Season of Sacrifice

by Bharti Kirchner

  She’d spent a sleepless night, sweating and drinking water, and a miserable morning, too spent to concentrate on any work. Late in the day, he’d called to say he’d been caught up in a drug case. He’d apologized in broken phrases, his voice weak and edged with guilt, and did plenty of throat-clearing in between delivering an avalanche of excuses.

  ‘For a day or so afterward, Justin was exhausted, but he stopped by and talked about the bust.’ Maya’s voice was soft, faraway. She felt embarrassment from sharing so much with both Veen and Annette, especially since she didn’t know Annette all that well. With a force of will, she overcame an inner resistance and continued, ‘Come to think of it, we never celebrated our anniversary, never saw that movie, never went to that restaurant, either, because he got busy after that.’

  ‘Shall I continue?’ Annette asked Maya.

  ‘Yes.’ Maya’s voice grew stronger. ‘I want to hear it all.’

  ‘Here’s the rest. I’m speaking like a reporter, but let me warn you, it gets worse. I had a hard time with it myself when I heard it. The drug king – the head dog as they called him – a man known as X-311, was booked into the jail. While he waited for his trial, his darling Jennifer was alone but not for long. Can you guess who that calculating bitch enchanted next?’

  For a moment, Maya lost her breath. How could Justin have continued to see her and yet carry on with another woman? He’d shattered her trust, never mind the sordid circumstances. How clueless she’d been. How right Veen had been about Justin all along. The fact that Justin was lured by Jennifer’s looks also grated on her. Now she asked an invisible Justin: Were you that shallow and that stupid and I didn’t see it?

  Veen, struggling with the weight of the report, gave Maya a reassuring look.

  Maya nodded to Annette. Go ahead. Torture me more.

  Annette smiled sadly. ‘The cops continued to do what they usually do in these cases. They investigated further and Jennifer, the sleaze, was also tried in court on charges of drug trafficking conspiracy and sent to jail. She turned the state’s evidence and had her sentence shortened.’

  ‘I see where you’re going, but please proceed.’ Maya’s tone was dead, as if she couldn’t be hurt any more than she’d already been by this man whom she’d loved and trusted.

  ‘Jennifer was pregnant then. Justin Jr was born in prison.’

  Maya took a hard swallow; her eyes felt strained. Although the answer was obvious, she went ahead and asked, ‘But how can they be so sure of the paternity when Jennifer had been living with at least one other man?’

  ‘DNA tests, of course.’

  ‘You mean there’s no privacy anymore?’ Veen said.

  ‘People talk.’ Annette turned to Maya. ‘If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll stop.’

  Maya gestured with a hand for Annette to continue. She watched a sleepy-eyed pedestrian stroll by.

  ‘Jennifer got out of prison and is now finishing a drug rehab program. With the computer training she got as an inmate, she’s doing clerical work somewhere. That woman finds her way around.’

  Certainly, Maya was interested in finding out exactly what Jennifer did and where. But she couldn’t expect Annette to fish that out.

  ‘Let me get refills.’ Maya sprung to her feet, headed for the counter, produced a credit card and asked a server with henna-decorated hands to fill the cups.

  ‘Your card doesn’t go through,’ the server said curtly.

  ‘But it did yesterday,’ Maya answered, baffled. ‘Could you please try again?’ She didn’t have another credit card or cash with her.

  It took a few minutes to sort out the card issue, which turned out to be an error on the server’s part. Maya returned to the table and dropped to her seat, only then gulping a big breath.

  Both Veen and Annette thanked her for the second cup. Annette resumed by saying, ‘Justin supports Jennifer and their child. He’s a doting father. They’re a family, although they live separately.’ Annette paused. ‘End of story. Or at least, as far as I’ve gone.’

  Her jealousy hadn’t helped, Maya now acknowledged to herself, drinking from her cup. It had raised unnecessary red flags in her mind and clouded her judgement. It wasn’t the end of the story, as far as she could see.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  The following day, Maya smelled the cloying odor of an unbathed body as she entered through the door of Cal Chodron’s rental office in Aurora Avenue. A deep breath through her mouth and she saw a kindly but gloomy-faced Cal chatting with Arthur. Ah, that was where the stench came from: Arthur, the street poet. Maya tried not to inhale through her nose.

  ‘The homeless don’t lie,’ she heard Arthur saying. ‘We don’t have to put up a front.’ Face creased, hair wild and stringy, his ample body spilling out of a chair, Arthur looked up from his paper cup and scrutinized her.

  ‘Hello, Maya.’ Cal pointed to the other visitor’s chair but didn’t flash his Buddha smile. Maya extended a greeting and grabbed the chair, her mind focused on what she wished to discuss with Cal and how to bring that up, given Arthur’s presence. The foul odor emanating from Arthur’s body and clothing in such close quarters overpowered her thoughts.

  ‘It’s been one of those weeks.’ Cal hunched forward and recited a litany of issues facing him: his son had sprained an ankle, the plumbing in his kitchen was plugged up and his shrew of a mother-in-law had come for a visit.

  Arthur turned to Cal. ‘Are you going to keep on complaining, old boy? Or are you going to offer coffee to this lovely young lady and ask her what she needs?’

  Cal mumbled an apology and asked Maya, ‘Cream and sugar?’

  ‘Thanks, but I don’t need a cup.’

  Cal ignored her reply and disappeared into the back room.

  Arthur smiled at Maya, his chapped lips somehow accommodating that wide, mischievous smile. He wore a soiled, once-stylish ivory vest over his white shirt, the colors barely recognizable beneath the grime.

  ‘I’m from Santa Barbara,’ Arthur began. ‘Ever been there? They dress like a million dollars in that town. A young actor gave me this vest, said he wore it in a movie. Should I have believed him? They all live in a world of fantasy, you know. Still, all was well for me in that fine town, could always bum for a few bucks, until I ran into trouble with the law and got kicked out. I left with a tarp, a sleeping bag, a backpack and this vest.’

  ‘Do you have a place in Seattle?’

  ‘I spend time in a flophouse – a transitional housing facility, they call it. It’s full of cockroaches.’ He made a zigzag flying motion with his fingers. Then his tone changed to a more serious one. ‘Let’s talk about you. You have trouble, young lady?’

  ‘What makes you think I have trouble?’

  ‘A pretty young thing like you wouldn’t come to a neighborhood like this unless you had a hot potato in your hand. Perhaps a murder that happened in one of the rich neighborhoods? Rich people murder in style, no knives or clubs for them like us dumb, poor folks.’ Arthur laughed at his own joke, a gross laugh, his head thrown back and his yellow, rotten teeth in view, hardly realizing how close to the truth he was. Sylvie and Anna had been pushed to their deaths, Maya believed. And yes, she would admit, it wasn’t a straightforward crime. Arthur was proving to be intuitive and amusing, despite his hygiene; even so, she remained wary. Cal might have been filling him in on who Maya was and what she wanted. She could hear Cal rummaging around in the back kitchen.

  ‘Well, whatever brings you here,’ Arthur said, ‘you’re on Aurora Avenue. I don’t mean to scare you but we have our share of mishaps on these wretched few blocks. Anything can go wrong. I mean anything. You could be mugged or kidnapped. Or a nasty surprise could flare up. Like a gas main breaking in a motel around the corner. An accident? Someone trying to get at a guest? Who knows? A man sleeping in his bed was thrown out of his window by that explosion. Talk about a horrible death. Literally being shredded to pieces.’

  Maya started to rise. She wasn’t in the mood for this kind of talk.
Arthur was a bit loony.

  Cal reappeared and placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. ‘Sit down, please.’ He cast a warning glare at Arthur.

  Arthur wiggled out of his chair, saying to Cal, ‘Atta-boy. Be nice to the ladies – let them take over.’ He gave Maya a long look. ‘Do you know you look even prettier when you’re scared?’ He chuckled and headed for the door.

  Idiot. Maya was glad to be rid of him.

  Cal diverted his eyes from the retreating figure and gave Maya a steady look. ‘Don’t mind him, he’s harmless. He’s getting treatment. What brings you here this morning?’

  Tense, Maya turned her attention to the window, now freckled with raindrops, to make sure Arthur was out of sight. ‘Well, I’m here to ask you about the lost specimen.’

  ‘It’s office confidential.’

  ‘You cared about Anna. Wouldn’t you like to know why she—’

  ‘OK – the test tube, one of several, contained a blood sample from Anna, drawn after she’d been immunized and then exposed to the malaria parasite. Surprise of surprises, the tube disappeared.’

  ‘Who took it?’

  ‘Someone in our office claimed she’d seen a new hire put a test tube in her pocket but had failed to report it. Just forgot. It was the new hire’s job to pack a number of tubes in a larger container and send it to the lab technician for testing. When we checked the technician’s reports, we saw that the requisition paper was there but no tube to go along with it, which meant that particular specimen was missing. It was one of Anna’s.’

  Somewhere a car engine grumbled; it jarred Maya. ‘Why would anyone—?’

  ‘I’m stumped.’ Cal sighed. ‘I’m not up on medical matters. With two jobs, I’m so swamped that …’

  ‘I hope you’re documenting all that’s going on with this new hire. You might need the details for the police, if we ever need to go that far. It’s a theft related to someone who committed suicide under questionable circumstances.’

  ‘We’re keeping our suspect under observation, rather than fire her or pull her out of the project. We haven’t collected enough concrete evidence yet. And yes, it is a matter for the police. My boss Inez is knowledgeable – her father is an ex-police chief.’

  The phone jangled. Cal reached for the receiver and put the caller on hold.

  ‘And the name of the new hire?’

  ‘Because we run a confidential trial in our clinic, we’re not allowed to name our staff.’

  Maya rose, thanked Cal and stole away. She couldn’t wait to discuss the matter of the stolen blood samples with her mother. Uma’s eyes would sparkle with excitement when told how useful her medical contacts in Kolkata would be in providing technical details so urgently required.

  Outside, Maya looked around at the block, empty but for Arthur sitting at the entrance to an alleyway strewn with garbage, a rotten smell pervading. A shopping cart heaped with his possessions rested nearby. Arthur turned his head and gave Maya a sideways glance.

  She drew near, walking carefully past the litter of broken beer bottles. ‘How goes it?’ A casual question, a friendly manner, to get a better feel for the man. Her instinct about him asked her to do so.

  He removed the cigarette from his mouth, crunched a potato chip and said in a serious voice, ‘I keep an eye on all that goes on in this hood. Watch where you go, young lady.’

  ‘Do you spy for somebody? Am I being targeted? Who is it?’

  He shut his eyes, mumbled a few words she couldn’t catch. She acknowledged the ripple of fear inside her, said a goodbye and rushed toward her car.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The following afternoon, Maya arrived at the Green Lake trails and searched for Ivan. Even at this lazy, midday hour, surrounded by open space, vast sky and the faint hint of wild berries, she found herself unsettled. It had to do with Atticus’ warning: I’d stay away from him if I were you. She saw a teenage girl with a goat on a leash, a young boy on rollerblades and a tourist snapping photographs with his cellphone, keeping his impatient companion waiting. An occasional warm breeze rolled over the grass in a threatening manner and rustled the leaves on the trees and bushes like it was punishment.

  A couple standing under the shade of a row of red oaks argued if solar power was good for homes or not. Maya paused for a moment to eavesdrop. She heard a voice call from behind her, ‘Hello. Sorry to be late.’

  Something in the way Ivan looked at her gave Maya the creeps. He sidled up to her and smiled; she recomposed her face. He shook her hand, a chilled, firm grip, and the two of them fell into step on the paved three-mile pathway around the lake.

  ‘What have you been up to?’ Ivan asked.

  ‘I’m having such an odd week.’ She watched his face carefully, withdrew the crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and held it before him. ‘A stranger gave it to me. Can you interpret it?’

  He held the piece of paper. ‘It says something like “back off or you’ll be dead.” How odd, coming from a stranger. Must be a nutjob.’

  A dreadful feeling twisted through Maya. She hid it, took the note back from Ivan and studied his reactions without being obvious. His voice conveyed genuine surprise. Quite likely, he’d had no hand in the attack. Someone was giving her an ultimatum, trying to get her to back off the investigation into Sylvie’s death. Who might that be?

  Back off or you’ll be dead. She’d consider this later. Now she decided to jump into the topic that was of utmost importance to her. ‘I wanted to ask you a bit more about Sylvie. You two worked in the same lab. I’ve asked you this before. Why would a happy person dedicated to her work and successful at it want to forego it all?’

  His face coloring, Ivan stopped to pick up a pine cone. ‘Good question. What did you say you do for a living?’

  The sun blazed overhead. She stared at a red Hawthorne just ahead of them, the largest specimen around, and stretched the truth. Well, just a bit. ‘I’m a nutritionist.’

  ‘Not too much money in it, is there?’

  ‘My profession has nothing to do with my inquiries.’ A dog paddled out to retrieve a floating Frisbee. She smiled at the dog’s antics and turned back to Ivan. ‘I’m so concerned about Sylvie’s family. They’re broken from grief. It’ll take them a long time to recover, if they ever do. What can you tell me about Sylvie’s research?’

  He wore a non-committal expression. ‘Well, Sylvie was the star in our lab, the senior scientist who had made a big breakthrough, one which would have ultimately led to a successful vaccine, except … she caused her hard drive to fail. Worse yet, she got rid of all her backups. Which would have made the recovery of the data impossible.’

  ‘After all those years of work? Didn’t her breakthrough belong to the company?’

  Ivan’s steps faltered. His tone turned solemn. ‘Not necessarily. It’s not unusual for a scientist at a small lab like ours to take all her research with her if she decides to leave. And Sylvie would have left because the funding for the malaria study was ending.’

  Maya pushed forward. ‘Might Sylvie have been afraid the data would be stolen even from her own possession?’

  He flinched, as though he’d revealed too much by mistake. ‘I couldn’t comment on that. I never analyzed any of the data she produced. Like I told you, I’m not high up on the ladder.’

  They strolled past a father walking with his son, guiding a dog on a leash, struggling to coordinate both of them. The dog growled at Ivan and he watched the animal carefully as they passed by. ‘These trails rock,’ Ivan said after a while. ‘I found them on my first day here. Didn’t know a soul then. Green Lake and the ducks kept me company.’

  ‘Have you been here long?’

  ‘Not that long. Let me back up here. I’m a Michigander, born and raised, went to high school in Turkey and college in England and Moscow. Pretty cosmopolitan, you might say. I’ve spent a good bit of time in Moscow, where I still have many relatives from my mother’s side. My Russian uncle calls me a part-time Muscovite. I wor
ked there for a while. Then I had the Seattle dream and moved back to the States. I’ve been here for a little more than two years.’

  Maya registered an unspoken yearning in Ivan’s voice, a quake of a regret. ‘You like it here?’

  ‘Truthfully, no. The Pacific Northwest is a fallen dream for me. Donuts, but not enough dough to buy them. Huh. I work sixty hours a week and half my money goes to pay the rent.’ He took a long pause. ‘Losing Sylvie has brought an end to a chapter in my life. Even the hair salon I used to go to is closing.’

  Salon Martin was closing? Maya would have to call Cindy. She kept listening.

  ‘Heck, I’m thinking about moving back to Moscow, where my parents are staying temporarily, although I haven’t given notice to my boss at the lab yet.’

  What does your boss think about you taking a two-hour-plus lunch period twice in recent times? Maya’s worry deepened: Ivan, a suspect, could disappear from her life any day now. Indeed, Ivan, his eyes focused on a far-off point, looked distracted and increased his pace.

  She lengthened her stride to keep pace with him. ‘You must miss Moscow.’

  ‘Have you ever been there?’ At her negative reply, he added, ‘They get thousands of visitors from India. Before you and I were born, India and Russia were Cold War allies. The first Cold War, I mean.’

  That alliance, however irrelevant it might be in today’s world, however fragile in terms of evolving international alliances, might help him open up more to her.

  ‘Well, my mother, who’s from Kolkata, talks about the old times, the period after India’s independence when the country had a rapport with the Soviet Union,’ Maya replied. ‘How she would buy translations of Russian classics for pennies from street vendors in what was then known as Calcutta. Tolstoy, Turgenev, Dostoyevsky and many others. Some of her friends would say they were propaganda literature but my mother loved reading them. She regrets that they don’t sell those books in Kolkata street stalls anymore.’