by Abbey, S. C.
Brrrr–
Womack’s cell was engaged.
Perhaps I can look for him myself.
Harvey recalled speaking to the boy in the thick spectacles a couple of times when he was over at the lab. Despite looking a little withdrawn and anti-social, he actually had quite a charming disposition about him. He spoke with much confidence and allure, probably from being intellectually gifted. And from what Harvey knew, he was pretty popular with the girls as well. Harvey looked out the tram when it stopped. Boylston. Perfect. Park Street was next. He recalled Gallagher saying that he worked part-time at some café on Tremont Street 3 times a week for some pocket change. He knew the exact location because he had so coincidentally bumped into him while walking into the café opposite Park Street station to get his caffeine fix one day. Perhaps he could repeat the encounter again.
The tram stopped at the next station. Harvey got off the car he was in and proceeded out of the underground facility. He turned to his right and strained his eyes at the row of shops that laid side by side. It was a fairly busy day with plenty of people strolling along the streets. But then again the weather was fantastic and it was downtown, it was always crowded here. Dunkin’ Donuts. Burger King. There it is. He recognized the blue and red sign immediately. Harvey walked toward the edge of the road onto the downtown crossing as he looked out for traffic before getting to the opposite side of the road. He entered the establishment and headed toward the counter.
“Hi, would you like to place your order?” said the man at the counter. He looked slightly older than Harvey.
“One latte, make it a double shot.”
“That would be $6. Would you be having it here, or takeaway?”
“Takeaway.” Said Harvey as he passed a bill to the waiter and took a quick peek at his name tag. It said ‘Assistant Manager’.
“Anderson.” Harvey called out casually. “Say, is Terry working today?”
The waiter looked up from the cashier as he closed the tray. “You tell me. I haven’t seen him in 2 weeks at least.”
“He quit?”
“Probably fired. He’s been skipping all his shifts. The manager can’t even get him on his cell.” Commented the waiter. “And I’ve been manning all this by myself because that little brat decided to just disappear without a word.”
The waiter started to prepare his drink. “If you do see him though, tell him I want my twenty bucks back. I work hard for my money you know.”
“I’ll do that. But first, I need to know where to look for him.” Said Harvey. “Any idea where I can find him? Do you have an address or something?”
Anderson handed Harvey his order. “We probably have his address in our staff records. But I sure can’t give it to anybody who comes asking for things like that. I don’t even know you.”
Harvey slid two ten dollar bills across the counter. “Consider the debt settled.” He said as he slid another two. “And this, is for your trouble.”
Anderson looked around nervously before he pocketed the money. “One minute.” He said before slipping into the back room. He reemerged 5 minutes later with a handwritten note which he handed to Harvey. “You were never here.”
“Damn right you are. Take it easy pal.” Replied Harvey as he collected his latte and left the café.
Looks like he was not heading back to school after all.
Chapter 6
KATIE KNOCKED ON the wooden door as she couldn’t find a door bell, half expecting the owner of the house to not be in. Things were never so smooth when it came to investigative work. She tapped a little louder for the second time. The door swung open and in behind it stood a cordial looking woman who spotted a slight bump at the midsection. Her voice suited her demeanor.
“Hello! Who are you looking for?”
Katie stared at the woman standing in front of her. Harvey was right, she didn’t look like she was capable of shooting anyone. Hell, she didn’t even looked like she was capable of smashing a bug. But looks can be deceiving.
“Detective Womack, FBI.” Womack said as he flashed his badge. “This is my associate, Agent Moulin. Are you Miss Leann Wright?”
“Yes I am. What is the matter?”
“I believe you work for Professor Bruce Golan at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health?”
“That is correct.” Said Leann. She seemed a little jittery. “I’m sorry, could you all just come in and wait for a second. I really need to go to the loo. Pregnant woes.” She said as she darted away from the door back into the house without saying another word.
Womack turned to look at Katie. Katie shrugged her shoulders and stepped forward. “You heard her. Let’s go inside.”
Katie and Womack entered the house and walked through the doorway toward the living area. Katie stopped by a console along the side of the doorway where a single vase of dried roses and a photo frame was stood. She picked up the photo frame and looked at the picture. It was a photo of Leann and her husband in a loving embrace. Other than looking a few years younger and a couple of pounds lighter, Leann practically looked the same – the jovial bearing was apparent. They entered the living area, a small and snug room with high ceilings and cozy furniture. The Wrights were not wealthy, but their home was full of warmth and positive energy.
“Apologies for that.” Leann said as she reappeared with her trademark smile. “Would you all like something to drink? Tea?”
“No thank you.” Katie replied. “We won’t be here for long.”
“Alright, suit yourself. So? To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“It’s about the professor.” Katie said.
“What about him?”
Katie opened her mouth but was interrupted by Womack. “Where were you this morning, Miss Wright? You seemed to be missed at work.”
“Please, call me Leann. I took the day off. I had an appointment with my gynecologist, at the hospital.”
Womack scribbled that down on his notebook. “How long were you there for?”
“I reached the clinic at about 10 in the morning. I was there for about 3 hours.”
“Between 11 a.m. to 12 p.m., what were you doing exactly?”
“With my doctor, going through a check-up.”
“Slightly past 12, your cell was engaged when we tried to call you. Well, actually we got someone to call you. Where were you?”
“I was in the ultrasound room. I switched my cell off as we were doing some ultrasound scans.” Leann said as she started to smile widely again. “I saw my baby, for the first time.”
“Can you provide me with the name of the hospital and the doctor you went to?”
“Sure.”
Womack paused in consideration. He then turned around and whispered to Katie. “It wasn’t her.”
“You don’t say.” Replied Katie in a side glance.
“What is all this about? Will someone care to tell me something?” said Leann, starting to get a little impatient.
“Apologies, Miss Wright.” Katie replied in a serious tone. “It’s Bruce Golan, he has been shot.”
“Oh god.” Leann said as she covered her mouth with her hands in shock. “Is he alright? How is he?”
“Leann, how long have you worked for Professor Golan?” continued Womack, ignoring her.
Leann still had her hands on her mouth which she slowly dropped in a timid fashion as she replied. “Longer than I should have. The number of years I spent working as a lab assistant and the experience I have gathered, I could have gotten my PhD if I wanted to. 6 years–”
“Can you tell us more about Golan?” asked Katie.
“He’s a gentle, soft-spoken and reserved man who’s dedicated his life to the improvement of people’s lives through his research work. He has published countless journals and was instrumental in a couple of public health policies, you know? Even the HHS takes his advice rather seriously.”
“Go on.”
“He comes t
o work at the exact same time every morning, and leaves the lab at 6 on the dot. Never takes a break from his work. Never has lunch for more than an hour.”
“What about his family?”
“He’s married with two grown up sons. Both of them married with their own families. They don’t live in Massachusetts.”
“So he lives alone with his wife?”
“Yeah.” Leann replied. “They used to have a housekeeper, but she passed on.”
“Old age?” asked Katie with a frown.
“She was young, if I’m not mistaken. In her thirties, I believe.” Leann said and paused, trying to recall certain details. “She got infected with a deadly soil-borne disease caused by a bacterium called Melioidosis, apparently from gardening. It is extremely rare in the United States. Very unfortunate of her.”
“I see.” Said Womack. “And his friends?”
“He doesn’t have much friends.” Replied Leann. “Perhaps with the exception of Nolan and Moore.”
“Yes Mr. Nolan, we have met.” Womack said as he took a quick look at Katie. “Harvey Nolan and–?”
“Bertram Moore, Professor Bertram Moore.” Katie said. “He is Harvey’s foster father and a law professor at the Harvard Law School.”
“That’s him.” Affirmed Leann. “They are the only ones who would drop by to see him. But even they don’t come that often.”
“Harvey was the one who found Professor Golan this morning and called the police.” Added Katie.
“God bless him!” Leann cried, placing her right hand on her chest as she took a deep breath. “Is he alright?”
“He’s okay.”
“Thank god.” She exhaled.
A silence fell among them.
“Will you call us?” said Womack as he broke the silence, concluding there was nothing more to be asked. “If you think of anything?”
“Of course.” said Leann.
Womack reached out his right hand. “That will be all for now then Miss Wright. We’ll be in touch if we need anything.” Katie nodded her thanks at Leann.
“Oh yeah one more thing.” Added Detective Womack. “Where does Bruce Golan live?”
Chapter 7
HARVEY TOOK A LONG stare at the piece of paper with the terrible handwriting. He then peeked up from the note and looked at the house in front of him. The sundance walls and white pillars looked weathered and filled with grime from years of neglect.
This should be it.
He nipped unhurriedly toward the house with the faded pale yellow paint and climbed up the short flight of stairs that led to the door of it. He located the door bell and placed a finger on it.
Buzz buzz–
A minute passed uneventfully and a middle age woman finally opened the door. She had extremely unkempt hair.
“Yes?”
“Hi, is Terry Gallagher in?” Harvey said. “He’s been absent from work lately, we are just a little worried about him.”
“He isn’t here.” The woman said with a deep frown forming on her face. “Did you say he hasn’t been to work?”
“Yeah. For about 2 weeks now.”
She looked like she was thinking. “Is this the music store?”
Harvey was slightly taken aback. “No, Mdm. The café.”
“Oh.” Said the woman. She didn’t seem surprised. “That boy’s gonna be the death of me.”
“Mrs. Gallagher? I assume?”
“That’s me.” Replied Terry’s mother.
“When was the last time you saw him??”
“Don’t know.” Mrs. Gallagher replied as she yawned. “Maybe 3 days ago, not sure. That boy treats this house like a hotel. He comes and leaves as he pleases.”
“His dad–?”
“Dead.”
“I’m sorry–”
“Don’t be. I’m not.” The woman conjured a cigarette from nowhere and put it in her lips. She lit it up and inhaled.
“Has he always been like that? Terry.” Asked Harvey.
“Well. He’s always been a free spirit, but lately it’s becoming worse. I hardly see him anymore.” Mrs. Gallagher said as she exhaled. “I was so proud when he got into Harvard medical. He’s a bright kid, just doesn’t take his life seriously.”
She took a second puff and exhaled again. “I wonder how I am going to afford paying for his school fees next year.”
Harvey frowned. “I thought he was in his final year.”
“He was.” Replied Mrs. Gallagher, actually looking kind of intoxicated. Or perhaps recovering from one. “But he failed a module. Some project bullshit. Come to think of it, it was about that time he stopped coming home.”
“Professor Golan failed him?” said Harvey, in a surprised manner.
“Who’s Professor Golan?”
“His research professor.”
Mrs. Gallagher looked at Harvey suspiciously but doesn’t say a word about it. “He was pretty upset. I could tell that at least. I guess he was really tired of going to school. The thought of repeating a module really affected him profoundly.”
“Where does he stay then?” said Harvey. “If he doesn’t come home.”
“Probably with one of his many girlfriends.” Mrs. Gallagher replied. “That kid brings back a different girl every time he comes home. Must have taken after his dad.”
Harvey ignored the last comment. He was getting sick of the cigarette smoke. “Do you know where I can find him then?”
Mrs. Gallagher looked afar as if she was deep in thought. “The last one was a brunette. Big round eyes.”
She continued to stare across the street as she tried to recall a certain scene from her fuzzy memory. “Judging from the sun nearing the horizon. I would say you can try your luck at Whitney’s on JFK Street, it’s a bar across the street from across the street from The Garage.”
“Thank you. I better be going then.”
“You’d better hurry if you wanna find him sober. Look out for his car. It’s a grey piece of scrap metal. 6479 TS. Find it and you’ll find him.”
Chapter 8
“LOOKS LIKE NOBODY’S home.” Said Katie. She put her face nearer against the window, trying to see if she can spot anyone. No luck.
The evening sky was starting to darken and the cool spring breeze seemed to have dropped a couple of degrees in response. The rain from earlier did not help. Katie pulled her jacket a little tighter against herself as her body shivered slightly from the drop in temperature. She loathed the cold. Katie retracted from the window and returned to press on the doorbell again. No answer. She climbed down the stair that led to the door of the pale green North Cambridge house toward her partner. A white picket fence surrounded the compound of the Victorian inspired property with a beautifully kempt lawn covering every inch of the land with its green splendor.
“Take a look around the compound, quietly.” Agent Womack instructed. “I doubt we can get a search warrant by today. Just see what you can find.”
He returned to his cellphone instantly. “This is Womack speaking, I need details of one Tracy Golan, her cell number–”
Katie nodded at Womack, who wasn’t focusing on her. She pushed the unlocked swinging door of the white fence and proceeded to scout the property herself. Staring into the house through a side window, she could see that the interior was rather bare and plain – not luxurious at all. Considering the current property prices of Cambridge, Golan must have bought this house more than 15 years ago – no Harvard professor on a teacher's meager pay can afford one these days. Katie continued her strut through the lawn, she almost felt kind of bad stepping on the delicate grass. She reached the back of the house where a small size garden area was bricked up to accommodate edible plants. She could see asparagus and broccoli and butter lettuce and mustard greens and strawberries. It was a sight to behold, in a small garden behind an old house. The housekeeper must had green fingers. She could see the entire backyard from where she was standing, and nothing s
eemed to be out of place. She backtracked alongside the house, planning to head out of the compound when she noticed a woman staring at her from the neighboring house.
“Hello.” Katie said as she approached her. She flashed her badge. “FBI, Agent Moulin. Have you seen Tracy Golan, your neighbor?”
The woman folded her arms. “Is she in some kind of trouble?”
“No, we just need her assistance in some investigation matters.”
The lady did not seemed convinced. “I saw her leaving in a hurry this morning, right after old Bruce left. Haven’t seen either of them since. Are they okay?” she continued.
“They’re fine.” Lied Katie. “Could she be at work?”
“Tracy’s a homemaker. She’s usually at home.”
Katie reached the white picket fence. “Noticed anything unusual with the family? These few days?”
“Not really, they are quite predictable. Bruce usually heads out at 8.30 a.m. in the morning, Tracy shortly after. She’s usually back by lunch and doesn’t leave the house. He comes home no later than 7. That has been their weekday routine for as long as I’ve known them.”
Katie snorted inwardly. The neighbor certainly knew a lot about their lives. She must either be a very nosy person or she was up to something. Katie was betting on the former.
“That business with Maria was awful though. Such a pity.” Said the neighbor.
“Maria?”
“Their housekeeper. Ex-housekeeper. She was a hardworking woman. I’ve seen her many a time out in the sun or the cold, tending to the vegetables.”
Katie narrowed her eyes. “Was she always in the garden?”
“Most of the time. The Golans preferred their food organic, so to speak, that’s why they hired her in the first place. They were considering a gardener initially but thought a housekeeper would be better - could help Tracy with her chores. Maria was a godsend.”