Brainstorm (13 page)

“So you recorded this conversation with your former
assistant?” asked Matt, after he’d listened to the tape.

“Not more than an hour ago,” I answered.

“And she worked with you for how long?”

“Around two years.”

“And no problems with her in all that time? Nothing ever
came up missing? She never displayed odd behavior?”

“She lied about living with her grandmother, but she never
confided in me about Carl’s violent behavior until I confronted her in the
hospital. I don’t know if I’d call that odd; given the circumstances, I’d call
it survival.”

“And all this time she knew about Carl and Danny Stearns
and Mr. Finnegan, and never said a word? Even though she knew you were afraid
of Stearns?”

“I’m telling you she was
terrified
of Carl – and throw Danny Stearns into the mix and I
can’t blame her. She obviously felt badly enough, though, to call and tell me
about it today.”

“But not bad enough to say where she was or where the
money is hidden.”

“It didn’t sound like she knew about the money.” I looked
at Jack who winked at me and nodded, as if to tell me I was doing a good job.

“It doesn’t smell right to me,” Matt said, “there’s more
to this.”

“I agree,” said Jack, “it can’t be a coincidence that the
bank robbery and Tony’s plane crash are tied to Ferdy – who’s tied to Danny and
Carl – who are all tied to Harley – who’s tied to you, Audrey. It’s all
connected. We need to find Ferdy to see what we can get out of him. Of the
three men, I’d say he’d cave the quickest.”

“Another thing,” said Matt. “The pills you gave to Miller
Crawford came from a bottle in Harley’s desk, and the bottle tested positive
for the drug found in his blood. And Tony’s. So where did she get them? From
Carl? Or Ferdy? Whoever it was had to do some research to find pills that
looked so much like aspirin. That alone spells premeditation.”

“And,” said Jack, “
why
did she have them? Miller getting them had to have been an accident; there was
no way Harley could have known that he was going to get a headache.”

“Unless,” said Matt, “she was supposed to put them in
someone else’s drink.”

“Whose?” I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe yours.”

I shook my head. “She would never have done that.”

“Think about it,” he said, “the woman was holding on to a
ton of secrets. It wasn’t impossible for something to slip out. She would have
needed to be prepared for a scenario like that.”

“So she could what, drug me before I got into my
vehicle?”

“Three million bucks is a boatload of motive, Audrey. And
so is fear.”

“You know, if I were Harley,” I said, “I’d turn the three
guys in, testify against them, and collect the reward money.”

“That’s exactly what she did with the conversation on
this cassette,” said Jack, “except she screwed herself out of the reward money
by admitting to aiding and abetting, and interfering with an investigation. So,
that little lady is in a lot of trouble, and they’ll be looking for her too,
now.”

This was not the outcome I’d been hoping for. I wanted
the men caught, but I didn’t want to bring any more trouble to Harley; she’d
had enough in her life. We’d truly gotten along from the first day we met and I
couldn’t have asked for a better assistant or friend. Now I’d betrayed her by
having Jack listen to our conversation and made her a wanted woman. I felt
awful. If I ever heard from her again, I’d warn her. I’d confess that we hadn’t
had a private talk at all; that Jack had heard everything. I wanted the opportunity
to tell her to stay away – that if the reward money was on her mind, to forget
it; that thanks to me, she could never, ever, collect it.

“Well, I’ll turn the cassette over to the Rochester
D.A.,” said Matt, “and it will become part of the prosecution’s case.”

“Does this mean I won’t have to testify?”

“Just the opposite,” he said. “It means you’ll have to
testify about making the recording.”

Well, wasn’t this day going just super. In trying to do
the right thing, I’d screwed myself six ways to Sunday and dragged Harley along
with me. I looked at Jack. “If we’re done here, can we go? I’ve had enough for
one day.”

Once we were back in the car, tears streamed down my
face. “I don’t know what to do,” I said. “Every time I turn around something’s
going from bad to worse, and now I’m causing even more problems for myself and
for Harley.”

“Audrey!” he said, “Will you please get over Harley?
Write her
off
for Christ’s sake. You
have to stop thinking of her as a friend. She’s not! You have enough to deal
with without feeling guilty about her. Now stop it!”

Frustration. It was as bad as hearing weariness in his
voice. Jack didn’t understand my inability to let go of the things in my life I
saw as being positive. Like Harley. My anxiety aggravated him, and I knew he
was at the end of his rope.

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he said. “I know you have
issues, and just because I don’t understand them – because I’m not a therapist
or a psychologist – doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be patient with you.”

“I’m going to call Dr. Steele and set up an appointment
for as soon as she can see me.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” he said. He held me tight
and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I’ve never kissed someone in my patrol
car before. Better not start now.”

“I’m going to spend the rest of the day looking at
apartments,” I said. “At least that’s productive.”

“Oh, I think you’ve been plenty productive today,” he
laughed. “See you tomorrow?”

“The earlier the better,” I said, and I waved goodbye.

Lisa’s car was parked outside the salon, so I decided to
pay her a visit; I needed a few minutes in her magic chair. When I walked in,
she was winding up the last rod on the head of a woman who had to be two
hundred years old. The odor of permanent solution filled the air, as Lisa
squeezed it over the rods, and I couldn’t understand how the lady’s ancient
lungs could take it. The stuff smelled God-awful.

Lisa set the woman up with a cup of coffee and a magazine
and came to sit next to me, as I vibrated along with the chair. I told her I
was losing my apartment.

“Oh, Audrey, you’ve been up there for so long! It never
crossed my mind that you’d be gone some day.”

“Just one more thing for me to worry about,” I sighed. “I
already have way too much on my mind.”

“So I noticed.” She went into the coat area and brought
out my laundry basket full of the sheets, towels, and blankets I’d taken to the
Laundromat. I’d completely forgotten they were there. “This was sitting empty
in front of one of the big washers – it has your initials on it. It’s your
stuff, right?”

I nodded. “I can’t believe I did that. Thanks for drying
them for me.”

“Not a problem, but I’m getting worried about you; should
I be? Are you all right? I mean, really all right?”

“No, I’m not. I should go.” I picked up my laundry
basket, walked next door, and climbed the stairs to my apartment, wondering if
I would
ever
be really all right.

Needing something to occupy my mind, I drove to the
office, determined to round up everything still left that pertained to my
agency, and maybe even take a stab at wrestling one of the cots down the
stairs. If I could manage to lug it that far, I could roll it out to Nelly and
hoist it into the back. I backed up close to the door, opened Nelly’s hatch,
and started fishing in my purse for the door key. Not paying attention to my
surroundings, as Jack had warned me to do, I failed to hear the approach of the
person who stuck the business end of a gun in my back.

“Open it,” a man said, and I knew from his phone call,
that it was Carl. I froze with the key in my hand, unable to insert it into the
lock. “Give me the damn thing,” he ordered, and I placed the key in his
outstretched hand.

“Carl,” I started. “I told you, I don’t know where Harley
is.” He pushed me inside and kicked the door closed behind him, while his grip
on my arm tightened. “She’s not here. I swear!”

Keeping me with him, he searched every room and closet on
the first floor before he waved the gun toward the stairs, “Let’s go.”

“Are you serious?” I cried.

“Shut up and go!” he ordered, as he pushed me forward,
poking the gun in my back for emphasis.

Suddenly I remembered Miller saying that the alarm would
be triggered by breaking glass; surely it wouldn’t matter if it was broken from
the inside or outside. I moved toward the stairs and the window where my
nameplate rested on the sill. As we got to the window, I pointed to the crystal
piece. “Harley gave this to me.”

“Keep moving,” he ordered.

Adrenalin coursed through my body, providing speed and
strength that surprised even me, as I grabbed the heavy piece and rammed it
into the window. The glass shattered and the alarm sounded.
Thank you, Miller!

Startled by the noise, Carl lost his focus and I was able
to push him off balance; he tumbled backwards onto the floor. “Son of a bitch!”
he shouted. He landed hard and the gun skittered away. He’d only fallen from
the fifth step, but that left enough space between us to let me run the rest of
the way up and lock myself in the small bathroom. I didn’t think he’d follow me
with the alarm blaring, knowing that the police would arrive at any moment, but
I stayed where I was, having seen enough TV to know that sometimes a bad guy
waits to draw the innocent person out. I sat tight until the sirens became so
loud it sounded like the patrol cars were going to drive through the wall of
the building.

I cautiously made my way to the first floor with my hands
in the air, just in case. Two uniformed officers were in the parking lot,
handcuffing an irate Carl, while two more, with weapons drawn, moved toward the
stairs. I recognized Matt, and better yet, he recognized me.

Matt asked, “Was he alone?”

I nodded, and answered, “Yes,” at which point, he and the
officer next to him holstered their weapons.

“You hurt?”

“No, just rattled.” But as I said that, I felt what I can
only describe as an electrical short in my head.
What the heck was that?
It almost had a sound to it –
ffft!

I explained what had happened and answered Matt’s questions,
as he wrote in his notebook. Within ten minutes, Jack arrived. “Was that Carl
they put into a squad car?” I nodded. “Are you okay?” I nodded again. “Thank
God you weren’t hurt. Why he was here?”

“I guess he thought he could force me to tell him where
Harley went,” I said, and I explained how I’d broken the glass with the gift
Harley had given me. “Without that, I don’t know how I would have signaled for
help.”

“Why were you even here?” he asked.

“Among other things,” I said, “I came to move one of the
stupid cots.”

“Lord, Audrey, you know I’d do that for you!” I could
tell he was trying to control his frustration with me, but he soon realized how
upset I was and backed off. “Do you have your medication with you? You’re
shaking.”

“I stopped taking it,” I said, as another
ffft!
buzzed through my head. It didn’t
hurt, but it felt like someone had poked the end of a live wire into my brain.
There. And then not there. What was happening to me?

“Why?”

“What?” I asked, having lost his voice for a second.

“I asked why? Why did you stop taking your medication?”

“I didn’t like the way it made me feel.” I looked down,
not wanting to see concern, or worse, judgment,
 
in his eyes. “I don’t need it when I have you.”

“You’d better mention that to Dr. Steele when you see
her.”

“I will.” I’d fully intended to tell Dr. Steele, and
hoped she would understand. Even if she didn’t, it was my life. She was my
therapist, but she didn’t own me. I was able to take her advice or ignore it. I
wanted so badly to be able to declare myself to be my own woman. A fully
capable, anxiety-free, human being. I was still holding on – my GAD had not
fully returned, as far as I could tell, but then I hadn’t known it had a hold
on me when I was in college either; not until I’d been told I was fully in its
grasp.

Jack said, “I’ll call you tomorrow. I’m working overtime
tonight.”

I nodded. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to call a glass
service and wait for them to come fix the window, then I’ll head home. You be
careful, okay?”

“I always am.” He winked at me and left, along with the
other officers.

I called the glass company’s emergency number, made a mental
note to have the land line in here disconnected, then sat at my desk to wait.
Half an hour later the van from the glass company pulled into the driveway and
within twenty minutes the window had been replaced. I thanked the installer,
and asked if we could walk out together; I set the alarm, turned out the
lights, and we left. My shoulders were stiff and my head was pounding. Maybe a
hot shower would help clear out the cobwebs.

Clean and jammied up, I made a call to Dr. Steele’s office,
which netted me an appointment for the following Wednesday. Suddenly, another
zap to my head –
ffft!
like a
lighting strike – and I knew I had lost a split second of consciousness. Did I
have a brain tumor now? Is that how I would wind up this crazy-ass life of
mine? As if the universe wanted to answer, a vision materialized.

I saw myself in a hospital bed, a doctor standing nearby,
telling me the tumor was inoperable and that the end of my life was near. Would
I have enough time to come back to my apartment? Or would I have to remain in
the hospital until the end? If I came home to die in my beloved apartment,
would I live long enough that I would still have to find a new place and move?
Or would my landlord take pity on me and let me stay, even if my lease expired
before I did? Another zap. I went to bed, but did not sleep. How could I?