Miami's Forgotten

by Matt Lincoln

  She wasn’t smiling, nor did it look like my charm was working on her.

  I shrugged and tried again. “What difference does it make which doctor I went to, as long as I went to one? I mean, I could have poured booze on it and slapped a few Band-Aids on, but I came here because your father is a trusted acquaintance of mine. And he knows what he’s doing.”

  Verity was judging me with a good deal of distrust and maybe a slight touch of loathing just then. “My father doesn’t have acquaintances. He has discerning patients and people who owe him favors. I assume that you are not one of the latter and, forgive me for this, but you aren’t in the same league as his other patients to be the former. So, that must put you into another category altogether. I just do not know what that could be.”

  I scoffed at this, not in a rude or condescending way as I could have. But I could see the possibility that she might not actually know her father and about his past. It was because I didn’t know her well enough that I didn’t believe that I had any right to tell her what I did know about George. So, I took it back to the beginning.

  “I didn’t go to a hospital, Verity, because I have two gunshot wounds,” I said simply. “Those are immediately reported to the authorities, and at this time, I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to explain myself, my actions, or the circumstances in which I acquired those injuries.” I was willing to give her a lot of leeway here. I was a stranger after all, and she seemed to be worried about her father and about what kind of trouble I could be getting him into.

  “I do some kinds of work that force me to take some risks, and unfortunately, sometimes this is part of it.” I gestured to my leg. “Your father has helped me out before. He’d offered to again, in the past, so I just did what I needed to by coming to him now. Does that clarify things for you enough?” I could be sardonic, too, if I had to be.

  “You’re speaking to me as if I don’t know what he used to do and what you do now.” She leaned in closer, and I swear, she was trying to be intimidating or fearsome or something, but it just wasn’t happening. “I’m well aware of my father’s involvement with that harpy when she made him a mercenary, or a soldier of fortune, for a time. But she’s not a part of his life anymore, and that era of his life is over.”

  So, that was what this was about. She was worried about George and his continued interaction in ‘this type’ of lifestyle. I could respect that. I didn’t agree with her sentiments, but I could respect why she felt the need to protect him.

  “I believe you,” I assured her. “I don’t think George participates in that world anymore, but he’s also not the type to ignore people in need or people he considers friends when they ask for his help.” I hoped she understood that. And I liked to think that I was one of those people.

  Verity settled back into the chair with her arms crossed, still giving me that look of disfavor. “You’re correct about him there. He’s an exceptionally good sort of man, and he would never turn away a friend. But I do have more reservations about the fact that you came to know him through Kippy. You need to comprehend that any connection with her puts you on a very narrow and dangerous list with me.”

  I really was trying to take this seriously.

  “Verity,” I started, “let me… ease your mind about one thing. I do not like your stepmother. She and I may have a form of a relationship, but it’s as antagonistic as they come.” I felt like that didn’t explain it fully. “Our paths crossed in a very unnatural way, over the need to find and retrieve Arik from his kidnappers. I’m sure that you know that much.”

  She nodded, but it was clear that she was expecting more. I wasn’t too comfortable talking about this, especially here in George’s house, when I knew how volatile and precarious their own relationship was.

  I continued. “I don’t pretend to know all the intricacies between your family, and frankly, I don’t want to even try to. Just know, please, that I would never knowingly put your father at peril, and if it came to something where I needed to break off ties with him to safeguard him, then I would do it in a heartbeat. Are we clear?” I hoped that she could see how sincere I was trying there.

  She continued to watch me and judge me until finally, she seemed to give in. “Fine. I suppose that this is as much as I can expect from you for now.” With the ice queen persona melting away, she turned to me and started a whole new conversation. A much more welcome one, too.

  “Since you are here and my father seems to want us to bond or something, perhaps we should move past ‘this’ and discuss other things.” She took a moment to consider what that would be. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself? Not your work self, but other, less morbid things?”

  I didn’t quite get her idea of morbidity, but I went with it, anyway. “How far back do you want me to go?” I was trying to tease, not knowing how that would play out with her, but I was willing to test the limits. “I’m an only child. My dad had two families that he tried his best to maintain.”

  “What does that mean?” That must have sparked her interest somewhat, so I continued.

  “Well, my mom was my dad’s ‘other woman.’ He was married to a… nice lady, I guess, and he had a son named Darrell, who was my half-brother. My mother never talked much about it, but she and my dad shared something special, and I guess you could say that I was the result of that.” Frankly, even I didn’t know all the details. It just wasn’t something we ever spent a lot of time worrying about.

  I pressed on. “My dad, for what it was worth, he tried to make sure that Darrell and I kept that brotherly bond, such as it was. But our mothers, both of them, didn’t make that easy. There was a lot of resentment on all sides and it… made life hard sometimes. Knowing who to be loyal to, who to trust…” I still didn’t like to over-analyze it.

  Verity nodded in empathy. “Growing up, that must have made your relationships difficult to recognize abnormal ones from functional ones.” She was smiling in that pathetic way people did when they were trying to justify to themselves how I was. I nipped that in the bud right away.

  “No, don’t do that. You don’t get to psychoanalyze me unless I get to do the same to you.” I wasn’t about to lay here and have this conversation for the umpteenth time in my life. I would turn the tables fast enough to make her head spin. “Care to dive into why your hatred for Kippy is so prevalent and toxic to your relationship with your father, maybe?”

  That took her by surprise, and I knew that I needed to ease off. “Or, we could actually have a real conversation about something that didn’t make either of us uncomfortable and one where we can actually enjoy each other’s company? What do you say?”

  Verity smiled, a totally genuine kind, too. “Yes, let’s try that. Where shall we start this time?” With that crisis averted, we both seemed more willing to relax from this point on.

  “Maybe you should tell me about what you do. George mentioned a job thing you were looking into here, I think?” That was a nice, simple topic I hoped that would offer us both the chance to reset from here on out because I did kind of like her. She was unique, and I wouldn’t mind getting to know her better if I was allowed.

  “Yes, I am visiting here in Miami for a job interview of sorts. It’s more of an explanation toward expectations and benefits as the job is mine to turn down if I chose.” She tried to simplify that further. “I have some friends here in the city that own and run an art restoration business. That is, they clean and restore pieces from private collections from in and around the area.”

  I could hear the pride and interest in her voice, and that was a welcome change from what I’d been hearing from her. Verity obviously loved her work. She continued. “And now they want to expand and branch out to encompass the entire United States, so they are looking to hire some more qualified individuals for that venture.”

  “Forgive me, but what part of that do you actually do?” I didn’t recall ever hearing for certain what her occupation or skill set was.

  “Oh! I’m an art histori
an,” she gushed. “It’s my field of expertise to know and study the record and purpose of the pieces they restore for historical accuracy. To make sure that we use era-appropriate dyes and cleaning techniques, and to really just understand how and why the pieces were made and how best to accentuate the chronological significance of the pieces.” I got the feeling that she could have talked about that all day long if someone would listen.

  She looked down and smiled to herself. “Sorry, I get carried away sometimes, trying to explain it to people so that they can understand me.” She looked up into my eyes, and I felt a change between us. The guard was slipping, and that was new and possibly appreciated.

  “At university, we’re told to… sound authoritative and knowledgeable, no matter to whom we’re speaking. The best way to do that, my latest professor instilled in us, was to use lots of words.” Verity laughed, and it was a beautiful sound after all of that. “I may have taken it a bit to heart.”

  “No, I understand. When you love something, and you’re enthusiastic about it… I can get carried away too. Not about art,” I joked, “but there are a few things…” I was glad to realize where she was coming from. “So, are you going to take the job, or did you tell them to shove off?”

  Verity laughed again, beaming this time around. “No, I’m going to take it. I think trying to stay in one place for a while might be a challenging move for me. And being nearer to my dad is a plus point that I don’t think I should flout.”

  There was a knock at the door before either of us could say more. George walked in without bothering to wait for a reply. But as this was his home, office, thing… I accepted it without complaint. He was going over a tablet of papers that I had to assume were medical in nature. He got to the edge of my bed and stood there silently, then he looked up and right at me.

  “I hope that you don’t mind, but I did inform your friend Lashawn that you were here.” That was when George produced my phone from inside his medical coat’s pocket and handed it to me. That was the first that I’d even thought about it. I was glad that he had, though. “It was buzzing incessantly, and as I saw that it was from the same individual over and again, I answered it for you. I hope that you didn’t mind that?”

  “That’s okay. Thank you, George.” What else was I going to say? The guy had salvaged my body a few times now with his covert surgeries. I wasn’t exactly going to get mad and complain even if I hated that invasion of privacy.

  “Ah, good, so as it stands, once I spoke to him, he began to elaborate on the reason for your late-night adventures and just why it was that you were doing so.” George looked down, and I got the impression that he was unhappy with me for some reason. “Am I to understand that you are privately investigating the recent overdoses within our city due to an unknown drug?”

  That was a surprise, coming from him. I nodded. “Yeah, sort of. You… know something about that?” I wasn’t going to reveal anything to him until I knew exactly what he was after.

  “I do, in truth.” George folded the tablet to his chest and sighed deeply. “Without exposing my physician and patient privacies, I would like to add something to your investigations. I have, at present, two separate and unrelated patients within my care that have, I’m sure through no fault of their own,” I caught his wink, “overindulged in a recreational substance of unknown origin.”

  I sat up straight in the bed and practically pulled all the tubes out of my arms. George was quick to reapply or reinsert them, though. “You’re saying that you have living victims of this drug? Right here and now? George…” I didn’t stand a chance, but I had to ask, “please let me talk to them.”

  “I cannot, and you know why.” His whole Miami practice was catered to the rich, elite, and glamourous inhabitants of the city. There was no way in the world that I could honestly ask him to violate that trust and his reputation, even if that could be a huge breakthrough in what LaShawn and I were trying to track down.

  “Then can you ask them some questions for me? You can do it in a medical capacity and then, you know, forget, and leave their answers on a clipboard or something that I can… happen to glance at. In a completely harmless and innocent manner, right?” Yeah, that was never going to fly, and I knew it.

  Both George and Verity sneered at my attempt there.

  “I cannot, and I will not,” he said sharply. “But what I have done is that I have studied the trace elements of the, ahem, compound,” George even did the air quotes, “and found it to be a blend of manufactured goods not commonly produced in the US.”

  That was something I didn’t already know. “That means it’s getting imported. Any idea from where?” I couldn’t believe my luck and George’s aptitude in putting this together. I needed to talk to him more often, maybe.

  “Not yet. I cannot with certitude claim that your… case or whatever you’re working on is directly connected to my two patients. But I did find the idea worth entertaining, and also valuable enough to mention to you.” He had a very clever way of saying just what I needed to hear without telling me anything.

  I started to add things up, hoping that I wasn’t getting too far off base with it. “Could you possibly tell me the symptoms that your patients have experienced? Or if that’s not possible, you could just nod if I say something that sounds familiar?” I looked at him optimistically.

  George turned to his daughter, abruptly. “Verity, would you please get this patient bottled water? He prefers the brand I keep down in the refrigeration units near the garage if you don’t mind.” I had to admire the guy’s style in subtle messaging.

  Verity shook her head and laughed at him. Without a word, she exited my tiny room, leaving George and me to discuss things. As soon as that door was closed, I started up with my questions. “Was there perhaps a good high or a buzz with your patients?”

  George nodded once as if he was simply interested in what I was saying. I took that to be a yes.

  “Did the broker have a foreign accent?” He nodded again. “An Indian accent?” George’s head didn’t move, so that was a no. “Then maybe feminine and Israeli, or Middle Eastern possibly?” George’s head tilted a bit, but then his mouth moved oddly. I messed up somewhere or had missed something in what I’d asked. He was trying not to break his oaths and confidentiality of his patients, and I had to play along in the right way. “Israeli?” Nothing from him. “A Middle Eastern accent?” Still no movement from George’s head.

  So, I thought about what I’d exactly said. “Feminine? A female with an accent was their broker?” At that, George nodded at me and smiled a little. “Crap.” That meant that there was another woman somehow involved or that the witnesses were unreliable about the accent origins. That could mean that I had no reliable leads as to how to identify the mysterious trio.

  “That probably means that you haven’t heard about the little guy from Europe then, either, huh?” Both George’s eyes and his lack of head movement told me no on that front. This was going to throw all that I thought I knew about what was going on out the window.

  Stumped, I laid back down in the bed. George could see that I was done, for now, so he began to speak. “At the risk of becoming entangled into something that I will later regret, when and if you find more evidence about this compound, I would be more than happy to test it for you and do whatever I can to aid your efforts, Jake. Do please keep this in mind.”

  “I will. Thanks.” I was going to have a lot to unpack once I got out of here. For now, all I could do was think about it. And plan for my next steps in solving this.

  8

  LaShawn

  Jake headed over to meet up with me at my work after George released him from his care that night. I was already there at the Edler Center, doing some setup for the night, when I heard the familiar chime go off throughout the building, announcing a visitor. I stepped out into the corridor to see Jake, and when he saw me, he grinned in his usual way. I felt a wave of pure relief wash over me once I could see for myself that he was up
right and mobile.

  From a few doors across from where I was, Cing popped her head out and greeted Jake warmly. “Hello there! How are you doing this evening?” She had her friendly mannerisms about her, which were a bonus in this line of work. She was one of my favorite co-workers to do the overnight shift with.

  “Hey. I’m doing alright tonight. How about yourself?” I knew that Jake didn’t want to be rude to one of my co-workers, so he went along with it. And for all he knew at the time, Cing could have been my boss. “I’m actually here to speak to LaShawn if he’s not too busy.” He glanced at me and gave me a head thrust ‘hello.’

  “He’s just an old friend, Cing,” I told her so that she wouldn’t need to stop whatever she was doing in the other room. I gestured back into where I was to let Jake know to come on through. “Wanna join me in the lounge, Jake?”

  He smiled at Cing and made his way toward me. Once inside the employee area, I closed the door to secure us some privacy.

  “How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?” It was good to see him and see how well he was doing after everything that I had heard went down the night before. I motioned to the large table in the middle of the room for him to sit and get comfortable while I grabbed some drinks from the fridge.

  “I’m good. And I’m not feeling too badly, considering.” He smirked a little. “Could have been a lot worse, I was told.”

  “Yeah, about that doctor guy…” I had to stop myself. Now wasn’t the time to start asking those questions. “No, never mind. Let’s get down to business. Do you know who attacked you out there? Or what it was about?”

  “Not exactly,” Jake stated. “But it’s a little too coincidental that I happen to be asking questions about drugs and murders and shady folk and then get attacked out of the blue.” He got an odd look in his eyes, and I was wondering if he was going back to last night in his head. Just for my part, it was starting to feel like days ago now. But whatever Jake was thinking, he continued to speak. “I started to do the math, and I must have talked to fifty, sixty people last night, asking the same questions. I was bound to ask the right ones of somebody, eventually.” His eyes shifted away from me, and I started to think that there was something else going on, too.