Death & Other Lies

by Carol L. Ochadleus

  Matt was washing up as the security guard at the gate announced over the intercom a Detective Orliss was there and would be waiting for him in the front lobby.

  “Thanks, Hank, tell him I will be right there.” Matt groaned wishing the guard hadn’t been told the visitor was a detective. Hank Brooks loved to gossip and speculation about the purpose of Matt’s guest would be the break room topic tomorrow. He had worked straight through lunch, pushing hard all day to finish his reports so he could get out of the lab earlier than usual, but now hurrying down the hall, his stomach growled loudly reminding him of his neglect.

  The Detective met him at the elevator, and together they rode back up to the second floor to which visitors were allowed. “Pretty tight place you guys have here, there isn’t this much security at Fort Knox.” Matt again swiped his I.D. to allow them access and held the door open for the Detective.

  “We are a government funded research lab, and what we do is pretty confidential. We work with sensitive materials and nasty products. I’m sure the U.S. Government would be unhappy if the research they pay for were lost to some Wall Street pharmaceutical spy trying to cash in on our discoveries. Unfortunately, in today’s world, there is a real need to prevent any kind of theft.”

  The conference room was empty with only the remains of a cold coffee pot, an overflowing wastebasket, and a bulletin board badly in need of cleaning. Although Matt was extremely eager to get some answers about Kate, he did offer to make a new pot of coffee for the detective, hoping he would refuse.

  “Thanks, but I’ve had enough for today. My wife is probably right; she’s always trying to get me to drink tea, thinks I get too much coffee. That’s the English for you.”

  “Okay then,” Matt said, eager to get started as he shut the door behind him. “I want to hear everything you have found.”

  What is it about cops, Matt wondered, they all look alike? Short cropped hair, mustache, loose and casual sports coat, dark shirt, jeans. This guy could never work undercover; Matt noted immediately as he pulled out a chair. Even to Matt’s untrained eye, the guy shouted police.

  Detective Orliss picked a seat facing the door and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Matt,” he began unceremoniously, “just how long did you say you have known Kate?”

  “Probably about three months. We met in late June or early July I think, why?”

  “Well, I’m sorry to tell you I can’t find any news about her.”

  “You mean, where she went or why?”

  “No, I mean anything about her at all. Not where she came from; not where she worked; not a birth date; nothing.”

  “But I told you guys those things,” Matt responded. “Her birthday is August seventh, and she said she worked for Atlas Medical, all that was in the report I gave Sergeant York.”

  “Yep, that’s what the report says, but I can’t find a single fact to corroborate anything you said. Not one single fact.” Matt’s head pounded harder. “You seem like a nice guy, intelligent, and you have a responsible position here, and we believe your story, but we can’t find any proof that Kate even exists or if that’s her real name. I have checked records throughout the state and made contacts with departments in Illinois, particularly around Chicago where you say she is from. So far, we have turned up empty. There is nothing else to go on. Your story sounds plausible, but that’s where we’re at.”

  The late afternoon sun smothered the room and turned it hazy and unbearably warm. The detective took off his jacket, and draped it around the back of the chair, exposing his badge on his belt and the gun under his arm. Even with his years of experience, the pain in the young man’s face made him uncomfortable.

  “I don’t understand what has happened,” Matt stammered, shaking his head to clear the fog away. He was surprised the search had not found her. He never expected the detective to fail. How could there be no trace of her?

  “I mean,” the detective continued, “I can find no record of one Kate, or Kathryn or anything similar, last name Champion, no school records, no past address, no condo in Chicago, no work record, hell, Atlas says they don’t even have a female salesperson.”

  “I know. I checked with them, too. I don’t know how I got the name wrong.”

  “I see. Well, at any rate, there is no driver’s license, no charge cards, no phone records. The cell number you gave us is a non-working number, nothing. The surprising thing is when I asked around where you live, talked to some of your neighbors; they have no recollection of seeing her. Ever. Didn’t know she even existed. Seems pretty bizarre to me.”

  The detective sat quietly, feeling a bit guilty about the obvious pain he was inflicting, but watching Matt closely for his reaction. Stunned, Matt was unable to speak; he just shook his head in disbelief. What the hell is going on, why is this happening? The near constant headache since her disappearance was making him nauseous. How stupid he felt. What proof can I offer? He couldn’t even provide a photo of her to back up his story. That was her choice. She said cameras made her look fat and as farfetched as that could be, he complied with her wishes. So, there was no proof to aid their search or even prove her existence.

  Detective Orliss was not surprised by Matt’s refusal to accept the truth but tried to help him work through the facts. It wasn’t often he couldn’t find a target, and he was amazed at the lack of results. When he did a little digging into Matt’s past, a lot of things jumped out, including the accident, his head injury, and length of recovery. It was possible, he confided to his friend Sergeant York, that the Errington guy imagined the entire story. He could be just another loony who created the whole thing in his subconscious to make his boring life more bearable. In his twenty-four years on the force, he had seen odd people like that all the time. Mental illness was as familiar in police work as were crimes and criminals. The information eased any doubts they may have about a woman’s disappearance.

  After kicking it around with Sergeant York, they knew they were wasting their time. The guy could be suffering some kind of mental trauma. At least there did not appear to be a missing woman to investigate.

  “I’m afraid we are baffled as well,” the detective told the shaken man before him, as he started to rise. The detective, however, was not completely convinced it was all in Matt’s head, there was a slim possibility a con had pulled a scam on him. Although that was only a hunch since there didn’t seem to be any motive or any apparent crime.

  “You know Matt, to be safe, I’d keep a close eye on my bank accounts and charge cards. It’s possible you’ve been the victim of a con.”

  “No. Not possible. Kate would never do anything to hurt me.” Matt winced at the irony of his words.

  “Well suit yourself; I’m just passing on some advice.” It was possible the guy was a lonely heart who was duped by a pro, but the detective couldn’t prove it, and for now, there was nothing more he could do. After the meeting with Matt, he filed a report with his Lieutenant and suggested the case be left open, but not active.

  More than a week had passed since Kate’s disappearance. Matt’s mind reeled with the conflict and the disappointing report. Strange had just gotten stranger. None of it makes any sense. How could someone as vibrant as Kate disappear? Is she in some kind of trouble? In hiding? From whom? The whole idea was insane or someone’s idea of a bad joke. As the day passed, the questions grew. Why is there no logical answer to anything?

  A little before seven o’clock, Matt pulled into the lot of his apartment complex and was surprised to see Fred Lafferty, the skinny superintendent, coming out of Matt’s door as he pulled up in front. “What’s going on Fred?”

  “You reported the lock was broken, just checking it out. Nothing much wrong with it.” Seeing the surprise and doubt on Matt’s face, Fred hurried on, “but I took it apart and greased it a little just in case.” He held up his dirty fingers for Matt’s inspection as proof of his words. Fred started to limp away, his dirty mullet of curly gray hair sticking straight out behind
his head, muttering to himself about white-collar type guys who can’t figure out a simple doorknob.

  “Well, okay, thanks,” Matt said, then turned and called him back with a question. “Hey Fred, hold on a sec. Have you been in my place in the last couple of months, I mean before today?”

  Fred immediately chafed at the question and wondered why Matt would ask him that. Taking his time to spit a wad of tobacco juice at the curb, he finally said, “Well sir, can’t rightly say I have, I’d have to go back and check the books. I keep the work orders for a while, might have come by to check on things, why?”

  “I thought you might have seen my girlfriend in the last few weeks, pretty little blond.” Fred uncomfortably danced from foot to foot.

  “Nope can’t say I have. Why, did you lose her?” Fred’s sideways grin showed several twisted or missing teeth.

  “Just wondering.” Matt had missed the joke. “But if you had gone in, would you remember what my place looked like, you know, decorations, knick-knacks, that sort of thing?”

  The questioning was getting Fred spooked. In spite of the cool day, he felt the sweat running down his neck with the third degree. He hadn’t taken anything from this guy, at least not that he remembered. He didn't mess with folks who were sharp enough to know something was missing. Not like the old guy in 219 who wouldn’t miss a few old coins and some civil war trinkets, but Fred hadn’t touched anything lately and wondered what Matt was getting at. Careful not to look suspicious, Fred drawled, “Well mister I have a hundred-twenty units on this side of Benning Road and eighty on the other. They are all about the same size and layout. They all look pretty much the same to me. Can’t possibly remember who did what to their place, you know. Unless it was something obvious like the nutso sisters in 103, who painted their entire apartment bright purple and slapped big yellow stars all over the ceiling. Yeah, that one I remember. But, as for the average place, no way.” Getting more and more distrustful of the questioning, Fred wanted to be done with the conversation and again started to turn away.

  Fred considered himself crafty as a coyote and didn’t miss much in his little part of the woods but decided to be more careful around this guy. With his background, it was best not to say too much about life in general. The less people knew about him, the better. The rape charge when he was younger could have been a hard bullet to dodge, but the stupid bitch finally came around. If she had pressed charges, he would have spent years in the slammer. Sweet talking her had been easy, and so what if he’d had to marry her, it didn’t last long. He just dumped her when he found something better. She was pissed, but it was too late to go back and make a complaint, especially after she convinced her parents she was the one that seduced him.

  Fred knew how to handle women. Over the years he’d had the pleasure of consoling lots of neglected wives after their husbands left for work. Not that he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting the little blond this guy was talking about and thought it weird he’d never seen her. Fred prided himself on knowing everything about everybody.

  “Thanks anyway,” Matt said and headed toward his front door when Fred called him back.

  “Hey, Mr. ... uh, sorry, don’t know everyone’s name.”

  “Matt.”

  “Um, yeah, well Matt, do you mind if I come by during the day and take a look at your dishwasher?”

  Matt shook his head. “No, I guess not, why?”

  “Some folks have been complaining they make too much noise. I got some insulation for it. I can pull yours out and see what I can do for it.”

  That was true enough, Matt nodded, thinking about how loud the machine was. He and Kate laughed about it and usually washed their dishes by hand just to avoid the clatter. Fresh pain ripped through him again with the recollection. “Yeah, that’s fine.” It hadn’t been worth complaining about, but since the guy was offering.

  Whistling through his teeth, Fred smiled as he threw his tools into the back of his beat-up grey truck. It sounded to him like they had a fight and she might be looking for some sympathy. He’d keep an eye on this place. Maybe he should tell the guy there was a piece of metal stuck in the lock. Looked like the tip of one of those professional picks the cops use broke off and got jammed in there. But that was probably offering too much information. Guys on the streets had picks too. Or kids. There was always some fooling around in the area. If he mentioned it to this guy, word would get around and pretty soon the residents would expect him to patrol their neighborhood. Wasn’t his job. Let sleeping dogs lie. He wasn’t a damn cop.

  Chapter Five

  In the weeks before Kate’s disappearance, the pressure at work had mounted, and the stress was pretty intense. Matt’s boss, Dr. Nowak, and the corporate heads were pushing him hard, although everyone knew their government funding was always an issue, and the threat of losing it was constant. Money allocated for his project could be suspended at any time, and he and Dr. Nowak wanted to get as much done as possible to show progress and ensure continued support.

  Before he met Kate, his work would have kept him in the lab for days and nights on end, but when Kate moved in, Matt found it was easier at the end of the day to put away his vials, jot down his daily notes and turn out the lights of the lab. He tried to work regular hours to spend more time with her. She was always interested in what Matt was doing, how his work was progressing, and what stage of the project he was at. Although she claimed to have no head for science, she was a logical thinker and encouraged him to try new approaches to the problems he laid out before her.

  They often discussed his day over the dinners they prepared together, and he made her laugh with stories about his co-workers. Kate was never bored, which amazed him. She wanted to know everything about his job and the work he was doing with a nasty virus, how it could paralyze people and how he was so close to finishing a cure. His research was promising but untested. Science took a great deal of time and patience. Matt always thought he had both.

  Fresh out of school, Matt was offered the job in Philadelphia to work for Marsh Research Laboratories, a private company, and he jumped at the opportunity. It was a government-supported pharmaceutical lab with ties to the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta, researching various known diseases and their causes. Financed by grants he was free to spend his time experimenting with a variety of bacteria and viruses, and not worry about producing a product, like some of his buddies from school did when they found similar employment in companies who answered to Wall Street. He lived for his work, and before he met Kate, it gave him the only pleasure and satisfaction his limited life held.

  In Matt’s three years at Marsh, he made some rather dramatic progress. Nothing earth-shattering yet, but his results had the potential to influence medicines in the future. He liked that part of his work the most and hoped the good he did for people to change their lives would help compensate for his horrific past and the role he played in his mother’s death.

  On the steamy summer afternoon when he met Kate, and she told him she worked for a small medical equipment firm, it seemed to be fate that they had something in common. They met accidentally in town in front of the antique shop where he purchased his old desk. Alone on the street, she stopped him to ask directions. She was so friendly, and her laugh was bewitching. She said she was from out of town and looking for a good place to eat. Matt was pleased to give her his best suggestion and more than surprised when she asked him to join her. Entranced by the sparkle in her eyes, he was quick to jump at the offer.

  After dinner and the heat of the day faded, they walked a short block to the park and spent the rest of the evening talking, and then his life took a dramatic turn. For Matt, it was love at first sight and although he tried to hold back, go slowly and use caution, as their relationship grew, he knew he was a drowning man with no desire to be saved.

  One evening after dinner, it was Kate who asked if she could spend the night. As Matt walked her out to her car, she reached inside and pulled out a small travel bag. He knew he
would never hear sweeter words. Kate usually stayed with an uncle during her brief visits to town. Although Matt was curious about ‘Uncle Ben’ and asked a lot of questions, he; never got much information, then eventually quit pursuing the topic. After that evening, she stayed with Matt on all her trips to town, and to make her more comfortable, he quickly cleaned out half his closet and half the dresser drawers, giving her plenty of space.

  Even more unbelievable, within a few weeks, Kate informed Matt she had been offered a permanent position in town, and if she accepted, she would not be traveling so much anymore. Without hesitation, Matt insisted she move in with him, and their life took on a more permanent feel. He had never known such happiness and didn’t want to question why he deserved it. He only knew she transformed him and made it his daily resolve never to give her a reason to leave.

  Matt didn’t consider himself handsome, certainly not the movie star hunk he felt someone like Kate deserved, so he couldn’t imagine what Kate saw in him. Sharing his life with someone like her was like winning a lottery without a ticket. He was willing to do anything to make her happy and keep her in his life, and he made every attempt to come out of his introspective, workaholic shell for her. Life was so much better with her in it.

  Although she shared little of her life, she was always extremely interested in his. On a cool summer evening, as a mock fireplace snapped and crackled on her laptop, Matt and Kate shared a bottle of wine, and he finally felt he was ready to share the torment of his past. It was uncomfortable at first; the pain had deep roots, but as he noted the soft encouragement on her face, his anxiety lessened. Always a private person, Matt was reluctant, and he hesitated to share his story afraid of what she would think of him. Afraid the spark would die in her eyes. But her gentle prodding opened the floodgate, and the years of pain and agony he tried to bury gushed out in a cathartic flood.

  “As a teenager, when I was learning to drive, a terrible car crash killed my passenger.” He paused a moment to take a deep breath. “It was my mother. I relentlessly begged her to let me drive. She didn’t think it was a good idea, I hadn’t had much practice, but I was in a hurry to feel grown up. A lot of my friends were driving, and I wanted to prove I was ready. I probably gave her a pretty hard time about it.”