by Phil Edwards
He had to get through the living room, but he didn’t have a lot of time to do it. He shoved his hands underneath couch cushions but didn’t even find coins. He looked through all the other drawers and behind all the cabinets. Nothing. Where would Charlotte Ward have put the information? He thought for a second. Why didn’t Abram know where she had put it?
He looked to the side wall and saw a series of photographs. Pictures of Charlotte’s husband and family. The one thing that she and Abram probably hadn’t talked about—the one secret. He pulled one down off the wall and looked at the back. Nothing taped there. He looked at the front quickly. He’d been a tall man. Thin. An open smile on his face. Not the way that Jake thought of Abram. Maybe she’d wanted a change. He looked at the man’s face again and hung the picture back on its nail.
He went through them all from right to left. It started with the wedding photos, both people impossible to recognize. Nothing on the back. No documents. Then he went on to the honeymoon photograph. A woman with sun shining on her face, her identity only recognizable in the distance between her eyes, or the way they turned down at the corners. She seemed to be laughing while their picture was being taken; her husband seemed to be practicing putting his hand on her bare shoulder. There was nothing on the back.
They had lived somewhere colder. The next picture showed a child celebrating her first Christmas, with Charlotte’s hands covering her ears. The back was blank. He ran his hand over her face while she was laughing, somewhere in her thirties, holding a sign that he couldn’t read. Her husband was in the background holding another. He could make out the word “election” on the bottom, but the word on top was out of focus. He turned it over. Nothing.
Then he went forward. The daughter graduating from something. High school or college. Then less pictures with her, except for the one of her wedding. She looked like her mother when she wore white. Then the husband getting older. He didn’t bother taking the picture down again. There was one last one of Charlotte, behind the sign for Sunset Cove. She was smiling again, leaning over the sign or her walker, looking just to the right of the camera. He took it down. Nothing.
He’d gone through her life, but he hadn’t gotten what he needed. He needed to know what she’d found, not how she’d lived. He didn’t have time for anything else. Where could he look where Abram hadn’t been? What could he find that Abram hadn’t seen?
Then he heard it. His time was already up. He heard footsteps coming down the hall and people talking. Mel’s voice was the loudest and her voice carried through the thin doors and walls.
“So we’ll just go right inside the apartment. We’re going inside now.”
She was warning him. Did it matter? Maybe there wasn’t anything anyway. Charlotte Ward was just a woman who thought she’d found something. Maybe her work was nothing more than a desperate guess. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter now. He heard a key jiggle in the lock. Now he had to hide. He hadn’t found Charlotte’s information, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t find him.
CHAPTER 37:
“Did you hear that? I heard something.”
A woman’s voice, sounding panicked.
“Did I hear what?” Mel asked.
“A door shutting. I could have sworn I heard a slamming sound. Didn’t you?”
Jake was breathing heavily inside the small coat closet. He kept his hand on the door knob and felt the metal warm underneath his palm. The daughter had a nasal voice. She was either sophisticated or congested. Then he heard the husband’s voice, muffled by the door.
“I didn’t hear anything, Claire.” Thank God. “You imagine things sometimes.”
Jake leaned against a full row of coats. Why had Charlotte brought coats to Florida? It didn’t matter now. All he knew was that it was hot. Some of the coats were wool. He started to feel a tingling in his throat. He covered his mouth and listened.
“It’s really very nice,” the daughter, Claire, said.
“It is.”
“It’s one of our better units,” Mel told her. “And Charlotte, obviously, kept it in very good condition.”
Jake wiped his forehead. He was starting to feel itchy. He breathed in but couldn’t inhale as deeply as he wanted. All the wool. Who knew how much dust there was in an unused coat closet? He scratched his throat with his thumb and a single finger.
“Mom always came up to see us. And for the funeral, of course, she came to us too. She wanted to be buried next to dad. So we never even got to come down here and learn about what she was like as a Sarasotan. Was she active?”
Once they saw Abram’s photographs in the bedroom, they’d find out just how active she was.
“She was just a kind woman,” Mel said. Jake smiled, barely. He realized he didn’t really know if it was true. She’d shown a flash of every trait when they’d spoke, but he didn’t know which one was really her. Now he just knew about the medication, the pictures, and the information that he was missing.
“This is nice,” the man said.
“Dad made that. Mom loved it. We had so many of them around the house.”
“Were they all ducks?”
Jake nodded. They were talking about the duck Charlotte’s husband had made.
“No no,” the woman said. “We had all different animals. I designed them and dad made them. But even before she moved here, mom loved water animals. Do you remember when she showed us her photo album?”
“Of course.”
“So many pictures.”
Jake knew Charlotte had loved animals and the wetlands. Yet she spent her last days alive investigating a group that was trying to save them. It didn’t make sense. He shifted his feet and inhaled. Dust. His eyes started to water. He scratched his throat. They were too close for him to even think about coughing. But he wasn’t sure if he could hold it in.
“Are you thinking about reselling?” Mel asked.
“Of course. We don’t have anyone else who could take it.”
“Off the record, I’d encourage you to act soon. The market here is heating up so quickly. Everyone is scrambling to develop.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes. Of course, if the Development Proposition vote goes the other way, there won’t be a need to hurry.”
“What’s that?” the woman asked. Her voice seemed softer and more tired.
“It determines whether or not developers can build on some areas that are near or on the wetlands. So if development is allowed, it might drive down prices.”
“Would it happen quickly enough to affect us?”
“Mr. Rothschild works very quickly. But I shouldn’t even be saying this. He’d hate for me to talk business.”
They all laughed weakly. Jake wanted to cough. Then he breathed in too quickly. His lungs filled with dust, lint, and wool. He was going to sneeze.
“What’s over here?” the man said. “Is this another room?”
Step by step, Jake heard the man approach the small coat closet. He pressed his finger under his nose. He had to stop the sneeze. He winced and ducked back into the coats as far as he could, but his body still stuck out. The knob began to turn underneath his hand.
“Look!” Mel shouted.
The knob stopped.
“What’s up?” the man said. The knob stayed still.
“Look at that!”
Silence. The man laughed.
“That what? What did you want me to look at?”
“The refrigerator. It…has an icemaker.”
“That’s very nice,” the woman said. Jake heard them walk further away. The voices receded and Jake wiped his sweaty hand onto his pants.
“Can I answer any other questions?”
He lifted his finger from his nose. He was fine. For now. He felt his eyes begin to water. He couldn’t stay in the closet much longer. He started to itch everywhere, and he didn’t want to guess how he smelled. After a long pause, the woman spoke again.
“Thank you for your help. You’ve really done more than
you need to.”
“Well, I miss Charlotte.”
“Still. You must be used to this sort of thing.” The man, practicing sounding stoic.
“No. I really don’t get used to it. Charlotte was a sweet person.”
Silence. Jake shifted again. He heard himself wheeze. Hopefully the door was thick enough to muffle it.
“Do you hear something?” the woman asked.
Or it wasn’t thick enough. He held his breath again and waited.
“Claire, you’re hearing things.”
“It’s probably the air conditioning.”
Jake exhaled, slowly. The air came out silently. He kept his hand on the knob.
“So once we leave, we are going to make it official and change the locks.”
“Would you want another day or two?”
She was trying to buy him time.
“No, we’ll do it as soon as possible.”
She couldn’t get it.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I have to be back at work tomorrow, so I’m afraid it’s a short trip. And Claire is going to come back in a few weeks.”
“I see.” She’d tried at least. “When we leave, I’ll have Javier come and switch the locks.”
“Great.”
“I have a work thing, but we’d just like to formally take possession.” The woman sounded tired again. “I want to get everything cleared up here.”
“That’s fine,” Mel said. He heard her sigh, even through the door. “I’m sorry you have to go through it.”
“It’s OK. I knew I’d have to.”
“Still.”
The group was quiet and Jake realized his phone was on. He took it out of the back pocket of his running shorts. Everything else spilled out on the floor. Naturally. He inhaled and tried to hold his breath.
“I heard another noise.”
“Chimes.” Mel said. “Should I show you the bedroom?”
Saved. This was it. This was his only chance to get out. But he hadn’t found what Charlotte had discovered. He exhaled. This was where it ended. Finding nothing. Just breathing in some dust and looking at some pictures. Whatever Charlotte had found about the Saving Tomorrow Initiative, she had hid it too well.
He stooped down and picked up the keys. He put them in his back pocket. Then he picked up his wallet. He didn’t understand. What else was there that Abram wouldn’t have known about? He’d looked at every picture. Gone through every drawer. There had to be an answer somewhere. But he didn’t know how to find it.
Footsteps. The sound of a door opening. He couldn’t be sure that they had all entered the room. Then Mel gave him some help.
“Good, we’re all in,” she shouted. She was a good accomplice.
As he put his wallet back into his pocket, he noticed a piece of cardboard sticking out. In the darkness he couldn’t tell what it was, so he drew it out. Cardboard and thin colored plastic. He’d forgotten about them: the 3-D glasses Gary gave him. He put them back in the wallet and shoved it in his pocket. Then he almost screamed.
3-D. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He’d looked at the backs of pictures. But he hadn’t thought about looking on the inside. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and stifled one last cough. 3-D. It made perfect sense. He opened the closet door and started running to the hallway.
As he ran, he dropped down his right hand. He opened the doorknob with his left and didn’t break his stride. With his right hand he grabbed the neck of Charlotte’s wooden duck. He picked the duck up and clutched it close to the sweat stain on his chest. He pulled the door shut behind him and kept running until he reached his car.
CHAPTER 38:
He waited until he was in his apartment building’s parking lot before he tried anything, since he couldn’t be caught in Sunset Cove handling a former resident’s possessions. He drove as quickly as he could, the duck in the passenger seat of the car, wobbling slightly with every turn.
It was painted dark green and had an orange bill. He looked over and saw the long neck teeter under the movement of the head, the duck staying upright thanks to the balance of the wide base. He watched Sunset Cove, then the Palmstead, sink under the horizon as he drove along the highway. He was still breathing deep, even though he’d finished running hours before. He wondered how high his pulse was after a day like this.
He called Mel as he drove. He knew they wouldn’t be able to talk long, even though he wanted to. She answered after one ring.
“Did you make it?”
“Yeah. Barely. Thanks to you.”
“Did you find anything?”
“I don’t know yet. But I think I did.”
He was closer to his apartment and pulled down the off-ramp.
“I want to see you next time.”
“What about tomorrow? I can show you what I found. If I found anything.”
“I can’t.” She paused. “Oh wait, I can. I thought I had something, but I don’t.”
“What?”
“We normally have movie night then. But Sheryl is changing her second bridge night this week. So the common room is full.”
“Second bridge night?”
“They play twice a week now.”
“So you’re free?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see you then.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’ll need it.”
He got to his building and sped into a parking space. He pulled on the tight neck of his t-shirt and opened the windows as he idled. No one else was in the lot—it was just him and empty cars. He unbuckled himself, then he released the duck and set it on his lap. He turned it over to the bottom. He read the neat loops of cursive, ones that he recognized from the letters he’d found.
“From Patrick to Charlotte, 1974.”
He traced over the writing with his hand. Her husband had been able to carve inside of things, he remembered Charlotte telling him. The only problem was figuring out how to open it. He looked around the base of the duck. There weren’t any obvious holes or doors. Just the writing. But at the bottom of the neck he noticed a thin black line.
He grabbed the bill on the duck’s head and started to jiggle it. When he pulled up and down it didn’t give. Then he pushed it right. It twitched. Then left. The neck began to turn all the way around, and the duck’s head revolved around its body. He kept turning, and like a screw it unwound from the base.
Papers fell out as he pulled the head away. They were rolled up tight and bound by a thin rubber band. Whatever Charlotte had, he’d found it. He peeled off the rubber band and the sound twanged inside the car. He unrolled the pages and placed them on his lap.
The first one was predictable. A bridge schedule for the past three months. He knew that Charlotte would try to tie it back to bridge. Now that he’d found it, it all seemed a little sadder. He looked. It was a schedule for the week—the days Sheryl had slighted her. Monday and Thursday she played in the common room. Charlotte had marked both of them with an X. Jake didn’t want to look at it long. He wanted to get to what she’d found—not what she’d imagined. There was a real conspiracy behind the one she was obsessed with. It was called the Saving Tomorrow Initiative.
He found them on the next page. It was a call log. She’d written down a phone number and a series of times and dates next to it. She’d been calling, trying to find out their agenda. Each time, the log read “no answer,” except for the last call.
Reached Initiative. I talked to a man. He said to stop calling. I asked him why. He said he knew who I was. I said I knew who he was too. He hung up on me. Will research more…
She made the call the day before she died. Seeing the three dots in a line chilled him. They were like goose bumps on the page. Why wasn’t there more? He turned the paper over.
She’d recorded everything she’d tried to find out about the Initiative. The problem was that she hadn’t found much. Apparently, the group was less than a year old. She couldn’t get any financial infor
mation. The articles of incorporation listed a P.O. Box outside Sarasota as the address. A dead end. They weren’t in any charitable directories or listings. All she’d found was that phone number and whoever was on the other end of the line. And then they’d found her.
Jake took out his phone and impulsively turned it on. He saw his thumb shake as he pressed each number. Area code. Then three more. He looked at the paper—Charlotte had last called the day before she died. Four more digits. It started to ring. Again. Then a click. Was that it?
A recording played.
“You have reached the Saving Tomorrow Initiative.” It was the voice of the woman from the commercial. “Please vote against the Development Proposition. Humans must learn their place. If they don’t, we will show them. This war is just beginning.”
A beep. He clamped the phone shut. He wasn’t ready to leave a message when it was a matter of life and death. There was only one other page left. He unrolled it and flattened it on his lap. It was just a series of questions. Some had checkmarks next to them. Some didn’t.
Why did Sheryl keep me out of bridge?
She didn’t know. But he did. Abram.
How can I get back in?
Checked. He sighed. More bridge.
What is the Saving Tomorrow Initiative?
Checked.
What do they do?
Checked.
How are they funded?
Checked.
How do they connect to Sheryl?
There were wrinkles in the page, but it was checked. She knew a lot more than he did, and she’d even figured out the connection, if there was one. If only she’d written it down. Jake was sweating as he read the last three questions. It was a cold sweat.
Why am I being threatened?
