You Think You Know Me Pretty Well

by David Kessler

  “You want me to put my ass in a sling for one of those courthouse scavengers? No way, José.”

  “Well all I can do is pass on your message – ”

  “There’s no need to pass it on. I’ve got his cell phone number, so I can – ”

  “No, Mr. Kelly, please don’t call him now, he won’t – ”

  The line went dead.

  18:51 PDT

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me the name of this friend?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “I don’t mean to pry. It’s just that I have a client…”

  He shook his head, realizing the futility of it. Anita already knew about that. Just then his cell phone rang. He looked at the display. The Park Police Station. That meant it was probably a client. He couldn’t handle it right now and in any case they should call the office.

  He pressed the red button, sending the call through to voicemail.

  Anita Morgan was staring at him.

  “May I ask you a question, Mr. Sedaka?”

  “Sure.”

  “What exactly are you trying to find out? I mean, what does all this have to do with the death of Dorothy Olsen?”

  “I don’t really know. It’s just that Clayton Burrow may be innocent. And that implies that someone else is guilty.”

  “And who do you think that someone might be?”

  “Well we’ve discovered evidence that she had a troubled relationship with her father.”

  “And you think Edgar might have killed her?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  “Well I wouldn’t know about their relationship. We divorced in 1979 and never saw each other after that.”

  “Never?”

  “There was no need to. We didn’t have any other children and there was a lot of bitterness. I blamed him for Jimmy too, remember.”

  “Yes, but was Edgar capable of deliberate cruelty?”

  “As distinct from what? Accidental cruelty?”

  “Or callous indifference.”

  “To tell you the truth, Mr. Sedaka, I don’t know. He was a deeply troubled man. He could be moody at the best of times – and especially so after Jimmy’s death.”

  “Well if he knew that Jimmy wasn’t his son, that must have played on his mind too.”

  “Oh absolutely.”

  A thought entered Alex’s head.

  “There’s just one thing I don’t understand. If Edgar was sterile, how come he had another son with Esther?”

  Anita was about to say something when she stopped dead. He noticed her swallowing and suppressing a smile, as if a new thought had entered her head.

  “I notice that you said a son.”

  “I meant Jonathan.”

  “I know who you mean. But you didn’t express any surprise over Dorothy.”

  Alex blushed and squirmed with embarrassment, remembering what Esther had told him about the one-night stand at the frat party. He realized that he had inadvertently breached a confidence. But he had more important things on his mind right now.

  “I can’t talk about it.”

  “Oh it’s all right!” said Anita with a teasing smile that rolled back the years. “I know that neither of them was his biological children.”

  Alex responded with a smile of his own, out of sheer relief.

  “I guess I’ll have to ask Esther about it.”

  Anita because enthusiastic.

  “Well actually I may be able to help.”

  “About the fathers of Dorothy and Jonathan?”

  “I don’t know about Dorothy, but I can tell you about Jonathan.”

  “Yes?”

  Anita sat down on the armchair, prompting Alex to sit back down on the sofa.

  “About three years after Dorothy was born Esther came to me in despair. She told me how bitter and angry Edgar was, how he alternated between rage and self-pity, sarcasm and depression. She thought he suffered from bi-polar disorder – I think they called it manic-depression in those days. She told me that he wanted a son and seemed to blame both her and Dorothy for the fact that he didn’t have one. She said she’d tried everything to get pregnant again but it just wasn’t happening. But by that stage the family had become completely dysfunctional. She’d even resorted to getting Dorothy to dress up as a boy in the hope that it would placate his anger. But that only made him worse.”

  She paused. Alex sat forward.

  “Go on.”

  “Well at that point I told her that it wasn’t her fault. I mean, I didn’t pry or ask her who Dorothy’s father was, but I told her about Edgar firing blanks. That surprised her, but it also frightened her because she realized that her secret was out with me – part of it at least. I think she may have suspected that Edgar wasn’t Dorothy’s father before, but I confirmed it. She spent the next two or three minutes crying in my arms and then she disengaged and realized that Jimmy couldn’t have been his son either.”

  “And he would have known that too. He would also have known from the moment Esther told him she was pregnant with Dorothy that she had cheated on him.”

  “Exactly. First I have a son that he knows isn’t his and, although he wants a son, it makes him feel inadequate. But at least he loves his son. Then the boy dies in a car accident, with Edgar driving, and he feels guilty. And I don’t spare his feelings, because he’s deprived me of my son too. We have violent arguments amid all the anger and guilt and recriminations. Then he marries again and before you know it, his wife is pregnant – and once again he knows he’s not the father. That must have tormented his masculine pride. But at least he hopes it’ll be a boy. And then it turns out to be a girl – so he’s even more resentful.”

  “That would certainly mess up a man’s mind.”

  “Exactly. And all Esther’s efforts to try and put it right only backfired and made it worse.”

  “But what about Jonathan? You said you knew who his father was?”

  “More than that – I introduced them.”

  “You what?”

  “Esther thought that the only thing that would placate Edgar’s constant fits of rage wasn’t just to have another son, but to have one who reminded him of Jimmy. But he still wouldn’t admit that he had a problem and so he wouldn’t sign the consent forms for artificial insemination with a donor. So I decided to help her out by fixing her up with the same family friend who … er … sired little Jimmy.”

  19:06 PDT

  Juanita remembered that Alex had called her when he arrived at Anita Morgan’s house and asked her not to call him unless it was urgent. The truth of the matter was that she wasn’t really sure how urgent it was.

  The missing fax bothered her and she felt she ought to tell him. But that would be rather hard to do with Nat hovering round. She wondered again whether she should simply ask him. But if a fax had come through from the London clinic he should have told her about it. And there was something else that she remembered too.

  Suddenly the phone rang. It was Alex.

  “I’ve finished with Anita Morgan.”

  “Did you find anything out?”

  “Quite a lot. Anything at your end?”

  She told him about the message from the New York law firm.

  “Anything else?”

  Now was the time to voice her suspicions about Nat. But the light pattern on the wall opposite Juanita showed that his door was open. Nat could hear every word that she was saying.

  “I’ll check with Nat. Nat! Anything to tell the boss?”

  “No, nothing!” Nat called back.

  “I heard,” Alex replied before Juanita could say another word. “Okay, I’m on my way back.”

  After she had put the phone down, she noticed Nat’s shadow. She looked up.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Sure,” she replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Why?”

  “You sounded like you wanted to say more … like you’re holding something back.”

  19:24 PDT
>
  Lee Kelly had been trying to call Alex for over thirty minutes. At first it had rung a few times. After that it kept going straight to voicemail, almost like the lawyer was brushing him off.

  Lee knew that Alex wasn’t like that. Alex was a good man and Lee was a good client. Yes, he was a career criminal but he was never violent. And because he was all too aware of the three strikes and you’re out rule, he now confined himself to burglarizing business premises with no residential premises attached. That meant he could afford to break into a branch of Wal-Mart or Sears, but he wouldn’t touch one of those Korean shops where the owner lived above the premises.

  Alex knew this and he knew also that Lee was money in his pocket, at least on those rare occasions when he failed to stay one step ahead of the law. He was a pretty good burglar and he seldom got caught. But when he did, it was Alex who had the honor of getting him out and fixing him up with a bail bondsman. To Lee, the risk of getting caught and sent to jail was an occupational hazard.

  But it was good business for Alex. What Lee liked about Alex was that he never prejudged or tried to moralize with him. He did at times try to persuade Lee to consider going straight, but his arguments were always practical, on the lines of “aren’t you getting kinda old for this sort of thing?” The trouble was that at fifty-five, Lee considered himself too old to do anything else. He didn’t have any real social security and he knew that his mind was too stultified to acquire new skills. Changing his ways was not really an option.

  “Hell, I’ll be coming up to retirement pretty soon,” he once told Alex. “This is for my pension.”

  Indeed, the last time Alex had suggested that Lee reconsider his chosen occupation, Lee had put on his best Fagin accent and launched into a surprisingly convincing rendition of “I’m Reviewing the Situation.”

  They had both smiled at the time. But the truth of the matter was that the reference to saving for the future was all too ironic. The reality was that Lee had let most of his ill-gotten gains slip through his fingers.

  The phone was ringing again. Finally Lee got through to Alex.

  “Hi, Mr. Sedaka. I’ve got a job for you.”

  19:27 PDT

  Juanita was sitting tensely at her desk waiting for Alex to get back, when the phone rang. It was Alex.

  “Hi, Juanita. Listen, I’m going to be delayed slightly.”

  He told her about the calls from Lee Kelly. She told him that she had called the office and that she had tried to get him to use one of the two-bit shysters who hang round the courthouse.

  “I figure I owe it to him. He’s one of my oldest clients – in both senses of the word. Anyway, it’s not like we can do anything. We’re still waiting for the full hearing at eight thirty.”

  After they hung up, Juanita sat thinking. They were rapidly running out of options – and she still hadn’t told Alex her suspicions about Nat. Now it was going to be even longer before she could tell him.

  No! I have to tell him now!

  She had an idea. Quietly and surreptitiously, she took her cell phone and slipped it into her pocket. Then she asked Nat to listen out for the phone and went to the bathroom. She lowered the toilet cover and sat there, messaging Alex in text-speak.

  Fax journal showed fax frm England wen I out geting sandwiches but wasnt der wen I bak. Fink Nat tuk bt nt sure. Also Nat didnt tel wat David sed re travel booking receipt til sliped out. Fink Nat up 2 sumfing.

  After sending it, she flushed the toilet and returned to her desk. Alex called back within a minute on the office line.

  “Alex Sedaka’s office.”

  “Hi, it’s me. Am I on speaker?”

  “No, b – ” She had to force herself not to say boss.

  “I got your text.”

  “Okay,” she replied in a neutral tone.

  “You know, it’s funny, but he said something earlier that made me suspicious.”

  “What?”

  “Something about me brushing off the reporters outside, but it wasn’t clear how he knew.”

  “Uh-huh,” Juanita mumbled, to make it clear that she still couldn’t speak.

  “So he knew about the travel receipt to London and didn’t tell us at first?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then it slipped out.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you think a fax arrived from England?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because it was listed in the journal printout?”

  “Yes?”

  “How many pages?

  “One.”

  “Okay, listen, I promised Lee I’d rep him at the arraignment and I don’t want to bail out on him. But this is too important to mess round with. So what I want you to do is go outside on some pretext and call the clinic on your cell phone. Tell them to re-fax the papers or whatever it was they sent. Then stand by the fax machine and make sure you’re there when they come through.”

  “Okay.”

  19:32 PDT

  David Sedaka was feeling the frustration. He was making progress, but it was painfully slow. Ordinarily that wouldn’t be a problem. Any sort of data recovery is a painstaking process. Just as debugging a computer program is naturally slow. But normally that doesn’t matter because the time is available. And when the job is done, the achievement is all the more satisfying.

  But when time is in short supply, every minute is a minute of torture. And for David, the pain was growing.

  If it wasn’t for the fact that a human life was at stake, David would have called it a day and gone home for some rest. Sometimes the best way to make progress on a problem is to put it aside for a while and sleep on it. But right now that was not an option. He had to solve it today. And looking at his watch he knew that meant less than four and a half hours.

  But once again, his search macro looking for combinations of the word “you” had come to his aid. He had modified the macro slightly and found another verse of the poem. He was moved by the words he read. It was as if Dorothy had poured her heart out into this poem, talking to her computer and saying to it all the things that she longed to say to a friend - if only she had had one.

  But the words also shocked him. Three words in particular.

  “I killed you.”

  19:36 PDT (03:36 BST, August 15 2007)

  “More sandwiches?” Nat asked, looking Juanita up and down.

  “You don’t have a monopoly on fresh air.”

  She hoped she hadn’t sounded too aggressive when she said it. She was feeling the tension, knowing – or at least strongly suspecting – that this man was up to something.

  As soon as she left the building she walked up the street and turned a corner. She wanted to make sure she wasn’t visible from Nat’s office, as well as make sure that he wasn’t following her. She didn’t think he was likely to, but she had to be sure. If Nat was up to something, what was his game and what was his motive?

  She remembered that Martine Yin had blown the story about Dusenbury’s offer of clemency. They still didn’t know the source of the leak. Could it have been Nat? Certainly he was one of the few people who knew. The governor was sure that it was no one on his tight-knit staff and Juanita knew that it wasn’t her or Alex.

  Maybe that was it. Nat was the source of the leak and now he had intercepted the fax from London with the intention of leaking it to the press.

  But why? Nat wasn’t a journalist. They had seen his résumé and, apart from the Grand Tour, all it showed was academic studies and an impressive legal internship with the Public Defender’s office. Why would a budding lawyer risk his career to pass on a few juicy tit-bits to the press?

  The obvious answer was money. Some of the papers would pay a lot for a scoop like that. But then you’d expect him to be dealing with magazines like the National Enquirer, not respectable news networks. Maybe the fax from London was nothing. Maybe it was just a formal statement that they couldn’t supply the requested information.

  There was no time to think about it. She keyed
in their number.

  “Finchley Road Medical Centre,” a woman’s voice answered.

  “Hallo, could I speak to Nurse White please?”

  “Susan? I’m afraid she’s off duty.”

  “When did she finish?”

  “At two.”

  “What?”

  “Two am. She worked the ten pm till two am shift.”

  “I don’t understand. She sent us a fax a couple of hours ago.”

  “Wait a minute, are you calling from America?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, I should have said. I’m calling from the law firm of Alex Sedaka.”

  “Oh yes. Look, I don’t know any more than I told the man.”

  “What man?”

  “The man who called earlier … from the law firm.”

  “From the law firm?”

  “Yes. He called not long ago.”

  “Our law firm?”

  “I … I think so.

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “I told him that I didn’t think Mr. Lloyd could have sent the fax because he wasn’t here at that time as far as I know. Also, I’m sure he would never disclose confidential information about a patient without permission.”

  “And did the man you spoke to give his name?”

  “I think he did, but I can’t remember. I got the impression that he represented the patient.”

  Juanita felt her mouth going dry.

  “Represented the … you mean Dorothy Olsen?”

  “I think so … yes.”

  “I want you think carefully. Could the man’s name have been Nathaniel – or Nat – Anderson?”

  “I think it was – yes!”

  So that was it! He had phoned them pretending to be Dorothy’s representative to get them to send her details! He wasn’t leaking information to the press or trying to sabotage their efforts. He was bending the rules in order to help them! He knew that the clinic wouldn’t release the information without some sort of authorization. So he phoned them and pretended to be Dorothy’s representative and asked them to fax over the information! She smiled with relief.