All Things Lost

by Josh Aterovis

That caught her attention. Her eyes widened in fear and she looked around the store as if she was looking for the nearest exit.

  “Mrs. Cohen, it's important that we speak to you about your husband and son.”

  “Who the hell are you?” she hissed.

  “We're private investigators working on behalf of your son.”

  She looked confused now. “Caleb hired you? Why? To find me?”

  “No, Caleb believes you are dead. That's what his father told him.”

  Rachel turned deathly pale and for a moment, I thought she was going to pass out. “I…I guess that's better than the truth; that I just up and left him.”

  “Mrs. Cohen…”

  “Please call me Ms. Shannon. I haven't been Mrs. Cohen in a very long time and I don't intend to start again now.”

  “Ok, Ms. Shannon, are you aware of the fact that Ira Cohen is dead?”

  Her eyes flew open wide again, “No, I had no idea.”

  “Don't you watch the news?”

  “No, I don't. And why would Ira's death make the news. He was a narrow-minded, mean, son-of-a…” She faded out as she seemed to remember where she was. The only other customer in the store was an elderly Asian gentleman who was fondling the tomatoes. He wasn't paying any attention to us.

  “Ira was murdered.”

  Once again, she looked surprised at first but then a funny little smile played at the corner of her mouth. “Can't say it surprises me all that much, really,” she said, “After all, I never understood why someone hadn't killed him long before now.”

  “The police have arrested Caleb for the murder,” Novak added, watching her face carefully.

  For a second I thought she hadn't heard him, then she said, “Did he do it?”

  “That's what we're trying to find out, ma'am.”

  She looked around the store again. “Do you think we could talk about this later, after I get off?”

  “At your apartment? We know where it is.”

  “You do?” she asked with some alarm.

  “We're PI's, remember? We're paid to know things like that.”

  “Fine, I get off at six, come by around six-thirty. I'll talk to you then.”

  “How do I know you'll be there?”

  “I will be.”

  “Make sure you are or we just may have to call the police.”

  It was obvious from her expression that was not what she wanted. Novak produced a card and handed it to her.

  “That has my cell phone number on it; if something comes up, make sure you call us on it.”

  He turned and left and I trailed out after him.

  “Do you really trust her?” I asked him as soon as we were outside.

  “Not a bit,” he said without hesitation. “That's why we're going to pull a stakeout.”

  “My first stakeout!” I said excitedly.

  “Yeah, be enthusiastic now because you'll be bored senseless by the end of it.”

  “Where are we going to be? Are we getting the car?”

  “No, we don't need the car, in the city that would be more obvious that not. Let's see what we have around here.”

  We ended up parked at a small restaurant across the street that had a shaded outdoor deck with a great view of the store. Novak settled in with several newspapers and told me to keep an eye on the store.

  Several hours later, after Novak had drank about a pot of coffee and I'd had more soda than anyone should ever drink in one afternoon, not to mention more than one dirty look from the waiter, Rachel finally emerged from the store. I glanced at my watch. She was early, thank God. It was only three o'clock.

  “She's on the move,” I told Novak. He lowered the paper he was reading, the fifth since we'd sat down and I'm pretty sure he's been asleep some of that time, and looked at me.

  “On the move, huh? You really watch too many movies.”

  He dropped the paper on the table along with enough cash to cover our beverage bills and a generous top and we slipped out a safe distance behind Rachel. She was moving quickly and darting glances all around her. She didn't seem to notice though. She ran directly back to her apartment building, let herself in and shut the door behind her.

  “I think she was trying to get the jump on us,” Novak mused thoughtfully.

  “But you threatened her with the police.”

  “If she was gone with a two hour head start there isn't much they could do. Especially seeing as how she hasn't really done anything wrong so they wouldn't really be interested in her anyway. I was just hoping to scare her into cooperating.”

  “It doesn't look like it worked.”

  “Thank you for that astute observation.”

  He walked over the call buttons and pushed the one next to Rachel's.

  “Hello,” came the thin voice of the old woman we had talked to earlier.

  “Hello, ma'am,” Novak answered. “We talked earlier; I'm the friend of Rachel Shannon's? We missed her at work because we decided to run out and get her a gift and it seems she got off early. We'd really like to surprise her so do you think you could buzz us in?”

  “I don't know…”

  “It would really mean a lot.”

  Her sigh was audible even over the intercom, but the door buzzed and there was a loud click as the lock disengaged.

  “Thank you,” he called out as he caught the door and we slipped in. We took the stairs up to Rachel's floor since the elevator didn't exactly inspire confidence. We found Rachel's door and Novak knocked loudly.

  After a few seconds, Rachel's voice came from the other side of the door. “Who's there?”

  “It's Shane Novak, Ms. Shannon. We spoke earlier. I think you'd better open the door.”

  There was a long pause and then the sound of a safety chain being slid open and a deadbolt being turned. The door opened to reveal a very frightened looking Rachel Shannon, nee Cohen.

  “May we come in?” Novak asked.

  She gave a helpless shrug and stepped back to allow us in. The apartment was small and spartanly furnished. I suspected the furniture came with the rooms and there was almost no personal effects to make it look lived in. In fact, it looked like a model apartment, one that might be shown to prospective renters. Then I noticed a cardboard box sitting on the floor in front of the sofa with several items tossed haphazardly into it. Ms. Shannon had been packing.

  I looked over at Novak and saw that he had also noticed the box.

  “Were you leaving before we had our talk, Rachel?” he said softly.

  She shrugged again.

  “You've kept things light so it would be easy to move on at a moments notice. How many times did you move before you became complacent and settled in here?”

  “Look, I don't know why you are looking for me. I haven't seen Ira or Caleb since Caleb was just a toddler. They are a part of my past, I did what I had to do and it's behind me.”

  “Is it?” I said, startling both Novak and Rachel with the edge in my voice. I hadn't spoken once in her presence but suddenly I found myself furious. “I wouldn't have thought it would be that easy to forget your own child like that, the child you abandoned to a life of abuse and misery.”

  Rachel looked as if she had been slapped and Novak looked like he wanted to slap me. Rachel responded first.

  “It wasn't like that. You weren't there; you couldn't know what it was like. He beat me every day. I knew he would kill me if I didn't leave. He'd never laid a hand on Caleb. I didn't think I could support him and me, I thought it would be better for him if I left him behind. I didn't know Ira would hurt him too.”

  “Easier for him or easier for you?”

  “Enough,” Novak interrupted sharply. “This isn't why we are here.”

  “Why are you here?” Rachel asked suddenly on the offensive.

  “The better question is: why were you running? What do you have to hide?”

  “I wasn't running.”

  “Then why the sudden packing?”

  “I-you don't k
now what it's like to live in constant fear of your life. To never know if he's going to find you and...and…kill you.”

  “We told you he's dead, you shouldn't have to worry about that anymore.”

  “How do I know you are telling the truth? Maybe he hired you to find me.”

  While they were talking I had walked over to the box and glanced into it. Lying near the top, partly hidden by an old photo of a little boy I assumed to be Caleb, was an newspaper clipping. The headline read: “Local Boy Accused of Killing Father.”

  I bent over and picked it up.

  “Or maybe you'd like to try again,” I said as I held up the article.

  Chapter 21

  For a moment, I didn't think Rachel would react. She seemed frozen in place, her eyes fastened on the piece of newsprint in my hand. Then all at once it was like she swung into action. She spun around and shoved Novak roughly in the chest with both hands. He stumbled backwards in surprise as she made a dash for the door.

  Luckily, I realized what she was doing and with a maneuver I was pretty proud of, I leaped over the couch and threw myself in her path. We collided at full speed and went down in a tangle of arms and legs. My breath was knocked out of me and I lay helplessly gasping as she scrambled to her feet and started for the door again.

  Novak had recovered himself by this time and simply stepped in front of the door, effectively barring her way since he was so much larger than she was.

  “Now is that any way to treat your guests?” Novak said lightly. “Why don't we all have a seat and talk about that article you found interesting enough to cut out and why you chose to lie to us about it.”

  “It's none of your damn business,” she snarled, “Let me go. You can't hold me here against my will.”

  “No, but I can make a citizen's arrest. If you're going to be that recalcitrant it may be our only option. Killian, why don't you call 911 and see if we can't get a police officer by here?”

  “No!” she barked before I even had time to stand up. “Don't get the police involved.”

  “Then tell us what's going on, Rachel. What are you so scared of?”

  She turned around and walked slowly around the couch, where she lowered herself down carefully. “I knew what Ira had told Caleb, that I was dead. Do you have any idea what it's like to feel like your only chance to live is to leave your only child with a monster? I didn't want to lose him altogether, I never intended that. I wanted to see him, have visitation rights. I tried to leave Ira several times before I left him for good. The last time he beat me so badly I almost died. He told me that if I left him again I'd better never come back and that I would be dead as far as he was concerned. And if I did come back that he would make sure I was really was dead.

  “I stayed a couple more months before it got to be too much. I had to get out of there once and for all. My aunt helped me set things up; new ID, new look, clothes, money, everything. It had to be a clean break. So I disappeared. I kept tabs on Caleb, though, mostly through my aunt. I knew he was doing well in school, I also knew that he thought I was dead. I thought it was best if I didn't confuse him by suddenly just appearing.”

  “Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “How could you possibly think that it would be better for Caleb if he thought you were dead?”

  “It's better than knowing I abandoned him, isn't it?” I wasn't sure so I said nothing. She went on, “When I started noticing the signs of abuse I was terrified. I felt so helpless. I called social services a few times, but nothing ever came of it.”

  “So you decided to take matters into your own hands?” Novak asked.

  “What do you…Oh! No! I did not kill Ira. Maybe I should have, but I didn't. And I refuse to think that Caleb did it either.”

  “Why is that so hard to believe?” Novak argued, “You felt helpless and trapped and in fear for your life with Ira and you're an adult. Imagine being a child in the same situation. Maybe the only way he could see to escape was to kill him.”

  Tears were rolling down her cheeks now. “What do you want with me? Why are you here? If you really think I killed Ira you would have called the police by now.”

  “We don't know if you did or didn't kill anyone. That's why we're here. Can you prove that you didn't kill Ira?”

  “How would I do that?”

  “Where were you when he was killed?”

  “I was…” She stopped and thought for a few seconds. “I guess I was at work.”

  “Do you have a time card or anything that could prove that?”

  “Yes or my boss would.”

  “We'll be checking on that.”

  “Are you done with me now?”

  “I think so. It would be a good idea if you stayed put though, we may need to get in touch with you again and if we do I want to be able to find you without hunting you down. If we can't find you then we will contact the police and tell them you should be considered a suspect.”

  She blanched slightly. “I won't go anywhere.”

  “That's what you said before.”

  “I won't. I swear.”

  “I think you should talk to Caleb,” I inserted, “He deserves to know the truth.”

  “What good could it do now?” she asked wearily.

  “It could do a world of good,” Novak said softly.

  She looked back and forth between us then tipped her head back and closed her eyes.

  “He could really use someone right now,” I pressed.

  “Just go, please.”

  “But Caleb…”

  “I'll think about, ok? Just leave me alone.”

  Novak motioned me for the door and I reluctantly followed him out. I didn't say anything until we were down on the street again.

  “She won't see him will she?” I observed sadly.

  “No, I don't believe she will,” Novak agreed.

  “He deserves to know he has a mother and she's alive.”

  “I thought you didn't even like this kid.”

  “I don't, not really. It's just that…”

  “It's ok, kiddo; you don't have to explain anything to me.”

  “But I want to. I don't even know if I really understand it though.”

  “Then forget about it.”

  We drove back to the hotel and decided that since we'd gotten all our work done early we would go do a little sight-seeing. I'd only been to Washington a couple times and I was mainly at the Smithsonian those times. The mall was beautiful, the monuments and the white house. When the sun set and the lights came on it was almost magical. I slept like a baby that night and we set off for home early the next morning. When we got back Novak told me to take the rest of the day off and we'd start again on the next day.

  I left but I found I couldn't leave the case at the office. It was all I could think about, especially this mysterious Finnegan Byrne. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore. I signed onto AOL and went to the White Pages. I looked up all the Byrne's in the area; there were a dozen. Great. Nothing is ever easy, but then again, at least he wasn't a Smith.

  I picked up the phone and started dialing. Eight calls later I hit pay dirt. When I asked if Finnegan was there I got a “Not right now, can I take a message?” instead of my usual “You have the wrong number.” I was so surprised to actually find the right number that I couldn't think of what to say at first and they had to ask a second time.

  “Um, uh, no that's, uh, ok,” I stammered out. “Do you know when he'll be home?”

  “That's like asking if I know when the winds gonna blow,” the gruff voice on the other end of the line said, “He comes home when he comes home. Are you sure you don't want to leave a message?”

  “No, I don't think so.”

  “Just as well, he never answers them anyway.”

  “Then why do you ask?”

  “It usually makes those calling feel a little better.”

  “Does he have a job?”

  “Finnegan?” they laughed. “No, he's probably at the beach or off practicing the
bagpipes. I make him go far enough away that I can't hear him. There're plenty of wide open spaces for him to make as much racket as he wants around here without driving his mother and I insane.”

  It took all I had not to repeat the word bagpipes. Who on God's green earth plays the bagpipes? It was beginning to sound like Olivia's diagnosis of eccentricity was right on the money.

  “I'll call back later,” I said distractedly.

  “Try around six o'clock. That's when we usually eat dinner and the boy seldom misses a meal.”

  “Alright, thank you.”

  I hung up thinking about Finnegan. He sounded like a very interesting person. I was both eager and apprehensive about meeting him.

  * * *

  It turned out I didn't have to call him back; he called me later that afternoon.

  “Hello, this is Finnegan Byrne,” he said when I answered the phone. “You called here earlier today and I wasn't available. I was just wondering why you called me. May I ask who you are?”

  “How did you get my number?” I asked feeling extremely confused, “I didn't leave a message.”

  “I know; that's why I called you back. If you had left a message I wouldn't have. We have caller ID. Is this Adam Connelly?”

  “No, this is Killian Kendall. I work for a private investigator. I was wondering if there was any chance we could get together and talk about Caleb Cohen.”

  “Caleb? What about him?”

  “Do you think we could meet and talk in person? I'd rather do it that way then over the phone.”

  “Sure, no problem. When's a good time for you?”

  “Anytime is fine with me, I'm off today. When would be a good time for you?”

  “How about now?”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah, I'm just sitting here at home doing nothing.”

  “Ok, can you give me directions?”

  He could and he did.

  “I should be there in about fifteen minutes,” I told him when he'd finished.

  “Great, that'll give me time to get dressed,” he said.

  I hung up once again wondering just what I was getting myself into.

  The Byrne house was fairly easy to find. It was just out of town in the general direction of the area the Cohen's had lived. The Byrne's lived in a large old two-storied farm house painted white with green trim. It was well kept and the large yard was meticulously maintained as well.