A Short Time to Die

by Susan Alice Bickford

  “That must have gone over well,” Vanessa said.

  Judson offered her a twisted grin. “Yeah. Don’t forget that Del and Zeke were the ones in charge in those days, with Larry as the enforcer and Louise and Rosie riding shotgun. Dad was terrified for me. He’s a tough guy, but I have never seen him scared like that.” He studied a hangnail. “In some ways it proved that he loved me.”

  “You left?” she asked.

  “He sent me to a prep school in Rochester. I lived with Jason. Troy dropped out of school a couple of months later, but it wouldn’t have been safe for me to stay. After high school, I got into the University of Rochester. I was the first one in my family to go to college. I think Dad was proud, not that he’d say so. When I got into law school at UCSF, I headed out here and never looked back.”

  “It sounds a bit lonely,” Jack said.

  “That has been the hard part. But I’m lucky. Beverly has lots of family here. Normal family. Happy family. I’ve even learned passable Chinese. Since Rosie died, Betty comes out two or three times a year. She’s great. Her son, Johnny, and I were good friends in elementary school and I think she sees me as a link to him. My dad has come once or twice. He’s better with grandchildren than with sons.”

  Vanessa’s heart ached a bit for Judson. Freedom came at a price for the Harris clan.

  “I don’t suppose you saw Louise or Troy when they were out here.”

  “Hell no. Besides, I looked back on my calendar.” He gestured to his computer screen. “I see that we were all in Southern California around the times you’re talking about. Our first Disney vacation, after Harriet and Chelsea, but before we had Aaron.”

  “Any chance of other family coming out uninvited?” Jack asked.

  Judson licked his lips and swallowed. He looked at the door, leading to the heart of his family life. “I hope not. And I rather think not. The good news is, they’re a diminished group now.”

  Jack shot Vanessa a skeptical glance. “We can always hope, Mr. Harris.”

  * * *

  By the time Jack and Vanessa started back to Cupertino, the rain had given way to brilliant late-day sun.

  “He was scared of them. Even now,” Jack said.

  “But not scared of his father,” Vanessa said. “A bit resentful, and not close, but not scared.”

  * * *

  The next day, Nick greeted them with more news.

  “Your good friend Chip called. Larry Harris was stabbed to death yesterday. They found him at the end of the day, stuffed into a shower stall.”

  “Convenient,” Jack said. He stared at the report, clicking his ballpoint pen, meditating on the implications.

  “Oh?” Nick’s eyebrows reached up to his receding hairline.

  “Convenient for Carl Harris. Convenient for anyone not aligned with the old Zeke-Rosie power axis,” Vanessa said.

  “Of course, Larry was the kind of guy to have lots of enemies,” Jack said, continuing to click the pen.

  Vanessa reached over and snatched the pen.

  “We have two more sets of interviews: Elaine Fardig and her mother, and last but not least, Marly Shaw and her sister, Charlene Shaw Harris.”

  “I thought Charlene was still in prison at the time we’re thinking of,” Nick said.

  Vanessa tapped on the report on Nick’s desk. “Yes, but she may have inside information.”

  “And you think she’s likely to be in the sharing mood given her history?”

  “Attention to detail, sir,” Jack said.

  “Thank you, Jack. You stay, Vanessa.” Nick dismissed Jack with a wave.

  Jack offered Vanessa a finger wiggle as he backed out the door.

  Nick planted both hands on his desk and leaned forward. “Vanessa, here’s the deal. We need to move on, one way or the other. I know you have a reputation of running every case to ground. I like that about you. So does the brass. But we’ve spent a lot of time and money on this and we’ve got cases piling up. Righteous cases. Cases with real victims. Finish these interviews. But unless you come up with something concrete, I don’t see that we’ll be able to pinpoint anyone for these deaths.”

  “Hindering prosecution?” Vanessa asked.

  “Good luck with that.” Nick frowned. “Go.”

  21

  Marly: Old Friends

  June 14, 2009

  Marly stretched her arms above her head and tensed every muscle, tip to toe. She had slept in—a luxury, even on Sunday. The large house was silent.

  The thermometer outside her window read fifty-five degrees, under a gray, overcast sky. It was the start of another perfect summer day in Silicon Valley. The high fog overhead would burn off and give way to sun by midmorning. The temperature would rise to eighty degrees, give or take, and around five in the afternoon, the fog would peep over the top of the Santa Cruz Mountains and pull cool air back over the valley for the night. And no rain until October.

  Marly padded down the hallway and opened the door to Mark’s bedroom. Last year, her nephew had removed all of the cherry mission-style furniture she had provided when he had come to live with her. His mattress now sat flat on the floor, flush against the far wall, next to his meditation corner, defined by a rectangular Zen zabuton mat with a plump, lozenge-like zafu in the middle. An old coffee table served as his desk these days. He explained that it was the perfect height where he could study or read, squatted on his haunches or sitting in full lotus. Just watching him made Marly’s knees and ankles ache.

  Before she eased the door shut, she paused to study the one wall that was not stark white. On this wall, closest to the door, Mark had plastered soccer and baseball posters, and school pictures over every available inch of space.

  The deep saffron yellow of Pammy’s room seeped out the door and pulled Marly in to bask in the glow of her niece’s spirit. The orange and green curtains and bright red rug competed for attention with the stacks of books and papers scattered in loose piles around the room.

  Alison compartmentalized her room into neat pink and purple activity centers. Her shiny white bedframe with matching side tables took up the near wall. The clean surface of her art and project table sat under the window with toys stacked by size in the cabinet to the left, sports equipment in the cabinet to the right.

  As she waited for coffee to brew, Marly picked up the phone and started to dial Mark’s cell number. She put down the phone. The Zen Center did not allow cell phone use during the sesshin—a weeklong meditation session that would end on Friday. She had been concerned that Mark was too young for such a Spartan spiritual adventure. She agreed to let him go only after persistent badgering on his part. Pammy would return from her camp in the Sierras a few days after Mark. Alison was down in Santa Barbara with the family of her best friend, Tami, for the next week.

  Her children would be home soon enough.

  Over breakfast, Marly went over her checklist for their trip to England in two weeks. She had accepted an offer to teach a course on high tech entrepreneurship at Oxford, but the real reason for her visit was Tony.

  Who would have thought a sane, rational, highly intelligent person would settle for a long-distance relationship with someone as screwed up as Marly? And if that wasn’t enough, there were several needy children tossed into the mix as well.

  Tony’s willingness to actively embrace her dysfunctional situation and strange family continued to astound her. Marly thought she might be truly in love with this odd person. She hoped this summer would cement that for her, one way or the other.

  After a lazy morning and late brunch, she rode her bike into work at the office of her newest startup, near the 101, on the other side of Mountain View.

  As she locked her bike, she noticed that there was one car in the back parking lot—Elaine’s—and a green van parked in the shade at the far end. She used her access card to enter the office.

  Elaine stood in the reception area. She greeted Marly with crossed arms and a scowl. “You took your time getting here. I thoug
ht we were going to begin early. I’ve been here for over two hours already.”

  “You are not going to make me feel guilty about taking a few child-free personal hours. You know perfectly well that I put in plenty of time, plus I don’t waste it trying to micromanage people.”

  Elaine’s nostrils flared. She turned on her heel and strode into the adjoining conference room. She sat down, her back stiff and straight, facing the whiteboard, which was covered with handwritten notes and multicolored Post-its.

  Marly strolled to the break room and filled a coffee mug. She started for the conference room, but turned around after a few steps to add half-and-half to her cup.

  She knew that sauntering at a slow pace would drive Elaine crazy, but she needed a few moments to cool off.

  At times like this, Marly missed Andrea, a friend with no rough edges, who knew how to bring out the best in the people around her by using positive motivations. Elaine had been a pushy kid in first grade and now she was a pushy colleague. Marly did appreciate the value of Elaine’s brilliance and ambition, but on a personal level, she could be high-maintenance.

  Although she often got the credit for saving Elaine, Marly knew she had been more than repaid. At seventeen, Marly’s idea of escape from Charon Springs had been limited to getting through college and finding a job with a company like IBM, someplace far from Central New York. She discovered that Elaine was not going to settle for anything as prosaic as that and, since Elaine and Marly were now a team, Marly wasn’t going to either.

  It was at Elaine’s insistence that Marly came to Stanford for graduate school where she was happy to ride Elaine’s aggressive coattails on their second company.

  Now the landscape had changed. Cell phone and mobile device apps were all the rage. The risks were higher than ever, but augmented reality presented thrilling new challenges that Marly loved.

  According to Elaine, technical talent was overrated. Knowing how to blend business know-how and technology was the critical component. Marly loved building things, figuring out how to solve problems, and pulling people together to make those happen. On most days, she enjoyed making Elaine’s visions successful.

  Marly settled into a chair at the conference table, careful not to sit across from her prickly co-founder. Making direct eye contact with Elaine when she was in one of these moods would be like teasing a rabid dog. Most people had no idea Elaine was virtually blind in her left eye. By positioning herself slightly to Elaine’s left, Marly was able to diffuse most of Elaine’s fury.

  Besides, Marly knew that Elaine was stressed over the materials they needed to send to a venture capital team that was interested in funding them. VCs could be notoriously picky, and Elaine had every reason to be concerned.

  As Marly predicted, once she and Elaine started working, the temperature in the room cooled. The pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. These golden moments, when their complementary skills synchronized and everything clicked, were magical.

  At four p.m., Elaine stood and stretched. “Not bad. We have a long way to go but I think we’ve laid the foundations for what we need. See you at seven tomorrow morning.”

  Marly had no intention of getting to the office by seven a.m., but decided she would make that argument at nine the next morning. She waited behind to take care of a few emails, savoring a few minutes in the office alone.

  Something flashed in the corner of her peripheral vision and pulled her attention to the conference room window.

  In the middle of the parking lot, Elaine was struggling to free herself from the arms of a tall and beefy man with a scraggly mullet. He had wrapped his arms around her from the back and lifted her feet off the ground. As Elaine twisted, another figure, a rotund woman with a similar haircut, moved in and slugged Elaine in the face.

  Marly pounded on the glass. “Hey. Hey. I’m going to call the police.”

  Elaine slumped to the tarmac, and the two figures turned toward the window. Marly stopped yelling and stepped back into the middle of the room. The two attackers were Louise Harris and her son, Troy.

  Louise and Troy turned back to deliver more kicks and punches to Elaine, while Marly ran back to her desk for her cell phone.

  As she started to dial 911, Marly noticed that Louise and Troy were loading a limp Elaine into a panel van. Marly realized that if Louise and Troy drove away, she would not be able to tell the police much about the van except the color. If she tried to follow them on her bicycle, they would soon pull away. She knew Louise and Troy well enough. They were not taking Elaine for another beating.

  Marly dropped her phone and picked up a putter that their team had used for a game of office miniature golf.

  This is stupid. Go back to the phone and call the police. Do not go out that door. Don’t.

  Marly raced across the parking lot. Troy was bent over, stuffing Elaine through the side door onto the floor of the van. If he heard her coming, he didn’t stop or turn around. Marly closed in, set her feet, and swung the putter at Troy’s back.

  The putter shuddered in Marly’s hands and bounced off Troy’s well-padded flesh, as if she had hit a large rubber tire. Troy grunted and straightened up. As he turned toward her, Marly cocked her arms for another blow.

  Before she could swing at Troy’s head, she felt something hit her like a punch. And another. Every muscle contracted, her legs collapsed, and her head hit the pavement with a bounce.

  “Nice of you to come greet us, Marly,” Louise said. “I was wondering how we’d get you into this van.”

  22

  Marly: Comeuppance

  June 14, 2009

  Marly was lying on her right side in the back of a moving vehicle. Her hands were tied with a plastic band in front of her and her bare feet were in some sort of similar restraint that kept them no more than a few inches apart. She lay very still, as she tried to process what had happened. She had not lost consciousness, but the impact of her head on the ground had dazed her. She was too confused to be terrified.

  “Keep your eyes on the road, you idiot,” Louise said. “And don’t speed. We can’t risk getting pulled over.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Troy said.

  “Just do as I say. I’m going to call Mom.”

  “Tell her what a good job I did.”

  “Just drive.”

  Marly shifted her head and swallowed several times to make certain she didn’t vomit. She struggled to pull in enough air through her nose.

  She was lying on the bare, long metal bed of the windowless van she had seen in the parking lot. Rolling to her left, she could see Elaine lying on the other side of the van floor.

  Elaine stirred at Marly’s tentative touch but remained slumped on her stomach. She rolled her head and Marly’s throat constricted. Elaine’s right eye—the good one—was swollen almost shut and blood caked under her nose and around her mouth. A sour, ammonia smell leaked from her body.

  Louise’s voice floated over them from the front seat. “Yeah, we’ve got her. Don’t worry, Mom. Yeah, Elaine too. We have a place in mind. No one will find them. Ever.”

  Pause.

  “Yeah, the kids seem to be off someplace. But they’ll be heading East once Marly disappears. Yeah.”

  Another pause.

  “Yup, I’ve got the cameras. We’ll have good movies. Once we’ve tidied up, we’ll be headed home. We plan to be back on Tuesday night.”

  After Louise hung up, she turned to Troy. “She’s doing better. The doctors are saying she may hang in there for a while. Amazing.”

  Marly paid attention to the driving. They seemed to be on a winding road, heading uphill. Route 9?

  Louise swiveled in her seat. Marly pretended to be unconscious, but Louise gave her shoulder a rap with a hard stick, and Marly released an involuntary grunt.

  “Hey there, smarty. You should get ready to die. Rosie’s waiting to get the report. Including video. Now your family will know what it’s like to suffer and wonder where their loved one has gone.�
�

  Marly tilted her head and realized that Louise was shooting video.

  “You think I don’t know what that’s like? We don’t know where my father went,” Marly said. “And what about Johnny? And what about Elaine’s father?” She was rewarded with a sharp rap on the side of her left arm.

  “We’ll get you to confess,” Louise said, her features distorted by a sneer. She picked up a small chain saw that had been sitting at her feet. “Piece by piece. We’ll get the truth from you about Del and all the rest.”

  Troy giggled.

  Marly coughed as the air rushed from her lungs. Elaine whimpered.

  “Don’t you hurt my kids.” Marly wracked her brain to come up with some argument that might convince Louise to change her mind.

  “They’ll be orphans,” Troy said, his voice filled with glee. “They’ll be so upset. They’ll have to go to your mom.”

  “The Shaws have been thorns in our sides for a long, long time,” Louise said. “Your mother’s house is old—all wood. It could burn real easy.”

  “This is crazy,” Marly said. “You have Elaine, too. The police will figure out that there was a connection to your family. They’ll find out that you came here. They’ll track this van. You have stun guns. Someone will know where you were planning to dump us.”

  Louise laughed. “Cash is still good. Cash and a new driver’s license. You can even get a cash card to make reservations. You can rent vans for cash. You can buy what you need for cash.”

  “Carl will know.” Even to her own ears, her voice was tinny and weak.