The Unprintable Big Clock Chronicle

by Unknown

  “How dare you!” she snapped. “I don't have to listen to this anymore. I hope you have a good attorney, young lady. And I can see why you drift from job to job—you're clearly very unstable.” Haughtily, Dede flung her sash over one beefy shoulder and said to the staff, “I will see you all at work on Monday. This one—” She jerked her head at me without meeting my eyes. “—has ruined my evening. Goodnight.” With that, Dede waddled angrily away.

  “Oh, no,” I said, and looked to Ian, “Ian, please, if she leaves now, she's not coming back. I just know it!”

  “I'll call the police,” he said, taking out his cell phone. “Maybe they'll detain her long enough to at least ask her some questions.”

  “Please, you know they'll do nothing,” I said, then impulsively took off after her.

  “Rocket—wait!” I heard Ian call. I kept going. But already Dede James was gone in the crowd. I looked everywhere for a burgundy muumuu, but saw only a vast sea of dresses and suits and silver and gold. Without stopping at the coat check, I flew through the entrance. I realized that Ian was jogging up behind me when he caught the door before it shut. He stepped out on the steps with me and said, “Rocket, what are you doing? You can't keep chasing after her.”

  “But what if she gets away?” I said, turning my gaze to the parking lot below. “Oh, my God—look!” I cried, just as we heard the screeching of tires and watched her car peel out of its parking spot. I wasn't sure if it was Fate that intervened next, or just the toxic combination of reckless driving and black ice, but almost immediately, Dede's car skidded up on a snow-banked curb, peeling off the pavement like a band aid being ripped, and the vehicle flipped over. I couldn't help letting out a scream as I watched it crash down.

  Chapter 37

  I wasn't sure how long it had taken for the police to come, the ambulance to arrive, and for the scene of the accident to clear. Before I headed home, I made Ian promise to call me as soon as he knew anything about Dede's condition.

  I reached my car and was dismayed to find that I'd left it unlocked. Adrenaline and my haste to get to the party must have knocked me out of character. With a sigh, I slid into the front seat. While my car was warming up, I watched the clusters of people still gathered on the front steps of R&D. I was surprised more party goers weren't making an exodus after the disturbing chaos that had ensued with Dede. But I supposed all the commotion had caused a second wind, and everyone had quite a bit of gossiping yet to do.

  When I finally drove out of the complex, I felt a deep, indescribable sense of relief. It was like a surreal blanket of calm that settled over me. I couldn't believe I'd figured all that out. Granted, I'd taken some twisting back roads and landed in a few ditches, but here I was: driving down the quiet street of Lingonberry, finally knowing exactly where I was going.

  And for the first time in three weeks, it sank in how close I was to Christmas. Even as an adult, Christmas was still my most treasured time of year. Normally, my excitement for the holiday began building as soon as Halloween passed. But this year, as soon as I became preoccupied, it seemed that December had sped by.

  Now, I smiled to myself, thinking how I was just days away from going home to New Jersey, from seeing my family and the enormous tree that my mother made my father and brothers get every year. Soon Cappy and I would be safe in my parents' warm Victorian house, and I'd be getting up early on Christmas Eve to have French press coffee with my mom, catch up, help her make the cheesecake and pumpkin bread.

  For the most part, the warm, cozy notion filled my mind—and overshadowed the few nagging things still rattling around in there, in the compartment of my brain marked: Metropolax. What was bothering me was the thought that I'd have to make a statement to the police about all my accusations, about my part in Dede's accident—or the events leading up to it—and I was afraid I'd get in trouble. What right had I to insinuate myself into the Metropolax Company for the purpose of snooping? Since I wasn't a cop or a P.I. with a license, what was going to happen to me? Now I chewed my lip, contemplating the possibilities. Don't ask me why I was coming late to the party on this, but I had to admit: it finally hit me that all my boss's warnings were true, and so were the recriminations he'd dumped in my lap.

  The second thing that wasn't sitting particularly well with me was what I'd come to learn about Suzie Diamanti. Let's face it: if I'd known at the start of all this that I would drive myself crazy to find some belated justice for an extortionist, I really wouldn't have done it. Right or wrong, I wouldn't have bothered turning my life upside down to be an advocate for a blackmailer. But of course I hadn't known Suzie's real intentions for coming to Big Clock, or all the sordid details, until tonight, when the whole ugly truth had revealed itself in pieces.

  I switched on the radio and forced myself to put aside these negative thoughts. Why was I letting them encroach on my perfect Christmas mood? It was silly to manufacture regrets now. Not to sound like my brothers, but it was Monday morning quarterbacking. Or, in this case, maybe they'd call it Blitzer's Remorse?

  As I drove, I became aware of a pulling on my car. It was hard to explain exactly; it was the feeling of something tugging or hanging on the back wheels. Alarmed, I wondered if I'd left groceries in the trunk. The reason it was an alarming thought was because I hadn't gone grocery shopping since early last week. Suddenly, I heard a tapping sound. This metallic kind of thud. I waited for it to stop on its own, but it didn't.

  Instead, it seemed to get louder as I drove. Damn it, not now! I thought. There was no way I was going to pull over on the side of a dark and presently deserted road. However, if I turned left at Cobble Road, coming up, I could drive down to Antonsen Automotives. I wasn’t sure if the service station was open, but I knew it was well lit by the gas pumps and located at a more commercial intersection. That would give me a chance to make a super-quick stop just to check the rear of the car.

  With a sigh, I hooked a left and considered the troubling noise. Had I done something to the car when it was stuck on the ice earlier? Had I rocked it too hard, set something loose? As you can probably tell, I knew next to nothing about cars. Which was why I wasn't going to pop the hood like I knew what I was doing, or anything equally ridiculous. Besides, the sound, which was worsening, was coming from the back.

  After pressing the trunk release handle, I checked the backseat first.

  As I walked to the back of my car, clumps of snow began hitting my face in big wet glops. I began muttering curses under my breath, feeling good and sorry for myself, when all of a sudden, the trunk lid flew up, nearly hitting me in my face.

  “Aaah!” I screamed, trying to jump back as someone lurched out of the trunk. But I wasn't fast enough and the assailant pounced on top of me, sending me to land flat on my back on the pavement.

  Chapter 38

  I screamed again and tried to wrestle away. In my frantic state, I became aware that it was a woman on top of me, even though all I could see for several moments were heavy snowflakes and fabric twisting everywhere .

  Struggling to breathe, I felt the burning pain in my back, as adrenaline raged hotly through my veins again. This time it wasn't anticipation, it was terror—the adrenaline of my survival instinct. Had to be, because with another shout, I managed to find a strength I didn't know I had and push the body over, as we both rolled on the street. I was on top of her now and as I cleared the snow from my eyes with one of my arms, I heard the woman yell, “You lied to me! You're a liar, just like all the rest!”

  “Oh my God—Lucy?!”

  “You're just a worthless liar!” Lucy shouted at me.

  “How...what!” I was relieved, stunned, and terrified all at the same time. Lucy had obviously gone crazy. Yet it was hard to imagine there wasn't some way I couldn't reason with her. Or was I being too naive? Was I trying to understand a nut by thinking too much like a sane person?

  Meanwhile, with her one free hand, Lucy pushed up her ski hat so it no longer shielded a third of her face. From the light of the
street lamp, I could see the rage in her eyes. I couldn't begin understand it, though. “Lucy, why are you attacking me? What I did do?” I said, still pressing all of my weight on her, so she couldn't get up. It was the first time I'd been truly grateful for my two-ton winter jacket. As God as my witness, I would never diss this coat again.

  Meanwhile I darted my head around, frantically looking for someone to appear on the sidewalk or drive past the closed service station.

  “You lied to me!” she said again.

  “About what?”

  “About everything! You told me you weren't interested in Professor Helmuson. Remember, I asked you once if you thought he was cute and you said you didn't think of him like that.”

  “That's true, I don't!” I insisted. I almost added that Helmuson was way too old for me, but then thought better of it. I didn't want to chance touching the wrong nerve. Just then Lucy started huffing and squirreling up her face like she had to sneeze. As she started the “AH” part of “AH-Choo,” I couldn't help backing away a little to avoid being sneezed on. That was enough for her to get the upper hand; she rolled me over with force and the next thing I knew, there was a sharp object was poking against my neck. It felt like a key, but I wasn't sure. She grabbed a fistful of my hair. “Let's get in the car. We're gonna talk. For once, Caitlyn the Little Princess is gonna take time out of her precious schedule for me!”

  Soon I was being shoved into the backseat of my own car by my crazy spinster neighbor. As Lucy slid in the car beside me and locked the door, my heart galloped hard against my ribs. My voice seemed to disintegrate. I couldn't believe this was actually happening to me. “Lucy, please,” I said, speaking barely above a whisper, “whatever you're thinking, I'm sure it's a misunderstanding. I have no idea why you'd think I like Helmuson, but I swear to you, that I have not one ounce of interest in the man. I don't think I've ever even spoke to him outside of class.”

  In the light that filtered into the car, and with hatred on her face, Lucy looked older—much older than her forty-one years. The frown lines around her mouth were deeply engraved and unforgiving.

  “If that's true,” Lucy said, gritting her teeth, “then how come you got an 'A' in his class? What did you have to do for that 'A'? You lying backstabber!”

  “What—I—wait, how do you know I got an 'A'? I don't even know my grade yet!”

  “Because grades were just posted today and I saw yours. That's how!”

  For Lucy to know which grade was mine, she would have to have memorized my student ID number. Normally I would say that only a psychotic would do something like that—but I'm sure you can see why that line of reasoning wasn't a comfort at the moment.

  “Lucy, I swear to you on Cappy's life—now you know I wouldn't do that lightly—I have never been involved with or interested in Professor Helmuson. This is crazy! I thought you went home for the holidays anyway. Mary said—”

  Lucy scoffed. “That's what I told Mary to throw you both off the scent. Did you really think I'd go home for the holidays? I don't have a perfect family like you do!”

  “My family's not perfect!” I was quick to say. But she dismissed me with a bark of a laugh, which held not a trace of amusement.

  “Sure, you and your mother with that cutesy little Twelve Days of Christmas crap! Did you know that a package arrived for you this morning? I took it!” she said proudly. “I opened it up and guess what it was?”

  Speechless, my mouth hung open as I just shook my head.

  “It was a tee shirt that says: Mama's Girl. I mean, are you actually going to wear that? That's sick! You're a grown woman!”

  “It's just a joke,” I tried to explain. “It's supposed to be cute, you know, just kind of funny.”

  “Why's that funny?!” she ranted.

  “Because...I am an adult and...it's just silly. I'd only wear it to bed or something.”

  “Actually...” Lucy said, unbuttoning her coat with a kind of feral glee in her eyes. “You'll never wear it.” She peeled open her jacket to reveal the tee shirt, plastered on her body. “It's mine now!” Suddenly, Lucy's chin began to quiver. I froze, unsure what to say next, scared of whatever was coming. Tears began to fall and soon she was sniffling in earnest. “You said we were best friends,” she whined. “Then you blow me off? You never even ate the cookies I made for you. And I know that you didn't, because if you ate them, you would’ve had to have time for me.” I wasn’t sure what that meant.

  Quite the emotional wreck of a martyr, Lucy rattled on, “How can you pretend you're my best friend and then do that?”

  “Um…”

  “You lied about your mother, too,” she added, her mumbling almost incoherent because of the mucus.

  I couldn’t make sense of the strange comment, even if I’d had the presence of mind to try. What did my mom have to do with this?

  “Lucy,” I said, speaking evenly, hoping it might have a calming effect. “Please don’t hurt me—”

  “I’m not going to hurt you!” she insisted. “I just want you to spend some time with me. That’s all! I never want to hurt anyone…”

  “Okay, well…listen…I like you very much. But I never said we were best friends. I just don't know you well enough—yet—to have said something like that.”

  “You're lying!”

  “No, I'm not,” I insisted desperately.

  “You said it!” Now I saw her reach inside her pocket.

  Fearing it might be a gun or knife she was reaching for, I tried my best to appease her. “Okay, well, if I said that—”

  “There's no if—you said it!

  “Okay, all right.” I held up my hands. “Well then, I-I was mistaken.” She reached deeper inside her coat and I squeezed my eyes tightly, waiting for some higher power to decide my fate, and suddenly, there was a beam of light. It didn't come from above, though. It came from behind.

  The backseat lit up as I heard the sound of snow-crusted tires crunching closer. The light became brighter until the tires stopped. When I heard a car door close, I was so happy that I began to cry. Please save me, I thought, still with my eyes squeezed shut.

  “Who the hell is that?” Lucy grumbled under her breath.

  I peeked to see her squinting out the rear view mirror, which was misted over from the cold. Then I heard his voice. “Rocket?” And he rapped on the car window.

  “Ian!” I screamed, and impulsively shoved at Lucy's head. “Ian, help me!”

  “Oh Christ!” Without hesitation, he flung open the back door and pulled Lucy from the car. As scary as she was to me, she couldn't do much against a man, especially one who was six feet tall. He restrained her and I reached in my pocket for my phone.

  “I'll call the police,” I started to say, but then realized my pocket was empty.

  “It's here,” he told me, turning his body so I could take it from his coat. “That's why I was coming this way; then I saw you turn onto Cobble. You gave me your phone at the party, remember? When I saw I still had it—well, I didn't want you not to have your phone all night. I know how neurotic everyone is about their cell phones.”

  “Oh my God, thank God! Thank God!” I breathed, never so grateful to be a card carrying member of such a neurotic culture. And happily, I buried my face in my hands as tears of exhaustion seeped from my eyes.

  Epilogue

  Brace yourself for some revelations, perhaps the most surprising of which was Detective Frandsen making himself useful. In an off-the-record conversation, Ian had been able to get the dirt on Daniel Media's confession. Apparently, Dede's son was no longer living in Chicago. Having moved with his mother years ago, Daniel Media was now a twenty-two-year-old minister living in St. Paul, Minnesota. It was some avant-garde ministry I’d never heard of, though I suppose that’s not particularly relevant. As Detective Frandsen revealed:

  In addition to a broken collar bone and shoulder, Dede's car accident had left her unconscious for four whole days. While pacing the halls of Big Clock Hospital, her son be
came convinced that God might have been punishing them—and hoped that if he made a full confession and paid penance for their crimes, his mom would wake up again. So he did just that. Went to the Big Clock police and told them everything. It was pretty much in line with what I'd put together myself, but I had been wrong about a couple things.

  Dede had called Daniel that night for help. In a panic, she'd asked him to get rid of Suzie's body and her car, while Dede stayed behind and attended to details at Metropolax—like scanning and emailing Suzie's supposed resignation, and cleaning out her office. But Daniel hadn't thrown Suzie's body in the Chicago River after all. The young minister had buried her in the cabbage patch behind the meeting house.

  Since Dede didn't wake up until Christmas Day, I was already in New Jersey at this time. This was something else Ian had managed to accomplish for me. He'd gotten Frandsen to shift focus off my involvement with the Metropolax Company, and to see me more as a nosy, budding journalist, who had been relying on online searches and speculation, and when I'd confronted Dede with my ideas, her reaction had proven there was something there. But, beyond that, I wasn't really a player in all this. That had been Ian's angle, and it had worked. I became something of a non-entity in the case, especially once Daniel Media confessed—and his mother's own confession would be close behind. Whereas Daniel had been motivated by the desire to save his mother, believing that confessing was God's will—Dede had been motivated by the need to save her son, having awoken from a brief coma to learn that he was in custody.

  Either way, surely Frandsen could see that without me in the picture as the one who had uncovered and solved this crime, the Big Clock Police could take credit and reap the recognition. In fact, because I had wanted to back off, the story was ultimately scooped by the Minn. Ledger. I'd seen it passed around before class started, on my first evening back at Westcott for the new semester.