Mourning Dove

by Donna Simmons

  “Actually, I was going nuts with the invalid. When I’m at work Ron calls me almost every hour. At night I hear ‘Sara, I need’ over and over again. I have a new aerobic workout. Ten runs up and down the staircase. I can’t wait for him to get mobile again.”

  “How’s Leonardo getting along?”

  “Leonardo has a gift for homing in on a weakness. I think it’s that feline trait cats have for tormenting helpless mice. He’s been sneaking up to Ron’s room during the day and batting around anything left on the floor until it’s shredded. Well, lately he’s decided to camp out on the bed.”

  “I bet Ron’s having fits over that,” Cass said as she wiped her hands with the dishtowel.

  “At first, the cat just curled up on the foot of the bed. Ron said once Leonardo would settle he would begin his disgusting morning routine, wetting his paws with his furry tongue and wiping his face. Then, Leonardo would stand, stretch, and turn around in a circle, ever so slowly relocating his body closer to Ron. They’re like enemies sizing each other up on the battlefield before a fight. Yesterday, Ron was just drifting off to sleep – when the enemy attack came. Leonardo has a sadistic streak in him.”

  “Sara! Don’t leave it like this!”

  “Ron woke up to Leonardo plucking the soft cast from his foot.”

  “Plucking?”

  “You know how cats kneed their claws into a spot they want to curl up on. Anyway, pieces of the cast material were clinging to Ron’s bare toes and the cat was rubbing up against the destruction. When I got back from the office, I could hear Ron yelling before I could even get my key out of the front door. Allen had stopped over after work and banished Leonardo to the den with the door shut but Ron refused to do anything about the cast ‘til I came home and saw what that ‘demon cat’ had done. These are his words not mine.”

  “So what did you do?” Cass was still giggling.

  “I put the cast back together with duct tape. Stop laughing! It looked very space age by the time I was done.”

  “He got what he deserved. How could anyone not love a cat?” Right on cue, Merlin leaped onto her lap and began to purr.

  “What about the Brit?” Cass slid back into the comfort of her bentwood rocker.

  “We’ve had dinner together most of the week. When he’s with me I totally forget I’m a married woman.”

  “You’re separated and Ron is not flying solo in his bed – or he wasn’t before the accident.”

  “Hey what’s in the box?” Sara reached for a large flat rectangle wrapped in pearl gray and silver striped paper lying on the side table. “I like the fuchsia orchid taped to the top. Is it somebody’s birthday?”

  “It took you long enough to notice it,” Cass stroked a purring Merlin on her lap.

  “I had so much in me that just had to spill.”

  “The box is for you, hon. Open it.”

  “Cass, it’s not my birthday.”

  “It’s not that kind of gift. It’s from...Jordie.”

  Sara slid the large present onto her lap, gently plucked the orchid from the top, and lifted the blossom to her nose. “Is this one of yours?”

  “Yes, unfortunately it doesn’t have much of a scent. It’s pretty to look at though. I thought it fitting for the gift.”

  “Mysterious. Give me a clue?”

  “Nope, stop stalling and open it.”

  Sara slipped her hand through the opening, broke the tape holding the seam together, and peeled away the paper without tearing it. The canvas was face down. “Is it one of Jordie’s?”

  “Not from the show. It’s special.”

  Sara turned the two foot by four foot canvas over and stared at a beach scene of Jordie, Stacey, and Carl on a lazy summer day, maybe last year or the one before. Jordie was lifting a beach rose to Stacey’s nose. She had a wistful smile on her face. Carl, sitting on a stone ledge above them, had his arms circled around his legs. With his chin on his knees, the look on his face was pensive.

  “Cass, it’s beautiful.” Sara wiped the moisture leaking from her eyes.

  “Jordie said he painted the scene from memory and gave it to Carl for his birthday last year.”

  “This was Carl’s?”

  “It was.”

  “But it wasn’t in his place when we cleaned it out. How did Jordie get it back?”

  “About a week after Carl died, Jordie received it in the mail. I guess he sent it before he died. It was like he knew his time was short and he was giving it back.”

  “Why didn’t Jordie add it to the show? He was scrambling to get enough canvases to fill the exhibit. He should have used it.”

  “For some reason he just couldn’t. He has another canvas of the three of them. He said that you should have this one; the others you want from the show will be available after you get back from Chicago. But this is yours to keep from Jordie...and me...and Carl.”

  Sara propped her honored gift up on the chair beside her and blew her nose.

  “Hey, I thought this was a dinner invitation? Let’s eat.” Walking into Cass’s dining area, Sara turned back and looked at the painting again. She walked back and turned the chair so she could see the painting from the table.

  “Ron’s going to be jealous,” she added.

  “Jordie thought he might. He said he’s working on another for Ron of the two of them. He’s painting it from a photo taken just after graduation when they set sail from Casco Bay in their dinghy.

  “Ron will like that.” Sara kept glancing back at the painting. “Cass?”

  “Hmm?”

  “This is one of those three pictures in one, isn’t it?”

  “Yup, it didn’t take you long?”

  “Don’t tell me, I’ll figure it out.” She turned her head to the left and squinted. Then she turned to the right and began to smile. “I got it.”

  “Jordie thought you would.”

  Superimposed was a pair of boys, dressed as pirates, running through the hidden paths of Treasure Island. “Remember the picnics we had on Mother’s Day with the kids. We cherished those memories. They were always taking turns burying the treasure and then searching for it. I remember when Ron intentionally moved the big red X they used to mark the spot. They never did find that last chest of costume jewelry.”

  “The best times were always at Odiorne Point. Oh God, Sara, I’m sorry. That just slipped out.”

  ***

  “Hi Catherine,” Sara announced herself the next morning to Robert Starr’s secretary. “Is Matthew Farrell in yet?”

  “I’m sorry, Sara, he left sometime during the night. The spare office is empty.”

  “I thought we were meeting today to put on the final touches to Mr. Farrell’s keynote speech at the conference.” And I need to know what he found out about the code, Sara thought to herself.

  “You know these government men; they drift in and out like shadows. When he was here I hardly saw him,” Catherine added. “He left a note for you though. He was in a meeting with Mr. Starr when I left last night. I’m afraid I don’t know more than that.”

  “Thanks Catherine.” Sara stumbled over an awkward silence and reached for the folded piece of paper Robert’s secretary was offering. The print was blurry and she realized his desertion was more than she could handle at the moment. She walked out the door and collided with Jonathon Pierce.

  “Whoa, little lady, it’s not a good idea to read and walk at the same time.”

  He tipped her chin up. “What’s wrong?” he shepherded her back to the conference room at the end of the hall.

  “I didn’t expect you so soon. I thought your flight didn’t get in until eleven?” Turning toward the bank of windows on the far side of the room, Sara wiped at the tears on her face.

  “I caught the red eye. What’s got you frazzled?”

  “I got a speck of dust in my eye.”

  “Aha. Let me have a look.” He turned her back toward him and tilted her head to get a better view. “You want some water?”


  “No, I’m fine, really.” She tried to back away from his touch.

  “Then let me see your eye. Maybe it’s just an eyelash freelancing under your lid.”

  “Jonathon, it’s okay,” She lifted her hands up to ward off further contact. “Is Jack Randall settled into his new job?”

  “For the moment, he plans to fly back and pick up his family and possessions next week. I have a report for the board regarding the shenanigans I uncovered. You want to come with me while I deliver it to Robert?”

  “I’d like that, but it’ll have to wait ‘til he’s in. Catherine says he worked late last night and will probably not be in until later.”

  “If you’re sure you’re okay, I’ll just go and talk with her. I want a department meeting at one with everyone in my office. Please see to it, and Sara?”

  “Yes?”

  “Bring the phone and email logs for the past eight months.”

  ***

  In Jonathon’s office the department meeting was just breaking up. They were waiting for Robert Starr to arrive for an executive session on the ‘shenanigans’ report when Sara’s cell rang.

  “I’m sorry Jonathon; I have to take this.”

  She answered it in the hall by the elevators. “Yes, Ron, what do you want?”

  “Sara, they moved up my appointment. Can you leave early today and drive me?”

  “I’m right in the middle of a meeting. Can’t someone else drive you?”

  “You and Allen are the only ones I trust.”

  “Where’s Allen, then?”

  “He’s down in Boston picking up a special woofer for a client.”

  “What about Mrs. Alvarez?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “Mrs. Murphy across the street?”

  “Get real, Sara! If I had anyone else, would I interrupt your day?”

  It hasn’t stopped you before. “Then try to have it rescheduled.”

  “The next possible date is halfway through next week. The doc is going out of town for a funeral. By the time he gets back you’ll be in Chicago. I have to be mobile before you leave.”

  “Okay, what time is the appointment?” Damn it!

  “Four forty five, I need you here by four fifteen.”

  “All right, Ron, calm down. I’ll be there.” Closing her phone, she shoved the door open to finance, “It’s just like having a fifty-two year old baby with an ear ache.”

  “Did you say something, Sara?”

  “Nothing important, Louise.” Sara walked back into Jonathon’s office and closed the door.

  “I’m sorry for the interruption, Jonathon, Robert. I hope I didn’t miss anything.”

  “No, of course not, I just got here. Is everything okay at home?” Robert asked.

  “I need to leave in fifteen minutes. There’s been a scheduling change and in order to take off on time for the Chicago conference, I’m going to have to take care of this today. I’m sorry.”

  “Sara, did you get those phone logs I asked for?” Jonathon asked.

  “Louise has them.”

  “No, she doesn’t. I already checked.”

  “They have to be in the credenza behind my desk then. I’ll check before I leave.”

  Sara eased into one of the conference chairs and took a breath. Both men were watching her; she felt like she was on stage with the audience waiting for her performance to begin. Only she had no idea what piece she was supposed to perform. “Jonathon?”

  Jonathon picked up his pen. “In a nutshell, our former divisional comptroller, Cassidy, was feeding research information from our new communications chip to our competitor in bits and pieces, not enough to give them the whole package just enough to feed the cocaine habit he acquired after his move to San Francisco. He was also skimming funds from the company. He apparently had connections in the California Highway Patrol – high up and related. He OD’d and the powers that be called it a heart attack. His work had been lacking for quite a while. The reports began to look more and more disjointed and incomplete. Then of course, he died.

  “We sent Ross Gordon out there, and the first thing he did was cover up all the evidence. He began lying to you, Robert, about the state of things and telling me everything was fine, just disorganized. When Sara started to press the issue, his attitude toward women reared its ugly head. That’s where he made his worst mistake. And you know the rest from there.”

  “Jonathon, that doesn’t answer the virus in the computers or his threat to you.”

  “I know, Sara. The virus was sent postmortem from Cassidy. It was pre-set to go off through an email originating from his office. It looked like Ross had sent it, but the origination dates coincide with the last day Cassidy was in the office. It was an interesting bug.”

  “You’re telling me the bug was internal to the organization, not from an outside source?” Robert asked.

  “Like a contaminated water hole on the back range, just waitin’ to trickle down into the well.”

  “That doesn’t sound like something a drug addict could concoct. Who provided the virus?” Sara asked.

  “Ironically, his kid did. The little shit’s already in juvenile hall for creatin’ other viruses that have kept technology experts busy for the last three years. They’re hopin’ to try him as an adult.”

  “What parts of the new chip are compromised?” she asked.

  “Nothing we haven’t already changed. Cassidy was selling the research that didn’t work. His biggest damage to the company was the money he skimmed off the accounts in San Francisco, not the stuff he fed our competitors. Maybe they found that out and provided the final fix he OD’d on? We don’t know for sure,” Jonathon said.

  “And Ross’s threat to you?” she asked.

  “Near as I can tell, he was setting up false evidence to discredit my reputation in your eyes, Robert. Then, I believe his plan was to replace me as CFO. We’ve been looking at the phone and email logs in both San Francisco and here. Louise unearthed an interesting set of calls made from this office and Sara’s at two in the morning. Most during the time Ross was in residence at this division. That’s why I wanted to review the logs again. Sara, can you retrieve that file for me now?”

  She looked at her watch – it was already three fifteen.

  Ten minutes later she’d rifled through every file she had. The logs were missing.

  “Louise, can you come into my office, please?”

  Louise walked through with a pile of printouts in her arms. “What’s up?”

  “The phone log seems to have walked away. Do you know anything about it?”

  “I left them in the upright on my desk last night. With all the hubbub of Jonathon’s return, I haven’t spent more than a minute or two in my chair today. He asked me for them just before the department meeting and they’re gone. I thought you re-filed them since we worked on the orphan numbers together.”

  “Nope, I made copies of the dates in question and returned the file to your desk. Where’s Steve? Maybe he’s got the file?” Sara looked down at the time on her wrist.

  “He left for a dentist appointment right after you and Jonathon went into executive session with Mr. Starr.”

  “Check Steve’s desk for me and his files. I’ll call his cell and see if I can reach him.”

  After a last minute search, Sara walked back into Jonathon’s office with her overstuffed briefcase in her hand and her coat over her arm.

  “Jonathon, Robert, we’re unable to locate that file at this time. Louise and I searched the office and it’s nowhere to be found. We checked Steve’s desk. It’s not there either, but his file drawer is locked. I tried to reach him by phone but ended up leaving a message in his mailbox.”

  “Where is he, damn it?” Jonathon’s patience had finally run out.

  “He broke a cap at lunch. He’s at the dentist getting it repaired. It’s okay Jonathon. Just pull up the log through security. It won’t have the justifications, but you’ll have t
he dates, numbers, and phone locations. They’ll also have the email logs – but you already know that.”

  “Go ahead,” he looked at the time and shook his head. “Get out of here, Sara. I’ll see you tomorrow."

  ***

  In the car her phone rang again. “Sara, where are you?”

  “Ron, I’m on the turnpike. I’ll be there by twenty-five after. You’ll make the appointment, don’t worry.”

  “I worry about your safety every time you’re late – which happens almost every night.”

  “I’m okay, just very, very busy.”

  “Sometimes I worry about the Brit and you. Is he the reason you’re late today?”

  “I’m not late, damn it! We misplaced a file at the office and it took a few extra minutes to come up with an alternate solution. And, no, Matthew was not the cause for the delay. He left Tuesday night.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “When did I have time? My boss is back from California and we’re trying to get all the pieces put together for Chicago.”

  “I thought you were going with the Brit?”

  “Jonathon Pierce, Robert Starr, Matthew Farrell, and I are all going to be there at different times. It’s business, Ron! Wait a second; I’m going through the toll.” She slowed down through the EZ Pass booth.

  “Okay, where was I?”

  “Your mind is in Chicago and your body is driving south on the Maine Turnpike.”

  “I’ll be at my place – not yours – by Sunday night.”

  “I don’t know why you’re staying in Chicago for the weekend when you told me the conference will be over on Friday.” He was whining again.

  “You can reach me by phone if anything happens and I’ll let you know if Matthew discovers anything earth shattering.

  “He’s sure been mysterious since he left here last week. How come we haven’t heard from him?”

  “He’s busy, Ron. He doesn’t have to brief us every time he finds another piece to the puzzle.”

  “We’re Carl’s parents, he better well tell us what’s going on.”