by David Archer
Jack was still talking. “I haven't had any kind of luck finding an actual paying job since I got home last year, but I’ve got a decent VA pension. It's not a whole lot, but if we could do some kind of payments I'll pay you what I can if you'll see if you can find out who's behind this….”
Indie butted in.
“Jack, don't worry about it,” she said, “Sam does pro bono work sometimes, and he's short on it for this quarter. No charge.”
The look of relief on Jack's face put a big smile on Sam’s. Indie had lied through her teeth about being short on pro bono work, but they weren’t hurting for money at the moment. Sam didn't mind a bit.
“Okay, good, that's settled,” Sam said. “So, if I get this right, this Max is the best friend that your wife is supposed to be cheating with?”
“Yeah, but there ain't no way I'd ever believe it, not from either one of 'em. Me and Max went through basic and AIT together, I know this guy. He would never betray a friend like that, and my wife has stuck by me through so much already…”
“Then the best place for me to start would be paying him a visit and talking to him. I'm going to need to tell him about that note and what it says. Are you going to be okay with that?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, that’s not gonna be any problem. I'll give him a call and let him know some private investigator will be stopping by to see him.” He stood up slowly, with some difficulty, and Freddie got to his own feet beside him.
“That’ll be fine,” Sam said, “but do me a favor and don’t let him know much of what it's about. I want to gauge his reaction when I tell him what the note says. You're probably right and there isn’t any kind of truth to it, but it’s still possible I could spot something important simply from observing his body language.”
Jack nodded. “No sweat, Sam, I won't give away anything about the reason you're coming by. I'll just tell him a guy named Sam'll be comin' by, will that be all right?”
“That’s perfect. If you'll let Indie have your contact information, I'll give you a call as soon as I come up with anything to tell you.”
“Sam,” he said, “I just don’t know how to thank you, and I’m very sincere about that. You can’t believe how hard it is to cope with this kind of stuff, especially when you ain't got nobody to talk to, Sam.”
Sam shook his hand and said, “No problem,” and Jack made his way out the door with Freddie by his side, looking up at him lovingly. Indie and Sam watched as they got into a small car and drove away.
Sam turned to Indie and opened his mouth to speak, but the door opened again and a lady walked in at that moment. Sam suspected instantly that she must be Jack's wife, because she was also black, like him, and was looking through the window on the door to be sure that Jack and Freddie were out of sight as she shut it behind herself. As soon as she was sure they hadn't seen her, she turned to look at Sam and Indie.
“I hope you'll forgive me for this, and understand why I have to,” she said. “I'm Christy Wilson. That man who just left here was my husband, and I—please, I need to find out why he was here.”
Sam looked at her, a sad expression on his face. “Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I can't reveal that information. I'm required to abide by client confidentiality, just like a lawyer.”
The woman began to cry, but Indie quickly went to her and got her to sit down in a chair beside her desk.
“Please, I need you to understand,” she said. “It's not been an easy recovery for Jack, or for Freddie, either. To be honest, the dog is doing a lot better than Jack is; he still has a long way to go, especially, you know, in the emotional side of things. He's still having nightmares, and that plastic leg—he can use it to get around, but sometimes I see him when he doesn't know I'm looking. He just sits there and cries while he's putting it on.”
“I can imagine that's got to be rough,” Sam said. “Unfortunately, I still…”
“Jack's had a bad time of it ever since he got back. He always planned on an Army career, he never really wanted to be a civilian. Since he's not on active duty anymore, he's having a hard time just feeling like a man. He feels like he's not worth anything. It’s like he thinks that without that leg, he's not really a man anymore. He hasn’t had any luck trying to find a job, so he does a lot of volunteer work just to keep himself busy, and I'm doing everything I can to help him but sometimes I feel like…” She blushed a bit, and looked down at her hands. “He's trying hard, though, and—I haven't told him, yet, but we're going to have a baby.''
Indie's face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, Christy, that's wonderful! That should make him feel better, don't you think? Becoming a father?”
Mrs. Wilson smiled, but sadly. “I haven't told him yet,” she said. “He's been pretty withdrawn, lately. I saw where he jotted down a note about coming to see you this morning, so I took some time off work and followed him. I just wanted to find out what's going on, to see if I could help.” She suddenly began to sob, and Indie slid her chair closer to put an arm around the woman's shoulders. “I'm just terrified that something must be wrong between us, and I just don’t know what to do.”
Sam frowned. “Mrs. Wilson, I really do understand,” he said, “but I honestly can't tell you anything your husband spoke to me about.”
Indie turned to look at Sam and glared, but then she saw the wink he gave her. She stared at him for a moment, then turned back to look at Mrs. Wilson.
“Sam can't tell you anything, but I’m not bound the way he is. He came here because someone sent him a letter that says you were cheating on him with his best friend, Max, while he was overseas doing his duty. Don't worry, he doesn’t believe it, he’s just mad that anyone would say such a thing about you or Max. He just wants Sam to try to find out who's behind it.”
Mrs. Wilson suddenly looked shocked. “A letter? One that was made by pasting up letters cut out from magazines? I got one of those, too, just a few days ago, but I tossed it out cause I didn't want Jack to see it. It said he did all kinds of terrible things while he was in Afghanistan, like killing babies and feeding them to Freddie, just absolutely horrible things!”
Sam leaned forward. “Is there any chance you could find it for me?” Sam asked, but she shook her head.
“No, I'm sorry, I burned it up with the trash. I didn’t want there to be any possibility that Jack might see it. And just so you know, there isn't any truth at all in that crap about me and Max! Neither one of us would do such a thing, especially not to Jack!”
Sam sat there for a moment. “Mrs. Wilson,” he said, “I think you need to go home and talk to your husband. Tell him about the letter you got, and you should probably own up about following him here to see me. Let him know you talked to me about it and that I said you needed to talk to him.”
“Oh, my goodness,” she said. “Oh, he’s going to be so mad at me…”
“I don’t think so,” Indie said. “He’s your husband, and I think he’ll understand that you were worried about him. Talk to him, please.”
Indie gave her a hug and she finally nodded her head. Sam waited until the door was closed and then looked at his wife. “Good job,” he said. “Realistically, though, that client confidentiality applies to you, too. I just felt like she needed to know, and you took the hint beautifully.”
Indie tried to look innocent. “You mean I wasn’t supposed to tell her? I'm sorry, I didn't realize…”
“Yeah, right, Babe,” Sam said with a smile. “We might have broken a rule or two, but I think it was exactly the right thing to do in this case. Just another reason I love you so much, I guess.”
Indie dimpled. “Sam, surely you can help them, can't you?”
Sam got to his feet. “I'm sure going to try,” Sam said, “I'm going to go see Max. Go over that letter and see if you can figure out anything that'll help while I'm gone.” Sam leaned down and kissed her, then headed out the door.
3
Sam drove the Corvette to the address Jack had given him for Animal Partners, his GPS lead
ing him to it without any issues. He walked inside and a lady at a desk looked up and smiled, then asked how she could help him.
“I'm here to see Mr. Hernandez, if he's in,” Sam said. “I'm a friend of Jack Wilson.”
She looked him over briefly and Sam knew she had noticed his limp, which brought her to exactly the conclusion Sam expected. “Oh, you must be looking for a service dog, right? Come on in, I'll tell Max you’re here.”
It made sense, Sam figured. When a guy with an obvious bum hip walks into a place that provides services to wounded veterans, it's a reasonable mistake to take him for a client. He let it slide, figuring it would probably get him in to see Max faster than telling the truth would have done. A moment later, the lady returned and led him down a hallway. They passed a couple of doors and Sam could hear a lot of noise coming through them, the sound of dogs barking and other animal noises.
“Hey, what’s that screeching?”
The woman grinned at him. “That would be the monkeys,” she said. “We have a number of Capuchin monkeys, which are considered the smartest of the new world monkeys, and we train them to help people who are paralyzed. They can do an amazing number of things, like fetching water bottles, phones and such, or scratching an itch or changing a TV channel. They’re really quite amazing.”
Sam grinned. “Sounds like it,” he said.
The receptionist stopped at a door. “This is Mr. Hernandez’s office, just go right in.”
A big man was sitting in a chair behind the desk with a monkey perched on his shoulders, and he stood when Sam entered. The receptionist closed the door behind him, and Max Hernandez extended his hand. Sam shook it and noticed the man's grip was firm.
“You're looking for a service animal, Mr…”
“Prichard, Sam Prichard,” Sam said, “and no, I'm not. I'm actually here at the request of Jack Wilson, who I'm told is a good friend of yours?”
The monkey suddenly squealed and Hernandez broke into a smile. “Sorry, this is Mikey, and he got excited when he heard you say Jack’s name because Freddie is his best pal. Okay, yeah, he called just a little bit ago and said you’d be coming by. What can I do for you, Mr. Prichard?” He motioned for Sam to have a seat, and then took the monkey down off his shoulders as he sat in his own chair.
“Mr. Hernandez—”
“Nope, Max.”
Sam smiled. “Max,” he said with a nod of appreciation, “Jack paid me a visit today because he got what we tend to refer to as a poisoned pen letter. Someone sent him a message made like a ransom note, with cut-out letters and words, and saying that you and Jack's wife had an affair while he was overseas.”
Sam had expected Max to react with anger or shock, but he only leaned his head to one side and said, “You don't say?” He leaned forward and reached into a drawer, withdrew a sheet of paper and slid it across the desk to Sam.
It was made in the same way as the one that Jack had received, but this one was accusing Max of embezzling hundreds of thousands of dollars from Animal Partners. “I found this laying on my desk about three days ago,” he said.
Sam looked up from reading the note. “Who else can get into your office, when you're not here?”
Max shrugged his shoulders and grimaced. “Just about anybody, I guess. I never bother to lock it, so it's almost always open. The only full-time staff we have around here are myself and Janice, my assistant, and Nadine, the receptionist. She wasn't even in the building when I got it, though, she was off, had a doctor's appointment or something.”
Sam nodded. “So, has money actually come up missing?”
“Just a minute, let's ask the brains,” he said, then yelled out, “Janice? I need you to come here a minute!”
A woman Sam hadn't seen before came into the office and Sam got the impression from her walk and stance that she was probably former military, herself. Max smiled at her and nodded toward Sam.
“This is Janice Stewart, my assistant and second-in-command,” he said.
Sam smiled. “I've got an assistant like that, except mine has a habit of deciding that she's in charge, instead of me. Of course, she's my wife, too, so she gets away with it. Is yours like that?”
Max and Janice looked at each other, and both of them turned slightly pink. It was obvious that, while they may have had a terrific working relationship, these people also had a strong personal one.
“I guess she tells me what to do, sometimes,” Max said. “Thing is, she's usually right about what she wants me to do, so I tend to give in.”
Janice tried her best to put an angry expression on her face, but it was obviously just an act. She couldn't quite hold the smile back.
“The day I found that letter on my desk,” he said, “I called Janice in here and we went over the books together, three times. I can tell you that all of our accounts are in perfect order, and I'll be happy to let anybody audit them anytime they feel the need.”
Janice pointed at the letter. “I got a letter like that, too, the same day Max found his. Hang on a second, let me go get it.” She walked out of the office and could be heard rummaging around in an adjacent room. She returned a moment later and passed another of the letters to Sam.
You are a sexless bitch who couldn't get a man to look at you so you treat all men like dirt and you need to die
“Someone doesn't like you very much,” Sam said to Janice, and Max snorted.
“What's even worse is that it isn't true, not a bit. She's about the most popular person here, with the clients, the dogs, the monkeys, everybody. She knows exactly what it's like, coming back from over there and trying to start over.”
Janice nodded. “I was a truck driver in Iraq, and there were a lot of things that happened over there that I sure wish I could forget. I might not have it as bad as some of these men and women do, but I know exactly what they mean when they talk about nightmares. I care about the people we serve here, and as far as I know, I've never been mean to any of them.”
Sam believed her. Just like these folks, Sam knew what PTSD was all about, he knew what the nightmares were like, when you wake up thinking you're back in the situation that almost got you killed. He didn't believe they'd ever be abusive to anyone, nor abuse the trust that was placed in them as they carried out what was obviously the mission they had assigned themselves.
“Okay,” Sam said, “I think that's all I need for now. No, wait, one other thing. Check around carefully and see if anyone else with connections to your organization has gotten one of these letters and let me know. I don't believe this is about things that happened overseas. These are coming from someone who has something to do with you folks right here.”
Janice made copies of the letters she and Max had received and gave them to Sam. He took them and headed back to the office, but since it was almost noon, Sam called Indie as soon as he pulled out of the parking lot.
“Hey, babe,” she said, and Sam smiled.
“Hi, you sexy thing,” Sam said. “I'm on the way back, would you like me to grab us something for lunch?”
“Hmmm, best offer I've heard all day,” Indie said. “How about tacos?”
“Sounds good to me,” Sam said. “I'll swing by and pick them up and be home in half an hour.”
Sam made a stop at a place called Taqueria Rojo and picked up a half-dozen of their favorites, then broke a couple of speed limits to get them home while they were still hot. When they had finished eating, Sam looked at Indie. “Well, this case is already taking some odd turns. Jack's friend Max got one of those letters, too, and so did his assistant, Janice Stewart.” Sam showed her the two copies, and she read through them. “Whoever is behind these things is somehow connected to Animal Partners.”
Indie nodded. “Yeah, I agree, somebody who can get into the office whenever they want. Did you get a list of who they might be?”
“From what Max said, only he and Janice and their secretary have the keys to the building, but the secretary wasn't even there the day Max got his. It might be
one of the volunteers, of course; it could even be Jack. If he's messed up badly enough, he could be doing it himself and not even realize it.”
Indie shook her head. “I don't believe that it could be him. He was just in too much pain when he showed us the letter he got. I think if he'd done it, all we would have seen would have been anger. Anybody faking it would figure that's what we expected to see, don't you think?”
Sam shrugged. “You're probably right, but until we get some kind of a lead, we really can't afford to rule anyone out.”
They had eaten at their kitchen table, so they each grabbed a cup of coffee and headed back out to the office. Indie noticed the blinking light on the answering machine and checked it, then looked at Sam.
“Max Hernandez wants you to call him,” she said, and Sam took out his cell phone and dialed the number.
“Animal Partners,” answered the secretary, “how can I help you?”
“Max Hernandez, please,” Sam said, and was surprised when the secretary didn't even ask who was calling. Max answered a moment later and Sam could hear Mikey chittering in the background.
“Max, it's Sam Prichard,” Sam said. “I got a message to call you?”
“Yeah, thanks, Sam. We found out about three more letters that all seemed to appear around the same time. The only one who held onto it was Doctor Uhlrich, a retired physician who works with us to help out some of the vets. The one he got accuses him of dealing drugs, pushing painkillers and such, which is absolutely bullshit. The others are Nadine, the secretary—she got one that said she was ugly and smells, and then there's one of our volunteer trainers, Carla Peters; hers accused her of offering sexual favors to our clients. If anyone else got them, they're not talking.”
Sam thanked him and added the info to his notes, then turned to Indie.
“Whoever's doing this is out to ruin Animal Partners,” Sam said, but she frowned.
“You could be right, but look at the way all these letters seem to be attacking people from different directions. These kinds of letters are usually about revenge, but these sound kind of bitchy to me. I think you're dealing with a woman, here, Sam.”