Dead Ringer

by Allen Wyler

  “That’s someone’s pet. It doesn’t deserve to be tortured or killed.”

  The leader takes a step toward Andy, the move sending a jolt of adrenaline through Lucas’s arteries. Lucas takes a deep breath and glances at Andy. Andy stands firm, eyes blazing right back at the leader.

  The other two boys step forward to back up the leader, who seems to sense their approval without moving his eyes from Andy’s face. The leader continues straight over to Andy, their faces now only a foot apart. The other two boys close ranks to either side of him.

  “Know what I think?” the leader says. “I think you’re a pussy.”

  Andy doesn’t wait to say a thing, just hauls off and smacks the guy in the nose as hard as he can. Blood squirts everywhere. The other two guys start swinging.

  He and Andy, bruised and bloodied, make up a cover story on the bike ride home.

  Lucas walked around Laura’s Volvo to the kitchen door, pressed the switch to close the garage door, and waited to make sure it started down before entering the kitchen.

  Laura sat at the table, the Seattle Times spread before her. She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Well, well, well. The traveler returns. How’s Josh?”

  Her icy tone and body language made it clear that Josh’s well-being wasn’t tonight’s main topic. He played along by saying, “He’s fine.”

  Hungry and thirsty after such a long drive, he went straight to the cupboard, withdrew a glass, and filled it with cold tap water. He felt her eyes on him. “How was your day?”

  “Fine.”

  Lucas cringed. Okaaay. “What’s for dinner?”

  “When you weren’t back by six thirty, I assumed you ate something on the road. I went ahead and made a salad.”

  He opened the fridge, found a thigh and a drumstick of leftover roasted chicken. It’d do. He shoved the chicken in the microwave to warm. “I’m having a martini. Want one?”

  “No, thanks.”

  He mixed the drink in an oppressive silence broken only by the rattling of ice in the shaker. Disregarding the olive, he poured it into a cocktail glass, dumped the cubes in the sink, and upended the shaker in the drainer. Took a sip and turned to her.

  Laura feigned interest in the newspaper.

  “What?”

  She looked up. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “I know you didn’t. That’s why I’m asking what’s wrong.”

  “I notice you’re not packed.”

  “Right. I’m not.”

  “And why is that?”

  “You know why. We went over it, and I’m sorry, but I have to find out about Andy.”

  She shot him a look of disgust. “I don’t believe it. We’ve had this trip planned for at least two months.”

  “Feel free to go if you want, but I thought I made it clear. I have to find out what happened to Andy. Maybe even file a missing persons report with the police. I can’t help cancelling. Two months ago, when we accepted the invitation, I didn’t anticipate seeing Andy’s head on a stainless steel tray in Hong Kong.”

  “Goddamn it. It can be helped. All you have to do is pack some clothes, jump in the car, and go. It’s that simple.” Laura stood, hands on her hips, and yelled, “What you’re really saying is that you don’t want to go. That’s the issue, isn’t it?”

  He took a deep breath, then a sip of his drink, trying not to let her push his buttons. “For Christ’s sake, something’s happened to Andy. It needs to be looked into. Who else is going to do that? No one.”

  “You don’t know for certain if anything’s happened to him.”

  Had she heard nothing he said yesterday? “Yes, I do.”

  “What? You think maybe you saw his head in Hong Kong? For the love of God, give me a break. What are the odds of that?”

  The odds were irrelevant. As far as he was concerned, he couldn’t rest until he knew for certain.

  “Hellllloooo. He’s a pervert. That’s why he doesn’t have many friends. He’s alienated every one of them. How many times has he gotten STD from seeing hookers? Answer me that.”

  How many times had they beaten this particular issue to death? And just like all the other discussions, this one would end up the same, with neither of them agreeing with the other’s point of view.

  “Go if you want, but I’m staying. At least until I have some resolution on this. It’s not negotiable.” Lucas grabbed the plate of chicken and the martini and stormed to the guest bedroom.

  21

  LUCAS SLAMMED THE GUEST room door. Too hard, he realized, like something a spoiled brat would do. He flushed with embarrassment. He wasn’t acting like his usual don’t-get-fazed self. He also realized he no longer gave a damn what Laura thought of him. Which made him feel sick with regret over the way their marriage was turning out. His parents divorced when he was thirteen, and he vowed that would never happen to him. Now look at him.

  So he stood by the door, considering whether to go back downstairs so they could try to talk through it again. But her mind was made up and so was his, so why bother? The impasse saddened him further. Mostly because he saw no way out of this spiraling decline in their relationship. Maybe it was best to just let things cool down before discussing it any further.

  He dropped into the chair and turned on the small TV they kept in there. A Mariners game was on. Two outs occurred before he realized he didn’t know which team was up, what inning it was, or who the opponents were. He was like an Alzheimer’s patient the nurse had planted in front of a radio. He picked up the drumstick, took a nibble, but it seemed tasteless and he wasn’t really hungry after all. With a sigh, he shoved the plate aside.

  Ah, but the martini …

  It went down so easily that he contemplated another. But that would mean a trip to the kitchen and possibly encountering Laura again. Screw it.

  Lucas went to the guest bathroom, showered, then slipped in between the sheets and picked up a book from the bedside table. John Sanford, one of his favorites. He opened to the first page and started reading but couldn’t seem to process the words. He started the page again the same result.

  He clicked off the lights and lay on his back, hands clasped behind his head, trying to let his mind drift.

  But all he could think about was how miserable their marriage had become. It wasn’t that they argued frequently. They just seemed to be drifting along, heading in different directions. His practice fulfilled him almost as much as watching Josh develop into a young man. He loved watching football in the fall and baseball in the summer, reading books, backyard barbeques, and an occasional island vacation when they could afford and when he had the time, which was a lot less than most people he knew. She, on the other hand, no longer enjoyed sex, watching sports, socializing with old friends, or going to the movies. Rather than vacation together, she preferred trips to a California spa with a girlfriend, and the only books she read now were the ones endorsed by someone like Oprah or Dr. Phil. Which was fine, but it left them with little in common.

  He’d tried talking with her about the state of their marriage, but she wouldn’t discuss it and had bristled at the suggestion they see a therapist, much less the psychiatrist he recommended she see.

  For the first time in their twenty-one years of marriage, they were in the process of lining up divorce lawyers. Yeah, sure, the idea had previously flitted through his mind in the heat of arguments. But nothing like this. This was a seriously-considering-calling-the-lawyer level of thought. It frightened and depressed him. What were the possible options? Continuing to live in increasing bitterness was intolerable. Especially if Laura wouldn’t seek help. These thoughts swirled around his brain until sheer exhaustion carried him into a black, dreamless void.

  WHEN LUCAS AWOKE, LAURA was already out of the house. He had no idea where she’d gone.

  After a fried egg sandwich, Lucas took a mug of black coffee to his study. Once more he tried Andy’s cell, home, and office phones. No answer. He thumbed through his address book looking for mutual
friends. He couldn’t think of a single one.

  Laura was right: Andy’s behavior had alienated a lot of people. It wasn’t easy staying friends with him. Andy always seemed to leave a Sasquatch-sized footprint on everyone’s life. He remembered when they were about thirteen and Andy developed an insatiable appetite for porn. Andy jerked off obsessively, to the point Lucas joked he was at risk for developing calluses on his dick.

  Andy tried to put a lid on it but couldn’t manage to.

  After they married, Andy introduced Trish to porn. Initially she went along with it to please him, but rapidly grew tired of feeling demeaned by it and put an end to it.

  Andy began seeing prostitutes and ended up busted a couple times by Vice squad stings. Trish dealt with the embarrassment of bailing him out and finally leveled an ultimatum: stop seeing hookers or else.

  When Andy told Lucas about it, he claimed he wanted to stop and admitted tremendous shame, pain, and self-loathing over his actions. Lucas gave him a pep talk and convinced him to join the sexual equivalent of Alcoholics Anonymous. Other than that, what else could he say? It was difficult for Lucas to empathize with Andy’s struggle.

  Andy curbed it for a while but then went right back to the prostitutes.

  Regardless, he decided to wait until tomorrow, Monday—on the off chance Andy had gone somewhere for the weekend—and if he didn’t show up for work, he’d contact the police and file a missing persons report. That was, if he couldn’t find Andy before then.

  22

  MONDAY MORNING

  IN SPITE OF IT being a vacation day, Lucas rolled out of bed early after spending a second night in the guest bedroom. He quietly showered and ducked out of the house without waking Laura. Figured she was still home since the master bedroom door was closed when he passed by on his way downstairs. It had been open when he’d holed up for the night. Hell of a way to live a married life, but he wasn’t quite sure how to turn it around. Maybe after this Andy thing resolved, he’d give it another try. But as long as Andy remained center stage, Laura wouldn’t be rational.

  Andy’s routine was to be in his office by the six-thirty opening bell of the New York Stock Exchange. So Lucas decided the best place to start looking for Andy was his office.

  GERHARD WATCHED THE AUDI back out of the garage. He slid down in the seat so any quick glance in his direction would make the car appear driverless. The A6 accelerated down the street with Gerhard following, making sure to leave enough distance between them to not be quickly noticed on this sparsely traveled residential street. Monday morning McRae should be heading to work up at Swedish Hospital. Or at least that’s what he and Ditto had figured. We’ll see, Gerhard thought.

  THE ELEVATOR DOORS OPENED onto the twenty-seventh floor of the small brokerage firm that Andy worked for, releasing Lucas directly into the reception area.

  A trim woman in a well-tailored blazer with a blonde ponytail and a Bluetooth headset in her right ear smiled at him from behind a richly stained wood reception counter. “May I help you?”

  “I’m one of Andy Baer’s clients. He’s expecting me.”

  “Ah, well then, we have a bit of a problem. You see, he’s not in yet.”

  Lucas checked his watch. “That’s strange. I have a seven o’clock with him.”

  He waited for a reply, but she sat there with an uncomfortable expression. Lucas made a show of looking at his watch again before asking, “Is Mary in?”

  “Just a minute. I’ll check.” She scurried off in the direction of Andy’s office, seemingly relieved to be able to hand him off to someone else.

  To his left, a small conference room with picture windows provided a majestic panorama of downtown Seattle and Elliott Bay with Magnolia Bluff, the Space Needle, and Queen Anne Hill as a backdrop. A pair of good binoculars would probably allow him to see his own roof.

  Mary appeared to his right. “Dr. McRae, how are you?”

  The receptionist quietly took her seat behind the counter and busied herself answering an incoming call.

  He said to Mary, “I’m trying to find Andy. Is he in?”

  She cocked her head. “You say you have an appointment with Mr. Baer?”

  “Yes.”

  Mary frowned. “Strange. I don’t see it on his schedule.”

  “Maybe he didn’t put it down.”

  “Yes, that’s possible, I guess.” Mary glanced around. “Perhaps you should come to his office, and I’ll get Mr. Singh to speak with you.” She started toward Andy’s prized corner office, a symbol of his success as a broker, which, in turn, was a reflection of his personality and excellent judgment. He never churned accounts and always followed his clients’ tendencies whether aggressive or conservative. And for whatever reason, Andy never made sexual moves on his female customers.

  Mary opened the office door and ushered him in. Large windows with stunning views to the north and east, a large desk, matching credenza, a navy couch, two chairs for visitors, navy carpet. Lucas recognized Andy’s brass banker’s lamp and the silver framed wedding picture of Trish. He’d kept the picture after the divorce in hopes of an eventual reconciliation. It never happened, and even after she remarried the picture stayed on his desk. The sight saddened Lucas. The recessed overhead lights were off, giving the room a cold, unused feel, as if Andy’s spirit had completely vanished, leaving behind only material markers that he’d once worked here.

  “Please have a seat. I’ll ask him to join you.”

  “Dr. McRae? John Singh.” A thin, bald, Indian of Pakistani man in a pinstriped charcoal suit stepped in, hand extended. He looked to be mid-forties.

  They shook hands.

  “What may I do for you?”

  Lucas decided to stick to his plan. “I’m not sure you can do much of anything. I’m here for a meeting with Andy.”

  “If it has anything to do with your account, I can certainly be of assistance in his absence.”

  “No offense, but it’s more of a personal nature. Estate planning. So, I’ll wait to discuss it with Andy.”

  Singh closed the door, turned on the ceiling lights, and swept an open palm toward the small couch. “Please. Have a seat.” He turned one of the visitor chairs to face Lucas. “Mary says you’re not only one of Andy’s accounts but a personal friend.”

  Lucas remained standing. “Right. We’ve known each other since grade school.”

  Singh sat down and crossed his leg, then straightened the crease in his pants. “I’m not sure what to tell you. Mr. Baer hasn’t been here for the past ten days, so it’s unlikely he will be here for your meeting.”

  Lucas decided to sit after all. “Do you mean he’s on vacation?”

  “No. He just didn’t show up in the office the week before last nor any day since.”

  Lucas felt growing concern and dread. “That’s not like him. Did he call in sick?”

  Singh shook his head. “He just didn’t come in. He hasn’t called anyone here in the office, either.”

  Lucas felt his jaw muscles tighten in frustration. “Anyone try calling him?”

  The comment seemed to perturb Singh. “Our HR policies are not the issue here. Your brokerage needs are. If I may be of assistance, fine. If not, well …”

  Lucas sat back on the couch to make the point he wouldn’t be dismissed so easily. “Here’s the deal, I’m concerned about Andy. I haven’t been able to contact him for the past week.” Which was stretching the truth. “That’s why I’m concerned. It’s not like him to just take off. You should know that. Did anyone here make any attempt to contact him, find out why he didn’t come to work? Maybe check the hospitals?”

  Singh pinched the crease in his pant leg again, pulling it straight. “We assumed his family would do that.”

  “He doesn’t have any family,” Lucas said flatly.

  “It’s more complicated.” Then Singh seemed to consider these last words for a moment. “If you and Mr. Baer are as close as you claim, then you must obviously know of his, ah, problem?”
<
br />   “You mean with sex?”

  “Precisely.” He paused. “He constantly was using his office computer for viewing pornography. He’d been warned, but that didn’t seem to stop him. As a consequence, we were on the verge of letting him go when this happened. We simply assumed he realized what was about to happen and decided to move on. And that was fine with us because it negated the need for a termination hearing.”

  As if that exonerated them for their lack of concern. To say nothing of the lame reasoning. For Andy, starting over again would mean he’d have to jump ship to another brokerage house. To do that, he’d surely take as many accounts as possible with him. And Singh would certainly know about that. Lucas didn’t buy the explanation.

  Singh added, “He’d been warned several times. If he hadn’t been such a good producer, well …”

  Lucas stopped by Mary’s cubicle on the way to the elevator and asked, “Know if Andy was dating anyone in particular at the moment?”

  “No, not really.”

  Something in her voice made him probe. “But?”

  “Well, there was this one woman he called a lot.”

  “You happen to have her name?”

  Mary cast a guilty glance around them before typing a few computer commands. She quickly wrote on a yellow Post-it and discreetly handed it to him. “You didn’t get this from me.”

  23

  LUCAS HANDED THE PARKING attendant a twenty-dollar bill and waited for five bucks change. Incredible. Fifteen dollars for less than a half hour. At the early bird special rate too. The diagonally striped guard arm jerked once before smoothly angling up, allowing him to nose the A6 over the crest of the ramp and into thick Monday morning traffic.

  He headed north on Fourth Avenue, debating what to do next and whether or not to call Andy’s girlfriend or call so early. He decided to go ahead. If he woke her up, so what? He needed to exhaust every possibility before going to the police. He looked for a place to pull over so he could make the call and saw a free stretch of curb a couple blocks farther up the street. He drove there and parked but left the engine running.