Beyond Physical

by D Pichardo-Johansson

  Richard was puzzled. “I don’t understand. How can I not be attached to what I want with all my heart?”

  Andrews patted his shoulder. “It takes practice.” He got up and was starting to walk away, when Richard held his arm.

  “That was good teaching, Master—but I want my friend Carl back now.”

  Carl looked at him with curiosity. Richard added, “Before going back into the Master mode, you were starting to suggest something. I haven’t sunk low enough yet to ask you for seduction advice, but I guess I’m curious. Carl, what was it?”

  Carl sat back on the couch and smiled. “This lady’s obviously confused right now. Give her a few days’ break. If I were you, I’d keep my hands off her long enough to earn her trust again.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Stick to what has worked for you before. You’ve been seducing her brain for months; that’s good. That’s the way to a woman’s body. Keep it up.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Richard said, “She’s too smart to believe I gave up that easily.”

  “Oh, she’ll believe it, because she’ll want to believe it.”

  Richard assimilated Carl’s words. Then he shook his head. “No. It’s too late now. Forget what I said. This is the second time she turned me down, and I’m too proud to ever approach her again. She’s dead to me.”

  Chapter 26

  Richard rushed into the police station to take his seat for observing behind the mirrors in the interrogation room. He breathed deeply, still trying to shed the anger his last meeting with Dr. Levenstein had left in him.

  He’d needed to inform Dr. Levenstein that his security was being downsized, as he was no longer considered a likely next victim. The doctor hadn’t taken it well at all and had harassed him without end. He hated the man more than ever, now that he knew what he was trying to do against the Hospice House. However, he was stuck with the job of protecting him.

  That was the last thing he needed after his painful weekend. Ray was back in the angry-teenager mode. His new weapon was accusing Richard of having abandoned him and his mother years ago. Richard knew that those false ideas were likely planted by his ex, and they felt more painful as they were stirring up memories about his own father.

  If that wasn’t enough to handle, Sunday night he’d returned to his house to find all his clothes were gone from the closet. He found a letter from Hailey, explaining her plan to burn them all in revenge for “dumping her.” Only the clothes he had on and those in the hamper or the laundry room were saved.

  He thought his life couldn’t get any more painful than it already was. Yet Joy’s interview, about to begin, threatened to prove him wrong.

  Through the one-way glass, he saw her walk into the room and shake hands with Samuel and the chief, and his heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t seen her for over a week and thought he had a hold of himself. He was wrong.

  He watched quietly as the interview started.

  “Dr. Clayton, do you recognize this?” Samuel showed her some pictures.

  She gasped. “That’s the same pendant Michael used to wear!”

  Samuel raised his eyebrows. “Do you know where he got it from?”

  “He came back home from a trip to New York and brought two identical necklaces—this pendant hanging from a black cord. He always wore his, and he wanted me to wear mine; but I never did. It wasn’t my style.”

  “When was that?”

  “About two and a half years ago.”

  “So, about six months before his death. Did he explain the meaning of the pendant?”

  Joy hesitated, as if trying to recall. “The meaning of the spiral on it was something about the Milky Way . . . I don’t remember well. It was the insignia from a club he used to attend here in Fort Sunshine. It had its main branch in New York.”

  Samuel leaned forward. “A club?”

  “Yes. It was his only hobby. They used to get together to discuss New Age books and debate about them.”

  Frowning, Samuel nodded. “For how long did he attend that . . . club?”

  “Two or three years, maybe more.”

  “Where did they used to meet?”

  “That, I don’t know.”

  “If you weren’t part of the club, why would he want you to wear the necklace?”

  “He kept asking me to join him in one of their meetings, but I had too much on my plate at the time.”

  “Do you still have the other necklace?”

  “I have no idea what happened to it. Shortly after he gave it to me, we moved to a new house. Then after Michael died, the kids and I moved to the house we live in now. It must have gotten lost in one of those moves.”

  “I see.” Samuel was silent. “Did you meet other members of that club?”

  “Michael’s campaign manager, Stephen, and his PR representative, Samantha, were also members.” She paused. “And also Dr. Josh Levenstein—I think.”

  Watching, Richard’s heart raced. Had he missed an obvious suspect all this time?

  For the rest of the interview, Samuel repeated the questions, looking for inconsistent answers, but he couldn’t find any.

  “Thank you, Dr. Clayton.” Samuel smiled. “That’s it for today. I’ll walk you out.”

  When Samuel joined him in the observation room, Richard said, “So, the next people we have to interview are Levenstein, Fox, and McKinney.”

  “Yes. Fox and McKinney said they’d never seen that coin. Either they have a terrible memory, or they lied.”

  “I’m also calling O’Hara’s best friend, Clark. I doubt that they were so close and he wasn’t part of this.”

  Tilting his head toward the door, Samuel asked, “How about her? I still find it hard to believe that she was that disconnected from her husband’s circle of friends.”

  Richard shook his hand in a dismissive gesture. “That’s because you don’t know Joy. She’s extremely smart but pathologically distracted—like she lives on another planet.”

  Looking at him with caution, Samuel said, “Richard, I hope your objectivity is not being compromised in this case. I know you began to feel affection for O’Hara’s widow.”

  Affection. Interesting choice of word.

  Samuel said, “Richard, I already ordered to resume monitoring her.”

  Shocked, Richard shook his head. “Samuel, you have to be kidding.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m glad, now, that you never blew the cover. We need you to get closer to her and find out for good if she can lead us to the rest of the members of this group.”

  This was the last complication Richard needed in his life. Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed. “Samuel, maybe you’re right and my objectivity is not reliable right now. I think I should step away from this case.”

  Samuel stared at him in disbelief. “Richard! You know this case like the back of your hand. Bringing someone else in to replace you would set me back months!” Placing his hand on Richard’s shoulder, he insisted, “Richard, forget what I said. I trust your objectivity. You’re a professional. I want to give you the chance to prove yourself to the right people. You’re not quitting this case­­—and that’s final.”

  He patted Richard’s back. “You’re going through a period of burnout from working too hard for the past months. Take it easy for the next couple of weeks. Limit yourself to following Mrs. O’Hara, and I’ll handle things here. It’s an order.”

  Samuel gave him one last tap on the shoulder and then left the room.

  Richard felt on the verge of madness. He’d promised himself he was done with Joy; now he had no choice but finding an excuse to approach her. This was ridiculous.

  Richard’s cell phone rang. The caller ID announced Jim from Data Processing. He picked up.

  “Hey, Richard. I’m done with that data you brought me the other week about the Hospice House. I have interesting results to show you.”

  Richard’s bad mood vanished instantly. He’d just found his excuse.

  Chapter 27

  Richard arrived a
t Joy’s office exactly as she was walking out. The expression on her face when she saw him was as if she’d seen an armed, masked robber.

  Raising a hand, he spoke before she did. “Joy, I’m not here for personal reasons. I have important information about the funding of the Hospice House.”

  Joy’s look was skeptical. “Richard, I don’t want to be impolite, but I’m running late for an appointment. Would you mind discussing it with Ava, and she’ll bring me up to speed later?”

  She walked away. Before she could get too far, Richard spoke fast. “The reason why you’re not saving the government money is because your patients are living longer than they should.”

  Joy stopped abruptly and turned around slowly. “What?”

  He extracted a spiral bound report from his laptop carrier and browsed through the pages until he found what he was looking for. It was obviously professional work, loaded with graphs and tables.

  “Look at the graphs yourself, broken down by diagnosis. The mean survival rate of your patients here is nearly double the survival rate you predicted, based on the literature.”

  Accepting the report from his hands, she looked at it with eyes wide. “Please come to my office.”

  He followed her to the office, and she sat on a chair, reading the page in front of her. “Where . . . where did you get this?”

  “My friend Jim put this together. Ava facilitated the data. It’s an analysis of the expense reports for the Hospice House compared to the predictions you made in your original proposal.”

  Sitting next to her, he turned the pages explaining the findings. There were patients who’d been in the house since it opened over two years ago and were still not dead, against all predictions. Those outliers alone were enough to throw away any statistical calculation of the average survival; but even when correcting for that by analyzing instead the median survival, the results stood. Her budget predictions per patient care per month were right on target. The problem was that the patients were living longer than expected.

  She was dazed. Putting his hands over her shoulders, he shook her softly. “Joy, do you realize what’s happening? Your patients are doing exactly what you told Nana to do. They’re proving their doctors wrong.”

  The look on her face was a mixture of happiness and disbelief. “But how can this be? They’re not getting chemotherapy, dialysis, pacemakers . . . We’re only treating them with comfort measures.”

  Richard looked her straight in the eyes. “Don’t you see it? Your theories were right! It’s your support groups, your praying team, your comedy in the waiting room, your parties . . . By making them feel happy, by healing their spirits, you’re keeping their bodies alive longer.”

  Joy pondered. “Richard, many things aren’t taken into account here. Selection bias—my patients may have less aggressive diseases than average. Also, it could be that patients are being referred to hospice earlier than in the past. To prove what you say, we’d need to perform a randomized clinical trial.”

  He squeezed her arms gently. “But I do believe it’s true. You’ve given their lives a sense of purpose. You’ve made them feel loved. For them, life was worth living again.” He surprised himself with his enthusiasm. Somehow, it didn’t feel like the rehearsed undercover act he thought it would be.

  Your sole presence makes life worth living. His unspoken thoughts scared him.

  A long silence fell. “Richard, thank you for showing me this. No matter what happens, I can have the satisfaction of believing that my work has meant more than I planned.”

  Richard sighed. “Can you at least show this to the bureaucrats and pick their brains?”

  Joy considered it. “It doesn’t hurt to try.”

  “That’s the attitude!” Richard touched her back in what was meant to be an encouraging gesture, but the feeling of her skin under his fingers brought a flashback from their last kiss, sending electricity through his body. Joy must have sensed it. Tensing up, she stood up from her chair and moved a few steps away from him.

  “Richard, I appreciate your concern, but I feel uncomfortable with the idea that you went through all this trouble—”

  Lifting one hand, he interrupted her. “Joy, there are no strings attached to this. After the last time we talked, I’ve had plenty of time to think, and I agree with you that you didn’t know what you were doing that night—neither did I.”

  Joy raised her eyebrows.

  Getting up too, he continued. He’d written and rehearsed what he was about to say. “I guess I was more drunk than I was ready to accept. You’re an attractive woman. I acted on impulse. But I’m fine now. It would be a pity to take the great friendship we’ve carved out over the past months and throw it out the window. Don’t you agree?”

  Joy seemed cautious. “What are you proposing?”

  His eyes were betraying him, and he knew he was staring at her lips, coveting them. He blinked several times to bring himself to reality and said, “Let’s forget the whole thing and move on. I want to help you save the Hospice House. All I ask is for you to let me be a friend helping a friend—nothing more.”

  Joy pierced him with her dark eyes. Her gaze seemed to speak by telepathy, telling him, I know you’re lying. You’d rather be ripping off my clothes right now.

  He sustained her look with an innocent half-smile, as if sending the message, I have no idea what you’re talking about.

  The conviction in her eyes diminished. “Did you really consider me your friend?”

  Smiling, he boosted the charm. “Of course! The friend who made me laugh all the time, my best debate partner, the person who challenges me with spiritual theories . . .” He paused and concluded with a smile, “My caramel-mocha-drinking buddy.”

  She laughed, and he added, “And one last thing.” He looked at her with a clean expression. “The friend who gives the most wonderful hugs on this planet.”

  He opened his arms and invited her. She gave in and hugged him.

  Like in a movie, a sequence of images crossed Richard’s brain. The memories of their last kiss mixed at flash speed with the memories from his dream months ago, the two of them on her recliner. Her mouth. The softness of her skin under his fingers. The curves of her body under his hands. If Joy could have seen the look in his eyes, she would’ve known the danger she was in when she agreed to hug him.

  If there’s a hell, I’m going straight to it for being such a liar.

  Chapter 28

  Richard sat on a chair in the interrogation room, facing Stephen Fox, Charles Clark, and Samantha McKinney. He’d been silent for a long time. Getting up, he walked to the control panel for the video cameras in the room and turned it off.

  “The cameras are off. This introduction will be brief.”

  Slowly, he walked back to sit in front of them. The tone of his voice was icy cold yet threatening. He shot them a murderous look. “I’m so angry with the three of you I could kick you!”

  Startled, they looked at him.

  He continued slowly. “You don’t have the slightest idea what a resentful son-of-a-bitch I can be as an enemy. If you don’t believe me, go ask my ex-wife. I hate, I repeat, I hate it when people lie to me—and you all did. Forget about the obstruction of justice charge for lying to a federal agent, that’s nothing compared to the consequences of lying to me.”

  The tension in the room made the air heavy. Getting up from his chair, Richard pointed at Samantha McKinney. “You lied to me about not having seen that pendant. You were going with him to those Lords of the Universe meetings.”

  He moved to Clark. “You lied, too. There’s no way you could be O’Hara’s gym buddy and never see that pendant he wore.”

  Walking a few more steps, he faced Fox. “And you.” He got his face close to his. “I’ve been worrying myself to death trying to protect you, thinking that your life was in danger, and you lied to my face! You lied about having never seen the coin or heard the words ‘Lords of the Universe.’ You also lied to me when you said you had
no contact with O’Hara outside of work.”

  Fox snapped back. “I did not lie! It’s not my fault I misinterpreted some of your questions. The fact that Michael and I belonged to the same social circle has nothing to do with whether we were friends or not! You can interrogate me a hundred times and will get the same answers!”

  Richard glared at him and then walked slowly back to the camera. “There are no guarantees, but I’m giving you one last chance to cooperate and earn my good will. If you opt not to help me, I’ll make sure the FBI makes your life miserable. We’re going to dissect your lives in every possible way, from searching exhaustively every single piece of property you own to getting the IRS to audit you.”

  Fox almost jumped out of his seat.

  Richard smiled. Narrowing his eyes, he turned the cameras back on. He spoke in a formal, calm tone of voice. “Now, let’s get started.”

  * * *

  “What’s the update?” Samuel asked as Richard entered his office and took a seat.

  Richard shook his head. “They stood the re-interrogation. Fox and McKinney maintain that the ‘reading club’ they attended with O’Hara had nothing to do with the LOTU. Clark says he knows nothing. But I have the feeling they’re lying. How did it go with you and Levenstein?”

  Shaking his head too, Samuel answered, “Levenstein was in Europe when O’Hara died.”

  “McKinney was in DC, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t give someone an order. I think this was teamwork. I think everybody knows more than they admit, but they either have a loyalty pact or are scared of each other.”

  Samuel drummed his fingers on the desk. “What do you want to do?”

  “I want to encourage them to break the pact.” Richard lay a folder on the desk. “I spent last night researching them and found a couple of scandals in Fox’s and Clark’s pasts: an old issue about Fox’s tax reports and drunken videos from Clark’s college years.”