Something Missing: A Novel
Page 28
“I wish you’d stop shaking,” she said as she moved aside a pillow and sat down beside Martin. “Honestly, you’re not in any trouble.” It wasn’t her words that allowed him to begin to relax. It was her smile, followed by her hand as it reached out and gently grasped his own, that finally stilled his nerves a bit. “I came here to thank you, Martin. You saved my life. You saved my husband’s life. You’re a hero.”
Martin’s eyes filled with tears as Sophie Pearl spoke, a mixture of gratitude and guilt. Had he followed his father’s advice and reported Clive Darrow to the police, Sophie Pearl’s face would not be plastered with bruises. She would not be wearing a sling. Though he knew that his intervention had probably saved her life, Martin also knew that his initial inaction had placed her in danger in the first place. He opened his mouth to say as much but was unable to speak.
“I know that it was you who came to save us that night. I wasn’t sure until I saw you, but once I saw your leg and your head, I knew. I’m so glad that I found you.”
“But how?” Martin asked again, clinging to those words like a life preserver.
“The card,” she explained. “I found it in the backyard about a week ago. I knew that it wasn’t mine, and I knew about that evil son of a bitch parking his car in our garage. When I saw that the card was underneath the garage window, I thought I might have found my man. You.”
“But my name isn’t on the card,” Martin stammered, still not in full control of his faculties. Sophie Pearl, client of more than nine years, was sitting in his living room, and this made parts of Martin’s mind wonder if he was dreaming.
“No,” Sophie admitted. “Your name isn’t on the card, but your bar code is. And the supermarket has your information tied to the bar code. I hired a private investigator to find its owner. The police had told me that you probably wouldn’t want to be found. Even though you saved us that night, they said you were probably in some kind of trouble with the law, and that’s why you ran away like you did. ‘Fled the scene,’ one officer kept saying. But I didn’t care what kind of trouble you might be in. I just had to know. So my private investigator found someone at the grocery store who was willing to scan the card and give her the information. Then she gave your name and address to me.”
Martin was impressed. He wondered how long it would’ve taken him to think to use the bar code on the card to identify its owner. And even then, he would’ve had to find a way to convince a grocery store manager to scan the card and provide him with the information. Not an easy job. “So you found me,” Martin said, finally regaining control of his speech. As Sophie Pearl had told her story, he’d begun to relax, realizing that this woman meant him no harm.
“So the police were right, huh? You’re in some kind of trouble?”
“Not really,” Martin answered truthfully. “But I guess I could be if I’m not careful. It’s hard to explain.”
As if sensing a chink in his defenses, Sophie pounced. “Martin, I need to know something. And it’s not because I want you to get into trouble. Completely the opposite. I think you deserve a reward. A medal. You risked your life to save me, and I’ll never forget that. I’ll never forget seeing you throw yourself out of my bathroom that night, launching yourself down the stairs like you did. You know that he almost died, right? You could’ve died too.”
“I was just doing …”
“Hush,” Sophie interrupted. “Don’t do that. Don’t belittle what you did. You risked your life for me that night, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough. But Martin, I need to know something. How did you know that I was in trouble? How did you know about the man in my house? And how did you know my name? And his name? When you called for us, you used our first names. You knew who we were. And you knew his name too. Darrow’s name. And even though I’ve never seen you before, you recognized me when I was standing on your front stoop. How did you know so much?”
For more than a decade, Martin had wanted to share his life with someone, to tell another human being about the career that he had created for himself. He wanted someone else to know how careful and clever and precise he had been for all these years, and now, sitting across from him, was someone who wanted to listen, who wanted to know. Someone who was indebted to him, who referred to Martin as her hero, and who had reminded Martin moments ago about just how close he had come to death. In the end, it was this reminder about the fragility of life that compelled Martin to tell his story to Sophie Pearl. His willingness to speak, to share his most precious secret, was born from a fear that he might one day die without anyone ever knowing about who he really was and what he really did.
And so Martin Railsback, Jr., told Sophie Pearl the story of his life, beginning with the incident in his parents’ driveway so many years ago. He explained the rules by which he operated his business, described a few of his more interesting clients, and explained how he was able to earn a living while remaining undetected. He told her about his friend Alfredo, and about how the incident in the Claytons’ home had led to the letter to Alan Clayton, and how that letter might have saved the Claytons’ marriage. He told her about Daniel Ashley’s surprise birthday party and the means by which he had intervened to preserve the surprise. He related his encounter with Cujo and Blondie, and how his intervention in the Ashleys’ affairs had led him to Laura. He told her about Laura, their blossoming relationship, and he admitted for the first time (even to himself) that he might be falling in love with her. Finally, he told her about the day that he saw Clive Darrow leaving her home, about how he followed the man to his house and ultimately identified him. He told her about how he had accurately deduced Darrow’s plan, including his intent to use Noah Blake as a patsy for his crime, a fact which Sophie confirmed, though it had taken the police more than a week to figure that out. Though he wanted to leave it out, he also told her about how he had ignored his father’s advice, and how this mistake had ultimately allowed Clive Darrow into Sophie’s home. His eyes filled with tears as he apologized for this error in judgment, and they remained teary as he described his entry into the Pearls’ house that night and his brief but decisive encounter with Darrow.
When he finished, almost an hour had passed, during which time Sophie Pearl had remained nearly silent, interrupting only when asking for details or clarifications. At first Martin had welcomed her silence. It had allowed him to narrate his story with rhythm and ease, but as it grew more protracted, Martin began to feel anxious, wondering if the absence of interruptions was an indicator of her growing anger or terror.
Nevertheless, he had pressed on.
Martin ended his story with a description of his injuries and a brief recounting of the past two weeks, including Laura’s increased presence in his life. When he was at last finished, he said, “I guess that’s about it” and breathed a sigh of relief. He had done it. He had shared his story with another human being, and regardless of her reaction, he felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. In some odd way, he felt more real than he had ever felt before.
“Remarkable,” Sophie finally said, after a long moment. “Absolutely remarkable. You’re telling me that you’ve been stea … acquiring things from my house for more than nine years, and I’ve never noticed?”
“I don’t know. Have you?”
“No,” she said, still clearly astonished. “Not once. I remember noticing that the earring was missing, but that kind of thing happens from time to time. Once I couldn’t find it, I put the other one out of my mind completely.”
“I know.”
“Absolutely remarkable,” Sophie repeated, clearly attempting to wrap her mind around everything that Martin had said.
Martin gave her a moment to sort things out before asking the question that he was afraid to ask. “Okay, Mrs. Pearl. Can I ask you a question? I know it probably sounds stupid and presumptuous, but can you forgive me? I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. Pretty disappointed to find out that your hero turned out to be a bad guy, huh?”
Martin paused a moment to collect himself. Ever since that day in the driveway with his stepfather, Martin had wondered if the man had been right.
If he had turned out to be nothing more than a low-life criminal.
He never knew how much he had wanted that question answered, until now.
“I don’t know what to say,” Martin sighed, wishing he did. He had just shared more about his life than ever before, and now he felt as if there were no more words left inside him.
“Now listen, Martin, I’m not saying that everyone would feel the way I do. But that’s how I feel. As my mother liked to say, you and I are square in my book.”
“Thank you,” Martin said, wishing he could say more. He wanted to let Sophie Pearl know how much it meant to him to be able to share his story with her, but he doubted that she or anyone else could ever understand.
“So where do you go from here?” Sophie asked, catching Martin by surprise.
“I don’t know,” Martin admitted. “But I promise that you’re not on my client list anymore. Even before you showed up today, I had taken you off my list.”
Sophie laughed. “That’s not what I was talking about, Martin. I was thinking about you. Did you know that the police found your blood inside my house? On the railing. On the phone. All over. They didn’t have your DNA on record, so they couldn’t match the blood in my house to you, but you should know that there’s a sample of you on record now. If they were ever to find your DNA somewhere else or get a sample from you, they could match you up to my house. And like I said, the police suspect that you don’t want to be found. Most of them think that you’re a hero, but that you’re a hero with something to hide. You’ll need to be very careful in the future, if you plan on continuing in your line of work.”
“You wouldn’t report me if I did?”
“Martin, you don’t listen very well, do you? I can’t say that I approve of your line of work, but in the end, I don’t think you’re hurting anyone. And Martin, you saved my life. There’s no way that I’m going to send you to jail for stealing unused jewelry forgotten dishes, and laundry detergent.”
“Oh,” Martin said with genuine surprise.
“But with that said, I really think you should reconsider your choice of career. You’re a smart guy, Martin. Brilliant perhaps. You must be. You could be doing so much more.”
“Maybe.” Martin thought about his novel but doubted that he could make a living writing. Still, it was at least an alternative.
“And what about Laura?” Sophie asked. “You said that you might love her. Do you plan on lying to her forever?”
“I… I don’t know,” Martin answered, suddenly feeling defensive.
“Martin, from what you’ve told me, I think this woman might be falling in love with you, too. But you won’t have any future together unless you tell her the truth.”
“I can’t tell Laura the truth,” Martin protested, the mere suggestion sounding ridiculous to his ear. “She’d leave me in a second.”
Sophie reached out and took Martin by the hand again. “If you don’t tell her the truth, she’s going to leave you anyway. Your lies are just holding back the inevitable. And in the end, they will hurt her more than you can imagine.”
The thought of hurting Laura stung Martin more than he’d have thought possible.
“But you may still have time,” Sophie continued. “You’ve only been together for a few weeks. I’m not going to say that your odds of staying together are good, but if you don’t come clean now, you’ll have no odds. If you want a future with this woman, you need to tell her the truth today.”
Martin knew that Sophie was right. He had known it from the moment that he and Laura first met. Sooner or later, Laura would demand to meet his imaginary parents or his fictitious sister, and when Martin couldn’t produce them, she would know that he had deceived her, and she would leave him. He had known this for a long time but had been avoiding it until now.
“What should I say to her?”
“Tell her exactly what you told me today. Everything. Leave nothing out. She’s going to be angry at first. She’ll probably storm out of the house before you finish. But she may come back after she’s had some time to think. I can’t promise that she will, but she might. And if you need my support, I will be there for you. I can make a hell of a character witness, especially for a guy who saved my life.”
“Thanks. I might need one,” Martin said, realizing that, without any deliberation, he was going to follow Sophie’s advice. In the end, he knew that it was his only chance to be with Laura.
“And you realize that if she decides to give you a second chance, you’ll have to change careers. If she loves you, she can’t let you continue on as you’ve been. It’s going to mean a lot of changes in your life. Is she worth it?”
“I think she might be,” Martin said. “I never thought that I’d meet anyone more important to me than my job, but Laura might just be the one.”
“Then you’re a lucky man, Martin. It may sound strange, but you’ve got it pretty easy. You don’t have to worry about making the right decision. It sounds as if you only have one choice.”
“I think so.”
“Good,” Sophie said, standing up and reaching for her purse. “Then I think it’s time for me to go.”
Martin stood as well, meeting her eye to eye and reaching out to shake her hand. Sophie swatted his hand away and hugged him instead with her one free arm.
“Thank you, Mrs. Pearl.”
“No, Martin. Thank you. You saved my life. Never forget that. I certainly won’t.”
Martin nodded, unable, for the moment, to speak, distracted by the vaguely formed notion that Sophie Pearl may have just saved his.
Sophie turned and walked to the front door, leaving Martin standing beside the couch, overwhelmed with the knowledge of what lay ahead of him. At the door, she turned and said, “And Martin, just because I’m walking through this door doesn’t mean I’m walking out of your life. Sherman doesn’t know about you yet, and I’m not sure if I’m going to tell him. I can keep secrets too, you know. But I’ll be here for you if you need me. You made a new friend today, and I’d like to think that I made one too.”
“You did.”
“Good,” she said. “Then call me Sophie. And call me when you have some news about your lady friend, okay? I assume you still have my number?”
Martin smiled. “I do. And I will. I just hope it’s good news.”
“Me too, Martin,” she said with a smile.
With that, Sophie turned and left. Martin remained standing in place for quite a while before deciding upon his next course of action. First, he would call Laura at her office.
“Change of plans. Dinner at my place,” he would announce, without even saying hello. Give her a taste of her own medicine. “And I’m doing the cooking.”
He would cook her favorite dish, chicken marsala, and he would order half a dozen black and white cookies from the Elm-wood Pastry Shop in hopes that she might still be around for dessert. Over wine and dinner, Martin would tell Laura his story, and he would hope and pray for the best.
He wondered where he would begin.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Matthew Dicks grew up in the small town of Blackstone, Massachusetts. He was a Boy Scou
t, a pole-vaulter, a bassoonist, and a proud member of his school’s drum corps, and he has the distinction of having died twice by the age of eighteen before being revived by paramedics on both occasions. He left home at eighteen and worked in a variety of dead-end jobs until being robbed at gunpoint at the age of twenty-two. This brush with death finally propelled him to college, where he worked his way through school as the manager of a McDonald’s restaurant, graduating from Manchester Community College, Trinity College with an English degree, and Saint Joseph’s College with a teaching degree. Following graduation, Matthew went to work as an elementary school teacher and has been teaching ever since. In 2005 he was named West Hartford’s Teacher of the Year. He also owns and operates a DJ company that performs weddings throughout Connecticut. His writing has appeared in the Hartford Courant, the Christian Science Monitor, Educational Leadership, and the Los Angeles Times-Washington Post News Service.
Matthew lives in Newington, Connecticut, with his wife and colleague, Elysha, their newborn daughter, Clara, their Lhasa apso, Kaleigh, and their bulimic housecat, Owen.
While Something Missing is eerily well-researched, Matthew Dicks has confirmed he is not, himself, a thief.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2009 by Matthew Dicks
All Rights Reserved
Published in the United States by Broadway Books, an imprint of The Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.