“What’s the position, Sir?”
“The head of your department.”
Instead of accepting the offer with gratitude, Abby gave him a confused stare. “But isn’t that Margret’s job, Sir?”
“No. That used to be her job.” The old doctor smiled again. They left the elevator and crossed the bustling floor. He elaborated on his proposal. “I don’t know if Margret ever shared with you, but for some time now she’s been wanting to transfer to USC Medical Center in Los Angeles. Her wishes finally came true two days ago and she had to make her move immediately.”
This was a first for Abby. Margret had never mentioned anything about USC or moving closer to the southern border. Unconsciously, Abby sighed loudly. This added another layer to the mystery brewing in her head.
“Are you alright, dear?”
“Yes, Doctor Phillips, I’m fine, Sir. I’m just overwhelmed by your proposal.”
“Well that’s good. Talk it over with that fiancé of yours and accept the offer soon. I’m sure there are wedding bells in your near future, and the increase in pay will be a great benefit. The sooner you make this decision the better for you and your family, and the sooner we can move along with our work.”
“Yes, Sir. I will definitely talk to him tonight and let you know shortly.”
Chapter 6
San Francisco, America
The next day Melvin sat behind his desk repeating to himself, “Not all rain causes flooding, and not all thunder produces lightning. But, Melvin, this case has it all, so prepare yourself for the fighting.”
He honestly didn’t know what to make of this living-or-dead Damian Andrews case. He may be fooling himself into believing there was a big conspiracy about something that was probably nothing. He was already referring to the damn mystery as a case. A case with a whole lot of giant holes in it. A case that already had his mind in deep turd. He couldn’t think straight. When he was at work he couldn’t focus, and when he was at home he was on the computer researching leads. Last night he had battled with Tania’s invisible horns again. She had finally told him, “I can’t wait until Monday when you go back to the old man’s house and put an end to these shenanigans once you learn he’s alive and well.”
Not wanting to argue with her anymore, he left the back and forth bickering alone for the moment, but deep down inside he knew this was not totally done for him yet. Even if Mr. Andrews was alive and well and the case was closed, as Abby said there was still the question of who called in sick on behalf of Miss Davis, and for what purpose?
Melvin snapped out of his thoughts when his office phone rang. All day he had been anticipating this call, the call that would finally clarify whether there was a way to trace who had requested those days off for Barbra. After he said his anxious, “Hello!” his excitement disappeared and was replaced with curiosity. A minute later he hung up with, “Yes, Sir, I will be there right now!” Melvin hurried from his office. What could the captain want? It was almost the end of his shift, and usually the captain was gone by now, so his staying late and calling him in only ten minutes before it was time to go home to Tania’s good loving was strange.
“Come in,” the captain ordered after the second knock. As soon as Melvin opened the door, his eyes froze and his heart stopped, as if he had walked into an ambush behind enemy lines again. Only this time Jack was not there to push him out of the line of fire. “Detective, this is Mr. Damian Andrews,” the captain fired off the cold introduction.
Melvin stared at the silver-haired old billionaire from Pacific Heights who was sitting straight with his shoulders back, with one of his black-uniformed guards next to him. “Mr. Andrews was informed that there were claims of his being dead or hurt. These rumors worried him to the point that he had to cut his vacation short and rush back early to figure out what’s going on. Do you have anything to add to this?”
Melvin didn’t reply to the captain’s fiery words and continued staring at the six eyes burning a hole through him. With no shields to protect him from the combination of fiery stares coming at him from every angle, he decided honesty was the best offense for surviving this situation and confessed to everything, from the beginning to the end.
“So, Detective, are you telling me this doctor friend of yours, Abby, was supposed to do an autopsy on my body at the Memorial Hospital, but my dead corpse somehow disappeared into thin air?” The old, silver-haired billionaire finally spoke angrily with an Eastern European accent once Melvin finished with his naive explanation.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Oh, Detective, I wish you had told my men your wild story before I ruined my vacation and worried myself sick for the last two days.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Andrews,” the square-faced captain cut back in again from behind his desk. “I’m sure this was some form of misunderstanding, and I can guarantee this will never occur again. Right?”
All six eyes went back to Melvin as if he was the no-good dirty pig who was responsible for causing all this mess and he needed to apologize. Sitting there quietly, he cursed Jack in his head over and over again for placing him in this awkward predicament and finally said his sorries to the silver-haired billionaire not once, but a few more rounds after that.
“Good,” the old man said, feeling pleased, and got to his feet for his departure. “You know, our taxpayers’ money should be going towards fighting real crimes, not wasting time on stories concocted by a delusional doctor. Just to make this clear once and for all, Captain, I want this harassment to stop immediately. Or else I will be forced to take the direct approach and speak to the chief of police and the mayor himself. Both of them happen to be close personal friends of mine.”
With those words the old man marched out of the room with his black-uniformed guard behind him, leaving the two men alone. It took a few seconds for the invisible power of the old man to completely drain from the air. The captain sighed and sliced through whatever energy lingered and asked in a sharp, concerned tone, “So tell me what’s really going on, Pig?”
“Nothing, Captain. It’s exactly as I said.”
“Are you sure you are not having any PTSD issues from Iraq? Because if you are, we have some of the best psychiatrists working for the department and you could take off all the days you need to clear up all your little glitches.”
“No, Sir, I can guarantee you I’m feeling great. It’s exactly as I said, Sir. My military buddy Jack’s fiancée, Abby, works at the hospital and she swore Mr. Andrews was dead and his body went missing. She even described him as the silver-haired man and remembered part of his address, which turned out to be accurate.”
“This Jack fellow, is he the same one that a few years back got you guys tossed in jail in Mexico and China due to the crazy actions of the same fiancée, and your father-in-law had to go bail your butts out?
“Yeah.” Melvin sighed at the unpleasant memories.
“I think, Detective, you should stay away from this Jack and his troublemaker fiancée.”
“I know, Sir. My wife tells me the same thing.”
“Well, your wife is a very wise woman, and if I were you I would listen to her.”
After a good round of laughter between the two lawmen, the captain changed the subject and came back to real police business. “So what’s this I’m hearing about you asking for Miss Davis? Is this some particular case you’re working on?”
“Well no, Sir. I was trying to see if she had taken Mr. Andrews’ 911 dispatch call, since there were no records of his death. So when she didn’t show up for two days, I went to her house. Her mother informed me that Miss Davis had had an unfortunate accident and was in a coma. When she revealed that she hadn’t called the department on behalf of her daughter to request the days off, I wondered who did and why.”
“Well, Detective, I’m also sorry about Miss Davis’ accident, but I need you to stay focused on the real cases that are sitting on your desk. Let this go and get your head back in the game. I can see it in your eyes, Pig, and
you look like you are in La-La Land, living a different life. Go home, enjoy your family, and, most importantly, take your wife's advice for your own sake and forget about all this craziness, do you hear me?”
Chapter 7
New York, America
“Come on, Mr. Andrews, this way please,” the black-uniformed guard said, coming out the seventh-floor elevator in New York City.
The old silver-haired billionaire walked out behind him and made a left in the long, narrow hall. The soles of his two-thousand-dollar Berluti Italian leather shoes echoed on the empty marble floors as he made his way towards the single wide door at the end of the hall. One of the two armed guards that were posted on each side of the oak door greeted him with a silent nod of the head and opened the door for him.
Once the door closed behind him, from fifty yards away a chubby man’s voice echoed promptly. “Oh my dear Mr. Andrews, I’m so glad that you finally made it. Come, come!”
With a straight face, the old man approached the short, chubby man, standing with his guests seated around him. On the way he scanned the dozen or more faces behind the large, oval table that were staring right back at him as if he was the man of the hour, or perhaps the sacrificial lamb. As he drew closer, the short, red-faced man’s smile widened and he stuck out his stumpy hand. “Oh, Mr. Andrews, it’s so good to see you again. Come, sit right here next to me.” He pulled out the empty chair reserved for him.
When he was properly seated to his right, the short man laughed out loud and, between his jolly hahas, he said, “Oh my dear friend, Mr. Andrews, welcome to our little private party! Not that you are going to remember all of these names, but to your right is Chairman Ho of China Global International, and next to him Director Sandoval from Venezuela Oil Industry.” One by one he pointed around the oval table and introduced the dozen or more influential men, giving their titles, and the countries they represented. When the table came to a complete circle and he landed back on himself, he said, “And, as I told you before, I’m Eric von Braun, the CEO of German Financial Corporation.”
The tall, cathedral-walled room went silent for a second or two while all the wandering eyes did most of the talking. Not really sure what to say, the old billionaire just sat there quietly and studied the faces of the powerful men he had been introduced to.
A second later, from his left, the German man spoke again, but this time in a much calmer voice. “So, Mr. Andrews, I understand all of this might be rather confusing and overwhelming for you. But trust me, if I had to explain everything in detail, that would make matters even more complicated. It is unnecessary. All you need to concern yourself with is that, as of a week ago, your life has changed dramatically. All you need to do is what is asked of you. Make yourself useful whenever needed. I’m not sure about you, but personally I like change sometimes; but in your case this transition can be a pleasant one, or a tragic one, as you have witnessed. I guess that depends on you.”
The German paused, and when nobody from around the table said anything, he continued on to the next subject, which was the main purpose of this sit-down. “So, Mr. Andrews, I heard you finally had your face-to-face meeting with the police captain. How did that go?”
The old man first looked at all the wandering eyes around the table, staring at him directly, then turned his attention back to the short, red-faced German on his left, with his brown eyes fixated on him like a trained falcon. Not wanting to prolong his answer, with one breath he said, “It went just fine. He and the black detective in charge both apologized for the misunderstanding and assured me that it wouldn’t happen again.”
“Oh that’s great. Anything else I need to know?”
“No. Detective Melvin repeated the same story about that Abby and her boyfriend Jack, and the crazy story about the missing dead man from the hospital. I told them what you had instructed me to tell them and, if you don’t believe me, you can ask the guard that you sent along.”
“Oh my dear Mr. Andrews, there’s no need for that,” the German said calmly. He was pleased with the answer and moved to the next subject. “This is what’s going to happen next. Tonight you will be flown to Italy on a private plane where our friend Alberto Deovancha from Italy Auto Manufacturing will provide you with a nice seaside private villa where you will enjoy yourself for the time being. Perhaps later, when the situation is right, we might relocate you to similar lavish facilities in other parts of the world so you can truly experience life. And I have to tell you, Mr. Andrews, there is nothing better than that.”
“What about Anya and Jozsef?” the old man asked, deeply concerned.
“There’s no need to worry about them. As I told you before they are fine and will remain that way. If I were you, Mr. Andrews, I would take advantage of this situation and enjoy the opportunity that has been presented to you. I know you have many questions and I’m sure you are entitled to answers, but for now you should consider this as a lovely vacation away from the clutter of hard times and enjoy yourself to the fullest. Honestly, we never know what the future might hold for you in our organization. But we are all destined for something big, and we just have to find your destiny. Who knows, perhaps you are already enacting your part as we speak and we just don’t know it yet.”
When the German paused again, the old man looked around the table for the third time. This time some of the men were nodding their heads in agreement, while others still stared at him with cold eyes. Before he could say anything in reply, the large upright clock behind him started tolling the hour. That snapped him out of his already nervous state.
On his left the red-faced German laughed hard, sensing the fear in the air. Like a wild beast toying with its prey, he brought forth another loud, jolly haha! and waited for the situation to sink in. From the old man’s flushed expression it was obvious he was concerned about life, death, and the unknown future awaiting him. Just to ease his mind for now, he stopped toying with his guest and placed his thick, stumpy arm across his slumped shoulders and brought him closer. “Mr. Andrews, you should not worry yourself about death. You are more valuable to us alive, unlike some others that you know. You know what I mean, my dear Damian, don’t you?”
Chapter 8
San Francisco, America
Abby made a left-hand turn onto her street and passed the brown house on the corner in haste. Today was the second day since she had accepted Doctor Phillips’ proposal. Now, as the director of her department, her duties were carried out mostly from behind her desk rather than in the morgue holding a sharp scalpel and cutting into flesh. Although it had only been forty-eight hours, she already missed examining the cold, stiff dead bodies to see what was their cause of demise. Her pay was up by twenty percent, but her excitement level had dropped twice that. Just to keep herself entertained, she had searched Margret’s computer, folders and cabinets to try to shed some light on the Damian Andrews mystery. After Melvin’s face-to-face sit-down with his captain and the old billionaire, even she was now having doubts about her encounter. At the moment what Jack had said about her having a paranormal vision sounded more logical than anything else.
As far as Miss Davis’ unfortunate accident and Margret’s sudden transfer to USC were concerned, they had ruled those as coincidental and not related. According to Jack and Melvin, all the evidence pointed to nothing, and their unofficial case concerning Mr. Andrews was officially closed. Although all the facts pointed in this direction, for some reason Abby still couldn’t let go. Deep down inside she knew what she had seen. She had touched the old man’s stiff corpse. Taken him out of the freezing locker and filled his information form with the pen that also went missing. There still was the matter of who called in sick for Miss Davis and for what purpose. So either she was going all-out kooky crazy, or the case was not totally closed yet.
Abby pulled up in front of her house, hit the squeaky brakes and parked behind the empty orange trash cans. Bag and keys in hand, she walked inside and saw Jack and Melvin on the couch with red eyes and forty-ou
nce beers in their hands. “You guys look drunk,” she said, smiling.
“Oh no, we’re not drunk, we’re just buzzing. Right, buddy?” Jack moved his bottle closer to Melvin’s for a clink.
Melvin banged his half-empty bottle with force and agreed with Jack, who he called his “confidant.” Then he retracted this with a smile. “Okay, maybe not my confidant, but I agree with the man that always manages, somehow, to sink me head deep in trouble.”
There was a round of laughter between the two ex-military brothers. The boys were definitely drunk despite their innocent protestations. This was confirmed when Abby went into the kitchen and saw the four empty forty-ounce bottles sitting on the counter. When she walked out with her own twelve-ounce light beer in her hand, Jack said, “Oh, right on time. Come here. Sit next to us and listen to what Melvin and I have to tell you while you drink.”
“You want to tell her, or show her first?”
“No, man, as we talked about, tell her first and then show her.” Jack rolled his eyes, irritated that tipsy Melvin might ruin the surprise.
Abby laughed at the two clowns going back and forth and checked the couch before sitting between them. She waited for their shenanigans to begin. This was going to be one of their silly, childish pranks that they had pulled on her many times before. The last one took place in similar circumstances. They had offered her a seat, and when she took it the fart bloom aired out with a loud, comical buzz under her. She didn’t mind the elementary joshing. It was all in good humor, and at times she got even with her own pranks.
Not knowing what to expect this time, Abby kept her blue eyes open, checking left and right for any underhanded tricks, and waited. In seconds her goofy smile disappeared in confusion when Jack finally said, “I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or what, but Pig and I been talking, and we think we might have been wrong for telling you there’s nothing to this Damian Andrews mystery, and the case is closed and shut.”
The Missing Dead Page 3
