by Ray Green
‘My name is Susan Turner. My late sister was recently admitted here for an autopsy.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said the other woman, but the compassionate smile had turned into a puzzled frown.
‘Did you say your name was Turner?’
‘Yes … I’m Julia Turner’s sister.’
The woman’s frown momentarily deepened, before the sympathetic smile reasserted itself. ‘Of course. Please accept our condolences on the shocking death of your sister.’
Juanita cast her eyes downward, as she effected her very best impression of a suppressed sob. She pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes.
‘I realise how upsetting this must be for you. Please, take a seat and let me get you a coffee.’
Juanita shook her head, dabbing away another imaginary tear. ‘Just a glass of water, please.’
She sat down on the white couch, before accepting the glass of water which the woman drew from the water cooler in the corner of the room.
‘Thank you,’ said Juanita, taking a grateful sip of the cooling liquid.
‘Now … how can I help you today?’
This was the critical moment. Julia took a deep breath before replying. ‘I’ve come to get a copy of my sister’s autopsy report.’
The other woman’s smile slipped, as her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Its normal procedure to phone ahead and make an appointment for anything like that.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry … I didn’t realise. You see I’ve just flown in from Los Angeles, and I thought it would save time to come straight here.’
‘I see … well, please wait there for a moment while I get Julia’s file.’
She moved back to her desk and withdrew a key from the top drawer, before turning towards a door in the back wall of the room. She unlocked the door and went into the room, leaving the door open; Juanita could see that it contained several tall filing cabinets. She watched closely as the woman opened the second drawer from the top of one of the cabinets, leafing through the hanging files until she found the one she wanted. She laid it on top of the open drawer and began perusing the papers it contained. Seconds passed, and then minutes. Why is she taking so long? thought Juanita. She took another swallow of water to lubricate her throat which, by now, felt like blotting paper.
At length, the woman picked up the file and closed the drawer, coming back into the main reception area and closing the door behind her. She sat on the other couch, set at right angles to the one on which Juanita was sitting.
‘Now, according to my notes,’ she said, maintaining the soothing, concerned tone of voice, ‘your parents have already identified the body and have had a copy of the autopsy report. And it seems that—'
This seemed like the right time to try to evoke more sympathy. ‘Oh my God,’ wailed Juanita, ‘how can my lovely sister be just “the body”?’ She grabbed another couple of tissues, wiping her eyes and smearing her makeup.
‘I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to … do you need a few moments to—?’
‘No … no, I’m alright, thank you,’ she sniffed, doing her best to sound anything but.
‘OK, well I’m sorry to have to ask you but … well, there’s no mention of any sister in the file.’
‘There isn’t?’ said Juanita, widening her eyes in fake surprise. ‘Then I guess Mom and Pop must have forgotten to mention it. You see, I haven’t seen them for around fifteen years … they didn’t exactly approve when I got pregnant at sixteen, and they more-or-less disowned me. I’ve been living in Los Angeles ever since.’ As Juanita looked into the other woman’s eyes she could not discern, from her expression, whether she believed any of this story. She pressed on anyway. ‘But when something like this happens,’ – she managed a slight hitch in her voice – ‘well, it kinda puts everything into perspective. I’m going to go and see them right after this to try and build some bridges.’
Juanita stopped, looking up at the other woman again to try and ascertain whether this tale was cutting any ice. From the pursed lips and furrowed brow, it didn’t look too good. Nevertheless, the woman continued to maintain the caring and considerate tone of voice, even though her body language and facial expression gave the lie to its sincerity.
‘I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but do you have any I.D. with you?’
‘Oh, sure … I have my passport here.’ She fished in her purse for the fake passport and handed it over, hoping that the confirmation of her fictitious name and Los Angeles address would help validate her story.
The woman’s expression softened a little. ‘Thank you. That all seems to be in order.’ She paused for a few moments before adding, ‘Would you mind just confirming your parents’ names?’
Thank goodness I did my homework thoroughly, thought Juanita. She replied without hesitation. ‘Sure … Richard’s my father, and Isabella’s my mom.’
Juanita’s confident reply seemed to mollify the other woman’s apparent concern: her expression relaxed as she glanced at the file, open in front of her, giving an almost-imperceptible nod. However, Juanita wasn’t out of the woods yet.
The woman closed the file and placed it on her lap as she made eye contact. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to clear this with my boss before I can release a copy of the report,’ she declared, standing up.
Shit! thought Juanita, now starting to panic. ‘Oh sure … of course,’ she said, trying to sound as calm and composed as she possibly could.
The woman went back into the other room and returned the file to its original location. When she came back into the main reception area, she locked the door behind her and returned the key to her desk drawer. ‘I’ll just be a few minutes,’ she said, striding towards a corridor at the side of the room.
Alarmingly, she was still holding the passport. Juanita was wracked with indecision: should she ask the woman to return the passport before leaving the room … or would that look too suspicious? But, within a couple of seconds, the woman was gone: too late now, anyway.
Juanita leapt to her feet, heart pounding furiously, and rushed over to the desk, pulling open the drawer. To her horror, the key was nowhere to be seen. She began frantically rummaging through the contents of the drawer: no sign of the damned key. Shit, shit, shit! Suddenly, it occurred to her that, from where she had been sitting, the perspective may have distorted her view of which drawer the key had been placed in. She slammed the centre drawer shut and wrenched open the top left-hand-side drawer. There was the key, lying on top of some papers.
Taking a deep breath to try to calm her nerves, Juanita stepped over to the door. Her hands were trembling so much that she took three attempts to insert the key in the lock, but once in place it turned easily. She rushed over to the relevant filing cabinet; this time she made no mistake about which drawer to open, and quickly located Julia Turner’s file.
She opened the file at the first page and laid it on top of the open drawer, rummaging in her purse for her cell phone to photograph it.
Shit! Her cell was out of charge. How fucking stupid of me not to check it before coming here.
She had, however, already noticed that the filing room contained a photocopier; she’d have to use that and smuggle out the hard copy. However, the autopsy report was spiral bound down one edge, so she wouldn’t be able to feed the sheets automatically; she would have to laboriously copy each page individually, folding them back each time to place on the glass bed. But how much time did she have before the other woman returned? There was no time to waste; she set about her task, working as fast as her trembling hands, and the painfully slow scanning speed of the machine, would allow.
She had only copied around half of the pages when she heard something outside the room. She stopped what she was doing for a moment to listen; the distant click-clack of heels on tiles was overlaid with the sound of two voices: a woman’s and a man’s. Her heart jumped in her chest as she realised the sounds were getting louder. Fuck!
Chapter 6
When Kyle Rich
ards returned to Eduardo’s Restaurant, the girl, Ana, who had previously served him, was not there. In her place was a shorter, slightly more heavily built woman – also of Latina appearance. She smiled at him as she came to take his order.
‘Hi, my name’s María. I’ll be your server today. What can I get you sir?’
Same script as the other girl, thought Kyle. Must be standard here. It was an absurdly trivial observation, he realised. I need to concentrate on the task in hand.
He smiled back at her. ‘Can I just get a cold beer to start while I choose?’
‘Oh, sure,’ she replied. ‘I’ll get that for you right now. Any preferences?’
‘Bud Light’ll be fine, thanks.’
She was only gone for a minute or two before returning with his beer.
‘Thanks, María. Uh, can I ask you something?’
She laughed. ‘Well that’s what I’m here for, so ask away. The cheeseburgers are real good.’
Kyle chuckled. ‘No, not about the food.’
She inclined her head, little crinkles appearing at the corners of her eyes as she gave a curious smile. ‘Well … what then?’
‘I was in here yesterday and had a chat with the other girl who works here, Ana.’
‘Yeah, well so do most of the guys who come in here,’ she laughed. ‘I gotta admit she is kinda cute.’
‘Well, yes she is,’ laughed Kyle, ‘but that’s not what I meant.’
‘Go on then.’
‘I’m trying to get in touch with someone, and Ana said you might be able to help.’
Her expression became even more curious. ‘So, who is it that you’re looking for?’
‘Her name’s Carla – she used to work here, and I gather you were good friends with her.’
Her eyes narrowed and her tone immediately changed. ‘Yeah, she and I were friends. Why do you want to get in touch with her?’
It was an obvious question to ask, and Kyle was prepared for it: he had decided that it would be best to be completely honest. He swallowed hard before replying.
‘About a year ago, my girlfriend was murdered.’
She gasped, her eyes widening and her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ shape. There was an almighty crash as the metal tray she was carrying fell to the floor; every face in the diner turned towards them at the sound. Fortunately, she had already set down the beer on the table. She seemed rooted to the spot as the colour drained from her face.
‘Let me get that,’ said Kyle, leaning over and picking up the tray.
The other diners quickly lost interest and returned to their meals and their conversations.
‘Sorry to have shocked you like that,’ said Kyle, ‘but I wanted you to realise how important this is.’
María finally found her voice. ‘I … well, when you just come right out with something like that it’s kinda …well …’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘Look,’ she continued, ‘I’m real sorry to hear about your girlfriend but what does that have to do with Carla?’
‘Carla was her best friend. I think she might know something about the murder.’
María shook her head. ‘No … Carla would never—’
Kyle raised his hand, palm-outward. ‘No … I’m not for a moment suggesting Carla was involved but, before she disappeared, she left me a note. The police never solved the case but, from Carla’s note, I’m sure she knows something about what happened.’
María backed away slightly. ‘I … I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. I haven’t seen Carla for over year. I have no idea where she is now.’
‘Do you at least have a phone number or email … any way I could contact her?’
She shook her head. ‘Sorry, no … nothing.’
But Kyle had picked up the way she broke eye contact as she made this assertion.
‘Are you sure there’s no way? I’m desperate, and you’re my only hope.’
He thought he detected a hint of sympathy in her eyes, but she remained resolute. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know where she is or how to contact her.’
‘OK,’ he replied, shoulders slumping in defeat, ‘well, I guess it always was a long shot. I’m really sorry to have upset you like that just now.’
Suddenly, the mood changed; she seemed to shake free of the nervous veil which had descended upon her. ‘It’s OK … like I said, I’m real sorry about what happened.’ She hesitated before taking a notebook from her pocket and adding, ‘You still want something to eat?’
‘Sure,’ said Kyle, smiling as he sought to continue lightening the mood, ‘I’ll go with your recommendation and take the cheeseburger.’
She nodded, jotting down his order and turning away towards the kitchen. He had the sense that she was relieved to have terminated their discussion.
Kyle was convinced that this woman knew more than she was admitting to. He was, however, ready for this eventuality. Now he would put into action his pre-prepared plan.
Chapter 7
Juanita was out of time. There was no way she could return the file to its proper location, get out of the room, lock the door behind her, return the key to the desk drawer, and get back to the couch in the few seconds – at most – that she had left. The only thing to do now was run.
She gathered up the pages she had copied, grabbed her purse from where it lay on top of the filing cabinet, and rushed back into reception, leaving the original report on the photocopier and the key in the lock of the open door to the filing room. The clacking of heels on the hard floor sounded alarmingly close now.
She rushed towards the main entrance, wrenching open the door just as a woman’s voice sounded behind her.
‘Excuse me Miss Turner, but—’
Juanita didn’t look back; the moment she was outside, she broke into a run. She didn’t break stride or glance back once as she sprinted away. It took her but a minute or so to reach James in the waiting car. He must have seen her coming, for he already had the engine running and the passenger door open as she approached. She leapt into the passenger seat and slammed the door; with a brief chirrup from the tyres, the car pulled out into the dense stream of traffic. Only once they were underway did Juanita risk a glance over her shoulder, her heart pounding and her breath coming in desperate gasps; there was no-one following. Thank God!
‘What happened?’ said James, stealing an anxious glance in the rear-view mirror.
‘They …’ – she had to pause to gain control of her ragged breathing – ‘they almost caught me. The woman in there seemed suspicious: she asked me a bunch of questions … which … well, I think I answered them OK, but I could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced. In the end she asked me to wait in reception while she went to check with her boss.’
James glanced anxiously across at her. ‘So,’ he said, checking in the mirror before twirling the wheel to make a left turn, ‘what did you do?’
‘Well, while she was talking to me, she had the report right there in her hand, but when she went off to see her boss, she didn’t take it with her; she put it back in the filing cabinet where she had got it from. It was in a locked room, but while she was gone, I managed to get hold of the key and find the report.’
‘Is that it?’ he said, casting a glance towards the slightly crumpled pile of papers on Juanita’s lap.
‘No. I thought it would be too risky to take the original report, so I decided to copy it. I thought I’d have time to make the copy, put the original back in its proper place, and lock the room before she came back. That way they’d never even know that a copy had been made.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Unfortunately, she wasn’t gone for as long as I’d hoped. I was in the middle of copying the report when I heard her coming back. She was talking with some guy – probably her boss. There was no time to do anything but run.’
‘Oh Christ!’ he breathed. ‘Thank God you managed to get away. If they’d stopped you and called the cops, we’d be in deep shit now.’
‘I guess so,’ she agreed.
‘Anyway, how much did you manage to copy?’
She sighed. ‘Only about the first half, I’m afraid.’
‘Well, I guess we’ll just have to hope that’s enough. At least you got away safely; that’s the main thing. I should never have let you take such a risk.’
‘There’s something else,’ she said.
James had obviously picked up the anxiety in her tone. ‘What? What’s the matter?’
She exhaled loudly enough for him to swivel his head towards her. ‘They have my fake passport.’
‘What? But how—?’
‘The woman took it away to show her boss, and when they were coming back before I’d finished copying the report, I had no choice but to run for it and leave the passport behind.’
‘So that means …’
‘… they have my photograph,’ she confirmed.
‘And it won’t take the police long to discover that the passport’s a fake,’ he added.
Juanita summed it up. ‘So, they know what I look like, they know I was using a fake I.D. and they know I was digging into the autopsy details of a murder victim. That probably makes me …’
‘… their prime suspect,’ muttered James. ‘Shit!’ he hissed, slamming his hand down on the top of the steering wheel.
Chapter 8
Kyle Richards was a telecoms engineer by profession, and this was one occasion when his technical knowledge would serve him well. While waiting for the server to return with his cheeseburger, he took from his pocket a device which looked rather like a normal smartphone, except that it was a little bulkier and had four conventional keys below the touchscreen. He put it down on the chair alongside him, next to the baseball cap he had laid there when he first sat down. He pressed the on/off key, and within a second or so the home screen appeared. A couple more taps and swipes took him to the screen he wanted. Now he would be ready to activate his plan with just a single key press at the appropriate time. He covered the device with his baseball cap to ensure that no-one would be able to see it. Now he waited, taking occasional sips of his beer. In spite of the over-zealous aircon, Kyle was sweating profusely.