Nearly Departed

by Max Patrick Schlienger

  Bobo was still staring as Dennis walked back towards Elspeth’s room. He stood up and flashed an approving grin. “Blimey, mate, you didn’t tell me your wife was hot.”

  Dennis smiled proudly. “Yeah, she’s really something.”

  “No more hotel rooms, I take it?”

  “No more,” replied Dennis. “And no more sleeping over with witchdoctors, either.”

  “Ace. Maybe tonight I can actually get some shut-eye.”

  Dennis heard the sound of someone – probably Spinner – loudly clearing their throat, and he peered through the doorway. “Hello?” he called. Elspeth beckoned them in. She looked healthier, Dennis thought, for all the difference a few minutes could have made. She was sitting up, at least.

  “I owe you an apology, Dennis.”

  “It’s fine, really,” Dennis replied. “I did agree to the date, after all.”

  Elspeth shook her head. “Not that, dear. I was talking about Doctor Harding.”

  “Oh.” Dennis glanced at Spinner, who nodded almost imperceptibly. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “It seems we’ve gotten you into a bit of trouble. Rest assured, though, it’s not as bad as it sounds.” Elspeth smiled up at Spinner. “Malcolm here has an idea, as well.” The detective stepped forward eagerly.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he started. “We’re going to wait for him to leave his office, and then we’ll go in with –” the explanation was cut off by the sound of Dennis’ phone buzzing. He pulled it out and shook his head at the display.

  “Speak of the devil,” Dennis said. “It’s Sam. What should I do?”

  “Answer it?” replied Bobo.

  “No, wait!” Spinner protested, but it was already too late. Dennis motioned for quiet and pressed the phone to his ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Dennis, thank god,” came Harding’s voice. “It was getting late, and I started to worry. Is everything okay?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Dennis said warily. “I’m here with Elspeth and Spinner.” The detective put a hand over his eyes and groaned.

  “What’s going on, Dennis? What have they told you?” More than you did, Dennis thought. “Furthermore, what have you told them? Are you safe?”

  “I’m fine, Sam.” He examined his fingernails casually, as though the gesture might somehow translate through the airwaves. “We’ve been discussing old history.”

  “Listen to me,” Harding pressed. “I don’t know what lies they’ve told you, but you need to get out of there, and fast. Spinner is a very dangerous man, and it sounds like he’s pulled Elspeth into his scheme.”

  Dennis growled into the phone. “Stuff it, Sam. She remembers everything.”

  “The woman is delusional, Dennis! She’d say anything if it fit with her fantasy!”

  “I wasn’t talking about Elspeth.” He could picture the wheels turning in Harding’s head.

  “What, do you mean Evy? She’s dead, Dennis. What do they have you believing? That she faked her own death to hide from someone? From me?” His voice grew lower, more insistent. “Whatever it is, it’s a lie. Just a way to trick you into giving Spinner the key.” He paused for a moment. “You do have it, don’t you?”

  “Oh yeah, it’s right here.” Dennis held the object up into the light, where everyone in the room turned to stare at it. If their thoughts were at all along the same lines as his, they were thinking about how ridiculous it was that such an insignificant item could cause this much trouble.

  Harding all but whispered his next words, which Dennis had to strain to make out. “Don’t tell anybody you have it, Dennis. I don’t know what might be in the box that it opens, but if you’re right about it being the profits from a confidence scheme, then I don’t doubt that Spinner would do anything to get his hands on it.”

  The psychiatrist was unquestionably persuasive. Thankfully, Dennis had been inoculated against it. “Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself, Sam? I mean, it must sting to get done over by your partner.” He chewed through the words, not even attempting to hide his malice.

  “Dennis, I told you, I never even met Eric Palin. Whoever told you that is lying.”

  “I’ve never heard a picture tell a lie.”

  “What picture?” Harding asked with surprise in his voice.

  “An old one of you and Eric shaking hands. Pretty convincing, if you ask me.”

  The psychiatrist was quiet for a moment. “It must have been doctored. That’s the only explanation. Spinner must have gone to great lengths to set this up. I wouldn’t be surprised if he even tried to seduce Elspeth.”

  Dennis looked over at where Spinner and Elspeth were holding hands. Their eyes were already on him, wide and expectant, almost childlike in a way. The thought gave him a new idea. “How old are you, Malcolm?”

  “Dennis?” uttered Harding, his tone rising. “What are you doing?”

  “None of your business!” Spinner declared.

  “Here, that’s how old my dad is!” laughed Bobo.

  Dennis made angry shushing noises with his free hand. “Really, Malcolm, tell me. How old are you?”

  “He’s fifty-eight,” Elspeth answered. Spinner looked hurt. “Fifty-nine in March.”

  “So, you would have been, what, twelve years old when Evy died? Thirteen?” Dennis made sure that his lips were in line with the phone’s receiver. “Kind of young to be a con artist, if you ask me.”

  The seconds ticked by, and Harding said nothing. When he spoke again, it was with a pleading tone. “Listen, Dennis, maybe Spinner wasn’t Eric Palin’s partner, but I’m sure he’s up to something. He must have found out about the safety deposit box somehow, and that’s why he befriended Elspeth.”

  Dennis thought about it. “Why go through all the trouble of faking an old picture, then? Why involve you at all?” Harding sighed loudly, sending a burst of static through the line.

  “I tried to buy the house a few years back. Emma wanted it sold –

  “Except that she died first, Sam,” Dennis cut in.

  “Be that as it may, she was worried that her daughter wouldn’t part with it because of her delusions. She was right, and Spinner has had a vendetta against me ever since. He was probably afraid that I would get to the key before he could, and find out what it was.”

  Spinner made a motion. “What’s happening?” he mouthed. Dennis gazed at him quizzically.

  “How did you two meet?” he asked. “Elspeth?”

  “There was an anonymous offer put in for my house after my parents died,” the woman answered. “I hired Malcolm to find out who had placed it.”

  “Did you hear that, Sam?” Dennis said into the phone.

  “I heard it, but Dennis, it’s remarkably easy to manipulate someone into making first contact.”

  “Like convincing them to put an ad in the newspaper?” His mind was made up. “There’s one problem with your story, Sam. You’re basing all of these details on the assumption that Elspeth is mentally unstable. I know, much more intimately than I would like, that she isn’t.” He realized that his hand had balled into a tight fist, and that the key was cutting into his fingers. “Not only that, but her ‘delusions’ didn’t start until after her parents were both dead, so I’m inclined to believe her over you. Even if I didn’t, though, and even if I believed that Emma really did come to see you,” he took a deep breath, “none of it explains why you said that Elspeth was Spinner’s niece.”

  “Checkmate!” Bobo whispered. Dennis rolled his eyes. At least he hadn’t said “Backgammon.” Harding, meanwhile, was completely silent, and Dennis mentally bowed to a chorus of thunderous imaginary applause.

  “I see...” Harding spoke at last, his voice measured and even. “Very well, Dennis. Perhaps I haven’t been entirely honest. It’s true, Emma was not a patient of mine.” His tone went sour with false friendliness. “Let’s talk about you, though, shall we?”

  “Save it,” Dennis countered, anticipating the psych
iatrist’s next move. “You and I both know that I never did anything illegal while I was working for you.”

  “Oh, no, certainly not,” acknowledged Harding. “You were an excellent volunteer. Only, I’m afraid I must have misjudged you, since I do seem to be missing a fair amount of money. Something on the order of five hundred dollars, it seems.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  Harding sighed with insincere disappointment. “I’m afraid that petty theft is still theft. I believe it carries a sentence of six months of imprisonment for your first offense, and you’ve stolen from me no less than nine times. Once for every patient you brought in.” Dennis swallowed through a dry mouth, trying to ignore the concerned faces of the other people in the room. “I can only imagine how the investigation would go, assuming one even took place. Unlawful or not, I’m sure your particular hobbies would raise a few eyebrows.” Harding chuckled darkly. “I’m also quite certain that some of your past clients would be only too eager to press charges of their own, whether they were based in reality or not.”

  “You’d never do it,” Dennis stammered. “You wouldn’t go to the cops. They’d know you were involved, and you’d lose your practice.”

  “Oh, I hardly think so, Dennis, seeing as it’s the word of a respected psychiatrist over a grifter. And even if I did,” he clicked his tongue a few times, “I’m an old man, well past my retirement age. It would be a welcome change.”

  “My friends would testify for me.”

  “Ah, yes, your friends,” replied Harding. “Friends with illicit gambling debts, perhaps?” A tapping sound came over the phone. “You know, I have this money here for Luke, but I’m afraid I’m legally bound to report if someone has committed or intends to commit a crime. Although, I suppose I could just withhold the money, and he would have much worse things to worry about.”

  The room’s temperature seemed to plummet. “What do you want?”

  “I think you know the answer to that.”

  Dennis searched the faces of his companions. Even Bobo looked worried. “The key?”

  “The key.” Harding’s chair creaked over the phone, and Dennis could picture the psychiatrist leaning back with a look of triumph. “I’ll give you an hour to bring it to me. If you’re not here by then, well...” He let the implied threat go unfinished. “I trust you’ll make the right decision.” The man’s voice started to pull away, but came back for a final thought. “Oh, and Dennis?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Come alone.”

  Dennis hung up the phone. The look on his face must have said enough, because nobody spoke. That was fine... He didn’t trust himself to say anything without choking. He tried to rationalize his feelings. Where was the harm in giving Harding the key? The money was just as much his as it was Elspeth’s. More so, even. For all Dennis knew, Eric Palin had tried to make off with an uneven share. Anyone who could say for sure was dead, and in most cases gone. Even if Evy had any more information, there was no way Dennis could question her and still make it to Harding’s office in an hour. That left only one alternative, the key to which was quite literally sitting in the palm of Dennis’ hand.

  “Elspeth,” he said, “I need to ask you something.”