The Puzzle

by Peggy A. Edelheit

  But first I had to check my email. I had only one incoming. Not surprising, since I’d kept a low profile, but this appeared out of the ordinary. It was an unfamiliar email address, sent specifically to me. It wasn’t red flagged or virus infected either. I clicked on it, cautiously interested and instantly regretted opening its ominous contents, which read, “Don’t you get the message? You’re naïve. Stop digging up the past before you get hurt.’”

  My face burned in annoyance from this personal affront. What was I supposed to make of the warning? Who sent it? Was it someone I interviewed, and all of a sudden they didn’t like the direction where my questions were pointing me?

  I clicked reply and typed, ‘Why this warning? What are you concerned about from the past that I might expose?’ I clicked send and waited. And waited. And waited.

  At last, after a half an hour, a reply finally arrived. ‘Like a repeat offender, you don’t know when to stop, do you? You’ll find out what’s in store for you in due time.’

  I hit reply. ‘I don’t scare that easily anymore. Take a hike.’ I clicked send, and then shut down my laptop. If anything, one thing was dead certain in my mind. That particular subject was not open for discussion any longer.

  Chapter 56

  Who’s Sorry Now?

  We met at the agreed-upon time for coffee. Where else? You guessed it. The diner. To be inconspicuous was to be conspicuous. In his case, I thought it appropriate. The two of us seemed to accomplish more over coffee or food than at any other time. I’m not sure what that said about our relationship, but it must mean something.

  “Ah, we meet again,” Clay greeted, cheerfully. “I personally would have chosen something a little bit more remote, later in the evening and somewhat subdued, but I guess, I can’t complain.” He glanced around. “I can certainly overlook the rattle of pots and pans and people talking loudly in the background if you can.”

  “Cute. You must coach me in the future with some of your witty conversational quips. That distinct style of repartee is actually quite unique.”

  “Touché. Nice comeback,” Clay replied, smirking. “What have I done to deserve yet more of your endearing, clever remarks and another cozy get-together so soon?”

  “I want to ask you this: Do you think we have an honest give-and-take relationship?”

  He looked uncertain. “…Have I done something wrong I’m not aware of yet?”

  “It’s what you haven’t done that I find objectionable.”

  “I distinctly do not like the direction this conversation is taking. What’s the problem?”

  “What sort of game have you been playing with me, Clay, and why?”

  “What do you mean?” he shot back. “The way you’ve been acting lately, Sam, I might ask the same thing from you.”

  That stopped me. “…What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, come on. One minute you’re jumping down my throat and the next minute we’re having intimate dinners. You did enjoy that Italian food the other night, right?”

  I shook my head in confusion. How did this conversation get so turned around? This was not where I intended to go. “Hold on a minute. Why weren’t you honest with me to begin with?”

  Clay frowned. “You know, having conversations with you are an actual challenge. Somehow everything ends up being incoherent. How do you manage that?”

  “Okay, stop with the misleading conversational detour here. I really admire the way you turn things to your favor, but let’s leave it at that. I’ll try once again, but will be more specific. What do you do for a living?”

  “I own a bookstore?” he half asked and answered.

  “Bzzzzzz! Wrong!” I announced. “Please, be my guest, and try one more time.”

  “Where’s this headed?” he asked uneasily.

  “Precisely where you think it’s going.”

  “…Well, I do some investigative work. Is that what you are looking for?”

  “Bingo!” I announced. “You get the prize.”

  “And that is?” he asked warily.

  “You get to tell me why you and everyone else are manipulating me.”

  “Okay, now it’s my turn,” he tossed back.

  I rolled my eyes, leaned back and crossed my arms in frustration. “Go for it. I’m obviously not getting anywhere.”

  “What are you really involved in?” Clay asked. “You don’t seem to be the grieving widow anymore. You’re… You’re…more aggressive and angry. Why the turnaround?”

  “I keep getting conflicting stories. I get led so far, and then I’m turned in another direction. What is going on here? I came to you to get some answers and I’m not getting any, just the runaround. It’s very nerve-wracking.”

  I didn’t trust anyone, including him, but still needed those elusive answers.

  He leaned forward. “To be honest with you, I have to be careful what I say.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m engaged in an ongoing investigation involving Stephen.”

  Stephen? “…What for?” That puzzle piece flew by me too fast to grab hold of.

  “He hacked into a private company’s computer data base and they hired me to investigate. I’ve been involved since his so-called unexpected death.”

  If I weren’t already sitting, I would have been by this point. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “I wish I were,” Clay answered, without even the slightest hint of humor or sarcasm.

  “Does this have to do with what everyone is looking for?”

  His eyes held steady on mine, and then he nodded. “To be quite honest? Yes, Sam, it does.”

  I pushed further. “…Does Stephen’s death have anything to do with …what he found out?”

  “I know you might have your theories, but I can’t answer or speculate on more. Want my personal advice? Take the safe route and stay out of it completely.

  “I can’t, and you know that.”

  “All I can say is that I can’t help you any further. I’m truly sorry, Sam.”

  Chapter 57

  Will Someone Turn On This Mike?

  I parked in the parking lot at the construction site. It was dark and dreary outside, a direct reflection of my current mood. The weather forecaster predicted a drizzly, chilly afternoon, and I predicted an imminent cool reception from Mike. Some days I was right on the money with my forecasts. If only I could have the same predictable power over the outcome of my life.

  I didn’t call beforehand, and felt relieved Mike was still working. I considered and reconsidered over and over, asking myself the same question. Who should I speak to first to get to the truth? It was a toss-up: Mike or Ben? Mike wound up my logical first choice because maybe his animosity for Ben might reveal something significant.

  “Samantha. What do I owe this unexpected visit to? Should put on my bullet proof vest.”

  Perhaps our last encounter hadn’t set well with him: too bad. I’d wasted enough of my time running around in circles.

  I eyed him dead on. “That shouldn’t be necessary… yet.”

  He shifted uneasily. “What was that supposed to mean?”

  I was into my new take-charge attitude. “Why were you meeting with Ben recently?”

  “Boy, you don’t let up, do you?”

  “Look, I have to do whatever it takes to get the truth. I’m tired of everyone’s run around.”

  “What do you want to know this time?”

  “Come on, Mike. Don’t play dumb with me. You were spotted deep in conversation at TJ’s tavern with Ben the other day. And don’t try denying it, either.”

  “How are you finding all this out? For someone new to this area, you seem to have a steady supply of information flowing your way. How you root out even the most confidential and specific details, is mighty surprising. I have never seen anyone so single-minded and focused.”

  “You know, I think you’re right.” I leaned back, already expecting a snide comeback.

  “Why, it wouldn’t eve
n surprise me if you were privy to that conversation at the tavern.”

  I stared back at him, still smiling. “As a matter of fact, I was.”

  His jaw-dropping look said it all. “You’re joking?”

  “No, I’m not. Why did you go to all that trouble to convince me you despised Ben, when here you were plotting with him in TJ’s?”

  Would I finally get the truth from someone?

  “Wait a minute. I wasn’t exactly plotting with him. I think you’re jumping the gun here.”

  “Then what do you call it?”

  He wasn’t giving in that easily like I thought he would. Like me, he was trying to play it safe without giving away too much: not sure exactly how much the other one knew.

  I smiled. “Well? I’m still waiting.”

  “What makes you think I would be plotting with Ben?” he said, now noticeably concerned.

  “Would you rather I go ask Ben? He does tend to get careless.”

  Mike was clearly annoyed by that alternative. “The guy does not know when to shut up.”

  I smiled, deliberately letting him simmer. “He’s been a fountain of info and willingly.”

  He sighed. “…That’s what I was afraid of. He gets an idea in his head and just runs with it, not thinking of the consequences or fall out.”

  “You mean he wandered off the reservation, not following your particular agenda?”

  Mike eyed me, coolly. “It’s your choice to look at it anyway you want.”

  I had to keep pushing and tried once again. “I have one simple, but important, question.”

  “Go ahead,” he said, his eyes fixed on mine steadily.

  I held my patience in check. “Did you steal what Ben blatantly accused you of taking?”

  He sucked in his breath. “So, it’s true. You did hear our exchange. Where were you? I certainly didn’t spot you anywhere.”

  “I wasn’t the one listening in. I have witnesses who eavesdropped.”

  “You mean there was more than one person who overheard our us talking?”

  “I’m afraid so, Mike,” I said calmly. “Multiple witnesses are so messy, don’t you think? Not to me though. I look at it as an important element in accuracy. You’re familiar with corroboration, right? It’s going to be hard to dispute some of those statements you both made.”

  Hey, if this is what Clay did all day, I was in the zone too.

  His eyes bore into mine. “Which are?”

  “Why you were interested in getting your hands on Stephen’s laptop and notes.”

  Mike leaned back, thinking, then shrugged. “I was just trying to help Jack, that’s all.”

  “What do you mean help Jack?” Now, that was an angle I hadn’t considered.

  “Don’t act so innocent, Sam. It doesn’t play well with me. You recently found out Jack searched for his son years ago, right?”

  …Okay. So, besides Ben, Mike knew too. “Yes.”

  His eyes held mine. “I discovered to my dismay, Jack was still looking. I learned some time ago he actually thought it might be Stephen. Not that I was jealous, mind you, but why he would make that mental leap was beyond me. Just because Stephen had a few similar traits and the birth date was about right? Ridiculous! You’d need more than that to try and convince me.”

  “So you think he was overreaching for something that wasn’t there?”

  “Absolutely. But without Stephen’s laptop to back up my theory and disprove Jack’s, it was futile to argue my point. I needed to physically see Stephen’s notes. I had to know what information he came up with. You have a problem with that reasoning?”

  I had to admit, it sounded like a rational and logical response to me, but I was still skeptical.

  “So, what happened? Where is the laptop?”

  He shrugged, his face tingeing pink. “I hate to admit this, but I was outfoxed.”

  “What do you mean outfoxed?”

  I guess I wasn’t the only idiot walking the streets in this town.

  “By the time I had my hands on that laptop, somebody else got there and snatched it right from under me. I can tell you, I was very upset. That was what Ben and I were arguing about. He knew I had stolen it. Then it was stolen from me before I could even get it opened. Have you any idea how frustrating that was?”

  I laughed at the irony. “I hear you loud and clear. So close and yet so far.”

  Chapter 58

  Pressure Points

  I swear, if I had to walk through those doors one more time, I’d have to pick up some food, just to prove I knew what they sold there. I knew it was probably already too late to save my reputation. And Ben was the absolute last person I would be inclined to see again, plain and simple, but I was anxious to hear if he would contradict what Mike had said.

  Ben beat me to the punch, abruptly grabbing me from behind and quickly ushering me off to the side. “Sam, I have to talk to you privately,” he whispered, clearly upset.

  “Okay.” I let him lead me toward his office. “What’s the problem?”

  This edginess was totally out of character for Ben.

  “Have you any idea what’s going on?” he asked. “I’m under a lot of pressure here. This is getting out of hand. And I’m tired of being threatened and coerced.”

  I sat down even though he didn’t ask me to. “What do you mean, threatened?”.

  He looked around, shut his office door, and then sat down as well, clearly on edge. “I received an anonymous note, ordering me to back off. I mean, what the hell was that all about?”

  “Back off from what?”

  “From talking to you, that’s what! Now, who do you think would try and warn me off like that? That’s what I want to know!”

  “Why do you think someone doesn’t want you talking to me?”

  “Maybe, they think I know more than I’ve told you about Stephen.”

  “Well, do you?”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Ben replied, noncommittally.

  “What about Mike? Do you think he might do something behind your back?”

  “No. And don’t expect a shocked look from me at the suggestion. Mike called right after you left him, warning me ahead of time you were probably headed this way.”

  “Are you positive it wasn’t him?”

  Maybe, they were playing off each other. Anything was possible at this point.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. If Mike had an issue with someone, he’d deal with it directly and wouldn’t bother with that type of approach. Trust me. He’d be right in your face.”

  “I have to agree with you. That sounds more like him.”

  “Do you have any idea who it might be?” he asked, anxiously. “Or why?”

  “Not off hand. I’ve spoken to several people regarding Stephen. It could be any one of them. But what’s the purpose of this one note? I just don’t get it, Ben.”

  “…Well this isn’t the first note I’ve received,” he admitted tentatively, eyeing my reaction.

  “There were more?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many did you get?”

  Was Ben another recipient from the same person responsible for my notes?

  “In the last few weeks, I’ve gotten two others.”

  Three notes: the same as me. Symbolic? I wasn’t sure, but it sure seemed odd.

  “What did the second note say?”

  “Pretty much the same as the other. This last one, though, finally got to me.”

  “What was so different about the last one?”

  Ben just stood there, rooted in place. “It said, ‘Remember Stephen? Back off. I can’t guarantee your safety.’ Well? What do you think?”

  “I agree. You’re right, Ben. You’re under a lot of pressure.”

  A point well noted by the both of us.

  Chapter 59

  Notes Of Reflection

  I parked myself in front of my laptop to go over the three typed notes delivered to me in the mail. After presenting Ben with a compelling plea and using
some friendly persuasion, I had finally convinced him to give me the typed ones he received. As I sat there, carefully setting the notes side by side, comparing his three notes to mine, I was heartened by our newly-acquired element of trust we had established. Would it last? I knew he’d want them back, so I got busy comparing.

  They all appeared to be printed on similar types of paper. Also, there seemed to be a slight mark in the same exact spot on each, but I couldn’t determine exactly what it might be to identify it. With my luck, it was nothing more than simple grease stains. I noticed the quality of the paper was costly though. The one who sent these notes had expensive taste: a red herring?

  Whoever sent these maybe wanted me to come to that same precise conclusion to throw me off track. That theory made me realize that it could have been anyone who sent them, regardless of their income or lifestyle. So that issue quickly became a moot point and probably was another dead end. So I let it go. I sat there, thinking it through.

  Why would someone go to all this trouble? Why target me, and then Ben? Was it because I was digging too deep and getting closer to the truth because of Ben’s help? Why bother sending us these notes at all? Was it nothing more than a scare tactic and a distraction to confuse me as to who and what they were really after? What appeared to be my main priorities at the moment was to pay attention, continue my interviews, and be more guarded and focused.

  And of course, watch my back.

  Chapter 60

  When I Have A Flat, I Use My Jack

  I was actually looking forward to this meeting. Since I had last spoken to him, I was highly interested in his opinion on these latest developments. I was at a dead end and flat out of alternatives and figured why not? What did I have to lose? Would he shut me out, lie, or let me know what he was really thinking?