The Promise

by Patrick Hurley

  Chapter Twenty-nine--john Buckman

  “Mike, we got a report from England about that dead professor…”

  Chief Parker slapped a file folder on Gallagher’s desk. “It looks suspicious to me. After reading the file, I could see his demise going either way, maybe a homicide, maybe a suicide.

  The main problem is that there was never an autopsy performed. So, all we have is speculation. Unless we go over there and dig up the corpse, interview all his friends and family and do some serious investigating, we will never know how he passed away.

  All this information tells us is that he was in good health and he had no hints in his medical history which would lead to him to die like he did.”

  Gallagher studied the medical report submitted by Buckman’s personal physician. “Hmm, it says here that Buckman had allergies.”

  The Chief laughed, “Yeah, I have allergies, but they aren’t going to kill me. I do sneeze a lot, mostly dairy. I love cheese, cheddar, brie, Swiss and my favorite, Monterey Jack.”

  “Chief, if you’re given the wrong medication with certain allergies, you can die.”

  “But, that would show up in the body wouldn’t it, Mike?”

  “They didn’t perform an autopsy on him, remember?”

  “That’s why you are the homicide detective and I’m just the chief of the police department who needs to retire!”

  “Your mind is fine, Chief. But, this report is disturbing. I think we need to follow up on it and see if his death was unnatural. This may be a significant link to the Taylor girl’s disappearance.”

  Do you want to go to England, Gallagher? Is that what you’re thinking?”

  “Not at this point, boss. But, I would like to call Buckman’s physician. His name is Dr. Wells Thumbley, how British is that? I love English-sounding accents. My favorite was Cary Grant. I could listen to his dialect all day. He was the best.”

  “Yeah, I liked him, too. What was that movie where he was in a wheelchair and he saw that murder in that Hitchcock movie.”

  “You’re thinking of Rear Window,” Chief. But, it wasn’t Cary Grant, it was Jimmy Stewart. The killer he observed from his window was Raymond Burr who later became Perry Mason on ‘Ironside.’ Ironically, Burr wound up playing a character in a wheelchair. How ironic is that? How do I dial England?”

  “Call an international operator. Dial 00.”

  Gallagher dialed the operator and was connected to Dr. Thumbley at a small office in Devonshire, just outside of London. As the phone rang, he thought to himself, “This is a long-shot,” but, he had to try it.

  He had to do everything he could to find Allison Taylor, or at least uncover any information that would reveal what happened to her.

  He heard a distinct British accent, ”Dr. Thumbley’s office, please hold!”

  The detective glanced at his watch and muttered to himself, “Sure, I can hold, it’s only $1.50 a minute, take your time.”

  After several minutes, the voice was back, “May I be of assistance to you?”

  Gallagher responded, “Yes, this is Detective Gallagher from the Athens police, uh, Athens, Georgia, police department calling for a Dr. Thumbley, is he available?”

  “Yes, he is. I will put you right through. What did you say your name was, sir?”

  More muttering from Gallagher, ”They probably do that to let us Americans know we don’t talk as elegantly as they do. I doubt she would have said that to Cary Grant.

  He stuttered, ”Uh, Gallagher, Michael Gallagher, I’m a detective in Athens, Georgia.”

  “Yes, I know who you are, I just like your voice,” the secretary chuckled. “Have a nice day!”

  Gallagher rolled his eyes.

  He heard a click and another click and then, “Hello. This is Dr. Thumbley. Can I assist you, sir?”

  “Dr. Thumbley, this is Detective Gallagher from the Athens, Georgia police department. I am doing some background on a case here and we have reason to believe that Michael Buckman, one of your former patients, possibly died under mysterious circumstances.

  I just needed to check this out with you. Can you help me, doctor?”

  “Well, before we can do anything, I need to verify who you are. May I call you back at your police station? Just give me the number and we may proceed from there. I am sure you understand the legal discretion here.”

  Gallagher responded, “Of course, sir.”

  He gave Dr. Thumbley the number and sat next to the phone waiting for the return call.

  He looked over at Mick, “Are your people in Ireland as quirky as the English?” Mick just stared silently back at him.”

  “No, huh?”

  His phone rang. “Hello, Gallagher here.”

  Dr. Thumbley was cautious, “Detective Gallagher, I will do what I can to help you, but please realize I have to be protective of my patients. It is the law. What do you need to know, sir?”

  Gallagher understood, “Yes, of course. I was curious, was there anything unusual in Mr. Buckman’s death from your perspective? Anything you can tell me?”

  “Well, Detective Gallagher, Mr. Buckman was physically normal in most respects.”

  “I see, Dr. Thumbley…”

  “For a diabetic.”

  “A diabetic? Was he on insulin or any kind of medication for it?”

  “Yes, he was on insulin. He injected himself daily. Without that, he could have had serious physical consequences which could have impaired him.”

  “Impair him or kill him?”

  “Well, if he did not take his insulin on a daily basis, I suppose after a number of days, he could slip into a diabetic coma and it could become fatal, yes, sir.”

  “Is that what happened to him, Dr. Thumbley?”

  “I don’t exactly know. I was not in the country when he died. I was over in Africa on a fact-finding mission with several other doctors studying the rise of AIDS in Zambia.

  I got a telegram from my secretary telling me that Mr. Buckman had passed away of natural causes, such a shame.”

  “Yes, it was. So, you have no reason to believe that his diabetes was related to his death?”

  “No, not really, John took his insulin faithfully. He had been doing most of his life.

  He just died, simple as that. We will never know the role diabetes may have played in his demise. It does, over time, affect vital organs.”

  “I see. May I call you back if I have any further questions, Doctor?”

  “Acceptable, working on an important case back there?”

  “Yeah, we have a missing girl who was one of his students. She was devastated when Professor Buckman died. I had to follow it up to see if his death was unusual in any way and was linked to her disappearance. It’s one of those long shot ideas. Can you think of anything else about John Buckman that may be a bit out of the ordinary, Dr. Thumbley?”

  The good doctor hesitated, “Well, there was something intriguing about John.”

  “I’m all ears, Doctor.”

  “Professor Buckman was quite the ladies man. He broke a lot of hearts. Every time he came in for a check-up, he had a new girlfriend.”

  Gallagher looked at the information in the folder. “Did he ever meet a girlfriend named Allison?”

  “Allison? Lovely name, I would remember it, but no. There were a lot of other names I could tell you, though.

  He was quite a player.”

  “Well, thank you, Dr. Thumbley. If you somehow remember that he had a lady friend by the name of Allison Taylor, or if you think of anything else that might be related to this case; please call me person to person collect here at the police station. I really appreciate your time. I’m sorry you lost a patient.”

  “Yes, I enjoyed John very much. I miss him. I will call if I have anything else to tell you. Have a good day, detective.”

  Gallagher hung up the phone, took the report on John Buckman’s death and slipped it inside the manila folder that read, “Allison Taylor—Missing.”

  The data
was building slowly, but not fast enough for his tastes. He still looked for that break he needed. “Mick, I need you to work overtime on this one. Bring me some luck there, partner!”

  It was time for his fifth cup of coffee.

  Chapter Thirty---an Offer?

  Elie paused before entering her dorm room. She could hear music playing inside and she was extremely nervous about seeing Verna.

  As she gripped the door knob, she took a deep breath, slipped the key in gently with one hand, gripping her pepper spray with her other hand, as she slowly turned the handle.

  As the door opened, she saw Raven sitting on Verna’s bed flipping through a stack of CD’s.

  “Oh, it’s you again.” Elie steeled herself for verbal combat.

  The black-haired beauty was nonchalant. “Uh huh, I needed a place to hang out for a couple of hours before I meet with Dr. Morgan to talk about homecoming. I’m the chair person.”

  “Where’s Verna?”

  Raven shrugged, “Who knows where that stupid bitch is.”

  Elie stifled a laugh. At least she wasn’t alone in her assessment of her roommate. “How’d did you get in here?”

  “Verna gave me her key, because I had no place to wait. She said the room would be empty all night, typical Verna assessment. So, do you want me to leave now?”

  Elie shrugged, “It’s up to you. I just need to do some homework. The music doesn’t bother me.”

  Raven gave her a cynical look, “Okay, I’ll stay.”

  Elie went over to her desk and made certain nothing was missing. She didn’t know Raven well enough to trust her. Finding everything in its place, she went into the bathroom to wash her face.

  The cool water felt nice and she was relieved that Verna was not there. She freshened up her makeup and headed back into the room. Plopping on to her desk chair, she opened her French book and began to highlight it with a yellow marker.

  “So, Bree, have you made many friends here?”

  Elie alarm systems went off. She had been sensitive to any talk of relationships ever since Dr. Morgan’s hints the previous day.

  Now, Raven was in her room asking questions, an unlikely coincidence.

  Was this the time when The Promise was going to be formally introduced to her?

  Could it be that her job as an undercover agent was about to pay off?

  “Uh, not really, I’m here to get good grades right now. So, I am pretty selective about my time and my friends.” Elie proudly thought to herself, “Perfect answer come on, Raven take the bait…”

  “Selective is good. You can’t trust most people, especially most girls, especially around here. They are a bunch of rich bitches who would not know loyalty if it bit them on the ass.”

  Elie smiled inwardly. In a way, she liked Raven’s irreverence. It was refreshing after all the fakeness she had been exposed to with the typical Colony high school girl. “Yeah, I agree with you. It’s hard to know who to trust.”

  “How would you like to know who to trust, Bree?”

  Elie was inwardly ecstatic, “This could be the break we’ve been waiting for.”

  ”I’m not sure what you mean, Raven?

  Raven paused and then spoke in a dramatic voice, “Have you ever heard of a group here on campus called, “The Promise?”

  Elie played dumb, “The Promise? No. Is that like a debutante thing?”

  The beauty clarified the question, “No, Bree, it’s not a debutante thing.

  It’s a society made up of several girls who take loyalty and friendship much more seriously than the average person does. It’s about being there for each other in life or death as in friends forever. Not fake friends, but ones you can count on.”

  Elie thought to herself, “Being there for each other in life or death? Is that what happened to Allison Taylor, Raven?”

  “Hmm, sounds intriguing. Why are you telling me this, Raven?”

  “Because, want to know if you want to be a part of it, Bree, why else would I bring it up? Get it?”

  Elie asked, ”What do I have to do?”

  Raven stood up and went over to her, “You have to be loyal. You have to follow through on your commitment to us and you have to tell me you truly want to be with us. Then I will tell you what you have to do next.”

  With all the fake sincerity Elie could muster she responded back, “Yeah, I’m interested. It sounds perfect for me.”

  Raven smiled sarcastically at her, “You’re full of shit, gotta go.”

  Before Elie could say another word, she was gone. The agent sat there stunned.

  Chapter Thirty-one--one step Forward, two steps Back.

  “I honestly don’t know if we are making progress, Chief. I’m a homicide detective and most of my cases are cut and dried.

  This is a nightmare of loose ends that don’t connect to anything,” sighed Michael Gallagher, “Even Mick is confused!”

  Gallagher, Chief Parker and Elie were sitting in the conference room discussing the developments of the Allison Taylor case from day one.

  Several folders and charts were laid out in front of them on the table. But, none of them seemed to be related to each other.

  “Okay, let’s review what we have thus far and break it down by category,” suggested the Chief. “Let’s begin with The Promise first. I think it is our strongest lead…

  Gallagher chimed in, “Well, here’s what we have on that, boss. We have the fact that Allison Taylor belonged to that secret society. We know that Raven does, too.

  We also know that on the day before Allison disappeared, she got into an argument with Raven allegedly over comments Raven made about Archer Taylor. We also suspect that Dr. Morgan is somehow involved in The Promise, that he owns a ring with a raven on it and we believe that Verna Oden, or whatever the hell her name really is, is a pathological liar and is probably a member of the Promise, too.

  And, we found a piece of jewelry in the shape of a raven near where Allison disappeared. We should get the analysis on the strand of black hair back today or tomorrow.

  That’s it. The Promise is not all that promising at this point. Maybe we should start calling it, The Demise.”

  Parker laughed, “What else do we have?”

  Gallagher continued, “We have a dead assistant headmaster who is probably not related to the case, we have a guilt-ridden Justin Shaw who insists Allison disappeared voluntarily because he hurt her feelings, which is probably also not related to the case.

  We have a professor in England who died mysteriously, who is probably not related to the case, we have an angry, out of control father of Allison Taylor, who I hope is not related to Allison’s disappearance.

  e

  We have a rogue note someone wrote to Justin pretending they were Allison Taylor along with a random phrase from some literary piece that no one seems to know the origin of, as well.

  We seem to be making progress, but, in reality we are going in circles.”

  Elie offered a suggestion, “Maybe simpler is better here. Maybe we are trying too hard.”

  Gallagher stared at her, “Define, simpler.”

  “Maybe Allison just took off to start a new life and left clues to make it look like she was kidnapped.

  Maybe she was tired of her dad, felt too much pressure as she started college and said, ‘to hell with it!’ and split.”

  For several seconds neither of the men spoke. Elie, being a girl about the same age as Allison, may have hit on the solution without even working up a sweat.

  To the intense Gallagher, this was tantamount to investigative blasphemy. But, he conceded she may be right.

  He was not ready to admit that possibility, however, “Elie, that is so simplistic it is beyond elementary, no way.”

  Chief Parker mused aloud, “Maybe that’s why we are having so much trouble here, Mike. We are trying to build a scenario that doesn’t exist.

  Adult girls, and she was of age, are allowed to take off and start a new life. There is nothing illega
l there.

  We may be duping ourselves into believing a crime has been committed based upon what Archer Taylor and her friends say about her tendencies.

  But, Elie may be right. Allison is at an age where she may want to be independent and test her wings. What better way to do it than to sail away.”

  Gallagher was not convinced. “Remember what Deep Throat kept telling Woodward and Bernstein?”