Dues of Mortality

by Jason Austin

  “It is. Richard thought so, too. Or, so I believed.”

  Roberts nodded. “Did Dr. Kelmer ever mention a woman named Glenda Jameson to you?”

  “No. Like I said, he almost never talked about his personal life. I sincerely doubt he had one to speak of.”

  “You never asked?”

  “Oh, God, no. I always thought him to be the central processor of repression. There’s no way I would’ve risked opening those floodgates.” The little lady gave Roberts a once-over. “Contrary to him, scientists generally aren’t what the culture makes us out to be—defective, sexless geeks, knowing only the square root of this or that and nothing to go home to but a house full of dusty books and pet hamsters. People as smart as us, know enough to either get busy living or get busy rotting.” She paused then said, “I don't rot.”

  Roberts sighed, gazing at the floor. He couldn't decide if this new information on Kelmer was a promising sign or not. With Glenda Jameson now among the missing, the whole case was up in the air as far as discovering a single motive behind the madness. In fact, Roberts realized now that all he ever had was Glenda Jameson's word of a connection with Kelmer to the situation. If he did have some sort of unrequited infatuation with her, he certainly hadn’t told anyone. And if he was convinced she was in some sort of danger, there was even less of a chance he’d shared that information. What Roberts wouldn't give to hear that message she talked about. Or find anyone other than a busboy with ADHD, who was in that damn alley. He stroked his graying facial stubble, and then looked back at Ruiz.

  “It was a pleasure talking to you, doctor,” Roberts said. “I’m sorry I took up your time.” He shook the little flower of a doctor's hand, feeling a subtle discharge of heat through the thin film.

  “You didn’t take anything I wasn’t willing to give,” she said glowingly.

  Roberts simpered like an idiot.

  The twos hands slid apart and he headed for the exit, removing the cellophane gloves and coverall. A few feet shy of the exit, Roberts stopped and turned on his heels. The doctor’s nose was already buried in her workstation. The detective drummed a finger on his lip, looking like he had something stuck in his teeth.

  “Doctor?” he inquired, raising his chin.

  Ruiz looked up from her computer. She'd actually heard the handsome detective's pause and looked like she knew what he was about to ask.

  Roberts apologized again for his disturbing her. “You said that Richard Kelmer was upset about not being able to work on his own projects. Was there any project in particular?”

  Ruiz blinked in disappointment. “He spent most of his time on some sort of brain implant. He wanted to use it to help brain injured patients regain mobility. Mr. Wallace wasn’t very interested. He’d acquired Richard from Case Western primarily for his tissue cloning research. When Richard wanted to change his focus toward the implant is when things kind of went sour between them.”

  Roberts gave her another grin. “Thank you, doctor.”

  Chapter 25

  At just after 1 am, the little blue Civic had motored into the driveway of a splendid French colonial nestled in the embrace of smooth, grassy hills and parenting, elegant pines. It sat on the plateau of an incline, skirting a wooded reservation in Shaker Heights. The property was well lit. Built mostly of bright gray brick and garnished with white shudders and detailed moldings, it settled gracefully in its encompassment of fervent multicolored foliage. As she got out of the car, Glenda was instantly enchanted by the explicit beauty of the genetically enhanced rose bushes garnishing one whole side of the yard. Beds of gardenias and marigolds underlined two big bay windows and smaller outlines of tulips marked the walkway leading to the front door. “Ooh pretty,” she said, seeming as though the mere sight of the flowers was an instant cure-all for her worries.

  This is incredibly stupid, Xavier thought and shook his head. The dumbest idea he'd had since making out with that flight attendant with the big hands and baritone voice after, one too many beers. He sat in the car and cracked his knuckles. He thought again of their alternatives. There was one that came to mind, but it qualified more as a last resort. Plus, he didn't know the address offhand and wanted to stay off the street. During the drive, he and Glenda's physical descriptions along with those of Glenda's car and its license plate had scrolled before their eyes on the Civic's media dashboard. If they didn't get out of sight before sunrise, they would be dog food.

  “They think I'm a murderer,” Glenda had said.

  “It didn't say that,” Xavier had replied. He'd noticed that no names were given in the report. Not even of the victims. It only mentioned that on-duty officers had been killed and that the persons of interest or their vehicle were not to be approached.

  “What else could it possibly mean?”

  “Well, not mentioning you by name could mean they're holding off until they have a clearer picture of what happened. It acts as a message to their own not to jump to conclusions and take justice into their own hands.”

  “I was thinking of going back to the police, anyway, of telling them what happened, but if I do that now they'll probably arrest me.”

  “How much money do you have?” Xavier thought it better to act than to try and talk Glenda out of her anxiety. “We'll have to ditch this car and find a spot to lay low. Maybe we can make some calls, off the grid, find your friend.”

  “Six or seven bucks and my cards.”

  “That's it?”

  “Yeah, but it's okay. I can get some...”

  “No, you can't. You get within five feet of a card reader and they'll track you right to it.” Xavier glanced at Glenda's dufflebag sitting between them on the front seat. “You don't have anything in there they can use to track us, do you? Phone, com equips?”

  “No. It was all turned off weeks ago.”

  “And there's not enough to get anything prepaid that will last us and public vids could be risky if you're trying to keep a low profile.”

  Glenda gripped her forehead. She fought the urge to cry so vehemently it turned painful. “My head hurts.”

  Xavier took a gander at the bandage taped to Glenda's skull. He wasn't a doctor, but he feared she could have aggravated the injury in last night’s mayhem.

  Doctor, he thought.

  Xavier exited the Civic and started up the walkway a step or two ahead of Glenda. Last he had heard—by way of Momma’s bragging—the boy-genius had just skated through his final year in medical school...as if graduating early from Central State wasn’t already a bald eagle’s feather in his cap. And what he'd been up to since then had been even more impressive: performing a stint with Doctors Without Borders for example. Benny was generous to a fault...much like Glenda. And you'd better believe it was that very “fault” that Xavier intended to exploit.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” Glenda asked.

  “No,” Xavier answered. He was struck by the stringently manicured lawn that shone with a vivid, almost pastel green under the glow of artificial light. A towering maple championed each of its corners like giant chess pieces. “I’ve never been here before.”

  “What? I thought you said you knew who lived here?”

  Xavier halted. At his left, he spied the outcropping of a wooden sign hinged to an antique style lamppost. It read: Dr. Bennet Hawkins MD, PCP. “I do,” he said.

  “But you’ve never been here before!”

  “I thought I already said that.”

  Glenda cautiously conceded. She didn’t want to offend Xavier again, but she was developing an acute dislike for unfamiliar surroundings where she didn’t know who or what waited inside. “So you’re not sure if they’ll let us lay low here or whatever?”

  “Trust me; just looking at this place makes me feel low.”

  Glenda ignored the wise-assing. “You can’t know anybody who lives here.”

  Xavier leveled a frown at her. “Why, because I’m a bum; a worthless vagrant, a lowlife who’s amounted to nothing but being a mole o
n the ass of society?”

  “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant,” Glenda said embarrassed.

  “I know. It’s what I meant.”

  Glenda stood back a few paces, remaining skeptical as Xavier trudged up to the door. He put his finger to the bell which had some funny little animal face etched in it. A lion, he decided. He let his finger hover above the little black button that was its nose.

  Shit.

  Xavier's courage was suddenly on a high speed solemn to nonexistence. The last resort was beginning to look almost preferable. Hard to believe anyone could be more terrifying to face than Benny. A fist formed in Xavier's right hand. He's got to let us in, he thought. Benny absolutely had to help them. Ela...Glenda was counting on it.

  Xavier regarded the barred steel storm door, reminiscent of the stockades from his MP days. It was backed by a length of fiberglass that looked thick enough to stop a bullet. To his left was the house's outer security camera that would capture his full portrait for his brother's amusement. He took one last look at Glenda, and then mashed his quivering digit onto the lion’s nose.

  After less than a minute, the door was answered by a woman so pleasantly attractive, as to trigger a reflexive slick of Xavier's hair. She'd opened only the interior door so that the barred storm door still separated her from her unexpected visitor. Her warm green eyes burst wide with a motherly combination of both dismay and concern.

  “Hello,” Xavier said, clearing his throat. He'd not expected anyone besides Benny. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I'm looking for...”

  “Cass, get away from the door!” a voice shouted from behind the woman. Both she and Xavier looked over to see a man in a dress shirt and trousers zipping his fly. He'd been standing over the toilet, in midstream, when the doorbell chimed and figured his wife, trusting as she was, would never be crazy enough to answer it alone at this time of night. Then he remembered just who it was he was married to. He peered at Xavier from across the room. “Oh my god.”

  Chapter 26

  Bennet Hawkins had yet to take his eyes off of his brother. He stared down into the top of Xavier's head, with an icy glare he hoped very much the asshole could feel. Xavier was seated at the small round breakfast table in the gourmet kitchen, opposite Bennet's wife Cassandra. The woman Xavier had brought with him was seated directly behind Xavier, diligently avoiding eye contact with her hosts. She seemed to almost be using Xavier as cover from the facial slings and arrows the doctor was firing their way. It made her feel every bit the criminal she'd been quasi-accused of being. She sat very still, clenching a cup of hot herbal tea that Cassandra was generous enough to provide. Her hands would remain in open view. She would not say or do anything that would evoke sudden suspicion.

  Xavier was hunched over in his chair, staring at the floor. He too held a teacup, but wished for something stronger. Gin and tonic or Hennessy. He saw that Benny was still a bit peeved with his wife. Cassandra had opened the door to complete strangers in the middle of the night. That was just a little too generous. And it didn't matter that she'd done it because she'd seen a battered resemblance of her husband's face in the security camera's viewer. Bennet Hawkins was four years Xavier’s junior, but was a replay of his brother’s typical, mulatto, olive, skin and had the same rich blackness of hair, only curlier. An even more curious difference was that Benny had an eminently more mature aura that translated through his face. By the time he was sixteen he could have gotten into any bar in the country with little risk of being scanned.

  “What do you want?” Benny asked flat out.

  “I would’ve thought my desperate need for a shower would be obvious,” Xavier answered.

  “It is. But why did you come here, Clyde? What were you expecting me to do?”

  “Clyde?” Glenda asked with a grimace.

  “It’s my middle name,” Xavier answered. It was way easier to answer her embarrassing questions than Benny's. Although, Xavier was dead serious about the shower being among the things he needed. Food, money, and maybe just a few hours of bed-rest rounded out the list.

  “You thought good ol’ forgiving Benny would just break his back to help you, no matter what. Really?”

  Again, Xavier had no answer. He predicted a cold shoulder, but, sure as hell, not Benny being married. Momma never mentioned a wife. God, had it truly been that long since he'd talked to his own mother? Had he really been that invisible?

  “You're like a priceless antique, Clyde; you never change.”

  “Watch yourself,” Xavier said. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

  “You’re pathetic,” Benny snarled. “The only thing that surprises me is that you've apparently done worse than I thought. I should’ve known my expectations were too high.”

  Xavier stared down again, this time into his tea, his morphing likeness reflecting up at him. How much verbal abuse bought the few things he was asking for? Furthermore, why should he care? Damn it, two days ago he was ready to blow his brains out; how could he have any self-respect left to damage? I guess it could be worse, he thought. Benny was riled about seeing Xavier, but not curious. Not really suspicious about his intrusion. No webscreens or televisions played anywhere within earshot. It was quite possible that Benny and his wife hadn't heard of the motel shootings yet and if they had, the lack of details would play in Xavier's favor. But how much time did they have?

  “What do you want me to say,” Xavier asked moaning, “that I was a lousy brother?”

  “Yeah,” Benny spat. “I want you to say you were lousy a brother!”

  “I was a lousy brother, okay!”

  “No! Not okay! Not good enough!”

  “Do we have to do this, now, for Chrissakes?”

  “You came here not expecting to do it? I don't how I should take that, Clyde! Did you really think I'd be that spineless?”

  “I never thought you were spineless!”

  “Like hell!”

  Xavier shot to his feet. “God, Benny...okay, I'm a major screw up! I let you down! I used you, I pushed you around and treated you like dirt! I embarrassed you in front of your friends, I humiliated you in front of my friends! I never treated you like a brother. You were something that was just...in the way, like a piece of broken furniture. I never wanted you around.” Xavier slowed to catch his breath. Admitting the crimes he'd committed against his brother out loud was unexpectedly painful. He had put Benny through a lot over the years: bullying him, stealing from him, and generally demeaning his existence in that lovingly special way so many older brothers tend to do. Who knows why? He had given up on the psychology of it years ago. As he looked into Benny's eyes it all came back to him.

  “I hurt you,” Xavier said. He got a king-sized knot in his stomach and collapsed back into his chair. “I hurt a lot of people.”

  Benny folded his arms and let his back hit the wall. He was stumped. Shit, the asshole wasn't actually supposed to admit to being an asshole. He was supposed to hem and haw and skirt the real issues till Benny had had enough and threw him out on his soiled undeserving comeuppance.

  Which he could still do.

  “So tell me, Clyde,” Benny said smugly. “Why should I lift so much as a goddamn finger to help you?”

  Xavier glanced over at Glenda and then conscientiously slid his cup onto the table. He stood up, taking his brother's evil eye head on. “Because it’s who you are,” he answered.

  Benny’s eyes narrowed, sharpening their aim.

  “It’s who you’ve always been. Despite that, coming to you about anything has never been easy for me. I never knew when you were going to wise up and decide not to take any more of my shit. I suppose it would be rather poetic, if not fitting, if that time were right now. God knows I’d have it coming, right?”

  Benny audaciously closed the gap between them until he could see the map of human wreckage etched out in his brother’s handicapped face. “God knows,” he said frostily.

  Xavier refused to budge. He squared his chest and respecte
d his brother's gaze. “There is one thing that’s different from all the other times though, Benny.”

  Benny’s head cuddled into an imaginary pillow of assurance.

  “This time it's not just about me.”

  The doctor glanced in Glenda's direction. He approached her, looking humanely concerned for the first time since they’d arrived. He examined her bandage then regarded her quietly. The woman was attractive, despite being noticeably disheveled. She'd gone a day or two without a change of clothes or makeup and lack of sleep was apparent. To say she was Clyde's wild card wasn't enough. She was new to this somehow. The doctor was sure that, whatever her situation, she had never expected to be gallivanting around in the wee hours of the morning with some drunken loser on his last legs.

  “What's your name?” the doctor asked Glenda.

  “Hannah,” Xavier answered.

  Benny threw a brow high and wide at his brother.

  Xavier knew that he and Glenda would have to keep certain details under wraps to keep things from getting too sticky if the police ever identified him. But that didn't mean Glenda having to force their lies through her own teeth.

  “I don't know what kind of trouble you've gotten yourself into, but it's not staying here,” Benny said sternly. “I've got an exam room downstairs. I'll check you both out...then you leave.”

  Xavier nodded. “Thank you,” he said.

  The doctor offered Glenda a hand up then led her away in the direction of his in-home office. Once they were gone, Xavier pocketed his hands and smiled crookedly at the only woman left in the room. He'd felt a disturbance from Cassandra Hawkins's direction when Benny told them they couldn't stay. She'd wanted to say something, but stifled it. Cassandra had watched, intently, her husband chain himself up in his own arms as he purposely stood over his brother, curdling his lip in utter antipathy. She'd seen that look only once or twice since she’d known Bennet. She did not like it. She was glad, to see the air of disfavor finally thin out a bit...despite it being a simple matter of proximity.