by Keith Yocum
“I don’t believe any of it,” Judy said.
“Let me finish. Her car was found in a seedy section of Las Vegas called the Boulder Strip. They think she was buying drugs. At this point, they have a knife that they think is the murder weapon, and they’re testing blood on Dennis’s clothes and his skin to see if there is a match. I used the CIA connection and claims of national security to free up some information from the DA there. He told me they consider Dennis a person of interest. But they can’t get much out of him. He’s apparently agitated and confused. And they’re trying to get information on the dead woman.”
“I don’t believe any of it,” Judy said.
“I’m not sure it matters whether you believe it or not, Judy. He’s in serious trouble. My guess is the DA is trying to determine if Dennis is a suspect or a victim in the same attack. If they find probable cause that he’s the killer, they’ll charge him. And as a side note, Dennis was supposed to be on a case for me. His report was due today. While you ponder this, can I ask you just one question?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever known Dennis to do hard drugs?”
“Never. The things you just told me have no relationship to the Dennis that I know.”
“I’m leaving in about an hour for Las Vegas to see if I can bully my way into seeing Dennis. I found him a lawyer. I’m only intervening in this case for business reasons; he was a critical piece of an investigation, and I need to close that up. Moving forward, I would think you’d want to be involved because I won’t be. I’m going to text you his lawyer’s name and contact info. Please get hold of the lawyer soon.”
“I’m going to Las Vegas myself,” Judy said. “Please share any information you have. It’ll take me a day to get there, and it’s possible that we may not meet up.”
“Good luck,” Louise said.
Judy hung up and continued to look out the window on the tall buildings in Perth. Raindrops started to pepper the window as she bit the inside of her lip.
“I’d like to leave a message for John Ruby,” Judy said, pressing the phone hard against her ear to block out the sound of the airport boarding call. “Could you ask him to text me? My name is Judy White and I’m calling about Dennis Cunningham. I’m in Sydney, Australia, and I’m going to be boarding a plane to the US in an hour. I’ll be on a plane for a while, so texting would be best. I think the plane has Wi-Fi.”
Judy gave the woman her phone number, reminded her of the country code, and spelled her name. She noticed a wine bar near her departure gate, and she sat on a stool and ordered a glass of red wine.
Her phone vibrated, and she saw the call was from the U.S.
“Hello?”
“Is this Judy White?” a man asked.
“Yes, who is this?”
“John Ruby, attorney at law here in sin city, USA.”
“Ah, yes. I was led to believe you have been retained to represent Dennis Cunningham.”
“I’ve been asked to represent Mr. Cunningham, but I haven’t decided to accept the case. My fees are pretty hefty, Ms. White, and I like to start there.”
“Do you require a fee before you even take the case?”
“No, but I need to know what the case is, and who the client is. I’ve been contacted by someone in the federal government who asked me to represent Mr. Cunningham, but I haven’t had time to contact the DA’s office. I don’t believe there are any charges yet. What relationship do you have to Mr. Cunningham, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I’m his friend. A close friend. I’m about to fly to Las Vegas, though it will take me a while to get there. I’m in Australia right now.”
“I see. Well, I’ll contact you by text since you’ll be on an airplane. The only thing I know about the case is what I read in the paper this morning. What time is it there?”
“It’s 2 p.m. on Tuesday.”
“Well, it’s 7 p.m. here on a Monday. I’ll know more tomorrow, or even later tonight. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you,” Judy said and hung up.
She took a huge gulp of wine.
Murder, she thought. Drugs. Prostitute. Dennis, what the hell happened to you? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I thought I knew this man.
There was now a uniformed policeman outside Dennis’s hospital room at all times. They had removed his restraints, but he noticed the medical staff were careful around him.
He was aware that he was in trouble for some reason, but that was all. Everything else was a blur. Every now and then, he felt a wave of anxiety overwhelm him: What is happening to me? What did I do? Why can’t I remember anything? Am I having a nervous breakdown? What happened to that woman? Did I hurt her?
Dennis heard some people talking outside his room, and then two people entered: a tall, dark-haired man in a white coat and a short, thin, blond woman with pale blue eyes.
The blond woman walked over to the bed and stared at Dennis intently, saying nothing.
He stared back, searching his memory banks for information on this woman.
“Dennis, do you know who I am?”
He stared, looking at her straight blond hair and her intense eyes.
“Not sure,” he said.
“Where do you live, Dennis?”
He shook his head.
“Where do you work?”
He shook his head again.
“Have you ever heard of a woman named Dr. Jane Forrester?”
Dennis tried very hard; he closed his eyes, considered the name, and came back blank.
“No.”
“Do you know why you’re in a hospital?” she said.
He shook his head slowly back and forth.
“Christ,” she said. “What the hell did they do to you? Those fuckers.”
“Who?” the man in the white coat said.
Dennis watched as they left the room.
“Hey!” Dennis yelled.
They returned.
“Can you get me out of here?” he said to the woman.
“No, I’m sorry, Dennis. I can’t do that.”
They left again.
The uniformed policeman poked his head briefly into the room, then returned to his chair outside.
Dennis felt tired, though maybe he was depressed. He closed his eyes and found himself lost in a strange dream that included a woman and a lot of blood. For some reason that he could not understand, he felt guilty about the woman who had blood on her.
He slept for a long time. He knew it was a long sleep because the next time he woke it was dark outside the hospital window.
Men’s voices could be heard outside his room. It was not quite an argument, but the conversation was strange.
“You’re the attending, Dr. Kellis, and we’d like your permission to talk to him. We have just a couple of questions. Nothing too heavy.”
“He’s very confused. We’re not sure what’s wrong with him, to be honest. He could have had a psychotic break, or perhaps it was drug induced. We don’t see any signs of head trauma. We’re just not sure what’s going on.”
“But can’t we talk to him for just a few minutes? He could help clear up a couple of things.”
“Let me see. Please stay here.”
Dennis watched the man with the white coat come into the room and stand next to him.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Cunningham?”
Dennis shrugged.
“Do you know where you are right now?”
“Hospital,” Dennis said.
“Can you speak? Are you having trouble using words?”
“Little.”
“Is your memory getting better? Do you know where you were last night?”
“No.”
“Does your head or neck hurt?”
“Maybe.”
“How often have y
ou done meth before?”
Dennis shook his head.
“You haven’t done it before?”
“No.”
“Well, just stay here and rest. I’m sure you’ll start feeling better very soon.”
He left, and Dennis heard the conversation continue outside his door.
“Not now, detective,” the man in the white coat said. “He’s still not cogent. Just give him some time.”
Dennis went back to sleep. It was easier to sleep than to talk.
Later—it felt like the middle of the night—Dennis heard voices outside.
“You’re a new cop,” someone said. “Been on the force for a while?”
“Couple of months.”
“Got an order to pull blood from this guy.”
“Let me see your name tag.”
“You rookies are funny. I’ve worked here longer than you’ve been alive.”
“Time to wake up,” a new man in a white coat said. “They’ve asked for another blood sample, pal.”
The man in the white coat tied a blue rubber strip around his left bicep.
“Squeeze this ball here, would you, pal?” the man said.
The man gently slapped the inside of Dennis’s elbow.
“Here’s a good one,” he said, fondling a vein with his gloved forefinger. “Just a little prick here.”
Dennis watched two vials fill up with his blood.
“OK, pal. Press this down until I get a band-aid. Good. Have a nice night.”
Dennis felt strangely numb, except for the slight discomfort where the band-aid sat.
Judy was somewhere near Hawaii, crammed into the aisle seat of the Qantas A380 when she received a text.
atty ruby here; have been paid a retainer by a louise nordland to represent cunningham. she said u will direct me. please contact me when u get to lv. no charges yet
Judy put down her phone on the seat-back table and tried to concentrate on the movie she was watching, but it was no good. She felt a crushing sense of sadness and fear. She thought she knew Dennis, but this latest turn was too much. Murder. She was a policewoman and knew all too well about murder and its aftermath. Her eyes welled up, and she discretely dabbed at them so that her seatmates wouldn’t notice.
Her phone vibrated again.
mum, where are u? grandma says u r going to states?
She texted back:
sorry trevor; a bit hectic now. will explain later. love u
Judy forgot to tell her son she was leaving. How quickly life comes undone with Dennis, she thought. Is all this worth it? Was Dennis worth it? She was not sure any longer.
At San Francisco International Airport, Judy had to change terminals to get the domestic flight to Las Vegas. While she was in the AirTrain she got a text from Louise: u in US yet?
yes, changing flights at SF airport. will be in vegas in 2 hours. where r u?
in dc; need to talk. call me at this new number asap. please buy a burner to call me. do NOT use my other agency number
Judy was jostled in the elevated train and held on to the stainless-steel post as if it were the only stable thing in her life. During the long, depressing flight to San Francisco, she had grown less eager to visit Las Vegas. She was not anxious to see Dennis, nor Louise or the attorney. She wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and curl up into a tight ball.
The flight to Las Vegas was only an hour and a half, but getting through immigration and changing terminals in San Francisco took longer. By the time she landed at McCarran Airport in Las Vegas, the sun was setting, and she was utterly exhausted. She pulled her roll-on through the airport with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner on work detail.
Judy stopped at a kiosk and purchased a disposable phone. She activated it and found that it was charged. She sat down and called the number Louise gave her.
“Louise, this is Judy. I have a disposable phone.”
“How are you doing?”
“So-so.”
“I can understand that. Must be a shock,” Louise said.
“A big shock.”
“Yes, well. I want to tell you a couple of things that are very important. I know you must be pretty tired and confused right now, but please try and pay attention.”
“Alright.”
“You sound really depressed,” Louise said. “Maybe we should talk later.”
“For god’s sake, Louise, just get going.”
“OK, here goes. I saw Dennis in person yesterday. He’s in very rough shape mentally but I’m pretty sure I know why.”
“Yeah, well, you cut up a prostitute like a roast chook, you’d feel a bit off too,” Judy said.
“Chook?”
“Nothing, Louise. Just go on please.”
“Judy, there is something else going on, and it’s related to Dr. Forrester’s disappearance.”
“Oh please—”
“Listen to me,” Louise said. “Just listen. When I saw Dennis yesterday, he was clearly suffering some strange cognitive issues. I talked to the attending physician, and there is no evidence that Dennis had head trauma. And yet he shows every indication of profound amnesia. The physician admitted that people who overdose with cocaine or meth can have psychotic reactions, but they don’t typically have such severe amnesia. Dennis didn’t know who I was, though I could see him trying to remember.”
“I think we know he’s not himself,” Judy said slowly, “but to be honest I don’t know who he is. I mean, I thought I knew who he was, but he’s always had a dark side…”
“Dennis is not that dark,” Louise said.
“Well, it seems that way now.”
“Listen, I’m waiting for a report. I’m pretty sure what it’s going to show. And assuming I’m right, then we need to be extremely careful. Use your burner to contact me, and don’t use it for any other communications to your family or anyone. If I ask you to use another phone, then buy a new one and toss the old one.”
“What?”
“And I’ve paid $10,000 to that attorney Ruby. He’s agreed to take the case. I gather this guy Ruby is pretty good. I think it’s safe to say once Ruby takes the case, that he’ll be under surveillance as well. So, think about that when you talk to him. Make sure Ruby understands that there’s something else at play, and he should be even more discreet than normal.”
“I’m sorry, Louise. I know I’m tired and depressed, but this sounds absolutely and bizarrely paranoid.”
“Hey! Do you want Dennis out of this mess?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then do what I say. Now go see Ruby.”
Judy hung up. Sitting in the terminal she was hunched so far forward that her face was touching the top of her roll-on suitcase. She sat up straight, looked around, and could see a mountain range in the distance through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows at the airport.
She stood and waddled her way to the taxi area, exhausted.
Something else at play, Judy thought, replaying Louise’s admonition. I really hope you’re right, Louise, because I’ve just about had it with Dennis. I can’t take his troubled, twisted world any longer.
They met in a small Italian restaurant two blocks from the Las Vegas Strip. Judy chose not to stay at one of the huge casino complexes, but instead at a Hyatt nearby. She took a short nap after calling Ruby, and then got up, showered, dressed lightly in a skirt and sleeveless blouse, and walked the five blocks to the restaurant. The evening was warm but very dry. She started out in the winter in the southern hemisphere and was now sitting in the summer in the northern hemisphere. Everything in her life was upside down now. The lights from the Las Vegas Strip lit up the sky.
Ruby told her to look for the “big guy” at the bar drinking a Crown Royal on the rocks.
She saw a broad-shouldered, heavy-set man at the bar talking on
his cell phone. He stopped talking when she stood next to him.
“Call you back,” he said into the phone.
“John Ruby?” she said.
“Yes,” he said standing. “And you’re Judy White?”
“In the flesh,” she said.
“Let’s grab a table, if that’s alright with you, Ms. White.”
“Please call me Judy. And yes, a table would be fine.”
“Jimmy,” he said to the bartender, pointing to the dining room, “on the table.”
“You got it, Johnny,” the bartender said.
He led her over to the hostess, who took them to an open table and produced two menus. Ruby smiled, but neither spoke as they sat down.
“So, for the record, this is a little unusual for me,” Ruby said, swirling his drink. “I was retained by someone who said she works for a government agency, and she directed me to answer to you on this case. I asked her to put it in writing, but she refused. She did provide a check for $10,000 that cleared the bank. So, I guess I’m using you as my contact. I’ve talked to the DA’s office and got some preliminary information, and I’m prepared to represent Mr. Cunningham. It’s a serious case, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” Judy said.
“But before we proceed, do you mind telling me what your relationship is to Mr. Cunningham? You were a little vague on the phone earlier.”
“I guess you’d call me his girlfriend.”
“I see. Well, that suffices. Where are you from? Your text said you were coming from Australia, and your accent seems to be from that part of the world, though I couldn’t tell an Australian accent from a New Zealand or a British accent if they waterboarded me.”