he hanged himself?”
“Yes. The workshop. With an extension cord, they said.” She choked back a sob.
“I see.” Parminter could see that it was hurting her to talk about it.
Just then, they noticed that a security guard had started walking towards them.
“We need to leave,” Marisol said and grabbed his arm.
They quickly walked towards their cars.
“Just follow me,” Marisol had said before driving off. Parminter left behind her.
A few minutes later they had ended up at the roadhouse.
After they had sat down, Marisol had started talking about what she had been doing and her suspicions regarding Terry’s death.
“The book people warned me to stay away from there. They don’t like me poking into things. I’m a lawyer though and know my rights, but Terry said that these are not exactly above board people that he was dealing with.”
“What? Are they in the mafia or something?”
Marisol laughed and touched his arm. “No, they’re just very invested in making money and they don’t want anything to get in the way of that. This whole Nate Geralds thing was a big money maker for them and they want to make sure it still is. You were a writer. You know how it works.”
Parminter was struck by the fact that everything she said sounded like she was flirting, even though she obviously wasn’t. He would have to watch himself w
ith her otherwise he would get slapped. “How did you know I was writer?”
“I googled you.” She looked at him and smiled. “The thing is, I actually remember reading one of your articles a few years ago.”
“Which one?” Parminter asked. He had written hundreds about all number of subjects. It was one of the reasons he had been successful as a stock trader. He knew a little about a lot of stuff and found he could read the market fairly well.
“I think it was called, ‘The New Revelry.’ You know the one about the trend of middle-aged people starting to act like teenagers.”
“Yeah, throwing keggers, partying naked and vandalizing property. It was a pretty weird thing that was happening at the time.”
“It was very interesting in a slightly disturbing way. You’re a good writer.”
“Thanks.”
She looked away from him as though she was thinking about something. “Did people really do that stuff? It just seemed kind of crazy.”
Parminter remembered back to when he wrote the article. “It was actually worse. If I had included everything that was going on, a lot of people would have been arrested. People are capable of doing some very strange stuff if they get stressed enough and are given the right opportunities.”
“Wow. It’s too bad Terry wasn’t still in contact with you. You could have helped him with some of those leeches that were attached to him. Those people were rotten. ”
“But how did he get involved with them? I you don’t mind me asking.
“All I know is that quite a while back when he was modeling in New York, he met some people who started buying him things and paying for everything. About a year after that, he was Nate Geralds.”
“Wow, that’s a lot to take in. You said he told you stuff that he didn’t tell anyone else. What kinds of stuff?”
Marisol took a sip of her beer and bit into a French fry. “He told me that the whole thing was a put-on and that he was just a pawn. He felt like a fraud.”
Before she could go on, however, she noticed someone out of the corner of her eye.
“We need to stop talking about this.” She nodded at a man sitting in the corner. He wasn’t drinking and looked like he really didn’t belong in a place like that. He was dressed in a suit and definitely did not look local.
“I see.”
“Like I said, a lot of people have a lot of money to make off this. We have to be careful where we talk.”
* * * * *
After they had left the bar and they talked a little more, Parminter decided to get a motel room for the night. He had originally planned on driving back home after his visit with Terry’s parents, but his stay had been extended due to his meeting with Marisol. She told him where the better places to stay were then she left. They were to meet again the following morning.
The motel he decided to stay at was located in the newer part of town near a new strip mall. Since he hadn’t planned on an overnight stay, he hadn’t brought anything with him. After he checked into his room, he walked over to a nearby drugstore and bought a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouth wash, some beer, etc... All the stuff to make a stay in a somewhat new but somewhat rundown motel a little more comfortable.
After he made his purchases, he was walking back to the motel when he noticed a man sitting in a car on the other side of the parking lot. This car hadn’t been there when he had left. He made a mental note of the color and make and everything else he could discern in the dim light. He knew from experience that one never knew when such details might come in handy.
He kept walking and was almost to the stairs leading to his room when all of a sudden the car started and drove towards him. It made its way to where he was and parked in front of him. A man got out and Parminter braced himself for an altercation.
“Mr. Parminter.” the man said.
The voice sounded familiar and, as the man walked into the light, Parminter was able to recognize him. It was the private detective. Parminter was relieved.
“Hello, want to come in for a beer?” Parminter said for lack of better words.
“Well, you can probably tell I’m not a man to say no. Besides, we need to talk.”
* * * * *
They were sitting around the small, cheap, round table in the motel. It was sitting next to the window and was directly in front of the air conditioner. It was the exact same setup that Parminter had found in the many lower budget hotels he had stayed in.
“So, how did you find me?” Parminter asked after he handed the man a can of beer.
The private detective opened the can and took a long swig. It was if the beer was something his body required before he could get started. “Dufresne’s parents told me you went out to the grave. I figured the next stop for you would be the big house. The estate. This isn’t that big of a town so I just checked all the motels until I found your car.”
Parminter nodded. “You’re good.” He was reluctant to reveal that he had talked to Marisol or what she had told him. From his past experience, he learned that loose lips sank ships and for all he knew, this guy was playing both sides. As usual, the best course of action was just to keep his mouth shut.
The private detective took another long sip of the beer and leaned in. “Here’s the deal. The parents are glad that you showed up and talked to them. They wanted me to tell you that. However, they wanted me to let you know that this is just an investigation into whether or not he killed himself. Nothing more than that.”
Parminter nodded. “I understand that. It’s quite common. People are always shocked when one of their loved ones kills themselves. They want to know if they actually did it and why.”
“And they want to know that there wasn’t anything they could do to prevent it.”
“Closure,” Parminter said.
The private detective nodded and took a deep breath. “That’s what I’m getting to. They want you to know that they appreciate you being interested in Terry’s death, but they don’t want you to get involved in it or anything. They know all about the Raoul Goldman thing.”
Parminter sighed. “Well, I was sort of dragged into that.” He had played a major role in the investigation of the death of the jetsetting accountant.
“I understand. It’s just that they’re very fragile now and can’t handle anything more. They want you to back off and stop asking questions. They don’t want any more drama right now. Can you understand that?”
“I see. I was planning on leaving tomorrow anyway.”
The private detective smiled. “Just between you and me, aside from the fame angle, this is a pretty open and shut case. I mean, there might be some variables, but he did it. I mean some people just ain’t as happy or lucky as you and me.”
Parminter nodded and automatically knocked wood on the laminate table.
“You a superstitious man, Mr. Parminter?”
Parminter shook his head. “I don’t really believe in jinxes or tempting fate. However, I do believe in ironic twists. I don’t want to be one.”
The private detective burst out laughing. “I can certainly understand that. All that aside, the fact of the matter is that he definitely killed himself. I don’t think there could be any other way it could have happened.”
“I was kind of figuring that,” Parminter said, not really believing what he was saying. “It’s just that he was such a happy guy when I knew him. It’s just hard to believe.”
“Well, a lot has changed since then,” the private detective said.
Parminter couldn’t argue with that.
* * * * *
The next day, Parminter walked down to a cafe that was near his motel and waited for Marisol. He was going to tell her goodbye and what the private detective had told him before he left. While he still had a lot of unanswered questions, he really didn’t want to cause the family any more grief than what they were already dealing with.
He had just ordered a cup of coffee and sausage biscuit when she walked in. She looked haggard, like she hadn
’t been sleeping.
Parminter stood up while she sat down. She ordered coffee.
“John, I just want to thank you for your interest in this.”
“Well, while I hadn’t spoken to Terry in a long time, I still considered him a friend. He was a good guy.”
“I know.” She was silent while the waitress brought them their coffee. Once the waitress was gone, she said, “It’s just that...”
“Just that what...?”
“Sometimes, I think that I’m just wasting my time with this. I know that deep in my heart of hearts that he killed himself. It’s just that I...”
“That you don’t want to accept that he did it?”
“Exactly. It’s like I’m looking for a way to excuse myself from it. To let myself off the hook.”
“To assure yourself that there was nothing you could have done?”
“Yes.”
“I understand and I would want the same thing.” Parminter said.
Marisol smiled. “It’s just that I don’t want you to keep wasting your time. I know you’re busy.”
“The private detective told me the same thing last night.”
“Really?”
“He said that I was bothering your parents by asking questions. That they just wanted to have time to grieve and move on.”
“I think I do, too.”
Parminter considered his words. “I am going to leave soon. I’m not a detective or anything. I just used to be a writer and wanted to satisfy my curiosity about the situation.”
“I can see that. I guess I can understand where you’re coming from. You knew Terry as one thing and when you find out he’s something different, it piques your interest. It would mine anyway.”
Parminter took a sip of his coffee. “It’s just that it’s such a weird story. The whole thing just doesn’t seem right somehow,” Parminter said. “But I just can’t put my finger on why.”
“I know, it’s weird. It just wasn’t like Terry to do something like this. It’s the part I’m just now starting to come to grips with.”
False Words Page 3
