by Marc Jedel
“Thanks for not letting the cat out of the bag. You were awesome.” I appreciated Raj helping me out. I liked my job and was pretty good at it when I spent time on it. However, I hadn’t focused on my work much since I’d heard about Laney.
Raj clucked. “It is always better to let a sleeping dog lie.”
I was sure he was grinning from ear to ear that he matched my animal idiom. “Touché. Be careful not to let marketing hear you be clever with a dog phrase or it will end up as a future feature we have to code.” Rather than continuing to try to one-up him, I switched topics. “I’m stuck. I’m pretty sure Rollag tried to hurt Laney but I also want to cross her other clients off the suspect list. She had this guy, Fernando Hernandez, on her calendar for Monday morning. There’s nothing else about him on her computer. Any ideas?”
I heard typing in the background. Raj said, “Oh,” his voice edged with apprehension.
“Oh, what?”
“You should not contact him.” Raj rarely asserted his opinion with such a definitive statement.
“What? Why? What did you find?” Now he’d succeeded in increasing my anxiety.
“I searched the internet for Fernando Hernandez. There are many articles about him.” Raj tried to change the subject back to the safety of engineering. “Let us talk about testing code instead.”
“Raj,” I insisted, “Read me the articles.”
Raj sighed. I could hear the slump in his posture as he realized I wouldn’t be dissuaded so easily. “Fernando Hernandez is the son of big Latin American drug lord. One article reports he moved here to start an outpost for their gang. Marty, this is very serious. We should tell police.”
I was confused. “Why would Laney be meeting with a drug lord? She’s in HR. These articles must be about someone else.”
Raj continued, “Here is article claiming he received a college degree in the U.S. and then had a ‘falling out’ with his father. What is ‘falling out’?”
“That means an argument,” I answered, distracted. “Still, it’s got to be about someone else. Laney’s only an HR consultant and she just moved here. She doesn’t know any gangs in Silicon Valley.”
“In engineering from San Jose State University.” Raj stated with conviction.
“Why would my sister meet with this guy?”
“This is very good question. Perhaps he did something inappropriate. Does not HR investigate such problems?”
“Yes, but in a drug gang?”
“Oh, look here.” In his excitement, Raj had forgotten I wasn’t next to him. “His degree is in software engineering.”
“Software?! Maybe Rollag hired him to crash the drone on Laney?”
“Perhaps he works at DroneTech and the drug gang is a side business.” Raj must have watched the same shows I’d seen growing up.
“I suppose it’s possible she learned that Fernando has a connection to Rollag and wanted to talk to him about Rollag. Maybe she didn’t realize he runs a drug gang.” What had Laney stumbled into?
The concern in Raj’s voice was clear. “You should not talk to him.”
This time I agreed. “Yeah. I don’t think I could scam a guy who runs a drug gang on the side. I’ll call the cop who’s investigating Laney’s case.”
Raj gave smart advice. Drug gangs made me nervous. So did heights, guns, cops, talking to our legal department and, recently added to the list, leaving complicated voicemails.
But, after hanging up with Raj, I faced one of my fears and left another voicemail for Mace. He needed to know that Fernando Hernandez might be working with Rollag to kill Laney. I needed him to check out any possible suspects who were also dangerous drug lords right away. After providing a brief background on Fernando, I made sure to let Mace know that I still believed Rollag was the master villain. I told Mace I would pursue another DroneTech contact, Daniel, to get proof and that I’d keep him updated. I couldn’t wait for Mace to get back from furlough tomorrow.
The more I fretted about it, the more Rollag and DroneTech bothered me. If anyone could crash a drone into her car and make it look like an accident, it had to be Rollag. Mace would appreciate my legwork so he could get a jumpstart on his investigation. I know I’d love to have someone find any bugs in my code while I was out of the office. With all my help, Mace would get to the bottom of this in no time.
Daniel Pope finally responded to my text. A whole half hour had passed. My mother wouldn’t have been happy if I’d been so rude as to wait thirty minutes before responding to a text from a friend, especially if the friend wanted my help to put my boss in prison for attacking his sister. Daniel seemed eager to have lunch with me and invited me tomorrow to DroneTech. I ignored the link to a self-improvement article that he included and agreed to lunch. If I couldn’t get Rollag on the phone, I’d corner him in the lion’s den. Now I only had to find some evidence of the lion’s guilt.
Before shutting her computer, I looked at Laney’s calendar one last time. The last entry on Monday still read “ME.” Me time? While I understood the concept, my own recent “me-time” consisted of drinking a beer while watching a Giants game from my couch. Laney has talked to me about how tough it’s been since her husband died unexpectedly. Mourning him while abruptly becoming a single mother to Megan and Skye would make anyone go at least a little crazy and crave some “me-time.”
I looked back at her appointments for last week to see if something else jumped out. Perhaps a previous client had taken a few days to organize the attack on her. Laney’s consulting business hasn’t reached critical mass yet as she had no other clients scheduled that week. On Friday, just a few days before she got hurt, she had a “Mani-Pedi” appointment listed at a nearby salon. I knew it. But if she just had her nails done, then Monday’s appointment didn’t make sense as a spa trip for “me-time.”
Had she scheduled a trip to a financial planner or a lawyer? If so, she’d have no reason to hide their name on her calendar. Had she used “ME” as initials to hide something, or someone, from her girls? I doubted she was ready to date again, but maybe she planned to meet someone and didn’t want the girls to see the name by accident. I checked the contacts on her computer. The file was empty. No surprise that Laney hadn’t yet figured out how to synchronize her contacts between her phone and her computer.
Oh, Laney. If only she had a tech-savvy relative to help. I needed to figure out what, or who, “ME” was. This could be the person who had tried to kill her. Picking up Laney’s phone to look at her contacts, I got frustrated again that it remained locked. In all the excitement of Skye and Megan talking to their mother, I’d forgotten to ask Laney for her phone’s password. I’d have to ask her tonight.
11
Wednesday Dinner
Finished with her homework, Skye brought out her science fair project and started taking notes. I wandered over. The plastic boxes of ants all looked pretty similar to me — clumps of ants swarming around as they searched and returning often to touch their antennae to neighbors. These ants looked quite enthusiastic in doing whatever ants do all day.
“So, why ants? What’s your project about?”
Without looking up, Skye corrected me. “These are Dorymyrmex insanus.”
“Insane dory what?”
“It’s a specific kind of ant. They’re a vulnerable species, almost on the endangered species list. I’m trying to figure out if they do better with different kinds of nutrients. They do well in very dry conditions.”
“Well, we’ve got a drought here,” I added, trying to be helpful.
“Duh. But these come from Texas. Some people call them Texas crazy ants.”
“Ha! When your mom and I were growing up, we sure had some crazy Texas aunts. And uncles too.” I laughed, remembering the odd assortment of family gathered at my uncle’s lake house during the Fourth of July parties.
Skye snorted but didn’t look up from taking notes on her project.
I took that as a go-ahead to tell her a story. Never needing much e
ncouragement, I continued, “You know, when I was your age, I started an ant collection in a plastic ant farm that I got for a birthday present from a friend. My mom, your Grandma, told me I couldn’t keep it, but I hid it in my closet without anyone knowing. I checked on it every day, but my closet was dark and I didn’t notice the ant farm got cracked. But your mother figured out I had a secret ant hideout in my room when she discovered them everywhere in her room. They weren’t crazy ants, but your mom sure went crazy.”
The twelve-year-old re-emerged from the budding scientist as Skye giggled at me. After that short break, she put her nose back into her journal to finish her notes on her ants.
At least I know the ants are in my apartment. Bored now that Skye had traded my company for science, I pulled out my phone to update my kids.
GROUP TEXT TO AMANDA, ELI
MARTY: Skye thinks ants are cool. Maybe she’s not really Aunt Laney’s daughter
ELI: Texas crazy ants are cool. They eat electronic stuff and no one knows why
AMANDA: I can’t believe I’m related to someone who knows something like that
MARTY: Me either. Gotta go
A call from the building lobby interrupted us. The grocery delivery guy had arrived.
“Hi, I’m here with your order. Most of it anyway. You know we only deliver food.” It was my regular grocery delivery guy. He’d never been grumpy before.
Bewildered, I asked, “What do you mean?”
“Your order included a puppy. At first, I thought you meant hushpuppies, but we don’t carry those. When I looked at the list again, it clearly showed just ‘puppy.’ That’s not funny, Mr. Golden. We don’t deliver live animals, only groceries.”
“Sorry for the, uh, misunderstanding. Come on up.” I had a good idea who had made the unusual grocery addition. Next time, I’d review the list after the girls added their requests. At least tonight’s dinner would be something besides peanut butter.
A short time later, we walked out of the apartment building. Or rather Skye and I walked and Megan skipped ahead as the sugar from tonight’s milkshake testing still coursed through her body. We reached the front lobby where Megan waved at us to hurry while she held the door open. A cool breeze blew in from the ocean as the typical Bay Area summer evening cooldown took place. The sky revealed another beautiful sunset, with colors painted across the sky behind the low mountain ranges to our west. Perhaps the only benefit of an extended drought lay in the enhanced beauty of the sunsets.
For once the Rover car pulled up to the door as we arrived. With a short walk from my apartment to the outside, I usually had to wait for the Rover car to show up.
Skye paused in the doorway as the breeze hit her. “I’m cold. I want to go get a sweatshirt.” She wasn’t yet accustomed to the impact of the Bay breezes, where our summer temperatures could hit the eighties during the day and drop by twenty degrees right after the sunset.
I tossed my apartment key fob to Skye who caught it and pivoted to head back for her sweatshirt.
Seeing the car, Megan said, “Awesome. I like taking Rover.” Without skipping a beat, she turned to Skye and yelled, “Fetch my sweatshirt too, please.”
The Rover car took off.
By itself.
Without us inside.
“What the hell?” I stared in extreme annoyance at the back bumper of the receding car.
“That’s a bad word,” came the immediate chant from Megan.
“Yeah, I know,” I snapped. “Rover’s not working right. I don’t know why it just left on its own. Something must be wrong. I need to check with Raj.” My mind churned as I tried to think about how this could have happened. The Rover car shouldn’t leave without waiting at least five minutes and signaling the customer first. I requested another Rover. While we waited, I called Raj.
“No, it cannot move if you just say ‘Fetch,’ ” said Raj. “I tested this feature very much with marketing this morning, you remember? They had me drink a lot of coffee.”
I chuckled. Remembering Raj’s caffeine-induced antics from this morning helped take the edge off the moment. “Well, it just left without us.”
“What is it that your niece said?”
“Fetch my sweatshirt,” I said, still annoyed.
Raj spoke with more confidence about his coding. He knew the strength of his own abilities. “No. The car does not move if you just say ‘fetch.’ What else is it that she said? “
“I’m not sure. She’s a kid. She doesn’t stop talking.”
Megan stuck her tongue out at me.
“What is it that she said right before ‘fetch’?”
I didn’t see the point. Talking about Megan wouldn’t help us figure out the bug. “I don’t know. I think that she was excited we were taking Rover. Then she asked her sister to fetch her sweatshirt.”
“This is it.” Raj’s self-satisfied nod radiated over the line.
That wasn’t it for me. “What’s it?” How had Megan magically developed the ability to make the Rover car drive off on its own?
Megan misheard me. “We’re getting It’s-Its?” she asked, referring to the ice cream bar, as a huge smile broke out on her face.
“No,” I said to her.
“What?” asked Raj.
I turned away from Megan’s disappointed pout so I could answer Raj. “Never mind. What were you saying about Rover?”
“You are to say ‘Rover Fetch’ and the car goes to get your coffee. Marketing thought that was funny. They think it will be very popular. I do not understand how Starbucks will know what coffee to make for a car.”
“Good point. And does the car stand in line to pick up a coffee for ‘Rover’? What’s their plan?” I asked.
“I do not believe marketing has a plan. You should tell marketing. I do not wish to do more testing. Today was much too difficult for me,” said Raj.
The second Rover car dropped us off in front of the hospital just after seven. I patted my pants to make sure Laney’s phone hadn’t slipped out of my pocket in the car. With the normal medical appointments over and most of the daytime staff gone home, the hospital was less crowded than yesterday. Skye bounded forward through the lobby and pushed the elevator button. Her pre-teen, cool self-image had lost the struggle of competing with her excitement to see her mother.
Megan sulked. “Hey, no fair. I get to push the button in the elevator.”
I walked a bit slower as my stomach didn’t feel great after our dinner. The girls had talked me into making spaghetti tacos for dinner. As if that’s a real thing. Who put actual spaghetti into a taco and ate it? They promised me that Laney made it for them. Yuck.
We got into the next elevator. I said, “She’s on the fifth floor.”
Megan pressed the button for five. And then she also pushed the buttons for six and seven. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced up to check my reaction. I grinned. I’m her uncle, after all, not her mother. A wide smile made her reaction clear.
When we got off the elevator on Laney’s floor, there were no cops around. I took a nervous breath. Laney was at risk again.
A different nurse from Tuesday morning sat at the central station idly clicking on her computer. I turned towards room 518 and the girls followed.
“Excuse me, sir,” said the nurse.
I paused, pleased that she had stopped me. “Yes? We’re going to visit my sister in room 518.” Maybe the hospital was still worried about their security after all.
Cocking her head to look at Megan, the nurse said, “Your little one there doesn’t look ten.”
“No, she’s younger,” I said, grateful that she hadn’t quizzed me on Megan’s exact age.
“I’m very sorry, but the hospital only allows children ten and older to go into the patient rooms after hours. She’ll have to stay in the waiting area.” The nurse pointed to the couches to the side of the desk.
Megan looked crushed. Her eyes welled with tears and she started sniffling. I felt terrible. I’d no idea the hospita
l wouldn’t allow her to see her mother. We’d talked most of the ride over about how much they wanted to tell their mother and how they’d hold her hand gently if she were asleep. I leaned over the counter to appeal our case. The nurse’s name badge read “Ellen.”
“I didn’t know. This is Laney’s daughter, Megan. She’s wanted to see her mother since her accident on Monday. She’s only been able to talk on the phone with Laney once with all the craziness from yesterday’s tragedy. I promised her we could go tonight and she’s been looking forward to it all day.”
A well-timed tear rolled down Megan’s cheek.
“Could she, maybe, just go briefly to see her mom, if she promises to be quiet?”
Nurse Ellen wavered. The floor was empty and quiet, quite the contrast from yesterday.
Skye rallied to the cause. “She’s super mature and acts like a ten-year-old. Please let us go see our mom together. I’ll make sure she’s like super quiet.”
I don’t know where the angelic look on Skye’s face came from but was most impressed.
Nurse Ellen caved. “Well … maybe just this once.” Looking at Megan, she said, “Do you think you can be ten for a little while?”
Megan perked up instantly. This demonstration of acting skills by both girls made me nervous for the future. Megan responded to Nurse Ellen, “Sure. I can be ten because then my mom said I can get earrings. Do you think I can get them now? Can nurses pierce ears? I want those circle ones where you can change the colors in the middle …”
She only trailed off when she noticed Skye making frantic shushing motions from behind Nurse Ellen.
Nurse Ellen glanced past us again, perhaps wondering if someone else had heard Megan’s manic display. “Not today sweetie, but I think I’ll come with you and then bring you back to the waiting area.”
The girls raised their arms to start to cheer, but I hushed them before any noise started.
As Nurse Ellen stepped away from the desk, she frowned as if she was reconsidering. “You know she’s asleep? The doctor gave her something for her pain and it put her out.”