Lost Hours

by Lorena Franco

“Do you think it might have been Mr. Parker?” I ask serenely. That´s the question I wanted to get at. She shakes her head, then nods. She whimpers, staring longingly at the picture. “That´s why nine years later you decided to kill him.” It was not a question but an assertion. She raises her gaze from the picture. Looking at me, terrified.

  “Me? Kill Josh? Do you really think that?”

  Paula enters the scene. She has put some makeup on, she looks stunning once again after ridding herself of the worn jeans and the green sweatshirt. She is wearing an elegant black skirt and a white blouse with a plunging neckline. She stares fixedly at Samantha, almost threateningly. She points her finger at her and starts speaking angrily.

  “You Samantha. It was you. I saw you.” She says confidently, as she approaches her.

  “What are you saying, Paula? Of course I didn´t do it!”

  Samantha laughs nervously. Stuart and I watch them, as if in a tennis match.

  “Josh tried to molest me. I was so scared and bewildered that I couldn´t remember ´till this morning everything that really happened. I saw you as I was about to get into the elevator. And as I was going down, I heard the crash of breaking glass. No one else was in the office, only you. You killed Josh.” I believe her, but Stuart seems doubtful.

  “Please come down to the station with us Samantha.” I say, looking at Paula.

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “Yes.” Says Stuart as he pulls his handcuffs from his belt.

  Paula walks out the entrance of the agency with us. As we exit, we are surprised by a crowd of reporters and TV cameras all over the place. They flock around us, asking questions as we take the director of the prestigious DIC prisoner.

  We guide Samantha into the back of a car. Some of the reporters stand before the cameras, speaking elegantly about the unraveling of the murder of the famous idea-man, Josh Parker. Paula turns to me and smiles. She seems satisfied about what she did, happy at having remembered and having helped us solve the case.

  “Thanks.” I tell her.

  “This deserves at least a dinner, right?” She asks, even though she knows the cameras are pointing at her.

  “I will call you later.”

  I take the wheel and peek through the rearview mirror, assessing Samantha. She is terrified, nothing is left of the powerful, assertive woman that I met nearly a week ago. She doesn´t seem to understand what´s going on. To tell the truth, we don´t have much evidence, save a tortuous past, a relationship that had been kept hidden for unknown reasons, and the forceful testimony provided by Paula.

  Stuart doesn´t seem sure. I too have misgivings.

  PAULA

  Monday, October 14, 2013

  Good. They´ve taken the bait. This should give me enough time to find Matthew and talk to him.

  A part of me is furious because he didn´t trust me, he didn´t tell me he killed my boss, probably because he was furious when he saw him harassing me. On the other hand, I feel relief. Relief at knowing he is not with Joana, that he hasn´t run away with her. He left me for powerful reasons, but I´m surprised he didn´t go to San Francisco to his parent´s home, and not knowing stresses me out.

  Now I understand why he avoided my questions, insinuating he had been with Joana. How could he tell me he had killed a man? Who can do such a thing? A shiver runs up and down my spine just thinking about it.

  Joana didn´t find him at home that night. He was fast and competent. By the time I got home from my outrageous drunk with Joana, Matthew was already asleep in our bed. I remember the time: I left the office at 21:30 hrs., I´m sure I saw the shadow before getting in the elevator; the murder occurred between 22hrs. and 23 hrs., according to Tischmann; I got home at 23:50 hrs., after stumbling for ten minutes on the street, though I live only feet away from the bar; and at 23:54hrs., with Matthew by my side, I fell asleep. This means he had enough time to do Josh in.

  I shy away from the TV cameras and reporters that crowd the entrance to the building, and go up to the agency. Everyone looks at me, unable to understand what really happened.

  “Let´s get some work done, shall we?” I exclaim calmly, taking over the agency in one clean sweep.

  Lisa approaches me uncertain and dejected, she speaks almost in whispers.

  “Paula, what exactly just happened?”

  “I remembered. That´s all Lisa. I remember Samantha was here and it was she who killed Josh.” I say tearfully. I´m a compulsive liar, quite good, actually.

  Lisa believes me, her mouth gaping open and her eyes wide with amazement. She is making me nervous. “Don´t you have any work to do , Lisa? Come on, get to it.”

  “Yes, boss.” She replies with a forced smile on her lips as she turns to go to her workstation.

  I scrutinize Samantha´s empty office and Josh´s too. It feels so strange not seeing them there. All my coworkers are looking at me, I can feel it. It´s time to leave my cubicle and move into the modern, luxurious office of the idea-man in the company. I will take my position as creative director of the agency; though I know it might last only a couple of days if they discover the truth.

  I feel like a filthy traitor who has risked it all for love, without even knowing if Matthew deserves it. He has become a coward and I´m not sure I know him anymore.

  We had the perfect life and he had to mess it all up… all of it. He did it for me though, trying to make me feel safe. I seem to understand it all, yet there are many things I´m missing. Details I´m unable to penetrate. Maybe I´m wrong and I would rather see Matthew as a cold-hearted killer, rather than as an unfaithful husband who left me for my best friend.

  I try to concentrate on my work, though I know my job hangs on a thread. I organize the work under the scrutiny of all my coworkers, I make calls to client.

  At noon, I call Lisa and Nicole in for a short meeting. They are acting strange, hanging their head, out of sorts. They are still affected by Josh´s death. I am too, but I try to downplay it for my own good and Matthew´s… wherever he may be.

  “Girls, I know it´s hard. I also know we have lost some clients and the agency´s work has gone to pot due to what´s happened. But we have to be optimistic and trust that all is going to turn out OK.” I expound, trying to cheer them up.

  “Why did they arrest Samantha, Paula?” Asks Lisa frowning.

  “I told you. I remembered, Lisa. It seems impossible, yet it was her… She killed Josh.” I insist.

  “I can´t believe that.” Nicole denies vehemently. “What are you hiding, Paula?”

  I take a deep breath to calm myself. My legs are jittery. I force a smile and try to be honest with them.

  “Samantha and Josh had a daughter.”

  “What?” They ask in unison, perplexed.

  “Nine years ago, the girl was murdered. It happened at the time when Samantha was out for a while. Remember?”

  They both nod, their mouths hanging open in surprise, listening attentively. “That night, Josh attacked me, so I ran away, confused and terrified. But I have been having dreams and my mind began to open up slowly, until finally, I have remembered. And yes, I did see Samantha. And as I was going down on the elevator towards the parking deck, I heard the crash and… I don´t know, I imagine that…

  I start crying disconsolately. I remember the times when I used to cry in class. If I was going to bomb a test, I would begin to cry, and the teacher would feel sorry for me and raise my grade so I could pass. It´s a foolproof tactic, it always works.

  Nicole and Lisa feel sorry for me. They get up and come over to pat my back in consolation. I can´t see them, but I know they are looking at each other and see me as a hero who must have had a hell of a bad time for the last week.

  “Oh, Paula, I´m so sorry. With what you´ve been through, you don´t deserve this. Not you.” Lisa says, feeling sorry for me.

  I look at her strangely, but decide to go on with the show. I tell them that everything will be alright; that they should continue giving their best to their jobs. Th
at the three of us will be the best creative team the company has ever had. Come what may

  CHAPTER 10

  JOHN PECK

  Tuesday, October 15, 2013

  The life of a cop turns out to be a lot less interesting than the movies let on. Let alone the life of retired detective, living in a green tiled cottage overlooking the amazing beaches of Malibu. Melinda and I walk aling those beaches at sunset every day.

  It´s Tuesday, though it might as well be Sunday. As I do each morning, I wake up at seven, and step out on the porch to have a cup of coffee and some toast with butter and raspberry jelly. We are grateful for the soft sea breeze caressing our aged skins.

  I talk to my wife about the weather, and how deserted the beaches seem to be, even though it´s only October and it´s been unusually warm. This summer, the beaches were crawling with tourists.

  However, there is something that has been troubling me for days. Even though it´s true that I was hard on Paul Tischmann, over the years I came to regard him as the son Melinda and I never had.

  Paul was that kind of assistant that always go against the grain when they trust their own judgement. Yet when they make mistakes, they know how to rectify the situation and ask forgiveness. Paul was hardworking, honest, generous and responsible; though he didn´t have much of a sense of humor and could be quite tough on people he didn´t like.

  It´s been years since he´s been flying on his own, and he´s had to deal with some complicated cases without my help or company. But I feel that the case he is working on, the one about the strange murder of an important idea-man in a New York advertising agency, has him going around in circles. How is it possible that they have absolutely nothing? How could the killer be so skillful as not to leave a single print? I called him yesterday, more than once, but he never answered my calls, so he must be in on hell of a mess.

  “What are your plans for today, honey? Melinda asks, smiling charmingly and squinting her bright blue eyes in the morning sun. Those eyes, which used to be big and round, still seem to me to be the most beautiful, regardless of time.

  “The lawn needs to be watered. I also have some hydrangeas I need to plant. I´ll write a couple of chapters about inspector Valovsky and watch some TV. It´s been days since I´ve watched TV.” I respond softly.

  “That will be great for you, John. But remember, you always get very nervous when Paul is working on those horrible murder cases that turn up on the news. You need to watch your heart.”

  “Yes, Melinda, you´re right,” I answer, “could you pass me the sugar please?”

  She winks at me, hands me a tiny bag of High & Low, and walks away swinging her prominent hips under her favorite flowery dress.

  I spend two hours tending my garden. It´s a hobby that keeps me busy and I greatly appreciate, especially after living my whole life in a rat-trap in New York.

  The hydrangeas go very well at the foot of a lemon tree I planted three weeks ago.

  At ten, I step into my small office – which by the way, has a splendid view of the ocean – to write a couple of chapters of the detective novel I´ve been working on, it feels like a never-ending task. I still haven´t decided who the bad guy is, so it´s likely to turn into unreadable rubbish.

  At noon, as Melinda prepares some casserole dish that spreads its aroma through the whole house. I step into the sitting room to watch and see what´s cooking in the outside world. Uncapping an alcohol free, ice cold, beer, I skim through the channels, jumping from cushioned canes for sale, to a crappy soap in which two fake blonds fight while their sturdy men gallop on the prairie, ´till I finally reach the news channel. Wars, earthquakes, crimes of passion… dear God! This world is going to crap.

  Suddenly, a few quick scenes grab my attention. In the background, the anchor´s terse voice tells how yesterday. Samantha Hemsley, director of the prestigious DIC advertising agency, was arrested as a suspect in the Josh Parker murder.

  I feel proud watching a rather more serious and gaunt Paul Tischmann, and right behind him she is there. I look closely at the TV hoping I might be mistaken, but there´s no question. How could I ever forget those skittish green eyes, the pale skin and the characteristic red mane? I need to speak urgently with Paul. What is she doing there? With him? What is her role in this mess?

  “John! Dinner is ready hon!” Melinda calls out loudly from the kitchen.

  I´m struck dumb. Ghosts from the past that I had thought long buried, are suddenly alive and well in the present. I need to get back into action, if only for a couple of hours. My mind, not as lucid as some years ago, has recalled Josh Parker, and Samantha too.

  “Is something wrong dear?” Melinda asks gently coming up behind me.

  Samantha couldn´t have killed that man. That man was murdered by the same person who decided to end his daughter´s life nine years back.

  “You see John? You see how watching the news is not good for you?” Melinda reproaches as she turns toward the kitchen shaking her head.

  PAUL

  Tuesday, October 15, 2013

  Samantha refuses to talk, even when her attorney arrives. It´s as if she had lost her will to live, which makes her more of a suspect. She stares out into emptiness and hasn´t slept a wink all night. All we could get from her are vague, evasive answers.

  “Samantha, I need you to talk to me.” I insist calmly. “Was it Josh who killed your baby nine years ago?”

  “I don´t know.” She responds uncaringly, she avoids looking at me.

  “Did you kill him?”

  She remains silent.

  Peck is calling again. I was unable to get back to him yesterday. He seemed to be desperate to contact me. I decide to call him later. He must have seen all the commotion on the media.

  “Samantha, please. I need you to work with me here. If you didn´t kill him, we´re wasting some precious time, and the killer might be out there, and dangerous.”

  She nods, still indifferent, staring out into space. I shake my head; I have to stay cool. I think about Paula and the dinner I owe her. I try to think about pleasant things. Suddenly, Ana is in my thoughts again, together with the bearded, tattooed man screwing her.

  “Samantha!” I slam my palm on the table. She doesn´t even wink. This powerful, relentless woman, director to one of the most prestigious agencies in New York, with a tortuous past which includes losing her daughter to a merciless murderer, now looks like a wilted flower. Refusing to defend herself or speak the truth. “You must have an alibi. Tell me, where were you the night Parker was killed?”

  She shrugs indifferently.

  “Do you want to end up in jail? Is that it?

  A lonely tear slides down her haggard face. She shrugs again, and in barely a whisper, asks for a cup of coffee and a cigarette.

  We don´t have any prints yet, no conclusive evidence that points a finger at Samantha in Parker´s murder. I have been to the lab over a hundred times and the answer is the same:

  «Nothing. We have nothing Tischmann. It´s as if a ghost had slit Parker´s throat».

  In the afternoon, I go to my apartment and give Paula a ring.

  I need to see her, talk to her. Why shouldn´t I? I need a break from this hassle, some down time. She tells me she´ll come over at seven.

  Paula is on time. As usual. She shows up wearing her high-executive gear: High heels, making her as tall as me, a tight gray skirt and a deeply cut, provocative white blouse.

  “I really wanted to see you.” She whispers in my ear. Her lips brush my ear and my skin goes up in goose bumps. Her hand on the back of my neck pulls me in forcefully and we kiss passionately.

  “Paula, before we…” I blush and with my hand on her hip I push her back. “We haven´t talked since yesterday. Everything was so hectic and Samantha isn´t talking. Not even with her lawyer there.”

  “I understand. As I said yesterday,” she begins, sitting on the sofa, “I remembered. I was all flustered as I was leaving the office. My mind was in a blur because of what ha
d happened with Josh. But I remembered, I saw her as I was leaving and I heard the crash of breaking glass, and then… I don´t know Paul. I´m not sure she did it, just that she was there. She was the only person there.”

  “Regardless of how stocky she is, I honestly doubt Samantha could smash that glass partition.”

  “I know, Paul. It seems impossible to me too. Do you have anything else though? Some prints that might incriminate someone else?”

  “No. We don´t have a thing.”

  She lowers her head, smiling. I want to read her thoughts, know what´s going on in her head.

  “Come, sit here beside me and make love to me.” She says suddenly.

  I comply. I approach her and have her clothes off so fast, it even surprises me. In her green eyes, I can see Ana. But even that doesn´t stop me. I pick her up in my arms and take her into the bedroom, and once again, Paula manages to make me forget all the cruelty and evil in the world. That cruelty with which Parker extinguished the life of his own child.

  JOSH PARKER

  August, 2004

  I don´t think any meeting or publicity campaign has ever made me so nervous as I feel on this hot August day, knowing I´m about to meet the child I never knew I had. There has been a strange tension between Samantha an I for the last days. I could tell right away it had nothing to do with work. There was something else.

  It´s true, I was furious at first, when I discovered that she had a child five years ago and she hadn´t told me a thing. A child that was the fruit of our occasional passionate encounters. Now I felt like a little boy, nervous and thrilled.

  My relationship with Charlotte, after the tumultuous affair with Paula, is not working out. I feel confused. In contrast to Paula, Charlotte doesn´t manipulate things and isn´t capricious, though it might appear differently.

  But when Samantha showed me a picture of her (my) daughter, a tight knot formed in my throat and I cried like I hadn´t cried for ages. The last time I remember really crying was when my mother died. I had never been able to understand her after my father died in the car accident, product of too much booze and bad decisions.