Read You Think You Know Me Pretty Well aka Mercy Online
Authors: David Kessler
“But now?”
He was prompting her, picking up on her hesitance.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think she may have been planning to run away?”
“She … might have been.”
“Could she have been planning to run away with Clayton Burrow?”
“Certainly not! She hated him! And he hated her!”
“Are you sure it wasn’t just an act?”
“No, Mr. Sedaka, it definitely wasn’t an act!”
Alex had been speculating that maybe Burrow had tricked her into thinking he was going to run away with her and persuaded her to liquidate her trust fund and then killed her and stolen the jewelry. But Esther Olsen rejected that. A mother’s perceptions counted for something. But she may have been estranged from her daughter. But now was not the time to push it.
“Can you think of anyone at all that she might have spoken to? A friend that she might have confided in?”
He waited a while for an answer.
“There
was
one thing,” Esther Olsen’s voice came out of the silence.
“Yes?”
“She had a computer that she was always working at – an old laptop. She used to spend hours in front of it, either online or just writing.”
“Writing what?”
“I don’t know, but she treated it like an old friend.”
“You think she might have confided in her computer?”
“I don’t know. She never let me see it.”
“Do you still have it?”
“Yes. But why do you think this will help?”
“I just think that if I can unravel what was going on between Clayton— my client and your daughter, I might be able to make some progress.”
He didn’t add that he was also still mindful of the possibility that his client might actually be telling the truth, despite the long odds.
“I still have the computer. I haven’t switched it on since the day she vanished. I don’t even know if it works. But I still have it.”
“Look, Mrs. Olsen, I know this might sound like real
chutzpah
, but would it be possible for me to borrow the laptop? To take a look at what she’s got on it? Just in case I can find anything that might help.”
“We haven’t got much time.”
“I know. I’ll send a courier round right now … if it’s all right with you?”
There was a short pause and the sound of a sigh.
“It’s all right, Mr. Sedaka. You can send a courier as soon as possible. Just please … bring my daughter home for me.”
“Slow down a bit! My fingers keep missing the goddamn keys!”
“You told me to make it fast.”
The TV van was winding its way through the mid-morning traffic, following the same route that Nat and Alex were taking. Martine was sitting at the front with the driver. The cameraman and soundman sat in the middle row of seats, while the spark and boom operator sat in the back, holding onto the equipment every time the van swerved.
But Martine was trying to make a call on her cell phone at the same time, and the constant swerving wasn’t helping.
“Governor’s office,” the friendly female voice came through her Bluetooth earpiece when she finally keyed in the right number.
“Hi my name is Martine Yin from
Eyewitness News
. I’d like to interview the governor regarding the Clayton Burrow execution.”
“I’m sorry. Governor Dusenbury won’t be making any comments on this matter.”
The friendly, sunny voice had become somewhat clipped.
“Okay, well, can you just tell me, is there any truth in the rumor that the governor has offered Clayton Burrow clemency in return for Burrow revealing where he buried the body of Dorothy Olsen?”
“Just a minute please.”
She was put on hold and noted with wry amusement that the music they were playing was “California, Here I Come”. After what seemed like well over a minute, the clipped voice came back on the line.
“I’m sorry, but the governor is unable to comment on such rumors.”
“So you’re not denying it?” persisted Martine.
“The
governor
is neither admitting nor denying it. As I have said, we do not comment on rumors. If and when there is anything to announce it will be announced in the usual way, Miss…”
“Thank you very much,” said Martine. She pressed the red button and smiled.
“No go, huh?” said the driver.
“He doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“If it’s true, he’ll have to talk sooner or later.”
“Maybe he’s waiting for Burrow’s answer.”
“He must have an answer by now. We saw Sedaka driving into the pen.” Her voice became irritable. “I just wish we’d followed the shyster when he left the building!”
“You weren’t to know,” the driver replied. “All the signs said the action was at the pen.”
“Yeah, well it looks like it’s still that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well Sedaka didn’t make any statements to the press.”
“Maybe he has to report back to the governor first. I mean, they’re going to have to check out whatever his client tells them. If he told them where the body is, they’re still going to have to dig it up and test it to make sure.”
Martine’s eyes lit up.
“And wouldn’t it be nice to be there when they do?”
Susan White had been agonizing over the report on Eyewitness News. It was all too much. It couldn’t just be a coincidence. She thought that the face looked familiar. But it was the name that made it impossible to ignore.
Dorothy Olsen.
Dorothy had been a sensitive girl but not too talkative. She had never made it clear why she came to England for a procedure that could be done just as easily in America. It wasn’t as if she was a health shopper, seeking free medical treatment under Britain’s National Health Service. This was a private clinic and she had paid a lot.
Susan had asked her about it once, but she had just clammed up. It wasn’t that she was shy or secretive, it was just that she had made it clear that she found it too painful to talk. Of course she may have told the doctors, but Susan doubted that she told them more than she had had to.
The nurse speculated that it might have something to do with opposition from within her own family. And also, Nurse White speculated, there might be some very complicated background to the whole case.
But none of this was what was troubling her now. It was the timing. The news report hadn’t specified the exact date but the reporter had said nine years. Could it be the same person? The reporter had also said something about Dorothy disappearing on the night of her “high school prom.” According to the records, Dorothy had first approached them in
May
. Was that when high school proms took place? Susan White didn’t know.
Maybe it’s someone else with the same name … or maybe someone deliberately took her name.
The trouble was, there were just
too
many things in common: the name, the date. It was too much to dismiss as a coincidence.
Her mind was racing into unfamiliar territory. Maybe there was another explanation. Like what? Twins? An identical twin using her sister’s name? Not very plausible. There was nothing in the Eyewitness News report about a twin sister – something they would surely have mentioned if it had been the case, if only for the human interest angle.
There was no getting away from it. Susan knew that she had to act. Time was of the essence. She found a set of master keys and used them to open one of the offices. She wanted to use the phone without anyone else overhearing. The person she called was Stuart Lloyd, the Chief Administrator who had gone home for the day.
“Hallo.” She recognized the voice of Elizabeth, Stuart’s wife.
“Oh hallo, Mrs. Lloyd. It’s Susan White from the clinic. Is Stuart – Mr. Lloyd – there?”
“He’s eating dinner.”
“Oh I’m sorry.” Susan didn’t know how to play it. “Look, I know this … I mean … would it be possible to have a quick word with him?”
There was a tense silence.
“Can he call you back?” The voice was sharp, showing the irritation even while trying to hide it.
Susan White knew that this might mean in five minutes, two hours – or never. And she couldn’t take a chance on that.
“It’s rather urgent.”
“Just a minute,” said Elizabeth Lloyd, even more stiffly.
In the silence that followed, the nurse strained to hear the voices in the background. But she didn’t need to strain for long. Through part of the brief exchange at least, the voices were somewhat raised. When silence returned, the nurse tensed up, anticipating a possible storm.
“Yes, Nurse?”
It was her boss.
“Stuart, listen, I’m sorry to bother you at home like this. But I’ve just seen a report on one of the American news channels. It was about a murder over there.”
“What on earth has that got to do with us?”
“The victim’s name was Dorothy Olsen.”
“Good God!” Lloyd muttered under his breath.
“We have to do something. We can’t just ignore it.”
Stuart was silent for a few seconds. Then he spoke.
“We have to be careful. We’re not just talking civil negligence or malpractice here, don’t forget. There’s also that small matter of fiddling the dates.”
“We’re bringing you this special report from outside the building that houses the state governor’s San Francisco office for a special, exclusive report about the latest developments in the Clayton Burrow case.”
Martine Yin was delivering her usual smooth, polished performance. Not a strand of the glossy, jet-black hair out of place, the skin smoothed and softened by foundation, the eyelashes defined by just the right amount of mascara, the man’s waistcoat that made her look professional yet sexy – the whole picture perfectly crafted to tell the story and sell the story-teller.
“This station has learned that Governor Dusenbury has offered clemency to Clayton Burrow on the condition that he reveals where he buried the body of eighteen-year-old Dorothy Olsen, whom Burrow murdered some nine years ago. The governor made the offer in a private meeting earlier today with Alex Sedaka, Clayton Burrow’s lawyer.
“However, this station is now in a position to reveal that this meeting was not quite as private as it was supposed to be, because also present at the meeting was Dorothy Olsen’s mother, Esther. But the most surprising aspect of this whole new development is that it was Esther Olsen who convinced Governor Dusenbury to make this extraordinary offer. It is not entirely clear what motivated Mrs. Olsen to make such a generous request on behalf of the man who murdered her daughter. But there appears to be evidence that Mrs. Olsen is suffering from a serious, potentially life-threatening illness and she wants to be able to give her daughter a proper burial while there is still time.”
Martine stopped and held the nation in her gaze.
“What is also not clear is how Burrow responded to the offer. His lawyer visited him in San Quentin this morning immediately after his meeting with the governor. But Mr. Sedaka was tight-lipped when he left the penitentiary after relaying the offer to his client. Since then, neither Mr. Sedaka nor the governor’s office has been ready to answer questions.
“Martine Yin,
Eyewitness News
, the state governor’s office, San Francisco.”
“How the
fuck
did she find out!”
Alex had barely got through the front door of the office when Juanita told him about Martine’s broadcast. In the face of Alex’s explosive response, she didn’t so much as bat an eyelid, let alone flinch.
Juanita was a dark-haired, super-fit Latina beauty, with penetrating eyes that would have made her a good interrogator. She had only known Alex Sedaka for a few months, but that was long enough for her to realize that on the rare occasions when he showed anger, it was not directed at her – even if it might seem that way to an outside observer.
“I don’t know,” she replied coolly. “I called Eyewitness, but they weren’t saying … something about ‘protecting their sources.’ The usual press freedom bullshit.”
Alex took a deep breath. He hadn’t meant to yell. When he could trust his voice to hold at an acceptable level of calm, Alex spoke again.
“They probably don’t even know themselves.” Nat looked at him blankly. “Anonymous tip-off,” Alex added.
“You look like you could use a cup of coffee, boss.”
Juanita was already striding energetically to the kitchen, followed by Alex’s eyes, by the time he replied: “Thanks, Juanita.”