The Good Die Twice

by Lee Driver

  Cautiously, the hawk turned its head and peered into the room. One of the men, the shorter one with the cratered face, had fired the gun that killed Rachel. He was seated in a barrel chair by the patio door. The other two men stood in the shadows. But the draperies blocked the hawk’s view of the person seated behind the desk. Whoever was seated there just set a lit cigar in an ashtray. The hawk lifted off, spread its forty-inch wingspan and flew to a tree branch where it might have a better angle of sight.

  “Use your head, Sheila. I thought you wanted to be known as a hard-hitting reporter, not some dame who rode her Dad’s coattails up the ladder.”

  “I do.” Sheila struggled to keep up with Dagger’s long strides as they climbed the winding staircase. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m looking for Nick.”

  “You mean you’re looking for Sara.” Sheila stopped in front of Nick’s opened bedroom door. “Well, the bed’s made so I guess her virtue is still intact.” Sheila pulled Dagger into the bedroom and shut the door.

  “Sheila, keep your head on the case, not sex.”

  “What case?”

  Dagger unwrapped her arms from around his neck, her lips leaving a trail down his neck as if marking her territory. He held her at arm’s length. “Rachel Tyler was alive prior to four o’clock Thursday morning. She has been missing for five years. Where has she been and who killed her? I would think you would be chomping at the bit on this one.”

  Sheila rolled her eyes and turned away. Sitting down on the bed, she said, “Give me something more to go on than a missing body that suddenly shows up now and is missing again.” She pulled off her shoes and watched coyly as Dagger sat down next to her. Turning, she forced Dagger down on the bed and straddled him. His protesting seemed mute. She was on him like a raging nymph, forcing her tongue into his mouth and his hands over his head.

  Dagger? Dagger heard Sara’s voice but it sounded as if it were in his head.

  He broke free from Sheila saying, “Sara,” like a man calling out a lover’s name in his sleep. He forced himself up, sending Sheila tumbling off the bed.

  Sara, why is it I can hear you in my head? Dagger asked in thought only. The voice was more distinct than just someone listening to his conscience. It was as clear as if she were standing next to him.

  Dagger? Come quick. I’m outside Robert Tyler’s bedroom at the end of a maze of halls. It’s past an alcove.

  Sheila crawled up off the floor and blew a strand of platinum hair from her forehead. “Sara? You’re calling another woman’s name while you’re kissing me?”

  “Not now, Sheila.” Dagger tore out of the bedroom and down the hall. Sara, what do you mean you’re outside of Tyler’s bedroom?

  I saw the killers, Dagger. They are in the room next to Mr. Tyler’s bedroom but I can’t see who they are talking to.

  Why is it I can hear you in my head?

  I didn’t know if we could communicate this way. Grandmother and I were able to whenever I shifted. I guess now you and I can.

  So we can talk to each other in our heads? It dawned on Dagger what Sara had said. He opened the door to Robert Tyler’s bedroom and found Sara’s shoes by the ficus tree and her nylons and dress out on the balcony. He looked out and saw the gray hawk in the tree fifty feet away. Leaving the dress on the balcony, Dagger picked up Sara’s nylons and shoved them in the pocket of his sportscoat.

  I don’t see them anymore.

  Sara, get back here, now.

  The gray hawk flew back to the balcony. The shift happened so quickly Dagger couldn’t distinguish at what point the hawk became Sara. He had even turned away as if she might be totally nude before putting her dress back on, but the hawk had somehow drifted into the dress and came up as Sara, fully clothed.

  Stepping back into the room, Sara picked up her shoes and looked around for her nylons.

  Dagger grabbed her by the shoulders, pressing gently. “Sara, don’t ever do that in strange surroundings again. It is still daylight outside. Someone might have seen you.” Dagger looked around the bedroom. “For all we know, he might have surveillance cameras in the room. Did you check first?” Sara shook her head no. Her eyes, large and bright, filled quickly and her bottom lip started quivering. He tried not to focus on her lips. “What if someone had come into the room besides me? Sara, you have to think first. Do you understand?”

  Sara nodded, turning her bottom eyelashes into tiny springboards catapulting the teardrops up. They seemed to be suspended for the longest time before plummeting onto her high cheeks.

  Dagger’s defenses broke down. He gathered her in his arms and held her tight. He whispered, “Don’t ever do that again, Sara. Please.”

  “I won’t. I’m sorry, Dagger.”

  “Well, well. Isn’t this a Kodak moment.” Sheila stood in the doorway, one fist jammed onto her hip. “You leave me in bed to come play with your receptionist. How so like you, you poor excuse for a...”

  Dagger broke the embrace. “I left you two minutes ago, Sheila. I doubt even I could have accomplished much in that little time.”

  “Oh really?” Sheila walked over and pulled something protruding from Dagger’s pocket. “Looks like you got a pretty good start.” She held up Sara’s pantyhose.

  Sara swiped them from Sheila’s fingers and retreated to the master bathroom.

  “Don’t pretend to be jealous.” Dagger walked out of the room and entered the adjacent room, not bothering to knock first. It was empty. “Did you see anyone come out of this room?”

  “What? No.”

  Dagger checked the oversized mahogany desk. Other than a calendar and notepad, it was tidy, a little too neat. He looked at the high-backed chairs, the barrel chair by the balcony. There wasn’t a scrap of paper, a burned out cigar, a jacket, a hint of who might have been there. He opened another door on the opposite side of the room. It opened to another hallway.

  “Just great. Just fucking great.”

  “What? Dagger, what is it?” Sheila demanded.

  “Nothing.” He rushed past her but then stopped. Lifting up her left hand, he eyed the engagement ring she still wore. “You can take this off now.” He pulled the check out of his pocket and ripped it in half. “And tell your father I really don’t need the money.”

  “What is this?” She held the two halves of the check together, saw the check made out to Dagger and signed by her father.

  “Your father tried to pay me to string you along, assuming, quite correctly, that I am too much of an ass to go through with the wedding. This keeps you tied up, out of the dating market, and more likely to stay single and follow in Daddy’s footsteps at The Daily Herald.” He could tell by the look on her face that she didn’t believe him. “Just ask him.”

  CHAPTER 15

  At six the next morning, Sara and Dagger found themselves at Skizzy’s Pawn Shop. A Closed sign was pressed against the door glass. Dagger rapped loudly.

  “Are you sure he’s in?”

  “He’s always in. Skizzy lives here.” After another minute of pounding, the shade lifted. A set of beady eyes peered out. Chains and bolts were unfastened and the door was pulled open a scant two inches.

  “Are you alone?” Skizzy stretched a bony neck out the door. His features looked alien, with bulging eyes and a nose too small for his face. His eyes jerked from side to side. “Come on in, quick, quick.” He slammed the door shut behind them and refastened all the chains and bolts. Tufts of short, gray hair stuck out around his head, and what was gathered in a long pony tail was attempting to wrestle its way free from the rubber band.

  Dagger held out a large bag and a cup of coffee. “We come bearing gifts.”

  “Store-bought with preservatives meant to render us like zombies?”

  Sara took a step back from Skizzy. Dagger wrapped a reassuring arm around her shoulder. “No, Sara made the coffee. The vegetables are from our garden and the bread Sara made with all natural ingredients.”

  Skizzy peered into the bag. “T
hank you. Smells good.” Skizzy stood a little taller than Sara. He wore a stained tee shirt over a ragged pair of green camouflage pants, and battered tennis shoes. His conversation then turned private, carried out in a whisper as if a conversation with himself. “Can’t have labels in your garbage. Then they’ll know what you eat, what stores you shop at. They can track your comings and goings.” He noticed Sara for the first time. “This the subject?”

  “Yes. Sara Morningsky, Skizzy Borden.”

  “No relation to Lizzy.” Skizzy didn’t even laugh at his own joke. He just motioned for them to follow him past the glass cases of jewelry, through a curtained doorway, and into a small sitting room with a bed, television set, and a wall of books. Skizzy pressed a button under one of the shelves and the bookcase opened, revealing a steep staircase.

  He led them down to a paneled basement. Bright fluorescent bulbs illuminated the room. It felt damp in this makeshift bunker. Shelving units held gallons of distilled water and canned goods, minus their labels. The cans were marked with a felt pen.

  “Skizzy?” Sara whispered to Dagger. “What is that short for?”

  Her voice echoed off the walls and settled on Skizzy’s ears. “Paranoid schizophrenic,” Skizzy said. “But I don’t understand why.” He pointed a black box with blinking green lights at the walls and did a slow, three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn.

  “What’s he doing,” Sara asked.

  “Checking to see if aliens came in during the night and bugged the place.” Dagger’s smile toward Skizzy was genuine, affectionate. Skizzy hadn’t been right since he’d returned from ‘Nam. He had supplied Dagger with a lot of equipment, all homemade. Sometimes Dagger thought Skizzy acted crazy so people would leave him alone.

  Sara chuckled. “You are kidding.”

  Skizzy turned a beady eye at her, continued to check the green light on his meter. “Never know how far away they are. They could be jamming my signal now.”

  “Who?” Sara asked with wide-eyed innocence.

  Skizzy’s eyebrow jerked up, his neck twitched. “You know who.” He focused on his meter again. “They can monitor our phone calls from blocks away or from a helicopter. But I’m one step ahead, yes sir.” He seemed to be talking to himself again, asking questions and even providing the answers. Finally, he said, “I guess it’s okay.”

  Pulling out a drawer, he set several cards and blank documents on the desk. “So you told me you need a Social Security card, driver’s license, gun registration, and a birth certificate.”

  “Yes.” Dagger instructed Sara to stand in front of a white screen.

  “Are you sure this is going to work?” Sara clamped her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “Don’t do that, Sara. It doesn’t look good on a driver’s license.”

  Sara straightened the eyelet collar on her floral sundress. Dagger brushed her hair away from her eyes.

  “My fake I.D.s always work.” Skizzy checked the film in the camera.

  “Skizzy is the best.” Dagger stepped back behind Skizzy and motioned with his fingers for Sara to smile.

  “I don’t know why we have to go through all this.” Sara checked the buttons on her dress and clasped her hands in front of her.

  “Trust me. I know Sheila is going to have Sal Wormley turn every stone in the states to find information on you, and when there isn’t any, she’s going to get suspicious.”

  Skizzy snapped several shots. “Dagger knows what he’s talking about. He knows how the deceitful mind thinks. I, on the other hand, know a conspiracy when I see one. Take these new driver’s licenses, for instance, with these holograms. It’s just like the metallic strip in the hundred-dollar bills. It’s a way for the government to track us. They know where we are at all times and how much money we are leaving and entering the country with.”

  Sara’s brows knitted. “Why do they want to do that?”

  Skizzy looked at Dagger as if to ask what planet he found her on. “That’s how they control us, girl. Big brother is watching. We have to stay one step ahead.”

  Dagger leaned against an X-Files poster on the wall which read, We Are Not Alone. “Skizzy believes the government has for years covered up the truth that aliens are living among us. Soon, we will all be duplicated, just like in the movie, Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” A wide grin spread across Dagger’s face.

  Skizzy snapped another picture. “Keep laughing. But I’ll be the only survivor. You’ll see.” He turned his computer on. “Now give me that dainty little hand of yours, Sara. I need your prints.” As Sara’s fingerprints appeared on the monitor, Skizzy continued, “Y’all don’t know it, but every baby born since nineteen hundred and ninety-seven has had a computer chip implanted in its neck.” He gave a serious wink and nod to Sara. “It’s another way for them to keep track of us. And everyone who goes in for surgery, the government’s having the doctors put a chip in their necks, too. Can’t trust the government.”

  Sara watched in amazement as her picture appeared on the monitor next to her fingerprints. Then the two merged. “Is this legal?”

  Skizzy and Dagger laughed. Sara’s face flushed. Skizzy asked Sara, “You’ve been working with Dagger how long?” The printer spit out the driver’s license and ran it through a plastic coating machine. “How can someone not have a birth certificate?” He waved a liver-spotted hand through the air, saying, “Forget it, none of my business.”

  “No problem, Skizzy,” Dagger said. “Sara was delivered by her grandmother on a reservation. She never had a birth certificate.”

  “I’ll date your driver’s license back a couple years, your gun registration current as well as your Social Security card. And I have some yellowed paper I can print your birth certificate on.”

  Sara said, “I don’t understand. All anyone has to do is check the Social Security and Department of Motor Vehicle computers and they’ll know I’m not in there.”

  Skizzy smiled broadly, revealing a mouth crammed with teeth fighting each other for room. “That’s the beauty of it. All the computers will show your I.D.s have always been in there.”

  “Skizzy’s a bit of a hacker and worth every penny.” Dagger pulled out his wallet and laid five hundred dollars on the table.

  A bell rang overhead. Skizzy walked over to a television monitor showing the front entrance. Someone was peering through the window. “Damn drunks. Can’t read.” Skizzy looked at the stack of bills. “You brought all twenties, right?”

  “Yes.” Dagger turned to Sara saying, “Can’t have any of those detectable fifty and hundred-dollar bills.” He handed Skizzy the two composite pictures. “See if you can find these two in your computer. I’m looking for a third guy, too, so pictures of their known associates would help.” He also handed him several phone numbers. “I would like a listing of all calls to and from these numbers for the past five years.” The numbers were for all the phones at the Tyler mansion.

  “Five years?” Skizzy moaned.

  “Yes, but you can narrow it down to only those that are repeated with unusual frequency.” Dagger repositioned the thick watch on his wrist and checked the time.

  “I suppose you want this yesterday?”

  Dagger’s dark eyes smiled. “Of course.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “I can’t believe this looks so real.” Sara held up her birth certificate. She and Dagger stood on opposite sides of their oval-shaped, granite and chrome kitchen counter. Halogen lights hung from a wide beam suspended from the ceiling. The room looked like an industrial kitchen designed for a chef school. Clean lines, a lot of light, an abundance of cabinets, and plenty of room. A wall of windows overlooked the flower garden. The walls matched the granite countertops. Herbs and flowers hung upside down from a rod in the greenhouse just off the kitchen. A vase filled with yellow roses sat in the middle of a chrome and granite kitchen table.

  Dagger downed half a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. In the background they could hear Einstein screeching, “GOOD MORNING. RISE AN
D SHINE. AWWWKK.”

  “You should put the birth certificate in the safe and always carry the driver’s license, Social Security card, and gun registration,” Dagger instructed. “What time are you meeting Sal Wormley for lunch?”

  “One o’clock.”

  Dagger saw the name on the card that accompanied the roses. “You didn’t say much about your evening with Nick. Are these roses an apology for something?”

  Sara shrugged. “I should probably be the one sending him roses. He got a little pushy and I had to push back.”

  “Good girl. I knew you could take care of yourself.”

  Sara noticed the thick file folder and notes on the Rachel Tyler case. “Have you found out anything new?”

  “Interesting rags-to-riches story. Rachel Lidowski was the only child of a steelworker and housewife. She changed her name to Rachel Liddie at the age of sixteen when she entered a local modeling contest. The rest is history. Her face graced the covers of Seventeen, Cosmopolitan, McCall’s, all the fashion magazines, as well as the New York and Paris runways.” Dagger leaned over, elbows on the counter, studying the flawless face. It was a face no one would forget. Unique, one of a kind. “All that attention and she was still able to keep her head on straight.”

  Sara picked up one of the photographs. “Why did she give it all up so young?”

  “Very few models remain marketable after the age of twenty-four, twenty-five. There’s always another fresh sixteen-year-old face to replace them.” Dagger studied some of the notes, took a sip of his juice. “She’s almost a little too good to be true. No scandalous headlines, no partying til all hours on the drug scene. She came from a pretty strict background. The all-American girl, mom and apple pie.”

  “You don’t trust the report?”

  Dagger shrugged. “There’s always a flaw, even in a masterpiece.” He smiled a crooked smile, his dark eyes twinkled. “After all, look at us.”