by Ritu Sethi
Jimmy could have pointed out that he alone had made Simon’s “flash of brilliance” product actually work but instead said: “Don’t call her Halle Berry. Éric pointed out the resemblance, and now he’s on the Quality Assurance team.”
“No CEO, not even our delicious Holly Bradley, can demote someone for that, not in Canada anyway. You know, I think the reporter recognized her, but Holly claimed they’d never met.”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Holly wouldn’t let her get a word in edgewise and practically tossed this reporter, a delectable lady by the name of Ms. Chan, out on her bony, yet sexy ass.”
Simon switched to a conspiratorial tone. “Listen, this place won’t be the same after we sell. You think a big corporation will let us play table tennis during working hours, or keep beer in the fridge? Some battleax from HR with a binder full of regulations will squash all that, and before you know it we’ll be wearing suits.”
“Suits?” Jimmy straightened the front of his Flash T-shirt, bought at his usual store on rue St. Laurent. He’d worn a Batman shirt to the office one day when Holly had teased him about the caption, “Hero of the all-nighters,” and he hadn’t worn it since.
He needed someone to latch onto – before life in a startup and life in the big city tore him to shreds, a life so different from the suburban ravine-side condo he’d shared with Mom in Laval before moving to Montreal – Mom who had warned him he was moving too fast, that despite his brilliance, he had trouble reading people and needed things to be spelled out clearly.
He needed her now, yet couldn’t ask. Not without risking his life and hers. He pulled his snug-fitting vest closer across his chest until the seams dug into his sides.
Simon returned to his glass-walled office in the center of the room, and Jimmy moved to the expansive adjacent kitchen to get a cola. The overly-large drinks fridge held – on six removable shelves – an assortment of pop, juice, and multiple craft and factory brands of beer, and into the wide-open central office. He grabbed a drink and saw his girlfriend, Kate, in the main office.
Like a puppy, he sprang towards her.
“Hey, kiddo,” she said, leaning an elbow on one hip.
“You’re here.”
She’d served him cappuccino at Café Doigt across the street for two months without a second glance until one day, she’d passed him her number. It had been as simple as that. Before Kate, his hands had never caressed a woman’s hair; his lips had never nibbled a pierced ear.
Kate’s red tresses, cropped shorter on the left than the right, shifted with a toss of her head. That marked face; those sapphire eyes connected with his, glittering brighter than the stone in her belly button.
She raised her hand, and the small, braless breasts rose under a mesh tank top, making his heart thump and bringing a hard lump to his throat.
“I tried my new brioche recipe – you know, with forty-seven grams of flour instead of forty.”
“And?”
“It’s better than the last experiment, just like I thought.” She looked around the room. “Can’t stay.”
He hungrily sucked in her jasmine scent. “What? I thought you were taking the afternoon off? We could get a bite nearby?”
Now she had her hands on her hips. “Can’t.”
The silence tore at him. “Where are you going?”
His question came off more petulant than he’d intended, yet no more than he felt. Immediately the lines of affection on her face changed.
“Here’s the stuff you left at my place.” She handed him a bag. “I told you, I don’t have room.”
“Who are you meeting?”
“No one you know, Jimmy. No one you have to worry about.”
He held his breath. Suppressing everything he wanted to ask, plead, or demand, Jimmy waited until the smile returned to her face. Slowly, it did, and she leaned in and gave him a kiss on the lips.
The sensation of her soft, cinnamon-flavored lips pressed against made him lightheaded.
“Maybe I’ll come over tomorrow night,” she said. She moved, and her tiny waist swiveled towards him above low-cut jeans.
“I can make spaghetti, with chopped up hot dogs.” It was one of the few things Jimmy knew how to make.
Kate smiled. There was affection there; he could tell. She liked him; although there were times when he wasn’t so sure. Once, he’d seen her watching his reflection in the mirror, something wild in her eyes. But then her expression had relaxed.
Noise from across the room made him turn where Simon escorted a well-dressed man into office – Simon speaking while the other listened.
The stranger moving with an easy stride, taking in the room, almost owning it. He came to a halt beside them, and Jimmy detected the faintest hint of smoke and rubber. Mom would have called him handsome – said he looked like some debonair movie star from an old black and white film.
Now, the stranger noticed Kate with obvious appreciation. She tilted her head to one side and returned his bold stare, lips pressed firmly together, jaw clenched: two grown-ups checking one another out. Something hungry jumped in Jimmy's chest.
“Meet Chief Inspector Gray James of the SPVM,” Simon said, caressing his new hipster beard, which didn’t suit him one bit and invariably carried bits of lodged food between coarse strands. “He’s here to address the troops about Norman’s disappearance.”
The Inspector held out an awkward hand in an almost claw-like grip, where the middle fingers didn’t move, and a snake-like scar traveled up his wrist and into his cuff. That must have hurt a lot; maybe, it still did. Kate noticed the deformity, too, but almost clinically, like she’d seen this type of thing all the time. She shook hands but let go quick, as though it were hot.
Kate made her excuses and left Jimmy to deal with the police alone. The Chief Inspector ignored her receding figure (unlike drooling Simon) and scanned the room with a serene, almost Zen-like presence.
A hand closed around Jimmy’s throat.
“We need to talk,” the Inspector said, his baritone voice calm and cool. “I have a feeling you can help me.”
Simon led him and the others into the kitchen for the upcoming group meeting. To the right, Holly stood with her legs apart and fists on her hips before her office, glaring at Jimmy. That look said it all, and now the hand around his throat possessed thick, long-nailed fingers, painted blood red. Holly unclenched her fists and pointed one painted nail in his direction. And they both knew what that meant.
CHAPTER 5
April 1, 12:30 pm
GRAY RELAXED BEFORE the fifty or so HealSo employees gathered in the expansive kitchen with Vivienne to his right. Most sat in the half dozen rows of tables, and the rest stood restlessly in the back against the kitchen counter and appliances, making their nervousness of being spoken to by the police obvious.
The pounding in Gray’s head had subsided after a couple of pills, courtesy of Vivienne. He looked presentable enough to continue with the job, if only just, but the greater part of Gray’s energy was being consumed by staying sharp.
“You feeling better?” Vivienne’s half-smile brought normalcy to an abnormal day.
“It’s been a jam-packed morning.”
The room grew quiet. Startup employees sat in tightly packed rows and avoided Gray’s eyes, none wanting to draw attention to themselves. Only the executives standing in the back of the room defiantly stared at the detectives. Simon leaned against a cupboard on the left, and CEO Holly Bradley – tall and lithe, mouth set in a grim line – stood beside a glass-fronted drinks fridge to the right.
Her high stiletto boots, cropped hair, and exotic looks gave her the appearance of an actress rather than a business powerhouse. Steely gray eyes did more than hint at ruthlessness.
Simon crossed his arms, looking bored and annoyed, an interesting twist since he’d reported Norman missing in the first place. He made eyes at Vivienne and raised both eyebrows suggestively. She merely blinked.
&nb
sp; Gray turned his attention to Jimmy, sitting by the wall at the end of a table. The young man of about twenty-eight stared down at his hands, the boyish face scrunched and pale. Straight, brown strands fell before his eyes. He knew something which frightened him.
“Cool looking group, more hipster than tech geeks,” Vivienne said, leaning towards him.
“This is Montreal,” Gray said, by way of explanation. Style was a given here.
Gray and Vivienne planned to observe everyone’s reactions while addressing the group. The initial meeting with the compiled staff was crucial. In a group, reactions and explanations couldn’t be contrived or controlled. Others were always willing to step in and correct half-truths. Gray noticed what got told as much as what was withheld during the group discussion. Facts held back for disclosure in private were immediately suspect.
All eyes focused on Gray. “Thank you for giving us a few minutes of your time. I’m Chief Inspector Gray James of the SPVM, and this is my colleague Detective Vivienne Caron. We’ll be speaking to many of you alone, but it’s helpful for us to address entire startup first. Some of you may be aware of the fact that your Medical Advisor, Dr. Norman Everett, has been reported missing.”
There was a flurry of rustling and low voices.
“Even though twenty-four hours haven’t elapsed yet,” Gray continued, “Simon Everett has filed an official report, and we’re taking it very seriously. Has anyone seen or heard from Norman since yesterday?”
Gray waited. No one spoke. He was about to continue when Holly said:
“Even if he’s missing, which I very much doubt, why does this warrant a Chief Inspector from the SPVM Homicide Squad? Why not a couple of uniforms instead?” She met his eyes in a challenging gaze, daring him to explain. But did she know the reason for their presence? Her cocky stance implied she did; Gray couldn’t be certain.
Holly’s next words clarified the issue. “I only ask because you were on the morning news, weren’t you? An Inspector’s car got bombed beside the riverfront, and I’m certain I saw you in the video.”
Voices in the room rose, and bodies shuffled. Gray watched, registered their reactions, especially Simon’s and Jimmy’s. He’d wondered how to broach the issue of the faceless body without directly linking it to Norman. Without proof, that could blow up in his face. And he didn’t wish to reveal to the startup what...or rather who had inadvertently brought him to their door; at least, not yet. Now, with Holly mentioning the program, things became easier.
“You’re correct,” Gray said. “I was called early this morning to the beach park directly opposite Westborough Hospital to investigate a suspicious death.”
More murmurs. All the blood left Jimmy’s face, and if he weren’t seated, he might have passed out. Funny how in tech startups, a naive kid –innocent and unworldly – could be one of the heads. The world had turned into a funny place Gray didn’t always understand.
In the back of the room, Simon stood in simian posture with his mouth hanging open, both arms flaccid in front of his body. Only Holly remained unaffected, although presumably if she’d seen the news report, she already knew of the faceless corpse found hanging by the beach; she might already suspect it belonged to her medical advisor, Norman.
Gray kept his expression neutral. The rest of the startup programmers and engineers shifted in their seats and fiddled with their hands, not all of them frightened, some intrigued by their vicarious brush with murder.
“Did something happen to Norman?” Simon said.
Vivienne took a step forward. “We don’t know. We have to wait for a formal identification. That’s why it’s important to know if anyone spoke to Norman in the last twenty-four hours and to ascertain his movements. No one at the hospital has heard from or seen him since six pm last night. And his family has made every effort to locate him this morning.”
So far, people wanted information but gave back nothing in return. Two men carried in several large covered aluminum trays, presumably the startup’s lunch, and placed it on a side table. It seemed early to Gray. Wafts of marinated beef, lime, and chorizo filled the room. Gray recognized the restaurant label on the trays as coming from a Chilean place he frequented himself.
“I heard from Norman.” Holly’s declaration produced instant silence. “He telephoned me at nine in the morning, to say he’d be away for a while and to not worry. He also said he’d forgotten about the Board meeting and to send his apologies, but other things currently occupied his time. He recommended I continue with the acquisition plans without him. He asked me to relate that to the Board, and I’ve phoned them all in turn.”
Someone in the room gasped. A couple of chairs screeched against the cement floor, but otherwise, they all sat in a pregnant hush. All eyes moved from Holly to Gray, assessing his reaction to this unexpected twist. People exhaled around the room. If Norman contacted Holly this morning, then any violence by the river had nothing to do with their startup or their lives. The police would presumably go away and leave them alone.
“Where did Norman telephone from?” Gray asked.
Holly took her time. She punched a button on the adjacent automatic espresso machine and used a spoon to stir in some sugar. Wafts of dark roast blended with the tempting scents of beef, lime, and cilantro.
“The hospital. He said he arrived at work early, although he didn’t plan to stay. You can check my cell. His caller ID came up, or I wouldn’t have answered.”
Gray moved forward and stopped before her. She held out the coffee, but he shook his head, his tone even, his face expressionless. “How long did he say he’d be away?”
“He didn’t say.” Holly sipped the coffee. “I got the impression he’d be away for a while, that he was running away from something. At any rate, does this really involve HealSo? It’s time for our meeting, and everyone’s anxious to get down to business.”
So, that was her angle. Holly’s implication that Norman wanted to escape his life, either temporarily or permanently, could paralyze Gray’s investigation, especially as her ambivalence to Norman’s disappearance mirrored Gabi’s. The two women probably had allied objectives: to sell the startup and secure hundreds of millions for the Founder, shareholders, and CEO – but would they collude to fabricate a ghost trail for a man who no longer walked the earth, a man lying faceless on Seymour's stainless steel table?
Vivienne stiffened beside Gray. He honed into her line of sight. Jimmy. A rapid flush had flooded his face like a rash, and every muscle in his body looked fired up, ready to help him bolt out of the room. They would speak to him first. Before Holly or Simon got their hands on him.
Vivienne said, “Would Dr. Everett leave his patients at the hospital like that? Would he disappear from his practice without notice?”
Holly shrugged. “How do I know? He supervised our PAS system initially, though now it runs like a well-oiled machine and all the ID physicians use it. What he does with his patients isn’t HealSo’s problem. Besides, doctors have backup, don’t they?” She looked from Gray to Vivienne. “I spoke to his wife, you know. Norman packed a suitcase. The man has a right to exit from his life if he wants to. We all do.”
Simon’s face, pinched and angry, carried blotches of red and purple. His eyes shifted from Gray to Holly, finally resting on a spot on the ground between them.
No other staff had anything to offer, and no one claimed to have seen Norman in at least a week. Holly was tapping her right foot on the floor, Jimmy got up and sat down a couple of times, and Simon kept stroking that ridiculous beard of his.
Gray and Vivienne took individual statements from all parties concerned.
***
Seated behind his glass desk, Simon mowed down his beef burrito. He chewed with his mouth open, revealing yellow and uneven teeth and a stomach-churning mix of saliva, tortilla, and meat, not to mention the added delight of a chunk of guacamole dangling from his beard.
The sight was enough to turn Gray off his tacos carnes, supplied on a plate court
esy of the administrative assistant who had handed it to him with a flirtatious wink, not to mention exiting swing of her ample hips. After only two bites, he pushed the plate aside – not because it wasn’t good but because either he was still concussed, or else the messy sight of Simon eating was too much for him.
His interview with Jimmy, a few minutes ago, had garnered annoyingly little: the young engineer was hiding something and claimed to have been out with his girlfriend, Kate, and some other friends the previous night, a fact which Vivienne was tasked to confirm after she took Gabi Everett to the morgue to ID the faceless corpse.
Gray sat back. Instinctively, he understood the suspect before him.
And he had an important question to ask, but he’d lead in gradually and bury it with the others.
Simon had a sharp yet useless look about him, accentuated by a pudgy face which could not be successfully hidden under the Victorian beard, and a carrot-shaped body bubbling, in the midriff, out of his slim red pants and blue linen shirt.
Gray shifted in the hard plastic chair Simon had allotted for guests, taking pressure off a bruise on his right side.
“You spoke to my mom?” Simon said, in between bovine chews.
“Yes. She’s the one who told me that Dr. Norman Everett is Medical Advisor to your startup, and she mentioned you’re planning on selling. Gabi was surprised you reported your stepfather missing so soon.”
Simon mercifully put his burrito down and brought his fingertips together, in the manner of a professor addressing a particularly recalcitrant student. But he continued to lick at his teeth and gums for a while, making squishy, clicking sounds. “Norman missed a board meeting. He never misses one. The old guy lives for his work.”
“I’m surprised the officer-in-charge filed a report before the customary twenty-four hours elapsed.”
“Didn’t want to. Our taxes pay for you guys, you know. I had to give him hell.”