Brainstorm (4 page)

The sleep medication Dr. Steele had prescribed proved way
more effective than the over-the-counter stuff I’d been taking, and I’d slept
soundly. Now I was energized, and felt I could take on whatever the day could
throw at me.

I showered, dressed, and then ran next door to the hair
salon where Lisa, the owner, gave me a quick trim and blow dry. After that,
since a storm was supposed to arrive in the afternoon, I hit the grocery store
for a few necessities. With the food put away, I cleaned my four rooms, those
being my kitchenette, living room, bedroom, and my closet-sized bathroom. It
only takes me about 45-minutes to get it all done, including a change of bed
linens.

I started the dishwasher, threw my dirty laundry into a
mesh bag, and turned the key in the lock on the way out. I walked six doors up
(in the opposite direction from the hair salon) to the Laundromat, filled two
machines with clothes and detergent, popped in a bunch of quarters, then hopped
into Nelly and headed for the office to see if I could get in.

The crime scene tape was gone, and I took that as
permission-granted to enter. I started a pot of coffee and began picking up the
mess on the floor. Within an hour I had sorted and re-filed most of the papers,
and nothing had jumped out at me as being missing.

I sat at my desk and opened a file for Miller Crawford,
knowing from experience that he would be bringing a shitload of promotional
material and all kinds of paperwork he would want me to see, whether I needed
to or not. I completed a contract for him to sign and slipped it into the file.

I looked at the birthday bag Harley had put on my desk
just before I’d run out to meet Cat at Ferdy’s house.
Better late than never
, I thought, and I reached for it. Inside was
a beautiful crystal nameplate – large and heavy, rectangular in shape, with
three words etched on it:
Audrey Dory,
Separator
. I laughed at the old joke – advertising’s goal is to separate
people from their money.

I looked around to find the perfect place for it. While
nameplates were intended to be displayed on a desk, mine was too cluttered. I
went to the stairs, where a little window looked out onto the parking lot. Not
a great view, but the sun came through almost all day long. I placed the heavy
crystal bar on the sill and watched, as prisms of light danced across the floor
beyond the stairs. Perfect.

I called SUNY Oswego and spoke to a lady about sending an
intern to Carrie. Next, I cancelled the first security company and then put in
a call to the airport for a list of private pilots in the area. On hold, I
watched dark clouds gather; a harbinger of the storm that was predicted to hit
later in the afternoon. After approving copy for an outdoor billboard and
listening to talent demos for a radio spot that needed to be voiced before the
week was out, I put away my paperwork and looked at Harley’s empty chair,
realizing more than ever how much I depended on her.

In light of the coming bad weather, I called Harley’s
home number, feeling obligated to see if her grandmother needed anything. Even
though a neighbor was supposed to be looking in on her, who knew how old that
neighbor was and if she was capable of providing food or medication in a storm?
There was no answer. Harley had said she’d called her grandmother from the
hospital, so I knew she was able to get to the phone. I waited for ten minutes
and then tried again, but she did not pick up.

As the sky darkened, I decided to take a ride over there,
just to be on the safe side. Once a storm hits around here, there’s no telling
how long it will last or if the power will stay on. I’d never been to Harley’s
place, but I took the address from her job application, and my GPS brought me
to the front of a house in a section of the city that was more run down than my
office location; it surprised me. She’d never really said much about where she
lived; but I always assumed it was at her grandmother’s house. I knocked on the
door. No answer. And there were no lights on inside, which there should have
been. I tried the door knob and found it unlocked. I opened it just a crack and
called, “Hello?”

Pushing the door open a little wider, I called again,
“Hello? Harley’s grandmother?” I didn’t even know the woman’s name. Where was
she? What if something had happened and she was hurt and all alone with no way
to call for help? When no response was forthcoming, I took a couple of steps
into the dark room and slid my hand over the wall, found a switch, and snapped
on the light. “Hello? Harley’s grandmother?” Thunder snapped in the distance,
and the first raindrops splattered against the windows.

The living room was neat as a pin, but there was no sign
of an elderly woman. Maybe that neighbor had come by and invited her next door
until the storm blew over. That would be a good thing. But Harley’s grandmother
could also be in the other room, unable to answer me; I ventured further into
the space and called out again with no luck.

I moved forward, hoping with every step, that I wouldn’t
find her on the ground. Had she fallen and hit her head? Had a heart attack?
Mixed up her medications? I spun out scenes of a little old woman meeting her
Maker in a series of awful ways because no one had been around to help.
Stop!
I chastised myself. I continued
on, but found no evidence that an elderly person even lived here. There was
only one bedroom, and just one bed. Had I come to the wrong house? I looked in
the closet and recognized several hippie-type pieces that I’d seen Harley wear,
alongside an array of men’s T-shirts and sweatshirts. Confused, and more than a
little curious, I peeked into the dresser drawers and found men’s jeans, socks
and boxers.
What the hell?

In the small bathroom, toiletries for both sexes crowded
the top of a tiny table beside the sink, but I saw no medications one would
expect to find in the home of an elderly woman, especially one who had as many
doctor’s appointments as Harley had led me to believe. I quickly made my way
back through the house and outside, leaving the front door unlocked, as I had
found it.

I was overcome with disbelief and a feeling of deep
betrayal; Harley had been lying to me all this time. But why? And when she’d
said she was taking her grandmother to all of those doctor’s appointments,
where had she actually been going? She didn’t even have a grandmother – at
least not one that lived with her.

As I pulled into a parking space in front of Krabby
Kirk’s, I noticed that the salon next door was open, and I went in hoping to
find Lisa alone. She was stocking hair products, but stopped when she saw me.

“Oh, boy, what happened to you?” she asked.

“I look that bad?”

“Well, you’re all wet for one thing. Don’t you own an
umbrella? I’ll be here for a little while longer. Have a cup of tea and keep me
company.”

I ran my fingers through my wet hair. “No tea, thanks.
I’ll just sit here for a few minutes,” and I lowered myself into one of the
pedicure chairs and turned on the vibrating back. “Better,” I said.

After telling her about Harley, Lisa said, “Come with me.
I have to bring up two more boxes from the basement – it’ll go faster if you
help. Then we can grab an early dinner next door, if you feel like it.”

I groaned, but turned off the chair’s soothing vibrations
and followed her. “I didn’t even know there was a basement in this building.”

“It’s awful,” she complained. “I
hate
it. It’s pitch black and it takes me forever to find the chain
to the light bulb.”

“So that’s why you want me to help,” I laughed, “you’re
afraid of the Boogey Man.” But as we descended into almost perfect darkness, I
began to see her point. I reached for the back of her shirt and held on to it
until she finally found and pulled the chain. The swinging bulb cast writhing
shadows over the stairs and the cobweb-covered walls, and the dirt floor felt
strange under my feet. “Let’s get the boxes and get out of here,” I said.

“It’s no easier going up after the light is out!” she
groaned. Since I needed both hands to carry the cumbersome box, I could no
longer hang onto her shirt, but I followed as close to her as I could. “Here’s
the first step,” she said, and up we went. I held my breath until the slight
glow of light at the top of the stairs came into view. I encouraged her to
hurry up and finish her work and soon we were on our way to dinner.

When we were settled at a table and had ordered, I
returned to the topic of Harley. “Now I have to fire her,” I whined, “and I
have no one to take her place.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” she said. “You
are
going to give her a chance to
explain, right?”

“For lying to me all this time? What explanation could
there be?” My head hurt. My shoulders ached. “I’ll have to change the locks,
too.”

We finished our meal and said goodnight. As I watched
Lisa drive away, I remembered my clothes were still at the Laundromat. I ran up
the street and threw my wet duds into a dryer, plugged in some quarters, and
cursed the fact that it would now be at least an hour before I could shower and
change into my PJs.

Back inside my apartment, I grabbed a bag of M&Ms and
headed for the couch, as rain slapped against my window.
 
My cell phone rang; it was Sean Finnegan.
“Any news?” I asked.

“No, but the police think I should hold a press
conference to get the message out about Ferdy’s disappearance. I’m a little
nervous; would you come and be there with me?”

“I’d be happy to – when and where?

“Tomorrow at noon. In front of the police station.”

“I’ll be there.”

I turned on the TV to see if there was any news about
Tony. Instead, I was treated to another pharmaceutical commercial using
diversion tactics to keep the audience’s mind off the list of possible side
effects that included swollen tongue, stroke, gas, loose bowels, and death
(watch the happy couple hike up a mountain – don’t listen to what the announcer
is saying). After the audience had been thoroughly warned, not to mention
disgusted, the news anchor reappeared with a report on the alleged bank robber,
Danny Stearns. Again, his picture was displayed on the screen and the reward
for information leading to his capture was repeated.

Where was he? I wondered. Did he remember bumping into me
that day? He’d stared at me just as I had stared at him. If his face, his eyes,
had remained in my mind all these years; did he also have a clear mental image
of me? And how much of a stretch was it to think that if he
did
remember me, and thought I could
pick him out of a lineup, that he’d try and find me; that maybe he’d been
trying to do just that all this time? I stood up quickly and M&Ms went
everywhere, as my spin cycle revved up.

I slipped on a rain jacket and ran to the Laundromat, loaded
my dry clothes into a basket as fast as I could, and used the rear entrance of
my apartment to haul it upstairs, where finally I was able to shower and put on
my purple PJs. I hung up a few shirts and then dumped the rest on the bed to
fold, but my hands were shaking, and I was unable to get the image of Danny
Stearns out of my head. I retrieved Officer Morey’s card from my wallet and
dialed him up. He was at my apartment within 20 minutes. “Nice jammies,” he
said.

“That’s unprofessional,” I bristled, tightening the belt
on my robe, “this is serious.”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been at two crime scenes with
you in the last couple of days. This is almost a date.” He looked at the candy
on the floor. “What happened here?”

“Just…nothing. That’s not important. The thing is,” I
began, hating to relive the story, “I was watching the news and saw a picture
of the man that the police in Rochester think robbed a bank there a while
back.”

“And?”

I explained as best I could about the day I left
Rochester, leaving out the part about having been at my therapist’s. “Now,
seeing him again on TV,” I said, “it occurred to me that he might remember me
too, and that maybe he’s been looking for me all this time. He would know I
could identify him, right?”

Officer Morey looked unconvinced. “He didn’t know you,
correct? Never saw you before that day? Didn’t know your name, or where you
were from, or that you were about to leave Rochester?” I shook my head no.
“Then I don’t think you have anything to worry about. But since you’re so
upset, is there someone you can call? Somewhere else you can stay for a few
days?”

I shook my head. “This is it. I’d be more afraid alone in
my office.”

“You know, if you’re certain you can ID this guy on the
day of the robbery, the DA and the police in Rochester are going to want to
talk to you; not to mention the FBI.”

“No, no. I’m not getting involved in that mess.”

“Unfortunately, now that you’ve told me, I have to report
it and you won’t have a choice.” He wrote down what I’d said and promised to
ask the Camillus PD to drive by my apartment now and then. “That’s the best I
can do right now. If you remember anything else, let me know.” He put on his
hat, tugged at the brim, and smiled at me. “Goodnight now.”

After he left, I wedged a kitchen chair under the knobs
of both doors and checked the locks on the windows, swept up the M&Ms, and
put away the rest of my clothes; anything to keep busy.

Back on the day Danny had run around that corner and
slammed into me, I had not returned to Dr. Collins’ office for help. She would
have tried to persuade me to speak to the police and I hadn’t wanted any part
of that. I would have had to give a statement, look at a lineup of creepy men,
and if worse came to worse, maybe even testify against him in court. I had no
memory of other people being around that day, but I couldn’t have been the only
one on the street; someone else had surely spoken to the police in Rochester.

I went into the bedroom and pulled down a box from the
top shelf of my closet. With my heart pounding in my chest, I slowly lifted the
lid and stared at the black ski mask hidden inside.