The Missing Dead

by Karlous Naderi

  Abby raised her eyebrows. She recognized that tone. “What is it?”

  “Well, I was wondering if you know Margret’s birth name.”

  “No, I just know her as Stimson. Why?”

  “Well, since we can’t find anyone working under that name at USC, maybe she used her birth name. If we still can’t find anything, then maybe Margret didn’t move. Given all we know, somebody could’ve hurt her to keep her mouth shut regarding whatever happened that day at the hospital. If we believe they got to Miss Davis to keep her quiet, then why not Margret?”

  Abby thought for a minute and hoped that wasn’t the case. Not wanting to entertain those negative thoughts, she sighed and said, “Well, there’s only one way to find out. Maybe tomorrow afternoon, before I go to work, I can stop by Margret’s house and see what I can learn.”

  “I was hoping you were going to say that. Because honestly, if she has also had an accident, like Barbra, then that’s solid proof that the captain would not be able to ignore.”

  The next two hours passed with Abby freshening up the house while Jack continued to sort all the puzzle pieces in his head. He debated if he should call Melvin about his new Margret theory but talked himself out of it. He would wait till eleven o’clock when they had their usual nightly pow wow. Around ten, Jack went to the kitchen to make Abby a sandwich and took it to her on the couch.

  “Thank you, baby. Sit next to me.”

  When he did, there was a loud, comical buzz under him from the fart bloom. Jack burst out laughing. While they were laughing, Jack’s phone rang with Melvin’s ringtone. It was an hour ahead of schedule.

  “Why are you laughing?” Melvin asked with a serious tone.

  “Oh, Abby just got me good with the fart balloon.”

  Any other time Melvin would have joined in, but he was calling with something urgent and just gave a serious hmm. “Listen, Jack, I just received an unexpected phone call from Mr. Chris Jackson and he has agreed to meet me in Bern, Switzerland. I think we should make our move ASAP, before Tania changes her mind and gets on my case for my poor choice of friends, who always manage to sink me head deep in trouble and worry her to pieces.”

  Chapter 11

  Bern, Switzerland

  Fifteen hours later, not believing their eyes, Melvin and Jack landed at Belp International Airport, freezing their butts off. It had been a long flight, lasting eleven hours and thirty-nine minutes. According to the pilot they had flown at five hundred and fifty miles per hour, or four hundred and thirty-four knots. The only positive aspect to their long flight was that it had provided them with enough time to discuss the line of questions they were going to ask Mr. Jackson. They had managed a seven-hour nap, smacked down some good food, and watched a boring movie that put them back to sleep for another hour and half.

  “So now what?” Jack pulled up the hood of his jacket as they walked out of the crowded terminal, carry-on dangling across his shoulder.

  Melvin didn’t answer for a moment. He looked around at his busy surroundings. There was nothing more to see than the regular airport bustle. “I’m supposed to call Mr. Jackson and let him know we’re here.”

  “You think he’s going to send us a car?”

  “We’ll see. For all we know he might already have somebody here waiting for us.”

  Jack scanned from east to west. North to south. He saw no private chauffeur waiting for them. Even if there had been, it was so freaking cold that he could hardly focus on anything other than staying warm. While Melvin called Mr. Jackson, Jack reached for his own phone to make sure his international sim card was working. For a moment he debated whether he liked the bone-crushing cold more than the flesh-melting heat of Iraq during his time in service. They both had their pros and cons. He diverted his attention back to his phone and turned it on.

  So far his sim card seemed to be working just fine, but he was low on battery and, most importantly, there were no calls or messages from Abby yet. Before they had left for the airport, Abby promised she would call him with an update after she stopped by Margret’s house. He calculated it was perhaps an hour or so before noon, San Francisco time, and Abby should be at Margret’s house shortly, and soon after that on the phone to him with the update.

  Jack turned back to Melvin. He was also shivering on the spot with the phone glued to his ear, still waiting for an answer. “What is it? He’s not picking up?”

  He shushed with his hand and said, “Hello, Mr. Jackson, this is Detective Melvin.”

  Once those words were out from between Melvin’s chattering teeth, Jack forgot all about the freezing weather sucking wind through every pores of his body. His heart pumped hot blood through his veins and, for a moment, he felt draped in a comforting warmth. He kept his ears glued to the one-sided conversation, and from Melvin’s frown it was soon obvious that something wasn’t right. A moment later his suspicions rose when he said, “Yes, Sir, I got it,” and with one motion hung up the phone.

  “What is it?”

  For the second time Melvin ignored Jack’s inquiry and with the same speed with which he had hung up on Mr. Jackson, he texted Tania. This was one of the deals that he had made with her in order for her to let him come on this wild-goose chase. He had promised Tania he would keep her informed every step of the way, so she didn’t have to worry about him day and night.

  “So are you going to freaking tell me or what?” Jack chimed in for the third time.

  “Well, buddy, I’ve got some bad news for you,” Melvin finally replied.

  “Let me guess, the old man doesn’t want to meet us?”

  “No, he still wants to meet, but he just doesn’t want to meet with you.”

  Those words left Jack in a frozen state of mind, searching for an answer. By the time he could defrost his tongue to ask, Why the heck not? Melvin beat him to the punch.

  “Apparently Mr. Jackson is really nervous and doesn’t want to have a sit-down with somebody who’s not an official law agent. Not only that, buddy, he’s not sending us a car either. We have to hitch our own ride to his location.”

  The first part of Melvin’s admission didn’t ease Jack’s disappointment at all, but he accepted the facts as they came. He was just there to get some answers to this Damian Andrews mystery and bring some sanity to Abby. As long as he could get to the bottom of what happened that night at the hospital, he really didn’t care if he was part of the initial interrogation or not. Not that he didn’t want to be there, but, as he had learned in the military, it was not about one person, but about completing the mission.

  “Come on, let’s find a car-rental place,” Melvin said, kicking his long legs into action.

  It took them about twenty minutes to rent a car and get directions from the worker with a thick German accent. Another seven or eight minutes until they reached the city of Bern. Five more minutes for a second round of directions from another woman with a German accent. Then they passed a bridge and, around the forty minute mark, they pulled into the wide street with buildings and trees along both sides. Jack did a preliminary check of the target address and finally found a parking space less than a block away.

  “Okay, Jack, wish me luck, buddy.” Melvin reached for the passenger door. “I promise I’ll get you in if I can. For now just sit tight here in the warm car, and if you get bored listen to the radio. Call Abby or something until I come back.”

  With those words, Melvin stepped out of the car and took large strides down the street towards the target building. With every step he kept his eyes open for anything out of the ordinary. There were a few passing pedestrians and bicyclists minding their own business, which appeared totally normal for the demographic. Before entering the old three-story building, Melvin paused and casually looked to his left. Their rental car parked in the distance was well hidden in the cut. Not sure exactly what he was going to uncover here, he sighed and walked through his steaming breath in front of him. Heart racing, he quietly climbed the narrow staircase, his thoughts elevated b
y every step. The building looked beaten up and broken, not suited to a wealthy man such as Chris Jackson. The old man had given him a set of unusual instructions to follow once he reached his apartment. As soon as Melvin was on the third floor facing the old, orange, cracked door, without wasting any time he knocked twice, and twice again seconds later. A moment later, a low, raspy voice from the other side said softly, “Alina?”

  “No, Grata.”

  First came the sound of a heavy bolt being unlatched from the top, and then the twisting of the doorknob from the bottom. When the squeaky door slowly cracked open, under the dim light Melvin saw the two dark, nervous eyes peeking out at him through the three-finger gap. “Mr. Jackson?”

  The man didn’t reply back for a second or two and continued studying Melvin from head to toe. At the five second mark he finally said, “Detective, do you have any identification?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Without any hesitation Melvin pulled out his San Francisco homicide badge while the old man, with his dark, suspicious eyes, studied the ID under the dim light and told him to bring it a little closer. A second after, as if that was enough confirmation for now, he stepped back and proceeded to remove the chain from the back of the door. “Come in, come in,” he said immediately with the same low, nervous voice and grabbed Melvin by the arm. He pulled him inside and slammed the orange, cracked door behind them with force.

  Chapter 12

  San Francisco, America

  Abby stepped on the gas and her Toyota rumbled loudly as she made a left turn. She had tossed and turned all last night, not able to sleep. Every time she had closed her eyes she pictured the corpse of Damian Andrews lying stiff on her slab, poor Barbra trapped behind her glass prison, Doctor Phillips’ weaselly expression, and images of Margret mortally wounded. When her thoughts didn’t wander domestically, they were working internationally. She wondered what Jack and Melvin were up to. Although she knew they could take care of themselves in a jam, she still couldn’t help worrying. After all, they were on a wild-goose chase overseas and they hadn’t taken any weapons with them. Other than the hand-sized military drone, the tactical flashlight with a saw and a knife, and a few articles of clothing just to stay warm, they hadn’t taken anything. Abby wanted to call them sometime around six in the morning Pacific time for an update, but she stopped herself, knowing they were still on the plane. Finally she forced herself to sleep.

  Around eleven o’clock, after four hours of uneasy shuteye, she woke up again and dragged her half-conscience body to the bathroom with her eyes closed. After a quick cold shower to wash the sleep crust from her tangled eyelashes, she dressed, fixed her hair and was out the door with keys in hand. Now she only had about thirty minutes to stop at Margret’s to poke around, and perhaps barely make it to work on time to call Jack and spy on Doctor Phillips.

  Not paying attention to her surroundings, Abby continued thinking her deep thoughts until she was snapped to reality by a loud honk from the car behind her. She pressed the gas when she realized the light had turned green and it was her turn to make a move. She made a quick left and, on the next street, a fast right, and eased up on the gas. She slowly pulled into the road that would take her directly to Margret’s neighborhood.

  Driving past every building, Abby felt her heart racing, and it was the same with her thoughts. With all the days that had passed since she last saw her, she wasn’t sure how she was going to face Margret. What was she going to tell her? Was she going to bring up the subject of Damian Andrews again, or was she going to stick with her concerns for Margret’s welfare as her main reason for being there? Not quite sure yet, with a thousand and one thoughts brewing in her head, Abby kept going down the long street that finally turned into a half circular dead-end. The horseshoe cul-de-sac was packed with rows of houses. There were chic houses built on top of chic houses, which made the scene appear like a dreamy movie set designed by Hollywood.

  Once Abby had parked in front of Margret’s address, all her thoughts and emotions mixed, sending her mind into a dark spiral. Heat and sweat accumulated on her forehead, and confusion took over her body.

  Abby stared through the double windows and felt sure the charming French complex was totally vacant, like Al Capone’s vault. Her head flooded with questions and more questions, drowning her deeper in her thoughts. She debated whether she should leave the car and investigate the place more closely, but what was the use? She was not blind. She could see clear as day through the double windows that had no curtains or shutters. The place was empty, bare, naked, or whatever synonyms were listed in the thesaurus. While Abby was still debating what to do next, from the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the next-door neighbor stepping out her house with a bag in her hand.

  “Excuse me,” she called, and hurried out of her Toyota.

  The brown-haired woman welcomed Abby’s quick advance towards her without feeling threatened. When they were much closer, Abby said again, “Hi. I’m a friend of Margret Stimson, who used to live here. Do you know what happened to her?”

  The lady gave Abby the once over from head to toe, and as if she had known her forever started blabbing and gossiping. “No, I don’t know where they went, but I have to tell you, it’s very unusual.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, dear, I think it was some time last week when I heard the Mr. and Mrs. having one of their arguments. Ten minutes later I saw him leave, and Margret closed the windows. I didn’t see either of them for two days, and the next thing I know there’s a moving truck loading their belongings.”

  Abby stood quietly, dumfounded, with her heart sinking into her stomach. Her thoughts drowned beneath the tsunami of emotions, weakening her legs under her. Not ready to give up yet, she took a deep breath and swam above her wave of emotions, continuing her line of questioning like a good detective. “Was this last week on Tuesday?”

  “It could’ve been. I’m sure it was before Thursday, though.”

  “Did Margret ever mention anything to you about moving to LA for a job at the USC Medical Center?”

  “No, never. I would have known about it. Margret loved her job at the Memorial Hospital. I remember she once said she would never move anywhere until Michael was done with his middle school.”

  Unconsciously Abby copied one of Melvin’s hmms and asked, “I know Margret used to talk about her coworkers. Do you know if Doctor Robert Skylar Phillips might know where she is?”

  This time it was the babbling, gossiping neighbor’s turn to stand quietly for a second or two as if Abby’s question was way out of her jurisdiction. She finally said, “No, I’m sorry. I’m not familiar with her friends.”

  Abby wanted to ask next if she knew Margret’s birth name, but that question might have been too suspicious. Not wanting to blow her cover, she thanked the babbling neighbor for her kind hospitality and concluded her visit with a reminder. “Okay. Well, if you do come across her tell Margret to call her good friend Abby.”

  “I sure will, dear.”

  Abby hurried back to her car for her phone. Heart thumping, she dialed Jack’s number and tried to make sense of everything. “Come on,” she said impatiently after the first ring.

  A ring later Jack picked up with excitement, glad it was Abby on the other end. “Yea, finally there is my blue eyes!”

  “You’re not going to believe this!” Abby cut in immediately, not allowing Jack to complete his sentence. In one long breath she told him all the gossiping neighbor’s claims, some of her own theories, and finished with, “So if Margret is not at USC and her place is empty, where do you think she is?” When Jack hesitated to come up with a solid response, Abby cut back in and continued babbling about the possibilities. About a minute later, after a mouthful of theories and more possibilities about this and that, it finally dawned on her about Jack’s whereabout. She immediately stopped herself and apologized for her forgetfulness. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry. The news of Margret just made me totally lose my mind. So are you guy
s in the middle of interrogating Mr. Jackson?”

  “No, not me.” Jack was finally able to get a word in edgewise. With disappointment he confessed his side of the story and added, “I’m just sitting here in the car, bored out of my mind. There’s nothing for me to look at. It’s almost dark here and everything is covered with snow.”

  “Oh, that’s so romantic.”

  “Yeah, if you were here with some beer and a thick blanket. I’m by myself parked a block away, just counting the seconds. It’s been almost twenty-five minutes, and it looks like Pig is not coming back for me.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, baby. Just be a good soldier and get to the bottom of this Damian Andrews mystery, and I promise when you come back home I’ll reward you with a big hug and a juicy kiss.”

  In spite of the sweet, intimate, lovey-dovey moment between the two love birds, Abby unconsciously boomeranged the conversation back to Margret and Doctor Phillips. “When I get to work, I’m going to hint about USC having no records of Margret and see what Doctor Phillips’ reaction is.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Jack had heard this voice of Abby’s many times before. When she had no answers to her bottled-up queries, she took the direct approach, which sometimes didn’t have a happy ending. It was like playing with fire, and for some reason Abby was attracted to flames. Perhaps that was why they made such a good couple. When Jack was about to tell Abby that he was serious, he was distracted when his eyes landed on Melvin and Mr. Jackson in the distance, stepping out onto the third-floor balcony. When he leaned in closer to verify, it appeared as if Melvin was pointing at him and motioning for him to go over. Jack’s excitement washed away his concerns for Abby, who was still blabbing about Margret and Doctor Phillips. He told her about the sudden turn of events unfolding before his eyes. “Okay, baby, I really have to go now!”